#i will wait for things to quiet down a bit

[berryz-writes]

Blue

Azriel x reader

Summary: There's a large contrast between the warm and gentle Az you get to enjoy versus the cold and quiet demeanour he reserves for others

Note: FIRST FULL WEEK I HAVE THINGS PLANNED OUT FOR. this isn't entirely my favourite but fuck it we ball <33 enjoy lovelies

@azrielappreciationweek day 1

The kitchen is a warm, flour-dusted haven, filled with the sweet scent of sugar and vanilla as Azriel leans over my shoulder, watching me whisk the batter with an amused glint in his eyes.

“You know,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my neck, “you could just let me do that.” He slips his arms around my waist, pulling me gently against him. “Your hands might get tired.”

I laugh, nudging him with my elbow. “I think I can handle a little whisking.” I turn to face him, catching the soft, rare smile that lights his face, the one that only appears when it’s just us. I lean up, brushing a light kiss to his lips, and feel him pull me closer, his fingers resting at the small of my back.

“Hmm,” he hums, deep and quiet, his lips lingering just a moment longer. “You taste like sugar.”

“You’re distracting me,” I say, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

“Good,” he replies, his voice low. His gaze drops to the cupcakes cooling on the counter, and he raises an eyebrow. “They’re missing something.”

“Exactly,” I sigh, surveying the icing jars and realizing I’ve run out of the last colour I need. I hesitate, glancing at him, knowing he’s had a long week of missions and should probably be resting. But he just tilts his head, a patient smile on his face, like he already knows what I’m about to ask.

“Could you pick up more icing for me?” I ask, brushing a bit of flour off his cheek, unable to hide my smile. “Please?”

He chuckles softly, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “Anything for you.” There’s a gentle warmth in his eyes, a soft devotion that melts me from the inside out.

As he steps back, he squeezes my hand. “Save a few for me?”

“All of them,” I reply with a grin, watching as he heads to the door, wings stretching wide in the golden afternoon light. He gives me one last look before taking off, a dark silhouette against the sky.

Azriel's POV

Flying over the city, my mind lingers on her, the soft warmth of her laugh, the way her eyes light up when I walk into the room. She’s goddess incarnate, far too perfect for me.

The cold air rushes past as I fly, enjoying the time to stretch out my wings to their fullest.

But halfway through my journey, I feel Rhysand’s voice slip into my thoughts, quiet and laced with urgency.

Azriel, we have a guest in the dungeons. I need answers from him if you're available, it's urgent

I think about his words. Maybe if it had been a few months ago Rhys wouldn't have added the part of me being "available" knowing I was waiting at the chance to distract my mind. But ever since y/n walked into my life it was getting easier and easier to spend days doing nothing except enjoy her company. No torture sessions. No constant dagger sharpening. Just time spent with her.

Fine.

Was the simple reply I gave. It would only take a few minutes of my time.

The warmth I felt just minutes ago fades as I turn, heading down toward the underground jail, where shadows and silence reign. My shadows coil tighter around me, sharper, attuned to the work at hand as I descend into the dim halls of the dungeon.

The heavy door creaks open, and I step inside to find the prisoner chained to a chair, his gaze faltering as he meets mine. He tries to summon some defiance, but I can see the fear flicker beneath it, his breaths shallow as my shadows drift closer, surrounding him in darkness. This won’t take long.

I approach him slowly, letting each step echo off the stone walls. Leaning forward, I let my voice drop to a low, controlled murmur, knowing how much more effective a whisper can be. “Let's make this quick. Tell me everything you know"

I didn't have to elaborate on what I meant by everything. He knew what I was here for and I would get it one way or another.

He’s silent at first, eyes darting, and I can see him calculating his options. But there’s no fight in him, not against what he senses I’m capable of. My shadows close in, tightening like a noose around him, each word I speak dripping with cold intent.

After a slow drag of my dagger down the column of his neck the information begins to spill out, fast and frantic. I listen carefully, never blinking, absorbing each detail.

No need for lost blood; I extract every piece with surgical precision, each question laced with the promise of what could happen if he resists. Soon, he’s left shuddering, broken, and silent.

I silently thank the cauldron he didn't make this difficult otherwise I would have to clean up before getting to my wife and the thought of keeping her waiting was not something I enjoyed.

Before I leave, I pause, tilting my head as I look down at him with one last, almost casual question. “Pick a colour.”

His face twists in confusion, fear giving way to bewilderment. “Uh… blue,” he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper.

I give him a curt nod, acknowledging his choice before I turn and leave him to the shadows that linger. As I step into the fresh air aboveground, I make my way to a small shop, selecting a container of bright blue icing, a flash of colour that feels strange against the cold efficiency of what I’ve just done.

When I arrive home, I find her at the counter, surrounded by stacks of sweet heaven. She lights up as she sees me, her eyes crinkling with happiness. "Az! Thank you my love" she says, taking the container and pressing a warm kiss to my cheek.

I'd be lying if i said I didn't melt.

But then she pauses, glancing at me, a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze. “What took so long?”

I shake my head, not wanting her to worry “You don’t need to worry” I murmur, my voice gentle. “Rhys just needed something done”

She watches me closely, as if weighing my words, a knowing look in her eyes. But she doesn’t press. Instead, she smiles softly, letting her fingers brush over mine as she returns to her cupcakes.

I linger there, watching her work, feeling the lightness return to my chest as I settle back into the life we share. She doesn’t push, and I’m grateful.

With her I feel like life is worth living.

note: should have azriel year tbh

[ellecdc]

this may be a bit left field from what you were asking but i had this idea in my head for awhile of remus being told he couldn't have children because of the whole werewolf thing and reader gets pregnant and he instantly thinks he's been cheated on and it couldn't be his because of what he was told from a young age (his self esteem and insecurity that he isn't good enough etc. flaring up!! not that he truly believes she would but he's spiralling and it's the only explanation right????) and it takes lily and the marauders to knock some sense into him and realise he's been given a little miracle and a chance at having a family like he's always wanted!!! (i imagine being told he couldn't have children put the whole werewolf thing into perspective and meant he secretly yearned for it as it was another thing it had taken from him)

sorry this was long, if it's rubbish please ignore, it's why i've anonned!!!

poor angsty moony hahahaha. thanks for your request!

Remus Lupin x Black!reader who tells him she's pregnant, and he doesn't respond well [1.7k words]

CW: pregnancy, implied belief of cheating/adultery with a happy ending, background jilypad because I wanted to

“Wait, wait, wait.” James interrupted, holding his hands up from the table as Lily folded her lips over her teeth like she was working over time trying not to laugh. “Hang on. Are you telling me-”

“This is not funny, James.” Sirius hissed, glaring daggers at Remus though his hold on Harry in his arms was as soft as ever.

A giggle escaped Lily’s lips, though she was quick to slap a hand over her mouth when Sirius turned his burning gaze to her. 

“You’re telling me” James continued “that your girlfriend-”

“My sister.” Sirius interrupted.

“- that you love-”

“More than life itself, right.” Remus continued.

“- told you she was pregnant, and you…” James trailed off, clearly waiting for someone else to jump in here. 

“Came here?” Lily tried.

“Ran off like a sod?” Sirius muttered. 

“Told her you…didn’t believe her?” James offered.

“It’s impossible!” Remus argued.

“Do you not fuck your girlfriend, Moons?” James drawled then, causing Sirius to moan very dramatically as he held his son against his face as if he couldn’t even look at Remus right now; Harry, for his part, found that hilarious and started pulling at his papa’s long hair. 

“Sod off, James.” Remus groaned miserably as he ran his hands over his face. “It’s impossible, werewolves cannot procreate.”

It was Lily who asked “Says who?” 

“Just… everyone.”

“Everyone?” James asked, his eyebrows rising over the frames of his glasses.

“Yes, James, everyone.” Remus hissed. “The…healers-”

“Would have told your parents they had ‘no idea what your future holds’.” Lily explained simply. “What lycanthrope have they studied to know if that’s true or not?”

“There has never been any cases of a werewolf successfully procreating, Lily.” Remus explained simply.

“So just because it’s never been bloody written down, you think it could never happen?” Sirius spat then, looking around Harry’s little body who still had a fistfull of his hair to level Remus with a look. “So, what? She’s lying? She’s making it up? She’s cheating on you?”

The room fell quiet as everyone, even Harry, turned to look at Remus as they waited for a response.

“Remus.” Lily breathed out in disbelief when he didn’t provide one.

“You didn’t…” James sighed.

“Remus fucking Lupin, I swear to Merlin if you-”

“What was I supposed to say!?” Remus exploded then. “I- it’s supposed to be impossible. Werewolves cannot or do not procreate, they cannot be parents, they-”

But his excuses sounded feeble, even to his own ears. Lily was right; no studies as such have ever been conducted on lycanthropes. Sirius was right; there was no evidence because it had just never been written down. James was right; Remus does fuck his girlfriend. 

Remus had always assumed this was just one more thing that his lifelong curse had stolen from him; the ability to ever have a family of his own. 

Although, there were a lot of things Remus’ lycanthropy was supposed to have taken from him, yet….

Yet, he had two parents who loved him unconditionally and did everything they could for him, even though there were no rule books or how-to guides on raising a werewolf child. Yet, he had been accepted to attend Hogwarts at age 11, even though he never expected to be able to attend school with his affliction. Yet, he met four boys on the train who turned out to be his roommates, who turned out to be his friends, who turned out to be his pack, even though they didn’t have to be. Yet, he found himself a precious love who loved him in return, even though you were raised to lift your nose at anyone who wasn’t a pureblood, even though you were raised to harbour disdain for creatures and beasts alike, even though you were a Black and he was a Lupin, even though you were a Slytherin and he was a Gryffindor, even though….even though. 

Remus wasn’t supposed to have any of this, yet here he was. And he wasn’t supposed to ever have children of his own, yet…

“Oh Godric.” Remus breathed out as he sat back in his chair; both hands over his mouth in a silent gasp as he stared unseeingly past his three friends. 

“You know Sunny loves you to the stars and back, Remus.” Sirius started earnestly. “And the fact that you think she could have ever betrayed you like that-”

“I didn’t.” Remus hissed. “I don’t.”

“I know, Rem.” Lily offered, even though Sirius didn’t seem all that convinced. “It’s just what you thought made the most sense at the time.” 

But it really didn’t make sense at all. The thought would have absolutely never crossed his mind in a million years if he hadn’t been told his entire life that this was just impossible for him. 

“Have you wanted kids, Rem?” James asked quietly then, and Remus’ eyes came back into focus as he looked at Harry.

Harry, who was the spitting image of James, who had Lily’s eyes, who had Sirius’ mischief. Who was loved beyond measure and loved his parents exactly as they were.

Did he want kids? He certainly liked kids. He loved Harry. He thinks he’d be a good dad… that is, if it weren’t for the lyca-

“I can see where your mind is going, Remus.” Lily interrupted his spiralling then. “We didn’t ask if you should be a dad - which is not even a question, by the way - we asked if you wanted to be.”

“Yes.” Remus whispered; the answer came so easily. 

“Alright then.” Sirius declared, sitting Harry up as if they both meant business. “So let’s pretend - even for a sodding second - that Y/N did end up pregnant by some random imaginary bloke that doesn’t exist. This would mean that she apparently had many options, yet she came running to tell you. She’s pregnant, and she wants to do this with you.” 

And if Remus didn’t feel like an arse before, he certainly felt like one now. He knows you would never do that to him, of course he does. But even if you had the choice of 100 other men to father your child - all of whom would be able to provide for you better, who wouldn’t risk the safety of your child every month, who wouldn’t risk passing that curse down to your child, who wouldn’t make their life harder by simply being the offspring of a werewolf - you wanted it to be him. You wanted Remus. 

The good, the bad, and The Wolf - you wanted him all. 

“I think you need to go talk to your girlfriend, Moons.” James offered with a hopeful smile, and Remus couldn’t agree more. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The flat was quiet when Remus stepped through the floo; the entire space seemed spotless, evidence of your anxious tidying taking over after Remus took off.

Remus tried to tamp down the guilt and shame working its way up his throat as he took off his shoes and jacket, placing them in their designated spots lest he disrupt the perfect kept house you’ve worked on all afternoon (and well into the evening, now that Remus could see that the sun was long gone from the sky). 

He found you in the living room at the desk bent over a book and some papers, and Remus found himself smiling without his consent when he was brought back to late nights in the Hogwarts library; his grades profiting greatly simply because he wanted to find any excuse to be in your company. He’d find out later that you were doing the same. 

You looked over at him expectantly, and Remus felt his heart splinter at the cautious, uncertain expression on your face. It was as though you were afraid of him, like you weren’t sure what he was about to do or say. 

“Dove?” He ventured. “Can we talk?” 

“That’s what I’d been trying to do, Remus.” You merely whispered, and Remus can’t remember the last time he’d ever heard you sound so small.

He made for you immediately, crouching down beside your chair so that he could look up at you. “I’m so sorry, baby, I-”

“And you accused me of whoring around and ran out on me.” You added, and the final fracture split Remus’ heart in two when he saw your eyes well with tears. “Remus, I would never-”

“I know dove, I know.” Remus insisted, reaching up to take your face in both of his, quickly wiping at the tears falling from your lower lashes. “I know you wouldn’t. I know that, I just- I didn’t think it was possible for me, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to have kids.”

You sucked in a shuddering breath and closed your eyes, clearly trying to will away the onslaught of emotions. Remus felt like scum of the earth. 

“I never imagined I’d ever get a chance like this.” He whispered. 

“Well,” you offered primly, and Remus could tell you were working hard to imbue a certain levity to your words, “I’m not sure that you should, now. Taking off on me like that.” 

Remus knew you were joking, but he sighed at you as he pouted his lips. “M’so sorry, dove.”

“You should be.” You agreed, though you leaned forward to press your forehead against his. 

The two of you sat in silence for some time; you evening out your breathing, and Remus drawing circles with his thumbs where they rested on your arms as his legs started to cramp. 

“Are you really going to have my baby?” He whispered then; the weight of the words finally settling somewhere deep within his soul, though not unpleasantly. 

“Well, yes, but I’m not going to do it on my own.” You responded, sitting up to look at Remus imploringly. “So what do you say, Lupin? Are you in or out?”

In, of course. All the way in; for as long as he lived, for as long as you wanted him, he was in. He was all in.

[hearts4hughes]

present wrapping - nicholas chavez x fem!reader

holly jolly november

you and nicholas are sitting on the living room floor surrounded by wrapping paper, ribbons, and half-wrapped gifts. nick, looking a bit lost, holds a lumpy, unevenly wrapped box in his hands while you can’t help but laugh.

“okay, so… what exactly is this?” you giggle, pointing at his interestingly wrapped present.

with a sheepish grin on his face, he blushes, “a masterpiece? or maybe an abstract art piece. wrapping paper’s like my worst enemy right now.”

“yeah, i can tell.” you smile as he scratches the back of his neck. “give me that, i’ll teach you.”

half-wrapped present in hand, he shuffles closer to you on the floor. you take the present from him, removing the wrapping paper, and placing it down. as you explain to him the steps of present wrapping, he can’t help but be distracted by how pretty you looked under the christmas lights.

you and nick had always been close friends. you met through a mutual friend and clicked instantly. people joked around calling you platonic soulmates and nick always smiled, internally wishing for more. and now, with your soft voice and stunning face, it was harder for him to hide his feelings.

“earth to nick?” you snap at him and raise your brows. “are you even paying attention?”

he blinks his thoughts out of his eyes and nods. “uh- yeah.”

you roll your eyes with a playful smirk. “well, you better be because i’m making you do it yourself afterwards.”

he chuckled. you were always sassy and sarcastic, two of the many things he loved about you.

“and done!” you held up your perfectly wrapped box with a box fastened on top. “why don’t you try it? just fold and tape, it’s pretty simple.” you say it like it’s the easiest thing in the world as you hand him the roll of tape and wrapping paper.

his mouth is agape at how easy you made it seem. “you mean, try to not tape my fingers to the box?”

“exactly. small goals.” you begin laughing as he manages to tape down the paper without issue. he looks at you with a smug expression, taking pride in how he did the first step.

you watch as he focuses, carefully folding the paper like you showed him, his brows furrowed in concentration. there’s something endearing about how hard he’s trying, and you can’t help but smile.

“not bad… okay, okay, you’re actually doing pretty well,” you say, grinning. “maybe i am a good teacher.”

“or maybe you just have the patience of a saint.” he chuckles, nudging you with his shoulder.

finally, he secures the last piece of tape, then looks at the gift, a bit crooked but charming in its own way.

“there,” he says, looking at you proudly. “what do you think?”

“i think you’re a natural.” you both laugh, the sound warm and easy.

there’s a quiet pause, and you realize how close you’re sitting. the christmas lights cast a soft glow, and for a second, you wonder if he’s feeling the same thing you are.

“thanks for helping me… and for putting up with my terrible wrapping skills,” he says softly.

“hey, anytime,” you reply, meeting his gaze, your voice dropping to a whisper. “it’s actually kinda fun.”

a beat of silence falls over the room like snow on christmas eve. the two of you gaze into each others eyes and for a moment, time froze and only the two of you existed. nicholas’s eyes flickered between yours and your lips.

without another word, he leans in, his lips brushing yours in a gentle, unexpected kiss that feels like it’s been waiting to happen for a long time. it’s soft, warm, and perfectly timed, just like everything else tonight.

he pulls back with a smile. “sorry, i-”

you interrupt him, “i don’t mind.” your face is flushed with maroon hues. you try to regulate your breathing.

“good, because i’ve been wanting to do that… well, for longer than i’d like to admit.”

you lean into him with a content smile. in that moment, you felt whole. like whatever had been missing inside of you had suddenly been filled. you both let out a small giggle, content with this now cherished moment.

[therealdisneyfan2319]

Early Morning Rain | Wanda Maximoff

A Stripper MILF Wanda Cinematic Universe Story

Summary: An early rainy morning with Wanda

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+, MINORS DNI), language

Word Count: 2.5K

Masterlist

Rainy weekend mornings have always held a special place in your heart.  You weren’t sure if it was the allure of spending all day snuggled under the covers or the way the world seemed to stand still under a blanket of grey, but these kinds of days were some of your favorites to wake up to.  This gloomy Sunday was no different except for one minor difference: Wanda Maximoff was in bed next to you.

Wanda was still asleep, the blankest covering her rising and falling as she breathed deeply in the early morning hours.  Her fiery red hair spread over the pillow and cascaded down toward you.

You leaned forward as you brushed Wanda’s hair away from your neck, softly planting a kiss on the porcelain skin that was left exposed.  She remained motionless as your lips lingered above the spot you only just kissed.  Smiling, you gently kissed the same spot again and again.  Wanda sighed deeply as your kisses intensified.  You felt her body stiffen as she stretched her limbs, ever so slowly waking from her slumber.

“Watimeizit?” Wanda mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

“What was that?” you mumbled against the crook of her neck.

“What time is it?” she yawned.

“Early.”

“The boys up?”

“It’s too early for that.”  You wrapped your arm around her waist, pulling yourself into her.  “Far too early.”

“Is it?” 

Her hand teased up your arm.  Slowly.  Gently.  Her fingers brushed over yours, sending a shiver up your spine.  A rush of heat began to wash over you.  You remembered the countless other times you found yourself in this exact situation with Wanda.  You remembered the way your head nestled in the crook of her neck as you relished the afterglow, the quiet gasps as the two of you struggled to stay quiet, the feeling of her hand resting against your stomach as she begged for your release.

“They won’t hear us,” you whispered.  The heat flowed downward, reaching your core.  Wanda’s backside grinded into your pelvis.  Each breath you took felt like it could be your last with the way anticipation bubbled up inside of you.  It was almost painful.  Excruciating.  The wait was killing you.  The thought of being with Wanda nearly drove you to the point of madness no matter how many times you two were together.

As Wanda leaned back to look at you, her eyes ever so enchanting, you finally gave into temptation and kissed her.  A feeling of ecstasy blossomed inside you as your lips touched.  The scent of her vanilla shampoo instantly overwhelmed your senses.  Wanda’s lips were soft and warm, their silky essence captured between your own.  You were tentative at first.  Not wanting to overwhelm yourself with all of Wanda first thing in the morning was a task in and of itself.  She was intoxicating, and the slower and gentler you kissed her the more you found yourself wanting to drown in her.  

Gently, you rolled yourself on top of Wanda, your hand sliding from her midsection up to lightly grasp her cheek as you locked her top lip between yours.  You felt her swallow a soft moan as you bit down on her lip.  Wanda’s arms wrapped around your back as you nestled your legs between hers.  The distance between the two of you lessened, only made completely impossible by the tent of your pajama pants between her legs.  

An involuntary gasp left your lips at the familiar feeling of Wanda’s fingertips tracing down your spine. It filled you with an excruciating desire that only she could quell.

“I like it when you’re like this,” Wanda giggled between kisses.

“Like what?” you teased.  “On top of you?”

“That’s just a bonus.”

“So what do you like then?”

“When you can’t hide how badly you need me.”

Bright red heat flushed over your cheeks.  Wanda embarrassed you and yet simultaneously filled you with even more desire.  There was something about the way she admitted to finding your desire attractive that made her even more desirable.

“What gave it away?”  An not-too-unfamiliar feeling of anxiety caught in your throat as you gazed down into her eyes.  She was so beautiful, something you reminded her of every single day while she felt the years wear on her.  “Is it that obvious?” you asked, rolling your hips ever so slightly into hers.  Wanda groaned at the feeling of your erection grinding into her pelvis.

“I’d say so,” she whispered, kissing you softly as she brought one hand up to cup your cheek and the other down to rest on your hip as you laid atop her.  You stared at one another as your breaths grew erratic, tinged with want and desire.  

“I love you,” you breathed against her lips. “I love you so much.”  You crashed your lips into hers.  There was nothing holding you back from craving each and every inch of her.  

Your kisses became frantic and hungry as your hands explored every inch of each other’s bodies.  You couldn’t help but grin into the kiss as Wanda’s hands tangled in your hair, tugging your soft locks in a way that sent bursts of electricity through each and every nerve in your body.  Wanda gasped at the sensation of your smile against her lips.  Her eyes fluttered open, gazing at you adoringly as she toyed with your hair.  

“Take your shirt off.”

“Are you asking or are you telling?”

“Take your shirt.  Off.”  

You sat up, reaching behind you to pull your shirt up as Wanda helped lift the hem.  She rested her hands on your stomach as you threw the shirt on to the floor behind you, rubbing them ever so slightly up and down.  The closer she got to the waistband of your pants, the more intensely you felt your erection throb against the confines of the fabric.  

“Wanda-”

“Take my shirt off.”

“Are you asking or are you telling?”

“I want you to take my shirt off.”

“Yes ma’am,” you gulped.

Wanda sat up ever so slightly, giving you access to the bottom of her shirt as you pulled it up, exposing her toned midsection and her breasts as she raised her arms up.  You threw the shirt behind you with yours.  Sitting there, on top of her, you gently grabbed her waist and rested your head against hers.

“Why am I so nervous right now?” you whispered.  

“I don’t know.”  You felt Wanda’s laugh against your face.  “First time?” 

“I don’t think so.”

“Been a while?”

“Only if you count two days ago as a while.”

“You love me so much that even the thought of me still makes you nervous?”

“Most likely.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Wanda whispered.  Her hands found their way to your pants, her fingers slinking inside the waistband.  “This is the fun part.”

“Take them off.  Please.”

“Are you asking or are you telling?” “Wanda…”  She snickered as she tugged on the waistband.  You sat up on your knees, allowing her tug pull them down your thighs before you awkwardly kicked them off and on to the floor.  Not wanting to waste much more time, Wanda kicked off her shorts, too.

“Thought I’d save you the effort.”

“How considerate,” you joked.  Wanda had already laid back down on the bed.  Anticipation thrummed in your chest as you laid back down on top of her.  Her hands found your hair again, one of her favorite places, as she looked back up at you adoringly.

“I only do it because I love you.”

You smiled, placing a chaste kiss on her lips as you reached for your cock.  You rubbed your tip between Wanda’s lips.  Her slickness coated you as you teased her most sensitive spot.  Her wetness was audible.  It echoed off the walls.  Quiet.  Loud.  Too much.  Not enough.  God you needed her.  She moaned as you grinded against her clit, stimulating the both of you.  It felt so good, you couldn’t help but keep going.  You wanted to watch her writhe in ecstasy as you touched her in all the right ways over and over and over.  Wanda’s arousal mixed with your own as you held yourself back from making a mess of yourself too soon.

“I love how good that feels,” Wanda moaned, her words chopped as she gasped for air.  “I need you inside me, baby.”

It took the slightest touch to lower yourself down from her clit into Wanda herself.  You groaned loudly, the feeling of fire setting your entire body ablaze.  The pounding in your chest made it hard to breathe, hard to see, hard to think straight, and your forearms burned as you feebly attempted to hold yourself up.

“Oh god,” you whispered, eyes screwed shut in sheer pleasure.  Wanda tugged gently on your hair.  It was her way of reminding you that she was still there.  This was real, this was now, this was happening.

“You’re okay.  You’re okay, sweetheart.”  Her thumb found your cheek, caressing it gently.  “Take your time.  We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Slowly, you rolled your hips into hers, thrusting your length deeper inside her.  In and out, in and out, in and out.  Breaths mixed with moans and gasps, the soft slap of sweat-gleaned skin against skin, the gentle creak of the bed as your weight shifted back and forth all engulfed the two of you as the rain gently splattered against the windows.  

“You don’t seem nervous anymore,” Wanda joked as you continued to fill her entirely.

“I’m not.”

“Then pick up the pace.”

“I thought you said we had all the time in the world.”

“We do,” she replied, half-gasping for breath as she brushed a damp strand of hair out of her face.  “I just want you to go faster.”

“Do you now?” You questioned, rolling your hips only slightly faster.

“Mmhmm.”

“How’s that?”

“Faster.”

“You want me to go faster?”

“God yes.  Please.  Please.  I need you so bad.”  You obliged, not wanting to disappoint as you quickened your pace further.  “Just like that.”

“Is that good?”   

“Fuck,” Wanda moaned.  She squeezed around you, her walls stimulating your entire length.   The bed creaked louder, shaking as you filled Wanda again and again, pulling out halfway before slamming back into her.

The intensity of your movement exhausted you, causing your arms to absolutely give out after a few minutes.  Wanda pulled you close as you collapsed on top of her.  The crook of her neck became your pillow as you nestled your head there.  In and out, in and out.  The familiar coil of release started burning deep in your core.  It was all you could do to kiss and lick and suck her neck as her whines and whimpers got progressively louder the closer she drew to her own release.  

“Wanda,” you murmured against her neck.

“I need you.  I need all of you right now.”

Whatever entity controlled the universe took pity on you in that moment as you found the strength to push yourself up.  Your forehead met hers as every ounce of energy left in your body focused on the release that was dangerously close.

“I’m right here,” you panted.  

“I need you so bad.”

“I’m close,” you groaned.

“Please,” she whined.  “Please, I want you to-”

The coil inside you finally snapped.  You exploded inside her, filling her with burst after burst of your cum.  Waves of pleasure washed over your body.  Involuntary moans erupted from your mouth as your arms gave out from a combination of pleasure and exhaustion.  You crashed on top of Wanda as your hips abruptly snapped into her one, two, three more times.  On your final sharp thrust, Wanda came undone.  

“Oh god!” Wanda’s breathless high pitched scream brought a smile to your lips.  Her walls squeezed you in a jarring rhythmic pattern milking every last drop from you.  She gasped and groaned again and again as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her body.

The damp scent of sweat and sex hung in the air as you both gasped for air, sweaty limbs entwined while you remained joined as one.  While you weren’t one for such mushy, romantic thoughts, the idea of being inside Wanda, of being so intimately and vulnerably connected, filled you with a surge of love for the woman who brought so much joy and meaning into your life.

“Hey,” you whispered, your nose lightly brushing hers.  Wanda’s eyes were still screwed shut.  Her hair was plastered to her forehead with beads of sweat, her cheeks flushed with the afterglow of her orgasm.

“Hi,” she whispered back as her eyes unscrewed, though they remained shut.

“You okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Can I pull out?”

“Mm-mm.  I like the way you feel.”

“Okay,” you chuckled before kissing the corner of her lip.  “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“You don’t hear the boys, do you?  They’re still asleep?”

“It’s 7 am, Wanda.  We’ve still got a few hours if you want to go for round two.”

“I don’t think I can.  I’m not as young as you, remember?  You forget that sometimes.”

“Doesn’t bother me,” you shrugged, trailing your fingers up and down her side as you laid on her.

“I know,” she replied in a small voice.  Wanda gazed up at you with those adoring emerald eyes that made you fall more madly in love with every time you looked at them.  

The two of you stayed in the silence for a while, staring into the depths of each other’s soul.  There was something incredibly comforting about the familiarity of each other and the love that needed no words to fill the space.   

“Do you want some coffee?” you asked after a long while.  Wanda nodded sleepily.  “Okay.”  Groaning, you pushed yourself up off her still-flushed body and pulled your now-soft cock out from inside her.  A thick strand of white gushed out of her and dribbled onto the damp sheets.

“Fuck,” she groaned.  “I love feeling your cum inside me.”

“Watching it come out of you like that was pretty hot,” you sheepishly admitted.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You know what I think?” “What?”

“I think.” Wanda teased, reaching toward your soft cock that was once again beginning to twitch with desire.  “I think I want you to cum inside me again.”

“What happened to being too old for another go?” you joked.

“You have a bad habit of making me feel young again.  Besides,” she added breathlessly, “I desperately need you to fill me up again, and I need you to tell me how good I feel as it happens.”

You groaned at the feeling of Wanda’s hand closing around your cock.  It would be a long while until that coffee, and it was the most sincere hope that what you were about to do to Wanda wouldn’t wake the boys. 

[lemoniiiiiii]

nighttime reading

(dad!peter maximoff x fem!reader) in where your husband's on night duty and runs into a bit of trouble trying to prep a bottle...

content: fluff (idk that's really it), daughter's name is luna b/c uhm canon ig!, might ooc or like lack of character idk I'm not great a writing peter aha..

a/n: started this WIP a while ago but the evanverse discord gave me the inspo to finish it so this is for them LOL

--

3 AM. once again the baby monitor fires up, the shrieking wails of your newborn waking you. you begin to instinctively rise from your laying position with a groan. you get about halfway up before your husband peter wraps a toned arm around you, pulling you back in.

"nggh... babe..." you protest his affections with irritated whines, knowing you need to be tending to your daughter right now not cuddling (as much as you wanted to).

peter lets out a low hum and peppers your face with soft kisses. you try to fight the impending slumber but your eyes begin to flutter through his attempts to coax you back to sleep.

"i've got'er..." he mumbles into your hair, giving you one last squeeze before getting out of bed himself and trudging across the way to the nursery.

"alright, kiddo work with me tonight we've gotta let your mama get some rest..." peter turns the soft light lamp on, walking over to the crib he so awesomely built without reading the instructions (by far one of his greatest achievements... aside from creating his daughter of course).

he leans over to see the 2 month old's tiny and delicate body tense as she cries, hands gripped in small tight fists.

with a gentle touch, he lifts luna from the crib, cradling her securely in his arms. he rocks her softly, bouncing slightly on his feet.

for a moment, the cries soften, and peter breathes a quiet sigh of relief. but then she lets out another sharp wail, a hungry, insistent cry that lets him know she’s not going to be easily soothed tonight.

peter heads downstairs with her, still adjusting to this slower way of moving. normally, he’d zip around the house at inhuman speed, but with a newborn, that’s a no-go. for the past couple months, he’s been learning to slow down for her—taking the stairs, walking instead of zooming. he’d even forced himself to learn to drive. slowing down had sucked, but for his two favorite girls he’d do anything.

in the kitchen, he opens the fridge and sighs when he realizes the last bottle is gone. all that’s left is frozen breast milk, and luna’s cries tell him that waiting for it to defrost isn’t an option. no way is he waking you up either. it’ll have to be formula.

peter opens a cabinet and grabs the formula container, peering at the label and trying to remember the steps you’d shown him. he squints at the tiny font, racking his brain. “uh… powder or water first? shit, i can’t remember…you don’t happen to remember, do you?”

he chuckles and glances down at luna his expressioin shifting when he sees her little face red and frustrated. a pang of guilt hits peter. he should’ve paid more attention when you taught him. “sorry, baby girl. i know. don’t worry, i’ll figure it out.”

he squints at the label again, bringing it close to his face. the letters on the label were pretty much illegible to his eyes, no matter how close he brought the container to them. “stupid tiny words…” he mutters. “your old man’s getting old, luna…”

peter huffs, finally accepting the inevitable, and heads to the bathroom. reaching into the bottom drawer, he pulls out a small glasses case he’s been hiding from you. using his free hand he brings the glasses up and flips them open using his mouth to slip them on. he hates how he looks in them and hates how they feel on his face, but damn... he really needed them. he stares down at the canister, finally able to read the label and prepares the bottle carefully, determined to get it right for her. no more bsing the things he couldn't read.

as he finally settles into the couch with luna nestled in his arms, feeding her the bottle he’s made, he finds himself gazing at her small face. for the first time, he can clearly see every detail—the curve of her cheeks, the faint little dimples, the perfect mix of both of you in her delicate features.

“i’m holding the most beautiful girl in the world in my arms… did you know that?” he whispers softly. luna’s innocent, unfocused eyes meet his, and she keeps suckling, making him chuckle. “ahh, i’m sure you know. your parents aren’t too bad-looking either, huh?”

“looks like i’ve been demoted from my title,” you say with a sleepy smile as you step into the kitchen. “rightfully so… she’s pretty cute.”

“she is…” peter agrees, glancing up at you with a soft smile. “but babe, you should be sleeping”

“just needed some water,” you say, moving to the sink and filling a glass.

he nods, watching you as you sip, your gaze shifting to the open formula container and his glasses, still perched on his nose. “couldn’t read the label?”

"uh- well- yeah... how did you-"

“the glasses,” you both say at the same time, sharing a laugh.

“i actually like them on you,” you say with a smirk. “honestly, it’s… kind of hot.”

peter, well aware of his bedhead, the beginnings of stubble, and his deep set eyebags, laughs. “I think you need more sleep.”

“well, maybe,” you say with a yawn. “but hey before I head back up.. I just wanted to tell you... I’m proud of you. I know you feel lost sometimes with little luna and me, but you’re doing a great job, babe. you’re a good dad.”

hearing your words, peter feels the weight of his self doubt lighten. becoming a parent scared the shit out of him, especially since he didn't really have a father figure to go off on. but hearing this from you, he feels a rush of gratitude and relief.

when you finish your drink, he takes your glass, setting it aside as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “go get some rest...”

you press a soft kiss to his lips, squeezing him in a quick hug before leaning down to gently stroke luna’s head. then you head upstairs. peter watches you go, smiling to himself, then looks down at his daughter with a chuckle.

“hey, luna,” he whispers, stroking her cheek. “you okay with your old man looking like a grandpa?”

--

tags (ask to be added or removed anytime!): @fear-is-truth @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @violetsghosts @quickreider @tiffysdeath @honeymoon8 @wcnderlnds @lacucarachapisser @xrag-dollx @oceanblvd111 @andiloveher @vi0l3tgard3ns @evanbabybear @melsimps

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Needy Lucifer x Reader - Morning Routine (NSFW)

Waking up next to Lucifer every morning was nothing short of a dream come true

More often than not, he’d be up before you, waiting for you to open your eyes and greet you with a gentle smile

It wasn’t long after that he would hop out of bed and offer to make you breakfast just so he could bring it to you in bed

But one particular morning, you woke up to something a little different

You forced your eyes open, the harsh light of hell shining through the window of your room

But when your eyes finally adjusted, you didn’t see Lucifer smiling like he always does

Instead, you felt his arms wrapped around your waist, his forehead pressed into your back and his breath quiet and shallow

Lucifer’s bucked into your body continuously, tiny little whimpers escaping his throat despite his best efforts to keep quiet

The poor angel was humping into your body like his life depended on it!

And God, the feeling of his hard cock pressed up against you could have driven you to the brink

It was very rare to see your king this needy so early in the morning; you decided to take advantage of the situation

“Lucifer? What are you doing?~”

“H-Honey! Shit, I-I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Just a little bit. But you didn’t answer me, what are you doing?~”

“I-I…fuck, I’m sorry…I don’t know what came over me…I just…I need you, please…”

“Was last night not enough for you, Luci?~ You’re being a little greedy now, don’t you think?~”

“N-No! Last night was perfect! You’re always perfect, love! I-I just…” You teased him by wiggling your ass against the tent in his pants, causing him to whine and shudder at the unexpected friction

”I don’t know, baby, do you think it’s becoming of a king to behave like this? Begging like a man who’s never been touched?~”

“Sweetie, p-please, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…I mean, I’m not…”

“Luci, I need to shower! You have to let me go.~”

Lucifer let out the most pathetic cry you’ve ever heard from him; he was already too far gone and you loved everything about it

You felt his arms loosen around you as he pushed himself away from you reluctantly

You giggled to yourself as your hands found the hem of your panties and shoved them down until you could kick them off

You looked over your shoulder to see Lucifer’s stare, his mouth hung agape

You flashed him a coy smile before reaching down and spreading apart your glistening pussy for him

“Oh come on now, Luci, you know I would never leave you in the state you’re in! I was only teasing you.~”

“B-But I thought…”

“I just needed you to let go for a moment, I couldn’t give you access with the way you were wrapped around me!”

Lucifer’s tail appeared suddenly, thrashing back and forth like a predator about to pounce

All he needed was your word

“Go ahead, it’s okay my little angel, I want you to fuck me like a good boy~”

Not even a second passed before Lucifer’s briefs were removed and he resumed his previous position of being wrapped around you like a koala

But this time, his cock was fully sheathed inside of you leaking cunt with his tail wrapped impossibly tight around your thigh that you had held up for him

His thrusts were utterly desperate; the only things he could utter were weak “thank you’s” and completely needy moans

You didn’t fair any better as his cock was absolutely destroying you; unable to form any coherent sentence

If he was like this now, you wondered how he would respond to an invitation to join you for a shower after he was done filling you with his angelic cum~

[goblin-jr]

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you.

part 3 of 12

Synopsis: rafe apology, wheezie is the best cameron, rainy confessions

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

masterlist

---

The afternoon was steady at the country club. Y/N’s shift had been busy enough to keep her distracted, and with her coworkers absorbed in their own tasks, she’d managed to slip away a few times to shake off the throbbing pain left over from the boat incident. The last thing she wanted was pity—or worse, anyone worrying about her.

But when she turned around to restock a pile of guest towels, she froze. Rafe Cameron had just walked in with his family. She could see them through the grand glass doors of the club’s dining room, his parents trailing behind him, polished and imposing as ever. He looked over and spotted her before she had a chance to slip away, and his eyes narrowed as if he had something to say.

Y/N tensed. She still couldn’t shake off the anger from that night. Her bruises had faded, but her loyalty to the Pogues hadn’t. Whatever Rafe thought he had to say, she wasn’t interested. She busied herself with folding the towels, pretending she hadn’t noticed him watching her.

It didn’t work.

“Y/N,” Rafe’s voice was quiet but firm as he approached, hands shoved in his pockets, his posture almost… unsure. She’d never seen him like this—reserved and even a bit hesitant.

She didn’t look up. “I’m working,” she said bluntly, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. But Rafe didn’t budge.

“Just wanted to talk. About the other day.”

Y/N clenched her jaw. “No need. You said enough then.”

He sighed. “Look, I know things got out of hand. I’m… sorry, okay? I didn’t mean for it to go like that. I didn’t know my friends were going to—”

“Yeah? And what did you think would happen?” She finally looked up, her expression steely. “You show up, insult us, throw a few things around, and expect everything to be fine?”

Just then, a younger girl joined them, glancing curiously between Y/N and Rafe. It was his sister, Wheezie, her wide eyes betraying the same curiosity and innocence that Rafe seemed to lack. The irritation in Y/N’s chest softened just a little as she watched the younger Cameron—a reminder that not everyone in Rafe’s family carried the same smugness or sense of entitlement he did.

“Rafe!” Wheezie chirped, tugging on his arm. “Did you get the book I asked about?”

Rafe’s face softened as he looked down at his sister. He ruffled her hair lightly, which made her wrinkle her nose but also grin up at him. “Yeah, yeah, I did. I had to go to three stores to find it, but it’s waiting for you in the car.”

Y/N watched the exchange in silence, surprised to see this side of Rafe. He spoke to Wheezie with a gentleness she didn’t associate with him. Gone was the antagonistic, arrogant guy who had pushed her friends’ buttons time and again. Here, he was just… a big brother.

“Really?” Wheezie’s eyes widened in excitement. “You didn’t have to do that!”

Rafe shrugged, as if it was nothing. “It’s not a big deal, Wheeze. You asked, so I figured why not.”

Watching him interact with Wheezie, Y/N felt her defenses waver, if only for a moment. There was something unguarded in his expression, a hint of someone who wasn’t just the entitled, reckless Kook she’d come to know.

Wheezie turned her gaze to Y/N, her brows knitting together. “Hi. Do you work here?”

Y/N managed a small, polite nod. “Yeah, just part-time.”

The younger girl’s face lit up with interest. “Oh, that’s so cool. Do you like it?” 

Rafe ruffled Wheezie’s hair, his face easing into an unexpectedly gentle expression. “Not everyone loves work as much as you do, Wheeze.”

Rafe turned back to you and let out a resigned sigh and nodded, stepping back with his hands still tucked in his pockets. “I really am sorry, Y/N.” Rafe’s face softened, but he didn’t defend himself. “I get it. You don’t have to believe me. I just… wanted you to know.” 

“Well, I’d better get back to setting up,” Y/N muttered, sidestepping Rafe and allowing the Camerons to reunite with Ward and Rose. 

After Rafe walked away, Y/N kept herself busy around the dining room, making sure the place settings were perfect and double-checking that every glass sparkled. She glanced up as she heard Wheezie’s cheerful voice down the hallway, joking with one of the waitstaff. Rafe was still nearby, now talking with his younger sister.

Y/N watched from a distance as Rafe bent down slightly, giving Wheezie his full attention as she animatedly told him some story. He smiled at her, nodding and even laughing a little. It was such a simple, everyday thing, yet it felt oddly intimate—a glimpse of Rafe’s life that Y/N hadn’t expected to see.

Why was he… kind of sweet? She hated the thought as soon as it popped into her head, but she couldn’t shake it.

He looked up, and their eyes met for just a second. Flustered, Y/N busied herself with a table setting, heart pounding, wishing she hadn’t been caught watching him like that.

—

A few hours later, Y/N found herself in the storage room. /N made her way to the back, feeling the familiar ache in her ribs from the altercation on the boat. She needed to restock the shelves with glassware for the evening setup, but as she reached for the heavy box, a sharp pain shot through her side, forcing her to stop and catch her breath.

She steeled herself, attempting to lift the box again despite the discomfort. Just as she was bracing herself, a familiar voice interrupted her struggle.

“Need a hand with that?”

She turned, caught off guard to find Rafe leaning casually in the doorway, hands in his pockets as if he owned the place—which, she reminded herself, wasn’t far from the truth. The Camerons had invested heavily in the club, and Rafe’s family essentially had free rein over the entire building. Still, seeing him there felt strange.

“I didn’t ask for help,” Y/N replied, her voice edged with defiance as she let go of the box.

Rafe didn’t seem fazed by her tone. He walked over, looking her over as he reached for the box himself, easily lifting it and placing it on the upper shelf she’d struggled to reach.

“There. Now you don’t have to break a rib over it,” he said, a faint smirk crossing his face. But he softened, giving her an earnest look. “Look, about the boat… I really am sorry. Things got out of hand, and my friends—they can be idiots.”

Y/N raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re telling me.”

Rafe looked down for a second, his expression almost sheepish. “You have every right to hate me for that.”

She paused, watching him with guarded curiosity. “Why do you care, Rafe? I mean, it’s not like we’re friends. You’ve got your whole Kook thing going on with Topper and Kelce.”

He shrugged, shifting uncomfortably. “Doesn’t mean I want you to get hurt. I don’t know… Wheezie always says I could be better about that kind of thing.” He scratched the back of his neck, as if realizing he’d said too much.

Y/N couldn’t hide her surprise at the mention of his little sister. “Wheezie? So she’s the voice of reason?”

Rafe chuckled softly. “Most days, yeah. She keeps me in check.” He leaned against the shelf, his gaze thoughtful. “She liked meeting you, you know. Thinks you’re cool for working here. She’s a weird kid, but she’s got good instincts.”

A faint smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. The last thing she’d expected was to see Rafe’s protective side, let alone hear him talk about Wheezie like this. She softened, just a little, feeling the defenses she’d thrown up after the incident on the boat begin to waver.

“Your sister’s pretty sweet,” she admitted reluctantly, shrugging. “I guess you got lucky there.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his tone almost wistful. “Guess I did.”

There was a beat of silence between them, the unspoken tension from their past encounters ebbing, if only for a moment. Rafe glanced at her again, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“Anyway, I didn’t mean for any of that stuff on the boat to happen. I get it if you still don’t trust me. But I really am sorry.”

Y/N studied him, the frustration and resentment from the boat incident lingering but softened by his sincerity. After a long pause, she exhaled, crossing her arms.

“Fine. Apology accepted,” she muttered, trying to sound casual. “But don’t think this changes anything.”

Rafe shrugged, a hint of that familiar smirk returning. “Didn’t expect it to. But maybe it’s a start.”

As he turned to leave, Y/N watched him go, her feelings unsettled. She couldn’t shake the impression that, for once, Rafe didn’t seem like an enemy, and the realization left her with more questions than answers. 

—

Y/N’s shift ended later than usual, and by the time she left the country club, the sun was already dipping below the horizon. She started down the familiar path toward home, her footsteps echoing in the quiet of the evening. The air was cool, and as she walked, her thoughts drifted back to the strange encounter in the storage room.

Rafe Cameron. Of all people, he was the last person she’d expected to see there, let alone be willing to lend a hand. His apology, his quiet mention of Wheezie—none of it matched the person she thought she knew. He’d always been a Cameron, a Kook, someone she’d learned to keep her distance from. But today had left her feeling unsettled, like there was something more beneath the surface she hadn’t anticipated.

Despite herself, she couldn’t deny that she was a little curious. What Wheezie saw in him, maybe, or how the two of them interacted away from the glaring reputation he carried. For a moment, she even entertained the idea that Rafe wasn’t as bad as she thought.

But then her mind went back to the people who mattered most to her—JJ and the rest of the Pogues. They’d been her family through every up and down, no matter what. And there were things about JJ, memories she could never share with anyone else, that tied her to him in a way no one else would ever understand.

Her pace slowed as a particular memory of JJ surfaced. She could picture it as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.

---

They were twelve, maybe thirteen, and it had been one of those stormy nights on the island when the rain fell in heavy sheets, and thunder rattled the windows. Y/N had been curled up on the couch, reading, when a faint knock sounded at the door. She knew it was him before she even looked. JJ always came to her when things got too heavy at home.

That night, he’d been soaked through, his clothes clinging to him, hair plastered against his forehead. She’d let him in, wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, and led him to the old beanbag chair in her room. He was quiet, almost too quiet, and she knew better than to press him for details. His father, Luke, had always been a volatile presence in JJ’s life—a shadow that loomed over him, especially when things were bad.

They’d sat there together in silence, listening to the rain and the distant rumble of thunder. After a while, he’d finally spoken, his voice barely a whisper.

“I wish I didn’t have to go back,” he’d said, his tone full of something both broken and resigned.

Y/N had reached out, taking his hand in hers. She didn’t have to say anything. The promise was there in the silence: I’m here, and I’ll always be here.

It was moments like those, when JJ had shown her pieces of himself he’d never let anyone else see, that had woven an unbreakable thread between them. They weren’t just friends—they were each other’s safe places.

---

As Y/N walked, she was jolted out of her memories of JJ by a soft drizzle that quickly built into a steady downpour. She pulled her jacket tighter, hunching her shoulders against the chill as the rain soaked through.

She picked up her pace, hoping she could get home before she was completely drenched. Just as she turned a corner, headlights swept across the path in front of her, and a sleek, dark SUV slowed to a stop. She squinted, wiping rain from her eyes, as the passenger window rolled down.

Rafe leaned over from the driver’s seat, brow slightly raised as he took in her soaked figure. “Need a ride?” he asked, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the rain.

Y/N stifled a sigh, a wry smirk pulling at her lips despite herself. “Thrice in one day, Cameron?” she called out. “Are you following me now?”

Rafe chuckled, leaning one arm over the wheel. “Guess I can’t shake you, huh? Or maybe you’re the one following me.” He glanced out at the rain. “C’mon, get in before you catch a cold. You’ll ruin the club’s good towels.”

She stood there for a moment, watching the rain hit the ground in heavy sheets, then glanced at him through the window again. “You know, I could be stubborn enough to walk home in this,” she said with a teasing glint in her eye.

“Then you’ll be stubborn and wet,” he shot back with a grin. “Get in. I’m not leaving you out here.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, feeling the warmth of the car surrounding her immediately. She closed the door with a soft click, the sound of the rain intensifying for a moment before the windshield wipers kicked into motion.

She looked at him as he shifted into drive, silently grateful for the warmth, but still skeptical of the conversation that was about to happen. “Thanks for the ride,” she muttered, brushing water from her hair as she settled in.

“No problem,” Rafe replied, glancing over at her with a faint smile. The tension in the car was subtle, but Y/N could sense it. The day had been strange, and she wasn’t quite sure where she stood with him—if she was just another face, another person he had to deal with, or if maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than he let on.

The car was quiet for a while, only the sound of the rain and the soft hum of the engine filling the space. Y/N didn’t mind it, though. There was something oddly comforting about being alone in the car with Rafe, despite all the history between their families and the awkwardness lingering between them.

Eventually, Rafe broke the silence. “You know, you’re pretty hard to get a read on.” His voice was low, almost like he was speaking to himself. “It’s like… you’re always in your head, trying to figure things out.”

Y/N glanced at him, surprised by the observation. She shifted in her seat, slightly uncomfortable with the truth in his words. “I’m not really the open book type,” she replied after a moment, her fingers absently tapping on the seatbelt.

Rafe chuckled softly, the sound easing some of the tension. “Yeah, I figured. But you’re not the only one who keeps things locked up. I get it.” He paused, looking out at the rain-slicked road. “But it’s exhausting sometimes, you know? Trying to keep everything together.”

Y/N turned her head to study him, her curiosity piqued despite herself. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Rafe exhaled slowly, keeping his eyes on the road. “I mean, we don’t always get to choose how things turn out. Like, with my family. Everyone expects me to be… I don’t know, something I’m not. They put all this pressure on me to be perfect. To do things a certain way.” He glanced at her briefly before returning his attention to the road. “It’s like no one ever really sees me. Not for me. Just the image they want me to be.”

Y/N studied him carefully, noting the weariness in his voice. She didn’t respond immediately, unsure of how to react. Was he being genuine? Or was this just another side of Rafe Cameron who liked to keep people at arm's length?

Finally, she nodded, the words coming out more carefully than she expected. “Sounds like you don’t get a lot of room to breathe.”

He glanced over at her with a small smile. “That’s one way to put it.” His eyes lingered on her for a moment, and there was a brief pause in the air between them, charged with something unspoken.

Y/N shifted in her seat, her mind spinning with his words. “Well, I guess I get it,” she said softly. “We all have our own stuff. No one’s life is as easy as it seems.”

Rafe nodded, the faint smile still on his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. Exactly. Anyway, you’re almost home.”

The ride felt quieter after that, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Y/N looked out the window, her thoughts a mix of confusion, curiosity, and something else that she couldn’t quite name. She wasn’t sure what to make of the sudden vulnerability she’d seen in Rafe, but there was a part of her that was intrigued. Maybe he wasn’t just the entitled, spoiled Kook she’d always assumed.

The car slowed as they reached her house, and Rafe turned off the engine. Y/N hesitated, not immediately unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Thanks again, Cameron,” she said, looking over at him with a small but sincere smile.

“Don’t mention it,” Rafe replied, his tone easy. “You sure you don’t want me to walk you to the door?”

Y/N’s lips curled up slightly, though she shook her head. “I’m good. Don’t want to ruin your streak of being a decent person.” She opened the door and slid out, but before she closed it, she turned back. “Take care, Rafe.”

“You too,” he said, his voice steady.

As the car pulled away, Y/N stood there for a moment, watching the taillights fade into the rain. She couldn’t help but wonder—maybe there was more to Rafe than she’d originally thought.

[pandapetals]

Watch It, Bub

Logan whips out his claws to scare off some creepy guy for you.

logan howlett x fem!shy reader - etablished bf/gf, shy reader, introvert reader, bookish reader, logan being protective, logan whipping his claws out, cute ending, some fluff, some angst, no y/n used, no reader description, sweetheart/darlin pet names used

a/n: inspired by @romanarose post about logan whipping out his claws at any tiny threat towards reader.

"Take your time, sweetheart. I’ll be just over there looking handsome," Logan murmured, brushing a quick, warm kiss against your cheek before stepping away.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes at his usual confidence, but you felt the familiar flutter in your chest as he headed to the other side of the store. You hadn’t expected him to come with you today—bookstores weren’t exactly his thing—but here he was, giving you the space to browse in peace, even offering to pay for whatever books you wanted. He knew how much this place meant to you.

With a small smile lingering on your face, you turned down the fiction aisle, your eyes drifting over the rows of books. The shelves were packed, full of spines in every color, each one a doorway into a new world. You felt at home here, surrounded by the comforting smell of paper and dust, your fingers grazing the covers as you searched for the title you came for.

But as you rounded a corner, your easy calm shifted. A man was standing a little way down the aisle, leaning against a shelf with a book open in his hands. His posture was casual, but there was something in the way he glanced up at you—quick, assessing—that made the back of your neck prickle. His gaze lingered a second too long, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

You considered turning around, ducking into another section, but a voice in your head stopped you. Would he think that was rude? Why should you care what he thought? But still, your heart beat a little faster, and you could feel the edges of your shyness creeping in, making your movements a bit more stiff.

Taking a quiet breath, you forced yourself to keep going. You focused on the titles, searching for that book you’d been wanting. Your fingers tightened around the spine of a novel as you found it, pulling it from the shelf with a small, victorious smile. But before you could fully turn away, you heard him clear his throat.

“Hey," he said, his tone almost too casual. "So…you into that author?”

The question caught you off guard. You glanced up, your brow furrowing slightly. “What?”

He tilted his head, closing the book in his hands. "Just wondering if you’re a fan. I’ve read a lot of their stuff. Thought maybe we could compare notes.”

His smile was meant to be friendly, but there was something too forward about it, too expectant. You felt your cheeks flush, the words caught somewhere in your throat. You hadn’t prepared yourself for small talk—especially not with a stranger who seemed to have taken a bit too much interest in you.

The man’s question hung in the air, and you felt a weight in his gaze, waiting, pressing as if he had a right to your attention. Your brain scrambled for something to say, but all you could manage was, “Yeah—I mean, I guess.”

Your cheeks felt warm, an awkward flush creeping up as you struggled to fill the silence. You wished, just for once, you could handle moments like this smoothly—could just have a regular conversation without your words tangling on the way out. But another part of you bristled, reminding you that you didn’t owe this stranger anything. You glanced down at the book in your hands, hoping he’d take the hint and move on.

Instead, he stepped closer, a too-friendly grin stretching across his face. “You know,” he said, his voice dropping as if to make the conversation more intimate, “I’m always happy to give recommendations if you’re looking for something… different.” He reached out and touched your arm, a casual gesture that lingered a beat too long, his fingers warm against your sleeve.

A chill shot up your spine. You stiffened, pulling your arm back instinctively, but the man didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he didn’t care. He leaned in, that smile of his edging from friendly to something more expectant, his gaze fixed on you as if he were waiting for permission to keep going.

Your heart sped up, the edges of your discomfort sharpening. You swallowed, feeling the prickling heat of anxiety clawing its way up your throat. You opened your mouth, trying to summon a polite excuse to leave, but the words died as a shadow fell over you both.

Logan had appeared beside you, silent as a storm gathering on the horizon. His hand came to rest on your waist, pulling you close to him. He didn’t look at you—his focus was locked entirely on the stranger, his eyes dark and unblinking.

“Watch it, bub?” Logan’s voice was low and even, each word laced with a quiet, unmistakable threat. “She’s not interested.”

The stranger’s grin faltered, his fingers twitching as he quickly withdrew his hand from where he’d touched your arm. He looked between you and Logan, his smile turning nervous as he took in the hard line of Logan’s jaw, the clenched fists. Logan’s stance seemed to expand, filling the aisle. A faint, metallic snikt cut through the silence as Logan’s claws slid out just far enough to make his intentions crystal clear.

“I—uh,” the guy stammered, his eyes wide. “Didn’t mean any harm, man. Just… being friendly.”

“Then back off.” Logan’s gaze didn’t waver, his voice steady as steel. “Find someone else to be friendly with.”

The stranger held up his hands in a quick, defensive gesture, the color draining from his face. “Yeah, yeah. No problem,” he muttered, taking a step back. He turned and practically tripped over his own feet as he made his way down the aisle, disappearing around the corner without looking back.

As soon as he was gone, Logan’s posture softened. His claws retracted with a soft click, and he turned to you, his expression shifting from deadly to concerned. He brushed a gentle thumb over your shoulder where the stranger had touched you, his eyes scanning your face.

“You alright?” he asked quietly, his voice a low rumble of reassurance.

You felt a small, shaky smile tug at your lips as the tension slowly ebbed from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you murmured, your voice barely more than a breath, but laced with quiet relief.

Logan’s eyes softened, his mouth curving into that rare, gentle smile he saved just for you. He kept his hand on your shoulder, his thumb brushing slow, reassuring circles over your skin. “Can’t have anyone bothering my girl,” he said.

A soft laugh escaped you, and a gentle warmth bloomed in your chest, melting away the last of your unease. “I guess it was my fault…” you started, feeling a bit sheepish. “Maybe I should have just walked away.”

Logan’s face darkened, and he shook his head firmly. “No, sweetheart. Don’t go blaming yourself.” His eyes flicked toward the empty aisle where the stranger had disappeared, his jaw tightening as if the man were still standing there. “He put his hands on you…” His voice dipped into a dangerous growl, his hand clenching briefly at his side. “I should’ve cut off his damn arm.”

The words were half-joking, but his eyes flashed with something deadly serious. You could feel his protective fury simmering just below the surface, a fierce heat held in check only by his respect for you. It was a reminder of exactly who he was—the dangerous edge he kept hidden, for your sake.

You let out a small, nervous laugh. “Well, good thing you didn’t… cut off his arm,” you said, glancing up at him with a soft smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Logan’s gaze softened, his usual hardness melting into something warmer that seemed to wrap around you like a shield. Slowly, his hand traced down your arm, his fingers leaving a gentle warmth that lingered on your skin long after they passed.

“You’ll never have to find out, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a low, steady promise.

His words hung between you, carrying a weight that was both fierce and comforting as if he was making a vow he intended to keep with every fiber of his being. You felt a soft warmth bloom in your chest, and suddenly the world seemed a little smaller and safer, with him beside you.

You met his eyes, feeling your own shyness creeping in, but unable to look away. “Thank you, Logan,” you whispered, feeling the words fall short of what you really meant.

He just gave a small, knowing smile, as if he understood everything you couldn’t quite say. Then, with one last brush of his thumb along your arm, he pulled back, letting you return to your books, but not before giving you a final, reassuring nod that told you he’d be right there if you needed him.

[n0vazsq]

Way of the heart | OP81 x Reader

pairing . . . oscar piastri x racing!engineer!reader

summary . . . After a tough race, Oscar has nothing to look forward to more than spending time with (Y/n)

request . . . kind of?

word count . . . 1.1k

warnings . . . none!

alexavia yaps . . . i really hate this one for some reason like its not the best i could do but i wanted to write something so yeah!! the person who wanted this (im sorry i forgot your user), if you want another story i will totally write it!! tysm for asking <3

Oscar slumped into the chair in the back of the team garage, still in his racing suit, the helmet beside him on the floor. Today’s race had been brutal, everything going wrong until he finally crossed the finish line in a place he didn’t even want to remember. No matter how much he tried to forget it, the disappointment still clung to him.

As the crew packed up around him, you walked over, carrying a bottle of water and a quiet look of understanding. You’d worked with Oscar long enough to know when he needed a moment to think and when he needed someone to remind him he wasn’t alone. Today, he needed the latter.

“Rough day,” you said softly, offering him the bottle. He accepted it with a quick nod, cracking it open but not taking a sip.

“Understatement of the year,” he muttered, letting out a short, frustrated sigh. “Everything went wrong, didn’t it? Every call, every turn… feels like I let everyone down out there.”

You didn’t rush to disagree or to tell him it was all fine because you knew Oscar didn't want you to. Instead, you waited a bit, giving him the space to breathe.

“You know, racing’s a lot like life. Sometimes it’s out of our control, even when we do everything right. We all saw you fight today,” you said gently. “One tough race doesn’t define who you are as a driver.”

He glanced up, the frustration in his eyes softening as he met your steady gaze. “Thanks,” he said, managing a faint smile. “Not sure what I’d do without you, honestly.”

You laughed lightly, leaning against the wall beside him. “Lucky for you, I’m sticking around, win or lose.”

His smile widened a little, and after a few moments of quiet, he stood up, finally letting go of some of the weight he’d carried off the track. “Hey,” he said, glancing at his watch, “I know it’s late, but do you want to grab some food? Just… need to be somewhere that’s not here.”

The restaurant he picked was cozy, tucked away from the noise and chaos that followed you on racing weekends. He knew you’d love it, remembering how you mentioned your love for Italian food

When you walked in, his heart skipped a beat. You wore a smile that was both warm and teasing, the one that always seemed to make everything feel a little less overwhelming.

He stood, smiling sheepishly. “Hey, you look… great,” he said, his voice a little unsteady. The nerves of the race had melted away, replaced by a different kind of nervousness that he couldn’t ignore.

You grinned, taking a seat across from him. “Thanks, Piastri. It’s nice to see you in a non-race setting for once. And I have to say, you look pretty good.”

He laughed, glancing down at his simple outfit. “I tried, y’know, for you.”

The waiter took your orders, and as the evening went on, you two spoke about anything and everything but racing. The conversation drifted easily from favorite movies to random childhood memories. You two talked about wild stories and embarassing moments, laughing at every single thing.

But Oscar’s mind kept wandering back to you. How you’d been there every step of his career, how you’d seen him at his worst and still chose to believe in him. At one point, as you were laughing at a joke he’d told, he couldn’t help but stare a little, his heart pounding in a way that felt completely different from the adrenaline of racing.

The laughter quietened down, and a comfortable silence fell between you both. Oscar looked down at his hands, trying to think of what he wanted to say. “You know,” he began, a little quieter now, “you mean a lot to me. More than just… my engineer or friend.”

You looked up, your expression softening, and he felt his courage swell just a bit. “I think I realized that today, after everything went bad on the track. Just seeing you there, not judging me, not telling me what I should’ve done differently, just… being there. It made all the difference.”

You reached across the table, placing your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’d be there no matter what, Oscar. You’re a brilliant driver and a good person. Bad race or not, that doesn’t change.”

His cheeks flushed, a warmth spreading through him. He turned his hand to hold yours, letting the silence speak for itself. And for a moment, all the disappointment and frustration faded, replaced by a quiet joy that he hadn’t expected to feel tonight.

Later, you walked together under the night sky, the cool breeze a welcome contrast to the warm evening inside. He found himself wishing the walk could last forever, just the two of you, away from the chaos of everything.

Eventually, you both settled on a bench with a view of a beautiful fountain. The sound of the water filled the quiet spaces between you, and he reached over, slipping his hand into yours again, holding it with a confidence he hadn’t felt earlier.

“This feels perfect,” you murmured, leaning against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I wish every night could be like this.”

You let out a soft laugh, resting against him. “It’d be easier if we weren’t always at a race or in different cities every other week.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, looking out at the fountain. “But I think… I think it’s worth it.”

You turned to him, your gaze meeting his with a warmth that made his heart race. He took a deep breath, the words he’d been holding back finally finding their way out.

“Do you… maybe want to meet my family? Make it official?” he asked, his voice a little uncertain but hopeful.

You raised your eyebrows, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Oscar, I think we’re already there. You didn’t have to ask. And of course, I'd love to meet your family.”

He chuckled, feeling a weight lift as his heart swelled with happiness. “Then consider this official.” He leaned in, taking your lips in a kiss.

The kiss made butterflies fill your stomach, it was soft, but also made you crave more. It was something magical, like straight out of a movie. Oscar had his hands on your waist, and yours tangled in his hair. It somehow made it more intimate, more personal. You didn't want it to end.

When you finally pulled back, the smile on your face was everything Oscar ever wanted to see.

Hand in hand, you walked back to the car, and for the first time that night, Oscar felt a sense of peace, knowing that no matter what happened on the track, he’d always have you there, his biggest supporter, his steady presence.

And with you by his side, he knew he could face anything that came his way.

[sirenedeslily]

it’s late—so late, almost 3 a.m., and you’re both wrapped up in the stillness of a room where candlelight flickers shadows onto the walls. the low, warm glow casts an amber haze over everything, painting you both in soft, melted hues. outside, the world sleeps, leaving only the soft, steady hum of the record player filling the room, the quiet strum of guitar notes tracing through the silence like a whisper. the song is slow, thick with longing, and you feel it sinking into your bones, the way music sometimes does when the night is soft, and time stretches out like it’ll last forever.

matt’s sitting close, so close that you can see the delicate lines of ink woven across his arms, intricate designs that tell a thousand quiet stories. his tattoos blend into the soft shadows of his skin, his arm resting around your shoulders, fingers tracing light patterns down your back, almost absentmindedly, as though he can’t help but touch you. his hair’s messy, soft like he’s been running his hands through it all night. those blue eyes catch yours, and he smiles, just a little crookedly, like he’s been waiting for this moment all his life.

“you know,” he murmurs, voice low and gentle, a kind of reverence in it that you’ve only ever heard him use with you, “i could stay like this forever. just—us, right here.”

you can feel his breath, warm against your cheek, and his lips brush yours in a way that’s barely there, so light that it feels like he’s memorizing every tiny moment. he cups your face, his thumb tracing slow circles along your cheek as if you’re something precious, something he’d never want to let go of.

“you’re so perfect, you know that? like, how is it possible that i get to have you like this?”

his words are soft, sincere, threaded with that slight rasp in his voice that you adore. he keeps kissing you, slow and unhurried, like he’s got all the time in the world. each kiss feels like a promise—like he’s trying to tell you all the things he feels but can’t put into words. and you know him well enough to understand it; every kiss speaks volumes, a silent confession of all the love he holds in that heart of his.

between kisses, he pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, eyes half-lidded, the faintest smile on his lips. his fingers brush through your hair, and he chuckles, low and warm.

“god, i love this,” he whispers, voice barely audible, almost like he’s speaking to himself. “i love you.” his hand moves to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in, his lips finding yours again. it’s gentle, yet there’s something deep and unyielding behind it, a kind of desperation like he’s scared this might all be a dream.

the song shifts, the guitar fading into a soft, distant refrain, and for a second, you’re both quiet, breathing in sync as you hold each other. the world could be crumbling around you, but here, with matt, it feels like nothing else matters. the room’s filled with the scent of autumn—clove, cinnamon, a faint hint of something woody. he pulls you closer, his arm tight around your waist, his lips pressed against your temple.

“can i just…keep kissing you?” he whispers, almost like he’s asking permission, and you feel the smile pull at your lips.

“matt,” you say, and he leans back just enough to look at you, blue eyes catching the candlelight. “you don’t have to ask, honey.”

a smile breaks across his face, a bit bashful, and he shakes his head. “just—you don’t know what you do to me.” his fingers brush over your jaw, tracing every line, and he presses another lingering kiss to your lips, softer this time, more tender. you lose yourself in him, feeling his warmth, his steady heartbeat, and the way his touch seems to melt away everything else in the world.

as the song fades, the room slips into silence, and he just keeps holding you, keeps kissing you like you’re the only thing that matters. it’s simple, beautiful, and as you both sink into that quiet, you realize you don’t need anything else. just him, just this moment, and the way he makes you feel like forever might just be real.

𝒢𝜚 💭 ࣪ ✸ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ∿ lil comfort blurb, i love slow dance by clairo :p

❝ 𝟐𝟐𝟐 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @flouvela @eternaldecisions @elizabebabe @ncm9696

❝ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @l34n @sturniolossss @lovingregulusblack @cl1tlover3000 @mattslolita @mattssgf @le4hsblog @brvtall @mattscoquette @chratts-left-ball @jetaimevous @angelesqve @starlace111 @starkeyszn @etherealval @slut4chriss @star-yawnznn @nickmillersn1gf @sturnsmia @tastesousweet

© sirenedeslily

[reidmania]

slow it down | s.reid

summary; when life feels like its moving too fast and you feel like you're falling behind, spencer is there to slow it down.

warnings; i kind of feel like this is occ.. fem reader, established relationships, feeling like your falling behind in life, overwhelmed, insecurity, comforting wise spencer, i lowkey feel like this is kinda cringe but IDK.. self reflection

an; um.. so i am so sorry for neglecting you guys lately.

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, fingers tracing over a stack of old photos from years that somehow feel closer and farther away than they should. The soft morning light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room, but you can’t seem to feel it. It’s like you’re living in fast-forward, like everyone around you has figured out the secret to living, and you’re just scrambling to catch up. There’s a constant hum in the back of your mind, a quiet sense of urgency that keeps telling you, You’re falling behind.

And then there’s Spencer. Reliable, steady, intelligent Spencer, with his endless curiosity and his warm, steady gaze. Sometimes, you think he sees the world at a slower pace. He notices the way the trees change color in the fall, the way the clouds drift lazily across the sky, the way your breathing hitches when you’re overwhelmed. You’re not sure how he does it — how he lives in a world where time is patient, gentle even.

“Hey,” his voice breaks the quiet as he steps into the room, soft but firm, pulling you back to reality. “I noticed you didn’t sleep much last night.”

You give a small shrug, brushing the hair out of your face. “Just… thinking. That’s all.”

He sits beside you, close but not overwhelming, his presence grounding. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You’re not sure where to begin. There’s so much tangled up inside — the worry about where you’re going, the guilt of not doing enough, the fear that everyone else is moving forward while you’re stuck in place. It’s all too big, too heavy, and it clings to you like a second skin.

“Sometimes,” you say, staring down at your hands, “it feels like I’m watching everyone else live their lives at this… impossible speed. Like they’re running ahead, and I’m trying so hard to keep up, but I just… can’t.”

He watches you with that familiar look of quiet understanding, as though he’s absorbing every word. “I know it feels like that. But you’re doing more than you think, even if it doesn’t feel that way. Life isn’t a race, no matter what it seems like.”

You smile a little, but it’s strained. “Easy for you to say. You’re Dr. Spencer Reid. You’ve got three Ph.D’s.” It was unfair, you knew life wasn’t easy on him. He didn’t mind, he didn’t take offence at your insecurity.

His laugh is soft, a bit self-conscious. “It’s not always about how much you’ve done, you know. It’s about… what’s meaningful to you. And the world can feel fast because it’s busy and loud, but that doesn’t mean it’s moving faster than you can handle.”

You let his words sink in, wanting to believe them. He’s always been so good at that — seeing things in a way you can’t, finding meaning in moments you’d overlook. You think back to all those quiet mornings with him, sipping coffee while he reads, or the way he’ll point out little details in the most ordinary things. He lives with intention, like every second holds something worth noticing. “Teach me how to do that,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “How to… slow down, like you do.”

He shifts a little closer, his arm draping over your shoulders. “We can start now, if you’d like.”

“Here?” you ask, a little surprised.

“Why not?” He gives a small shrug, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your shoulder. “The world outside can wait a little. Right now, it’s just us.”

So, you close your eyes, focusing on the warmth of his hand, the even rhythm of his breathing beside you. He begins to talk, softly, almost to himself, about the small things that make up the moment — the softness of the sheets, the faint sound of birds outside, the warmth of the sunlight coming through the window. It’s strange, hearing him describe the world like this, like a piece of poetry instead of a rush of responsibilities. And slowly, something shifts within you. You’re not sure if it’s because of his voice or his hand on your shoulder, but the weight on your chest starts to ease.

“Sometimes,” he says, “I think we get caught up in thinking life has to be monumental, or it has to mean something big. But there’s value in the small moments too, even the ones where you feel like nothing is happening.”

You open your eyes and look at him. His gaze is soft, steady, like he’s known this all along but has been waiting for you to see it too. “You really believe that?”

“More than anything,” he nods, his hand slipping down to intertwine with yours. “And maybe if we slow down, even just a little, we can find that there’s more here than we thought.”

He suggests you both go for a walk. At first, you resist — it feels like there’s no time for that. But then you see the gentle insistence in his eyes, and you let yourself give in. Outside, the air is crisp, and the leaves are beginning to change, painting the trees in vibrant shades of red and gold. You wouldn’t have noticed it on your own, but Spencer points it out, marveling at the colors like it’s the first time he’s seen them.

The path winds through a quiet park, and he takes his time pointing out things you’d usually ignore: the sound of a squirrel rustling in the bushes, the faint smell of pine, the way the sunlight filters through the branches. You begin to feel your mind quiet, your worries slipping away as you take in each small moment.

“See?” he says, smiling as he catches you watching a butterfly flutter past. “The world doesn’t have to be rushing by. We just have to choose not to rush with it.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel yourself relax. You’re not falling behind. You’re not racing to catch up. You’re just here, in this moment, with Spencer beside you, and that’s enough.

After the walk, you both settle into a quiet cafe nearby. There’s no agenda, no rush, just the simple joy of being together. You sip your coffee slowly, tasting it in a way you usually don’t, letting each sip warm you from the inside. Across the table, Spencer is reading a book, but every now and then, he glances up, meeting your eyes with a quiet smile. It feels easy, natural, as though the world outside the cafe doesn’t even exist.

The afternoon stretches on, a lazy, unhurried thing, and you find yourself wishing that every day could be like this — free from the pressure to be something, to achieve something. Just… peaceful.

“I think I could get used to this,” you say, looking out the window, watching people stroll by without a care in the world.

“Then let’s make it a habit,” he replies softly, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “Slow days. Just us. Whenever you need it.”

“Really?” you ask, a little surprised. “Even with your job? With everything you have going on?”

He nods, his gaze steady. “Life doesn’t have to be all or nothing. I want to be there for you. To be here, with you. No matter what else is going on.”

For the first time, you feel a sense of calm settle over you, like maybe — just maybe — you don’t have to keep running to be enough. That there’s space in this world for you to slow down, to take things one step at a time. And knowing that Spencer is by your side makes it all feel possible, in a way it never has before.

You lean across the table, resting your head on his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent. “Thank you, Spencer. For… reminding me.”

He smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Always. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. I’m here, and we’ll figure it out together. One slow day at a time.

As you sit there, nestled against him, you let yourself believe that it’s true — that life doesn’t have to be a race, that you’re allowed to live at your own pace, to notice the small things, to savor each moment as it comes.

For the first time in a long time, you feel yourself slow down, the endless rush in your mind finally quieting. And in that silence, you find something you didn’t even realize you were missing: a sense of peace, of belonging, of knowing that right here, in this moment, you are exactly where you’re meant to be.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 48

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 45, part 46, part 47

Everyone forms a circle in Steve’s living room. Sitting crossed legged on the floor, waiting. Some people are missing, El wanted to stay with her dad, and Jonathan’s still avoiding Nancy at all costs. There’s a walkie in the center of the circle, open to the same channel. If El needed them, she could listen.

Steve, Robin, and Nancy are talking in the kitchen. Probably getting a little bit drunk. Coping in a way that they won’t let the rest of them. Trying to be the strong ones, when they don’t have to. Tonight’s going to be rough for all of them, they could break just once without consequence.

It’s almost time, Dustin goes to get them.

“Nance,” he hears Robin say, “he won’t come. He’s still pissed at you.”

“And me,” Steve adds.

A glass gets placed hard on the counter. “I don’t care. Before all of this, he was my friend.” He hears their steps move toward the front door and the rustle of keys. “We were there for each other when this started, we’re going to be there for each other as it ends.”

“But if he doesn’t want to talk to you,” Steve tries to reason.

“I don’t care.” There’s a slight waiver to Nancy’s voice. Dustin’s not sure he’s ever seen her cry over this. Seen any of them cry over this. “I don’t know how I can get through this without him, and I’m not going to find out.”

Dustin walks to the hall as the front door opens. Jonathan’s behind it, looking like he was in the middle of a debate with himself. He doesn’t look good. Eyes red rimmed and drooping. Clothes rumpled and looked like they were a few days old.

“Hey,” he says with a hollow voice.

“Hi,” Nancy responds.

He clears his throat. “I’m still pissed at you, but—” he trails off.

“I know.”

The clock on the wall ticks five minutes till nine. “Guys,” Dustin calls down the hall. “It’s almost time.”

Steve’s head nods, solemn. “Let’s go.”

Eddie’s there when they return to the living room, sitting on the floor. “Kids said I could join,” he says to Steve. Something unreadable in his eyes. “Is that ok?”

“Course it is,” Steve says as he sits next to Eddie. Closer than Dustin was expecting.

The circle closes and they join hands. Tangible proof that everyone is still here. Dustin is between Robin and Erica, with Steve just on the other side of Robin. Right there. Alive.

Right on cue, the fireworks start.

Dustin squeezes his eyes shut with the first boom. Sparks visualize in his mind. Red arms of flesh swinging at him. He takes the fireworks and throws it. They win, but at what cost.

Erica tightens her grip on his hand. He squeezes back to show her he’s alive.

“Steve,” Robin whispers.

“Still alive,” he responds. Voice wet.

Dustin feels her shift closer to him.

He forces his eyes open, forces the visions to stop. Those of the group who have their eyes open meet his gaze. All of them in a state of fear or grief. They are all in this together. The fireworks continue to boom.

Nancy keeps looking over to Mike to make sure he’s there. Before nodding at each of them, counting heads. Jonathan’s legs are pulled up to his chest. Will keeps flinching his one arm, ready to feel the eeriness creep at his neck. Lucas moved his arm around Erica’s shoulders, holding her close.

He looks at all of them and knows that he isn’t alone. He isn’t alone in his pain, or his wishing things could be different. As Mike and Nancy look at each other again, he knows they spend so much time wishing the other wasn’t a part of this. As Max can’t hold in her cries anymore, he knows that Lucas wishes he never told her about the upside down that day.

As Steve mutters out a quiet, “I work at Scoops,” Dustin wishes he never dragged him into this.

But the past can’t change. It’s already been written. Dustin can hope and wish and pray that things played out differently. He can blame himself for the rest of his life, but it won’t change anything. Because their paths would have always converged in the same way. Always leading them here.

The radio crackles in the center of the circle, El’s voice comes through. “Almost over.”

He knows that he’ll always probably blame himself. That he will always wish that things were different. That he’ll wish the nightmares were normal ones about his teeth falling out in class or forgetting he had a test. He’ll wish that time was different, that his life never had to change like this. But maybe he can make peace with the fact that it will never change.

Maybe he can make peace that these people don’t blame him for this. They’ll wish the same as him, that they never got involved, but it was inevitable. That night when Will went missing, it changed the paths for everyone in this room. Choices were made that can’t be taken back, and they’ll regret some of them for the rest of their lives.

But, with each other, they can move forward from this as one and finally heal. The last fight has been fought. Been won. As the time moves forward, so can they. Together.

“Brace yourselves,” Dustin whispers, knowing what the big finale is like. They all wait for it to end.

He used to love fireworks. Would beg his mom to bring him to the fair every year just so he could see him. And when he was old enough, he would bike there with the party and just stand there in awe. The perfect mix of science, his greatest love, making art in the sky.

As the last boom of the night rings through the air, Dustin hopes he can enjoy it again someday. He promises himself that one day, he will.

No one moves for a few minutes after they end. Sitting still to calm the beatings of their hearts. They made it through.

Almost in synchrony, they all start to move. Standing up, wiping the tears from their eyes. Returning to normal. Finding themselves again.

“Steve?” Eddie asks softly after Steve doesn’t move. Sitting there rigid.

He nods. “I’m ok.” He straightens his back, revealing the wet trail of tears down his cheeks. “You ready?” he asks Robin.

“Yeah.”

She gets up first, holding out her hand for him. They go in two different directions. Robin getting a bag from the hallway, while Steve grabs a bottle of alcohol from the cabinet and a box of matches.

Dustin follows them as they go outside. “What are you guys doing?”

Steve places the bottle of alcohol, what looks like expensive tequila, next to the fire pit. “After that night, we made a pact. A year from then, we burn our uniforms.”

“To prove that we made it out,” Robin continues, her voice sounding dry. “To prove that we never have to go back.”

She hands Steve the bag and he dumps the uniforms into the fire pit. The blood and sweat soaked uniforms ready to be set ablaze.

Steve unscrews the tequila and pours it over them, wasting more than he probably should.

“You want to do the honors,” he asks Robin, handing her the box of matches.

She takes it with shaky hands, striking the match and tossing it into the pit. The fire starts instantly.

Robin sobs as she falls into Steve. His cries are silent as he wraps her in a hug. Holding each other as they watch the outfit from the worst night of their lives burn to ash. Dustin walks back inside, letting them have this moment to themselves.

Eddie is watching from the sliding doors. “What are they burning?”

“Their Scoops uniforms, they were wearing them when it all went down.”

Nancy walks up to the door. “I never knew what happened to them that night, every time I try to ask, they avoid answering it.”

She looks at Dustin for answers he doesn’t even know the whole of. “I think they were tortured. When we went into that bunker, we got separated. They held the door closed so me and Erica could escape into the vent. After we rescued them, Steve’s face was beaten up and they were tied to chairs, and drugged. I never got any confirmation, but I knew.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie breathes out. Still staring out the glass. His arms held close to his chest.

“Do you remember their faces when we went into that vent,” Erica asks from behind them. “They were scared, but they still chose to save us.”

Dustin turns, seeing the group that had formed behind him. All watching the fire outside. He nods. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget.”

“There are so many things from that night that I won’t forget,” Max speaks up.

“There are so many things from the last four years that I won’t forget,” Mike adds.

Will reaches to grab his hand. “Yeah.”

“We should go back to the living room,” Nancy says. “So we’re not just staring at them.”

Eddie is the last to leave the room, still staring at them through the door.

“He’s been acting weird all week," he explains as Dustin hangs back. “I knew it had to be something bad, I just didn’t imagine that.”

“No one wants to imagine half the things that we’ve been through.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

They rejoin the group in the living room. Jonathan grabs his keys and fills his car with the people who want to go home. Him and Nancy talking before he leaves. She hangs around, making sure everyone left is taken care of.

Eddie just sits on the couch, looking out of place. But he’s waiting for something, Dustin can tell.

“Hey,” Mike nudges Dustin’s shoulder. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re going over to my house for the night. Just in case you didn’t want to go home.”

Dustin thinks about it. He was going to see if he could stay the night here. Be close to Steve. But he might be ok. And by not being here, Steve could worry about just himself for a night. Not Dustin as well.

“Yeah,” he says. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Eventually, Steve and Robin come back inside. Robin nods at Nancy before climbing the stairs up to Steve’s room. Steve and Eddie share a look when they pass. He stops and places a hand on Dustin’s shoulder, pulling him into a hug, before following Robin up the stairs.

Before Eddie can get to his room, Dustin stops him. “I’m going over to Mike’s, call me if anything happens.”

Eddie nods. “I got them, don’t worry.”

“Thank you.”

Nancy waits by the door. Mike, Lucas, and Dustin follow her out to the car. They drive to the house is quiet. Everyone is still reeling from tonight.

Jonathan’s car is parked out on the street when they get there. Will, Max, and Erica coming out with their bags.

“You could stay too, you know,” Nancy says to Jonathan. “No one should be alone tonight.”

“I thought about it, but I think it’s better if I go home.”

Nancy nods, accepting.

“See you around, Nance,” he says before getting back in his car.

“You could stay in the basement with us,” Mike offers, “if you need to.”

Nancy nods again, blinking away the tears in her eyes. Following them inside.

The basement floor is covered in blankets and pillows. Everyone finding a spot to lie down comfortably. Dustin stares at the ceiling, waiting for the tired fall of his eyes. So he can wake up tomorrow and feel better. Feel less like pure dread.

Slowly, he can hear the people around him start to fall asleep. Tomorrow will be better than today, he repeats in his mind. Peaceful sleep taking over.

the notes you guys left on my last post literally made my day, you have no idea. hugs for all of you.

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[desertduality]

Trustfall

Ao3

Just a little thing I wrote to explore the Jimmy and Scar dynamic. Set loosely after session two. Enjoy! <3

Night comes, and Scar can't hide from his feelings anymore. They catch up to him - like everything does, eventually. Scar can never run fast enough.

He's on another mountain, this one green and pink and bright, bordered by tall shoots of bamboo and topped with cherry blossom trees, decorated with growing wheat fields and pens that - sometimes - house sheep and cows. It's all so... alive. So beautiful. So fragile.

The beauty of it is not the surprising part. It's not even that he spent the better part of the day eating dirt or leaves or shovels. No, the strangest thing on the mountain is the people. The strangest thing about them is that they're there at all. With Scar. On purpose.

He can't quite figure it out. The why of it. Jimmy had made it look so easy to say he would stay, like he couldn't think of a million reasons not to. And then Lizzie, who he had invited, and then still been surprised to see her there when he got back. They do it without obligation. Scar had almost forgotten what that felt like.

Neither of them are tethered to him by fate or bound by an oath. They're just there, bright and silly and constant. He'd had something close to it, once, with the allies he'd jokingly called his family, but that had been... messy.

Jimmy and Lizzie make caring about him feel like something simple.

Tell me about your theme park idea, Lizzie had said, and he had. He'd braced himself for- for something. For dismissal. For a roll of the eyes.

A good theme park has three things. Lizzie had mused instead. We need rides, decorations, and a mascot. I think one of us here has real mascot energy.

Jimmy's face had lit up. Lizzie had built three birds at the entrance to their base, standing proudly. Scar stares at them now, shadowy figures in the dark. They're a team. And as much as Lizzie jokes and groans about what a handful the two of them are, they're still equals. They understand each other. Lizzie knows what it's like to be alone, overlooked. Jimmy knows what it's like to be seen as a burden, a joke.

Somehow, despite everything, they trust each other. It's terrifying.

"Stargazing?"

Scar jumps at the voice, a quiet yelp escaping his throat before he can stop it. He twists his torso to look, a jerky motion, and lays eyes on Jimmy, who seems a bit apologetic. "Ah, sorry-"

"Geez, Jimmy, oh my god," Scar says through wheezing breaths, hand pressed to his chest. "This is the life series, man, you can't sneak up on- on a man in thought!"

"Right, sorry, sorry," Jimmy continues, laughing a little bit. "Thought you heard me walk over."

Jimmy sits down next to him, clothes rumpled from bed. It's quiet, fireflies blinking and crickets chirping in the distance. The moon is nearly full, high in the sky. It's early enough in the game that a full nights sleep is still an option. And yet-

"Couldn't sleep?" Jimmy asks, tone light but genuine.

"Oh, you know," Scar says, humming. "Stomach ache. Dirt doesn't agree with me. Who knew?"

"Yeah, glad that one's over." Jimmy stretches his legs out in front of him. "Think I chipped a tooth. I'm billing Grian."

Scar laughs quietly, mindful of Lizzie snoring just a few yards away. That's another thing he's not quite used to: sleeping with others nearby. It's comforting. He's afraid he'll get used to it.

They sit in silence for a while, comfortable and secure. Their frankly absurd amount of bamboo rustles in the gentle wind, cherry blossom petals perpetually raining down around them. It's the kind of perfect peace that has Scar waiting on the other shoe to drop.

"...What was winning like?" Jimmy asks eventually, voice soft.

"...I don't know," Scar says. "It didn't really feel like winning. It was kind of just, like. Sad."

"Sad?"

"Yeah." Scar sighs, leaning back to look at the stars. "I thought it might make me feel better, to just- to prove that I could."

Jimmy hums like he's really listening, like he understands, and Scar... Something settles. Something that has been flinching for a very long time goes still.

"I was tired of being alone," he admits. "Still am. I end up that way a lot."

"Not this time," Jimmy says, a lopsided smile on his face. "Not on my watch."

He places a comforting hand on Scar's shoulder. Grounding. Real.

Oh, Scar thinks. This is what it's like to have something to lose.

"You sure it's not too early to say that?" Scar asks, half teasing. "You might be running for the hills a week from now. I'm not- I'm not an easy teammate."

"Hey, me neither, pal." Jimmy nudges him, smile a bit jagged at the edges. "I'm known for dying early. I've got issues with longevity."

"They make medicine for that."

"Wh- Scar!"

Scar doubles over, wheezing uncontrollably. Jimmy follows helplessly, in a way that almost sounds painful. It continues for a while, until Lizzie makes a small noise in her sleep, and the two of them choke back their laughter to something manageable, tapering back into silence. Scar feels... happy. He feels happy. It's...

"How about you?" Scar asks. "Anything you want to get off your chest? Just between us. And the giant parrot statues."

"Ehh, I don't know," Jimmy says playfully, eying the parrots suspiciously. "I don't know if I trust 'em."

"And me?"

"You?" Jimmy glances sideways at him, eyes light and honest. "Of course. We're the Bam Boys."

Trust is something that Scar had thought he'd killed a long time ago. Jimmy offers it anyway. It's like a lighthouse in a storm. The sun to a flower. Water in a desert.

Trust. Just this once, Scar vows not to break it.

"So," Scar says, like nothing just happened. "Anything?"

Jimmy exhales shakily, looking away, down at his hands. There's dirt under his fingernails. Scar waits.

"I don't want to die first," Jimmy says, a faint tone of embarrassment in his voice. "I know it's like, a thing, but I really..."

Canary, they call him. A creature whose purpose is to die.

Scar knows a thing or two about unwanted titles. He sometimes feels like the role of Villain is still branded onto his skin, with the way some people look at him.

I don't want to die, cries the Canary, but the miner only pays attention when the singing stops.

"You won't," Scar says, as close to a promise as he can get. "Not this time. Not on my watch."

Jimmy grins crookedly, something relieved at the corners of his eyes. "That right?"

"That's right."

They go back to bed.

[unicyclehippo]

Prompt: stumble

ok following on from the other one (regret)

//

a four-man band, all drums, had taken up residence inside her skull and her mouth tasted bad. really bad. something-crawled-in-there-and-died bad. licked-a-new-york-alleyway-floor bad.

kate groaned. lifted a hand to rub her gritty eyes and smacked herself in the face.

it stung. not the smack—well, okay, that stung a little—but the sluggishness of her body. it felt…

bad, her brain supplied, too hungover to go looking for a better word.

one of the band members started grinding coffee in her coffee machine, the noise like a drill in her ear, and—wait.

kate threw herself out of bed—don’t puke, bishop, hold it together, you got this babe—and grabbed up the closest weapon. she swung out of her bedroom and down the stairs to the landing with only a single stumble, readying to throw, when the blurry world resolved itself to blonde hair and a green coat.

‘uh,’ kate said, like a genius.

yelena turned and threw her an unimpressed look. ‘you did not even have bread, kate bishop.’

kate gulped. ‘what - how -‘

‘are you going to attack me after our girls night? with… what is that?’

kate glanced down at her chosen weapon. ‘it’s, um, a pet rock.’

‘pet rock,’ yelena repeated. ‘does it have a name?’

‘no.’

‘no? come now, kate bishop, we had so much fun. why do you lie to me? what is the name of your pet rock?’ she eyed kate knowingly. ‘it is like pizza dog, yes? tell me it is not rocky.’

kate scoffed. ‘of course not. it’s…’ her head gave an almighty throb. kate sighed. ‘yeah, fine, okay it’s rocky.’

‘kate, kate, kate,’ yelena tutted. ‘you are not so good with the names. it’s okay,’ she added, surprisingly nice, ‘you are good at other things.’

‘really? i mean, yeah, of course. um. but if you had to say what those things were…’

yelena only looked at her with a funny little smile and turned back to the coffee.

kate rubbed her eyes hard. curse her hangover! how was she supposed to keep up with a black widow if she couldn’t even get her eyes to focus up? okay. this called for a tactical retreat.

kate scurried back to her bedroom. she put rocky back on his toothpick chair and changed quickly—and definitely did not blush when she realised that yelena, who looked like she’d stepped fresh out of a catalogue, had seen her in a tank and boxers. she splashed water in her face and brushed her teeth, gargling mouthwash when toothpaste alone didn’t fix the disgusting taste in her mouth, and hurried back downstairs.

yelena was still there.

kate didn’t know why she was surprised but part of her thought that the other girl might have vanished in those two minutes. she was so pretty and mysterious and quiet that kate’s brain was having a hard time believing she was real and really in her scorched apartment. she hovered at the bottom of the stairs, watching yelena help herself to milk and mugs and anything else in her pantry and fiddled with the metal aglet on her tracksuit string.

‘coffee?’

‘um. sure. no—‘

‘cream or sugar. i know.’

‘…right. you were stalking me,’ kate muttered, more a reminder to herself than upset. ‘and you haven’t poisoned it? drugged it?’

yelena feigned offence. ‘why do you keep saying such things to me?’

keep saying? kate frowned.

it took a painful minute for her brain to dredge up memories of last night. right. the bar, grimy and grim. yelena, a bottle of vodka. watchful green eyes. the rest of the night was…hazy. kate itched all over.

what had happened last night? what had she said? done? her eyes dropped to yelena’s lips, folded in thought as she drizzled hot sauce across her plates, then further down. green coat and underneath, not yelena’s cool style at all (but of course she still pulled it off), a faded camp tee.

‘is that my shirt?’ kate asked, tone strangled. yelena nodded. ‘okay. um. why? what did—‘ she bit down on her tongue hard, forced a smile when yelena glanced up at her weird tone. ‘cool. that’s cool.’

she couldn’t just ask what happened. yelena would lie, because she could or because she thought it funny or because a girl like that came with a limited number of favours and kate had to have used them all up by now what with the not being killed and the information about—

‘you are panicking.’

‘no i’m not,’ kate snapped.

‘oh, my mistake. you are not panicking when you breathe very fast and your eyes go all—‘ yelena mimicked her, eyes wide and flicking all over the place. she laughed, then, shook her head. ‘yes, that is normal for you. sit, sit. drink your not poisoned coffee—‘

‘not reassuring.’

‘—and relax, kate bishop.’

sure. sure. breakfast with the…not enemy, maybe, but not really a friend.

kate sat gracelessly. her body hurt too much for grace. but the joke was on her because it actually turned out that if your body already hurt and then you slumped into a chair like a sack of forks, it hurt even more. even yelena winced when kate groaned and put a hand to her ribs.

‘drink. eat. this will fix you.’

she shoved a bowl across the table, a big bowl of cafe perfect scrambled eggs.

‘is that…chorizo crumbs? and scallions?’ the hot sauce went without mention. ‘where did you even get this stuff?’

‘it is new york. new york has everything.’ she shrugged. ‘i found a deli.’

‘that place down the block? pickles?’ yelena only shrugged again. ‘okay, i know you’re like, secretive or whatever but there’s gotta be a difference between mission stuff and where you went shopping.’ now yelena was fucking with her, kate knew, because she smirked and shrugged again. ‘whatever.’

she dug her fork into the eggs. light, beautifully cooked. hot. kate sucked in a noisy breath around her mouthful. she gasped and gulped and swallowed it down, still a bit too hot, and shovelled in another forkful when yelena smiled smugly at her. ow. hot.

‘it’s good,’ kate said when she’d finished half the bowl. good was honestly a major understatement but yelena already looked too smug.

‘i know. you are done? my turn.’

‘yeah, yeah, just lemme wash the fork, hold on.’ kate levered herself up—fuck her ribs fuck her back fuck that one weird spot on her knee she couldn’t even remember what did that—and hobbled to the sink. she washed it, and filled a glass for herself of water. ‘you want one?’ kate asked, glancing over her shoulder.

yelena was watching her. she nodded slowly.

kate hobbled back, two glasses and a clean fork in hand.

‘thank you.’

‘don’t mention it.’

kate sat more gingerly this time and, as yelena ate, found a way to sit that didn’t aggravate her aches and pains. much. her thoughts drifted—yelena, mom, kingpin throwing her around the room again and again, her mom sitting in a room with the guy, so comfortable, so familiar, a bruising hand around her throat, her shoulders. an empty room.

the eggs churned in her gut.

‘what happened last night?’ kate asked softly.

yelena talked with her mouth full. it was weirdly endearing. it was a relief when kate’s brain lingered on that, on yelena, rather than…everything else. she had a little bruise on her cheek. not from the slap, kate hoped. probably from something else kate had thrown at her.

‘well, let’s see, there was a gala and i hunted down clint barton. you got in my way. again.’

‘no, i know, i remember that. i mean, at the bar.’

‘ah.’ yelena dragged the tines of the fork between her lips. ‘i brought vodka. we drank.’

‘and came back here.’

‘yes.’ with a mocking smile, yelena asked, ‘what are you afraid of, kate bishop?’

kate’s teeth clenched tight. her jaw ached. her neck ached. she couldn’t just ask—but yelena already had the upper hand like forty times over. she relaxed and, impressively casually, said,

‘i don’t drink much. just wondered what i did. if i did anything stupid.’ she sent yelena a lopsided smile. ‘i mean, it’s me so, probably. right?’

yelena didn’t smile. face brutally blank, eyes brutally bright, she said,

‘you talked, kate bishop. quite a lot. and vomited on my shirt. i have taken the cost of it from your bank account. i took new shirt and slept on the couch. happy?’

‘mortified. sorry. or, i mean, thanks. you didn’t have to stay.’

stupid thing to say. yelena knew that already and it wasn’t like the assassin could be forced to do anything. kate’s skin itched. she felt hot all over.

‘it was a good night for me,’ yelena said after a moment.

kate blinked. brightened. ‘really?’

‘yes. you gave me clint barton’s number.’

‘fuck.’

yelena chuckled, the sound rich and low. ‘don’t worry, kate bishop, i will not kill him. we…talked.’

was it just kate, or did yelena look surprised? the expression vanished faster than kate could compute, fast enough that she doubted she’d even seen it.

yelena continued smoothly, pulling kate’s phone from her coat pocket.

‘he has been messaging you. he will be here any minute to collect you.’

‘wait - what?’

kate lunged for the phone, hungrily reading clint’s messages. he was a man of few words which, fine, kate could get used to that but more likely she’d badger him into using more words and messaging way more often.

(10:52) MY WIFE HAS INVITED YOU TO BARTON XMAS. PICK YOU UP TMRW.

(11:03) ARE YOU ALIVE

(07:40) IM COMING OVER. BE THERE IN 20

(07:42) YOU BETTER NOT BE DEAD, KATE.

kate glanced at the clock. 7:56.

‘oh my god, he’ll be here any minute. why didn’t you tell me!’

yelena scrunched up her nose and gestured to her phone like, there, i just did.

‘no but - and i have to pack and i smell like a bar rag -‘

‘much worse than that.’

‘thanks,’ kate hissed.

‘finally. manners. you are welcome, kate bishop, for getting you home safe and making breakfast.’

she said it extremely pointedly but that wasn’t unfair. it was very fair, actually. k

kate sunk down in her seat.

‘thanks. really. i…for getting me home. and for staying. this morning would have sucked if—just. thanks.’ kate swallowed all the extra words that pooled on her tongue.

yelena shrugged. stood sharply and carried her mug and bowl to the sink. she washed and dried them before kate could wrangle herself to say she didn’t have to do it, and leaned her hip against the sink, patting her hands dry. her assassin cuff things glinted under the kitchen light.

‘you’re leaving.’

yelena raised her brows. ‘i have no desire to see clint barton.’ the syllables of his name were crunched flat between her teeth.

‘oh. right. yeah, i mean, that makes sense. i get it.’ she did not get it, yelena’s chilly look said. ‘will i see you again?’

‘…perhaps.’

‘cool. i want that shirt back.’

//

clint buzzed the door when he arrived. he must have gotten caught in traffic because kate had enough time for a proper shower and to finish the coffee yelena made for her.

it was irritatingly good coffee.

‘hey—‘

‘yelena has your phone number,’ kate blurted. ‘i didn’t give it to her. i mean, she got it from me but it was an accident.’

clint narrowed his eyes. ‘she got you drunk.’

‘what?’ the word stretched out very long and very convincing. clint raised a brow. ‘maybe. fine, yes.’

he just sighed, scrubbed a hand over his short hair. ‘and that’s all she got?’

kate blinked. and swore. as clint drove them out of the city, she went through her phone and logged out of everything important—bank, bishop security—and made a note to change her passwords.

there was a new number in her contacts. no name, just a string of digits.

(08:16) no way that shirt cost 400 bucks

(08:16) more. i gave you friend discount, kate bishop.

despite herself, despite everything weighing heavy on her shoulders, despite her head full of her mothers sharp eyes and words, despite clint eyeing her curiously from the drivers seat, kate laughed.

[salemrph]

Beneath the Moonlit Altar (Ep. 1) Sylus x MC

Summary: Captain Jenna call out a meeting. There is new intel to the Onychinus's Leader. A picture and maybe a weak spot that the Hunter Association could use to bring him down. You find yourself at the crossroads between following your duty or following your heart to protect him.

Character: MC x Sylus

Genre: mysterious, danger, romance | Pet names : Kitten, Sweetie, Sweetheart

Warnings/Additional Tags: f!reader

| Word count: 3,379 | Reading Time: 13 min |

A/N: New in fanfic. I hope you enjoy it!

He follows you into the shower, the hot water running down your bodies as he presses you against the wall. His hands are everywhere, touching and caressing, his mouth seeking yours in a desperate, passionate kiss. He's in full devil mode now, all restraint and control abandoned in favor of pure, unbridled desire.

He bites down onto your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin in a possessive, rough way. His body is pressed against yours, pinning you against the wall as his lips find your earlobe, his breath ragged and hot against your ear. "You're mine," he growls, his voice a low, rough rumble. "And I'm going to make sure you remember that."

"Go easy... I'm still overstimulated from the first round"

He continues his assault on your neck and collarbone, his lips and teeth exploring every inch of skin within reach. His hands are caressing your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh firmly but not painfully. He's being a bit more gentle than before, but there's still a possessive, dominant edge to his touches.

We melt into another round in the bathroom. When we're finished, I collapse onto the bed, a towel wrapped around me. Sylus is getting dressed in his usual black clothes.

"Are you going somewhere?" I ask, watching him as he adjusts his outfit.

He glances over at me, his expression a mix of regret and resignation. "Yeah," he says, his voice a little strained. "I have a few things to take care of. Business stuff. I won’t be gone long, though."

"Stay safe."

He softens at your concern, a small smile curving the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry about me," he says, his voice gentler now. "I can take care of myself. Just relax and get some rest, alright? I'll be back before you know it."

You slip into your nightshirt and panties, then get up to help Sylus finish buttoning his shirt. A small, affectionate smile plays on his lips. As you finish the last button, he reaches out, gently pulling you closer to him and wrapping his arms around your waist.

He rests his chin on the top of your head, his eyes closing for a moment as he holds you close. "I hate leaving you," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "Especially right after... that shower."

"Well, Onychinus's leader needs to show up for a few things..." you reply, trying to lighten the mood.

He sighs heavily, his arms tightening around you for a brief moment before he reluctantly pulls away. "Duty calls," he mutters, pulling his phone from his pocket and checking the caller ID.

His expression darkens slightly as he frowns at the name on the screen. "I have to take this," he says, his voice tight with irritation. "I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?" He kissed you.

Without waiting for a response, he answers the call, stepping out of the room. His voice is low and tense as he begins talking, and the door clicks shut behind him, leaving you alone in the quiet of the bedroom.

You lie back in the bed, the sheets still slightly rumpled from earlier. Despite the lingering exhaustion from his... enthusiasm, you can't help but feel a sense of warmth and contentment at the thought of being with him.

You eventually drift off to sleep, but the shrill sound of your Hunter watch jolts you awake. The clock on the nightstand reads 3:31 a.m. Sylus still isn't back.

The screen flashes with an incoming call—it’s from Hunter HQ.

"Sorry to wake you," your captain's voice crackles through the line, clear but urgent.

"What’s going on?" you murmur, rubbing sleep from your eyes, your voice still heavy with exhaustion.

Jenna’s tone is all business. "We’ve got a situation. We need you in ASAP."

You sit up in bed, instantly alert. "Got it, I’m there in 15 minutes."

"Good. Don’t waste time," the captain replies. "See you in the briefing room."

The adrenaline surges as you spring into action, quickly slipping out of your sleepwear and into your Hunter uniform. The fabric is familiar and comforting, the weight of your weapons and equipment an extension of yourself.

You grab your keys and helmet, stepping into the cold night air. The city is eerily quiet at this hour, the streets mostly deserted except for a few people drifting home from late shifts or nights out.

You reach your bike quickly. The familiar buzz of anticipation fills you as you start the engine, ready for whatever the situation calls for. The city lights blur past as you speed towards HQ, your focus sharp and clear, every muscle awake with the rush of adrenaline.

The entrance to the building looms ahead. You step off your bike, your boots making steady echoes as you cross the lobby, where the quiet hum of machinery is the only noise in the stillness.

You present your ID badge at the security desk, and the guard nods in acknowledgement before allowing you through the security gate. You move quickly through the corridor toward the briefing room, your heart pounding a little faster in anticipation of what awaits.

As you step into the briefing room, you find it already filled with your fellow hunters and the mission leader. They all look up, their expressions serious and expectant.

The mission leader, a tall, stern hunter named Ramirez, meets your gaze as you enter. "Glad you could make it. We need to get started. Take a seat."

The room settles as you join the others, and Captain Jenna stands up, preparing to address the team.

"Now that we’re all here, we can begin."

You glance around. The usual faces are present, but Xavier is noticeably absent. Nero and Tera are both here, their expressions focused as they listen intently.

Captain Jenna continues, her tone businesslike. "We've picked up some disturbing rumours circulating on the dark web about our most wanted target—the leader of Onychinus. There's been chatter about a woman who's been seen around him recently. Some threads suggest she might be his lover."

The room goes quiet as the weight of the information settles over everyone.

Your heart stops. Fuck. Have they caught us?

"We also have a picture."

A blurry image flashes on the wall. You see Sylus's profile, wearing sunglasses. And next to him—you. They only caught your back, thank God. Your face isn't visible. You're relieved you wore the outfit Sylus selected for you that day, not your usual clothes. But still... fuck.

Your body goes rigid. You're so tense, you feel like you’re suffocating. You can barely breathe. Captain Jenna’s gaze shifts toward you.

"Y/N, you spent time in the N109 Zone, and you've seen him. Can you confirm that this person is Sylus?"

The room feels like it’s closing in around you. You need to think fast. You can't show hesitation, but if you say yes, it will make everything worse. It will make you a target. Sooner or later, the truth will come out, and the consequences will follow. But if you say no... you’ll be betraying everything you’ve worked for at the Hunter Association. Your lies will unravel.

You take a deep breath, forcing your expression to stay serious, neutral.

The weight of the decision sits heavily on your chest.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "Yes… That could be Sylus. The picture is a bit too blurry, but I'm about 90% sure," you say, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you.

Captain Jenna nods, then turns her focus to the next question. "Have you seen the girl?"

You shake your head. "No. He sure as hell wouldn't share something like that with me as his hostage," you add, attempting to inject some humor into the situation.

Jenna doesn’t crack a smile. "Right… At least we have a picture of him now. That'll make things a bit easier. Nero, see if you can enhance this picture. I need a clear view."

Nero nods, already on his computer, working on the image.

"Perfect. Now, Y/N, we need you to get closer to him," Jenna says, her voice firm. "I know it’s been hard, but this could be our chance to take him down."

You nod, but your stomach twists painfully. This is bad—really bad. You never expected things would escalate this quickly. If you’re being honest with yourself, you didn’t think it would ever come to this. You wanted to keep living in the bubble of that dream with Sylus. But now… it feels like you’re being pulled into something much darker than you ever anticipated. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The meeting continues, more tasks being handed out, but your mind is spinning. Your ears are ringing. You're barely hearing anything as the weight of the decision presses down on you. What the hell are you doing?

Tera places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently. You can feel her presence next to you, a small anchor in the storm of thoughts swirling in your head.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice soft, yet filled with concern.

"Yes... Yes... I..." You exhale slowly, but your breath feels heavier than ever. The tightness in your chest won't release, and your mind is still racing.

"Capitan..." Tera speaks up again, her voice cutting through your thoughts. "I think Y/N needs a moment to recover."

Jenna nods, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Okay, everyone. You have your tasks. Meeting is over."

One by one, your teammates file out of the room. The door clicks shut behind them, and you're left alone with your thoughts. But then Jenna approaches you, her tone more sympathetic than usual.

"I knew this could distress you. And I'm asking a lot from you, going back to the N109 Zone. If you need anything, let me know," she says, her voice softer than you'd expect from a commanding officer.

She turns and leaves, and Tera stays by your side, her comforting presence a small reprieve in the chaos.

"It's late. Let's go home and get some rest, okay?" Tera says, worry lacing her words.

"Yeah," you respond quietly, feeling your exhaustion catch up with you.

You make your way to your bike, helmet in hand, the cold night air biting at your skin. You pull out your phone and, almost instinctively, type a message to Sylus.

They now about us.

A short message. You wait for a moment.

Meet me here. Now.

He sent you a location on the map. You didn’t waste any time. Putting your helmet on, you started your bike.

You drove for a while out of the city, heading north. On the map, there’s nothing—just a spot in the forest. The night is clear, and the moon is out. It’s 5:11 a.m.

Your mind is racing, full of anger, desperation, and anxiety. How will you fix this? Can you even fix it? Is there a solution? You shake your head, trying to forget those thoughts. Your chest aches, and the weight of responsibility crushes your body.

You leave your bike on the side road, a bit hidden, just to be sure no one followed you.

You walk the path in the dark, lit only by the moonlight.

After walking for a while in the cold night, you come across a small, old shrine. Fox statues stand guard, their hard shadows making them look more terrifying. You approach an inscription, pulling out a tiny flashlight from your side bag to read the text.

A shrine for lovers seeking protection for their love. Sylus doesn’t believe in such things. But still, this is the location he sent you.

You close your eyes and pray to the spirits of the shrine. A prayer to protect your love with Sylus, no matter the cost.

A slight crunching sound makes you draw your gun, aiming toward where the noise came from. A shadow of something black moves, and fear shoots through you as your finger hovers over the trigger. Sylus raises his hand and steps closer to you.

“Haven’t we passed this point in our relationship, sweetie?” Sylus says, his voice calm but amused.

“Fuck...! Don’t do that again,” you snap, lowering the weapon slowly and putting it back into its holster.

“I must say, your reflexes have improved,” he smiles, stepping forward to hug you.

You close your eyes, resting your head against his chest. The stillness of the forest surrounds you, but it only seems to make your body more tense.

“They know...” you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. He doesn’t respond, only holding you tighter. “Sylus…”

You look up to meet his gaze, his beautiful eyes searching yours. He gently caresses your cheek, and you try to read what’s going through his mind.

“They have a picture of us... I...” You pause, struggling to find the right words. “I had to tell them it was you in the picture.”

“Don’t worry,” he reassures you softly, his thumb tracing your skin. “Actually, I expected you’d do that. I’ve seen the picture. Luke and Kieran are taking care of it.”

You don’t want to know what they’ll do.

“Did you know this was going to happen?” The memory of the phone call before he left the penthouse lingers. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t,” he admits, his voice quiet. “It was a possibility. I got the information too late. The person who messed up... well, they paid the price.”

“What~?” Sylus gently lifts your chin, his thumb brushing across your lips before pressing a soft, lingering kiss against them. The night air around you seems to still for a moment.

“I interrupted your wishes to the goddess of this place...” His voice is a low murmur as he takes your hand, his fingers warm against your skin, grounding you. “Were you praying for us?”

You nod slowly, the weight of everything pressing down on you.

“Do you have a plan? Because praying was my only option now. I don’t know how... I don’t even want to think about leaving you.” The words leave your lips heavy, like a stone dropped in your chest. Your heart shrinks with the weight of them.

He meets your gaze, and for a moment, the world feels suspended in time. “I have a plan…” His voice is steady, but there’s something almost uncertain in the way he squeezes your hand. “But first…”

The wind rises in the forest, carrying the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves. It tugs at your hair, making it flutter around your face. You close your eyes for a brief moment, letting the chill of the night air brush across your skin. In that second, you feel Sylus shift. When you open your eyes again, your breath catches. He’s kneeling in front of you with a firm gaze.

“Eh..?”

The soft moonlight illuminating his face, casting shadows that dance with the flicker of distant stars.

“Be my wife. Be my queen. Be my everything.”

Your heart skips, caught between disbelief and longing.

“Sylus...?”

“Answer me...” His voice is raw now, a quiet desperation threading through it, though his eyes remain locked on yours. “Look at me. Promise me you’ll be my everything. I’ll never let you down. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

A shiver runs through you. The cool night air seems to grow heavier, the weight of his words pressing on your chest like the weight of the world.

“I..." You stay quiet for a moment with you head spinning. You try to stay calm. This is too much, why is he doing this now?

His words echo in your mind, asking you to make a choice — a choice you weren’t prepared for. Everything about this moment feels too fragile, too final. You want to say something, anything, but your throat feels tigh. Your emotions twist like a storm.

Finally, you find your voice, though it trembles with uncertainty. “I… I don’t know how to promise that..

"Just say yes..."

Even if your mind is too clouded to make sense of it.

"Yes." The word slips from your lips, a quiet surrender, and you don’t know whether to feel relief or terror at the choice you’ve just made.

His expression softens, but only for a fleeting moment, before he kisses your hand—an almost unbearably tender touch. He rises, his presence looming over you, and for a moment, everything feels heavy with unspoken emotion. A shiver of something deep and uncertain lingers in the air between you as he presses another kiss to your forehead, lingering just a second longer than necessary. “I will leave. That’s he plan.”

You freeze. The words hit you like ice water, snapping you back to reality. "W-What...? Where? How long?!"

"I can't tell you. I need to keep you safe. Let me do this my way. I'll come back."

The weight of his words crashes into you like a wave, overwhelming and cold. Panic rises in your chest like a tidal surge, and you feel your breath catch. “NO! You ask me to be your wife, and you want to fucking disappear?! No! No! I refuse.”

His eyes flash, a storm raging beneath the surface, his jaw tightening. “This is not a negotiation, kitten.”

The words hang between you, the forest around you eerily quiet now, as if the world itself is holding its breath. The tension crackles in the air, thick and heavy, just like the silence that follows.

“I will come back to you,” he says, his hand reaching out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, the touch so gentle it almost makes your knees buckle. “But right now, I need to do this. You’re the last thing I want to leave behind, but I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if it means… leaving you.”

“No, wait! Y-you...” You want to scream, to shout at him, to demand answers. But something in his eyes, the rawness and sincerity behind them, makes you hesitate.

"You need to trust me on this." Sylus doesn’t make promises he can’t keep. You know him too well. He’s a master at making plans, always finding a way out—even if it’s a bit messy sometimes. Right now, this is the best option. You know it’s the only choice, even if it doesn’t feel right.

What else can you do? Following Jenna’s orders to “sneak” into the N109 Zone and “watch” your boyfriend? And then what? Coming back with a false report? The weight of lying to your team will crush you. No matter how strong you think you are, you’re not sure you can carry that.

If Sylus isn’t there—if he’s mysteriously disappeared—well, the problem is solved. But at what cost?

You pull back, forcing yourself to smile, even though your heart is breaking inside.

“Just... be careful” He pulls you into another hug, holding you close, his voice barely a whisper as he brushes his lips against your ear.

“I always am.”

He kisses you again, slow and deep, as if trying to imprint the moment in both your minds. It's a kiss you want to hold onto forever, to keep with you no matter what happens. He doesn't how much time it will take be before he comes back to you, or if everything will work out. But just as he found you once, he will do it again—no matter what.

If there is any goddess, please, please...

"I will miss you, my beloved"

"I will miss you too..."

With that, he turns and melts into the shadows of the forest, his figure blending with the darkness. You watch him disappear, the sound of his footsteps fading into the quiet of the night.

And just like that, the world feels emptier.

...protect our love.

Under the moon, standing before the altar, you begin to cry inconsolably, in a way you've never done before. Your mind prays fervently for the protection of both him and yourself. A light breeze stirs once again, and you feel as though the forest is offering its comfort. It’s as if the ancient deity of this place has heard your prayers and, for a moment, granted you its blessing.

[marsdql]

Unexpected — ༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･

Extended verison of caught off guard !! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

Pairing: Brother’s best friend!Heeseung x fem!reader

Synopsis: You're shocked to discover that your longtime crush Heeseung is now friends with your brother, leading to a fanfiction-like (literally) story.

Genre/warnings: fluff, little suggestive?, brother's bestfriend, reader is 3 years younger, mention of stalking, alloooottt of teasing, no dividers in between the paragraphs… | wc: 25k I think.

𝙈𝙖𝙧’𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: im so extremely sorry for the ungodly word count I wrote each part separately and forgot to take in consideration the amount of writing I was doing.. The poll said to not make this into parts so I just put it all in one post though!!!!!!! + Masterlist coming soon, request me your suggestions (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ okay enjoy now

Your brother had made new friends during the first semester because of a lot of senior group projects, which made the house busy. Your brother and his friends wanted more quiet places to work on things, like each other's houses. It's strange that it was always at your house and not his friends' or the library, but whatever.

You didn’t mind much, until a particular someone came over, Heeseung, the 6’0 slim brunette senior you’ve been crushing on since you were in middle school, now a freshman. You followed him around everywhere with your friends, making it so obvious that you guys were following HIM. You would send him holiday letters provided by the school, stall his social media, follow his friends and him at one point until he removed you over a silly kpop story... everything… and now, he’s with your brother?! Since when!

Bad thoughts filled your mind as you remembered all the embarrassing moments he caught you staring at him, thinking that he’d tell your brother all of it if he sees you and finds out that you’re the sister of the guy he’s getting closer to each day. But you were hungry, so hungry, you needed to eat, you always do before taking a nap, it’s like a routine, he can’t just ruin your routine. You start making plans on how to get to the kitchen without Heeseung and your brother spotting you. After a few minutes of thinking, you finally build up the courage to get downstairs and pray for the best.

You tip-toe your way down the stairs, attempting to make as little noise as possible, and to your surprise, the two boys are on the island table right across the fridge, you’re doomed, he’s going to see you, you can’t just walk back upstairs!

“Y/n? What are you doing, you look so stupid right now.” Your brother blurts out which makes you jolt up and fix your posture. Shoot. You forgot that they can see you from their perspective more than you can see them. But you act fast, “huh? Oh! Hi um.. I was just counting how many steps we have to the stairs.. for a math project!” What the heck was that response? Whatever, it’ll do. As you finish your sentence, you give yourself an excuse to get closer so that it doesn’t get too awkward, and there he is, the Heeseung of your dreams, locking eyes with you with his stale and cold expression planted on his face, not one tiny bit of shock in his face when seeing you.


 “Hey by the way, don’t take a nap, mom wants you to help her with groceries, she’s coming in a minute, wait in the living room or something just don’t go back upstairs” your brother says before putting all his focus back to the project he’s doing with sousou. At this point, you mutter out a small “okay” and forget the snack you came downstairs for, heading to the couch to go on your phone and act like nothing happened(secretly glancing at Heeseung from time to time.)

30 minutes later, your mother comes back while your brother and mister take a bathroom break. You head to the garage, opening the door for your mother to bring the groceries in for you to then place them on the counter. You’re holding big heavy bags, making you groan trying to pick them all up, then all of a sudden, as you're trying to get up, you feel the weight getting lighter and lighter, thinking you're stronger than you thought, but to your surprise… It's the dream man helping you. “Are you that lazy? Couldn’t you have just picked them one at a time? Hm?” He says as he coughs out a small chuckle, picking up the bags with ease. You can’t do anything but stare at him and place them on the table, your lips forming an O but unable to make a sound or blurt any words out. Before you get yourself to say anything, he cuts you off with a “You’re not slick, we both know exactly why you’re so shy” what…????? “I’m not shy at all?! I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You scream before the nervousness gets to you. You never thought your first conversation with Heeseung was going to be like this. “Oh yeah? You think I don’t know what you do? All the letters you sent me the past 2 years? Common now, I’m not stupid hhh…” suddenly, he lets go of the bags and gets closer to you, your brother still in the washroom and your mother still outside. His cold expression is still there but with a slight smirk. Your cheeks and nose get red quickly, making him only grin harder as he sees the effect he has on you. “You wouldn’t want your brother to see all the cheesy things you’ve done, let alone your mother, hmph? Of course you wouldn’t want that, you’re such a nice girl they would never think you’d do that, you’re just a sweet girl who goes to school and hangs out with her friends, definitely doesn’t beg them to follow me around, right?” He’s so close to you, his words only making you blush harder. His eyes shift to the door as he watches your mother call for him “Oh hello Heeseung! Would you be a sweetheart and help me with these bags? Y/n, please put the milk away! I forgot something at that store, I need to go back and pick it up.” Of course, the young man quickly obeyed your mother and helped her out, leaving you red and shoving your face in the fridge to cool down, you’re cooked, you have no idea what's taking your brother so long, but it feels like an eternity… Since when did LEE HEESEUNG have the courage to say that? What’s he gonna say next???? You keep replaying the words he said a few seconds ago, making you go crazy all over again.

Hours later, 22:00, your brother and his friend passed out on the counter of the kitchen as you were laying in bed, bored and unable to think of anything except the incident that happened earlier. Your best friend would always write fanfiction of you and hee as a joke, not thinking anything of it because you knew you were not delusional enough to think a guy 3 years older than you would actually notice you or look your way.

Abruptly, you feel the urge to go to the bathroom, wanting to wash the guilt written all over you face from the amount of overthinking. As you get to the entrance, you notice a black statue from across the hallway, making your heart drop as it walks closer to you. Suddenly, your screams wake up the entire neighborhood, "I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I don't know what I did but I'm sorry I'll never wish death upon anyone else who likes Mingyu and joshua! I promise god I'll never ever hope that all S.coups fangirls except me will fall in a hole!" you close your eyes shut as you squeal and think its the end of your days.

Until that skinwalker finally decides to open his mouth and.. "BOO!" Heeseung screams as he shakes your shoulders, not initially intending on scaring you until he realized that you couldn't see his figure. Why did it have to be him again?! "Hey, I'm joking, calm down, you're okay. It's just me. What was all that blabbering about?" he says, again, with his famous chuckle you've probably heard more than actual words from his mouth. "You can't just do that! It's dark, nighttime and it's just annoying!" you wail, feeling surprised that you managed to actually say something to his face. "Huh? feisty, calm down scaredycat, do you usually see things?" You swallow, knowing that you not only see things, but hear things at night as well.

There's an awkward silence between you two, both standing in the dark with nothing but the light of the bathroom reflecting on eachothers skin. "So? You ain't gonna speak ‘bout nothing YOU'VE been doing? You just gonna stay quiet like that?" You gulp hard, since when was he this bold and confident? What did he expect you to say, then there you are, too scared and shy to talk again, obvious shyness on your face, making heeseung aware of it, once again. He would always secretly tease you, manspread in front of you while looking at you, trying not to stare at him back and attempting to put all your focus on your friends. He would lean against the wall and look at you up and down as you walked past him, with your face buried in your friend's back, trying not to go crazy over his state. He knew the effect he had on you, since the start, it boosted his ego the most. "You shy, doll?" He whispers as he gets closer, not scared of anyone catching you both being so close, almost heads touching.

“W-what if someone catches us like this?, you can't be so close..” You mutter under your breath, forcing the words out of your mouth knowing that you don't really want him to move. “Hm? You gonna stop me? I'll stop if you tell me to, you just gotta use your words, pretty” he whispers once again, looking down on you as he pushes both your bodies onto the wall near the door of the bathroom with his chest. Your lips are shut, unable to get yourself to push him away or say a word.

He feels you slowly giving in, he knows you would, you might know information about you but he knows all your body language, he knows how nervous you get when you're alone with him and he's ready to take advantage of you all. GO HIT THAT GUM JILGEONG!!(sorry i got bored) You feel 1000 knots in your stomach from his breath hitting you cold neck, seconds later, “Take me to your room.”

Saying that his words shocked you was a huge understatement, you were feeling so many emotions that you just went numb. Sight went foggy and you couldn't think anymore, the last thing you remembered was showing him the way to your bedroom. Heading to your bed with wobbly legs due to the fear you were feeling, you had zero idea on what was going to happen. How is this the first day you talk to Heeseung and it's already this crazy? You always imagined scenarios and insane stuff, but now it feels like you just manifested them all because this craziest one is coming to life.

“Cute room. Surprised you don't have any photos of me.” The tall man says as he throws himself on the bed. At this point, you would've been able to speak to him like a normal person, but all his flirtatious words made u only use your movements, no verbal communication in sight. He stares at your BT21 plushies with disgust, pushing them off the bed with his foot, is he really still annoyed about that instagram post? Or is he still jealous? “Hate those people” he huffs as he turns to his side, seeming amused with your sweet candy-like scent on your bed. “Why are you scared of your own bed?” He comments as he watches you stare at him from your desk, realizing that you arent on your bed because HE'S ON IT. “I-im not scared, maybe you're just too big for my bed and I can't fit.. Fatty..” ‘What'd you just call me?’ “Huh? What! I didn't say a-anything?” ‘No no i deeefinitely heard something, did you just call me fat?’ “Okay yes! I did, am I lying though? You're not slick, I know the locker you share with Jay is greasy as hell!” you squeal as you make a disgusted face. ‘Yeah? You saw me get out of class to get a cookie too? Or were you too busy trying to hide from me to be able to see what was in my hand?’ Shoot, You cant reply to him with anything, both answers are wrong.. ‘Yeah that's what i thought.’

“W-what are you doing in my room, why do you wanna be here?” You ask him, innocently. ‘Because I don't break my back sleeping on the couch and I have enough manners to not barge into your brother's room when he's asleep.’ “It's better if you sleep in my brother's room than anyone finding out you slept in mine…” 'I'll leave before anyone wakes up. Comon, I wont do anything.’ It's not like he’d do anything anyway, he's as nonchalant as ever and obviously wouldn't try anything on you, he knows you wouldn't actually give into THAT, plus, he's glad youre not like that, atleast at your age.

As Heeseung takes over your bed, you are still in shock. He is sprawled out like he owns the place, watching you from the other side of the room with a small smile on his face. When someone dares to call you out on your personal space, you feel both irritated and agitated.

He pats the empty spot on the bed beside him with the same smirk and asks, “Are you really just going to stare at me from over there?”

You pause, but you cannot maintain any resistance and end up stumbling over. You take care to maintain some distance between you while sitting on the edge, but he does not let you off that easily.

Hee laughs and creeps closer, making you all too aware of the distance vanishing between you two. “Calm down, I don’t bite.” When you look up, you see him observing you with that recognizable sparkle in his eye that indicates he is relishing every moment of it.

You make an effort to minimize it by rolling your eyes, but your cheeks’ redness most likely shows that you are not paying much attention. “Heeseung, what are you even doing here? Wouldn’t you be better off downstairs or not settling into my room?”

With a low chuckle, he leans back comfortably without shifting. With a playful tone, he raises his eyebrows and asks, “What, do you not like me here? Your mom is still out shopping, and your brother is unconscious. I thought, why don’t I keep you company since it’s just the two of us?”

Even though he still teases, his eyes are now softer. For a moment, he seems to be genuinely interested in you rather than just making jokes, as if he is looking at you differently than he has in the past. As the air between you thickens and you feel trapped but unwilling to move, your pulse quickens.

He leans forward abruptly, getting so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath. “Are you sure you actually want me to leave?” He whispers as his gaze moves over your face, capturing every tiny expression you are unable to conceal.

You catch the words in your throat. Before you can respond, he raises one hand and gently brushes a flyaway hair out of your face, his fingers remaining in place for a beat too long.

He whispers, “Tell me to stop, and I will,” in a low voice that is so intimate it chills you.

However, for some reason, you remain silent. You cannot decide whether you want him to stay or enjoy the excitement of him being this close to you and staring at you as if you are the only person in the room.

All he does is smile, that knowing smile returning to his face. He leans back and whispers, “Thought so,” remaining close enough to feel the electricity of the distance.

The weight of the moment presses down on you in the most euphoric way, making it seem like it will last forever. Even though Heeseung’s smile is still there, his eyes seem softer now, almost tender. He seems to be assessing each response, blush, and look as though recording them all.

In a low, informal voice, he begins, “So.” “Will you explain to me why you stare at me all the time, or will you continue to act as though it’s not obvious?”

He tilts his head, leaning a little closer to make sure you are not escaping too easily, but your face turns red hot, your heart pounding, and you quickly turn your head away. Please do not be so shy around me right now. He laughs softly and adds, “We both know you have been looking for a while.”

It feels like the words are stuck in your throat when you try to say something. He moves, keeping you cornered with his arm braced against the headboard next to your shoulder. The closeness is dizzying.

At last, you are able to find your voice. “I’m not… Really, I wasn’t. It’s not as if I—” His gaze prevents you from forming a coherent sentence, so you trail off.

Evidently taking pleasure in your agitated state, he laughs. “So it was not intentional that I always caught you staring at me in the hallway or whenever you passed by with your friends?”

Your lack of response is sufficient, and he smiles, obviously enjoying your response.

He leans slightly closer, until you can feel his breath fan across your cheek, and murmurs, “I guess I was right, huh?” He says quietly, “But you don’t have to be embarrassed, you know,” in a tone that has become more earnest and almost comforting. “I kinda enjoy it.”

You look up and meet his eyes as those final words give you a start. They have an unexpected quality that makes it seem as though he has known you as well as you have known him. There is still teasing, but it has a deeper, more genuine undertone.

“Wait—what?” Your voice barely rises above a whisper as you manage to blurt out.

His eyes remain fixed on yours as he smiles, softer this time. “Are you sure you don’t know?”

You do not trust yourself to say anything more, so you shake your head. He sighs as if he is having a hard time believing what he is going to say.

“Y/n,” he whispers, “I have been interested in you since long before tonight.”

The words linger between you, vibrating with an intensity that catches you completely off guard, and you freeze. Heeseung’s eyes soften, becoming completely serious instead of playful. His closeness now seems more like a confession than a tease.

You mumble, “Wait,” hardly believing your own voice. “You have not been ignoring me?”

He nods slowly, his previous sly smile giving way to something more real and vulnerable. “Yes, I have noticed you, but I wouldn’t say I have been staring at you. Do you think I have not noticed your gaze on me? Or the way you become silent around me? It’s clear, y/n.”

You are rendered speechless by the shock of what he said. Your heart is thumping in your chest and your mind is racing as you try to process this new reality. You have always known Heeseung was self-assured, perhaps even arrogant, but this? You have never seen him like this before. It is honest and unvarnished, and for a split second, you cannot even tell if you are dreaming.

Trying to gather yourself, you ask, “Are you serious?” but your words come out more breathless than you meant.

He responds softly, “I don’t joke about this kind of stuff,” as his thumb lightly brushes the side of your arm, warming your skin. “I have been trying to determine whether you were feeling the same way or if I was just dreaming.”

Your pulse quickens at the thought, and you bite your lip. The air feels heavier and thicker now, and the room feels smaller. In this moment of unsaid tension, everything around you seems to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you.

You do not say anything for a few seconds, allowing his words to register. You have long admired Heeseung from a distance and wondered what it would be like to be near him. However, you never imagined that he would share your sentiments. And now here he is, publicly acknowledging it, his eyes full of sincerity.

“I…,” you finally manage to say, “I did not know you would notice,” in a hesitant and low voice. “After all, I believed I was being subtle. I did not want to cause any strangeness.”

Hee laughs, his voice deep and comforting. “Clever? You? I promise you, y/n, there is nothing subtle about the way you gaze at me. However, I enjoy it. I have enjoyed it for some time.

For a moment, you question whether you are dreaming as the words hit you like a wave. The fact that he is sitting so close to you and that his hand is now resting on the bed between you two, inches from where yours is, makes the entire situation seem unreal. Even though everything is so personal, there is still a lot of uncertainty, which makes it difficult to completely unwind.

You ask, just above a whisper, “So, what now?” as a mix of anxiety and excitement rises inside of you.

Heeseung’s face softens as he inhales deeply. “Now?” he asks in a soft yet purposeful tone. “y/n, all I am waiting for now is for you to say what you want. Because I am listening to whatever it is. I would rather not hurry you. I have been waiting for you to solve it as well.”

For the first time in what seems like an eternity, you release the tension that has been building between you, and your heart skips a beat. You see the honesty and rawness that mirror your own feelings when you look into his eyes.

You look at him with fresh clarity and say, “I think I have figured it out,” in a quiet but firm voice.

It is the same spark in his eyes that has always held you, and Heeseung’s smile is back, albeit softer this time. “Yes? What did you discover?”

As you slowly extend your hand and touch his, you sense a spark of electricity.

His smile grows, and everything seems to be in harmony at that precise moment. There is no longer any hesitation or act of deceit. Now that you and him are at last in agreement, you can look forward to seeing where this unspoken bond may take you.

With his hand now resting on top of yours, Heeseung whispers, “I am glad you figured it out,” his voice barely audible above a whisper. “Because I have been anticipating that statement from you.”

And then everything is different. Something new—something thrilling, something genuine—replaces the tension and the air feels lighter

Neither of you could have imagined as Heeseung leans in and lightly touches your lips. A thrill is sent through you by the gentle touch of Heeseung’s lips against yours, but it is cut short by the distinct sound of footsteps approaching the door. Panic sweeps through you in a flash, and your heart jumps into your throat. With wide eyes, you instinctively glance at the door as though it might save you from the looming catastrophe as you swiftly pull back.

You hear your brother’s voice, loud and clearly irritated, as the door creaks open just a crack. “Y/nnie? Are you in there?”

Quick as ever, Heeseung leans back and puts just enough distance between himself and you to appear casual, but you can tell he is not nearly as shaken as you are by the way his eyes dart to you and the faint smile that is still tugging at his lips.

You force yourself to swallow in an attempt to control your panic. “Yes, I’m here!” you call out, your voice a little too high-pitched for comfort.

Your brother is standing in the doorway, obviously bewildered, as the door opens wider. His brow furrows in that manner that indicates he is going to ask a ton of questions, and he blinks twice as his eyes dart from you to Heeseung. “What on earth are you two doing in here?”

Your mind is a jumble of ideas and excuses as you fumble for the right words. “Nothin’! Nothing bad, really. We were just—uh, talking.”

Your brother folds his arms across his chest and his eyes narrow. “Talking?” he asks again in a suspicious tone. “You two talk like this all the time?”

Heeseung gives you a barely contained smile when you meet his gaze, as though he finds the entire situation humorous. He is not phased at all, of course, because he has always had that arrogant confidence that helps him get out of a tight spot. In the meantime, you are just a few seconds away from losing it due to embarrassment.

“Indeed, we were just catching up. We haven’t seen one another in a long time,” Heeseung’s voice is smooth and unaffected, as if a single sentence would allay your brother’s suspicions.

Your brother looks back at you with a raised eyebrow. “Catching up in her room, you two? Doesn’t that sound a bit suspicious?”

You give Heeseung a quick, frantic glance, hoping he will save you, but he is taking too much pleasure in this. “Again, we were just conversing. Nothing strange,” Heeseung says with a nonchalant shrug. “But we can go if you have to. I don’t want to invade your territory.” He says with a chuckle.

As though this whole exchange is one big headache he did not sign up for, your brother pauses, still glaring, and then sighs. Then he turns back to the door and murmurs, “Anyway, just don’t make it weird.” “You understand what I mean when I say that you don’t want to hear anything too strange from this room later?”

Heeseung shakes his head and lets out a barely contained laugh as he leaves. His voice is light as he says, “He’s got nothing on us,” but his grin remains mischievous and a bit too knowing.

With your heart still pounding, you release a breath you were unaware you were holding. You mutter, attempting to steady yourself by running a hand through your hair, “I can’t believe he just walked in like that.”

Leaning back against the bed, Heeseung laughs. “Slow down. In any case, he’s too ignorant to solve anything.”

Despite his playful tone, there is a surprising undertone of protectiveness in his voice. He looks you in the eyes, and for a brief moment, you are the only two of you. The tension from earlier returns, but this time it is different—more at ease.

You start to say, “Well, I suppose we should wait until he returns downstairs before we—” but Heeseung cuts you off, his eyes softening.

With a tone that conveys something unsaid, he asks softly, “Before we what?”

You look him in the eyes and feel the tension between you two return. This time, the separation between you is not about actual distance but rather about the potential outcomes and the uncertainty of what lies ahead. You can’t shake the feeling that something could change everything right in front of you.

You confess, “I… I don’t know,” not knowing how to move through the distance between you but unwilling to let go of the bond you have just found. “However, I am aware that I’m not yet prepared for him to solve this.”

With his confidence fully restored, Heeseung grins. “Don’t be concerned. We will resolve the issue. Furthermore, both you and I are aware of what really happens next.”

The ease with which he returns to his typical, carefree self makes you laugh and shake your head. However, you realize that perhaps—just possibly—you are ready to stop acting like everything is easy and let whatever happens between you and Heeseung play out naturally as you sit there with him and hear your brother’s voice reverberating in your head.

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[ marsdql ] •⩊•