#it just felt better to cut that and turn it into a mental health walk instead

[foldingfittedsheets]

@rox-and-prose THIS IS ACTUALLY A GREAT QUESTION.

So in the first draft I was gonna have a time skip of the house getting a little neater each day of the week, and Sabine was gonna have a line about like, "Oh! You must be good luck, you attracted a brownie."

And then during a revision I was like, I haven't shown enough of the fantasy element to be sure that a brownie would land, because people might not know about the helpful home fairies who cook and clean for you.

So when I revised I decided it was funnier if Jazz was caught cleaning but it does make her look 1000% sillier because she just saw a mess and was compelled to clean regardless of consequences.

[imaginedisish]

Dare (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys. Just wanted to say thank you for all the support I got this morning. All of your comments really warmed my heart. Thank you so, so, so much. I ended up getting this done pretty fast. Went with "Dare" by Gorillaz for the title. Made me feel better to write. I like this one. Hope you do, too. Enjoy!

Summary: Logan finds out you've never been eaten out while playing a game of "Truth or Dare," and he's more than willing to change that.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, softdom!Logan, pussydrunk!Logan (he does not let up, he is starving for you), older!Logan, implied aged gap (reader is in her 20s/old enough to teach at the institute), cocky!Logan, he is an absolute service dom in this, friends to lovers, mentions of mental health/self worth, fluff, some hurt to comfort, some angst, afab/fem!reader, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,235 wowza didn't expect that and oh my god this gif

You’re lying on your floor—the door to your room wide open. Everyone is out anyway. It’s Friday night at the mansion—no one will see you like this. Students’ papers are scattered around you. You stare up at the ceiling, feeling choked up. It had been a bad day—a bad week. Maybe even a bad year. You feel like you’re slipping, losing yourself. 

Teaching the older students had become beyond challenging—possibly because you aren’t much older than them in the first place. Most days, it felt like everyone expected greatness from you, given the strength of your powers, which naturally comes with responsibility, and that can be incredibly overwhelming. It had all been—if you were being brutally honest—an absolutely terrible time. 

So, you’re lying on your floor, feeling numb. You stopped grading papers at least an hour ago, and simply decided to stare at the ceiling, your head spinning. You wanted to calm the noise, to take a breather. Luckily, you’re alone—everyone is on a mission or out given that it’s Friday night. 

Or so you thought. 

“What on Earth are you doing?” A familiar voice cuts through the silence like a knife, jarring you, and forcing you to look up. And there he is, in a white t-shirt and denim jeans, arms crossed tightly against his chest, leaning in the doorway. Logan. You want to roll your eyes at how good he looks. You want to slap yourself for thinking it in the first place.

He smirks at you, his brows furrowed playfully. You let your head fall back to the floor. “Grading papers,” you mutter. You can hear his footsteps as he walks into the room, drawing closer to you. 

“Doesn’t look like you’re grading papers to me,” he teases. You can hear the smile in his voice. “Why aren’t you out with Jean or Rogue?” 

He stands next to you, and you look up at him. “Didn’t feel like it,” you mumble, forcing yourself to sit up. You draw your knees into your chest. You decide to turn the question around on him. “Why aren’t you out?”

He sits down next to you, stretching his long legs in front of him, his shoulder bumping against yours as he settles in. He shrugs. “Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on you, right?” He jokes, nudging his elbow into your arm. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. It’s impossible to fight it when he’s next to you. Your eyes meet his, and his smile quickly turns into something else—concern. “You’ve been off lately.”

You swallow harshly. “Did Jean or Rogue say something?” You ask. They’d notice, maybe they told Logan. “Did they ask you to stay with me or something?”

But Logan shakes his head. “No. I could just tell,” he says, worry clear in his voice. “Thought I’d hang back with you. All my idea.” He tilts his head, his jaw working, his brows furrowing again. “Is something going on?” 

You take a deep breath, turning away from him. You’re suddenly overwhelmed by his presence, by his kindness and his care. He stayed home for you. “I’m okay,” you mutter, avoiding the truth. 

“Hey,” Logan whispers, tentatively reaching his hand to your knee, waiting for you to shove him away. His palm is warm against your skin, calming and stabilizing. You turn back to look at him, his brows raised incredulously. “I know that’s not true,” he says. He has always been able to read you like a book. “What’s going on?”

You swallow harshly. “I’ve just been having a tough time lately,” you say, distracted by the way his thumb brushes across your knee. “I…” You trail off, letting your eyes fall closed. “Things are hard.”

“You can talk about it if you want,” he says, his voice deep and steady. “I’m here.” 

You sniffle, struggling to keep yourself in check. “I just…” you pause, looking off to the side. “Everything sucks.” You take another deep breath. “And the students are so hard.” You point to the piles of papers scattered around your floor. “And then there’s me, and all my shit. My powers. The responsibilities we have. I’m young, and I’m still learning. And fuck, Logan, this all just feels so impossible sometimes. It…it…” You trail off, finally running out of words, out of steam.

“It hurts.” He finishes your sentence, taking the words right out of your mouth. You turn back towards him, your eyes instantly meeting his. “It hurts a lot.”

You nod. “Yeah, exactly.” He squeezes your knee comfortingly. “You get it,” you murmur. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he soothes, his hand lifting off your knee, his arm wrapping around your shoulder instead. “I’ve got you.” You let yourself lean into his touch, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “Let’s take your mind off things, yeah?”

You nod against him, not wanting to move away, not wanting to separate from him. He feels so nice, so solid. “What did you have in mind?” You ask, hoping it doesn’t involve getting up.

“Wanna play a game?” He offers, turning his head to look down at you. You smile widely, almost mockingly. “What?” He chides. “You think I don’t know how to have fun?”

You laugh softly. “I just don’t see you as a game guy, Lo,” you confess. He chuckles, and you can feel his laughter reverberating through his chest. “Can you even think of one to play?”

Logan’s still laughing, shaking his head. “What about truth or dare?” He ever so slightly pulls you in closer, his lips pressed against the side of your head. 

You giggle, feeling light for the first time in a long time. “Are we in seventh grade?” You ask teasingly. You felt like a teenager, honestly—being next to Logan always made you feel like a love-sick schoolgirl. But you know you and him could never be. You were younger than Logan—everyone was—but you, being in your 20s, assume that Logan doesn’t see you the way you see him. 

He just shakes his head and laughs, pulling you back to reality. “Truth or dare?” He asks, ignoring your middle school comment and officially starting the game. 

You don’t want to get up, don’t want to move an inch, so you answer: “Truth,” hoping it isn’t anything too crazy. 

Logan thinks for a second, his head resting on yours. “Why’d you pick truth instead of dare?” He finally asks. 

You roll your eyes. “Boring!” You tease. “I only picked it because I don’t feel like moving.” And then you realize…perhaps your answer is more revealing than you previously considered. Your heart thunders in your chest. 

Logan hums. “And why don’t you want to move, exactly?” He’s onto you. 

“You asked your question, you got an answer,” you protest, trying to shut him down. “No follow-up questions.” It’s your turn now. “Truth or dare?” You ask. 

“Truth,” he says. “Because maybe I don’t feel like moving either.”

You smile, and you can feel him looking down at you. You’re too nervous to meet his gaze. You think for a moment, racking your brain for a question. “Did you really stay home for me, and was it all your own idea?” You finally ask. You regret the question almost immediately, fearful of the honest answer. 

“Yes,” he responds without a beat. “Jean said you were staying in, and said she didn’t know why, so I stayed too.” He pauses, and you can hear his steady breathing amidst the silence. “I was worried, princess.” The pet name burns a hole through your heart. “Needed to know that you were okay.”

You can feel tears building behind your sinuses. “Thank you, Lo,” you whisper. “That means a lot.”

He presses the ghost of a kiss to the crown of your head—almost not quite there. But you can feel it, hesitant and tentative. “It’s nothing, no need to thank me.” You finally find the courage to look up at him and find him smiling down at you. His lips part. “Truth or dare?” He asks again. 

You can feel some sort of tension brewing, building, thick and heavy. You try to ignore it, try to brush it off. Your heart hammers in your chest. “Truth,” you pick again. “But get a little more creative this time.”

He pauses, the gears in his head turning. And then finally: “Why’s your heart beating so fast? It’s loud, too.” 

Your eyes widen, suddenly remembering Logan’s heightened senses. He can hear everything. “Uh…” You trail off, not sure how to get out of this. “I-It’s not…”

He laughs. “You’re a terrible liar. You know that?” His voice is deep and honeyed, smooth. “You gotta answer the question, or I get to ask another.”

“Those are not the rules!” You protest, lifting your head to look at him. He’s got that shit-eating grin on his face, the one that makes your stomach drop. 

He tugs you into his chest again, his lips at the shell of your ear. “Then answer the question,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, sending a chill down your spine. He’s so close. Too close. Your heart is only beating faster, louder now. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper. But of course, you know. It’s all because of him. “Just anxious, I guess.” It’s a half-truth—you’re certainly nervous, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him why. 

“No need to be nervous, sweetheart,” Logan coos, his thumb brushing circles into your shoulder. “It’s just me.”

Yes, exactly, you want to say. It’s you. But you don’t. You try to steady your breathing, try to calm down. “My turn,” you force yourself to say. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he says darkly. “And make it good.” You can hear the cockiness in his voice—a sudden shift in his tone. 

“We should just call this truth or truth,” you say, mulling over a question in your mind. It’s hard to think with him this close—hard to breathe. You want to rile him up, to find out what makes him tick—to make him itch the way he makes you. And then it hits you: the perfect question. “When was the last time you…” You stop yourself, suddenly too nervous to ask. 

“When was the last time I what, darlin’?” He asks, cocking his head to the side, raising his eyebrows. 

You huff. You’ve fallen into your own trap. There’s no backing out now. “When was the last time…” You pause again, biting your lip. You close your eyes. “…somebody got you off?” 

“Been a while,” he says simply. Your eyes flutter open, and Logan is completely relaxed, his eyes trained on you. He isn’t annoyed. He’s unbothered, unprovoked, as if you had asked him what the weather was going to be like tomorrow. “But it depends on how you mean. So, what do you mean?” He finishes. 

You’re slightly frustrated by how easy it was for him to answer. “I don’t know,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders. “Whatever the last time was.”

“Few years back, not particularly proud of it,” he huffs. “Girl took care of me in a bar. That was it.” 

You nod. “Must’ve been nice,” you whisper, suddenly feeling a bit disheartened. You catch his drift; you know it didn’t mean anything. You likely didn’t know Logan at that time, having only arrived at the Institute two years ago. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous, shouldn’t care that he was ever with someone else, even for a fleeting moment. You’ve had boyfriends. You’ve been with other people. 

“It was fine. Just a blowjob.” He says it nonchalantly. “Didn’t mean a thing.” You look straight ahead, waiting for him to elaborate. But he doesn’t. “Truth or dare?” He finally asks. 

“Truth.” Your fake, plastered-on smile becomes real when his eyes meet yours. It’s just what happens when you look at him. “And make it interesting.”

The corner of his mouth turns up slyly, and you know he has something up his sleeve. “When was the last time somebody did that to you?” He asks. 

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?” But you already know exactly what he’s asking. And you desperately do not want to give him the answer.

“Got you off, like that,” he husks. “With their mouth.”

Fuck. “Uh…” You trail off. You can feel heat spreading across your chest and up your neck, your skin prickling. “Never,” you say honestly. 

“What?” Logan’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife. “Never?”

You’re suddenly embarrassed. Your skin feels tight—so do your shorts and tank top. “Never,” you repeat, looking down at your knees, still pulled in tightly to your chest. Your heart beats rapidly. “Just hasn’t happened yet,” you choke out. “I’ve been with people, but…”

“Hey,” he whispers, suddenly grabbing your chin and angling you up to face him. “It’s okay,” he soothes. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, princess.”

You smile shyly, reveling in his touch. “You didn’t,” you insist honestly. “Just a little embarrassed.”

Logan shakes his head, his eyes softening. “Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he assures. “You deserve to be taken care of.” His hand slides across your jaw and cups the back of your neck. “Deserve to feel good.”

Your eyes flutter closed at his touch. “Lo,” you whisper, struggling to keep your composure. Heat pools between your thighs. “Tr-truth or dare.”

His forehead presses to yours. “I think we’re done with the game, pretty girl,” he rasps, the arm around your shoulder slipping down to your waist. “Unless I get to give you a dare this time.”

“What’s the dare?” You ask, your eyes fluttering back open. His lips are so close. Your noses touch softly.

He works his jaw, licking his lips. “Let me eat you out, pretty girl,” he pants, his chest heaving against yours. “Let me take care of you like you should’ve been already.” He hates the idea that you’ve never been touched properly, the idea that those younger guys didn’t know how to treat you right. But he can fix that. He can make you feel good.

“Fuck,” you curse, his breath fanning across your lips. “A-are you sure?” You ask. “I don’t want you to do it just because you feel bad for me or—” “You think that’s what this is about?” He cuts you off, pulling you closer so that your body faces his, your thighs slotting together like puzzle pieces. “You think I want this just because I feel bad for you?”

“Well…” You search his eyes. “Yes,” you say. 

Logan’s face falls, and he shakes his head. “I want you, pretty girl,” he pants, his knee rubbing against your aching core. “Wanted you this whole time.” His palm presses firmly against your back, his other hand gripping your neck tighter. He wants, no, needs you closer. “You ruined me the second I saw you. Haven’t been with anyone since then.”

“Logan,” you whisper, bringing your hands up to his neck. “I want you too. Always have,” you confess.

He smiles, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to yours. “Then let me do this for you,” he rasps, almost begging, like he needs this more than you do. “Need to make you feel good, beautiful.” “Please,” you breathe. “Want you so bad, Lo.”

He curses under his breath, his lips capturing yours, harder this time. This kiss is starving, all-consuming. His tongue swipes across your lower lip, and you open your mouth, inviting him inside. He lowers you down carefully, sure not to break the kiss, guiding your back to the wood floor below. 

His thighs rest on either side of your hips as he hovers over you, bracing himself with his forearm. His free hand trails up your body, exploring your curves, hiking your shirt above your breasts. He smirks against your lips at the realization that you have no bra on. 

“Look at you,” he mumbles, rolling a nipple under his thumb, palming your breast. “Fucking perfect.” His fingertips drag to the other side, massaging you gently, taking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinching softly. “Can smell you, you know,” he grunts. “Know you’re soaking for me, darlin’.”

His hand slides between the valley of your breasts, trailing down your stomach, until his fingertips bump into the waistband of your panties. He hesitates, looking down at you, waiting for you to change your mind, to tell him to stop. “Please,” you beg. “Need you, Lo.”

Logan smirks, his hand slipping under the hem of your shorts and inside your panties. “Love it when you call me that, sweetheart,” he groans. His fingertips flick your clit gently before finding your folds, feeling your arousal. “Barely even touched you,” he tuts. “And she’s already crying for me.”

He prods your entrance, spreading your slick, teasing you. He bites your lips, sucking so hard he might bruise—might draw blood—and you hope he does. You want proof that he was here, proof that he wants you—needs you this badly. You moan as his fingers find your clit again, drawing a few soft circles before pulling away, his hand slipping out of your shorts. 

You grab his biceps needily, impatiently, your nails digging into his skin. “Don’t stop,” you cry out. “Please, Logan.” 

He swallows your moans with another kiss, his lips trailing down to your jaw, then your neck—that sensitive spot just under your ear. “Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he soothes, biting down on your pulse point, licking the hollow of your throat. “Don’t think I could stop if I tried.” He nips at your collarbone, shoving your tank top further up your chest as his lips drag down the valley of your breasts. 

He kisses his way to your stomach, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down your legs. His palms spread across your inner thighs, yanking them apart. He settles between them, his face just inches from your heat. He presses a chaste kiss to your clit, still all too clothed, hidden behind your panties. 

“Lo,” you whine. He breathes you in, pressing another kiss to your clit. He digs his fingers into the hem of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. 

“Wanna take my time with you, sweetheart,” he grunts, finally throwing your panties to the side. He spreads your legs wider, his face settling back between your thighs. You can feel his breath against your cunt, warm and teasing. “Wanna take care of you.” His lips finally find your clit again, and he licks at you. 

His tongue is soft, warm, wet. He laps at you again, harder this time, and you moan his name. “Fuck,” you curse as he licks a long stripe through your folds and back up to your clit, flicking the bud. Your legs twitch, your hips backing away involuntarily at the newfound pleasure. Logan’s hands slide under your ass, yanking you back to his face. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He mumbles teasingly against you, the vibration of his deep, bassy voice rocking your core. “Not letting you go until I’m done with you, darlin’.”

You curse under your breath as he licks another long, slow stripe through your folds before settling on your clit. His tongue draws gentle circles around the bud, and you can’t hold back the loud moan that falls from your lips. 

“Yeah?” Logan husks between laps. “Feels good, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, looking down at Logan, his face buried against your cunt. His eyes are trained on yours, watching your every move, taking in the way you’re squirming for him. “D-didn’t know it would feel this good, Lo.”

“Gonna try something, okay?” He says, his eyes searching yours. You nod emphatically, bracing yourself. His lips wrap around your clit, his teeth lightly grazing the bud as he pulls it into his mouth. And then he sucks, hard. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your back arching off the floor.

He releases the bud, and does it again, sucking harder this time. Tears brim at the corners of your eyes, pleasure coursing through your veins. “Logan!” You cry out, your nails digging into the floor below, searching for purchase. “Fuck!” He laps at you soothingly, drawing tighter, faster circles around your clit. 

“You okay?” He coos between laps, his tongue swirling rapidly. 

You swallow, meeting his gaze again. The sight of him between your legs, working your clit, his hair a disheveled mess—it’s overwhelming. “Yeah,” you heave. “More than okay.”

He smirks against you and wraps his lips around your clit again, sucking on the bud like hard candy. His right hand slides out from under your ass, trailing up your inner thigh. Your heart thunders in your chest as his fingertips find your folds, spreading your slick, your walls clenching down around nothing. 

“Know you need ‘em, pretty girl,” Logan croons, two fingers nudging your entrance. “Beg for it.”

But he’s sucking on your clit again, making it impossible to say a word. You whimper, your legs trembling. “P-please,” you stutter, choking on air. “Need…” You trail off, your eyes fluttering closed. You swallow harshly. “Need your fingers, Lo,” you finally manage. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, shoving two fingers deep inside you, down to his knuckles. 

“Fuck, thank you,” you whine, moaning his name as his fingers stretch you out. You suddenly feel so full, so warm, so close. He pulls out, only to plunge back in, deeper this time. He’s lapping at you with reckless abandon—a man starved, like you’re the air he needs to breathe. Your walls flutter around him, the liquid heat in your lower belly threatening to burst. 

“Tastes so good,” Logan mumbles against you, his long, thick fingers thrusting in and out. He hits that sweet spot deep inside you with every pump. “Such a sweet little pussy. Tastes better than I imagined.” You’re crumbling underneath him. His words alone might push you over the edge. “Nothing compares to you, you know that?”

Your walls flutter again, his fingers sinking deeper inside you. “You like that?” Logan husks. “Like knowing how much I want you? How much I need you?”

“Yes,” you groan, his fingers fucking into you, faster now. His teeth graze your clit as he pulls the bud back into his mouth and sucks roughly. “N-need you, too. Always.” 

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes, scissoring inside you, dragging along your walls. He laps at you, his tongue stroking your clit. “Not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

You curse under your breath. You can feel yourself melting, your walls contracting and releasing. “Lo,” you call. “I’m so close. Wanna…” You trail off, unable to finish. 

“Can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart,” he breathes. “Don’t hold back. Let it happen,” he coaches, rocking into you. “Wanna taste you, wanna feel you come on my fingers.” He laps at you between sentences. “Come for me. Know you can do it.” And then everything is white-hot and blazing.

It’s earth-shattering—better than anything has ever felt before. The tension snaps, heat boiling under your skin. Everything is blurry, hazy, dizzied as you let go, and let go hard. You cry out Logan’s name, your thighs shaking as waves of pleasure drag you under. Your bones are burning, scorching. Everything is on fire—overwhelming and greedily all-consuming. 

Logan’s pumps slow, and he carefully pulls out of you. He laves at you, his tongue pushing through your folds, milking you dry, savoring every last drop. 

“Logan,” you whisper, your hands reaching down to his head, digging your fingers into his scalp. 

He hums against you, unwavering as his tongue laps at your folds, tasting your release. 

You’re still shaking, still coming down from your high. “Logan,” you call again, and he looks up this time, lifting his face from your cunt. Your release glistens on his chin, and he licks his lips clean of you. His eyes are dark, his palms squeezing your thighs possessively. 

“I’m not done yet, sweetheart,” he says, demand clear in his voice. 

Your heart flutters in your chest as he climbs up your body, hovering over you again. His lips find yours. “You taste that?” He mumbles, kissing you again, harder this time. “You taste how sweet you are?”

“Y-yes,” you answer, his hand sliding down your body, slipping between your legs, finding your overstimulated clit. 

He pinches the bud lightly, your back arching off the ground, your breasts pressing to his all-too-clothed chest. “Need more of you,” he husks, his hand dragging back up your body. He sits up and pulls you into his chest, taking all your weight as he hoists you up and stands. You instinctually wrap your legs around his waist. 

He places you in the center of your bed before striding across the room, closing and locking your bedroom door. “They’ll all be home soon,” Logan says, walking back towards you, spreading your legs and settling between your thighs. “Might have to be quiet for me, darlin’.”

“W-what do you—”

And then his face is buried deep inside your cunt, his tongue lapping desperately at your clit. “I told you,” he rasps. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

tags: @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesslut @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

[layaispunk]

a warm escape | joel miller x reader

summary: joel comforts you when you're having a hard time back home during winter break.

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: age gap (25/35), mentions of smoking, mentions of a dysfunctional family & family conflict, fluff, pet names, mentions of reader having long hair

wc: 1.2k

note: This is a personal one, and its my first time writing in first person!!!! 🫶🏼 i hope u enjoy and let me know if u want a part two

The chilly december air bit into my cheeks, my heavy breathing coming out like smoke. My nose was red and stinging, but it wasn't like I could spend another second in that house. Not with the yelling. I had to go for a walk for the sake of my mental health. I needed air, space - anything to gather my thoughts, and I was too angry to journal.

As I turned the corner, Joel Miller, my neighbor, was sitting on his porch with a cigarette glowing faintly in hand. He noticed me before I could pretend that I hadn't seen him.

"Cold out," he said, his voice a low rumble that somehow felt warm compared to the freezing air.

I nodded, pulling my coat tighter.

"You walkin' or runnin'?" he asked, tilting his head towards my childhood house.

I blinked. "Bit of both."

I wanted to go sit next to him. I didn't want to talk about what happened, but there has always been something fatherly about him, almost as if his presence would instantly make you feel better.

I hesitated for a second, the cold biting at my hands as I stuffed them into my pockets.

Then, without saying a word, I walked up to his front porch, and sat next to him. Joel glanced at me, he wasn't surprised at all. Didn't make me feel like I was bothering him, or intruding. He just held the cigarette out in my direction without a word.

I took the cigarette from his hand, the warmth of it was comforting against my numb fingers. Raising it to my lips, I took a small puff, and handed it back to him. It's been a while since I smoked last, but I needed it.

As if reading my mind, he mumbles, "You can keep it." Joel shook his head. "You doin' alright, sweetheart?" he said, his voice low and calm.

I glanced at him then, properly, really looking at him. The soft glow of the porch highlighted the crow's feet at the corner of his eyes. His hair was ruffled, dark brown and shiny, almost making me want to run my hands through it.

He didn't say anything else, just leaned back slightly, waiting for me to take the cigarette again.

Lost in thought, I wasn't sure what I was doing here, sitting on Joel's porch. Or, even better, I wasn't sure what I was doing here, visiting my family for the holidays, when I know things would never change. The same fights, the same bitter words ... It was hard to ignore the ache in my chest.

Joel must have sensed the shift in me, the way my gaze had turned distant, like I was in a place he couldn't quite reach. He didn't push it. The quiet attention he gave me was enough.

At that moment, his presence was enough. Breaking the fog of my thoughts, he placed a hand on my thigh, the weight of it grounding me, pulling me back to the present moment.

His touch was demanding, firm - but not aggressive. He was letting me know he was there.

Joel's voice cut through the air again. "You want to come inside for a cup of coffee?" he asked, his gaze steady on me. I liked the way he looked at me. Like he was seeing me. It was the first time that evening that I felt like someone was actually hearing me, like all the noise in my head faded away.

I nodded, the idea of a warm cup of coffee sounding like exactly what I needed. "That would be nice" I replied softly, my voice coming out really small.

Joel put out his cigarette on the ground, stepping on it with a quick motion before rubbing his hands together to warm them. Then, without a word, he reached for mine, his fingers warm against the cold. He pulled me inside, and as soon as the door clicked shut behind us, he wrapped his arms around me in a warm embrace.

The moment his arms enveloped me, my brain went quiet - like the world had stopped spinning for just a second. It felt safe. Secure. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t have to think.

He pulled away, his hands still resting on my shoulders, eyes steady. "You can stay here for as long as you’d like," his voice was soft. "You know that, right? You know Sarah wouldn’t mind. I wouldn't mind."

I smiled softly at him, and nodded. "Thank you," I whispered.

As we made our way into the living room, I found myself missing the feel of his hand around mine. It was strange, an unusual emptiness that I couldn't quite understand.

The house was quiet. Sarah was probably out with her friends. It felt strange knowing we had the house to ourselves. Most of the time, Joel and I had always hung out in group settings before, rarely meeting one-on-one like this. He had always been the protective, friendly neighbor, the kind who made sure I was alright- while keeping a respectable distance, never pushing.

When I had told everyone I was moving to London for my masters degree, Joel was the one who went out of his way to make sure I had everything I needed. He cared more than my own family had, making sure I was prepared, asking if I needed anything before I left. And even after I’d moved, he’d called me a couple of times—just to check in, to see if I needed anything from back home, or if I needed help with my apartment.

It made me feel… tingly, in a way I couldn’t explain, like someone actually cared beyond the usual pleasantries. I often wondered how he felt about me. I was young - ten years younger than him - but he never treated me like a child.

Joel made two cups of coffee, one for him, and one for me. He grabbed the mugs and started heading towards the living room. He glanced over his shoulder when he realized I hadn't moved, giving me that familiar smile. "C'mon, darlin'."

As I followed him into the room, my eyes caught sight of the guitar tucked in the corner. I wondered if he played often, or if it was just there for the rare moments when he has some time to himself. The fire crackled in the fireplace facing us, casting a warm, golden glow on the room. It was so peaceful.

Joel turned on the TV with a casual motion, then grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and draped it around me, the warmth settling over my shoulders as I sank into the comfort of his brown leather couch. It smelled like him. I wondered if he needed this company the same way I did. Knowing he was usually by himself, ever since Sarah grew up - spending more time with her friends, leaving him by himself most evenings.

I leaned against him, quietly, as we both drank our coffees. After a few minutes, I felt his fingers gently brush through my hair. At first, I didn't notice it, or maybe it just didn't register it as anything more than a casual touch. But then, it became more intentional - his fingers slowly running through the strands, almost like he was testing the waters, unsure of how I would react.

I didn't pull away. My body was trying to communicate that I didn't want him to stop. His touch was so soothing, and before long, my eyelids started to grow heavy. My eyes fluttered closed, and before I knew it, I was resting against him, my breathing slow, as I dozed off.

[warmcookiepuff]

RESTART ( badly timed reunions suck ass when you leave your best friend behind)

— gn!reader, jason, wingman roy, mentions of dick

tw: curse words (many), jason dealing with his mental health and hyper independence (i hc he never properly deals with it)

p.s: raw writing skills after a year of retirement (it sucks).

p.s 2.0: Yes i rewrote this

---- ⭐ ----

"You've got a type," Roy jokes, lightly shoving his friend as he swivles his cup of juice. His eyes turning to the newbie vigilante across the room, stressing over the cups knocked over on the table.

"Yeah? What's that?" Jason rolls his eyes, adjusting himself on the wall. His eyes never leave your back.

"Scary," Roy hums, taking a sip of his juice as he watches you stack the cups again annoyingly.

It's been a while, you know. Probably a decade. Last you checked, he upped and died after getting adopted from the Alley you both grew up in. His shirt used to be as dirty as yours. Your smarts still match his, even more actually. Both were practically inseparable before--

Well.

"I don't know why you guys don't just talk," Roy muses. "It's not like you don't know each other."

"We don't," Jason answers harshly, his eyes looking away from you to his friend. "I'm not the kid that played mechanic anymore. Besides, I've got blood on my hands."

Its quiet. The house is still buzzing with friends and family. Wayne's mansion was grand as always. Jason always looks out of place in a space like this. Especially in celebrations, he typically never shows up. Not even for his own birthday. Much less Dick's.

Where he currently is.

The real question is: "Why is he here?"

Dick knows Jason won't come to the party. Everyone does. In typical Jaybird fashion, he'd send a text a few days late wishing his family a 'happy birthday' (if they're lucky).

He's a self-sufficient guy. The hyper independent, gruff, bad boy vigilante with a few screws loose. He does fine on his own.

So Dick brings in his screws; you. Jason fell for it like a sheep.

"How did Dick even--" Jason starts, feeling frustrated over the situation. Roy cuts him off.

"I told him."

"Honest to God I could kill you right now, Roy."

"In my defense, it sounded good at the time."

"I almost chopped their head off? What the fuck do you mean it sounded good?!"

"They threw like 15 bombs at you. Something tells me they don't just die easy."

"Christ, you're insufferable," Jay pinches the bridge of his nose. Needing silence above all else at the moment for the migraine that was shooting up his psyche. "i need some fresh air. DON'T follow me. I'll shoot your ass."

Jason leaves before Roy could say a word.

The balcony doors push open. Cold air pricks his cheeks and he takes a deep, deep breath of the polluted Gotham air. He rests his elbows on the railings, overseeing the city raining with crime.

Home.

There's a beat of silence. Before he sighs heavily, holding his head in his hands.

"Why am I like this," He asks himself in a low, tired voice. One he uses when he's sure he's alone. "Fuck's wrong with me. Can't be normal for five fucking seconds."

"Honestly, it was like 46 minutes but who's counting?"

Jason arms himself with his gun as swift as possible, his eyebrows furrow angrily as he makes sense of the silhouette standing by the balcony door behind him.

"Better than beheading, I'd say," You roll your eyes, walking up to him unfazed.

"You-- I-- Give me like 5 seconds," He locks in, immediately stuffing his gun in his holster. Fuck, since when did he stutter.

"Time's up," You answer smoothly, leaning on the railing with your body turned to his own rigid stance. "Speak, big boy."

"How'd you know I was out here?"

"You're a big guy," You answer, shrugging. "Also, Roy."

"Fucking ginger," He sighs, massaging his temples. "Don't do this to me."

"Do what?"

"Pretend we're talking. Like we're friends again."

"I'm not doing anything you don't want me doing," You put your hands up in surrender. "Talk when you want."

It felt like hours had passed by in the quiet that the cold had started to nick at your skin. Cars had passed, small amounts of people had left. For once, Jason didn't want to disappoint someone more than he already has -- he's stuck in his own head. He had to say something.

Anything.

Anything that isn't so fucking stupid.

"I... I missed... you," He says through gritted teeth, his eyes never meeting yours -- his heart pounding and nervous.

He should've died in the Pit.

The second of silence you left had him consider every escape option possible.

You snort loudly and burst out laughing. It catches him off guard. It was noisy, loud -- full of life. You grip the railing as you hold your stomach.

"I--," You heave, snickering through your words. "I-- I missed you too."

[bau-drabbles]

say it again

a/n: fluffy fluff w the team and spencer. it was gonna be smut but i was having a mental breakdown over my exams so it took a diff turn lmao.

hope you enjoy 🤍

"hey pretty girl-" "no" "but i-" "no"

wrapped up in a thick warm blanket, you narrow your eyes at morgan while everyone still boards the jet. he's annoying you and you know it. but combined with your health and tiredness, you really don't want to play into it tonight.

however morgan is morgan and he has other plans, obviously

you were just so grateful to be going home where your bed desperately awaits your presence. it had been an awful two weeks, the unsub was meticulous and smart. and he worked with several people, it took days to track them all down. not to mention today was also the delightful day your immune system decided it no longer wanted to work resulting in a high fever and the flu. you passed the worst of it but not yet well enough to do most things.

"are you sleeping?" rossi poked your head and you gave him a slight glare, indicating towards yourself

"does it look like i'm having a party here?" you ask sarcastically, making him raise his arms in defense. rossi chuckles as he sits next to morgan, undoubtedly the two were going to be a pain in the ass the whole entire time.

"you cut us deep kid, you cut us real deep" morgan placed a hand over his heart, feigning sadness and pain. you both went back and forth with the comments until you groan slightly, leaning your head back.

"emily" you complained, pointing to the men opposite you. they laughed a little and slowly coughed when she gives them both a stern looking over.

"you leave her alone morgan, y/n isn't feeling well" emily scolded lightly, turning the page on her book.

"neither am i" he whines back, dramatically flopping his hand to his head.

"aww you poor baby" jj playfully mocked derek, coming back from the kitchen. she warmed a hot water bottle for you to have, her motherly instincts kicking in.

"there ya go" she gave you a sweet smile, standing up as she ruffled your hair. everytime a member of the team were sick, jj always made sure they were comfortable and rested. it was always without hesitation, always making you thankful there was someone in the team like her.

"how you feeling gumdrop?" garcia walks in with all her bags, setting them down as she feels your forehead. your frown is still fixated upon derek with whom you both start playfully bickering with each other

"hey hey, none of that sass mister. y/n is ill tonight, okay?" penelope narrows her eyes at him who blinks in shock.

"babygirl you're supposed to be on my side"

"hey i always am! but you, my delectable chocolate thunder, are getting on everyone's last nerve right now" she taps her pen at the end of his nose. he frowns in confusion but she settles beside him, giving him a nudge.

you give derek a cheeky smile knowing you've won that round and he narrows his eyes at you, knowing he would pay you back when you were better. you rolled the blanket over your head, cocooning yourself in a ball.

"are you feeling better, l/n?" hotch enters, settling in his usual place. you mumble a response from under the blanket, shivering slightly as the hot water bottle pressed firmly into your body. why was it so hard to warm up?

"hey l/n y'know-" derek begins but you cut him off with an annoyed sigh.

"leave me alone" you grumble under the warmth of your layers, hearing chuckles coming from the plane.

you feel something warm wrapped themselves around your lap and you stiffen, ready to tackle some sense into derek. but you see curly hair splayed on your lap. arms coming to snake themselves around your waist, beautiful honey eyes coming to give you some comfort. you relax, holding him that much closer

"never" spencer whispers, his hands coming to holds yours. his fingers interlaced with yours, he brings the back of your hand for a kiss, rubbing your knuckles tenderly. it felt so incredibly intimate, every part of you warming up to his affections.

he can't help but brush some hair back, just observing how beautiful you looked. even when you were sick, you had him in a trance that he never wanted to wake up from. he wants more, you feel his lips brush against your cheeks, breaths mingling until a pillow on your lap completely cuts you from your daze.

"get a room kid!"

[peppertoastuniverse]

more than a late night snack – gojo satoru chapter 4: chicken curry

contents: gojo satoru x reader, tw!ptsd, mental health issues, swearing, mild angst/comfort, hesitant fluff, no one is good at feelings, 2 idiots summary: gojo shows up unannounced during one of your solo missions. in a battle of egos, you pick a fight when you mistake his worry for bravado. 

wc: 4.1 k

something in gojo’s stomach drops, barriers breaking, white anger over taking his thoughts.  “fine, fucking fine! next time babe, I’ll just stand by and watch you get slaughtered- ”  “you should have left me to die then, save yourself the trouble! Looks like you regret your decision.” You counter deathly calm, not sparing him a second glance before slamming the door in his face. 

previous chapter ll master list ll next chapter

you had to start running faster. the growing pounding of your heart led the rhythm of your quick steps. your lungs started to feel the strain as you dodged yet another attack, adrenaline carrying you. you grinned, blood pumping through your veins, there was a guilty and growing part of you loved the chase.  perhaps it was because you felt the most alive when you were running for your life. you felt the wind in your hair - it was colder than usual for this time of year, your breath making clouds from your rapid exhale. the rustling of the trees stilled as they turned into ash beside you, a reminder of your mortality.

in the brief yaga provided instructed you to locate and eliminate a second grade curse in Hiroshima. there were multiple reports of disembodied giggling near the primary school and mysterious cuts that appeared on children near the forest but when reports escalated to missing children is when you were assigned. on the third day you quickly found that it was stemming from the abandoned orphanage near by. the mission was straightforward, a walk in the park -  until multiple lower level curses decided to join all the fun. 

now you were running through the forest the low sun chasing you, trying to lead all the curses away from the town. You scoffed sensing at least 20 weaker curses within the area, converging together.

where did they did they all come from? 

shit. you dodged another blast that formed a deep crater in the ground to the left of you, you slightly stumble at your sloppy the landing.  sensing something close, you take another curse just in time before choosing to make a run for it rather than fight them all at once. You’d rather avoid a battle of attrition - you had to save your cursed energy for the second grade still lurking around  - you needed to be careful. 

the trees looked familiar, branches snapping easily, just like the necks of the children screamed and screamed when -  you tsked, as you felt a searing hot pain on back of your right bicep. 

you sighed heavily. how annoying. this really wasn’t the time.  it was the first flashback from Shirakawa that you had in a long while. you frowned, you thought you were doing better. for a while you worried if you were losing it, and this recent set back confirms that you may have.

you felt the blood trickle down your forearm, while you jumped to dodge yet another attack, perching in the trees to see where they were all coming from. concentrating your energy, you send a blast from behind you, effectively taking care of the 2 curses tailing you at once. gazing through the bush, you can see at least 10 curses converging in the distance.

fuck. this was getting bad. you had to move it before-

your breath stalls, the air shifts.  you feel it before you see it, cursed energy surging… this was definitely more than a second grade - this was at least a first grade. huh. It wouldn’t be the first time that the brief was slightly off, but it seemed like this was happening more and more lately.

quickly jumping to the ground, you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up - it must be close. turning, you see it: a creature with multiple gangly long limbs, its  body covered in long, dark black hair. rising 16 feet behind the trees, attached to it’s thin neck was an upside down humanoid head, in place of its eyes and mouth were black holes filled with multiples rows of sharp teeth. the lower level curses wind around the black mass of hair, swarming with renewed energy. you dont want to think about what happened at the orphanage to create this monster.

once it spots you, it jerks its legs uncoordinatedly, running on it’s 6 legs as it stalks towards you with surprising speed. 

fuck the strategy. if it wants to play, let’s play. a chaotic grin dances its way to your face. you love a challenge. 

you begin to run towards the curse, it charges towards you in return the cold air filled with it’s echoing giggles with the voices of hundreds of children. 

you remembered the children, you saw them in your nightmares as their heads rolled off their bodies, their screams for help right before - stop. stop. you had to concentrate what was left of your cursed energy before - 

abruptly you sense an unmistakeable force, his cursed energy. your jaw tenses in annoyance, it was unmistakable.

why was he here? you didn’t need his help. 

you felt another sharp pain on your left calf as a smaller curses slices into you. Shit.

you needed to focus, breathing heavily now you jolt to avoid the multiple curses trailing you as you blast a curse away – there were just way too many of them. in the chaos you take your eyes off the of the long limbed monster, dodging a gangly limb at the last second, cringing as you feel the coarse hair on your skin.  

“OYYY! BABE. MOVE!” you hear in the distance. your eyes widen, you turn your head just in time to see a ball of blue tumbling quickly towards you. swearing at his recklessness, you sprint as fast as you could through the trees just in time before the ball of energy lights up the darkening sky, overwhelming the shaggy haired curse and obliterating the remaining smaller curses. just like gojo, the blue energy leaves only destruction in its path - the silence after the chaos deafening.

breathing heavily, a grating voice brings you back to reality.

“heh, I knew I’d find you. suguru owes me 1000 yen.” gojo appears from behind the trees, dark glasses shielding his bright eyes, his stark white hair almost glowing in evening sky. “did ya miss me?”

your temper soars. you were almost shaking with the bitter anger that filled up your stomach, shame anchoring your rage. 

“why are you here, gojo?” you have yet to turn around and face him, you're afraid that if you do you're going to kill him.

“what I can’t see my favourite  - what?” at his cocky tone falters when he notices your shaking clenched fists.

“are you fucking kidding me right now?” you spit out, hands crossed across your chest acting as a lock to prevent your raging emotions from escaping. you stomp past him as the veil above you disappears.

“.. what’s wrong? hey!” 

he trails after you in the halls, calling your name. 

“–look, it’s fine! at the end of the day, the curse is gon-“

you slam the door to your room, leaving gojo standing at the threshold.

pacing around your room, finding some pajamas before practically ripping off your uniform. you were done for the day but more importantly, you were done with him.

how dare he? did he think that you were weak? incapable? useless? worthless? 

you scoff, pulling up your shorts. he had no right to make decisions for you - he was so fucking inconsiderate, selfish and so, so infuriating. you shove the oversized tshirt over your head, muttering profanities about the white haired menace.

his incessant knocking on your door was adding to your rising blood pressure. “heyyyy! hey! cmon, don’t be difficult. let’s talk about this!” he calls your name multiple times, each time his tone getting progressively less and less playful.

gojo whines your name from behind the closed door. “…are you going to make me wait here all night? At least get your wounds fixed by shoko!” 

of course you were. he could rot there for all you care, it’s what he deserved. 

“You can’t keep running forever, babe!” 

you hear his persistent knocks, echoing the beat of your heart.  

“look if you don’t open the door, i’m going to blue it open in three, two, on-“ 

It’s so like him to force your hand.

you rip open the door, hot tempered and ready to tear into him. standing in front of you, his foot was tapping, gojo’s patience wearing thin.  

“what? gonna try and blue me again tonight?” you spit out, resentment dripping from your voice. you would have rather been caught in the crossfire than rely on him. 

He scoffs. His hands frustratingly fluffing his already messy hair. when you looked into his eyes, the blue was stormy electric, his presence oozing with frustration. 

he scoffs. "please, I knew where you were. you were being reckless. If i hadn’t showed up-“

“I was being reckless?” you step towards him, temper showing. “How would you know, you didn’t even let me try! i didn’t need your fucking help! and then you – you show up –unannounced –  to my mission, and –“ you turn your back to him clenching your fists. You were showing too much - you had to control yourself.  You didn’t want him to see you like this. you had to reign in the storm that brewed within you, the same one that you saw currently in his eyes.

“yaga said you were missing for 4 hours. if I hadn’t shown up you could’ve gotten yourself fucking killed, ba –“ he adds taking a step closer to you. you whip your face towards him, meeting him half way , your face right up against his, noses almost touching. The tension is thick, his condescending tone stomping on what little control you had.

“don’t you fucking dare call me babe.” you whisper, dangerously challenging the strongest. “youre so full of yourself that you can’t even see what you’ve done wrong.”

his eyes dart to your lips, and back up to your furious face, his cheeks blushing for millisecond before his eyebrows further slant down to match his lips. 

he spits out your name with malice, a warning, his cursed energy being to swirl dangerously. his eyes narrow, 

“just swallow your fucking pride and say thank you for your help, gojo and move on -“

he’s so close that you feel his frustration, you feel the tenseness in his muscles, the tightness in his jaw, the thinness of his lips

“thank you?” laugh humourlessly, your bruised ego poisoning your rational mind. “you know what your problem is?” You tense your jaw. “you always think you know better.” Your eyes narrow, “you just don’t fucking care as long as you’re right do you?”

“what the hell are you talking about– why would I still be here if I didn’t care!?”

“you don’t - do you fucking pity me? Is that it, gojo? you think that im so weak that I can’t take out some stupid curse by myself? that I can’t even win against my own mind?” you take a step back, turning away from him, insecurity consuming you. you rope your arms around yourself, unable to hold back your finely controlled feelings back from him.  “you think I want to hear the screaming of people i failed to save? How I see them dying?” you couldn’t look at him. you want to beat at his chest, make him understand what he’s done, but you were too embarrassed that he not only destroyed the curse in Hiroshima but your pride and ego as well. You hated how he made you feel this way, how you he made you lose control in his presence.

“what?! that’s not –I didn’t know-  “ his eyes flashing. 

you had enough. he was too much. he was always too much.

“I don’t need help. I don’t need your pity. And I sure as hell don’t need you.”

something in gojo’s stomach drops, barriers breaking, white anger over taking his thoughts. 

“fine, fucking fine! next time babe, i’ll just stand by and watch you get slaughtered- ” 

“you should have left me to die then, save yourself the trouble! looks like you regret your decision.” you counter deathly calm, not sparing him a second glance before slamming the door in his face. 

through the closed door you hear him sigh heavily before his retreating footsteps signal his leave. 

you watched the shadows move across your wall, how long has it been now? 

tossing and turning, you dramatically sigh: you couldn’t sleep. giving up, you decided to grab your phone to check the time: 2:17 AM.

sighing you rub your face with your hand, you grab your phone and irritatingly shift the covers off of you. you feel your stomach rumble. maybe if you ate something you’d be able to get some sleep. as your socked feet stomp across your dark room, your mind wanders, would you have been able to take down that curse if he hadn’t shown up?  afraid of your answer, you wrench open your door, you stumble at the mass of sanrio plasters, disinfectant and gauze left at the foot of your door. 

you blink owlishly. ah. gojo.

your gaze softens slightly, before irritation returns at the echo of his scalding words. grabbing the medical supplies you put them on your desk before shutting the door once more. 

heading to the kitchen, you turned on the lights idly.

opening the fridge, you sigh. moving over geto's neatly labelled kimchi fried rice and shoko's half empty strawberry milk, you take out some chicken, potatoes, carrots and onions.  you could've gotten yourself killed, he said.

grabbing a pot you sear the chicken, ensuring that there was even browning before adding the prepared vegetables. 

you were reckless, he said. that was the first time you’ve seen gojo so irritated at you. his eyes looked so different, no playful glint complimenting blue, no bounce in his step, no humour in his tone. 

reckless, my ass.

you roughly add some water to the pot before adding the curry cubes. 

why did he have look at you like that when he showed up anyway? 

closing the lid you wait for it to simmer as you take out some leftover rice from the fridge, moving it to a dish to heat in the microwave. you tapped your fingers on the countertops, mind still restless.

suddenly the kitchen door swings open. wide eyes meeting tired blue. gojo looks unusually worn and tired, his back slightly hunched over. a stand still, a pregnant pause, eyes meeting unsure of how to start a conversation. it's awkward. he opens his mouth before the beeping of the microwave interrupts him. 

“i’ll.. i’ll go,” he says in a low voice. through his hardened expression you can detect that his eyes void of irritation, fatigue replacing it. he sheepishly fluffs the back of his hair, your eyes spot his loose tshirt riding up uncovering his toned abdomen. 

gojo turns his body to leave, but your feet lead you to him. out of your own accord you find that your arm quickly reaches for him. you grab the back his bicep to stop him in his tracks.

“..was it you? the uh.. medical supplies?”

“..yeah.” be gulps, unsure if he should prepare for another fight. he cant help but notice how sweet you look - messy hair, comfortable clothing, a soft frown painted on your face. you were usually so controlled, seeing you this way felt almost forbidden. a secret that he wanted to keep for himself.

“.. thanks.” a quiet thought.

eyebrow raised, he turns back toward you, “I knew it…” he mutters, a playful grin slowly appearing on his face - the first bright smile to melt the ice away. 

“i knew you liked me! don’t worry babe, we can be best friends, I know you've been silently begging for-“ 

your eye twitches. you quickly drop your hold on him, slow hands moving up to his pale neck to strangle him, your expression unwavering. gojo senses your rising cursed energy before yelping your name, “it’s a joke - I swear I’m joking!”  you turned around, hands morphing into closed fists. closing your eyes, you massaging your temple before stirring the simmering curry. 

“.. hey.. uh- whatcha makin?” he asks, hesitantly moving closer to you.

“… what?” he’s relieved find no aggression in your eyes.

“i’m making chicken curry. Uh.. sit,” you say “if you want,” you add hastily. 

reaching to grab another bowl for him, you hear gojo take a seat at the kitchen table. watching you curiously, he drums his fingers on the kitchen table, an unsteady rhythm. feeling warm at his gaze, you split the warmed up rice and spoon out the simmering curry into the two bowls. handing him chopsticks and spoon, you set down his bowl of food in front of him as he says his thanks. a peace offering, one that you don’t realize that he’s been wanting the minute you slammed your door. 

the meal is silent, hung in limbo, two large egos taking up the space. you savour the way the curry tastes, mild and satisfying but with an underlying sweetness to it, lurking in the background waiting to be appreciated. you watch gojo’s satisfaction as he spoons the rich curry into his mouth, you notice his knee bouncing up and down. 

was he nervous? 

he clears his throat. “...another one of your mom’s?” he asks conversationally.

“yeah. the first one she was really proud of.” you spoon some curry into your mouth, chewing thoughtfully. 

“yeah it’s really good. was it your favourite?”

“not my favourite but.. it reminds me of her. she kept remaking the recipe until she got it right, she always said something tasted like it was missing…” 

“eh, really? what was it?”

“nothing, everything was there. it was like.. a miscommunication with the person who gave her the recipe over the phone. mom got the measurements wrong.“

concentrating on eating, you look up at gojo to see him already staring back at you. 

“i was.. you need to focus, you’re going to get hurt.”

you sigh irritatedly. “gojo, just leave if you’re gonna be-“ you shoot him a look, curling defensively inwards.

his tired eyes widen in surprise, he feels you retreating, slipping like water through his fingers. “no, no, no- just listen...”

something in his tone begs you to listen, curiosity getting the better of you. you hesitate, unsure of his intentions.

“i just knew that you couldn’t sleep.. I didn’t know it was - and I didn’t want.. I mean like - last time you came back injured…and you….” his ears tinging pink. words spilling out clumsily, venturing into unknown territory.

wait was he.. was he worried? is that why he showed up - you slightly blush with realization. you sigh, what a waste of energy. he shouldn’t worry about you, you weren’t worth worrying over when you knew he had so much on his plate already.

“i’m working on it. I was doing just fine.” you say irritatedly, walls crumbling at his words.

“yeah, but y’know one day you won’t be.” he says as he takes off his dark glasses rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“that doesn’t mean you can show up to my missions.” 

“I won’t anymore, if you dont want me to…” he retorts in a chipped tone.

“…you don’t have to worry about me.”

he rolls his eyes in response. “i don’t have to but I do. i want to.” you wither under his gaze, you felt too warm, the air thick with something other than the scent of curry.

“you can run all you want, but i can always find you.” he says with a shrug and an air of finality. “… and, one day you might seriously need help, babe” he slides his glasses back on his face.

“… i need to learn from my mistakes even if that means I get hurt.” You say softly to yourself. you wanted to improve, if you were stronger they wouldn’t have -

you swallow roughly.

“there are ways to learn that don’t involve pain, yknow?” he says, with a mouthful as he scrapes the bottom of his dish with his spoon.  blue eyes challenging yours as his dark glasses slide down his slender nose. 

you hum thoughtfully, mulling over his words.

a long finger pokes your cheek irritatingly. “where’d you go babe? OooooooOoOoOh gonna cry, huh? I know, I know it’s our first fight, it’s hard - I almost cried too.” he clutches his chest dramatically while poking your cheek.

why was he always so close? 

“god, you’re insufferable.” You slap his hand away with a scowl, while he grins fully. you’re surprised that you’re happy to see it again. 

he snickers as he promptly gets up to put your empty dishes in the sink. you sigh, getting up to tidy up the counters. gojo starts humming the digimon theme song to himself but when he notices a ghost of a smirk on your face it prompts his humming to progressively grow louder and louder until he’s enthusiastically singing. a new comforting warmth spreads across gojo’s chest at your smile, he wonders if he could make you smile everyday. only when he starts doing an interpretive dance to accompany his singing is when you move to you smack his chest.

  “shhhh! You might wake the others up! It’s like almost 4 AM!” You hiss, unable to contain your laughter when he tries to get you to dance with him blocking your attempts to put away the left over vegetables into the fridge. gojo easily side steps your slaps to move behind you to finish clearing up the table. you turn around in time to see gojo quickly placing your phone back down. you narrow your eyes suspiciously. 

sensing your questioning gaze he quickly skips toward you. “pfff you just act like a meanie but deep, deep down I know you love me!” he says wiggling his eyebrows.

“uh huh. sure, keep dreaming, gojo,” not looking at him, concentrating on tidying up the kitchen.

halting your cleaning, gojo sneaks up behind you swing his arm around your shoulder, squeezing you slightly. your cheeks flush at the feeling of his firm arm around you, the softness in his tshirt against your face, his smells like a mixture of the ramune candy he always eats in class and the fresh scent of his laundry.

“y’know babe, i don’t want you dead.. that was a shitty thing of you to say.” the words spill out, voice low and soft, something that he didn’t know how to express falling out clumsily.

you hum in acknowledgement. unconsciously you lean into his touch, the familiar warmth radiating off him comforting you. your apology evident in the way you react to his touch, gojo grins fully.

“mhm… thanks for the curry, babe,” he says softly in your ear, too intimately. you turn to meet his gaze, there was something there that you couldn’t discern.

heh, probably his body thanking you for giving him vegetables for the first time this week. you smirk.

“see? told ya - you love me” he playfully whispers. you blink, smirk disappearing instantly.

this fucking asshole.

you roughly shove him off you, earning a laugh from the white haired menace. breaking whatever …. that was.  huh. weird.

he ruffles your hair affectionately as you hiss his name in annoyance. flashing you another grin as gojo practically sings good night to you as he waltzing out of the kitchen. you glare at his retreating figure.

feeling lighter, you turn off the lights in the kitchen walking down the dark halls to room, closing the door gently. you move to sit at your desk to disinfect your shallow wounds, absentmindedly choosing a cinnamoroll bandaid to put on your right bicep.

clearing up, you hear your phone vibrating with in a string of messages.  you grimace.

 oh god that’s what he was doing. 

💙🎀 MY BB SATORU 🎀💙

physically recoiling at his contact name, you fight the urge to throw your phone across the room. you called him neither of those things. you quickly move to change it. 

gojo:  b <3 i know u can handle urself  just msg me when u r safe next time or if u need me just lmk lol (4:11am)

you roll your eyes. typing in a response before deleting it, instead replying with:

you: k (4:16am) 

you yawn as you make your way into your cold bed, undoing the half made covers, grabbing one of your pillows to fully sink into comfort. your eyebrows raise at gojo’s quick response, your phone singing.

gojo: ૮(╥﹏╥)ა.  ur so mean 2 me b  (4:16am) thought we were  finally bffs  dw we have loads of time 2 get closer tmr (4:17am) (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ gud nite <3 <3  (4:18am)

turning to feel for Bun Bun laying on the other side of the bed, you sigh contently as you feel his plush body. you place your phone on the night stand table beside you as you shut your eyes. an insistent vibration causes you to groan, disturbing your growing drowsiness.

gojo: heyyyy  (4:20am) hey don’t ignore me? lol  say gudnite!!11! b omg  say gud (4:21am) nite  omg stopppp !! ૮(╥﹏╥)ა (4:22am) mfw b hates me  (4:23am)

scoffing you lazily type out a response since he was begging you for one. Bun Bun's plush pink arm against your cheek, mimicking gojo's earlier actions.

you: omfg go to bed gojo

gojo: (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) SAY IT  B CMONNN SAY IT IM GONNA CRY IF U SONT (4:21am) ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡ (4:22am)

biting your lip to prevent the grin you threatened to escape, an amused smile makes its way onto your tired face. he was ridiculous.

you: nite  (4:24am)

gojo: (◡ ‿ ◡ .) ♡ gud enuf 4 me  nite <3 <3  (4:25am)

hugging Bun Bun, you silence your phone as you settle in comfortably, blankets settling finally. the last thing you think about before drifting to sleep is the way he felt when he had his arm around you. you huff softly, what an idiot.

a/n: i totally see gojo as someone who does not give a fuck and will triple text you. omg this chapter was difficult to write, but i hope y'all enjoy it -- head image credit: Isekai Shokudo dividers from: @/adornedwithlight

[delulujuls]

birds of a feather | joost klein

hi, its me again. i know its been a hot minute since i posted here but literally i have no idea when the past month left.

anyway, im alive and i finally got a chance to write something, so here it is. its nothing that i used to post here i guess, but i it means a lot to me. while writing this i remembered all of those dark days that i managed to survive. and i guess, joost himself did too.

please, if you struggle with mental health or you just dont feel good at that moment, i do not recommend to read this. feel free to text me if you need to talk to someone.

remember that you are not alone. you can get trough everything as long as you have you.

je bent sterker dan je denkt

summary: joost is struggling with his mental health, but so do reader. but together its a bit easier to go through storm and its even better to look at the rainbow with someone dear by your side.

warnings: struggling with depression, ed, parents loss

pairing: fem!bff!reader x joost klein

Snow fell throughout the night, so the next morning, all of Leeuwarden woke up under a heavy, white blanket.

However, some didn’t get the chance to wake up because they hadn’t managed to close their eyes at all. One of those people was a girl laying down with open eyes in her dark room.

Despite having no desire, motivation, or strength, after a while she sat up in bed more than an hour before her alarm was set to go off. She wrapped herself in the blanket and closed her aching eyes. It felt as if someone had poured two bags of sand under her eyelids.

Her room was in complete darkness, with only the warm, yellow light from a streetlamp filtering in through the uncovered window. The whole house was silent, and nothing outside suggested that anyone else existed in the world but her. She could hear her tear-stuck eyelashes pulling apart with each blink.

She sighed heavily and rubbed her face with her hands before finally getting out of bed. She couldn’t afford to skip class; she had already accumulated too many absences recently. The last thing she wanted was to deal with her teacher, who kept repeating the same thing over and over— that she should talk to her parents, that she would call in a psychologist. Just let me live, woman, she thought. Or better yet, let me die.

With a soft groan of displeasure, the girl pulled off her warm sweats and quickly put on an uncomfortably cold shirt and hoodie. The jeans she put on were also unpleasantly cold and stiff. The chill around her cut to the bone.

When she went to the bathroom and turned on the light, she squinted with a grimace. She shuffled over to the mirror and looked at her reflection. Nothing surprising stared back at her. Puffy, red eyes from crying, chapped lips, and skin irritated from a runny nose. She sighed and looked down, tying up her hair and turning on the tap, trying to make herself somewhat presentable.

When she finished, she didn’t look much better. The last thing she felt like doing was putting on makeup. A shower from the previous evening was the best she could manage. Before going downstairs, she grabbed her backpack and phone, glancing at the screen. Beside the clock, it was empty. Worried that maybe WhatsApp had failed, she opened the app and clicked on her last conversation. Joost hadn’t replied to her messages since the night before. She sighed and shoved the phone into her pocket. She knew she wouldn’t go straight home after class.

Not feeling like eating breakfast, she simply put on her shoes, jacket, and left the house. It was even colder outside, so she pulled her hood over her head and wrapped herself in a scarf. She couldn’t wear gloves—how else would she change songs, she thought, putting her tangled earphones in.

Even more snow had fallen than it seemed when looking out the window. It was still early, so the streets were covered in snow. The walk to the bus stop was exhausting. When she finally reached it, she realized she still had plenty of time to spare. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and took a drag. She pulled out her phone from the other pocket, changed the song, and opened her conversation with Joost again. Nothing had changed.

you could at least read my messages. that way, id know if you were alive 06:50

She typed with frozen fingers, holding the cigarette between her lips. The girl exhaled the smoke and sent the message, glancing at the cracked screen of her phone with faint hope. Nothing.

The phone that received the message vibrated on the bed. Its owner, however, wasn’t there but on the floor. Joost lay on the ground, staring at the ceiling. He tried to focus on breathing. Only on breathing. Only on surviving.

He had no idea what time it was, how long he had been lying there. Had he made it through the night, or was it still yesterday, or maybe already tomorrow? On both sides of his head were small, wet spots from the tears that had spilled from his heavy eyelids. He was like a defeated, fallen Gulliver, his tears carving out lakes.

He didn’t feel the cold, didn’t feel the pain in his back. He didn’t feel how badly his head hurt from crying or the emptiness in his stomach. He couldn’t remember when he last ate something warm, despite his sister and brother's urging, when he last took a shower, or held his phone. When was the last time he actually spoke to someone? A few hours ago? Or last month?

If looks could drill holes, there would already be a small but precise one in his ceiling. Only when he heard a knock on the door did he snap out of it. It was morning, and his room was filled with light. He had survived the night.

“I’m heading to work, want a ride to school?” his sister’s voice came from behind the door.

It took him about five seconds to remember how his vocal cords worked.

“No, I’ll manage.”

“Are you planning to stay home?”

Silence. On both sides of the door.

“I don’t want to have your school on my back, okay? You’ll go back to class after the weekend.”

Joost sighed in relief, closing his eyes.

“Thanks, really.”

“There’s breakfast on the table,” he heard her footsteps fade away. “Eat something!”

At that moment, he regained consciousness. With great effort, he managed to sit up and lean his back against the bed. He rubbed his face with his hands and clenched his fists in his hair. After a moment, he sighed and looked ahead. The clock on the bedside table showed a few minutes before eight. He hadn’t even heard whether his brother had returned from the night shift. It was as if he’d been in a trance all night, focused only on the passing seconds, taking minute by minute, hour by hour.

When he managed to climb back into bed, he pressed his cheek against the cold pillow and instinctively reached for the phone lying nearby. In the flood of notifications, he noticed more than ten messages from his friend. He felt a pang of guilt.

He swiped and entered their conversation.

you know we can always talk. you dont have to deal with this all on your own 00:21

i know. thanks 00:46

That was the last message he had replied to.

apparently you dont know, because youre doing it again 00:54

you always shut yourself off and dont let anyone in. why cant you understand that you matter to someone? 00:55

you act like youre deliberately torturing yourself, like you purposely want to take on all the fucking pain and show that only you are suffering. surprise, youre not the only one 01:00

im sorry. i didnt mean it like that. its just been hard for me too lately, and im worried about you. i didnt want to say that. im sorry.. 01:12

i want to help you, but i dont know how. how am i supposed to do that if you wont let me? 01:18

i cant imagine losing you, do you understand? 01:19

for fucks sake, theyd bury us together. i couldnt make it without you 01:20

let me help you, please. or at least dont shut me out 04:29

im worried, joost. please reply 13:54

Missed calls x7

you could at least read my messages. as it is, i dont even know if youre alive 06:50

im alive. im sorry 08:01

He replied, staring at the screen. He read her messages several times. He knew he could rely on her, that he mattered to her. But on the other hand, he couldn’t accept it. Him? Someone cared about him? Hey, wasn’t he just the funny, slightly chubby kid who always told silly jokes and made everyone laugh? That he had problems? What kind of problems could a teenager like him have?

She, however, knew that Joost had been through a lot. Losing his parents year after year can break anyone, let alone someone like him. Since she had met him in high school, Joost had always seemed like an extrovert, the center of attention, telling the funniest jokes with his booming voice. But beneath the surface, which he had built himself, lay an incredibly sensitive boy with a big heart. He was the kind of person children smiled at, and dogs ran up to for a pet.

Joost was like a gentle giant. He could pretend that nothing bothered him, that dumb jokes or words thrown around in laughter didn’t hurt. But every one of those words or situations lodged itself tightly in his mind like a pack of rats that couldn’t be driven out for anything. It was as if his body lacked the receptors for anger or aggression. He wished everyone he knew well, but the feeling wasn’t always mutual.

When he was younger, not long after his parents died, he was often mocked for being an orphan. The mean comments and jabs were so hurtful that he stopped attending classes. When someone pointed out that he seemed to have put on a bit of weight recently, he went a week eating nothing but apples, drinking water and smoking cigarettes.

Now, even though some time had passed since then, and he had been through several rounds of therapy, he still had periods like this. When all he wanted was to be alone and let the cold embrace of sadness surround him. To rest his head on the bony shoulder of depression and weep bitterly.

But it wasn’t to be, as he suddenly flinched, hearing something hit his bedroom window. He realized he had lost touch with reality again and had been staring at his phone’s dark screen for who knows how long.

Thinking he had misheard, he settled more comfortably on his pillow.

The girl squeezed the snow harder in her hands, forming a snowball. She took aim and threw it at his window again. When Joost replied to her message, she knew she had to seize the moment. She had skipped the last two classes and immediately went to her friend’s house. She wasn’t leaving until she talked to him.

She took aim again and threw another snowball at the window. This time with success, as moments later, she saw Joost looking out.

He wasn’t sure whether to believe his eyes, but his friend tapped her finger on her wrist, signaling that she had been waiting long enough. The corner of Joost’s mouth involuntarily twitched upwards, and he quickly went to open the door. He knew that if he didn’t, this psycho would keep throwing snowballs until the window broke, and she’d climb in through the tree. He preferred to avoid that.

He unlocked and opened the door, but before he could say anything, she threw herself around his neck and hugged him tightly. She was cold, and her hair smelled like frost, but she was so alive, so different from the bony arms of depression.

“Don’t do that again,” she mumbled, holding him close.

Joost felt all the air trapped in his lungs release as he closed his eyes. He wrapped his arms around his friend, resting his cheek on her head.

"You're letting the cold in," he said after a moment, trying to lighten the mood as the wind blew snowflakes inside. "Come on, get inside."

A few moments later, the two friends were in Joost's room. It was clear that cleaning up was the last thing on his mind. The girl glanced around and silently began picking up the scattered clothes from the floor.

"Please, leave it," Joost groaned, collapsing onto the bed. "I'll do it later."

"If you're not going to help, then go take a shower," she replied, putting the relatively clean clothes back into the closet and setting the dirty ones aside near the door.

"I'll do that later too," he mumbled, rubbing his face with his hands. Only now did he start to feel how utterly exhausted he really was.

"We both know how that will go," she said pointedly, casting a glance his way. He sighed, feeling her gaze on him.

"I'm too tired. I just can't."

The girl hung up his coat and sat next to him. Joost looked at her face. Only now did he notice her puffy, swollen eyes, sunken cheeks despite the rosy flush from the cold, and chapped lips. He recognized the look.

He immediately recalled one of the messages she had sent him. You're not the only one suffering.

"What happened?"

He furrowed his brows and sat up, studying her face carefully. She knew exactly what he meant. Joost saw the same exhaustion in her that she often saw in him.

She sighed and lowered her gaze.

"I haven't been feeling great these past few days. But you probably know what I mean."

This time, it was his turn to lower his gaze. He didn't know what to say.

He didn't need to say anything.

She moved closer and hugged him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Joost desperately hugged her back, holding her in a bear-like grip.

"I'm sorry," he muttered after a while, still holding her. His voice trembled. "I should be supporting you, but instead, I'm just a burden. It's the only thing I'm good at."

"You're not a burden, Joost," she protested, pulling back slightly to look at him, emphasizing her words. "We should be supporting each other. No one else will understand us better than we understand each other. We're in this together."

At some point during her words, two large tears rolled down Joost's cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry," he said, burying his face in his hands, knowing that those two tears were just the beginning. On top of feeling miserable, guilt now added to the weight. It's not that he was unaware of his friend's struggles with mental health—he knew, just as she knew what he was going through. On most days, both of them were cheerful and lively, the life of the party. But sometimes, for a few days, a week, or even two, their light would go out. Depression was a grim lighthouse keeper.

She hugged him again, holding him tightly. Joost clung to her as if she were a lifeline.

"Everything will be okay," she whispered, stroking his hair.

"Everything will be okay," he echoed. "We'll get through this."

They sat there in silence for an undefined amount of time, wrapped in each other's arms.

"I'm not joking about that shower," she said after a while. "I guarantee you'll feel better."

Joost sighed and pulled away from her, nodding. He stood up and went to his closet, grabbing some clean clothes.

"You don't have to clean up, really," he said, glancing at her one last time before reaching for the door handle.

"And wash your hair too," she replied, standing up and continuing to organize his clothes. She looked at him and gave him a small smile, nodding her head to tell him to go and not to worry about the rest.

"Thank you," he returned her smile and went to take a shower.

When he came back, he looked much better. He also felt better. His room no longer resembled a battlefield. Clothes and trash no longer littered the floor, dirty dishes were gone, and the bed was made. But his friend was nowhere to be seen.

Joost peeked out of the door and, hearing movement in the kitchen, went downstairs. His friend was putting dishes into the dishwasher.

"This is probably for you," she said, pointing to some sandwiches wrapped up on the counter.

"I doubt I can eat anything," he replied, glancing apologetically at her. After a moment, he wondered if she had eaten. She also had trouble with eating sometimes. "But I'll eat if you eat with me."

"That won't be enough for us."

"I know, but we can make pancakes."

The girl smiled at his suggestion and nodded.

A few moments later, the kitchen filled with the smell of frying pancakes and the sound of easy conversation. The kind of conversation that, after a storm, offers a glimpse of normalcy. Joost flipped the pancakes while his friend sliced fruit they had found in the fridge. The warm atmosphere began to chase away the heavy clouds.

They weren’t alone. Even when they craved solitude, they weren't isolated. They had each other.

The girl unintentionally glanced at her friend, and noticing his damp bangs falling into his eyes, she pushed them back from his forehead with a gentle hand. Joost smiled at her gesture, unable to help it. She smiled too.

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone Can't change the weather, might not be forever But if it's forever, it's even better

Neither of them said it aloud that afternoon, but in the quiet corners of their minds, they both thought how grateful they were to have each other.

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Chapter 6/?)

(i'm so sorry for the long wait! I've been dealing with some mental health issues lately and had no motivation to write. but don't worry I'm back on my meds and am feeling much, much better. I'm gonna try to get a chapter out once every 2 weeks because I have another fic I'm gonna work on now too. if you haven't voted in my poll yet please do if you want your choice to win! alright enough about me let the chapter begin!!!)

112 ac 

Alicents pov

I watch as you, Rhaenyra and Lady Laena ride your dragons. My heart about leaps from my chest when you command Stormchaser to roll through the air. You had been learning and practicing new tricks wth her so I shouldn’t be surprised that you are now doing the ones you were cleared to do by the Prince and the Dragonkeepers. Though that knowledge does not help my fears.

“What are their names again?” Rhaenyra’s new lady in waiting Lady Myrielle Greyjoy asks.

“The yellow one is Syrax, she is the Princess Rhaenyras dragon. The grey one is Moonfyre, she is the Lady Laenas. And the white one is Stormchaser, she is the little Princess’s.” I say pointing to each.

She hums before turning to me again. “How often will we be expected to be waiting here as they are up there?” She asks.

“Well it depends, with Princess Rhaenyra you would be expected to do so each time. But the little Princess and Lady Laena it would depend if they invite you to watch. Rarely are the two Princesses in th sky at the same time, but the Princess Rhaenyra wished to try and stay out of the council meeting and this is usually the time Lady Laena and the little Princess fly and try their new tricks.” I respond just as Rhaenyra lands climbing off Syrax.

“So I have always to come out when she flies?” Myrielle’s little sister Nymeria Greyjoy asks as she points to Stromchaser.

I nod to Nymeria as I climb onto the steps in front of the carriage waiting for Rhaenyra. 

“Syrax is growing quickly, she’ll be the size of Caraxes soon enough.”

“That's almost large enough to saddle two.” She says boredly as you and Lady Laena land climbing off your dragons with the help of Dragonkeepers. 

“I’m quite content on the ground, thank you, but perhaps the Lady Myrielle would join you.” 

“Oh no, I much prefer the ground as well, thank you for the offer though.” Myrielle answers quickly.

I watch as Nymeria walks past Rhaenyra to greet you and Laena. The three of you seem to be talking animatedly about something, though most children speak such ways even if it is just about bread. Though that doesn’t mean it doesn’t bring a smile to my face hearing your excited chatter.

You run over to me smiling and exclaim. “Did you see me Ali? Did you see my new tricks? Kepus showed me the rolling one!” 

It is moments like this that I wonder how I can love you as a mother would her own child when you did not come from my womb. There are days I swear I had made you, for how else could this love I feel for you be real if not? I know it is just my heart telling my brain lies, but the thought never ceases to bring a smile to my face. For you are so sweet, so kind, so gentle, just like that beast of yours. I know I had not birthed you, but that does not mean you are not my girl. I hate to even think it but I raised you, not the Queen, not wet nurses, me. It is these thoughts and feeling that have always kept me going even when my mother died, when my father was cruel, when I felt nothing more than a waste of space.

“I did you wer-” I start to say until Rhaenyra cuts me off.

“Yes, we all saw you. Now may we go I don’t wish to get into more trouble than I alreadymost likely am.” Rhaenyra says as she climbs into the carriage.

Myrielle turns to look at me ready to ask the question I know she’ll ask the one each new lady in waiting asks. Is she always like this? I only whisper “Later.” and climb in with Myrielle with you, Laena, and Nymeria following behind us. 

Once the carriage starts to move you and your friends look out the window looking at the market and side shows as we pass. Rhaenyra is telling the story of her first flight to Myrielle, but every now and then you girls get a bit to loud for her liking. The only ones of you who seems to be reacting is Nymeria, the only one who isn’t used to Rhaenyra’s chilling gaze. 

It is a sad thought, that you and Laena are used to your sisters venomous words and hateful gaze that now it doesn’t bother you anymore. That it is your normal, that it is no longer something youfear but something you ignore.

It is these moments that make me hate Rhaenyra, the spoiled girl she is. She wishes for a sister this time as well and yet seems to have magically forgotten the sister she already has. She speaks of wishing to fly with someone in races but when you have asked in the past she had only scoffed or out right laughed at you. She wants to be a warrior, and her parents would probably let her, but she complains at any exerting activities or when she is sweaty or dirty. She wanted to be apart of her fathers council, but actively avoids it stating she has funner things to do. The world is handed to her on a sliver platter, and then she is mad it isn’t gold or diamonds.

It is these things mixed with how she treats you, that make me hate her in my very deepest parts of my soul. So much so there are some nights I pray to the Mother for forgiveness until the sun kisses my skin with its morning rays. When this happens I know I never will stop hating Rhaenyra but I can still ask for forgiveness each night at the hour of the owl until my heart and soul finally feel free of the rage I feel each day because of the eldest princess.

When we make it to the Red Keep a gold cloak comes up to you, your uncle had bestowed him upon your care until a new Kingsguard comes along who can protect you. He bends down and whispers in your ear, it must be good news as you run off with a smile on your face leaving Laena and Nymeria behind in your excitement. 

As the guard follows you, me and Myrielle follow Rhaenyra as she wishes to see her mother before going to the council meeting.

“You know I hate you flying when I’m in this condtion.” The Queen says with a frown towards Rhaenyra.

 “You don’t like me flying while your in any condition.” She says with a eye roll.

“Your Grace.” Me and Myrielle say in sync.

The Queen turns to look at us greeting us each in turn. Myrielle seems anxious being in the same room as the Queen so I reach for her hand giving it a reassuring squeeze. She turns and gives me a thankful smile. 

“Is she kind? The Queen?” Myrielle whispers to me

“Yes, very kind. She is not called the Kind Queen for nothing.” I whisper back.

We’re brought out of our little conversation when we hear the Queen let out a annoye sigh.

“Go take a bath, you stink of dragon.” The Queen says annoyed at Rhaenyra and her behavior during their talk. Rhaenyra almost always leave the Queen annoyed and frustrated after her vistis.

Once we leave Rhaenyra walks ahead to go change quickly before going to the council chambers as she is already quite late.

Once we were alone Myrielle turns to look at me concerned. “Is the young Princess like the Princess Rhaenyra?” 

I know why she asks this, for she worries her little sister, who she raised for their mother was too ill. What if she is in the hands of a cruel and spiteful girl, how can she help her little sister from a girl like that? Especially if it is a Princess.

“No, she is kind, sweet gentle, giving, and quite playful. I think the only thing you need to worry about is if your sister can keep up with her and Lady Laena and their wild games and adventures. Those two are quite energetic so I hope Nymeria can keep up.” I say with a giggle at yours and Laenas antics. 

“Oh don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll keep up with them just fine.” she answered with a amused smile.

For some reason I know I have found a friend for life in the Lady Myrielle Greyjoy. I know I will not feel so alone anymore with her here, and I can see in her eyes she feels the same in this moment as well.

Your pov

I run towards the thorne room after my bath, I hear Ser Aldwin Sarwyck’s armor rattling as he tries to keep up. I burst open the throne room doors and smile when I see Kepus standing in the middle of the room smiling back at me. 

“Ser Aldwin, please wait here.” I say closing the throne room doors behind me.

“Has he been good to you while I was away?” Kepus asks smirking as I run towards him jumping into his arms,

“I missed you so much!” I say excitedly as he catches me holding me close.

He chuckles as he  carries me towards the throne and starts to climb the steps. “I missed you as well, ñuha riña. Though you never answered my question” 

“He’s nice, he doesn’t seem to like when I talk to him though, says he’s trying to keep me safe and I’m distracting him.” 

He hums at this and when I lookup at him,  he seems upset about something I said. 

“I’ve been being quiet around him more, not asking as many questions to him.” I reassure, but this doesn't seem to please him either as he sits on the throne and sets me on his lap.

“Enough of your guard hmm? I’ve heard you have a new lady in waiting, two in fact.” He says as he frowns as he moves my hair out of my face.

“Yes, Lady Nymeria Greyjoy, she’s ten, knows how to sing, dance and is very kind, oh and funny! She says the best jokes, me and Laena love her jokes! And Laena is very happy to be my lady in waiting because now she doesn’t have to leave.” I say excitedly. 

He smiles this as he inspects the braid my maid gave me this morning. “That’s lovely ñuha riña, it seems you have not one but two wonderful friends now.” 

I smile and nod as I touch the arms of the throne touching a ornate pomel of a sword. “Why are we on the throne? Were not supposed to be on the throne, this is Papas throne.” 

I hear him chuckle as he reaches into a pocket in his jerkin. “And why should’t we be? This is our families seat, and it may well be mine one day.”

“No, Papa says the baby in Mama’s belly is a boy and it’ll be his heir.” I say matter of factly remembering what Papa has said to me when I asked if I was getting a brother or sister.

“Hmm, and who told him this, the Maesters?” 

“No, Papa says he just knows. He said has had a dream of his child sitting the throne with someone sitting with them. He said there was fourteen candles in front of him.”

“A dream you say?” Kepus asks seeming deep in thought.

“Yeah, but Papa said he couldn’t see their face and that it was all blurry, but he knows his child must sit the throne or bad things will happen.” 

“Bad things?” Kepus asks as he lifts my hair up.

“That’s what he said, when I asked he said it wasn’t for little girls. Kepus when will I be a big girl?” I ask as I feel him rest something to my chest and try to clip it behind my neck. When I look down I see a beautiful garnet stone, I gasp and touch it and notice the necklace chain matches the metal on my wrist. 

“It’s Valyrian Steel!” I say excitedly as I tuen to face him.

“Yes it is, I left one in your sisters room it didn’t feel right not to find you one too. She better take care of hers as it’s quite fragile, I’m not finding her another because she’s careless. And don’t worry about getting older, there is plenty of time to see and learn the things of the world.”

“But I want to know them now Kep–” I start to say before the throne room doors open and Rhaenyra walks in fixing something on her next and messing with the neckline of her dress.

Ever since her fourteenth nameday shes been wanting to wear lower necked dresses. She also has been acting strange with boys, I’m worried because she seems to get something in her eye each time she talks to them s she blinks a lot each time she talks to them. 

“Uncle, it’s been a age since you’ve visited court.” Rhaenyra says which confuses me as yes I missed him but he was only gone a moon. 

“Yes well court is boring, I only come back to see my little sweetling.” Kepus responds as he stroke my hair.

“Well then why come back at all?” Rhaenyra says giving as she gives me a glare finally noticing me here.

“I already said why, your sister, though if you need more reason I heard your father was throwing a tourney in my honor.”

“That’s not for you, that’s for the baby!” I say with a giggle thinking Kepus is being silly.

“Hmm well can't it be for me as well?” Kepus asks with a amused smirk.

“I suppose, can it be for me too? Oh, and Mama too she’s the one she really should be celebrating!” 

“I don’t see why not, it is a celebration for our family and that does include you and your mother.” Kepus says as he touches the stone of my necklace.

“Yes it is, though I did not come here to hear of celebration for some babe, I came to thank you for this lovely necklace Uncle.” Rhaenyra says as she flicks her hair back showing her necklace. It also seems Rhaenyra has something in her eyes again as she’s blinking a lot.

Kepus stands from the throne and carries me down until we’re in front of my sister. “I’m glad you like it, that means my brother won’t be bothering me anymore about finding you a Valyrian Steel jewlery.” He says almost boredly.

“My father told you to give me this?” Rhaenyra says in a tone that makes me grip my Kepus’s jerkin.

“I believe I just said that niece.” 

Rhaenyra scoffs and turns around stroming out of the throne room. I don’t understand why she is upset, she got what she had asked Papa to give her, just from Kepus. I’ll need to ask Septa Martha about this in my leasons with her tomorrow.

I look up at my Kepus and see him already looking down at me. “Who did your hair today. it’s all in your face?” He asks as he tucks my hair behind my ear again.

“My new maid Gloria, she’s Ali’s age she said my hair is tricky.” I say as I touch the silver waves that at times curl.

Kepus chuckles and starts to walk out of the throne room. “Well lets go and fix this ‘tricky’ hair hmm?” I nod as I tell him all of my adventures while he was away.

Little did I or anyone else know, that, that day would be the last normal one to ever grace mine or their lives for a long, long time. But at least I’ll have my Kepus through all of it right…right?

Series Masterlist

Also the characters Nymeria and Myrielle are my Besties @sugutoad ocs so give her love for these magnificent characters!!

@ilikefelines @sugutoad @baybaybear1 @sachaa-ff @classicsimpforaaronwarner @mmogurl

This is what I see for the necklace Daemon gives Princess. I hope you all love it as much as I do!

also special thanks to @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I don't know what I'd do without you girly!

[strawwritesfic]

Kelvin!Spock x Female!Human!Reader: Mr. Right

Summary: When one door closes, another opens—perhaps the door you were meant to enter all along.

Warnings/Tags: Starship Enterprise; post-Star Trek Beyond; friends to lovers; breakup; almost kiss; counselor!reader; Star Trek: The Original Series references; Star Trek: The Next Generation references

Relationships: Spock/Reader; Spock & Nyota Uhura; past!Spock/Nyota Uhura; past!Kevin Riley/Reader

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Requester: @lovemesomeescapism

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Notes: For once, this is not a repost for this challenge…technically. I did write a response to the prompt "Mr. Right" ages ago, but when I was reposting, I decided that the Now You See Me one shot I wrote really wasn't worth keeping. Someone on Tumblr asked me for a Spock one shot, so I slipped him in as a replacement.

It's been a really long time since I finished something new. I realize that I am rusty. This is actually several drafts into attempts to write this one shot. For the first time ever, I actually cannibalized previous drafts while trying to get the meandering dialogue and point back on track. It still doesn't feel quite "right" to me, but it's probably going to take some time before I get back in the swing of things, and I'm ready to let this one go.

Mr. Right

Throughout Terra's history, human beings had sought the comfort of white noise. Quiet droning sounds proved beneficial for many aspects of mental health in the species. As a counselor on board the U.S.S. Enterprise, you'd recommended listening to white noise to dozens of fellow crewmates and patients alike. The best way to do this in the deep space you'd all been exploring for nearly five years was to turn everything in one's quarters down until the low hum of the ship's warp drive became audible. Many of those crewmates and patients reported back to you with decreased stress levels, improved mood, and a distinct uptick in ability to concentrate. Almost all of them said they got better sleep.

Now you learned that every single one of them had lied to you.

You'd spent the better part of the evening-adjacent hours lying face-down on your sofa, trying and failing to take a nap. The scratchy, standard-issue pillow beneath your face was soaked with tears. Your chest ached. Worst of all, any attempt on your part to get your mind off what upset you just ended with you crying harder. All the while, that awful rumble went on and on and on and on relentlessly, allowing you no respite long enough to drift off and forget your current predicament.

A chime cut through your misery. You paused without so much as lifting your head. As of three hours prior, you were officially off duty for the day. Nothing required you to answer the door unless an order came down from a superior officer, and they would call first. Probably it was only Uhura coming by to check on you. Having been through her own breakup during this voyage, surely she would understand when you didn't let her inside.

The chime sounded again, and with it came a surge of possibilities flooding your mind. What if your visitor was dealing with a crisis? Cases of PTSD had been on the rise since the events on Altamid. You could hardly ignore that in favor of your own small, personal crisis. Off duty or not, your role as a ship's counselor would not allow you to wallow in self-pity when someone might need your help.

As your boots hit the floor, you pressed one sleeve of your rumpled blue uniform to the corner of each eye. The gesture wouldn't do much to disguise what you'd been doing over the course of your time off, but you felt a little steadier afterward. Breathing deeply in and out helped too—until you hiccuped. But you could prepare yourself no more. Squaring your shoulders, you stood, walked over to the door leading to the corridor, and opened it.

Just outside stood the familiar, lanky figure of the ship's science officer. The second you spotted him, you wiped your sleeve across your face with greater urgency.

"You're not one of my patients," you said, "or Uhura."

"A very astute observation, Lieutenant [L Name]," Spock replied.

A long moment elapsed during which the two of you stared at one another. Several fellow crewmates in various uniform colors threw curious looks at his back as they passed by on their ways to wherever they were headed. Your friend, meanwhile, allowed a single dark eyebrow to drift toward his hairline. He clearly had no intention of moving on.

"What are you doing here?" you sighed at last.

The wayward eyebrow rejoined its brother. "Lieutenant Commander Uhura informed me that you left your office this afternoon in distress. I note that her assessment was an accurate one. If anything, you appear to be in more distress now than she described to me then."

You couldn't lie to Spock, not when you looked the way you looked after a crying jag like the one you'd just had. So you didn't bother to try. "Fine. I'm in distress. But really, Spock, it's not the kind of distress you can help with. I'm sure Captain Kirk will need you on a landing party any minute now, so if you'll excuse me—"

"Lieutenant Commander Uhura also informed me of the cause of your distress."

"Of course she did." Sometimes you wished your two friends were a little lighter on the "amicable" part of "amicable exes." "Let me guess: You came by to tell me that you told me so."

"As a Vulcan, I have no reason to rub my correct prediction in your face, if you will forgive the Terra colloquial."

You let out a wet laugh despite yourself. "You're pardoned."

"What I have done is stopped by the mess hall. If I am not much mistaken, ice cream is a traditional consolation food in these types of situations."

He produced from behind his back a number of different colored tapes. So startled were you that you found yourself unable to say anything. Never in a million years would you have imagined Spock of all people standing in front of you and offering you junk food of all things. Your silence went on for so long that he had to prompt you to speak:

"Was I incorrect in my understanding of how to handle Terran breakups?"

"No," you said, then, "I just didn't want you to find out about the breakup until I could pull myself together."

"I surmised as much, given that Lieutenant Commander Uhura found out about your circumstances before I did, although you and I are closer friends. It would have been more logical for you to contact me for assistance than her."

Vulcans as a whole were difficult to read. Even factoring in your education and training, as well as your friendship with Spock that had gone on for several years now, you could only guess his feelings the majority of the time. Not so then. Something about his tone made him sound hurt. Maybe you could chalk that up to projecting your own feelings onto him, but you couldn't risk that assumption.

"It's just that you warned me against dating Kevin," you explained. "As ship's counselor, I should have seen the end coming a kiloparsec away."

"Perhaps. But one might also say that your extensive proximity to the crew's emotions might cause some loss in objectivity on your part."

"So you're not here to make me feel worse?"

"I came for consolation purposes. That is all."

"Well, all right, then."

You stepped away from the doorway. Spock followed you in. He paused only long enough to press the button to close the door before he came to join you in your sitting room. A crate sat on the floor along his path, and he looked at you questioningly as he walked by it.

"Those are Kevin's things," you said.

"Expedient," he observed.

Normally, you might have tried to go for a little more decorum around him, but that day you didn't have the energy to do more than flop back onto your couch. At least you were upright. Spock, on the other hand, claimed a dignified perch at the end of your chair. The two of you certainly made an odd pair.

"He had so many hair products!" you burst out when the awkward silence turned unbearable. "I should have known we wouldn't work out. Who brings that much hair spray into deep space?"

"Humanity can hardly be expected to iron out all its flaws when you all cling so hard to your baser emotions."

"Do you mean Kevin's desire to look nice, or my need to be in a relationship?"

Spock blinked, then smoothly said, "In this case, I refer to your former beau's preoccupation with personal grooming."

"Right. Either way, I'm about ready to get rid of all my own baser emotions. Not feeling them would be a blessing." You got back to your feet and thrust one hand in Spock's direction. "Ice cream tape, please."

He offered one to you.

"Spock," you said warningly.

"I do not believe that heartbreak is an excuse to overeat. I only brought so many because I was unsure which flavor you would select."

The glare you leveled at him seemed to make him think better of lecturing you on the dangers of gluttony—as well it should have. This was the same glare that you gave Dr. McCoy when you were tired of listening to him. Unlike with Dr. McCoy, you smiled once Spock dropped the rest of the tapes into your outstretched hand.

"Thank you." You headed for your in-quarters food producer, then turned your head to ask over your shoulder, "What flavor do you want?"

"I do not require ice cream."

"Come on, Spock. If you're going to spend the evening commiserating with me, you have to have some ice cream, too. That's a critical part of the Terran breakup process."

One corner of his mouth twitched. "I'll have pistachio, then."

You fed the yellow-green tape into the slot. A quiet beeping noise covered the hum of the warp drive as the computer worked. While you waited, you flipped through the remainder of the flavors until you found the one you wanted.

"I don't think it would be a good idea for you to give up emotions," Spock said.

"Huh?" Frowning at him, you replaced his tape with yours. "Aren't you the guy that's been talking about doing the Kolinahr when we get back to Earth?"

"That's different. I am a Vulcan."

"Half Vulcan."

"Vulcan enough."

A shriller beep put an end to this potentially sticky subject. The ice creams were ready. You dumped the rest of the tapes in a basket next to the food producer, picked up the bowls, and brought them back to the living room. Spock took his with a grateful nod, though he waited until you sat down again before taking a bite.

"Maybe I'd be a better counselor if I didn't have emotions," you mused. "If I wasn't blinded by my own feelings, I could help the crew more with theirs. I shouldn't have the same problems as they do after all the studying I've done."

"While that may indeed make sense, it is hardly realistic. Besides, if you did not have your human emotions, you would no longer be the [Name] that I know, and I believe that I would miss her."

You couldn't help but smile around the spoon in your mouth. Popping that out, you said, "I bet you say that to all the Terrans you like."

"Hardly. In fact, that captain may benefit from an hour or two without his usual emotions."

"I appreciate you saying that, Spock."

"I am only speaking the truth. I have no intention of bolstering your ego artificially, even if doing so is a part of the Terran breakup process."

"I know." You slowly lowered your spoon back to the bowl, staring off into space. Something was dawning on you—something that might have dawned on you sooner had you not been so enthralled with your own feelings. "You know what else I appreciate? You coming here to help me today. Not every first officer would go out of their way for a ship's counselor like that."

Spock fixed you with an unblinking gaze as he said, "You mean a great deal more to me than most ship's counselors mean to their first officers."

"I don't care what Captain Kirk says. You sure know how to make a woman blush."

"I have had some practice with the activity."

"Remind me to thank Uhura later."

"Thank her for what?" Spock asked.

Maybe you were reading the signs wrong. Maybe you were just desperate. If he had to ask, you had to be wrong. But you took a deep breath anyway, and said, "Helping me realize that maybe the guy I've been looking for this whole time has been my best friend all along."

How could it have taken you this long to work it out? No one else spent as much time with you as Spock did, not outside of your office hours. It didn't matter if you were in the mess hall asking for a round of Fizzbin after dinner or you wanted a quiet night in your quarters. He always seemed to be there. You felt comfortable around him. Maybe you didn't always understand Spock; maybe Spock didn't always understand. But you didn't enjoy anyone's company the way you did his. And you had to wonder when your eyes met just then if he felt the same way, and if this coming-to-see-you-with-ice-cream thing was his way of showing you that.

"Well," he moistened his lips before going on, "I certainly feel that our relationship is founded more steadily upon mutual interests and desires than it is upon a passion for hair products."

You leaned forward. "You know, that sort of relationship sounds really appealing right about now."

"It does?" Spock shifted closer to you.

"I think it's about time that I dated someone whose first thought in the morning isn't beating me to the sonic shower, don't you?"

By that time, you both had come so close that it wouldn't have taken much more movement on either of your parts to touch lips. Your heart gave a painful leap inside your chest. Was this too much too fast? Even if you had just realized you'd had a thing for Spock for a while now, you had only just broken up with your last boyfriend that morning. Treating Spock as a rebound was the last thing you wanted to do. He didn't seem to mind, though. His mouth drew closer and closer to yours until you could feel his breath on your face.

The communicator in your room chirped. You jumped. Spock paused before sitting back up in his chair. Then you rose wordlessly, stepped over to the panel, cleared your throat, and pushed the button.

"[L Name]," you said.

"[Name]?" Uhura did not remark on how breathless you sounded, thankfully. "I need to talk to Spock."

"It's for you," you said unnecessarily. Spock had already reset his face into its typical blank mask and made his way to the communicator himself.

"Spock here. What is it, Lieutenant Commander?"

"Captain Kirk needs you on the bridge. We have a situation up here."

"What kind of a situation?"

"There's a former United States President floating outside the ship. He says he needs our help."

"I will be there right away."

A second chirp signaled that communications between your room and the bridge had ceased. Spock turned back to you.

"My presence is needed on the bridge," he said.

"So I heard."

"I apologize. I believe we were in the middle of something."

"It's all right."

He didn't move.

"Spock, go. Don't you want to know why a deceased historical figure has asked for the Enterprise's help?"

"I'd prefer to stay here," Spock said. "But you are correct. I must leave. Will you still be here later tonight?"

"Yeah." You surprised yourself with the eagerness of your answer. "Yeah, I will. I promise I won't run off with any other lieutenants while you're away. I'll save the rest of the ice cream. We can share it when you get back."

There it was: The slight curl to Spock's mouth that told you that you weren't making up the mutual attraction between you both after all. "To use another Terran phrase, it's a date."

He hesitated another moment longer before he quickly exited your quarter. You grinned as the door slid shut behind him and the white noise returned full force. As you sunk into your couch and pillow this time, you found you didn't mind the hum as much. In fact, the sound did exactly what it was supposed to do: Relax you. Kevin and his excuses from that morning felt farther away than your own home planet. Maybe you owed him a thank you, too, because if you were still with him, you wouldn't have slept as well as you did that night knowing that Spock would be back soon.

[nynnma]

HEYY is your req open?? If yes can i req yandere sprout & yandere cosmo x reader– I'M IN LOVE WITH YOUR WRITING BTW TEEHEE

YANDERE!SPROUT & YANDERE!COSMO X GN!READER

in which you’re being fed by cosmo and sprout…

FEATURING; sprout and cosmo from dandy’s world

WARNINGS; mentioning of kidnapping, drugging, crying, trauma, forced love, abuse and swearing

Fat tears fell from your eyes, wetting your eyelashes and blurring your vision in the process, as your pathetic sobs were muffled from the cloth wrapped around your mouth. “Oh baby, don’t cry, we’re almost finished cooking your favourite~” on your right, right beside you, Cosmo purrs into your ear, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. You flinch in response, almost trying to dodge Cosmo’s kiss.

Cosmo frowns at this, but walks around the counter to help Sprout finish cooking, leaving you strapped to the chair alone. Finding yourself alone as an advantage you try to wiggle out the ropes but their too tight, you try to move the chair but it’s screwed into the floor, you look around for anything sharp enough to cut the ropes but you find nothing…they really didn’t want you to leave.

Knowing you’re trapped you start to cry and sob more, not caring how pathetic you look, you accept your fate. “You’re still crying…” looking up you blink away the tears and make eye contact with Sprout, watching him with shaky eyes as he walks around the counter, cleaning his hands with a tea towel. Stopping right beside you, he grabs your jaw and starts to lightly dab the corner of the cloth on your eyes, drying your tears.

“Ugh, you’re such a mess” closing your eyes shut you don’t dare to open them even after Sprout stops drying your eyes, your overcoming fear of him taking over, your heart beating heavily against your chest. “Open your eyes” feeling his grip on your jaw tighten you close your eyes harder, hoping that he just leaves. Everything he did, he did it all, kidnapped you, drugged you, beat you…everything.

“Fine, be that way” letting go of your jaw harshly Sprout glares at you before turning away and walking back into the kitchen, where Cosmo comes out of with three plates. “Give me my plate” finally opening your eyes you watch Sprout hold out a hand in front of Cosmo. “What, why?” Cosmo tilts his head at him, “just give me the plate” sighing Cosmo holds out the plate towards him, Sprout taking it.

Cosmo continues his way to the counter, smiling softly at you in the process, “I’m back! Did you miss me?” Creasing your eyebrows at him you slowly shake your head. “Makes sense…” putting the plates down on the counter Cosmo sits in the chair beside you, picking up a fork with one hand and pulling the cloth covering your mouth down. “You know we mean no harm right?”

“I fucking doubt that” Cosmo frowns at your words but quickly shoves a piece of food into your mouth as you open your mouth, afraid you’ll say something negative. Pulling the fork out he gives you a small smile but you spit out the food. “Wh- come on, that’s a waste!” Shaking his head Cosmo sighs before picking up another piece of food and brings it up to your mouth, but you don’t budge.

“Please? It’s you’re favourite” Cosmo begs, “no, because it’s probably drugged” “I promise it isn’t” you don’t trust him, you never will, but the food looks so good and you’re starving…ugh who cares. “Fine, just be quick please I don’t want to be with you anymore longer” you felt more comfortable around Cosmo than Sprout, because he was soft on you and didn’t do anything when you misbehaved.

Smiling softly Cosmo didn’t waste time on feeding you, he deeply cared for your health, whether it was physical or mental. He always made sure it was good, he had to make sure it was good.

A/N - hey so…I literally did not know what else to write so I left it with that, also maybe in the future I will rewrite this and make it 10x better 😎 I think…

[longlivedelusion]

Hii, I saw you were doing requests for Marauders era things... Would you be keen to do a jegulus fic? would love to see them with a neurodivergent reader or something 💞 thank you !!! Ok if not comfortable

Thank you for your patience anon, if you're still around! Inspiration finally struck as I'm currently working through my own processes with my neurodivergent & mental health things. So I felt like what better time than now to write some fic therapy? Hope you enjoy! 🤍

The Art of Trying

Warnings: some angst and miscommunication. Good ending tho. My own personal portrayal of how neurodivergency shows up for me 🤍 but I know it's a spectrum for everyone. I'm no expert, just a human existing and trying.

James knew your routine well. He'd even adjusted some of his own so it could match up with yours well, which luckily didn't take too much effort given you were both early risers. Regulus, however, was the night owl of the three of you. He only woke up well after James and you had finished your morning tasks, and would work around the house quietly at night. But despite this, you'd all found a peaceful compromise in your daily lives so that this relationship could be at its absolute best. Thriving, he would say.

That was until Regulus got a new job that required him to be out by 8am. Which meant, a change in how you all lived and did things.

For James, the change was easy. He thrived with more people around, and waking up at the same time as his other partner felt like heaven. But for you... He knew this was a lot harder on you than you were admitting.

It started off fine, you also enjoyed the extra kisses and cuddles the first day, the second even. But James could tell that as you settled down after the excitement, the reality must have set in because you stopped making eye contact with them on the third day. Avoided their touches on the fourth.

By the end of the week, your voice turned cold.

"Can I please have some room." You mumbled out with a bit of an edge. Your body sliding carefully by Regulus's but not touching him. Reggie was making breakfast, some sort of omelette situation, but that meant there was cutting boards and cheeses and utensils all around and no space.

James was sitting at the breakfast nook with his coffee, reading over the Daily Prophet when he perked up at the tone.

"Of course darling," Regulus said, wand out immediately as he tidied up. "Apologies for that. Would you like an omelette?"

You grabbed your usual bowl, your yogurt, not even looking up to answer. "No thanks." You grabbed your things, saying a quick have a good day before you left for the bedroom and closed the door shut.

Now Regulus had been aware you were having a hard time adjusting, they'd anticipated it even. So he tried his best to accommodate your needs, but at the same time he had his routines as well. And he struggled the same, if not differently from too many changed to his own routine. James could tell the cold and distant attitude was affecting Reggie now as well, despite how patient he tried to be.

"Reggie y'alright?"

"No, James. I am not alright." Reggie sighed. "I feel like as if walking on glass, and by the time I get to work my day feels ruined. They barely look at me, barely talk. Anything I do I feel as if it's wrong and I cannot- I don't want to shut them out. I don't want to shut down." He took a shaky breath in.

James was up in a moment, wrapping Regulus up in his arms. "I know, I know." He paused, focusing on easing his partner while he thought. "Maybe it's time we talk about it again, yeah? I know we discussed the change before, but it's obviously affecting them and you both more than you expected."

Regulus sighed as he rested his head on James' chest. "I suppose your right. I miss them, James."

James' heart cracked, "I know baby, but we can fix it yeah? This is fixable."

James felt Reggie nod on his chest. "Yeah," he mumbled.

He pulled Regulus back by his arms, "Would you rather talk to them now or after work?"

Reggie paused before letting out a breath. "Now, please."

He nodded and took Reggie's hand into his own, making their way to your bedroom as James knocked on the door. "Lovely?"

"Yeah?" He heard you mumble from within.

"Can Reggie and I come in for a moment?"

There was a long pause, an obvious tell on your end that you were aware that there would be a conversation happening. He gave you space to mentally prepare, waiting until eventually you let out a soft "Sure."

As James opened the door, they found you with your bowl empty and your tea forgotten, instead your back sat straight against your bed while you twisted your fingers in the top sheet.

"We just wanted to check in for a bit. Mind if we sit?" James said.

"What's up?" You said in a forced, nonchalant tone. He noticed as your gaze focused on their interlocked hands.

"Darling, we've noticed you've been shutting down more lately, and we've just wanted to see how you're feeling if that's alright." James started.

You nodded and he boys moved to the space across from you, an awkward silence filling the air. Your hands kept twisting at the sheets nervously until you'd notice and stop. Then just started up again.

Your faced dropped into a mix of guilt and sadness. "I'm... adjusting."

"We know these things take time, of course." James placated, noticing Reggie's own guilt and frustration rising in his expression. He squeezed his hand. "But you haven't really talked to us much since the change in schedules, and it feels a bit like you're shutting us out is all. We're worried."

You chewed your lip, eyes glancing about as you thought. Not once landing on them.

"I just- I'm having uh... Hard time with. The difference." You managed out.

James nodded. "How so?"

"The sounds, the space, it's... just different. And I feel myself getting frustrated, and I don't wanna get mad at you guys because it's my brain, not you. You're not doing anything wrong. So I stay as long as I can, but it's just getting harder and I-" You choked out as you crashed your head onto our palms. "I just don't wanna take it out on you, I'm sorry. I don't know how to deal with this yet."

Reggie spoke up then, his voice calmer as his hand reached out to touch the fabric in front of you. "Darling, look at me please."

You looked up warily as Regulus scooted closer, leaving James' side. "May I?" He asked, raising his palm up.

You placed your hand in his.

"It's not easy, when it feels as if our brains are working against us." Reggie started. "It's as if we are not cut out for the world and the world was not made for us. We may not be able to control how our brain interprets or how our body reacts, but we can choose and train ourselves to do the best we can. To try."

Regulus reached up slowly to touch your face, giving you time to pull away if you so chose. "I want to try. I don't want my own inside rules to stop me from loving you the way that I want. The way you deserve." He paused, taking a deep breath in and out. "But I also need you to trust me. To talk to me. This morning, yesterday, I-"

You nodded, but kept your gaze down. "I'm sorry, I know this is a lot and I genuinely wish I knew how to deal with this better. Communicate better. I'm not... I'm not gonna be perfect at it. It may come out wrong."

Regulus seemed to struggle with his words, so James gladly chimed in, putting a hand on his shoulder, "We just want to support you as best as we can, but we also need to make sure we're all good too. And the only way to do that is if we talk about it. Are you okay with that lovely?"

Regulus tilted your now tear stained face up. "It doesn't need to be perfect. Just try, okay? And I will too. I most definitely do not say the right things always, nor do I express myself very well. Yet you've always been patient and non-judgmental of it. Can you trust me to be the same?"

You held his gaze, doubt blooming behind your eyes. "I trust you, I just-"

"Have been hurt by plebians before who couldn't deal with honest communication," Regulus finished.

You looked down at that and nodded slightly.

"We don't want you to be perfect," James supplied. "We just want you. As you are, as you've always been. That's all we want."

You met his gaze and reached across to James. It's like his body could finally relax, touching you. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you guys about it. That I just shut you out."

"S'alright lovely. We get it." James said. "Maybe this is something to talk about with your therapist, yeah?"

You nodded, "Yeah, I haven't seen her in a while. Probably should."

James couldn't help but smile at you, at how much he knew that phrase alone took you ages to get even comfortable saying. Going to a therapist and finding one you trusted. He felt himself fill with pride.

Regulus's voice was the one to break the comfortable silence. "Well I also get it, but it wasn't alright. I've had to deal with work and life all without your cuddles and I've been quite remiss to be honest." James could of sworn a sort of pout apparated on Regulus's face as he spoke and then disappeared just as quickly.

Regulus nodded before you leaned in for a quick kiss. Then turned to place one on James as well.

Slight amusement traced your lips, but you surprised them when you spoke with a deep sincerity instead. "I'm sorry Reggie. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Well! I don't know about you, but that just gave me all the energy I needed today," James said with the biggest smile on his face.

You laughed, a beautiful laugh, at the same time Reggie scoffed but didn't disagree. He even went to kiss you again.

James knew that things might come up again, that it's wasn't all solved. But you loved each other, trusted each other. And that was enough.

[rispwr]

Hate you - chapter 5 - J.JK

Pairings : ex! Jungkook x ex! Reader

Notes : idc abt the word count anymore lmao. i will accept my fate that i could never get those number word counts lmfaoo. the drama is startinggg- oh hasn't it already began?

Genre : Ex2L, angst, slow burn, fake dating, slice of life, fluff, e2l, corporate rivals, smau, smut

Sypnosis : ‘You were always told that hating someone is the only way it doesn’t hurt but what if you can’t hate him? No matter how hard you try your heart will always find it’s way to his’

2 years after breaking up with your boyfriend of 2 years you were finally on your way to become the ceo of your family’s company your rival turns out to be your ex.

Contents/warnings :

Misunderstood break up, insecurities, mentions of self harms or mental health issues, jk is mean at the start, yelling, sensitive language or words, mentions of family trauma, corporate au, smart (both), mentions of yoongi x oc, mentions of cheating, soon to be ceo! Jk, soon to be ceo! Oc, oc is still named Y/n or {__}, corporate rivals?, fake dating, lack of communication, death of a character, mentions of suicide attempt. not proofread

series masterlist

again?

Jungkook's head pounded as he groggily sat up. He rubbed his temples, wincing at the dull ache. Glancing to the side, he noticed a glass of water and a couple of painkillers on the bedside table. Next to them was a note, its familiar handwriting tugging at his heartstrings.

"You should stop drinking and driving fast at midnight. It's bad for your liver and dangerous."

The note was pinned to a picture frame of the two of you, smiling. He traced his fingers over the image, a small, bittersweet smile forming on his lips.

it wasn't just a note. it was you. It was your concern, your voice, your heart. Even now, after everything. At least you were here, even if only for a moment.

He closed his eyes, letting the ache of longing settle in his chest. This—these fleeting moments—were all he could hold onto now.

Reaching for his phone, Jungkook unlocked it, scrolling through social media out of habit. His thumb stopped dead on the screen as a picture appeared: you and Yoongi, cuddled together on a couch. Your head rested on Yoongi's shoulder, his hand gently tangled in your hair as he smiled down at you. The caption was simple but cut deeper than any knife: "Home."

Jungkook clenched his jaw, biting his lip to stifle the wave of emotion surging within him. His fingers trembled as he stared at the photo, regret burning in his chest. That could've been him. No—it should've been him.

If only he had stayed.

But he hadn't. He had his reasons, though none of them felt valid now. He had convinced himself that leaving was the right thing to do. He hated the gnawing insecurity that whispered he'd never be enough for you, that you deserved more than the flawed, broken man he was. He thought he was doing you a favor by walking away, promising himself he'd come back when he was better, stronger—when he was perfect.

But perfection never came. Time passed, and so did his chances. Now, he was left with nothing but the crushing realization that he had only sabotaged himself. You had moved on, found someone who could give you the love and stability he always struggled to provide.

He let out a bitter laugh, though it carried no humor. He was too late.

Running a hand through his hair, he leaned back against the headboard, the phone slipping from his grip onto the bed. His mind was a storm of regrets and what-ifs, but none of them could change the reality staring back at him.

Jungkook's eyes drifted back to the note, his heart aching with a mixture of longing and acceptance. He'd lost you, but at least you were happy. That's all he had ever wanted for you, even if it meant watching from the sidelines as someone else gave you the love he couldn't.

But it didn't make it hurt any less. 

Jungkook stood up abruptly, his movements shaky yet determined. His eyes, red from tears and alcohol, found yours in the dim light. Without a word, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. The embrace was warm yet suffocating, filled with desperation.

"Kook- what are you doing?" you asked softly, your voice barely audible against his chest.

"Let me," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Just... let me hold you. For the last time."

His words hit you like a freight train. The 'last time' echoed in your mind, twisting something deep inside you. Hesitantly, you raised your arms, almost letting them encircle him, but before you could decide, your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you out of the moment.

The vibration was loud, intrusive, and it broke the fragile bubble you and Jungkook had found yourselves in. You gently pushed against his chest, creating some distance.

"Wait," you mumbled, reaching for your phone. The screen lit up with Yoongi's name. Your heart sank further into the storm of emotions swirling within you.

"Hey, Y/N," Yoongi's familiar, comforting voice came through the line. "Where are you? It's getting late."

"Oh, um..." you stammered, your mind racing for an answer. "I'm at a restaurant right now, eating," you lied, hoping it didn't sound as strained as it felt.

"Really? Are you okay? You sound... different," he asked, concern lacing his tone.

You stole a glance at Jungkook, who was watching you closely, his gaze unreadable but intense. His jaw tightened at the mention of Yoongi's name, but he didn't say a word.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you replied, forcing a nervous laugh. "I'm just tired. I'll, uh, see you soon, okay?"

"Are you sure?" Yoongi pressed, his worry evident.

"I'm sure," you said quickly. "I'll call you later. Gotta go!" Without waiting for his response, you ended the call, shoving your phone back into your pocket.

Jungkook took a hesitant step forward, his hand reaching for yours. "Stay," he whispered, his voice raw and pleading. "i don't understand-"

You looked at him, your throat tightening. His expression was unlike anything you'd seen before—hopeful yet broken, desperate yet resigned.

"Kook..." you began, but you couldn't bring yourself to finish.

"Just this once," he said, his voice trembling. "Stay with me."

Your heart ached at the sight of him, but you knew you couldn't. You couldn't let yourself fall back into the same cycle of heartbreak and pain.

"I'm sorry," you said softly, tears pricking your eyes. Gently, you pulled your hand from his and took a step back.

Jungkook's head bowing as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. He didn't try to stop you this time. He just stood there, watching as you walked away.

As soon as you were out of sight, the tears you'd been holding back spilled over. You pressed your hand to your mouth, trying to stifle your sobs. You hated how much he still affected you, even after everything 

The Next Day

You run your hands through your hair as you waited in the sleek conference room. Today’s meeting was important. a potential collaboration with influential figures in the industry. Securing this deal would not only benefit your company but also solidify your position as a force to be reckoned with in the business world.

You twirled a strand of hair absentmindedly, your mind wandering to the memories of last night. The image of Jungkook’s tear-filled eyes and his broken voice pleading for you to stay was still fresh. Shaking your head, you focused on the present.

The first three representatives had already arrived, exchanging polite greetings and idle chatter as they settled into their seats. You greeted them with a warm smile, but a glance at your watch told you the meeting was running late.

“Where are the last two?” you muttered under your breath, turning to your assistant, who stood nearby.

“I apologize, ma’am,” they whispered. “I wasn’t informed there would be five guests instead of three until this morning.”

You sighed but nodded, waving them off. It wasn’t ideal, but you would manage.

The door opened, and your heart instantly lifted when you saw Yoongi walk in, dressed sharply in a tailored suit. his eyes meets yours, he gave you a subtle smile that sent a wave of reassurance through you..

Behind him came another man. one that made your breath hitch.

Jungkook.

He strode into the room, his black dress shirt perfectly fitted, his expression unreadable, like nothing ever happened last night. His gaze swept across the room until it landed on you.

Your smile faltered, your lips parting slightly in shock as you stared at him. It was like the air had been sucked out of you.

He met your gaze briefly before looking away. He took the seat across from you, and it felt like all eyes were on you now.

Yoongi sat beside him, his expression neutral, though you noticed his jaw tighten for a moment. He glanced at you, his subtle nod urging you to refocus.

Clearing your throat, you forced a polite smile and looked at the group. “O-Okay. Let’s start, shall we?”

You gestured toward your assistant, who quickly connected the presentation slides.

The meeting room had finally emptied, leaving only you and Yoongi. As he adjusted his watch, he turned to you with a slightly apologetic smile.

“I’ve got to rush- urgent family dinner,” he explained, his tone regretful.

You nodded, understanding. “Okay! Tell them I said hi,” you replied with a genuine grin, waving as he turned to leave.

He raised a hand in acknowledgment without looking back, his quick steps taking him out of the building.

You gathered your things and began walking toward the elevator. As you rounded a corner, lost in thought, your heel caught on the edge of the carpet. A gasp escaped your lips as you stumbled forward, bracing for the hard impact of the floor.

But it never came.

Strong arms caught you mid-fall, steadying you. The familiar scent hit you before the voice did.

“You should be more careful, y’know?”

Your heart stopped.

The world seemed to freeze as your eyes darted upward, meeting the face you thought you’d left behind in your mind.

Jungkook.

The murmur of workers broke the moment.

“Isn’t that Ms. Kim and Mr. Jeon?” “Didn’t they break up?” “Are they back together?”

You glanced around, spotting several employees discreetly snapping pictures and whispering amongst themselves. The realization made your blood boil.

Quickly, you pulled away from Jungkook’s grasp, straightening your outfit as you shot him a glare.

His lips curled into an infuriating smirk. “No ‘thank you’?” he teased, his tone as casual as ever.

You rolled your eyes, your irritation boiling over. “Thank you,” you snapped, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Without waiting for his response, you spun on your heel and walked away, your pace hurried as you headed toward the nearest restroom. 

aglist : @crazyovayou @minghaosimp @pitchblack0309 @kpopsmutty69 @junecat18 @primadonnasdream @minimoniminimoni @7lilacpetals @vonvi-blog @jk97bam @kissyfacekoo @baechugff @chuberry22 @nerdycheol @etaernaluvv @kooloveys comment if you wanna join

[merbear25]

Hello! I answered this asking what gender you wanted the reader to be, but since there wasn't a response, I made them gn! I hope you like it 💜🧡

You’d only been seeing each other for a short time. Each day he found something new to adore about you, which led to discoveries sprouting both innocent and lewd in nature. Even when he attempted to suppress his urges, he was reaching his boiling point and his imagination ran rampant.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, gn!reader, established relationship, bondage used on reader (wrists, legs, rope), slight abrasion, penetrative sex, cum shot, aftercare

Bound and gagged (Germany)

There were parts of his personality that maintained an air of mystery: his deadpan stare when you bubbled with excitement, the irritation he felt when you two were running late, and how he folded his arms when you were red with embarrassment. Could it be that he just wasn’t that fond of you? You’d only been dating a short time and hadn’t even moved past pecks on the lips.

Walking alongside him, the chilly autumn air gave you the dread of not wearing something heavier. Your shaky form from the last gust of wind was swallowed by the warmth of his jacket. Looking up at him, your batting eyelashes caused heat to nip at his face and ears.

“Aren’t you cold now?” The concern in your question wasn’t helping him cast out the images of you that’d been swarming in his head at night—-too ashamed to explore them to their potential.

“Not at all.”

“But your ears are bright red.” You leaned in to get a better look at him. Seeing the flush on his face deepen, you hesitantly took his hand. It was cool to the touch, so you moved closer to him, tangling your arm with his.

Your fingers lacing with his was nearly too much to bear. Having gone so long without being intimate with each other was only making matters worse for him.

“Your entire face is red! Are you feeling alright? Maybe we should head home?” 

Hearing the word ‘home’ pass your lips so freely had his heart pounding. “Perhaps that’s for the best.”

You hadn’t gone far from his place. The park you were enjoying the partly cloudy day in was just around the corner from where he couldn’t work up the courage to lay with you.

Passing over the threshold behind you, the blood in his reddened cheeks rushed further below. The way you looked around his house with curiosity sparkling in your eyes stirred a primal desire in him. You possessed far more power over him than you could ever realize, power that he wanted to turn the tables on and use to his advantage.

“You should rest. You looked like you were burning up!” The steps you took towards the blanket draped over the backrest of the sofa were cut short by the blonde’s objection.

“No, not here.” When you turned to face him, bewilderment in dancing in your eyes from his sudden outburst, he cleared his throat. “The balcony in my room is more comfortable.”

The timid gesture for you to follow him, planted a seed of suspicion. He was acting far more unusual today, but that could be boiled down to feeling unwell. The mental gymnastics you went through to rationalize his hesitation to enter his own bedroom had you questioning his health more and more.

“Maybe you should have a lie down? I could stay with you.” A soft tone accompanied by a tender hand on his shoulder made his body crave more of you.

To drown in your saccharine would be a welcomed demise. His hand stayed on the doorknob, his white knuckled grip remained out of your view. “I need you…” He spoke in a hushed tone.

“I’m here for you…Whatever you need I-”

“No, no… I mean to say that I want you.” He couldn’t deny it any longer, and having you enter his room knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to guarantee stopping himself from making a move felt like a dirty trick.

“I want you too,” you assured him. “How could I not? You’re smart, kind, incredibly handsome… I’d like nothing more than to be more intimate.” Even with him making the first move, there was clear vulnerability in your admission.

His fist tightened on the key to unlocking the playground he was yearning to lead you to. “Have you any idea what you’re in for?” His voice was ragged from the rising desire of what he’d been dreaming of now within reach.

“I’d like to find out if you’re willing to take the lead.” Your eyes fluttered between his eyes and lips. You stepped forward and rested your chin on his shoulder.

“I can do much more than that.” Stealing a kiss from you, the fervor both of you had been holding back on came out at full force.

Your hands tangled in his hair, while his arms wrapped around your waist. Kicking the door open, he swept up off your feet with ease. He tossed you on the bed, promptly climbing on top.

The sudden roughness from your typically gentle and timid giant was making your head spin. You welcomed his strong lips with equal passion, and as his hands roamed your body, yours acted on their own accord. 

You tugged his shirt off, ruffling up his slicked back hair. In one swift motion, your pants and underwear were discarded on the floor. The sight of your chest rising and falling from anticipation was intoxicating, like meek prey trapped under a blood-thirsty predator.

Diving back into a lip lock, a fiery trail coated your neck. Nips and hot saliva coaxed moans out of you. “I’d really like to try something with you,” he murmured against your dampened skin.

“Anything, anything you want I want it too,” you breathed. The rush of it all left your common sense at the door, unable to warn you of what you were getting yourself into.

Reaching under his bed, he pulled out thick ropes. “Don’t worry, I won’t make them too tight.” He flipped you on your stomach and tied your wrists to the bed frame before you had the chance to digest what was unfolding.

Your breaths quickened from the panic creeping on. When his soothing lips traced your shoulders and his large hands caressed your exposed body, you melted into his feather duvet. Your sweet pants and slight shifting of your hips as he touched you were driving him wild.

He squeezed your ass and thighs possessively before finishing the job. Your ankles were bound to the end of the bed, leaving you at his mercy. 

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get more attractive,” he growled, running his hands up your body. The slight quake under him left the man wanting more.

He firmly planted his hands at your sides and rubbed himself against your shivering lower half. Even with his cock kept hidden under his trousers, there was no mistaking how much of himself had remained hidden. The rhythm of his hips already had you trembling.

“You want more?”

“Y-yes,” your plea was muffled against the pillow.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, please!” You shrieked louder as his hand stroked where you were craving him most.

Your obedience was mouth-watering. The fabric falling on the floor made you tense. The feeling of his heavy length resting on you sent a shiver down your spine. The tip of his lube-coated wanton for you being pushed inside had you whimpering from the start.

Each inch of him was eagerly accepted into your aching form. Despite the twinge, the pleasure was far more overpowering. Deeper and deeper, you could barely handle it.

“Ludwig!” You cried out as he pressed against your g-spot. The quickened pace of him plunging inside you in a position that left you helpless made your sobs uncontrollable. You tugged at your restraints in desperation, wanting to adjust yourself to the building pressure from him stretching you out beyond belief.

“Does it hurt?” He slowed down to give you a chance to catch your breath.

“N-no, just really big,” you whimpered.

He didn’t hold back after that. Each motion bucked into you allowed your sweet gasps to swirl with his deep grunts. You were right where he wanted you, right where he’d been dreaming of, and you were perfect in every sense of the word.

The ropes irritated your skin from the tugs and pulling of your shared intensity. However, your mind and body being overwhelmed with carnal desires for each other made it easy not to pay that discomfort any mind.

Your voice was growing shrill and gravelly. You were both so close. Your knuckles whitened around the thick restraints, while you grunted through the waves of heightened bliss. He leaned down, pressing his slightly sweaty forehead against the back of your neck. His hands tore at the sheets. With a strangled cry, he pulled out and instantly coated you with every last drop of his white hot pent-up lust.

He collapsed on you, breathing heavily but still able to lay weakened kisses on your recovering body. Once catching his breath, he removed each rope.

Seeing the marks on your wrists and ankles, he couldn’t help but feel ashamed at how selfish he was. “I didn’t realize they’d cause this much damage.” Your lovely skin was branded by him, which was something he regrettably saw as arousing.

“I’ll be fine,” you laughed lightly.

“Still… We’ll use padded handcuffs next time.” He decided.

Listening to him go on about how to ensure you could be more comfortable, while he gathered a towel to clean you up made an undeniable realization of love sprouting in you. Its warmth spread across your chest, as you smiled to yourself.

[anicaaa67]

tw self h@rm

hurt/comfort

sometimes you didn't know what was wrong with you. most days, you felt fine and had genuine fun, but when you get home, all hell brakes loose. you live with your mom, and she's not abusive but can have abusive emotional tendencies. Because of your mom, UA dorms were a life saver. you finally didn't have to be in that environment. at UA, you love your classmates and are a part of the self-proclaimed bakusquad, thanks to Mina and denki. You had a fine day at school, nothing triggering or bad happened, but here you are, sitting on your bathroom floor, blade in hand, swiping at your thighs and hips. it's summer, so you've started cutting more on your hips so you can wear more revealing clothes. You sit there crying for no particular reason while blood trickles down your thighs. you love the scars but hate them. you want to get better, but you want to get worse. you want to have scars, but you want to have clean skin. you have tried getting clean in the past, but to no avail. When you finished you cutting session your hips look horrible and you got a little carried away on your thighs "fuck, now I can't wear shorts for a few weeks." you think. Your bathroom is in your dorm so you walk up to your dresser to change out of your now bloody pants. *knock* *knock* "Y/N? are you in there?" you hear a gruff voice ask from behind your shut dorm door. you and bakugou have gotten closer as friends over the weeks to the point where you pesterd him into agreeing to a weekly movie night for the two of you. "shit" you look at the clock, 6:30. silently scolding yourself for losing track of time you pull on your favorite fuzzy pajama bottoms and bee line for the door. you look cute in your crop top and fuzzy pants but bakugou would never admit it aloud. you open the door "'bout damn time" he scoffs. "I thought ya fell asleep on me." You roll your eyes, and both you sit on your bed. Bakugou set down the bag of food he brought with for the movie night on your bed. You turn to pick up your room a bit while bakugou watches tiktok (he is obsessed with tiktok but won't admit it), which is normal since you've been doing this for a while.  While cleaning, you don't hear anything, so you turn around to see bakugou paler than a witch staring at something. you follow his eyeline to see the pants you were wearing earlier with the blood still seeping in the seems. "fuck" you said out loud as you scurry to pick up the pants. you discard them into your hamper just as bakugou says something. "Do you hurt yourself?" he said in a chilling low tone. you sit there too stunned to speak. he probably thinks I'm weak now. great. the boy I've been in love with things. I'm a monster who can't figure out her own problems. Your silence was all he needed for him to pull you onto the bed and wrap you in his warm embrace. after a while, bakugou convinced you to let him clean out your cuts in your bathroom properly so they didn't get infected. when he finished he gave you a peck on the forehead and you two headed for the bed to finally watch the movie and cuddle. Bakugou knows he has to talk to her more about her mental health but also their relationship. However, for tonight, he would just hold her and let her cry in his shoulder.

[tw1l1te]

The Final Promise₊˚✩⊹

Chapter 5

Linked Universe x reader

Warnings: Mentions of traumatic pasts, fluff, angst, mental health

₊˚✩⊹

“You and I both know I’d make such a sexy Link,” you said, “Green is my color, you said so yourself!” 

Wars groaned “Of course you remember that of all the things I’ve said.”

You turned to Four and Legend, who were walking a few feet behind you two, loudly whispering “I think he’s too embarrassed to admit I look better in green than him.” 

Both of them nodded exaggeratingly. Wars just groaned. You cackled loudly. Both of you knew it was all fun and games, needing some humor to lighten up the journeys you've been through.

Keeping up with him, you looked out onto the expanse of Hyrule, slowly transitioning from green grassy fields to dry, sandy earth. You almost didn’t notice it by how slow it was, but you felt a shift in the wind. You looked at the others, seeing if they also picked it up, but you seemed to be the only one. The air felt heavy and threatening, like a predator was hunting you. Watching you.

“Stop.” you say, mostly to yourself, but the others hear you as well. 

Hyrule jogs back to you, “What’s going on? You ok?” you concentrate on a blade of grass, putting your finger up to your lips to listen. The air is thick with tension, you could probably cut it with the Master Sword.

“Portal’s opened up.” you say, looking past Hyrule to the group, eyeing Time to try and read his face. He looks at you for a moment, an emotion that you can’t read written across his face, but he seems to snap out of it. He nods.

You pull out your phone, still the same battery percentage as when you first landed in Hyrule, the charge not depleting despite the fact you’ve been using it continuously. Flipping to your homescreen, you start walking forward, the group following behind you. You took out your phone to detect which direction the portal is located. The screen gets all fuzzy and distorted when it gets close to the portal, so it acts as a compass in a way.

You only needed to use this tactic when the portal didn’t popup in your line of sight, which seemed like the case right now. 

“Careful sunshine, there’s usually monsters near portals.” Wars mumbled, his hands firmly gripping the hilt of his sword, knuckles going white from how hard he was holding it. Pointing it towards the hill in front of you, your phone finally starts distorting, the response you were looking for. You slip your phone into your pack, pointing toward the hill wordlessly.

Reaching the peak of the hill, you see the purple and black colored portal in the sandy expanse of Gerudo Valley. The group resumes walking toward it, but you hesitate. Time and Wars turn back around to look at you, noticing your hesitation. They can see the internal battle happening behind your eyes.

“I’m so fucking close, Time. It’s literally a day or two walk away for us. I-fuck I can’t do this.” you say, eyes starting to sting. 

The others stay put while Time makes his way to you, slow, careful steps. Kneeling slightly in front of you, he sighs.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. Truly, I am. I wish there was some way I could help, but I can’t. We have to go through the portal, but I promise you, whichever Hyrule we land in, we’ll keep searching for you.” he says, a stern look on his face. His words do little to ease your anxieties, but you know that there’s, objectively, nothing you can do. With a nod, both of you walk through the portal, the rest of the group following close behind.

~

You hear voices around you before you can open your eyes. Sensing the voices didn’t hold any worry or danger, you relaxed for a few more seconds before you inevitably had to get up.

“We’re here, Y/n.” Four says, brushing the hair out of your face, no doubt getting tangled through the shifting of realities. You’d have to deal with it later.

You groan, every inch of your body sore. You look at Four, “Any idea of who’s Hyrule we’re in?”

Four ponders before answering, “Well, it’s definitely not mine, but Time says it might be his, but is unsure because we’re in the middle of a field right now. Probably Hyrule Field if I had to guess.”

Time addresses the group, adjusting his gauntlets “I’m suspecting we’re in my Hyrule, based on the terrain and layout. If we head North, I have an old friend we can lodge with for a few days.”

“Malon?” you ask.

“...Yes. She took over the ranch a few years ago, so there shouldn’t be any issues with beds or room.” he answers, partially forgetting that you knew almost every Hyrule and its people. It should have worried him, but he was glad you were excited to explore Hyrule regardless of your seemingly endless knowledge of it.

While walking on the dirt path, you, Wind, and Hyrule talk about the different Hyrules, mentioning how despite being the same land with minor shifts of architecture and layout, it still felt starkly different.

“I’m still so confused on how your land is mapped out, Y/n. You’re saying you have… cities? As in Castle Town, right?” Hyrule asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I guess yeah. But way bigger and taller. Think Castle Town but like 100 times the size.” you say.

Hyrule’s mouth drops open.

“Holy goddesses, that’s huge! How do you not get lost? I got lost in Wars’ Castle Town for at least two hours last time we were there, and it was a nightmare figuring out how to get back to the inn.”

You chuckled, remembering the frantic Hyrule entering the inn, hours after he was meant to return.

“It’s harder if it’s a new city I’ve never been to. I used to live in the city when I went to school, so I had to walk in it everyday. I eventually memorized and knew how to get around. If you guys ever land there, I’ll show you around.” you said, looking outward onto the path in front of you.

You can see the ranch in the distance, a small stream of smoke coming out from the chimney.

“Seems like she’s home, Old man.” Wars said, gesturing at the house. Time nodded in response.

“For the love of goddesses, please behave. I’m lucky enough as it is that she lets me bring you lot here.” Time says, groaning slightly.

“Aye aye, captain!” Wind shouts, earning another groan from him. You smiled at Wind, him shooting you a toothy grin. 

~

“It’s about time you boys came around! Come in, come in! You must be hungry and exhausted.” Malon exclaims, ushering you in. “And Y/n! So glad to see you again, it's been what, 5 months now?” 

“Wow, its been that long Mal? Damn, time does really have a way with catching up to you. How have you been?” you ask, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“Ah, y’know, same old thing every day. Link’s been keepin’ ya on your toes, huh?” she teases, nodding his head at him, “Fairy boy can’t sit still, can he?” she muses. 

Looking back at Time, you see him standing awkwardly. You chuckle, “He does, but he takes care of us. He’s good to us, all of us.” You smile at him, him sending you a small smile in thanks, refocusing on something the group was talking about. 

Now that you’re focused on him, you realize you and him didn’t discuss what that kiss was a few nights ago. It’s been nagging you, gnawing at your brain. You needed to talk with him, but… you were nervous. You’re experiencing the beginnings of a school girl crush again, a feeling you didn’t think you’d feel again after…. them. You were scared shitless. 

You’d talk to him. Tonight.

₊˚✩⊹

[spoonfulofmilo]

Could you do fic for James Vowles with wife reader? With her being in the Williams garage, she witnessed Alex and Danny incident at the Japan GP and was so worried about them that she ended up going to James at the pitwall for his comfort. He decided to hug her while calming her down and going to both of the drivers to make sure they're okay. Just something fluff and little angst. Add something if you want to. Thanks!! :)))

what is it with me only getting these fics out like 2-3 weeks after the race, anyway, it's again so short but my mental health is suffering right now, so, and im happy with it the length it is.

my masterlist can be accessed here

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

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“Come on Logan, show ‘em why you deserved to be in the car last weekend.” 

Logan nodded as he pulled his helmet on and gave a thumbs up and a fist bump to Y/N. It was her first weekend at the grand prix, as she preferred to stay at home, and let James call her to give her an update. But James had been pleading with her to come ‘just once’ and after the disaster weekend they’d had in Australia, she had braved the timezone and flown out for Japan.

She sat down on the folding chairs with the rest of the pit crew, while PR managers and assistants and anyone who liked James, which was 90% of the garage, was trying to persuade her to sit on a more comfortable chair. She shook her head smiling, insisting she was fine as long as she wasn’t in the way, on the folding chair, with the pit crew. 

James shook his head fondly, gazing at his wife as she chatted to Alex’s race engineer, before he slung his headset on and walked out to the pit wall.

Unfortunately the joy in the Williams garage lasted all of about 1 corner. A cheer erupted as they all got through turn 1 okay, but it was yelled too soon.

“As they make their way through AND OFF INTO THE WALL, off into the wall goes the 2 cars, and a big crash into the tire barrier,”

“Yeah, that’s going to be an immediate safety car, a heavy impact for Ricciardo and Albon…”

“Red flag, red flag.”

Y/N could see the anger as the mechanics grew angry, yelling stuff, but it all felt muffled underwater, as the camera cut to a replay of the crash. She sat there, staring as she watched Daniel and Alex’s cars clobber the barriers again.

So much for good luck this weekend. She watched as Daniel hopped out of the car, and she saw that Alex was having a little trouble due to the tyres almost balanced perfectly on his halo.

She heard the other cars filtering into the pits and as the pit crews dash around the cars Y/N escape through the garage and up to the pit wall, where she spotted James chatting to some of the other mechanics. She quickly crossed the pit lane and hopped up to the pitwall.

“Hey darling, what are you doing here?”

Y/N didn’t know what to say to that. What was she doing here? She looked at her husband trying to convey all of her current thoughts through her eyes. Thankfully he seemed to get the message and embraced her in a hug.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, they’re both fine, they’re both okay. The red flag is because the barrier is destroyed and they’ll be here before the end of the red flag, okay? I’m sorry darling, that must have been terrifying to see that crash, especially when you have no information. How about you stay here, I think Alex and Daniel will come from there,” he pointed somewhere, Y/N wasn’t paying attention properly “so they’ll walk past here and you can see that they’re completely safe and sound.”

Y/N nodded at that, and snuggled in further to her husband’s embrace as he asked about tyres for Logan’s restart and discussed new strategy, keeping an eye out for the 2 drivers.

come walking down the pit lane. She careful extracted herself from James’ embrace, he nodded as he saw the 2 drivers arriving.

Y/N ran over and embraced them both in a hug, ignoring the commentators comments of ‘mom’ and ‘awwww’ and she pulled them in close and started rambling

“Oh my god, are you okay, that was a big crash, are you sure you don’t need to go to the medical centre, wait, hang on, what’s the test, uuhhhh, how many fingers am i holding up?”

“2, Y/N, relax, we’re okay.” Daniel put a hand on her shoulder

“Y/N breathe okay, I know that was a big crash and that I think was your first big crash while being here, so I’d imagine it's a little scary, but it’s okay. We’re both okay, Daniel and I in one piece.” Alex pulled her into a hug, before releasing her.

Y/N didn’t trust her voice, just nodding and furiously wiping away at the tears falling down her face.

“C’mon, I’ll get you back to James and then by the time the red flag is over, I’ll be back from media and we can watch the race together, okay?”

Y/N nodded again, smiling more than she was as Alex led her back to James.

“Keep her safe until I get back, yeah boss?”

“Oh come on Alex, you don’t trust me with my own wife?”

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