#i go to sleep thinking about them and i wake up thinking about them

[luveline]

Hi Jade! (I’ve sent this before so ignore if you aren’t into it) just thinking about a bau!reader (maybe shy!reader??) who’s dating post-prison Spencer but didn’t know him before prison and she sees some footage of season one Spencer (maybe they need to refer to a recording of a previous case?) and she’s just dying at how cute he is 🥹

You’ve barely woken up with your face in a solid shoulder when Spencer’s turning around.

“Don’t,” he says when you whine, slipping a familiar hand over your hip. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Too early to make fun of me.” 

“Do you think I’m making fun of you?” 

His talking warms your nose where his head is angled down. Your skin smarts with goosebumps as he trails his hand lightly up your back, down again, the slowest, tumbling touch. You shiver, and Spencer, ever so slightly devious in love, says, “Oh, you’re cold?” with great pity as he pulls you closer. 

You rub your face against his shoulder. “Sorry.” 

“Why?”

“I smell.” 

He hums. “Sort of. Not like sweat, though. You smell like sleep.” His lips touch your cheek.

He lets you ‘warm up’ in his arms for a few minutes, then however long you doze for, lost and too comfortable to bother even trying to wake up properly. Your phone pings a couple of times after it comes out of sleep mode, a sure sign you’ve overslept, but Spencer doesn’t make you move until your stomach growls. 

“Come on,” he says, kissing your nose and slipping you back onto your side of the bed. “I’ll make breakfast.” 

“It’s nearly twelve.” 

“You just woke up, and it’s the first thing you’re gonna eat. You are breaking your fast. Breakfast.” He looks pretty even through achy, tired eyes, all the sleep crusted in your lashes no match for Spencer Reid. How you went so long without knowing him is a mystery. 

You get up only because he told you to and because he looked quite lovely when he did it, not because you want to. The bed is warm, that pit of his arms calling your name, but Spencer’s already rolling out of bed with an eager hand scratching through his hair. Sweat has made them tight and a little darker in the back. You’ll both have to shower at some point, preferably after he’s made you breakfast in bed. 

He can see your expectations on your face, and he laughs as he pulls a t-shirt on over his head. “Get up! I’m not bringing it up here, do you know how badly your sleep cycle is affected when you start doing the wrong things in bed?” 

“What counts as the wrong thing?” 

Spencer laughs again, softer now, and for a moment he traces your face with his eyes without speaking. “Fine,” he says, waving a hand at you as he makes for the bedroom door, “stay there. But only ‘cos you look so pretty!” 

“Thank you!” you call back. 

This time with Spencer isn’t enough. You need ten more years of this, thirty, fifty, you need to wake up in his arms and have him touch you and tickle your cheek with his breath. He’s too far to have him come back, so you resign to hugging him when he returns. 

Your phone pings again, drawing your attention finally. The first notification is a reminder to buy toothpaste today at the grocery store. The second is a text from a friend, the third an email. It’s one from last night that piques your interest, another friend, full capital letters: HELP. 

Her use of a laughing emoji defers any urgency. You click on the text thread and scroll up, puzzled by her previous messages, a link, and a caption: oh my god he was so dorky??? 

You open the video and feel your breath catch in surprise. 

Is that Spencer?

You're not stupid, you’ve seen photos of him and his friends together dotted around the apartment from over the years, and every time you come across that photo of him and Diana at a spelling bee with his huge black-framed glasses you have to laugh, but it’s different seeing him to hearing him. 

He’s so nervous. You can’t understand what it is he’s saying, something about mathematical components to profiling criminals. Jason Gideon stands in the background watching him closely. 

“There’s actually a good joke that–”

“Spencer,” Gideon reprimands. 

You watch in awe as Spencer stammers an apology, his cheeks a little pink. You’ve seen Spencer blush, but this feels different. He looks so young. His hair is straight as a pin. 

“Spencer, did you used to straighten your hair?” you call, hoping he can hear you over the sound of a frying pan popping in the kitchen. “Or do you have a perm now, or what?” 

“What!” 

“I’m confused on the logistics of your hair!” You feel something weird in your chest as on screen Spencer tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear. It’s a mixture of wanting to eat him and wanting to reach through the screen to stroke his cheek with your thumb. 

Spencer treks back into the bedroom with his pink and white pinstripe apron over his shirt and sweatpants. He smells like cinnamon sugar already. “What are you talking about?” 

“My friend found a video of you and Jason at one of those lectures you did.” 

Spencer presses his lips together. For a moment, he doesn’t speak. “I didn’t do any lectures.”

“Uh, yes you did, liar, and you looked so cute.” You turn your phone to him. “So sweet.” 

He marches to the bed. Before you can stop him, he’s taking the phone from your hand, giving you the world's silliest, tiniest shove when you try to get it back. 

“Cruel,” you quip. 

Spencer stares at the phone screen, then you, “Sorry,” he says, turning pink, “I don’t know why I did that, just– I just–” He frowns deeply. “Can you stop smiling like that?” 

You climb onto your knees, a morning disaster, but when you wrap your arms around Spencer’s waist he looks at you like you’re perfect. His eyes soften, brows relaxing, his irises like dark dimes that slowly dilate as he looks you over. Your phone presses into your back, his arm wrapping around you. 

“You were adorable,” you say sincerely. 

“Not anymore?” 

You rub your cheek against his apron. “No, you still are. Let me watch the video again.” 

“Not a chance.” 

[crookedteethed]

ᥫ᭡. that time you got period blood in rafe's bed.

warnings: nothing but fluff and that time of the month shenanigans

a/n: brain wouldn't shut up tonight, so here's some soft rafe cameron for you girlies. 🤍

You wake up to that familiar cramping sensation and immediately know.

Your eyes snap open in horror, taking in the expensive Egyptian cotton sheets beneath you – Rafe's sheets. Rafe's very white, very expensive sheets that now have a very obvious stain.

"Shit," you whisper, mortification flooding your system as you try to quietly extract yourself from his arms without waking him.

"Mmm, where are you going." His sleep-rough voice catches you mid-escape attempt. Before you can stop him, he's pulling you back against his chest, nuzzling into your neck.

"Rafe, no – I need to—" But it's too late. You feel the exact moment he realizes, his body stilling behind you.

"I'm so sorry," you start rambling, trying to wiggle free. "I know how expensive these sheets are. I'll replace them, I swear—"

"Hey." His voice has that edge to it, the one that means you're being ridiculous. "Look at me."

You shake your head, face burning. "I ruined your sheets."

"Baby girl." There's amusement in his voice now. "You really think I give a fuck about some sheets?" His lips find your temple. "You hurting?"

The gentle question beneath his usual rough exterior makes your chest tight. You nod slightly.

"Alright, here's what's happening." It's his business voice, the one that means no arguments. "You're gonna take a hot shower, steal whatever you want from my closet, and I'm grabbing you some aspirin." He pauses. "And those chocolate strawberries in the fridge? Yeah, those weren't for tomorrow's country club bullshit."

You look up at him, surprised. "You knew?"

The corner of his mouth quirks up. "Princess, you really think I don't have your cycle tracked? Who do you think keeps restocking the tampons under my sink?"

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he'd be smug about being thoughtful. Your heart then does that stupid flutter thing it always does when he shows he actually pays attention.

Later, curled up on his ridiculously expensive couch, wearing his softest hoodie, you watch him navigate your heating pad with intense focus. The chocolate strawberries are perfect, and every time a cramp hits, his hand finds your lower back like it's instinct.

"Better?" he murmurs against your hair.

"Mmm." You sink further into him. "Still sorry about the sheets though."

He snorts. "Baby, I could buy new sheets every day for the next decade and not dent my wallet." His arms tighten possessively. "Now shut up about the sheets and eat your chocolate."

You turn to look at him, this man who tracks your period in his phone but would probably murder anyone who knew about it. This version of Rafe Cameron – the one who handles period stains and midnight cramps with the same intensity he handles everything else – is just for you.

"I love you," you whisper.

"Yeah?" That signature smirk plays at his lips. "Prove it by stopping this guilt shit about my sheets."

But his kiss is gentle, and when another cramp hits, his hands are already there, steady and sure.

What Figure Eight would never believe: how the infamous Rafe Cameron keeps tampons in his bathroom and period tracking apps on his phone.

But that's okay – let them have their trust fund tyrant. This softer version is yours alone.

[wandanatsub]

At least once more, as always

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Wanda finds a new spell in the Darkhold and wants to try it out.

Tags: Somnophilia, dub con (is reader there voluntarily? I don't know), magic (cock), stretching, overstimulation, breeding kink, pet names for reader (sweetheart, baby, angel), mommy kink, slight dacryphilia, no pronouns used for reader

Words: 3k

Find it on AO3 or others like it

I was thinking about how Wanda would wake you with morning sex and then my brain just did its thing at 2am. This took way longer to edit than I thought, but I'm happy with this for now so posting before it stays in my draft for another month..

The bed was warm when Wanda finally joined you, but sleep was the last thing on her mind.

She pulled the sheet off the bed and was rewarded with the sight of your naked body. Even asleep, Wanda knew you were always ready and waiting for her, whether you were aware of it or not.

She began with lightly brushing her fingers over your naked body, making sure you were still fast asleep. Then she pressed a bit harder, especially around your thighs and hips. Her hand snaked around your throat and massaged your pulse points. She teased your nipples and pulled on them.

Your breathing changed, but you were still sleeping. She checked, loving that her treatment was reflected in your dream.

After a while, she let her fingers drift down to your folds and pushed through them, feeling the wetness seep out of you. You were wet enough for her to put her plans into action.

And now for the second part of her plan. Wanda spoke another short incantation and started to slowly thrust into you. She wondered at what point you would wake and shiver of excitement ran down her back, making her thrusts a little deeper. Would the continued stretch of your hole would wake you up before her cock became thicker than her fist?

Before she pulled you close, she spoke the incantation and rubbed her clit. With the last word, a cock appeared between her legs. Her hand easily fit around it, as planned.

She turned you on your back. Your face was beautifully calm, a small smile on her lips if Wanda saw it correctly. Her fingers slid down to your thighs, grabbing hold at your knees and pulled them apart to slide closer towards you. She settled your legs over her hips, her cock right at your seeping entrance. She pushed in easily, groaning as she could feel her cock inside your warm and soft pussy.

Every passing second made her cock expand, slow enough to not be recognizable at the moment, but soon you'd notice the stretch. The slow process also gave her the chance to fuck you for a while before you'd wake up.

Wanda started with easy slow thrusts. You were so wet that she felt no resistance at all., though she could feel it starting to build. She fingered your clit to keep the abundance of wetness coming, not wanting to hurt you. Yet. She kept thrusting, checking in on your dream to find her dream-self lazily fucking into dream-you, your blissed-out face mirroring reality.

Wanda kept fucking into you. Once her cock had grown enough, the resistance was noticeable, your walls gripping onto her.  Gods, she loved the way you felt around her, the pressure gradually increasing, turning her on more every second.

She had to put more strength into her thrusts, holding onto your hips to push into you. Your dream-self had started to moan her name, slowly bleeding into reality, as she could hear you trying to form words. On a particular powerful thrust, going as deep as she could, your eyes suddenly popped open with you screaming out her name.

Wanda kept thrusting into you with all her power, relishing in the squeeze of her cock while pushing your hips into the mattress. Your hands came up to claw at her. To make her stop or will her to keep going, you weren’t sure.

Waking up to Wanda pushing into you with her thick cock had left you reeling, barely comprehending what was happening. But Wanda gave you no time to catch up. The squelching sound of Wanda forcing herself into your pussy filled the air.

"I've been fucking you for a while, but I’m glad you've finally decided to join the show."

"Yes, take me, pet."

She leaned down to pull your wrists above your head, brushing her nose up your throat to whisper in your ear.

"Gotta get you so wet for me, baby, more than ever before. I'm trying this little spell. Can you figure it out?"

Shivers ran through your whole body. Your hips tried to press up into the witch above you, desperately looking for more friction but Wanda slowed her thrusts, though only because she struggled to push into you all the way.

Her hand flew back to your clit, feeling your pussy give way to her. You squeezed your eyes shut, there were too many sensations. You needed to cum, because you needed this to be over. It was torture, lighting your body on fire, raw pleasure coursing through your veins.

And she kept thrusting into you, your brain nearly exploding while trying to make sense of her words and not pass out from the heavenly pressure between your legs.

You felt your orgasm creeping up on you. It hadn't been the first time Wanda had stretched you out, and it always felt great. But her waking you up already inside you felt intense. You wanted to cum so badly. Cum for her. Stretched around her cock.

"Please, more. I need-"

"Oh, don't worry, sweetheart, more is what this is all about. I'm gonna stretch you out until all you can do is cum on my cock."

You were glad Wanda had let you come so easily, not even making you ask for permission. Your hands let go of the headboard and found her hips, trying to push her off of you. The orgasm hat felt amazing but you needed a break.

The thought, paired with Wanda's hard thrusts, sent you over the edge easily, squeezing her cock like a vice. She moaned, her hips temporarily thrusting out of rhythm.

She slowed down until you stopped clenching around her, not wanting to cum until she had you at your breaking point. It helped you catch your breath. Though you could still feel the stretch, you felt relaxed, the pleasure-high fogging up your thoughts.

Wanda took hold of your wrists again and kept pushing into you.

“What makes you think I’m done with you, baby?” Her overly sweet voice made you realize you might be in trouble.

Wanda quickened her thrusts again, pleasure filled your body without your permission though you knew better than to fight it or her.  You would enjoy her treatment so much more when you gave into her fully. If Wanda’s thrusts kept coming, so would you. Might as well enjoy it.

Something felt different though. Like she had gotten bigger, stretching you more and-

Oh.

Now her words made sense.

A loud whine escaped your lips.

"Yes, more, please, more, Wanda. Please, please, make me stretch for you."

Wanda knew you had finally understood.

By now, she was almost as thick as her fist. Her thoughts drifted back to a week ago, when you had asked her to fist you. Wanda pushed the image and feeling of you squeezing her hand, only her wrist visible between your legs, covered in cum and lube to the elbow, into your thoughts.

The mental image and the pressure of her thick cock pushed you over the edge again. Your whole body went rigid, muscle tension pulling your body away from the mattress, pushing into the pleasure and overstimulation.

Wanda kept up her rhythm this time, pounding into you, holding onto your hips, pushing herself as deep as possible. You didn't know when your second orgasm turned into the third, but you wouldn’t care if you lost all feeling in your physical body as long as the fireworks of pure ecstasy kept exploding.

"One more, baby, give me one more." The words pushed through the haze in your mind. And you felt yourself nod. One more orgasm and you could rest.

Wanda blew hot air on your clit, not wanting to overstimulate you, but you writhed underneath her anyway.

Wanda had paused her thrusts, waiting for you to return to reality, but her cock had gotten thicker again.

Your orgasm had spread your wetness over your thighs, her thighs and the bedspread, but neither of you cared.

"More, Wan, please." Your words were slurred, but Wanda understood them anyway.

"I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. You are doing so well. Just give me one more. Can you do that for me, baby?"

You nodded again, moving your hips against hers, pushing yourself onto her thick cock.

Wanda was in awe. She had trained you so well.

"That's it, baby, keep going, fuck yourself on my cock. You can't get enough of it, can you? You're so wet and open for me, made to be stretched by my thick cock."

You whined, not able to push yourself all the way onto Wanda's cock anymore, resulting in quick, shallow frustrating thrusts. You were stretched beyond anything you had ever experienced. You wanted more, needed more. Needed Wanda, her help, needed her to push deeper into you. All thoughts had left your head. All you could think about was Wanda. The witch liked it that way.

"Aww, my pretty baby can't do it without my help? Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll show you how to fuck a precious little angel like you."

You winced at the first deep thrust. Wanda's thumb found your clit and swept over it again and again. The stretch became easier to handle but it couldn't quench the frustrated arousal sweeping through your whole body. With all your strength, you wrapped your legs around Wanda's back and pulled her as close as you could.

"Harder. Please, Wan. Please, mommy, fuck me."

Hearing that title from your lips nearly pushed Wanda over the edge.

Nails dug into your hips, making you cry out. Wanda pushed into you as hard as she could, slamming her pelvis into yours with every thrust, but you didn't care. The pleasure exploded in your body, reaching every tiny nerve ending.

"Come for me, baby. Come on mommy’s cock."

Your orgasm ripped through you, only increasing once you felt Wanda's cock erupt in thick spurts of cum, stretching you even more. Your breathing stopped while your body tried to contain all the pleasure. All your nerve endings were fired up, sending ecstasy back to your center, the sensations concentrated on the stretch of your walls around Wanda's cock, pulling you into another orgasm.

It took a while to free yourself from the haze in your brain. You barely registered Wanda speaking words in another language, then the continued stretch stopped.

Wanda waited until your eyes fluttered open again, finding hers.

"Good morning, baby. Sleep well?"

Her lips pulled into a grin. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, if at all possible. But as soon as your brain found words, her thumb swiped over your clit, circling it, shooting pleasure through your abused nerves. You whined, your hands shooting out to grip her wrist. Wanda was still inside you, stretching your pussy to its limits.

"Ah ah ah, baby, hands to yourself. I just want to make this easier for you."

Your grip on her wrist didn't lessen, but you didn't have the strength to stop her anyway. Wanda brushed quick little circles over your clit, making your eyes roll back. Your hips lifted of their own volition, still chasing her touch, but she chose that moment to slowly pull out of you.

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. Stretching you out had been ecstatic, but this feeling was agonizing. Her thumb pressed over your clit, your walls releasing her cock, bit by bit. Using magic could’ve definitely make this process easier for you, but Wanda wasn’t really looking to make it easier for you.

She pulled out slowly, slower really than she had to, but she loved seeing your walls all stretched around her, your clit fluttering under her thumb.

"You're doing so well for me, sweetheart. Be good, and don't fight it, baby."

Your body couldn’t decide between whines, cries and moans, letting it all out. Wanda basked in the display of pleasure and pain. She loved how your body writhed underneath her, constantly switching between pulling her closer and pushing her away.

Wanda was in total control of your body, just the way she liked it. Her fingers slid up your stomach to your breast and started to toy with your nipples, squeezing and pulling on them. All the painful sensations combined into a pleasure wave, slowly drifting over you.

She paused the movement of her hips for a few seconds, cruelly tracing your thin walls around her cock. Your whines turned into sobs, your body practically vibrating with all the sensations, until she finally took pity on you. Her thumb returned to your clit, the other hand held onto your squirming hips. Her lips found your ear, praising you in hushed tones as she finally pulled out of you.

A final small orgasm pulled out of you, relief flooding your whole body.

Without her cock inside you, your combined cum started flooding out of you, soaking the sheets underneath you.

Wanda's finger swirled through it and pushed some of it back into your stretched entrance. You whined and tried to pull away from her.

"Stay still, baby. I can't have all of this sweetness go to waste. Have to plug you up next time, to make sure to keep all of my cum inside."

Your struggle quickly faded. Your body was overwhelmed, unable, and unwilling to fight Wanda. After all, she knew what was best for you.

Four wet fingers easily pushed the cum back into you, her thumb finding your clit, overstimulation sending you into another quick orgasm, squeezing weakly around her fingers.

"Good job, baby, let me fill you up."

Wanda pulled you closer by your hips, propping your ass up onto her thighs. Your legs fell open, exposing your wide entrance to Wanda's hungry gaze. Your body felt heavy, too heavy to really move, but you knew Wanda would handle your body into any position she wanted it. You didn’t have to think about moving or anything besides breathing, though your body mostly managed that on its own.

"You're perfect like this, sweetheart, all open and ready for me."

Even though you were still incredibly overstimulated, Wanda's praise could easily push you into compliance.

"Wanna be good for you, mommy." Your whispers were barely loud enough to be heard, but Wanda would've caught them over the sounds of bombs raining from the sky.

"Then just lay still and let me fill you up, baby. Gotta make sure my seed takes root."

Your eyes fluttered, and it became difficult to keep them open. You caught glimpses of Wanda stroking her cock eagerly, staring at your freshly fucked pussy.

"Fill me up, mommy, want you to breed me."

Wanda loved you. She really did. Especially when you were fucked-out exhausted but still so incredibly horny. She was glad she hadn't managed to fuck that out of you yet.

She stroked herself while slowly circling your clit, delighted to see your pussy quivering, trying and failing to squeeze around anything. You couldn’t move a muscle even if you wanted to. Wanda would fuck you for as long as she wanted to, so there was no reason for you to move anyway.

The sight in front of her and the thought of breeding you finally pushed her into her second orgasm of the morning. The first ropes of cum landed over your stomach and hips. She kept fisting her cock and aimed at your still gaping entrance, the rest of her cum dripped into you.

Her thumb brushed your clit, making you squeeze around her cum.

Another short but intense orgasm made sure her cum stayed where it should and brought silent tears to your eyes.

"So good for me baby, you did so well. I love how hungry your pussy is for my cum. Love to see my little angel clench around nothing but my cum."

A smile bloomed on your face, and Wanda brushed away the tears from your cheek, mixing with the cum still on her thumb.

"Such a pretty angel. Cry for me, baby."

Crying after an intense orgasm wasn't new for you. And this had been the most intense experience of your life, so Wanda wasn't surprised by your reaction. The fact that it turned her on even more was also a benefit. The tears kept falling, and Wanda kept brushing them away, smiling down at you.

"Getting my thumb all wet, baby, and wet fingers are only good for one thing."

Her featherlight touch had barely left your face when you felt it once again on your clit. You stiffened. You couldn't. Not again. It was too much.

"Can you give me one more, angel? Just one more, and then you can sleep, I promise. Just have to make sure that you take mommy's cum as deep as you can."

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were sure this wasn't necessary to get you pregnant, whether she had cum inside you, tip pushed against your cervix, or masturbating over your gaping hole.

Your body fought against overstimulation. You wanted to be good for Wanda. To give her what she wanted. She was relentless, brushing over your clit. Quietly praising you. Telling you about all the other ways she wanted to breed you until you were finally pregnant and maybe even after that.

Your body slowly came alive again, pleasure reaching out its fingertips.

"Look at me, baby."

Wanda waited until your eyes fluttered open and anchored onto her own. She smiled at you, then looked down at your abused pussy and let her spit drip onto your clit. Your eyes rolled back, and your body quivered under her presence.

With the last vestiges of her sanity intact, Wanda pulled up your hips until her tongue could reach your clit. It barely took a few licks to catapult you into one last orgasm, long and intense, Wanda sucking on your clit throughout until you finally lost all strength in your body.

She carefully lowered you, pulled a pillow under your hips to keep them inclined, and finally laid down next to you, pulling you into her arms.

"Sleep, baby. You did so well for mommy, I’m so proud of you."

You barely registered the praise before you lost consciousness and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

[svetamillss]

Headcanons: Your life together with them🩵

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Kang Dae Ho x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f), Park Gyeong Seok x Reader(f), Nam Gyu x Reader(f)

Summary: various joint situations when you live with them.

A/N: I apologize for writing a little less often!

🩵🩵🩵

Cho Hyun Ju

Since the girl served in the army and got used to discipline, she will follow it while living with you. She always wakes up much earlier than you, about three hours, where you can sleep until 9-10 a.m., in some cases even before lunch if you get very tired. While you are sleeping, Hyun Ju will do a lot of things around the house (quietly so as not to wake you up), cook you a delicious breakfast and go to wake you up.

She will do it gently and carefully, stroking and kissing you wherever she wants. You sometimes grumble and tell her to lie down and sleep with you in a hug, but it doesn't affect her, so she continues to wake you up with kisses.

- Baby, it's time to get up, your favorite breakfast is already getting cold. And we have a lot to do. - she says gently, kissing your sweet lips.

After a couple of minutes, you still wake up and sleepily go to eat what your Hyunnie has prepared for you with love.

Kang Dae Ho

The guy has a lot of fun living with you. After all, you have new ideas almost every day. Again, recently you wanted to lose weight by the summer, you decided to run every morning. But it wasn't very good alone, so you forced your boyfriend to join you.

- So you want us to wake up at 7 a.m. on our weekend and run down the street when normal people will sleep? - he didn't understand at all why you need it, because you were beautiful.

- And you will run with me for the company! - Dae Ho only had to agree, he didn't want to offend you.

And he knew that soon you would get tired of it and you would throw away this idea, so he decided to be patient.

Thanos (Su Bong)

You and the guy were complete opposites to each other. It was especially seen with household items. Su Bong was dirty. He constantly left his clothes all over the apartment: socks in the corners, clothes were lying on the backs of chairs. You were very unhappy with it, okay, unwashed dishes, but these are extremes.

- Can you stop scattering your clothes? Can't you put the clean ones in the closet, and throw the dirty ones in the laundry. I'm tired of cleaning up after you like a little child. - you mumbled when you removed his clothes from the chair again, while he was sitting on the phone.

- Yes, yes, good. - he said without much attention.

- If this happens again, all your things will fly to the trash!

- I got it, just don't be angry, my baby. - he put down the phone and started cleaning everything, then you rewarded him with a kiss.

But he won't be able to get used to it, so he'll still leave his things, but he's ready to clean up for your extra kisses.

Park Gyeong Seok

The three of you lived in a small apartment: you, your future husband and his daughter Na Yeon. Since the girl was undergoing treatment, she often stayed at home. But you and the man didn't want her to be alone, so you decided to take a housework and sit with Na Yeon.

You and the girl played a lot of her favorite games. She is very attached to you and even calls you mom.

When a man comes home from work, the girl asks him to join you and he, though tired, agrees, because he can't refuse his beloved girls.

Sometimes you and the girl like to mock him, so you can make up him with different makeup.

- Dad now a real princess! - said Na Yeon when she painted Gyeong Seok with children's cosmetics, you just laughed at this whole situation and at the face of a man who was both grumpy and smiling.

Nam Gyu

The guy loves cats very much, but since you both work a lot, you can't get a pet yet, but Gyu really wants to, so he started feeding street cats.

He thinks there's nothing wrong with that, but he was wrong. The cats are used to the fact that the guy began to feed them and they began to come to your house en masse, meowing and asking for food.

When you saw this, you were furious, you immediately called the guy and he had a shy face, he knew what was going on.

- Gyu, do you want to explain to me what's going on with cats here?

- Well... I fed them a little, it looks like they got used to it.. - you looked at him with an evil face, although you understood that he not on purpose.

- Now you will clean up after them, so that there is not a single shit from them! - you said and entered the house, he only agreed with you.

After this situation, the guy began to feed these pets less often, and you began to think that maybe you would give Nam Gyu a kitten.

🩵🩵🩵

[always-azriels-princess]

The Wrong Thing part two

Guysss i did it :) im so proud

Summary: the mate bond snaps, and you say the wrong thing

Part 1

Word Count: 1.4K

Azriel was avoiding you. You knew it, he knew it, the entire Inner Circle knew it. Feyre had tried to approach you a couple times to figure out what had happened, but you never answered the knocks on your door.

It was embarassing, and yet you completely understood why your mate didn't want you. The haunted look in his eyes that night appeared in your nightmares each night, and each one ended with you waking up, slicked with sweat and panting as if just finishing a marathon.

Bags had started to form under your eyes from the lack of sleep, and Azriel wasn't looking much better. You had overheard Rhys talking to Feyre on multiple occasions about how Azriel was getting unfocused during missions, sloppy during training, and quick to anger in simple conversations.

You knew you had to fix your mistake, but it was hard to think of how your mate would look at you, like he never wanted to see you again. And you didn't even blame him, you wouldn't want to see yourself either after what you had done.

"No."

The words hung around your neck, suffocating you every second of every day like a noose growing tighter and tighter. Rhys had also noticed your work as a diplomat for the Night Court was diminishing in its thoroughness.

Nuala knocked on your door, as you were deep in some paperwork updating the new peace treaty with Winter. "Come in," you called.

"Good afternoon miss," Nuala said as she walked in. "The High Lord would like to see you in his office."

You sighed, expecting something like this after on your and Azriel's actions in the past week. "Thank you Nuala, I'll be right there."

The chair scraped back after you stood up, shuffling the papers and stuffing them in a drawer.

Dread coiled in your gut as you made your way to the High Lord's office, worried he would make you confront what you had been trying so hard to hide from.

You knocked thrice quietly, hoping Rhys had maybe left to go get a snack and you could sneak back into your room. To no avail, you heard a faint "come in," and you took a deep breath before pushing the door open.

The breath you had previously took escaped you as you gazed over every inch of the shadowsinger, completely ignoring the High Lord sitting at his desk, smirking with his "I'm so amazing" face.

As you drank in the image of your mate, his shadows clung to him, wrapping around his body like a second skin, while others writhed around his feet, swarming and twisting in chaotic patterns. The tension in the room increased ten-fold and the air around Azriel began to darken, his very presence sucking in the light around him. His adam's apple bobbed as he traced your every curve, as if committing the image to memory.

You just stood in the doorway, both you and your mate frozen, staring at each other, before Rhys cleared his throat and you snapped out of your trance, breaking your eye contact with your mate. As you sat down on the opposite side of the couch Azriel was on,

"Now, you probably know why I called you in," Rhys explained. "This," he gestured wildly, waving his hands between you two, "needs to stop. Azriel, you've almost completely dropped your training schedule, and I have reports from your informants that you're missing their check-ins." He turned to you, "And you are three days behind on the paperwork for the Winter Court peace treaty renewal."

Rhys sighed and stood up, walking towards the door. Before exiting the room, he turned back and said, "I don't know what's going on with you two, and I'm not going to snoop through your heads to figure it out, but something clearly happened, so you can leave this room when you are back to normal." With a wave of his hand, the door closed behind him as he walked away, and you could hear the soft click of the lock turning, keeping you stuck in a room with male who wanted nothing to do with you.

The air in the room was thick, suffocating. The silence between you and Azriel seemed to stretch endlessly, like the tension before a storm. He sat on the couch across from you, his posture rigid, every muscle in his body taut, like he was ready to shadow away at any second.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him at first. The guilt gnawed at your insides, raw and jagged, but you forced yourself to breathe, slow and steady, to calm the racing in your chest. The room was too quiet, and yet every sound felt amplified. The way his shadows whispered, curling and slithering at his feet, the way his eyes seemed to burn into you from across the room.

He was avoiding you, but you were avoiding him too.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat, suffocating you before they even had a chance to leave your lips.

Azriel spoke first, his voice low and strained. "You don’t have to do this." It was almost a whisper, his words laced with pain and, not anger...no, something more vunerable. Insecurity.

"Do what?" you finally managed, your voice sounding foreign to your own ears. "Talk about it?"

His voice was low and strained. "You have already made your feelings very clear, and I would never try to force you into anything you don't want."

You sat up, confused. "Az, I never said I didn't want the bond. I was overjoyed when it snapped, but I....I panicked because I know that you deserve someone better than me."

His beautiful hazel eyes softened. "But...you said no. The bond snapped and you said no." His voice was getting louder and faster as he spoke. "You were right, you shouldn't want this bond, I'm broken and scarred, and you're so....so perfect."

An ache spread through your chest, as though all the fragile pieces of your heart had shattered at once, leaving sharp fragments to tear at your insides.

"Azriel," your voice cracked as tears filled your eyes. You shifted closer on the couch, until your legs were brushing against his. "I told you this that night, and I will tell you again. You. Are. Not. Weak. You are not broken, you are not scarred, you do not have a single flaw unless it is loving your family too much. I can never take back what I said that night, and I will replay that moment in my head for the rest of my life, praying to be able to go back in the past and change it. You have a such a pure heart, so do not think for one moment that you are not deserving of me. I am the one who doesn't deserve you." You finished your speech, a soft, uneven breath escaping you.

Azriel stared into your soul, his eyes softening with wonder and adoration. He smiled softly as he drew closer. When you felt his warm breath on your face, he murmured, "Why don't we just agree that we both deserve each other," and closed the distance between you. His lips met yours, and it was like the world fell away and the only thing that mattered was the male in front of you. His hand slid from your face to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. It was slow, unhurried, like you both had all the time in the world. You smiled against his lips, fingers threading through the dark strands of his hair as you leaned into him, deepening the kiss.

The taste of him, the feel of him, was overwhelming in the best way. It was like coming home, like a storm finally releasing the tension it had held for so long. You regretfully pulled away, resting your forehead against his. You were finally home.

The peace of the moment was shattered as the door was thrown in, what seemed to be the entire court of Velaris pushing themselves through. Cassian laughed deeply, sweeping Az off the couch and hugging him "Finally!" he exclaimed. Mor, who was bawling her eyes out, flung herself at you, knocking yourself back against the couch. "THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL!" You paused for a second, then laughed and hugged her back.

Rhys came in with Feyre on his arm, looking all too smug. "I told you Feyre darling, I'm a genius."

Feyre smacked him upside the head.

@lilah-asteria >3 ilsym you are my first tag ever and i'm so grateful for the support so thank youuuu

[alexsnerdycorner]

Animalistic (Logan X Reader smut)

Title: Animalistic

Word Count: 2079

Warning: Smut, slight exhibitionism (if you squint), kitchen sex, oral (f and m receiving), PIV sex, multiple orgasm (f)

Fandom: X-Men/X-Men Movies

Pairing: Logan X Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature, Explicit

Request: I need someone to write a Logan Howlett x reader where reader can communicate with animals and she finds out she can also hear logan’s thoughts (bc that man IS an animal lets be real) at first she doesn’t realize who’s /what’s thoughts she is hearing but gets closer with logan and realizes it’s him when he starts thinking about her

Tags: @grapejollyrancher @pinkiemme

Summary: You’re a mutant who can communicate with animals. Lately you thought you’ve been going crazy, getting images and feelings when there were no animals around. One night you wake from a weird nightmare and find Logan in the kitchen. You soon discover that the nightmare was Logan’s and that you’re not going crazy, but that you can communicate telepathically with him. Smut ensues.   

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get up. I’ve had lots to do with work and personal life. I also got sick five times since September. I also made it so the reader can see his thoughts more than hear them – you’ll see how it works out.

Work:

From a young age you could communicate with animals. You got feelings and flashes of images from them. You discovered it first with your friend’s dog. Whenever you were over there you felt happiness radiating off of him and glimpses into his mind. When the dog was hungry you would get images of kibble and feelings of hunger. You would always be the first to know when the dog needed to go outside and use the bathroom.

When you were a young adult your parents discovered your abilities and sent you to live at the Xavier institute. You loved it there. Mostly because it was quiet and there was very little animal activity. You studied there for a little while and then became an animal sciences teacher.

When a man named Logan and a girl named Rogue came to the institute things began to get more complicated. You would feel angry, agitated, or afraid for no apparent reason. You would get images – no memories that weren’t your own. You thought you were going crazy. You were too scared to even tell the Professor.

One night you woke after a terrible nightmare. Too afraid to go back to sleep, you trudged down to the kitchen and found Logan there.

“Hey, Y/N” He said, “What are you doing up? It’s almost midnight.”

“I could ask you the same thing, Logan” You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. You suddenly felt parched as if you hadn’t drunk anything all day.

“Touche” Logan opened the fridge. He grabbed a soda out, opened it and chugged the contents. Your feelings of thirst were suddenly gone. Weird.

“I had a nightmare and I’m afraid to go back to sleep,” You finally admit to your friend.

Logan let out a mirthless laugh, “You and me both, bub. Wanna talk about it?”

“I…I don’t want to sound crazy,” you said. Pulling at the hem of your nightgown. Logan looked over at you with an unreadable expression. Flashes of male hands sensually roaming a female body went through your mind.

“You could never sound crazy,” Logan said.

“I don’t know about that,” you let go of your nightgown’s hem and crossed your arms across your chest. You looked away from Logan and felt a heat wash over you as you got glimpses of a man kissing a woman’s breasts.

“Try me,” he responded drawing you out of your visions.

“Okay, well, I was in this lab of sorts and my body was hooked up to these wires and tubes and stuff. And I was submerged in water or something and I was in pain. Lots and lots of pain. I looked over to a man, Stryder, I think, and get so angry at him I want to kill him, but I don’t. I don’t know why I don’t. But I pull all the tubes and wires and stuff off my body and start to run but then feel a sharp stinging pain and then I woke up,” You looked back up at Logan whose eyes were wide.

“Stryker. His name was Stryker,” Logan said quietly.

“Yes, how did you…” You trailed off.

“Because that’s my nightmare. My past,” he threw the bottle of soda away.

“What? How… Why?” You stuttered.

“I don’t know, Y/N.” Logan said, “Let’s go to the professor in the morning and see if he knows what is going on.”

“No! I’m not crazy. It was just a coincidence. Must be,” You shrugged.

“I never said you were,” Logan held out a hand to calm you. He licked his lips and you received flashes of a man undressing a woman with a similar nightgown to yours. You felt wetness pool in your panties.

Could it be? No, you thought. It can’t be him.

“Quick, logan, what are you thinking right now,” You spoke up.

“What? I don’t see – ” He began.

“Just tell me.” You interrupted.

“I…Y/N, I don’t see how this is relevant.” His face turned bright red.

“You’re thinking about me, aren’t you.”

“Well, I am talking to you.”

“But you’re thinking of me in a different way than just talking to me, aren’t you Logan? You’re thinking about fucking me, aren’t you.”

“What are you on about, Y/N?” Logan cleared his throat.

“I think I know why I had your nightmare. I can communicate with you like I can with animals, can’t I?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Logan denied it but you knew deep down that it was true.

“Stop lying, please. Ever since you and Rogue arrived several months ago, things have been different for me. I thought I was going crazy and just seeing and feeling things without an explanation.  But it’s been you this whole time, hasn’t it.” You said without taking a breath.

“I suspected a little after we first met. I could feel you in my mind.” Logan sighed, “But it was all just suspicions. I didn’t know for sure, not until just now when you told me about the nightmare.”

“So, what were you just thinking about, Logan?” You stepped towards him while maintaining eye contact.

“Princess, I think you know.” He cleared his throat.

“I do. But I want to hear you say it,” you closed the remaining gap so that he was inches away from you.

“I was thinking how damn fine you look in that fucking nightgown.” He purred, “And I was wondering how you would look without it.”

“Well, there is only one way to find out, isn’t there” you smirked and looked up at him through your heavy eyelids.

In a flash Logan’s mouth was on top of yours, kissing you hungrily.

“My room.” You said between kisses.

“No. Here.” Logan growled while his fingers grazed the hem of your nightgown and his mouth moved to your neck. You let out a moan and your hands roamed his chest over his white t-shirt.

“We’ll get caught, Logan,” you whined.

“If anyone is up past midnight, they deserve to catch a show.”

You would have cared more but the ache you felt for him was too strong. You nudged his lips up to yours and bit onto his bottom lip.

“Oh, look whose got the animalistic tendencies now.” Humor shone in his eyes.

You giggled and went back to kissing him. Logan ran his large hands up your thighs and hooked them onto your nightgown hem. He took the hem and lifted. You complied and he took the nightgown off your body and threw it to the floor. He then moved onto your soaked panties. WHen he saw the pool of wetness in them, he grinned. 

He took some time to look at your naked body. To soak your beauty in. When he had enough of the view he ran his rough hands over your soft breasts, toying with your nipples. He brought his lips down to your breasts and pressed a kiss between the two.

“Ya know, I’ve wanted to do this since I met ya, princess.”

You smirked at him and removed his shirt, “Really? Is there anything else you’ve been wanting to do?”

“Well, yeah, a couple of things, actually. Now that you ask.”

You put your hands on the buckle to his belt and pull it. It releases, “I see. Care to share with the class, Mr. Logan?”

He put his hands over yours and pulled his belt off, tossing it onto his shirt. He popped the button of his jeans and undid the zipper. Then the thought of you sucking a long thick cock came into your head. Logan smiled at you. You returned it and got on your knees. You pulled down his pants and boxers, allowed him to step out of them and then looked up at your daunting task. He was huge. While a little above average length, he was very girthy. Your hand couldn’t fit around him on its own if you tried. You lifted your lips to his cock and gently kissed the tip of it.

”Fuck,”  He let out a gruff moan, “y/n.”

The corners of your mouth turned upwards as you took him into your mouth. You moved your mouth forward and back while you found his eyes locked onto yours. His eyes worshiped you even from this position. Soon you felt his cock twitch in your mouth. Logan pulled back and he slipped out of your mouth. 

“Princess, if you keep it up, I won’t be able to fuck you the way I can smell you need it. Now get up here and kiss me.”

You obeyed. His cock was squished between the two of you. Logan pushed you back into the counter, lifted you up, and sat your bare ass on it. You yelped at the cold granite counter top. Logan stopped in his tracks and looked at you with concern. 

“I’m okay, just cold,” You reassured him.

“Well, let's fix that,” he smirked and knelt down on the floor in front of you. Logan steadied his rough calloused hands on your thighs and bent his head toward your core. You felt a warm wet tongue lick a strip up to your clit. You sighed in pleasure. He worked his tongue and lapped at your clit as he hummed against you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, Logan.”

You could feel the scruff of his trim beard tickle the insides of your thighs as he smiled. You ran your hands through his headband tugged gently. He inserted a finger into your pussy and you gasped, not ready for him to do that so quickly. He worked his mouth and his fingers in unison. You squirmed under his touch. Logan added a finger to your pussy and you swore, “fucking hell.”

“You good, princess?” he said into your pussy, making brief eye contact with you. 

“Yeah,” you said breathily, “keep going, Logan, please.”

You didn’t need to ask him twice. He dove back into your core and licked in circles at the bud of your clit. You moaned and tried to squeeze your legs together, but Logan’s head and other hand stopped you from getting too far. You could feel the knot in your core tightening and tightening, it was not that far off from bursting. 

“I’m close, Logan, Really close.”

“I want you to cum on my mouth, princess,” he said gruffly against your core before returning to his pleasurable assault on your clit. 

Your hips involuntarily bucked up and you cried out Logan’s name. Pure bliss radiated throughout your body. Logan returned to his standing position and brought his lips to yours. You could taste your sweet juices on his lips. 

“Are you ready to take my cock, y/n?” 

You nodded, unable to speak yet. That was all Logan needed for him to pull you to the edge of the counter, line himself up to your entrance, and push his way into your soaking core. He gave you a moment to adjust to his size before he started to buck his hips slowly. You wrapped your legs around his waist. He hit your g-spot once, twice, and three times. You moan his name loudly and scratch your nails down his back. In return he pulled your hair not too gently but not enough to really hurt you.

“y/n,” he growled, “do that again and I might just finish before we’re done” 

You drew him in deeper with your legs. He grunted. Your hands roamed his entire body. His one hand toyed with your boob while the other was a steady constant on your back. 

He shifted you to hit your g-spot again. And you shouted out in excitement. The knot in your sore was tangling again. 

“Logan, I’m close.” You whispered into his ear. 

“Me too, Princess.” He thrust into you to punctuate each word. 

He sped up slightly. The knot came undone and you came on his cock. His moves became erratic. And he was not too far after you to spill his seed inside of you. He stayed inside you for a moment as the two of you hung onto each other and panted. 

When you pulled apart he looked you in your eyes and spoke softly, “come to bed with me, maybe company will stave off the nightmares?”

You nodded, still unable to speak. Slowly, the two of you dressed and went up to his room.

You fell asleep in his arms and slept the night away without any more nightmares.

[c0s-lettuce]

Would you be able to a Sergei, where he has a child with someone from his past. He doesn’t know about the child for three years but once somehow finds out he tracks them down to find them and meet his kid (honestly could be a boy or a girl)

blissfully unaware - sergei kravinoff x fem!reader

synopsis: for the last three years, you've been raising your daughter, emilia, by yourself. but when her father finds out, he wants to be a part of your lives again.

word count: 2225

a/n: thanks for the request, i had fun writing this! it wasn't specified, but i wrote this as an x reader, hope that's alright! disclaimer, i do not know what three year olds are like, so i apologise if anything is inaccurate.

It was a chance meeting. You and Sergei were like two passing ships. Even though things happened fast, you thought you had found the one. You were sure he felt the same. It was months of pure bliss before one day when you woke up alone.

The world shifted when you first saw those two lines. You felt lost for the first few weeks. You didn't know what to do or how to do it. But your friends and family supported you, and eventually, you decided it was for the best. You knew who Sergei was and what he did for a living. You didn't want your child to be a part of that.

When you held Emilia's little body in your arms for the first time, you fell in love with her instantly. After the tears and sleepless nights were over, life with your daughter was perfect. She was a sweet and thoughtful child. She rarely fussed over anything and had so much love in her heart.

It was hard not to think about Sergei at first. Emilia was a perfect combination of the two of you. Half of him and half of you. But as time passed, you forced him out of your mind and focused on your little girl. And in the blink of an eye, Emilia was already three years old.

That brings you to today, a Friday morning in the summer. It's been a long week, and you're looking forward to spending the weekend with your daughter, having promised to take Emilia to the beach. But first, you had to get her to preschool and get yourself to work.

You poke your head into Emilia's bedroom. She sleeps soundly, hugging a bunny plushie to her chest. You step over the toys scattered on the floor, stopping at her bed.

"Hey, baby," you kneel beside her, brushing the hair away from her face. "It's time to wake up."

Emilia scrunches her face in response. She hugs her bunny tighter and mumbles, "Not yet, mama."

"Yes, now," you say. "You've got a whole day ahead of you, Emmy."

Emilia let out a tiny whine, not giving up her sleep just yet, and you hold back a chuckle. Resorting to another method of waking her, you lean in and begin peppering kisses on her cheek.

She starts giggling immediately, trying to hide her face in her pillow. "Stop, that tickles!"

"It does, huh? What about now?" You add your hands into the mix, tickling her body with your fingers.

She squirms, giggling even more. "Mama, stop!"

You laugh as you withdraw your hands. Emilia looks up at you with bright eyes, hiding her smile behind her bunny.

You give her one last kiss on the nose. "Come on, girly. Let's go have some breakfast, yeah?"

Emilia nods, sitting up and holding her arms up to you. You pick her up, and she hugs your neck as you carry her to the dining table.

The morning goes by peacefully. Soon enough, the two of you are off for the day. You drop Emilia off at preschool. She gives you a kiss and says goodbye in a sweet little voice that always melts your heart.

It's a productive day for both of you. And that evening, you and Emilia go to the supermarket to pick up a few groceries. She trails beside you cheerfully since you agreed to buy her a box of fruit snacks.

You're currently looking at vegetables, Emilia's least favourite section. Your broccoli perusing is interrupted when a familiar voice calls your name. You turn and see a young man standing before you. He's dressed nicely. It takes a moment to place a name on the face.

You do a double take. "Dmitri?"

He grins, "Oh my god, it really is you. It's been, what? Four years?"

You pause for a moment. You were close to Dmitri for some time, having visited the restaurant many times. But you stopped talking to him when Sergei left.

You smile back, though yours is somewhat strained. "Wow, yeah. Just about, I think. What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see a show at the theatre nearby," he explains. "What about you?"

"I live here now," you tell him.

"Oh, that's great," he replies. "It's a nice area here, I-"

He trails off when he notices the little person beside you. A look passes Dmitri's face. It worries you, but he quickly replaces it with another smile.

"Who's this?" he asks.

You look down. Emilia's holding onto your leg, hiding slightly behind it. You place a hand on her head. "This is Emilia."

"Hi, Emilia," he greets her before looking back up at you. "Is she yours?"

"She is," you say cautiously.

"That's wonderful," he responds. "She looks like you."

"Thank you," you reply.

A somewhat awkward silence settles. Dmitri looks down at his watch.

"Well, I need to head off if I want to make it on time," he states. "It was good seeing you."

"Yeah, you too, Dmitri. See you around," you say.

He nods, looking down at Emilia. "Bye, Emilia."

Emilia waves him goodbye. She looks up at you curiously after he walks away and asks, "Who is that, mama?"

"Just an old friend, Emmy," you say.

"He has funny clothes," she replies.

"You're right, bub," you let out a chuckle, ruffling her hair. "Come on, just a few more things, and then we can go home."

Emilia takes your hand without a second thought. With one last glance towards Dmitri, you tell yourself not to worry and refocus on your shopping.

A week passes, and you start to forget about your interaction with Dmitri. It's a Sunday, and you're lounging at home. You have some time to yourself since Emilia is having a playdate with her friend.

But your peace is interrupted when someone knocks at your front door. When you go to answer, your heart drops. None other than Sergei Kravinoff is at your door, eyes wide and noticeably flustered.

"H-hey…" he stammers.

You stare at him, shocked. The man who has been a ghost for the past four years suddenly stands before you. And he looks a mess.

"Sergei," you regard him. "What are you doing here?"

He swallows visibly. You notice his eyes dart behind you, looking inside your home before settling back on you.

"Is she here?" he asks.

You feel your heart drop even more. He knows.

"No, she's over at a friend's place," you tell him.

"Oh," is all he says, his face an unreadable mix of emotions.

You shift uncomfortably, unable to meet his gaze. "How did you find out?"

"Dima told me he saw you," he explains. "The other day at the store."

You nod, unsurprised. A part of you anticipated something like this happening. You don't bother asking how he found out where you lived. You already know the answer.

You open the door for him. "You should come in."

Sergei enters, grateful but wary. He looks around at the living room. The place is covered with evidence of Emilia.

"She's mine, isn't she?" he asks.

"Yeah, she's yours," you reply.

He turns to face you. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"How was I supposed to, Sergei?" you retaliate. "You disappeared on me."

Sergei lets out a huff, knowing you're right. But still, he argues, "You could've reached out to Dima. Or done anything. You didn't even try."

"Would it have made a difference?" you ask. "Would you really have dropped whatever you've been doing for this?"

He hesitates. He wants to say yes but doesn't know if he can. Instead, he just looks around the room again.

You've never seen him look so defeated. A part of you feels guilty. But the other part feels resentful. Four years and not a single word. Now, he shows up out of the blue, demanding answers.

"Look," you begin. "I don't know what you've been doing all this time, but I've been living a good life with Emilia. And I don't plan on that changing."

Sergei shakes his head. "No, I wouldn't- I'm not here to cause you trouble, I just… I wish you told me."

The guiltier part of you starts to take over. "I'm sorry, Sergei."

"No, don't apologise," he says. "This is my fault."

You fall silent, thinking of nothing else to say. You can tell Sergei's mind is going a million miles an hour, so you give him some time to process things.

He speaks up after a few moments. "Do you think I could meet her? Please?"

You hesitate to answer. The thought of letting Sergei back into your life scares you. But you decide to give him a chance. He deserves to meet his daughter at least once.

"We'll both be home next Saturday," you tell him. "She usually naps around noon, so you could come over at two."

"Two o'clock. Alright, I'll be here," he says.

Sergei gives you his number and leaves shortly after, not wanting to bother you any longer. It feels strange to suddenly have a way to directly contact him. But you have a week until he comes over again, so you bide your time until then.

You're nervous all morning the next week, but Emilia is blissfully unaware. She wakes from her nap and is already back to her toys, playing doctor with her plushies. You watch her from the kitchen, drumming your fingers on the counter.

Sergei arrives at two on the dot. You steel yourself before answering the door. He stands there looking just as anxious but greets you with a smile.

"Hey," he holds out a bouquet of flowers. "These are for you."

You accept the gift, noticing he still remembers your favourite. "Thank you, Sergei. Come in."

Sergei follows you inside. You place the flowers down and lead him to where Emilia is playing. He needs a moment to take her in. She has a head of wavy hair and chubby cheeks. He can see himself in her. He sees you, too. And just like you three years ago, he falls in love instantly.

You take a seat on the floor beside her, getting her attention. "Hey, Emmy. There's someone who would like to meet you."

You look towards Sergei, and Emilia follows your gaze.

Sergei kneels in front of her, holding out his hand. "Hi there, Emilia. I'm Sergei."

Emilia looks back at you, and you give her a reassuring nod. She timidly reaches out to shake his hand but doesn't say anything. Her hand is comically small in his. She retracts her arm, and you notice her shuffle closer to you.

Sergei smiles, gesturing to her toys. "These are cool. Are you a doctor?"

Emilia seems to light up a bit at his question and nods.

"You know, Em," you speak up. "Sergei told me he was feeling a bit sick. Do you want to give him a check-up?"

Emilia nods again, seeming a bit more enthusiastic now. She's always happy to show off her toys and medical skills. It takes a few minutes, but Emilia starts warming up to Sergei. You step away to let them play and can't help but smile as you watch them.

Sergei commits to the part, even pretending to be unconscious on the floor. Emilia pokes him with her equipment in an attempt to revive him. She's all giggles and smiles by the end of the afternoon. After dragging you over to also get a check-up, Emilia introduces Sergei to her plushies, and he offers his highest praise for each of them.

Soon enough, the afternoon is over. You'll need to start getting Emilia fed, bathed and into bed. But, of course, she complains when you say it's for Sergei to go. She pleads for him to stay for dinner. Sergei, however, doesn't want to overstay his welcome, so he makes an excuse for himself. Emilia relents and gives him a hug goodbye.

You walk Sergei to the door. Stepping outside, you're greeted by the cool evening breeze. He faces you, a tentative look on his face.

"Thanks for coming," you speak up first.

"Thanks for having me," he says. "I'd like to do this again."

"Yeah," you reply. "I'm sure Emilia would like that too."

Sergei smiles, and a moment of silence passes. He takes this time to take you in. Really take you in. You've changed over the years. But you aren't even a bit less beautiful.

He takes this opportunity to continue. "And what about her mother? Think she and I could spend some time together as well?"

You crack a smile. "I don't get much free time these days, Sergei. But let's go with a maybe."

"Maybe," he nods. "I can work with maybe."

Silence falls between the two of you again. Sergei is reluctant to leave but knows he can't linger. He reaches for your hand, lifting it up to kiss the back of it.

"Thank you," he says. "I'll see you soon?"

"See you soon, Sergei," you reply.

Sergei offers one last smile and lets your hand slip from his. He begins walking away and looks back to see Emilia waving at him through the window. Sergei waves back, filled with a new resolve. He's not going to screw up this time.

➸

[scented-morker]

Skz when their overworked idol!gf faints

thank you to the anon that requested this!! it is LONG and idk why I gave so much backstory for all of them, but yolo! 2.3k words, fainting and overworking, a couple mentions of weight loss, worried and stressed skz. I fear this qualifies as angst

Chan

He's plenty familiar with the signs of being overworked

He's been trying to support you in any way possible, sending you meals to the company building and convincing you to get rest

You feel bad about giving the food away to your members and texting him goodnight while still working, but you're just too much of a perfectionist

He's excited to be on music bank at the same time as you because he's been having girlfriend withdrawals bc of how busy you were

So so happy watching you and your group rehearse, fawning over your oversized hoodie and little dance moves

But right as the dance break ends he sees you go down

Is nervous that you tripped, but he's sure you'll get back up fine and he'll just kiss your boo boos later

But then you don't get up, and he sees your members start yelling for help

When he realizes you passed out 🙃

Screw being secretive, he's jumping up onto the stage, taking his hoodie off and using it to prop your head up, interrogating all of your members about the last time you ate and your sleep schedule

He tells your manager that under no circumstances are you performing anytime soon

You're stuck laying in the green room with doctors surrounding you until the show is over and then instead of being sent home, Chan is taking you himself

You WILL BE TAKEN CARE OF, and that is a threat

Spends the next week fawning over you, cooking you meals and cuddling you half to death

"You scared me, angel. Let me take care of you now."

Minho

When I tell you he's pissed

He was so excited when you told him about your multiple stages for the golden disk awards

Until you're at three rehearsals a day along with fittings, photo shoots, and appearances

He loves that you're booked and busy, but not THAT BOOKED

He wakes up to your goodnight and good morning texts only hours apart and he cant think of the last time you were home for dinner

He's sent multiple paragraphs to your manager and emailed your company, to no response

He keeps telling himself he just has to make it through the award show and then everything will calm down

However, the lights going down at the end of your stage aren't dark enough to hide you fainting half way off the stage, and he doesn't even notice when he jumps to his feet

He gets yelled at to sit back down, and he only does so in order to grab his phone and call your manager ten times until they pick up

"Oh my gosh she's fine, stop calling."

"She just fainted on stage. She's not fine. Where are you?"

They don't want to tell him, but he pries the information out of them and soon he's tearing off backstage to find you

He kicks everyone out, and he looks so scary that they actually listen

"I'm sorry," your voice sounds so small, still weak from fainting and worried that he's mad at you

But he just shushes you, sitting down on the couch you're stretched out on and pulling you into him

"It's ok baby. You did so good. My strong girl. Just rest."

You sigh into the crook of his neck and he holds you backstage for the rest of the show, idol image be damned

Changbin

HIS BABY IS MAKING HER SOLO DEBUT

He could not be happier or prouder if he tried

He knows it's a lot of work, especially since you're producing and writing all of the songs yourself

He tells himself that he's overreacting, it's normal to see less of you when you're working on such a big project

But you always feed him with updates and stories about your day

So when he hasn't heard from you in three whole days, he's showing up at your stage rehearsal

He doesn't care what anyone says, he needs to physically see you or he's going to have a heart attack

He's relieved when you walk on stage, because at least you're alive

But it doesn't take very long for him to notice the dark bags under your eyes or the way your hand is shaking around your microphone

The second you hit the ground he's running

A background dancer carries you off stage, and they barely hit the curtain before he's snatching you out of their grasp

He walks with you so gently, sitting down on a couch and cradling you while the nurse takes your vitals

He's the first thing you see when you open your eyes and it squashes all of the fear that had filled your gut about what just happened

"Hi doll." He coos, and you give him a tiny smile

"I missed you"

Once you're cleared he's ordering takeout to his dorm and taking you home

Your performance is postponed because Changbin still hasn't put you down a week later

Hyunjin

He knows how excited you were to be going on tour for the first time, and that reminder has been the only thing getting him through

Every time you're meant to come home your company adds another night or a new leg, and Hyunjin is SICK OF IT

Poor guy has not seen his girlfriend in OVER A MONTH

He loves you so much that he watches clips of every show and performance

And he knows you so well that he notices the hollowness of your cheeks and the way you've started to struggle to keep up your energy on stage

Buys a ticket right then and there to your next show, not trusting anyone else to take care of you

He's standing in the wings as you and your group finish your first set of songs, rushing off stage to change outfits

He legit screams when you go down, and if the fans didn't notice before they definitely did after that

One of your members picks you up and soon there's a flurry of people running around trying to make sure you're ok

The other girls are shooed away to go change, with a manager insisting "the show must go on"

Hyunjin sends the man what is quite possibly the dirtiest look to ever exist

When you come to, your boyfriend is holding onto you for dear life, fighting away any staff member that tries to talk to you or coax you back onto the stage

He takes you back to your changing room and locks the door, feeding you small bites like a child and stroking a hand through your hair

"Don't worry about them, be here now. I got you."

Jisung

He's shocked when you casually mention news of your comeback at lunch together one day

"Aren't you not even done with this promotion yet? How are you already having another comeback?"

You shrug, saying something about your brother group not doing very well revenue wise and your boss wanting to take advantage of your groups current success

Jisung frowns at that, but decides to keep it to himself, surely as your companies main money maker you'll be well taken care of

But then you don't come home after your music bank performance because you have to run to a dance rehearsal

And then you have to cancel date night to re-record an entire song

Jisung shows up at the first sound check for your new comeback, and you happily give him a kiss before heading onto stage with your group

He frowns, worried about how small you felt in his arms and how weak your hold on his hand was

He sees you teeter once, accidentally bumping into another member before fully crashing onto the stage

He feels like he can't breathe watching the girls try to get you up and responsive

Your fans are screaming and there's a paramedic running over

He's holding onto your hand the entire time your vitals are being taken, tears streaming down his face

Once you're cleared he's wrapping you in a blanket and holding onto you like you're made of glass

When you wake up he's promising to never ever let you out of his sight again

"We're becoming a duo. You're never allowed to scare me like that again."

Felix

He is worlds proudest boyfriend

He gets to watch HIS GIRL perform onstage AT COACHELLA

He'd spent the day with you, taking pictures of your festival outfit and reapplying your sunscreen to try and keep you safe while in the middle of the literal desert

You'd kissed him goodbye three hours before your stage was scheduled for, needing time to get ready and have some extra rehearsal time

He isn't sure why considering you'd had rehearsal every day this week while also making interview appearances and flying to different locations in between instead of sleeping

He's trying his best not to worry, but your eyes are looking hollowed and he isn't sure the last time you slept in an actual bed instead of a plan seat

It makes him sad to see you unable to give your best energy during the performance, though you even at 50% was still the most exciting performance of the day

He plans on being backstage when you exit after at least two more encores, but you apologize for no encore tonight and are only halfway off the stage when you go down

Let's out the worlds biggest gasp

He follows right behind the paramedic that carries you off the stage and into the back, refusing to be more than a foot away from you at all times

He calls and cancels the rest of your appearances himself, insisting that you need to be resting

You do not escape his hold or your bed for the next two days

"Just let me take care of you! You deserve some princess treatment right now."

Seungmin

He's so so excited that you're also at lalapalooza bc that means you guys can spend time together even tho you're working!!

You're even an mc, so he gets to stare at you on the screen backstage, which just so happens to be his favorite hobby

He wasn't expecting your group to actually perform considering you'd just finished the Japanese leg of your tour and had been performing every night for the last few weeks

But he sees your stage listed on that days performance list, and he frowns thinking about it

He'd made you tea last night after you'd showed up to his hotel room on the verge of losing your voice, and you were so tense when you laid down that he'd rubbed your back for almost an hour with no difference

"Are you sure you should be performing?" He asks as soon as he enters your changing room

"No, but it's just one more stage and then I get to rot in bed for a while. So I'll be okay."

He still doesn't like it, and he shakes his head but gives you a hug anyways, rubbing a soothing hand down your arm

"You better."

He's so stressed he can't stay in the boys waiting room and he stands under the stage as he watches the lift take you and your group up

He catches a glimpse of your performance from the monitor to his left, and he barely breathes until you're taking your last bows

It isn't until the stage starts moving to bring you back down that he sees you wobble uncertainly before falling onto the ground

All of your members jump in surprise, but they don't even have time to react before he's jumping up with them, the lift not even fully on the ground yet

He picks you up and lays you down on one of the spare blankets backstage, propping your head up against his torso while the rest of your body lays between his legs

His thumb rubs your cheek while the medical team checks you out, clearing you when you become responsive

You blink up at him slowly, eyes shiny from unshed tears

"I guess I was wrong."

He sighs, letting you bury yourself into his chest

"That's okay, I've got you now."

Jeongin

End of the year award shows were no joke, and Jeongin knew you were working hard for your performances

Your group had just finished promoting your last album when the never ending flood of award shows started, and he'd found you knocked out asleep in the most random places the past couple weeks

He hated that your group had such loud antis, because he knew how much pressure you were under to prove yourself

You'd told him about the strenuous dancing you were doing, learning borderline acrobatic tricks while conditioning like you were trainees all over again

He'd done his best to remind you to rest and slip protein bars into every bag you owned, but he knew you were past exhausted

He momentarily forgot his worrying when you were performing, and he let out cheers and danced with the rest of his group while you and your members put on an incredibly challenging performance

But all of the fun was drained out of the air when he saw you go down on stage as soon as the camera zoomed in on your maknae's ending fairy

The lights drop, and Jeongin whips his head around in every direction, trying to think of anything he can do to help

Hyunjin asks him to “go to the bathroom” with him as soon as you’re offstage, and that’s all the clearance Jeongin needs to go running backstage

You’re already awake when he finds you, small tears slipping down your face while you nurse on a water bottle

You can’t even say hi before he’s practically tackling you, pulling you so close that you can feel his own heartbeat in your chest

“Are you okay? Oh my gosh you scared me. Don’t ever do that again.”

Your members leave the two of you be while Jeongin clings to you, refusing to let you go for hours, constantly brushing his hands against your heartbeat

[hazelira]

love in the details

Jake stirred awake, his eyes blinking open to the soft light filtering through the curtains. He instinctively turned his head to check on the baby and froze. She was lying on her stomach, her tiny face smushed into the mattress, her little body sprawled out in an uncoordinated but somehow adorable position. Her hair was sticking out in all directions, a wild mess from her restless movements in her sleep.

A pang of worry shot through him, his instincts kicking in immediately. “Hey, little one,” he murmured softly as he sat up, careful not to startle her. Gently, he reached over and adjusted her position, turning her onto her side and making sure her face was no longer pressed into the mattress. The last thing he wanted was for her to have trouble breathing.

“There we go,” he said quietly, his voice low and soothing as he ran a hand over her messy hair in an attempt to smooth it down. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, her tiny lips parting as she let out a soft sigh. Jake felt his chest tighten at the sight—how could someone so small, so fragile, have such a hold on him?

As his gaze shifted downward, he noticed her socks were slipping off her pudgy little feet, one barely clinging to her toes while the other was halfway off. He shook his head with a faint smile, leaning down to adjust them. “You’re a little troublemaker even when you’re sleeping, huh?” he muttered under his breath, carefully pulling the socks back into place.

Once he was satisfied that she was safe and comfortable, Jake sat back for a moment, his gaze lingering on her. The wild mess of her hair, the way her chubby hands clutched at the blanket beneath her—it was all so chaotic and yet so endearing. He couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him, the sound soft and warm in the quiet room.

He glanced around and realized you weren’t in bed. Your side of the mattress was empty, but you’d strategically placed pillows around the baby, creating a makeshift barrier to keep her from rolling off. It was thoughtful, something he should’ve thought to do himself, and he felt a flicker of guilt at how much you always carried the weight of caring for her, even when you were exhausted.

The faint sound of movement downstairs caught his attention, and he realized you must’ve gone to make breakfast. For a moment, he debated staying in bed to watch over the baby, but the thought of you downstairs alone made him hesitate. You were still recovering from the fever, and he didn’t like the idea of you pushing yourself too hard.

Standing carefully so as not to disturb the baby, Jake pulled the blanket higher over her small frame, making sure she was snug and warm. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, the action instinctive and full of affection.

“You stay put, alright? No more wild sleeping positions,” he murmured softly, as if she could understand. He straightened and took one last look at her before heading toward the door, his footsteps quiet as he made his way downstairs.

The scent of breakfast greeted him as he descended, and he found you in the kitchen, standing at the stove with your back to him. You were moving slowly, clearly still not at full strength, but there was a determined set to your shoulders as you flipped something in the pan.

Jake paused for a moment, taking in the scene. You were wearing one of his oversized shirts, your hair tied back in a loose bun, and even though you looked tired, there was a calmness about you that made something in his chest ache.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” he asked, his voice soft as he stepped into the kitchen.

You turned, surprised to see him, and offered a small smile. “You looked like you needed the rest. She kept you up for a while, didn’t she?”

Jake shrugged, leaning against the counter as he watched you. “I don’t mind. She’s... persistent, but I think I’m getting used to it.” He paused, his gaze softening as it lingered on you. “You should’ve stayed in bed. You’re still recovering.”

“I’m fine,” you replied, though your voice lacked conviction. You turned back to the stove, but Jake was already moving.

“Go sit,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. Before you could protest, he gently took the spatula from your hand and nudged you toward the table. “I’ll finish this. You need to rest.”

You hesitated, but the look in his eyes—firm yet full of concern—made you relent. With a quiet sigh, you took a seat, watching as Jake effortlessly took over. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. For a man who was often cold and distant, moments like this reminded you that there was more to him beneath the surface.

As he worked, Jake glanced over his shoulder at you. “She’s still sleeping,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But her hair’s a disaster. I think she might’ve inherited that from you.”

You rolled your eyes, but the playful comment made you smile despite yourself. “Maybe she got it from you, Mr. Perfect.”

Jake chuckled softly, the sound light and unguarded. For a moment, the tension between you seemed to melt away, replaced by a quiet, shared understanding. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough.

my perm taglist<3 <- request here

@seonhoon @dollrincess @ethanatvre @rei4sunoo @shxhdsstuff @jakeflvrz @laylasbunbunny @jiiyen @saphiranishimurashan @lovelycassy @starry-eyed-bimbo @babyboomysweetie @24svnn @pinkglitterpuke @mellowgalaxystrawberry @heavenki

[tinfoil-jones]

Has Stan ever questioned Jerk Ford the reason why he is the only person he isn't a jerk to, since he's an a-hole even to the other members in their family?

"You don't know him like I do."

- Both Stans at the same time.

On Jerk Ford:

Throughout their lives, Stan insisted that just because Ford’s a jerk, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about anyone. He does care! Really! He just has a hard time showing it. No one ever believed him. You could just say that it’s a twin thing when Stan says something along the lines of “You don’t know him like I do” and they’re like well no shit he’s not a jerk to you. But, give Stanley some credit here, he’s more observant than you think he is.

---

Retired tech billionaire "Old Man" Fiddleford Hadron McGucket starts his mornings as he often does; going into his garage/workshop with a cup of coffee so he could re-tune his banjo for a few songs, quietly so as not to wake his wife.

He almost drops his cup of coffee when he see's theres something on his workbench that wasn't there last night.

A multitool.

One he hasn't seen in thirty years, but recognized instantly.

Carefully, he picks it and and inspects it, maybe it's just a replica.

FHM

Engraved in his late fathers handwriting, a loose scrawl that almost looked cursive if it weren't for the letters not being attached.

It's the same multitool. It's in pristine condition.

---

When they were just little boys, they were hiding behind the counter as their Pa was arguing with a customer, who ended up calling Filbrick a word they never heard before. Filbrick kicked the customer out, but it was clear he was more upset than he let off, in fact, he seemed almost sad, something neither twin had ever seen from their Pa. Filbrick then gave them a lecture that they can never repeat the word they just heard the man call him, because it was a very bad word that people used to insult and put down people 'of their faith'. 

A few minutes later, that same customer slipped on a banana peel that ‘came out of nowhere’, and sprained his ankle.

When they were a little older, Caryn was taking the twins out for a walk, when they passed a construction site and the construction workers started whistling at her, and giving her ‘compliments’ that she didn’t seem to like. She ignored it, but her little sons noticed her pace sped up and she almost rushed them away. 

That night, as those workers were double checking the work they’d done for the day, they were baffled to find that the concrete hadn’t set; the concrete had been tampered with, as if someone had poured a bunch of sugar in it while it was mixing. They’d have to redo it all over again, and it’d cost the company extra for the wasted concrete.

When the twins were in high school, Shermie, who had long since moved out but was visiting, was in tears telling their parents that his boss refused to give him the day off on the day his wife was due to give birth to their baby.

A week before the baby was born, his workplace was suddenly so badly infested with termites and roaches, that it would need two weeks to be properly fumigated, so the workers didn’t have to work while the fumigation was going on, and they’d still get paid because they were salary workers. Shermie was there with his wife when she gave birth to their son, and he got to dedicate a few days to just being with his wife and baby.

Their Ma would help out with Shermie's son sometimes, because both parents worked, but she also worked and would have her two younger sons help out with babysitting as well. And although Ford would gripe and complain about 'dealing with a brat all day', Stan had seen more than once that Ford would put the baby to sleep more than once by simply holding him in his arms and lying down with him, and also falling asleep.

In Backupsmore, Fiddleford was being bullied by a professor who looked down on him for being ‘a hick from an inbred, uneducated family’, and he was told to suck it up when he tried reporting her because she was tenured. In the middle of the year, she was unexpectedly replaced by a new, and much nicer, professor, and they were told their original professor was taking ‘an extended leave of absence’. 

She never came back, and it later came to light later on that the dean found a box full of documents and VHS tapes under his desk that hadn’t been there when he left his office the night before. All of which were extensive proof that the professor had been secretly embezzling the schools budget. 

When Ford comes back to their dimension after thirty years in the multiverse, no one who knew him from before is surprised that he’s still a huge indiscriminate jerk, and people who hadn’t personally known him but knew about him because of their yearly holiday that celebrated his disappearance were unpleasantly surprised to find out he was as bad as everyone said he was. And Stan didn’t necessarily disagree, but even after decades apart he could still see right through his twin as if he were made of rude glass.

Dipper's pens are suddenly indestructible to his chewing habit so no more mouthfuls of ink, and Mabel mysteriously never runs out of glitter; lately, it's also been more shimmery and almost... magical?

It doesn't matter where either of them fall asleep, they always end up waking up tucked into their beds, even though they told Grunkle Stan in the beginning of summer that they were too old to be carried and to just leave them wherever they’d crashed. 

Soos had been complaining all summer about his van making weird noises and having really poor mileage. Out of nowhere, Soos’s vehicle starts running like a dream and he’s getting ninety miles to a gallon, when it’s been twenty to the gallon at most as long as he’s had it.

Also, he didn't remember when he'd upgraded the graphics card of his home computer, but he sure is loving the higher FPS when he's playing video games.

Wendy is beside herself distressed and crying to Stan, Soos, and the Mystery Twins that her house had roof leak when a surprise summer rainstorm hit, and her favourite framed photograph of herself with her late mother was water damaged beyond repair, and is nearly unrecognizable.

The next day she asks her father when he’d made a copy of her photograph, and he replies that he has no idea what she’s talking about. She then takes a closer look at the newly framed picture she'd found on her desk that had been placed right next to her damaged one- did someone paint this…?

People assume that Ford only cares about his twin brother and no one else, because he's the only person he's never been a jerk to. But Stanley knows that isn't true; Ford loves just as strongly as he does, he just has a hard time letting people know.

As for Ford not being a jerk to him? Why would Ford bother, when Stan can see right through him? His twin is the only person who can see him, really see him.

---

Hours after Fiddleford had stormed out of the cabin with his bags in tow, Stanley looks over disheartened when he see's Stanford calmly place the multitool onto his own workbench.

"There were other ways to make him leave, Ford."

"I needed to make sure he wouldn't come back. That was too close of a call."

Ford had intended to give it back when the project was over, too bad it was on his belt when he was pushed into the multiverse.

[not-neverland06]

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙻𝚊𝚗𝚍’𝚜 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜

Pairing ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

A/N: Oh. My. God. I am so sorry this got delayed so many times. This is such an important chapter to me, it plays such a pivotal role in "Y/N's" development that I kept scrapping it and starting over. I didn't want to give this to you guys until it was perfect, and I think I've gotten about as close as I can. I'm predicting one more story chapter and then possibly one short epilogue.

Next Part - Hell Hath No Fury Series

Summary: Arthur's gone and you're own once more. The familiar ache of grief lingers as it always does. But the clouds must always part for light. Through death and grief, you still manage to find yourself.

It always seems to be cold at night, now that Arthur’s no longer there to keep you warm. You curl into yourself, knees tucked to your chest as you smother your face in the thin pillow on your cot. You press the fabric tightly to your mouth, trying to keep the sounds of your crying out of the other’s dreams. 

There should be no surprise that you’re on your own again. Beating a dead horse doesn’t make it move, but somehow, you keep finding yourself tangled in the reins, dragged along by the memory of men who’ve long since let go. You wonder, sometimes, if your life is one bet of many between god and the devil, seeing which one of them can get you to break first.  What you could have done to draw their ire, you don’t know, but you’re not sure how much more pain and loss you can handle. Your lifetime is filled with the empty graves of those you’ll never see again. Now, Arthur’s is just another headstone to add to your endless cemetery.

You worry that you’re too loud on the harder nights. But no one’s ever complained that they hear you crying and you figure they’re all probably too busy mourning in their own way to notice the way you do. 

Abigail is practically an empty shell of herself without John. As much as they fought she doesn’t seem to know what to do with herself. Especially knowing he’s in jail, destined for the noose, and there is nothing she can do about it. 

Karen’s not doing much better. With Sean in jail alongside John, she’s fallen to the drink. She’s adopted a fatalist view that, without Dutch, you are all doomed to die at the hands of the Pinkertons. Sometimes, looking at the depressing faces of those around you, you think she might be right.

Stuck out in the middle of nowhere, with only two rotting cabins between what was left of the gang, you are a far cry from the fearsome outlaws you once were. This is no longer the Van der Linde gang. Now, you’re barely any better than a group of desperate wanderers. 

You know sleep won’t come to you tonight, you’ve been tossing and turning for hours. Any longer and you’ll wake everyone else up. Wiping roughly at your eyes, you slip a blanket around your shoulders and head toward the creaking door of the cabin. You try to keep in mind that one wrong step and the groaning wood below you will alert everyone. 

Barefoot, you walk along the muddied planks of the porch and head towards what’s left of tonight’s fire. It’s not ever-burning as it once was. The gang takes care to ensure if anyone were to come looking for you all, you wouldn’t be such easy targets. 

You sink onto the log before the dying fire, with embers glowing faintly in the darkness. Sparks flicker and leap from the blackened wood, a futile effort to reignite the flame. Their struggle is in vain, though, there is no life left to kindle, no warmth to revive. The fire is gone. 

Light footsteps make their way towards you, but you keep your gaze steady on the flickering struggle before you. “I’m gettin’ real tired of this,” Sadie’s disappointed sigh is a familiar one as she comes to stand behind you. 

“Were you in town again?” You ask, ignoring the glare you feel boring into your back. She stares at you for a while longer before letting out a rough sigh and throwing herself down beside you. The log shifts slightly under her weight and you dip towards her. 

“I was,” she grumbles, something white balled up tightly in her fist. You turn towards her finally, eyes narrowed on the paper in her grasp. Her face is drawn tight, jaw set angrily as something vengeful burns within her gaze. 

“What is that?” You ask, tone inquisitive but not truly interested. Her eyes dart towards you before she shakes her head and tosses the paper to the dying fire. What’s left of it, licks eagerly at the paper, trying its damndest to burn brighter.

“Nothin’, don’t worry about it. Why can’t you sleep?” Her switch in conversation is quick and far from subtle. Your head tilts slightly in curiosity, gaze switching between her and the paper that’s slowly curling up at the edges. She’s hiding something, it’s easy enough to tell from the way she refuses to meet your eyes. Besides, she’s snuck into town plenty of times, you’ve never seen her come back this riled up before. 

You jump to your feet and she startles at the quick move. “Don’t,” she snaps, snatching at your wrist as you rush by her and swipe the paper from the fire pit. Sadie gets to her feet, hand held out with an expectant look as she waits for you to give her back to paper. When you don’t comply immediately, she says your name, voice low and tense, a warning. 

Lips curling up slightly in challenge, you leap back as she lunges for you, holding the paper away from her. “What is it?” You tease, curiosity curling over the lingering ache from earlier. 

She snaps your name again and you flinch back in surprise, “I mean it, don’t look at the goddamn paper.” You’d only been joking with her, trying to focus on anything other than Arthur. Now, there’s a familiar churning feeling of dread as you look at your friend. She’s not angry at you, she’s angry at the thin sheet you’re holding. There’s something on here she doesn’t want you to see, not for her own sake, but for yours. 

Your breath quickens, heart dancing dangerously fast against your ribs as you finally look at what’s in your hand. She hisses your name but you stubbornly ignore her, frowning when you realize it’s a torn-out piece of a newspaper. It’s a smaller article from the local St. Denis paper stand, talking about a ferry being lost at sea. 

“Oh, god,” you whisper, hand coming up to cover your mouth as bile rushes up your throat. You bite down on your tongue until the taste of iron fills your mouth, holding back the nausea. “This is him, isn’t it?”

Sadie lets out a rough sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. “I didn’t want you to know.”

“You were just gonna hide this from me?” You nearly shout, taking one angry step towards her. Her brows turn down in guilt, mouth settling into a thin line as she shakes her head. “No? You weren’t?” You demand, tone rough with grief. “You were just going to wait until I put the pieces together myself?”

“Dammit, woman, you’re barely holding it together,” she barks out, snatching the paper from you once more. She turns her back on you, shredding it into pieces so small you’ll never be able to finish reading it. “I was going to wait until I didn’t think you were on the brink of completely fallin’ apart. Besides, it doesn’t say anything about the people on the ship, we don’t know what happened.”

“We never will!” The words tear out of you, a sharp, bitter exhale. A panicked smile twists your lips as you struggle to keep yourself upright. “Sadie, your husband is dead, you know that. You have your answer. I never will. I will never know what happened to him. And it doesn’t even matter because he left me!” Your voice cracks, a sob slipping free despite your best efforts to swallow it down. “I shouldn’t care about that goddamn bastard, but I do.” You turn away from her, shoulders caving in as you wipe roughly at the tears streaming down your cheeks. 

There’s a beat of silence behind you. You miss the way her face falls, her hardened exterior falling away just for a moment. She looks at you with something like understanding, pity more likely. She steps forward, her arms winding around your shoulders, trying to hold you steady through the pain. You struggle against her hold for a moment but she keeps her grip firm, forcing you to succumb to the small comfort. 

You sink into her embrace, breath hitching as the grief claws its way up your chest, relentless and unyielding. You can’t keep doing this. You aren’t made to endlessly love and lose, to watch pieces of yourself crumble with every goodbye. It feels as though there should be nothing left of you- no bleeding heart, no raw edges. And yet, every time you think you’ve reached your limit, life finds a way to push you further. 

But life, pain, and the ugly company of grief never stops or goes away, despite how much you wish they would. 

A few weeks later

Physical pains and ailments heal. There may be scars left behind, but for the most part, you can be wholly healed. Anguish of the mind and heart is a different beast to conquer altogether. That sort of pain ebbs and flows. It doesn’t slip away neatly. It comes and goes, sneaking upon you when you least wish for it. 

Distractions can dull the edge. The looming danger of death and the law from any of your multitude of enemies helps. But more often than not, the weight remains a leaden burden on your shoulders and a gnawing ache deep in your chest.

For now, the pain has numbed into something dull that makes you clench your teeth and hiss. But if you force yourself, you can find steady ground to stand on. You can keep yourself calm and sated, if you focus yourself on the anger rather than the grief. 

Anger comes easier than healing. It lashes out at the world and balms over the constant pain, if only for a little while. You find yourself getting into more and more fights around camp. The forgiveness of shared grief has its limits and you’ve been testing them for a while. You’re curious how far you can push before you’re forced out by the rest of them. 

Sadie’s efforts of finding a new place for you all to hide don’t go unappreciated. But this cabin feels like a cage, no matter how far you’ve come from the mud and chaos of the old abandoned camp.  The tight space presses against you, the silence weighs heavy against your chest and constricts around you tightly. You hear the faint rustle of the trees in the wind, but it’s a vacuous cavern inside. 

The memories of Shady Belle plague you like a ghost. The brief moments when you could almost forget everything pressing down, but now, that place, too, is just another reminder of what’s been lost. Memories of nights spent with Arthur or sitting outside and listening to Javier play his guitar are tainted with loss and rage. 

Sadie and Charles provide you brief comfort, but it will never be enough to make this place feel like home. You try to shake thoughts of Arthur, what the gang once was, and everything that came before. You’ve been running for so long, from your past and who you once were, but it feels like you’re being dragged right back. 

Unable to handle the suffocating silence any longer, you take Arthur’s bow out from the chest under your cot. You grab a handful of arrows and jump to your feet. Throwing the door of the cabin open, you stride past everyone lingering outside. A few people give you odd looks, but they don’t stop you from leaving. You’ve become a dark cloud around camp, your presence heavy and actions unpredictable. It’s almost a relief for them when you’re gone. 

Lady’s just as restless as you are, except the dumb beast doesn’t understand that neither of them are coming back. Charles doesn’t know what happened to Diablo or the other horses when he fled St. Denis and you’re not interested in looking for them. She’ll just have to live with the pain, same as you. 

“Let’s go,” you mutter, swinging onto her saddle and leading her out of camp. It’s as if a weight slips from your shoulder the further you get from camp. The tight grip constricting around your chest loosens and for the first time in days, you can draw a full breath as the world opens before you. 

The thick groves of trees thin and give way to sprawling plains of grass and wildflowers that stretch endlessly. Steering Lady off the trail, you ride her hard and fast, determined to put as much distance between yourself and those suffocating cabins. Dirt kicks up under her hooves, flying up behind you as she pushes herself to the limit. 

The world around you blurs into streaks of green and gold as memories and grief slip away from you. You lean forward over Lady’s neck, urging her to go faster even as she huffs beneath you. You’re racing the wind, chasing after a dream that’s been lost to you. The air lashes at your face, the sting sharp and cold. Your eyes burn and you tell yourself it’s the wind, even as wet streaks drip down your cheeks.

Bright beams of sunlight streak across the ground, illuminating the path forward. Morning dew glistening under the light, transforms the earth into a field of stars beneath your boots. You draw in a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill your lungs, and tighten your legs around Lady’s sides, signaling her to slow. Her chest heaves beneath you, each breath a puff of steam in the cold air. You can feel her desire to keep running, that shared, desperate need to escape clawing at both of you. 

But she’s exhausted, and no matter how much you’d like to keep going, you can’t push her until she collapses. You’re tethered, whether you like it or not, you’re always going to be pulled back to camp. It’s a cage and a haven. Though you hate the confinement, deep down you know survival outside of it might be beyond you. You don’t trust yourself not to wither in the wilderness alone. 

The sound of water rushing draws your attention and you turn towards a green hill rousing in the distance. Guiding Lady toward it, you crest the incline and slip off her saddle, letting her graze.

Below, a river carves through the land. Its rushing currents are strong enough to carry something away with no hope of return. You step closer to the edge, peering down as the sunlight dances on the water’s surface. It runs like liquid gold, unnaturally beautiful, almost hypnotic, like the siren call of a sailor’s doom. 

A herd of deer drift alongside the river, their presence serene and almost make the idea of simply drifting away, peaceful. Your foot inches closer to the edge, slipping on the wet grass, and for a split second, the earth feels like it’s tilting forward.  

“You don’t usually ride out this far.” 

The voice snaps you back, and you gasp, spinning around. Charles stands behind you, one hand on Taima’s saddle, watching you with a calm but expectant expression. 

“I can’t stand being there,” you say, moving toward Lady. Your hands fumble with her saddlebag, needing something to occupy them. His eyes flick briefly to the river, then back to you, his gaze sharp and knowing. 

“You’re not the only one.” He strolls to the edge and whistles softly.  “Far drop.” 

You keep your hands busy, pretending to rummage through your belongings. “I’m a good swimmer,” you tell him, voice flat. 

“Not that good.” His tone is clipped, a warning wove into his words.  

You let out a sharp breath and finally turn to face him. “What do you want, Charles?”

He shrugs, resting one hand on his belt as his dark eyes assess you. “Thought you might want some company.” He pauses, his voice lowering. “Or, at least someone to keep you from doing something stupid.”

You wince, knowing how it must have looked. You’re hurt and desperate, but you’re no fool. The river might be pretty, but you’re not looking to drown yourself in it. “It wasn’t anything like that,” you insist, and Charles gives you a sharp, assessing look. “Charles,” you snap, exhaling in frustration.  “Honestly. I just,” you take in a slow breath, shaking your head, eyes downcast. “I need a break.”

“Alright,” he says simply. “We’ll take one together.” He walks back to the cliff’s edge, dropping down to sit with his legs dangling over the side. He glances over his shoulder and motions you to join him. 

Your fists clench at your sides as you take slow, reluctant steps toward him. The dew on the grass seeps into your pants as you sit beside him, hands folded in your lap. Out of the corner of his eyes, you catch his profile, calm, steady, and scarred. 

The aftermath of St. Denis lingers on his face. A fresh scar cuts along his jawline, a reminder of how close he came to joining the others who didn’t make it. Yet, with some of them gone, he seems more at ease. Charles never agreed with Dutch’s grandiose visions, and though he and Arthur had a bond, it’s clear the gang’s collapse has freed him from some invisible yoke. He wears his hair in a braid lately, speaking with nearby tribes and helping them when he’s not in camp. 

If it wasn’t for some odd honor-bound obligation he’s got to you and a few others in camp, you don’t doubt that he’d be riding free by now. Still, he stays with you, and selfishly, you’re glad for it. 

A gunshot cracks through the quiet, echoing among the hills. Birds take flight from the treetops as a hunting group crashes through the grove below. They circle around the herd of deer and let their bullets fly wild. Their hounds snap at the flanks of the animals, jaws clamping around the soft throats of the doe. 

Charles scoffs, shaking his head in disgust. “You don’t kill the does,” he mutters angrily. “Just the bucks. These men... they have no respect for the laws of nature.”

You let out a sardonic huff of laughter, gesturing toward the chaos below.  “Welcome to the future of our country,” Your gaze drifts toward the horizon, where smoke from St. Denis factories smudges the sky. Even this far out, civilization stretches its claws, unstoppable. “The west is dying, Charles. The time of outlaws, of freedom, is being shackled and destroyed.”

You turn to face him, meeting the same burning anger in his eyes that’s been smoldering in your own for weeks. It’s the first time you’ve seen that fire in him so clearly- the shared, silent rage, you’ve both been trying to suppress. “Our time is over,” you tell him, voice low with finality. 

His eyes narrow, jaw tight with defiance. For a moment, he says nothing, but then he rises to his feet, his movements purposeful. “Maybe,” he says, his voice steady, “but not today.”

Without another word, he strides toward Taima, tightening the saddle and checking the reins with precision. “What’re you doin?” You call after him, brows knitting together in confusion. 

He gestures toward the hunters below, his tone sharp. “You want to do something stupid. Fine. But take it out on someone who deserves it, not yourself.” 

His words hit like a slap, and before you know it, he’s leading Taima down the hill. 

You linger in the sharp sting of what he said only for a moment. Jumping to your feet, you rush to Lady, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you mount her. With a kick of your heels, you follow Charles down the path toward the hunters, your rage finally finding a target. 

For the first time in a long while, the weight around your chest lightens. You might not be able to fix the world, but you can make sure someone pays for tearing it apart. And as you ride beside Charles, you remember why he’s still here. He’s not just keeping you alive, he’s giving you something to live for.

Sitting inside the cabin, the smell of venison drifts toward you. After the incident with the hunting party, you and Charles salvaged what you could of the herd. Neither of you liked the idea of anything going to waste. Some materials were given to the local tribe, and the rest have been feeding the camp for days now. 

Last night, you’d scoured the woods for herbs and other ingredients and discreetly left them on Pearson’s cooking table. You were growing desperate for a flavor other than plain meat. Judging by the faint smell of mint wafting through the air, it seems he finally took the hint. 

Propped against your flimsy pillow, you run your fingers along the worn leather of the journal in your lap. For weeks, you’ve toyed with the idea of opening it, of seeing the world through Arthur’s eyes. 

Here, in the rare serenity of a quiet camp, you finally give in. The journal is as you would expect, sketches, details of some of the more pivotal moments for the gang. Every once in a while you’ll find a sketch of someone and a brutally honest recollection of how Arthur thought of them. Some of them are less flattering than you would have thought, you’re almost worried for how he might have seen you. 

You make it through his entries about Blackwater, the sun setting lower in the horizon as the light from the window gets dimmer. Outside, voices grow louder as people gather around the fire for dinner. You force your eyes to stay on the page, blocking out their drifting voices. 

His entries after the mountains are almost amusing. He’s clearly frustrated about something, though, he skirts around directly addressing what it is. Only a few times are you directly mentioned, for the most part, he avoids writing about you. But you catch glimpses of yourself hiding in the pages. A half-finished sketch of your hand holding his, the beginnings of your face abandoned before he can finish. 

There’s an entry a few weeks after you acquired Lady. A sketch of her and Diablo grazing together, their noses nearly touching as they crane their necks towards the grass. Surrounding the drawings are small notes about herbs and foliage he’d collected on his hunting trips. Among those sketches, there’s a small blurb about the horses.  

Diablo seems to be taking a liking to Lady, odd pair, I think. 

An odd pair, you suppose there’s not a better way to put it. Something that never should have worked, a devil and a lady, yet it still clawed and fought to find its way. In the end, though, one of them was always going to be left behind. You can’t help but wish it hadn’t been you.

A rough sigh escapes you, and you flip past the next few pages. Then, you stop. A familiar pair of eyes stare back at you. 

You’ve changed so much since this journey began. Your skin is weathered, your once-pristine hair is now more often than not dirtied and knotted from the wind. Your body has grown leaner, stronger, shaped by the relentless movement and harsh diet. The woman in the red dress from St Denis was already a stranger, someone you couldn’t recognize. 

Even from Arthur’s view, you still don’t know her. The general shape of your face remains. You have the same slope to your nose, your jaw still tilts the same way. But your eyes are so different. He drew them with fire, with life, with a fight you had once thought yourself incapable of. 

You feel invulnerable as you stare down at her, as though her fire can be passed so easily to you. The feeling flickers and fades, replaced with the same familiar ache you’ve grown used to. 

You can’t make sense of it, how he could have seen you so kindly, and yet still walked away. 

“Got that look in your eye again,” Sadie’s voice cuts through the stillness, startling you. She leans against the doorway, one hand lingering on the revolver strapped to her hip. 

“What look?” You mutter, glaring down at the journal. It feels too raw, too personal to keep reading. Torturing yourself with thoughts of him isn’t getting you anywhere. He’s gone. You’ve faced death all your life- mourn, move on. That’s how it’s meant to go.  

“Angry,” Sadie tells you, voice soft and knowing. “Like how I looked after I lost Jake. You ain’t look like that when you lost your husband.”

You shrug, fingers tracing the lines of your face through Arthur’s eyes. “Arthur was nothing like my husband. He leaves something to be mourned,” you tell her simply. She watches you a moment longer, but when you get to your feet, her expression sharpens. 

“Going somewhere?”

“Out,” you reply curly, the cabin walls closing in around you. You’re growing tired of the suffocating way Charles and Sadie hover as if they’re both waiting for you to break again. That moment on the cliff, your grief by the fire, it was all a lapse of judgment, nothing more. You’ve fought too damn hard for your freedom just to throw it away because the men you love always leave you behind. 

“Need some compan-”

“No,” you snap, cutting her off. Your tone leaves no room for argument. 

You step outside, the balmy evening air clinging to your skin as you head toward Lady. You don’t know where you’re going, but that’s fine. You just know you need to figure out how to live for yourself. And you can start by riding. 

The moon hangs heavy in the sky, its light threading through the plains like silver threads. Clouds roll overhead, slowly swallowing the stars. You smell rain in the air, a promise of a storm tomorrow. You’re sure you’ll be holed up in the cabins tomorrow while it pours. 

For now, you have the trail and the night for yourself. You let Lady take the lead, her slow gait a soothing rhythm as you settle into the ride. Normally, you don’t risk staying away from camp overnight. There are too many lawmen and bounty hunters looking to make a name for themselves. Tonight, though, you make an exception. 

A loud whoop cuts through the stillness, yanking you from your thoughts. You pull Lady to a halt, eyes roaming the dark horizon. A lone rider crests the hill, silhouetted against the moonlight, his path set toward something hidden around the bend.

“Must be my lucky day!” He hollers, voice manic. There’s a flash, the sharp crack of a gunshot splitting the quiet, and a scream follows. 

You curse under your breath, driving your heels into Lady’s sides. The two of you round the bend in time to see the rider poking his head into a finely adorned carriage. The driver slumps lifelessly over the reins, blood pooling beneath him.

Grimacing, you draw back into the shadows of the hill. “Alright, ladies first,” the bandit taunts. He reaches into the carriage, his groping hand causing a shrill shriek before he’s grabbing a woman and tossing her into the dirt. You grit your teeth, tucking yourself further out of sight, hoping to go unnoticed.

The glint of his revolver catches the moonlight as he climbs into the carriage. From inside, the muffled sounds of arguing give way to fists striking flesh. The woman lies with her face obscured by her hands. She flinches and sobs with each punch landed and the noises make Lady shift uneasily. Her hooves snap against the dried brambles of a dying bush. 

“Damn horse,” you mutter, eyes clenched shut as the noises momentarily pause. 

“Who’s there?” He calls out. It’s barely a moment before his patience snaps and he fires a warning shot into the air. “You don’t want me to come find you,” he warns, voice low and tight. 

Knocking the brim of your hat down, you let out a resigned sigh and turn the corner, forcing yourself into the open. “Howdy,” you call out, trying to mimic the casual confidence Arthur used to have in moments like these. Bandits, outlaws- they all recognize each other through the ease with which they face situations like this. You only hope you’re a good enough liar. “Just passin’ through, friend, no need for problems.” 

For a moment, his gun dips to his side. Then, his face is twisting into a wide, erratic grin. “Nice trail isn’t it? Perfect for catching big fish,” he says, swinging the revolver toward the woman’s husband. She whimpers loudly and grasps at the slumped-over man. You can hear his shallow, wet breaths from where you sit. 

“There ain’t no need to shoot ‘em,” you tell him, voice steady despite the tension coiling around you. “There’s a fence not far from here, you’ll get more money selling that carriage than you will killin’ them.”

He crackles and it makes your skin crawl. “Where’s the fun in that?” He sneers, cocking the hammer back as he points the gun at the woman. 

This man laughs, taking far more pleasure in tormenting others than in the act of robbery itself. He’s malicious, sadistic—the very picture of a perfect outlaw. For a fleeting moment, he sees something in you, thinks you might be cut from the same ruthless cloth. But he’s wrong, and there’s something exhilarating about stepping beyond the mold your family and husband once shaped for you, discovering who you can be on your own terms.

Your hand drifts to the revolver on your side, slowly easing it out of your holster. His head snaps toward the sound of you pulling the hammer back, but it’s too late. From your spot atop Lady, all you see is blood splatter as his body drops to the floor. The woman screaming lets you know you hit your mark near perfect. 

Opposed to the man now bleeding out in the dirt beneath you, there’s no thrill in the kill, no satisfaction. Just the cold thrum of your nerves, the slight tremor in your hands as you slide off Lady and stride toward the couple. 

With the bandit dead, the woman’s husband seems to make a miraculous recovery. He springs up, blood still streaming along his chin. “Thank God for you, sir-”

He stops short when you tip your hat back. Perhaps his ears were still ringing from one too many blows, dulling his senses, or maybe he was simply too pigheaded to grasp the fact that he’d just been rescued by a woman. You level him with an unimpressed glare. “Not a problem,” you say flatly

“Oh, good heavens,” the woman gasps, whispering your name with a startling familiarity. You freeze, eyes wide, as your blood runs cold. 

Elsbeth Morton. 

You’d know the voice anywhere. Of all the people you could have run into, she’s the last you’d ever want to see. Your tormenter through finishing school. She used to cut your hair in your sleep, stain your dress, and make your life a misery for sport. 

Her sneer hasn’t changed, though the lines around her mouth suggest her spite has only deepened. “Well,” she drawls, voice laced with faux pity, “I see nothing much has changed for you. Still scrounging out an existence in the dirt, are we?”

Your jaw tightens. “Elsbeth,” you grit out. “You’re welcome.”

She laughs, short and derisive in a way that makes you bristle. “For what? Subjecting me to this humiliating spectacle? Honestly, I think I preferred the company of the bandit. At least he had the decency to get on with it instead of pretending to play the hero.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to stay calm, but she doesn’t stop. “It’s almost tragic,” she continues, brushing the dirt from her skirts as if trying to erase the sight of you. “You’re still so desperate for approval, aren’t you? Trying to prove you’re something you’re not. What’s next? A big speech about how strong and independent you are?” She snickers, tugging her husband to his feet. “We both know better.”

Your voice comes out low and steady. “You’ve always been good at pretending you’re better than everyone else, Elsbeth.” God hates you, you’re sure of it. If he doesn't, why is she here? Dragging you back to everything you loathed about your former self—the vapid, dependent, hollow shell of a woman who had once believed her worth was defined by the man standing beside her.

“Pretending?” she snaps, narrowing her eyes. “Darling, I don’t need to pretend. You can wear all the trousers you want, but we both know you’re still the same timid little girl, hiding behind a man and hoping no one notices she doesn’t belong.”

Her words cut, but they don’t sting the way they once would have. Instead, they ignite something, a fire born not of anger, but clarity. 

You’re not the man bleeding out in the dirt, killing for the joy of it. But you aren’t the polished girl she remembers, desperate for a man’s approval. You’re something else entirely. Unbound by society, free to choose your own path, you’re a beast of your own creation. And if there is one thing you’ve learned about yourself- you love putting your past in the grave. 

You let out a slow breath, your hand drifting toward your revolver. “Elsbeth,” you call, voice sharp enough to cut through her self-satisfied grin.

She stops, turning back with an arched brow. “What now?” she huffs. “Come to beg for my acceptance? Or just another pathetic attempt to-”

“That husband of mine,” you interrupt, voice cool as steel, “was good for one thing.” You draw your revolver, the barrel leveling with her chest. “Teaching me to shoot.”

Her eyes widen, her sneer faltering as her hand instinctively flies to her necklace.

Your lips curl into a wicked smile. “Now, how about you hand over those pretty jewels?”

She scoffs, but you see the way her grin falters, the slight fear in her eyes. You shoot her a wink and take a step closer, reveling in how she stumbles back. 

“And while we’re at it,” you continue, voice tightening into a sharp, mocking edge, “why don’t you hand over those earrings too?” You laugh, waving your gun recklessly as you shrug with a faux playfulness. “Actually, what the hell, I think I’ll take that dress—seeing as you’ve gone and gotten it all muddy anyway.” You take a step forward, your gaze narrowing on her trembling hands. “Hell, even that hair ribbon. You always did like rubbing your finery in everyone’s face, Elsbeth. Let’s see how you like losing it.”

She stares at you, disbelief flickering in her wide eyes, her hands frozen in hesitation. “You can’t be serious,” she whispers.

“Oh, I’m dead,” you pull back the hammer of your gun with a slow, menacing click. The sound hangs in the air like a threat. Your eyes narrow, and a dangerous smile tugs at your lips. “Serious.”

She moves hesitantly, every motion weighted with reluctance, disbelief etched across her face. You, the woman she used to torment and cow with a simple look, now dismantling her composure piece by piece. The power shift is palpable, and for the first time in your life, you watch Elsbeth Morton falter.

“Go’n now,” you say, your voice cutting through her trembling silence. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Her husband flinches as she begins to remove her jewelry, her fingers trembling as she unfastens each piece. You hold out your hand, and she hesitates, her face flushed with humiliation as she steps forward to place them carefully in your palm, one by one, like a chastened child.

He glances at you, then at her, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and disgust as if the sight of her submitting is too much for him to stomach.

Your eyes narrow on him, your hand tightening slightly around the revolver. The smug smile creeping onto your lips says it all—you’ll deal with him next.

You understand, finally, that you’re no longer the woman shaped by the men in your life. The husband who failed you, the outlaw who abandoned you, the society that tried to break you. People will learn that you aren’t afraid to take what’s yours anymore, because for the first time, you’re carving your own path, and God help anyone who tries to stand in your way.

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Red Dead Redemption 1/2, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2025. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

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[plumbottompie]

"What day is it?" you snap as she comes in. Your affini looks at you.

"Petal, you seem upset. I think you need some class-Es." She extends a vine, with a large flower on it. You barely even register the suggestion before you're pressing your face into the flower, and breathing deeply, inhaling the scent and holding it.

After three deep breaths, you pull away. "Thank you, Miss," you say, which is the proper response to her giving you a dose of xenodrugs. "Uh, what day is it, Miss?"

"I don't really see why you would need to know, cutie, after all, you spend every day more or less the same way, don't you?" She pats you on the head.

"Yeah but... uh..." you trail off, distracted by the hand on you. "Did you just give me class-As just now? I feel really sensitive."

"Sometimes class-Es can make people feel more sensitive. It's easier to focus on enjoying sensation when you're relaxed, after all."

You lean into her hand. "Focus... on enjoying..." you mumble, as you process her words. It still feels too strong to just be psychological, but she would never tell an outright lie. "Uh, Miss? I... how long have I been here?"

"I don't know, sweetie, you were standing here when I got back, but you could have been waiting here for hours. Do you need me to check the hab's tapes?"

"Yeah... I mean, no, that's not what I meant. Has it been more than a month since my wardship started?"

"You were only assigned for me for a one month wardship, and you're still here, aren't you petal?" You blink, feeling stupid. She's right, of course. Why are you even thinking about this?

"B-but... my boobs...?" What are you talking about? Oh, you remember! "I read they can't grow this big in only a month."

"I see, that's very interesting. Let me examine you more closely." Your clothes fall away, removed by vines that immediately start caressing you. Your knees go weak in a matter of seconds, and you happily collapse, letting her hold you up. "Your boobs are getting nice and big, aren't they?"

"Yes Mistress." You only call her that during sex, which this really wasn't supposed to be, she was just looking at you, but you're so turned on the word slips out on it's own. You expect her to be upset at you for turning this into something sexual, but a vine snakes into your ass, and at the same time, she leans down and kisses you, her tongue vine sliding down her throat, before she pulls away.

"Good girl," she says, and you realize that instead of being upset, she rewarded you. You smile, happy to know that you've pleased your Mistress. "Do you think your tits are too big?" she asks, squeezing them.

"No, MIstress. I want them even bigger. I just..." you just what? It's so hard to think, so hard not to just focus on enjoying your Mistress's vines. "I just need to know if I'm an independent."

A vine teases down your breasts and to your rock hard clit. It's a little over two inches now, even though it was bigger than average before your wardship. "An independent terran is considered an affini's equal. Tell me, petal, do you feel like my equal?"

"No, Mistress." Her vines pull away from your tits, clit, and ass, and she looks at you, observing you closely.

"Do you want me to treat you like my equal? I can, of course."

You shake your head so hard it makes you dizzy. "No! No, Mistress, I don't want that!"

"Good girl. You're going to be ready very soon, aren't you? Now, I think you need some class-Zs, and then to forget this whole day, don't you?"

You open your mouth, but the only response that comes out is "May I cum, Mistress?"

"No, not today, you've been a little naughty." The flower covers your face again, and you breathe deeply. You feel as your body stops trembling, your mind starts to slow, your eyelids droop, even your clit goes soft. "And next time you figure it out, kneel while you wait for me."

You dimly wonder what you figured out, before you go to sleep. When you wake, you'll discover that your tablet will no longer show you the timeline of class-Gs, but it's not like you're unsatisfied with them. After all, look at how much you've changed in only a month.

You were assigned to an affini for a one month wardship, and she helped you realize you were a trans woman and put you class-Gs. Now, looking in the mirror, you realize that from your research, the changes you've experienced should have taken at least three months.

You check your tablet to see what the date is, but it's not showing the date or time anywhere. Even if it was, you can't remember what day your wardship started. If you're right, your wardship ended a while ago, and she just... kept you? Didn't tell you that you were allowed to leave?

You consider trying the door out of the hab, and seeing if you can just walk out, but she'd be worried if she came back and you were gone, and besides, you're pretty mad. You'll wait for her to come home, and confront her about it. Maybe give her a chance to come clean, if it's true, or explain it to you, if you're wrong.

[lemon-berri]

Perfume

Gojo Satoru has been standing in a perfume shop for the better part of half an hour now, looking for a specific bottle. He carefully scans the shelves, cerulean eyes searching through the different labels carefully, and still he can't find it. A pout crosses his face, and he hums in dissatisfaction. Maybe they've stopped selling it? Surely not...

"Hi sir! Can I help you find something?" The sound of a shop assistant interrupts his thoughts, and he turns to find an older lady in a store uniform, smiling up at him. She'd noticed him from afar, the tall man carrying a bouquet three times the size of his head in one arm and about a dozen gift bags in the other- he was hard to miss. Now, her gaze lands on the golden band on the ring finger of his left hand, and she attempts to connect the dots. "Is it an anniversary?"

Satoru shakes his head, a proud grin replacing his earlier pout. "Nah, I don't need a special occasion to surprise my wife - though I have forgotten the name of her favourite perfume..."

"It happens all the time!" The lady reassures him. "Could you describe the scent?"

Satoru hums. "Well... its like... watching the sunset, or being embraced by warmth, or thousands of compliments, and butterflies in your stomach.."

"I..." The shop assistant nods along, trying to help despite the fact that he's describing concepts rather than scents. Not to mention he isn't making much sense.

"Wait- actually I think I have a picture." Satoru takes his phone out and the shop assistant visibly relaxes. She takes one look at the picture he shows her, already knowing where to find the particular bottle. "She has good taste.."

"Don't I know it." Satoru grins more. He purchases the bottle, watching as the shop assistant carefully wraps it and places it in a gift bag with a nice little bow. He thanks the lady before leaving the shop, satisfied with the amount of gifts he's purchased today.

The sun is already low in the sky, and day will soon turn to night, but Satoru's day is far from over. He walks with a bounce in his step, whistling to himself and earning the attention of everyone who passes him by. But he doesn't pay them any mind, he's on a mission after all. The one he loves is waiting.

This route is familiar to him, so he isn't paying much attention. His mind replays the days events instead, from teaching classes to fighting curses, to his impromptu shopping trip. Around him, blossoms have started to grow on the trees. It'll be spring soon, longer days and warmer weather, a sign of new begins and good things to come.. right?

Its dusk by the time he reaches the room.

"Hey Angel, I'm sorry I took so long today."

He places the huge bouquet of flowers in a vase on the windowsill, next to the many other floral arrangements he's bought this week- it's starting to look like a florist shop in here, but you've always liked flowers so he doesn't care much. The more the better.

"You'll never believe what happened today. Get this, I walked into class, ready to teach the first years. Only they weren't there. Turns out all of them overslept." He chuckles, taking a seat. He places the various gift bags next to the chair. "I guess it's not too surprising, given there's only three of them. But it was funny listening to the three of them running down the hallway..."

But he gets no response. You're laying on the bed in front of him, resplendent as a painting, bathed in the golden light from the window. Like a sleeping doll. Just within reach yet so far away.

It has been two months. Two months since he'd heard your voice, or seen you look up at him with those pretty eyes of yours. Two months since you had been sent on a mission against that strange cursed spirit, only to go missing for two days, and when they'd found you.. you'd looked just like this. Completely unharmed but unresponsive. Not a scratch on your frame, but refusing to wake up.

Nobody knew what had happened to you. And the cursed spirit had vanished. Perhaps you'd exorcised it. After all it's not natural for a curse to leave a victim unharmed and flee, especially without a trace. But then why weren't you waking up?

He was told talking to you would help. So that's what he does. It's all he can do.

"They opened a new bakery near our place. Thought I think I'll wait for you, so we can go together. Don't make me wait too long, yeah?"

Satoru comes every day, as evidenced by all the flowers and cards and gifts. When you wake up, he wants you to be surrounded by things you love, things that make you happy. You've always loved flowers.

If he's not here, or working, he spends every free moment trying to track down the curse. Or figure out what happened, some way to bring you back. Goodness knows he's tried it all.

He watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest, reminding himself you're still alive. At least some part of you is still here, with him.

"You know.." his expression relaxes, eyes finally showing the sadness he's so desperately been trying to hide. "It's hard without you. The students miss you, and I do too, we're all worried about you..." he sighs.

"But don't worry about that, okay? Focus on getting better. Come back to me."

Satoru spends a few more hours here, telling you about his day, making a few jokes here and there, and filling you into the most recent episodes of the show you love. His voice fills the quiet room, and he tries to imagine what you might say if you were awake.

It's early morning by the time he leaves reluctantly, but work will start up again soon, and he has to get at least some sleep because he knows you'd be mad if you knew he wasn't resting. He leaves the gifts by your bedside. All except one bag, the small one with the little bow on the top. That one was actually a present for him.

Later, when he gets home, he'll spray a little on your side of the bed. That way, at least you'll appear in his dreams.

Seasonal depression has hit me like a truck this year. So now everyone else must suffer too. 😈

I hope you all enjoyed the angst! As usual this is not proofread, please don't point out my mistakes I'll cry.

Thank you for reading 🩵

Banners by @bunnysrph

[revelboo]

Would Thundercracker's human friend from Better Open the Door ever be able to convince TC to let them go home? (Their actual home lmao)

Or would he just plain refuse to see reason forever?

Like, he seems reasonable enough, if a bit... Clingy. And lonely. And sad.

I mean, I'd gladly be his friend, and talk about movies with him. But being kept in his room like a glorified pet is a bit much.

He would when the guilt kicks in hard enough, wanting to prove he cares and listens, even if he hates it. That said, he’s absolutely going to spend every free minute he has stalking you from above in his alt mode to keep you safe.

Better Open The Door Pt 15

Thundercracker x Reader

• Drowsing sprawled on him, it’s strange to feel so comfortable. One of his hands on the small of your back and the other on your butt. Resting your chin on him you study that handsome, alien face that’s become so familiar to you. Knowing you’re falling for him despite still being unhappy with him and you’re tempted to ruin it all. Trying to gather up the nerve to ask again, because if he really cares about you, he has to understand he has to let you go eventually.

• Optics brightening when he feels you move on him, he tucks his chin to see you. And you look so lovely sprawled on him, servos flexing on you when you yawn. “Sleep okay?” He asks and you lay your cheek back down against him. This moment. He wants to keep it forever. The way you look waking up in his arms, hair messy and eyes sleepy. “I’m probably not a very comfortable bed, am I?”

• “You’re warm.” Painfully aware of your own nakedness when the servos of one hand slides up your spine and his other hand gently flexes on your butt. And there’s his spike hardening against your hip. “Already? It’s hard to have a conversation when you do that,” you protest. And he smiles crookedly at you, expression almost boyish and not at all ashamed.

• “You have that effect on me,” he admits, cupping your chin and tipping it up. Venting when you lean up on him, mouth brushing his in a much too brief kiss. “Not so fast.” Servos threading through your hair to cup the back of your head, he tugs you back to him, mouth lazily exploring yours.

• Laughing as you break away and his servos lazily comb through your hair, you push up to straddle him and his servos skim up your body and then back down to rest on your hips. Remembering his words from the night before. That he’d said he loved you when he barely knows you. Even if the way he looks up at you is almost worshipful. “Can we talk?” Does he even really understand what love is or is he just fascinated with those love stories he watches?

• Servos wandering to cup soft skin, he rumbles at you. Do you think you really need to ask? That there’s anything he wouldn’t do for you? “Of course.” Servos stroking over you, he wonders if he can bond you. What it would be like to feel you tangled in his spark, touching him intimately. Why are you frowning at him? “Is something wrong?”

• “No, it’s just- It’s nothing,” you say, one of your hands covering his as it wanders and squeezes. And he’s frowning at you now, reaching up to tap a servo against your bottom lip. Waiting expectantly and you cringe. “You know you can’t just keep me here forever. Right? I have family and they must be worried.”

• Expression closing off, he catches your wrist when you start to pull away. Upset with him. Hasn’t he taken care of you? Protected you? “You’re not a prisoner,” he says, voice flat. Empty as his spark constricts. Was it only fragging to you? Nothing more? “I just want you to be happy. Safe.” And if you don’t want him, he’ll let you go. He’ll watch over you even if you don’t want him. Set you free and protect you from a distance as it kills him. You’re everything to him. “Is that what you want? To leave?” If so, he’ll stay as close as he can, let you have your freedom while you can, because as soon as the war starts up again, he’ll bring you back home to him no matter what you want. Can’t lose you.

Previous

Probably a good idea to add a warning to the first chapters of it and TFA Blitzwing’s fic

[atzloverr]

Our unsaid truths - chapter 2

previous chapter - next chapter

series masterlist

pairings: poly!ateez x reader, atz x atz

cw: polyamory, teasing, mentions of sex, jealousy, use of Y/n, reader is flustered lol, that’s like it, I know this is really short but I promise next chapter will have more!!!!

The sun had just begun to peek through the curtains when you started to stir awake. An unknown but comfortable warmth surrounded you, and it took a few seconds for your sleep-fogged mind to register why you felt so… crowded.

Wooyoung’s arm was slung lazily over your stomach, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, while Seonghwa’s leg was tangled with yours, his deep and even breathing tickling your shoulder. You stared up at the ceiling, your heart beating faster than it should for someone who had just woken up.

The events of last night hit you like a truck.

“Oh my god…” you whispered under your breath. You tried shifting slightly, but Wooyoung pulled you closer to him, groaning softly in his sleep. Your cheeks burned as you realized the position you were currently in: pinned in between the two.

“Morning, beautiful.”

Seonghwa’s voice was smooth, carrying a teasing lilt as he looked up at you with half-lidded eyes. His hair was disheveled, and the smirk on his face made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

Before you could respond, a soft yawn escaped Wooyoung, his body stretching slightly against yours. You averted your attention towards him. He looked up at you and grinned. “Morning, gorgeous.” His voice was husky from sleep.

“Um… good morning,” you stammered with a small smile, feeling heat creep up your neck.

It was surreal, waking up sandwiched between two men who now seemed equally interested in you. As the moment stretched on, you started to wonder what this would mean for your relationship with not just Seonghwa and Wooyoung, but with the rest of the boys as well. You bit your lip anxiously at the thought.

The worst thing you could imagine was ruining something that was so perfect between them, so perfect between you and Seonghwa.

”Whatcha thinking about sweetie?” you heard Seonghwa ask, snapping you out of your dazed state of deep thought. You simply shook your head. ”Nothing special.”

Seonghwa and Wooyoung exchanged looks, was your lie too obvious? ”Whatever, I’m hungry,” Wooyoung said before groaning loudly, finally letting you go to stretch out his entire body.

”Will you let me borrow your clothes, hyung?” Wooyoung said, trying his best to use his puppy eyes, a large pout on his lips.

Seonghwa sighed but eventually gave in with a tired ’sure’. You figured he probably didn’t want Wooyoung to walk out completely naked. The thought made you pause.

Would the others know what went down last night? You knew the walls weren’t exactly thick, but would you have to walk out to being humiliated this morning? You decided to speak your mind, worry brimming within you.

”Do you think they’ll know? I mean, not that there would be anything wrong with that, but—” you stammered nervously. ”Hmm, maybe,” Wooyoung giggled, getting dressed in one of Seonghwa’s sweatpants.

”I don’t know baby, but I’m sure they won’t mind if they do know,” Seonghwa reassured. You sighed in relief at those words. It was sometimes as if Seonghwa knew exactly what you needed to hear and when.

You quickly threw on one of Seonghwa’s shirts, not bothering to put on pants, before the three of you started to make your way to the dining area. As you heard the sound of voices from the kitchen, you felt nervousness starting to creep up on you. Seonghwa’s comforting hand on the small of your back sure helped though.

As you entered the kitchen, you were greeted by the sight of Hongjoong and Yeosang cooking something by the stove, as well as some of the other guys spread out around the room.

“Well, well, good morning, Y/n,” Hongjoong greeted, his lips curving into a smirk. Yeosang gave you a knowing look, one brow raised as if he already had several jokes lined up.

“Morning,” you said, trying to sound natural, avoiding their gazes, pulling down the shirt to somewhat cover yourself.

“I see someone’s had an eventful night,” Yeosang said lightly, eyes focused on the food he was cooking. His words made you freeze, heat rising to your cheeks.

Before you could reply, Wooyoung’s voice chimed in from where he was standing by the fridge, getting some yogurt. “Why do you sound so jealous, Yeosang?” He said with a smug grin plastered across his face.

“Jealous? Of what, you being the loudest person in the building?” Yeosang shot back. You swallowed, feeling the embarrassment inside you grow for every word and glance the two exchanged.

“Loud?” Mingi suddenly piped up from the table. You turned your head to see his face filled with faux innocence. “Oh, they were definitely loud.”

You groaned and sank into the nearest chair, burying your face in your hands. “Can we change the subject?” you pleaded.

“Aw, don’t be shy,” Wooyoung teased, sliding into the seat next to you with his yogurt in hand. “I think we made a great team last night.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat aggressively made everyone pause. Seonghwa stood up, his expression calm but his voice sharp. “Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung cowered slightly, glancing at him sheepishly. “What? I’m just saying—”

“Don’t make her uncomfortable.”

Seonghwa’s tone left no room for argument, and Wooyoung held up his hands in surrender, though the playful glint in his eyes remained.

“Sooo, Y/n,” Jongho said casually, trying to break the awkward silence that had come to be. “Are you planning to make your rounds with the rest of us, or are you sticking with these two?”

You choked on your own breath, flabbergasted by his question. You felt your cheeks burning hotter for each second that passed. “Jongho!”

“What? It’s a valid question,” he said with a shrug. You heard Yeosang giggle at the man’s words.

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, sinking further into your chair.

Yunho entered the room then, his hair messy from sleep and eyes still not completely open. “What’s unbelievable?” he asked, walking up to Mingi who had already prepared a cup of coffee for him.

“Y/n’s, well… expanding her social circle,” Mingi quipped, earning a chorus of laughter from almost everyone.

Yunho glanced between you, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung, piecing the situation together almost immediately.

His expression softened as he set his mug down and came to stand beside you, gently patting your head. “Don’t let them tease you too much,” he said kindly.

You gave him a grateful smile, only for him to add with a wink, “You’ll need your energy for the rest of us anyway.”

The room erupted into laughter, and you groaned. “I swear,” you glanced at the amused faces around you, “you’re all going to drive me insane.”

As breakfast continued and everyone eventually sat down by the table, you felt as if something was slightly off, or rather, someone.

You looked over to San, who silently ate his breakfast, and a thought struck you. He hadn’t uttered a single word this entire morning, which was very unlike him. He would always cling to someone, that someone usually being Wooyoung or Yeosang, but today, he seemed distant.

While the teasing had dialed down, Yeosang and Jongho still left some remarks about how much they heard and how they couldn’t sleep, but every time when the table erupted into laughter, you saw San sitting there, not even cracking a smile.

You were seated in between Seonghwa and Yunho, at the same spot you would usually sit at, and Yunho seemed to notice that you were deep in thought about something. ”What’s up?” he silently asked, making you blink when you returned to reality. ”Huh?”

Yunho giggled at your confusion, before a comforting smile coated his lips. ”What are you thinking about?” he asked, placing a hand on your shoulder. You looked around, and everyone was still caught up in their own conversations. ”Is San alright?” you almost whispered. You made it look casual though, not wanting someone to ask what you guys were talking about.

”Oh, so you noticed too huh?” Yunho smiled, pulling his hand through his hair. ”Hmm, I think he might be a little jealous, that’s all,” Yunho said quietly, still smiling widely.

”Jealous?” you echoed, starting to feel worried all over again. ”Don’t worry, Y/n. He gets like that sometimes, and you haven’t done anything wrong,” Yunho comforted, his hand rubbing circles into your shoulder. You took a deep breath while nodding, hoping that Yunho’s words were true.

”Who’s on dish-duty?” Hongjoong asked, grabbing everyones attention. You silently volunteered, but was immediately shot down by everyone else saying that you shouldn’t. ”You had a rough night, don’t you think you should rest?” Jongho said with a wink, making you roll your eyes before finally leaving the kitchen, still feeling flustered by the events.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

A few hours later you found yourself outside of their house, Seonghwa’s arms wrapped tightly around you. Seonghwa always got pouty when you were going back to your place. He wished you could always stay with them, but he also understood that you might want some alone time, where you’re not constantly the ”ninth wheel.”

He never wanted you to feel that way, and although you assured him that you didn’t, he still noticed that you still hesitated before staying at their house, even though he tried to assure you that you weren’t a burden.

”Hey, how are you feeling about all of this? With Wooyoung and everything? I feel like we haven’t gotten a chance to talk it through,” Seonghwa said, his hand rubbing your shoulders. You sighed heavily.

”I don’t know… I don’t want to complicate things for you guys, you know? I don’t know what they all expect from me now and—” Seonghwa noticed the shift in your emotions, and it made his heart ache.

”Shh, baby,” he brushed your hair away from your face, looking deep into your eyes. ”Take your time. There’s no rush into anything that you might not be ready for,” he reassured, placing a small kiss on your cheek. ”Just do what feels right.”

You nodded, feeling at ease from his comforting words. You placed a hand on his shoulder before kissing his lips. He pushed deeply into you, not wanting the moment to end. ”Call me anytime,” he reminded, watching you pick up your bags to leave.

”You’re leaving!?” the intimate moment was suddenly cut off by Wooyoung’s voice as he came scrambling out the door. You raised your eyebrows with a smile at his panicked expression.

”It’s not like I live here, I’m just going to my apartment, that’s all,” you laughed as Wooyoung wrapped you in a hug as if you were never going to see him again. ”You’ll come back right?” he asked, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

You ruffled his hair with your hand, finding his face adorably funny. ”Pf course I will.”

You were about to take off when Wooyoung opened his mouth again. ”A—And Y/n?” you looked back. ”Can I kiss you too?”

Your eyes widened slightly at the question, as you immediately looked at Seonghwa. The reaffirming smile on his face told you everything you needed to know. ”Yes.”

And with that Wooyoung rushed towards you to give you a short but sweet kiss on the lips, before you finally made your way to your car.

On the way home, you thought about everything that had happened. It felt so surreal, to now receive the same kind of affection that your only used to from Seonghwa, from Wooyoung too.


Maybe you had liked him this whole time, but you were just too scared to make a first move. Maybe you had liked them all this whole time, you couldn’t tell. But once you parked your car in your driveway, you had made one thing clear for yourself. You were more than happy to expand this relationship, however far it would eventually do so.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you’re excited for a brand new series!!! Love you guys💕

taglist: @wooyoungsbrat @dawn-iscozy @fairy-jojo

those who requested a part 2: @nightcat101 @oreoqueen @the-belching-toe @stolasisyourparent @freyaphoria

tell me if you want to join the taglist!!!💕 part 3 is already written and will be posted very soon!

masterlist

[eeuni]

babydoll ! b.e

smut & SUB!BILLIE YALL

your gorgeous girlfriend walks through the door, after getting up for a few seconds to go to the bathroom. her wet cunt begging to make you feel good, she needs you. after having a dream about you she couldn't help but touch herself a little, but when she saw you on the bed, her breathing failed.

your hair messy, no sheets on top of you, with your arms above your head, as if you were tied up, waiting for her, the shirt that belonged to billie now on your body, lifted, showing the lower part of your breast. she bit her lip, whimpering as she approached you.

billie didn't care that you were sleeping, she was too desperate to think about that. she lifted your shirt higher, showing your hard nipples as the breeze blew through them. her mouth opened and she shoved one of them in hard, starting to suck.

"m-mmh" you moaned, shifting a little. your hands reached for what was supposed to be your tits, but it was billie. you opened your eyes in confusion, listening to billie's labored breathing as she sucked on your tits. "bils?-"

"i need you, mama." her voice sounded like a plea. your tit was now wet, your nipple totally hard from the breeze. "please!"

billie's eyes pierced yours, begging you with that little whisper to let her destroy you. a little more awake, you grabbed her hips to lift her body on top of yours. she let out a gasp.

"such a fucking little slut, mmh?" you whispered on her lips.

she was already desperate, she tried to move on top of you to get friction but you didn't let her. she nodded, once again pleading with her eyes.

"please, need you s'bad, mama." she swallowed hard.

you really enjoyed seeing her like that, it excited you. you lowered her head so that her eyes were right in front of your pussy, already wet. billie could tell by the moisture between your panties. she stuck her tongue out, whimpering quickly to bury her head — but you stopped her.

"no!" she complained.

"ask me for permission before you suck my pussy, it's the least you can do after waking me up like that. or you are no longer my good girl, baby?" billie could feel her own wetness, her pussy aching.

she knew you were right, she just wanted to be your good girl and what she did was inappropriate. her eyes looked up, her mouth slightly open.

"please, please. let me taste you, i'll be a good girl!" you laughed at her pathetic plea, throwing your head back swallowing your laughter. billie looked at you even more desperately. why weren't you answering her? "please! i will never do that again—mmh!"

she couldn't finish speaking because you filled her mouth with your pussy, you buried her head hard. billie's eyes rolled back in her head, sucking on your folds.

"that's it, g—good girl!" you smiled, stunned as you felt her flat tongue lick you like a fucking lollipop.

your eyes closed, head back and a pressure between your legs made you realize that you were very sensitive so there wasn't much time left for you to cum in her mouth. you had to dig your nails into her hair, and you moved her head away from your clit.

"m-mommy!" billie moaned.

"take off that damn bra." you said, startled.

she stood frozen for a second and quickly removed her bra, revealing her breasts. you opened the palms of your hands to fit her breasts perfectly, squeezing them tightly. "suck them, please!" billie asked you.

of course you would.

"i need you to put your pretty fingers in my pussy, okay? do you think you can do that for me, sweet girl?" when those words came out of your mouth, billie was already nodding desperately.

her long fingers slipped in, brushing your clit with her thumb. she smiled as she watched your reaction and heard your loud moan. you, for your part, put one of her breasts inside your mouth, biting as you felt your girlfriend's fingers. she trembled, her legs did too. billie threw her head back, overstimulated by what she was feeling.

"im yours, im yours!" she moaned. your moans were being muffled by her tits.

you felt like you were close to cumming, you pulled her breast out of your mouth and started moaning really loud. you closed your eyes, billie fell straight to your breasts to bite them and play.

"baby, im gonna—" billie felt your walls embrace her fingers and how you began to squirm.

"please, mommy, cum for me." that was all it took for your juices to fill your girlfriend's fingers, you let out a scream and billie couldn't help but take her fingers out and suck them. "so sweet."

you were still struggling to breathe, it took you by surprise when billie grabbed one of her breasts and rubbed it over your throbbing clit. her hard nipple made you moan again. you were still very sensitive. you grabbed her shoulders.

"mmh! billie!"

she was more than satisfied, but you weren't. there was still some help for billie's poor, wet little pussy. you grabbed her cheeks, moving up to your face and kissed her. she moaned into your lips.

"you did so well, now i have to reward you." her eyes sparkled with excitement.

"really, mommy?" you tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, starting to smile, knowing that you were going to ruin her now.

you nodded, while the two of you giggled you managed to get her under you.

oh, her clit was going to be very sensitive that night.

"mmh— mommy, please! make me cum!"

"suck, please, please."

"i'll be your good girl, m—mommy! ah!"