#it makes me so sad to see him run off alone

[petriwriting]

Resentment - Theodore Nott X reader

summary: Y/N gets jealous when Theodore has a really beautiful herbology project partner.

A/N: They/them pronouns. Implied female reader, but not important. Jealous!Theo & Reader. Cormac Mclaggen being a shit head. and slightly toxic and abusive. Gryffindor Vs Slytherin love triangle (sort of)

Her long curls fell down her back perfectly. Sweet perfume filled the room, something with notes of rose, bergamot and cedar. Manicured thin fingers held a quill and took notes. she smiled, and laughed as if she were in a movie. He was wealthy, athletic and came from a prestigious pureblooded family. She was everything. Slytherins It girl. she was popular and the type of girl who was always nice, even to the Gryffindors and non-purebloods. Her name was Astoria Greengrass. Even her name had a nice ring to it, sounding just as perfect as her appearance.

She was fortunate enough to be paired with Theodore for the herbology class you shared, Theodore had been your long-time crush since you were children, but as you both grew more mature and time passed, It was somewhat evident he may not feel the same, as you had hoped. The two of you maintained a very playful, and flirty in nature relationship, but both parties kept it to a minimum, scared of teetering over the edge that would dileniate friends from lovers. a line that you felt was often blurred with the boy. But now, Theodore seemingly had eyes for another.

The professor went on about poisonous plants and their uses in magic, potions and tinctures. You day dreamt about putting wolfsbane in Astoria's coffee, in a jealous rage. Maybe you had learned something in that class afterall. You were rightfully upset. She tossed her head back and laughed at Theodore's every joke, and smacked his arm playfully. They would make the perfect couple, though it was sad to admit. both were young and attractive slytherins. You thought you surely didn't stand a chance against her. It was good though that your own class partner was jotting down notes. It was a nerdy hufflepuff boy, who asked questions a lot and kept pushing his glasses back up on his face.

You seethed in anger as you watched what was unfolding, watching the two closely the entire class period. Once class was over, you scurried away quickly. You just wanted to scream into your pillow, it wasn't fair at all. You huffed, rushing back to your dorm, and of all people to run into...Thud.

"I am so sorry," It is Cormac Mclaggen. His blonde hair, and strong jawline, boyish figure, now all standing in front of you.

"It's alright," you utter softly. the boy helps you gather your books that had scattered across the floor, your hand brushed yours and you swear you saw him flush. 'Are you headed back to your dorm?"

The question caught you off guard. Was it that obvious you were going back there to cry, eat chocolate and be alone?

"Yes, actually." you said finally. "May I walk you?" he asks. You shook your head at first, it would have been a polite no but you could use the company, and It never hurt to be seen with someone for once.

"Very well then. Shall we?" He asks, holding your books for you. It was odd that someone like him would even consider speaking to someone like you, coming from vastly different cliqes with different friends. you walked forward while he matched your stride beside you. "So, Herbology, huh?" He asks to break the ice, seeing your herbology textbook at the top of the stack of textbooks.

"Yes, It's been rough." you admit. "Just remembering all the herbs and which ones are poison and which ones are healing." you continued.

"That class was a breeze for me." He says with confidence. He isn't usually the type you would attract, but he is handsome and willing to talk to you. "Oh really?" you quipped, somewhat oblivious to the obvious flirting, but playing along anyway.

"Yes," Cormac says with a smirk. "I could tutor you if you'd like?" He offers. You stop at the common room entrance, he passes your books over to you. "That would be really nice, actually." you said. "I'd appreciate that."

Cormac nods, shifting his focus to you. "Meet me in the library tomorrow afternoon then? We can go over some material." you smiled softly. "Its a date then." you said, quickly correcting yourself. "Well, not really a date, date. But you know what I mean." you reply.

"Its a date." he nods with a wink and a smirk and then wanders off. you enter common room and then past the students sitting there leisurely. You enter to sanctuary of the dorm, finally. Did you just schedule a date? I guess If your longtime crush decided it was time to move on, there was nothing stopping you from doing the same.

. . . . . .

The next day, the afternoon came quickly. You appeared in the library early, before lunchtime to study on things on your own. Little did you know you would run into a certain someone and his 'friend'. Of course, as soon as you heard Astoria's effortlessly attractive laugh, your heart sank into your stomach. The mood you were in faded, and you couldn't stop thinking about Theodore.

You wanted to prance over there and tell her off in front of Theo, but you knew causing a scene would just make you look like a fool and word would spread, followed by rumors. So you stayed in your seat, taking notes for the textbook you were looking through, copying the illustrations and writing down key-words.

The laughter was like a melody, filling the air and piercing through the silence of the library, it was heard above the quiet chatter, and when you looked back with a glare your eyes caught Theodore's. You stared for a moment, and then looked away. Astoria was suddenly quiet again. You decided to play the game right back at him.

Cormac Mclaggen approached your corner of the library, and you smiled, standing to greet him with a hug, the confused, but not complaining boy embraced you tightly and you giggled. "Thank you for doing this." you whispered.

Mclaggen was clueless to your antics, just wanting a date and to study.. or so you had thought. The flirting was amped up to the max, and absolutely no studying got done that afternoon. Cormacs hands reached lower... past your lower back.

(Theodore's POV in italic.)

When I locked eyes with them in the library I knew. I knew that I had ruined my chances. I turn to my classmate and family friend, Astoria. The other Slytherins would be deathly embarrassed for me if they knew I had asked the girl for help. Despite my reputation as a flirty 'bad boy' as some would say, I knew this relationship was different, It didn't feel like just a crush, and I wanted to get things right. So Astoria was helping me flirt. She was pretty, sure and could have any guy she wanted, which is what made her the perfect qualified expert to seek help from.

"Girls like when you sit close to them," Astoria had told me, tossing her long hair behind her ear. "You'll know if she likes you if she plays dumb at first, classic move. and," Astoria explains. "They'll laugh obnoxiously loud at everything you say. Like this." she erupts in a thunderous laugh, she's faking it, but I don't think anyone can really tell. I sigh.

"Alright," I say. "What about if they aren't... so direct?" I ask her, uncertain. The person I had eyes for didn't seem like the type to giggle at my every word just because I was giving them attention, it seemed superficial. "Well," she begins with her lips pursed. "Then you'll have to be yourself if the classics don't work." She says. I'm unconvinced, I'm not the best at talking beyond flirting. and they are important to me.

"It's just like I told you in Herbology," Astoria says. "Being yourself will work once you've flirted and played a little. Make them chase you." she says matter of fact. I snicker, I know her secret, and that her tactics don't work on the one boy here she has eyes on. "Is that what you're doing with Draco?" I ask her, she flushes red and fingers the ends of her hair, a nervous habit. I noticed she did it when she spoke to him, so maybe even the experts get nervous.

"noo!" she exclaimed. "I try and be nice to him," she explains. "He's been through a lot." she frowns. "Sure, Astoria." I say her name very promptly. "That doesn't matter, I'm trying to help you remember?" she says. "Oh I remember." she chuckles again. "You are unbelievable Nott. so, Who is the lucky girl?" she asks.

This is the part where I looked up to meet their eyes. We locked eyes for a moment, I was mesmerized. Enamored. But then I see that Mclaggen and his bloody arse is hugging them. My blood begins to boil, I want to lunge forward and hex him, but I stay in my seat quietly. "It doesn't matter." I say. "We need to leave." I Say promptly. "Oh, ok." Astoria frowns again, softly gathering her things and following me out of the library in a rush.

. . . . . .

In the following few weeks it was now an official school-wide rumor that Theodore Notts' new girlfriend was Astoria Greengrass. There were even rumors from the Gryffindors that you were Cormac's new arm candy. It upset you, greatly. So you had been playing along and letting Cormac take you on dates and to honeydukes. You'd been doing all the things couples do, without the label.

You figured it didn't matter considering Theo had a new girlfriend. You had wanted to tell him how you felt, and you were so close too, until all this happened. Almost everywhere you saw him in passing he was with her and the other Slytherins. You avoided them specifically to avoid the conflict.

You were walking yourself to class when Cormac popped up, you tried to hide your dismay, you wanted to roll your eyes and scoff but you faked it instead. Cormac was clingy, and could be very pushy at times. "Hi love." he said with a smirk. You hated when he called you that. "Hello." you said quietly. "Will you be at my quidditch game later today?" He asks. you stop in your tracks. "Tonight?" you confirm. "Yep. you know where," he winks. "I have my Jersey from last year for you to wear from the stands." He says, pulling out a Gryffindor Quidditch Jersey that hasn't been washed and smells like sweat and cologne. You stared at the filthy cloth.

"Well, I have plans tonight." you said. it wasn't a lie, you did forget about his stupid game. Cormac looked at you like a lost, orphaned puppy you had just kicked. you sighed, not wanting conflict to arise. "I guess I can make it work." you said finally, grabbing the nasty shirt and holding it out. "right on!" Cormac cheers for himself. "I'll see you this evening." He says, kissing the side of your head and then rushing off into the halls to be with his buddies.

You wanted to scream, as you walked back towards your dorm. You needed a nap to clear your head. Cormac could be a great boyfriend, for someone who liked half-beaten flowers that were bearly alive, cheap jewelry, Honeydukes chocolates (Not even the kind you liked..) and for someone who liked to be smothered. You had to put an end to it before it got worse, and before he started to catch actual feelings, but you liked the attention and felt less empty, so you stayed around.

As you made it to your dorm you laid down in defeat, tossing the dirty jersey onto the floor. No way you were wearing that this evening. You'd wear a warm coat and your house scarf like you had planned.

. . . . . .

When the evening came around, you gathered around and got ready with your dorm mates, helping each other pick outfits and making sure your hair was perfect, It was a cute moment. Something heartwarming and refreshing before you would inevitably have to stand in the cold stands during a quidditch game, the one you didn't even want to attend. you hadn't even been thinking about how Theo would be there as well, until you remembered out of nowhere. It made you even more upset. But eventually you'd have to stop avoiding him and just be happy for the boy.

You just wanted a good fun evening, without unrequited love on your mind. You pushed Theodore to the back of your mind, for now. You tried to be present in the moment, just enjoy the time you had with your friends, no drama, no bullshit.

as you approached the quidditch stands, students were slowly filling the stands, Slytherin against Gryffindor. Both very... Passionate houses. you were hoping you'd blend in, without the obnoxious jersey you didn't bother wearing. Students chattered, the roar slowly growing louder until the start of the game. The cold air was nipping at you, piercing your exposed skin. You shivered slightly, hoping it wouldn't snow that evening. You chatted with your friends, who accompanied you.

Once the game began, everyone lined up in position. It started off slow, with Gryffindor in the lead, nearing to a tie. You watched as player flew past you on their broomsticks, an entertaining affair. Your eyes tried to ignore Theodore, but he looked so handsome in his Slytherin quidditch robes.. you couldn't help but feel warmth on your cheeks. You were pulled out of your dreamy state when Cormac waved for you, blew you a kiss and made a heart with his hands. you sank back into your seat on the stands, it was embarrassing. Your friends teased you about it making kissy noises. You hoped the Golden Snitch would be captured already to save you the torment.

Slytherin and Gryffindor were now tied, it was a race now. Both houses were incredible competitors, especially for each other. You secretly hoped Gryffindor would lose so you wouldn't have to celebrate with Cormac later, you felt bad for not liking him, and for stringing him along. You are lost in your own thoughts, despite the large crowd, the chatter and cheering.

You should have thought that sooner, Because that's exactly what happened. Gryffindor lost, by a very close call. Slytherins in the crowd cheered loudly, a roar of applause and laughter. A relief for you. You watched from the stands as everyone cheered for Theodore and his team, Cormac looked pissed off, in some side huddle with the rest of his team just under the stands out of view. You hurried down from the stands to the field, your hands were like ice cubes despite the fingerless gloves. You were surprised not to see Astoria lingering near...

"Hey!" Theodore calls for you. "Congrats on winning tonight, Nott." You said playfully, breaking the ice finally. while upset, you still cared for him. His eyes still made you feel warm and his scent was enough to make you weak in the knees. "Owe it all to the team." He says, running his fingers through his hair. "Non-sense, you did great out there. Best playing I've seen in a long time." You quipped, a sharp exhale escaping your chest as you saw Cormac wander over. Total eye roll.

He threw his arm around you, as if you were his property. You pushed his arm away and gave you a sharp look. "That your boy?" Theodore asked harshly, biting his lip in restraint. "What?" you questioned, realizing what he had meant. "No, no." you said quickly.

Cormac's cocky expression dropped to a cold one. "Excuse me?" he asked you dramatically. "Don't be ridiculous. Let's get out of here." he said. When you shook your head, clearly uncomfortable, Cormac grabbed the center of your upper harm, with a stern tight grasp. You gasped gently, the squeeze was painful as you struggled against him.

"Let me go!" you snapped at him, That is when Theodore stepped in and grabbed his wrist as he tried to reach for you again after you had struggled out of his grasp. "They said to let them go." he seethed through his teeth.

Cormac scoffed loudly. "Is he the reason why you refused to wear MY Jersey?" He looked at you, standing behind Theodore. He had said questionable things to you, but you were scared now that he had gotten physical with you. "Stay away from me," you snapped at him. "I should have never spoken to you."

Cormac laughs, had he had his wand with him he would have tried to hex the both of you. Unfortunately, he didn't have it. He hesitated for a moment and then swung on Theodore, luckily, like a cat his movement was swift and he was able to dodge. This only made Cormac angrier. "You son of a-" Cormac had tried to lunge forward, but your emotions and frustration got the better of you now, and you had stepped forward and kneed him hard in the crotch. The boy cowered in pain immediately, and you stood there for a moment, some of the slytherins cheered for you, some stared in shock, others were amused. your face went red, and then the tears threatened to spill over so you ran off.

In the evening cold, the snow had began to fall as the sun set over the school. You had ran through the corridors to find someplace private, landing on an empty corridor on the far end of school grounds. Immediately, the tears began to fall. You felt so stupid you had let Cormac Mclaggen of all boys embarrass you like that. and in front of the only boy you've ever wanted? That was just social suicide. You were crying not just because of that but because of how scary the situation was, now you'd be targeted by Cormac and his group. You wanted nothing to do with him from the start, you just wanted to make Theo jealous and to make yourself feel less alone.

You choked out another sob and you steadied your breathing.

. . .

I saw them there, after leaving my quidditch gear behind on the field. they looked so saddened and I couldn't bear the thought of that low life bloke ever hurting them. I wanted to hug them, tell them it was all going to be okay. They were sobbing, and my heart shattered. I knew I would find them here. I said their name tenderly, gently. They quickly brushed the tears away from their eyes and looked at me. "I'M sorry about all that." I say softly. "Is everything okay?" I ask.

They take a long breath and open up, finally. "Cormac hasn't been the greatest to me," They admit. I knew that much. "We aren't dating, by the way." they said. I sighed, and placed a hand over theirs in reassurance. Even with puffy eyes and restlessness they still looked breathtaking to me. "I was using him to make you jealous." They said. I swallowed in confusion.

"Why me?" I asked, I sounded like a desperate fool. I just wanted to make sure they were okay, no matter who they were with. "Because," They said. I sigh, not wanting to pry any further.

I finally speak up after a short silence. "You know... I really like you." I said finally. My heart is racing but it feels so good to say out loud. I anxiously anticipate their response. They look at me in confusion, which confuses me... "I thought you were seeing Astoria Greengrass." they asked me. I chuckle lightly at the thought, She's not my type, and very much into Draco. "No, no I am not." I say in disbelief. Its starting to make sense now, I supposed to an outsider my little secret deal with Astoria could be mistaken for a relationship. "She's only being friendly with me so she can get closer to Draco." I explain. "I had this deal with her... I would set her up with him if she would help me impress you." I say, it feels like spilling my guts. "I hope it worked." I add after a second.

"I had no Idea you felt that way about me." They say. "Being with you is all I've ever wanted since I met you." I admit sheepishly. "I just have never had any idea what to do with this feeling, It's strong and new for me." I continue. Oh, Merlin. Stop. Talking. though mentally scolding myself, and before saying anything stupid I take another step closer to them, inches from their face. They give me such a gentle and loving gaze it makes me feel warm and loved. I close the distance, embracing lips with them in a gentle embrace.

. . .

You were taken back by the kiss but embraced it, enjoying every second of the moment. Your hands felt up to the nape of his neck and into his hair, while his found their way to your lower back. You pulled back after a moment, embarrassed that you looked like a mess from the crying. "Then lets do it." you said finally.

"Let's be a really good couple." you said with a girlish giggle at the thought. "Absoluetly, anything," Theo says. You gaze into his eyes in another sweet moment. It was now somewhat official, your heart was fluttering and you felt butterflies congregate in your chest. An amazing feeling.

[lafortezaboy]

hey babes i'm sorry to hear that you have a time during the holidays 😢

this is actually my first time ever requesting !

can i request some dani x tmasc reader please 🙏

thank you lovely! you're a sweetheart, and holiday things did get a little overwhelming so i've only just gotten around to this, but i hope you enjoy! and, i'm honored to be your first request!!

content / warnings: established relationship, reader is an influencer, reader uses he / him pronouns, reader talks about being trans / realizing they were trans, there's no explicit transphobia but there are mentions of it, so please keep that in mind before reading

it wasn't often that you spent the night at the dorm. while you loved all the girls in your own way, with five other people living there, it could get chaotic quickly, and sometimes you and daniela just wanted to spend some time together. but when you had texted your girlfriend, asking if she wanted to come watch a new show with you, the texts you'd gotten back were worrisome.

daniela was never truly down. sure, she was just like everyone else and could be upset or sad, but her bright personality nearly always outshined in the end. unless something serious was wrong, she could shrug off anything. so getting the text that she didn't want to leave her bed? you'd told her you'd be there as soon as you could be, knowing that something was up.

getting to the dorm was no trouble, and sophia wasn't surprised to see you at all when she opened the door. that alone confirmed it, that something was wrong, and you needed to find out what. as soon as she saw you enter her room, she was lifting the blanket up for you, and you were slipping in beside her to pull her close, pressing kisses to her cheeks and the tip of her nose, telling her that it was okay, that you had her now.

you couldn't tell how much time passed as you held her, waiting until she was ready to talk, if she was willing to at all. you didn't mind the silence, though. you could hear faint squeals from one of the other girls – megan, if you had to guess, and you could hear the light noises that came with sophia making dinner. but daniela was what you focused on, on the way her hair felt so soft between your fingers, how her head rested perfectly in your neck, the comforting scent of her perfume. you could have fallen asleep, honestly, but when she shifted to look at you, she had your undivided attention.

"can i ask you something? about . . . about you, you know?" the way she asked the question clued you in pretty quickly, because you'd heard it before, from friends and family who were confused, from people who didn't understand. but her tone didn't feel the way theirs had, daniela seemed hesitant, but still a little curious. so you gave a little nod, fingers still running through her hair. "how did you know? that you're a man?"

the way she said it reassured that she meant no harm by it. others had worded it in such a way that had made you internally groan, fully expecting an argument by the time you were done. but she said it so surely, like she had no doubts, and that was partly why you felt the answer come so easily.

"well, for a while i didn't," you admitted, gazing up at the ceiling fan, watching the blades spin. "i knew i had always liked girls, and i was always a tomboy, but the gender stuff didn't really come in until puberty hit, and i started hating the way my body was changing." her arms tighten around you then, and you lean a little into her more, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead to show that you were okay.

"i started hating myself too, for a while, but i have great parents, and the second they realized i wasn't okay, they got me into a therapist. but i wasn't comfortable at first, because i had a woman therapist, and it just didn't feel like stuff i could say to a woman? so i asked to switch, and then they gave me this male therapist. and i could talk to him about stuff, you know? like sports and cars and video games, and all these things i had been taught that were the standard guy things, and i felt really comfortable with him. but i was jealous too, because i was going through all these changes and i didn't understand why my body couldn't look like his. why my voice couldn't get deeper or i couldn't grow facial hair, why i couldn't get taller. and eventually, i opened up to him about that, and he gave me a whole bunch of stuff to read about gender and sexuality."

you let out a small sigh then, and you could feel daniela's eyes on you, checking for any signs of discomfort. your arm just squeezed her a little, hoping to reassure her that it was okay. "so i read all the stuff, and it kinda just clicked to me that i was trans? and i think that i really knew a few months into transitioning, when my dad called me son like he did my brother, and it just felt right? like i didn't have to be the person i felt like i was forced to be, i could just be me, and my family would love me and have my back."

daniela's hand had made its way to your chest, and after you finished talking, yours came up to hold it, bringing it to your lips gently. "is there a reason you wanted to know, dani?" you asked, glancing over at her. the way her eyes avoided yours told you the answer, but you waited, wanting her to open up in her own time.

"this morning i . . . you know i watch all your tiktoks, like a lot," she started, and you let out a little hum. she did do that, she loved seeing the things you posted. "and there was one where your shirt was off, and i thought i would get to see people drooling over you in the comments and get all cocky because you're mine, but there were a lot of people being gross." it didn't take you any time to realize what she meant, and you just nodded a little.

"yeah, that happens all the time baby," you told her softly. she huffed then, arms tightening around you once again. "well it's bullshit, and i don't like it ," she grumbled, and you couldn't help the little laugh that escaped you. "i don't like it either princess, but it's there. it's always gonna be there, in some way or another. there's always going to be some asshole who wants to hurt people, but just because they try, that doesn't mean that they do get to hurt me. like, i'm comfortable in my own skin, and i'm doing what i love, surrounded by the people i love, and i have the most perfect girl anyone could ever ask for as my girlfriend. some losers on the internet aren't going to ruin my day by being dicks in my comments."

she was quiet for a moment after, and you simply let your fingers begin running through her hair once again. eventually though, her hand came up, tilting yours to the side to press a soft kiss against your lips. you kissed her back in an instant, lingering as long as she'd let you, but she pulled away much too soon.

"you can't ever change, okay?" she said, hand still on your cheek. "because if you change, they win, and then i'd have to beat them up. and i don't really want to go to jail, but i will." you laughed before you could stop it, and she quickly joined you, pulling you closer to her. you wrapped your arms around her completely then, rolling the two of you over so you were hovering over her. she moved with you, and once she was flat on her back, she looked up at you with such devotion in her eyes that your breath caught in your throat.

your fingers came up then, brushing her hair behind her ear gently as you looked at her. "i won't let them win, i promise. because if you do go to jail over me, i'd lose sophia's approval. and i really like being allowed over, because then i get to do this." and she seemed to read your mind because hands were cupping your face as you leaned down, pressing your lips against hers gently.

[unintentionaloracle]

The Bloodline Doesn't Know [Fic]

Here we go! Got more Zowens for you because I miss them.

Summary: Sami's attempt to appease Kevin about his involvement with The OG Bloodline works too well. Now Sami finds himself sinking deeper into a tangled web of his own making...and a spicy situationship.

(Also there's a brief wink to Candy and an Ambreigns mention but I don't think they're significant enough to put in their tags but I can fix that if needed)

“Sami!”

Hearing his name shouted in that tone hurt.

Sami had gotten so used to being excited to see Kevin again over the past year. The giddiness of seeing the man he loved again after weeks or months apart. If Sami had things his way, when he turned around to see Kevin's face, it'd still be a welcome break from the chaos of his life. He'd get a firm hug that made him feel like nothing in their violent profession could hurt him.

But now?

Damn it, Sami thought.

Dread started to gnaw at his heart. He'd wanted to put off this confrontation longer. At least until he was done with Drew and could politely go his own way from The Bloodline. But of course, the world wouldn't allow that. And with him showing up on Kevin's show? It was inevitable. So instead, he tensed, girding himself for what was to come.

“How could you do this to me!?” He said, motioning to Sami’s shirt. “How could you go back to him!? After everything he put both of us through!? Or your stupid, precious Usos though!?” Kevin shoved Sami’s chest. “You said you loved me, Sami! HOW IS THAT LOVING ME!?”

His words were like lemon juice on his already wounded heart. Sami tried his best to look Kevin in the eye. It was the least he could do. For all of Kevin's recent fury, Sami could also see something different in his eyes. Something that, while once present with Randy and Cody, felt more pronounced. Something actively fighting with the smoldering hatred in his eyes instead of waiting it's turn.

Sadness. Mourning.

Sami felt tears forming in his eyes...

...and an idea forming in his mind.

He knew he shouldn't do it. It would probably be worse in the long run for the both of them if he did this.

But he couldn't let Kevin stay this way. Couldn't leave him all alone when he was struggling. He knew what it was like, when he thought the world was plotting against him. And this was what he wished he had in those days. Or thought he had.

“I do love you, Kev...” Sami said, backing up against the wall.

“LIAR!” Kevin shouted, pinning him against it.

“That's why I'm your inside man with Roman!” Sami blurted.

Kevin backed up slightly. “What?”

Sami took a deep breath. “Did you really think I would go back to Roman so easily? I'm keeping an eye on him. Making sure he won't take over again. Or hurt you or anyone else I love again. The minute he does?” He smacked his hands together. “Helluva Kick to his face.”

Kevin eased up more. Sami was surprised how easily he lied. Though as he thought about it in this pregnant pause, he realized there was a grain of truth. For all his excitement at being with The Usos again and feeling like things were different this time, there was still a lingering doubt...

Before he could mull on it further, Kevin shook him out of it. “You're with me?”

“Always,” Sami said, cupping his face. “Please, Kevin. It kills me to see you all alo—”

Kevin cut him off with a fiery kiss, repinning Sami to the wall. Instinctively, Sami wrapped his legs around him as he reciprocated. A small moan bubbled against his lips, threatening to escape into Kevin's mouth should things escalate. Instead, Kevin pulled away, replacing the moan with a whine. Kevin smirked, no doubt loving this little bit of control he'd gained in his life.

He whispered in his ear. “Tell me anything you find out, okay?” Kevin asked, running his hands along Sami's thigh.

Sami nodded, dumbstruck.

“Good. Meet me back at my hotel room,” he said. He glanced at Sami’s chest. “And leave that shirt wherever the hell you want: your car, your bag, preferably the trash...I want you to look good...”

...Sami knew he shouldn't be into this, but...

Kevin gave him a peck on the lips before dropping the flushed and rumpled Sami back to Earth. “God, you're so cute like this.” He said, thumbing his chin. “...Actually, just meet me in the Lamborghini.” He said before leaving.

Sami tried to recompose himself before following, only to hear three words he dreaded:

“Call Roman Reigns.”

Sami rushed to the pillar Heyman was hiding behind, knocking his phone from his hands. He turned the call off and threw the phone away. “It's not what it looks like!”

Heyman looked Sami up and down, his lip curled and his hand over his chest. “It looks like you're betraying your Tribal Chief again just so you can get laid by,” his face scrunched as he shook his head, “Kevin Owens.”

“I'm not–! I...I'm just getting close so I can keep an eye on him. So he doesn't come after us. If he does, I can warn Roman. I promise, I'm just doing whatever it takes to look out for the family! No need to tell Roman!” Sami pleaded.

Heyman looked skeptical. He sighed, motioning for him to leave.

Sami sighed with relief. “Thank you! I promise, I'm protecting everyone by doing this. You'll see! And I'm sorry about the phone!’ He said, hurrying off before Heyman could take it back or Kevin could grow doubtful.

---

The weeks that followed were more of a flurry than usual. On top of everything else, there was trying to keep an eye on the ever-elusive Roman and reporting back just enough crumbs to satisfy Kevin. Though as time went on, the reports had devolved into something along the lines of:

“Roman doing anything bad?”

“Not much. Just ghosting us.”

“Good.”

And then they'd eagerly bang with a passion on par with their younger years, often with the Winged Eagle belt staring down Sami–almost judging him for “betraying” his friends for this–somewhere by the foot of whatever bed they were on. But Sami always kept the guilt over happily screwing the man that put two of his friends in the hospital aside for later.

(Cody would understand, anyway, given his history with Randy...right? And who hadn't gotten into bed with someone who had done terrible things at least once in this business?)

This is good for us... Sami thought. Kevin is calmer, we get to stay together, and I get to protect my family...

---

However, it nearly came crashing down one SmackDown.

Roman had pulled Sami aside after a Bloodline meeting, Heyman looking gleeful behind him. Roman pulled up a picture on his phone and showed it to The Honorary Uce.

“Sami, why the hell are you sneaking around with Kevin?” Roman asked as Sami took in the picture: him and Kevin, Kevin mid-dropping the Winged Eagle belt from his shoulders as he crawled atop a lounging Sami on the bed, the blinds of their (... Kevin's...) hotel room window not closed enough at the moment.

Damn it! Sami thought. He remembered this exact night. Kevin had noticed before they got too into it and closed them. Clearly not fast enough...

“Heyman, that's illegal!” Sami protested.

“What makes you think I took it?” Heyman asked, overly flabbergasted.

Sami rolled his eyes. There was no point wasting time arguing with Heyman. He turned to The OTC. “Roman, I can explain, it's all part of my plan to protect–!”

“I don't want to hear it!” Roman boomed, shutting Sami up as Heyman grinned, clearly eager for the inevitable bloodbath to come like a buzzard. “I know what's going on!”

Sami braced himself...

“You were afraid we wouldn't approve...” Roman said, gentler.

“...What?” Heyman and Sami asked in a harmony of disgust and confusion.

“Look, I don't like Kevin, but if he makes you happy, it's fine.” Roman said, patting his shoulder. Sami then felt Roman tense. “Just don't let it get in the way of our business, okay?” he added, lowering his voice to a rumble like thunder.

Sami nodded. “Uh, yeah. I was worried this was a Romeo and Juliet situation. That's all. Thanks, Roman. That...means a lot.” He said, now feeling worse for his deception.

Roman chuckled, loosening up on a dime. “No problem. Now go get your man, Sami. And hey, maybe we'll invite him to dinner, sometime.”

Sami nodded, hurrying off, unsure of how he got away with that. From the look on Heyman's face, The Wiseman didn't know, either. But Sami knew when to take a win when he got one, so he hurried off to Kevin. He contemplated if he should pass on what Roman thought was happening...

He felt himself get roughly yanked around the corner to a broom closet, Kevin wasting no time to kiss him.

Later. I can think later...

Epilogue

“My Tribal Chief, you can't be buying that “forbidden love” nonsense!” Heyman pleaded.

“I don't,” Roman said, frowning. “But it's keeping Kevin distracted, so I'll let him keep doing what he's doing. And if it screws us, I'll make sure Sami pays for it...”

Roman didn't want to acknowledge there was a pain in his heart (and a phantom pain in his back) when he thought of Sami possibly betraying them again. Deep down, he knew Sami had clocked it: Roman did still have some affection for him on some level, tinged with begrudging pride.

“Besides, I think I really know why he's running around with Kevin...” Roman said, old memories coming back to him. Ones that made him grieve something he selfishly missed but could never have again. But also ones that kept him company when he was alone.

“Oh?”

“Wiseman, have you ever fooled around with a deeply unstable man?” He asked.

“...No...” Heyman said, raising an eyebrow.

Memories continued to resurface. Of rough hands. Discarded tank tops on the floor. Hypnotic, unhinged, rambling compliments and affirmations. Kisses marinated in cheap beer on a crappy motel bed after a terrible betrayal.

“Then you wouldn't get it.” Roman said simply, leaving the room and his Wiseman baffled.

[loonymarshian]

Always By Your Side

Day 8 of #BG3FicFeb - "It will be okay as long as we're together" A bit of a re-write of the end of the game, Astarion struggles as he is finally forced to confront the rest of his life in the shadows, but he doesn't have to do it alone.

Sorry ya'll, I skipped day 7, was struggling to come up with any inspiration from the prompt. Also, don't worry, part 2 of the day 6 prompt is coming, I've just decided to put it on the backburner a bit so I can focus on the daily prompts more.

The adventure was over, the netherbrain defeated. Tragedy and her companions had destroyed the tadpoles that had infected their minds all this time, and been named the Heroes of Baldur’s Gate. But this was not a wholly happy ending. After the brain’s defeat, the party had gathered on the docks to watch the sunrise. They’d forgotten, for a moment, that one of them was no longer welcome in the light of day. As the sun rose over the horizon, Astarion had begun to burn, the tadpole no longer protecting him from the curses of his vampiric nature. He’d run for cover, but just as Tragedy had been about to rush after him, Karlach had collapsed, her engine finally reaching its limits. The necromancer had been forced to remain behind, to convince Karlach to return to Avernus with Wyll. Her fellow tiefling had been through too much, was loved too much, for her to die now. But through all that, Tragedy’s mind was flooded with anxiety for her love. She couldn’t bear to leave him alone out there, but convincing Karlach to live had been far more urgent than following the vampire.

As soon as she had safely seen Wyll and Karlach off, Tragedy rushed off on her own, not even taking the time to say goodbye to her remaining companions. She knew they would understand. The only thing that mattered to her was finding Astarion as she ran around the docks, praying to every god who might be listening that he had found somewhere safe to hide. The tiefling’s heart didn’t slow until she finally spotted the vampire’s familiar white hair, his form huddled in the shadows cast by a large stack of crates.

Astarion had made himself as small as possible. His face was buried in his knees, his arms wrapped around his shins. Even from 20 feet away, Tragedy could see him shaking. Tears sprang to the necromancer’s eyes as she rushed over to the man she loved. Wordlessly, she sat down beside him and pulled him into her arms, encouraging him to cry on her shoulder instead. He did so without a fight, leaning his full weight into her side as his form shuddered with sobs. Tragedy didn’t know how long they sat there before Astarion exhausted himself.

“I thought I would be okay.” Astarion’s voice was quiet and hoarse as he mumbled into his lover’s chest. “I thought I was prepared to lose the sun. I didn’t realise it would be so hard. I’m sorry.”

Tragedy held Astarion tighter, her cheek resting on the top of his head. “Don’t be sorry, love. Of course this is hard. But I’m here. You don’t have to face this alone.”

The sun had fully risen by now, and it was starting to encroach on the shadows the couple occupied. Thankfully, Tragedy was pretty sure she still had enough energy left to cast Dimension Door. All she needed was to find a safe space they could move to within the spell’s range. Glancing up, she spotted the bow of a ship jutting over the docks. The Blushing Mermaid. They should be safe there for the rest of the day, especially if Captain Grisly was willing to let them hide in Ethel’s lair.

“Hey, Astarion? I’m going to cast Dimension Door to take us to the ‘Maid, okay? We can’t stay here.”

At that, the vampire finally pulled away from Tragedy’s embrace, glancing up at the tavern above, and the shadows surrounding them, noticeably smaller than they had been when he’d arrived. He reached up to wipe away his tears, then took his lover’s hand and nodded, ready.

Pulling Astarion to his feet with her, Tragedy closed her eyes and conjured an image in her mind of the interior of the Blushing Mermaid, specifically the main upstairs space where the curtains were always drawn so there was no risk of landing in a patch of sunlight. She whispered the verbal component of the spell, and felt as the Weave wrapped around her and her love, blanketing them in darkness for a moment before they found themselves within the dark interior of the Blushing Mermaid. The tiefling made sure Astarion was comfortably situated at a table in the darkest corner of the room, before hurrying downstairs to get drinks. If there were ever a time for day-drinking, she figured, it was now.

~o~

A bottle of wine later, Astarion seemed much more himself. The ‘Maid was never empty, even at noon, and the rogue had started distracting himself by making snide comments about the rest of the patrons. Tragedy was joining in of course, partly because it seemed to be keeping Astarion in good spirits for the moment, but she had to admit, people-watching like this was entertaining. It wasn’t until a gnome walked into the room wearing a hideous red beret that did not at all match his purple attire, and Astarion didn’t respond to her pointing it out, that Tragedy realised he had slipped into melancholy once more.

The tiefling reached across the table to hold her lover’s hand, both their wine glasses abandoned.

“Is everything okay, love?” She squeezed Astarion’s hand in her grip reassuringly, wanting to remind him that he wasn’t alone, and she was here to listen.

Astarion met Tragedy’s eyes just briefly, a fake smile plastered on his face. “Just thinking about what comes next. Do you have any plans?”

The question confused Tragedy. The way he asked made it sound like he thought their plans for the future wouldn’t involve each other. She hadn’t really thought about what she wanted to do with the rest of her life, but she did know one thing - whatever life was going to bring, she wanted to share it with this man. They’d gone through so much together in such a short time, grown together in ways she never would have expected. She loved him, and she would do anything to make him sure of that.

“I suppose we’ll have to start looking for a way for you to walk in the sun again,” she said, full of confidence. She may not have been a powerful enough wizard to attract the attention of Mystra herself, but that didn’t mean she was without power and skill. If there was any magic out there that could cure vampirism, or grant a vampire immunity to the sun’s rays, she would find it. And if there wasn’t anything for that specifically, she would dedicate the rest of her life to mastering Wish, a legendary spell that could grant an arcane caster anything they Wished for.

The declaration seemed to stun Astarion, his eyes wide and his body frozen. It took him a moment to thaw out, but when he did, his insecurity was painted clearly across his face. By now, Tragedy was pretty sure she understood what was going on in his mind. For 200 years, Astarion had been abused, his body used as a tool over and over again to lure victims back for his master, Cazador. He’d never known real love, romantic or otherwise. So, now that the tadpoles were gone and there was no outside influence keeping them together, Astarion was half-convinced that she would want to leave him.

“Really?” His question came out in a whisper at first, before he cleared his throat and continued at a higher volume. “Are you sure? Is this,” the vampire gestured between them with his free hand, “what you want?”

“It is. Whatever we’ll face in our futures, I want to face it together. I love you, Astarion.” Tragedy gripped his hand tighter, trying to infuse all her love and conviction into that one touch, this one look.

Astarion finally relaxed, his expression softening into a relieved smile at her response. “Good. Because, selfless as I am, I really didn’t want to let you go.”

Reaching over the small table with his free hand, Astarion cupped Tragedy’s cheek and pulled her into a sweet, slow kiss.

This was the end of one adventure, but their lives together had just begun.

[ayyponine]

girl help im going back n forth on whether or not i should send an email to thank the beautiful man fr letting me join the drawing session last week (more info on that entire situation here and here) and letting him know i probably wont be back but appreciate having had the experience either way. great or horrible idea leave a comment or DM to lmk.

[happy74827]

Feels Like Home

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You decide to take it upon yourself to become best friends with Wade’s new grumpy addition to the family (much to Logan’s dismay).

WC: 2453

Category: Fluff, Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Logan trope {TW: Bar Fight, Handsy Drunk Dude, Mentions of Blood + Bruising}.

[Dedicated to: @iluvloganhowlett] I finished it for you!! (I’m shocked at the speed too don’t worry 💀). Hopefully this fluffiness will help add onto the low supply out there.

And incase anyone hasn’t seen it yet: DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

『••✎••』

You’ve always had a keen eye when it came to others. It’s mostly why you and Wade get along so well; you’re the one person who can see straight through him. And while it means you are very close, it also meant that you can easily tell when something is going on with someone you don't know that well, like the tall, brooding man named Logan, who had just joined the club of misfits.

You could tell by the way he carried himself that he had been through hell and back. He was quiet, grumpy, and had a tendency to snap at Wade, which, most of the time, was a well-deserved snapping.

You could also tell that there was more to him. He wasn't just a grumpy guy; there was something about him that made you want to be his friend. Maybe it was the sadness in his eyes, or maybe it was how lonely he looked.

Either way, you knew he was in need of a good friend, and you wanted to be that friend. Not a pestering one like Wade, but the kind of friend that just makes you feel a bit better.

So, when you spotted him, downing glass after glass of whiskey for the third day in a row, you just knew you had to help.

And he hated it. Oh, man, he absolutely hated it. You were such a happy ray of sunshine, always smiling, always laughing. He found it so fucking annoying. He couldn't deal with you and your constant positivity. It was like you were the PG-13 version of the breathing ballsack next to you.

But you wouldn't give up. Every time you saw him, you would try to cheer him up by making silly jokes, giving him small gifts, or even just sending him encouraging smiles.

He didn't want any of it, but it seemed you were too stubborn to listen. Every small note you’d given him was left crinkled in the trash; every gift was placed away without ever being touched. Your smile never got a response.

That is, until one day, as you walked by him, he mumbled something that almost made you trip over.

"Thanks."

You stopped in your tracks and turned around to face him, a look of disbelief on your face. You had tried so hard to cheer him up for the past few weeks, and this was the only thing you got from him? You couldn't believe it.

You had spent so much time and effort trying to make him feel better, and this was all he could say to you?

You wanted to hug him. To scream to the skies and celebrate that he finally accepted your kindness.

You held the restraint to do so, though. You didn’t want to cause him to close off again, and so instead, you sent him a soft smile, and a small nod, before you resumed walking (running) to your friends.

The next day, however, you were met with the biggest surprise of your life.

Logan was sitting at the bar, drinking. He didn't look too different, still dressed in his trademark blue jeans and flannel shirt, but his face was still holding that sadness you had grown used to seeing on him.

You walked over to him and sat down beside him, that classic smile of yours plastered on your face.

"Hi!"

He groaned. "You're not going to leave me alone, are you?"

"Nope!" You replied cheerfully, popping the 'p.'

He grumbled under his breath and downed the last of his drink, signaling to the bartender for another.

"Come on, Wolvie," you said, nudging his shoulder. "Lighten up. Life's not that bad, is it?"

He turned to glare at you, his dark brown eyes piercing into yours. "It's Logan," he said, his voice a low growl.

You shrugged and leaned closer to him, propping your elbow on the counter. This was the usual part—the part where he would give vocal responses while you carried on your one-sided conversation with him.

The difference this time, the surprise of it all, was when a person approached the both of you. Mind you, a very drunk person.

"Heyyyyy, baby girl," he slurred, his hand landing on your shoulder.

You turned to him, and he was looking you up and down with that gaze you knew had only one intention. You still smiled, though, and politely moved his hand off your shoulder.

"Uh, hi?" You answered unsurely.

He slammed his elbow on the counter, his palm on his fist. "You are gorgeous," he commented, and you had to hold back the laughter that was bubbling in your throat.

"Thank you," you chuckled.

Logan scoffed, rolling his eyes, but you paid him no mind. Usual behavior from him, nothing new.

"No, really," the stranger continued, moving his arm around your shoulders, "I think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Well, I'm glad you think so," you answered, still chuckling. "But, I think you're a little drunk."

"Drunk on love," he responded, "Say, wanna get out of here? I'll show you a real good time."

Here comes the awkward part, you thought.

You shook your head, and removed his arm from around your shoulders. "Thank you for… uh, the kind offer," you answered, "But, no, thank you."

You expected him to shrug it off and leave or to just be a dick, as many drunken guys are. But no, this guy did not know how to take a hint.

Instead, he tightened his grip around you and pulled you closer to him, his free hand moving down your waist. "Come on, baby," he said, his words slurring. "You know you want to."

You sighed. You were really hoping it wouldn't have to come to this.

You were about to speak, to politely, yet firmly, tell him to leave you alone, but before you could open your mouth, a gruff voice beat you to it.

"She said no,"

He didn’t even look at the man or you. His eyes were still fixated on the counter as if he was talking to his glass, but he had turned his head a bit to the side so that you could hear him clearly.

The drunk stranger was startled by the sudden intervention. He let go of you and looked over at Logan, confusion clear in his face.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked, his brows furrowed.

"Does it matter?" Logan grumbled.

"Yeah, it does," the stranger retorted, his slurring voice suddenly getting serious. "If I'm gonna be having fun, I don't want an audience."

Oh, how you hated confrontations.

Logan just scoffed with a slight hint of a smile, shaking his head as he still refused to turn around.

"Trust me, pal," he replied, "I ain't interested in watching you do anything."

"Good." He went back to his obnoxious grin, now directing his attention back to you. Oh, man, he was an eyesore.

"So, how about it, beautiful? Wanna head somewhere else?" He slurred.

You were about to reply, again, with a polite rejection, but your shoulder was being grabbed at again, and if it wasn’t for the small training session that Colossus had put you through, you were sure you would have lost your footing.

"Can you let go of me, please?" You asked politely, but the man was a brick wall.

"Nah, sweetheart," he shook his head, and the movement was so intense, you could almost hear the alcohol sloshing around in his head, "You're comin' with me. Trust me, you’ll be perfectly taken care of."

That was when the sound of glass slamming against the counter reached your ears, and you didn't have to see the source of the sound to know it was Mr. Grumps.

What you struggled for what seemed like an eternity, he took that needy arm away from your shoulders within a fraction of a second. It was almost shocking how quick he was, but then again, you knew what he was capable of.

With you safe against the counter, Logan turned to face the stranger, his face still showing that same neutral expression as before, though his eyes held an intensity that made the man flinch.

Normal people would believe he had the patience of a saint. But you weren’t a normal person. You knew this was dangerously close to making him lose it.

"Uh, Logan… maybe we should—"

But your words fell on deaf ears. The only thing that Logan could hear was the weak excuses the guy was trying to give as he tried to pull his hand from the tight grasp Logan had it in.

"Hey, man," he stuttered, his words slurring as the panic set in, "What’s your problem? Let go of me!

But Logan had no intentions of doing so. He held the stranger's arm firmly, his grip growing tighter until he could hear a small crack coming from the guy's bones.

"What's your damage, huh?" the guy continued, trying his best to keep his voice from breaking. "It's just a little fun, right, baby?"

You cringed as his eyes fell back onto you, and the pleading tone of his voice was beginning to make your skin crawl.

"Look, uh," you started, looking anywhere but his eyes, "I don't think—"

"Listen," the man continued, and your eyes fell shut. God, he was just not going to stop. "Maybe you can join us? Huh, big boy? That’s what it is, right? You want her all for yourself?"

Uh, oh.

"Logan, don’t—"

It was too late. He had already snapped, and with a grunt, he pulled the man closer to him, his other hand forming a fist around his shirt.

"Wanna say that again?" He growled. "Do it. I dare you."

The man was trembling in his grasp, but he was clearly too drunk to understand the danger he was in.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you her boyfriend?" He taunted, and the fact that he had the guts to do so while his hand was in a painful hold was astonishing, even for you. "Or are you just some guy with a crush? Cause, honestly, it's pretty pathetic. You can't even ask her out."

His words had Logan seeing red, and before you could do anything, the guy was pushed away and was about to be on the receiving end of one of the strongest punches you've ever seen.

So, riskily, to protect yourself and him from being thrown out of his favorite place, you jumped off the stool and slid in between them as he launched his punch, just stopping inches away from your face.

"Please," you said, your palms up and in front of you, as if that would do anything to stop the rage he was feeling, "Please, calm down."

"Calm down?" He repeated, his voice rising. "Are you kidding me?"

"You need to let it go," you told him. "He's drunk, Logan. He doesn't know what he's saying."

"And, what," he retorted, his anger slowly fading away, "Does it look like I give a single fuck about that?"

You sighed, your eyes meeting his, and that was enough for him to finally give in. His clenched fist dropped, and he released a frustrated sigh.

The dude behind you started laughing, his voice sounding as if he was trying to make fun of a fight scene.

"So," he chuckled, "That's it, huh? You're not gonna do shit? You’re just as pathetic as a—"

He gently moved you aside, and in an instant, the man was lying on the floor with a bloody nose, a black eye, and a few broken ribs.

You could only hold your head in your hands, knowing very well the mess you were about to have to deal with.

And it didn't take long.

As soon as Logan stepped away from the drunk idiot, security was on him, grabbing his arms and restraining him. He couldn’t care less, though, as he held a sadistic grin on his face, pleased with his work while being escorted out.

And, so, there, the two of you were on the steps of the apartment building. You, holding your hands in your lap, and he, staring up at the night sky.

The air was warm, the city lights were dim, and the sky was covered in clouds. There was an odd silence between the two of you, which wasn’t really all that odd, but the events of the night had changed the atmosphere.

"Thanks," you spoke, breaking the quiet. "For, you know, standing up for me."

"He was a douche," he stated, his voice gruff. "Someone had to send that fucktart crying home to mommy."

"You shouldn’t have done that, though," you told him. "Now, you’re probably banned from the bar. I know it's your favorite."

"Eh," he shrugged, "Booze is booze. There are plenty more places to get drunk."

You didn't respond. Instead, you focused your attention on the small bugs flying around the dim light next to the door.

"You shouldn't be thanking me, anyway," he continued, turning to you. That was new. "I should be the one thanking you."

You looked at him, your brows furrowed. This whole conversation was getting weird. "Uh, what for?" You asked, confused.

"For putting up with me," he replied, shrugging.

"Putting up with you?" You repeated, not understanding. "I don't understand."

"Y'know," he continued, his gruff voice a little less gruff. "Sticking around. Being friendly. Having… patience. I can be…I can be a real dick. Honestly, I still don't get why you keep trying."

The smile that found its way to your lips waa the most genuine one he's ever seen. Your eyes were full of kindness and understanding, and your lips, which usually held a grin or a smirk, were turned upwards in a soft, gentle smile.

"Logan," you said, your voice low. "You may be a grump, and you might not be the friendliest guy, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve kindness. Everyone deserves that… or at least a little bit of it."

He scoffed. "That's funny," he replied, turning his head away.

You furrowed your brows and cocked your head, confused. "What is?" You asked.

"I used to think," he began, "That no one would ever look at me in the way you do. Not after what I’ve done… not after what I am."

"You're a good man, Logan," you told him. "You proved who you were when you willingly helped Wade."

"Maybe," he sighed, his gaze meeting yours. "But, there's still a lot you don't know about me. I'm not exactly a knight in shining armor."

"Oh, my dear, Wolvie," you said playfully, leaning closer to him and placing your palm on his shoulder, "You never were."

[luviisabella]

Remember when I was talking about Bakugou’s biceps, but it wasn’t sexual ? link 💘

Let me give you another list of reasons to loveeee Bakugou’s biceps.

18+ ⭐️

—

Your mouth was practically watering at the sight of your boyfriend chugging his gallon sized water bottle. He had just gotten back from the gym and was fresh in his gym clothes. A classic athletic black t-shirt and compression capris under basketball shorts… but what really got your attention was the way his biceps were practically bulging out of his shirt.

You were reading your book until you peaked over and now you’re stuck in a trance. Your thoughts were so lewd if anyone were able to hear them they’d be beet red.

He places his water down before sighing.

“Done staring ?”

And you immediately looked back down at your book.

He scoffed at your sad attempt to cover your face.

“Embarrassed you got caught or do you need glasses ?”

He was teasing you considering how close you shoved the book to your face.

“So what if I was ? I can’t stare at my boyfriend ??” You tried to defend yourself but God seeing him like this was sending you into another world.

He started walking over to you and was admiring a view of his own. You had your back flat against the couch and your head rested against the arm of it. You had your knees pressed together and your feet flat against the seating of the couch, not realizing the perfect view he had of your pink underwear or how he could clearly see the print of your pussy.

“Perv”

“Huh ? Like you weren’t just salivating over me drinking water”

You looked away and rolled your eyes before looking back at him. Not realizing how close he had gotten and was now pressing his knee a little to close to where your pussy was.

“Kats-“

“Tell me what you were really staring at”

Your face felt hot, like someone had poured lava as a face mask. You hesitated before answering him with an innocent look hoping he wouldn’t tease you about it.

“Your biceps…”

And he couldn’t help the grin that reached his face.

His hand gently cupping your knee before spreading your legs apart.

“Katssss” you mumble at him, knowing he’s gonna leave you overstimulated (not that you’re complaining)

“You know I don’t just workout to stay fit right ?”

He picked you up and carried you to your shared bedroom. Oh you were in for it now.

He gently laid you on the bed before pulling back to lift off his shirt and My.. God. The view was something crafted by Heaven and Earth.

You involuntarily reached your hand out to stroke his abs and he hissed in response.

“I’m sorry-“ you pulled your hand back thinking you hurt him.

“S’not you.. just a little sore” he got on his knees and pulled you closer to his face by your hips.

And you frowned, wanting him to rest..

“Then we don’t have to-“ “I’m sore not dead”

And before you could retaliate you moaned feeling the sensation of his lips against your clothed clit.

Oh fuck… now you really had a view

He was holding your thighs apart with his arms, his biceps pressing against your soft skin and you were nearly losing it. Just the sight of this alone was enough to make you finish.

He gently pulled the fabric of your underwear to the side and began lapping at your clit. You threw your head back against the pillows and let your fingers run through his hair.

“Yes ngh fuck katsuki yes yes yes”

You tugged at his hair earning a low groan from him. If only you could see the raging boner he had in his shorts rn.

Just from your breathing he knew you were close and started tracing circles against your clit, making sure to hold your thighs extra tight.

“F-fuck Kats’ m’ gonna cum m’ gonna cum”

He didn’t slow down, continuing his brutal pace on your pussy as you reached your high, but he kept going through your orgasm causing you to whine and involuntarily roll your hips against his face.

Once he was done he pulled back from you again and stood up, running his thumb against his bottom lip, a satisfied look on his face.

“Working out also offers good stamina”

—

“Should we find out if I’ve really been putting in the work ?”

(yeah bby that’s all yours)

[heartlesscorpse]

Life w/ Mr Crawling!

A QUICK WARNING BEFORE YOU READ: This is following after the Blissful Love Life ending, if you don’t want spoilers I suggest scrolling! — Anyways moving on from that, I FINALLY got the fucking motivation to put something out after how many months, (yay!) Starting off with my new horror game fixation :)))) Finally got my brain juices going, and I thank Homicipher for this. This is probably going to be me posting abt it for a while. BUT it gave me the motivation to write stuff at least. If you also noticed I changed the formatting a little with my hcs and I think I like it better this way w/o the bulleted list, so Imma def keep this.

⭑.ᐟ — Ever since you’ve escaped the other world with Mr. Crawling, you had some small difficulties in getting back in the swing of things. You no longer had to worry about your safety, check over the shoulders for any monsters, you had your normal life back now.

⭑.ᐟ — And this time you had Mr Crawling to share it with! :D

⭑.ᐟ — When you first brought Mr Crawling home with you, man was absolutely ecstatic and he immediately went exploring around the house while you fixed him some food to eat.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr Crawling really liked your place, it felt cozy and warm, it had you too of course, and it was so much more welcoming and nicer in appearance compared to his world. Plus there was a lot of new stuff he hasn’t seen before.

⭑.ᐟ — It was a nice change not having the house to yourself anymore, Mr Crawling made the place a little more lively with his presence, following you around the house like a lost puppy, occasionally asking a few questions.

⭑.ᐟ — You showed him many things, movies, books, and lots of other things. He even had his first shower too!

⭑.ᐟ — You even tried teaching him basic words in your language such as “hello”, “goodbye”, “thank you”, or “please”. While Mr Crawling was having a hard time getting a gist of them, he still tried his best. <3

⭑.ᐟ — With your old life back it also meant you had to pick up your job/college again too.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr Crawling was never fond when you left the house for this long, so he mostly sat around at the front door waiting for your return.

⭑.ᐟ — Then upon your arrival it’s extra cuddles tonight to make up for loss time. He’s sad that you left him alone for this long :((

⭑.ᐟ — On the bright side however he likes going on grocery runs with you! Since nobody else could see him, it wouldn’t bring any unwanted attention. Of course with Mr Crawling’s babbling as he followed you into the aisles, you brought headphones/airpods with you so people didn’t think you were insane for talking to yourself.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr Crawling in general is very happy you let him tag along with you leaving his world, he couldn’t be any happier getting to stay by your side. And his love for you grew as well! :)

⭑.ᐟ — The first time he tried saying something in your language was “I love you” to show his gratitude. Though it sounded a bit butchered for a first attempt, the sentiment still meant a lot to you and it was a step towards somewhere to say the least.

[kleftiko]

❦ GIYUU X PREGNANT!READER

cw: none, this is fluff, fem!reader

"you have a wife?!" sanemi yelled.

"you’re lying." obanai mumbled. "that’s sad."

"tomioka, how sweet!" mitsuri called.

giyuu’s eyes narrowed at rengoku, the bright man just smiled innocently.

"i had no idea they didn’t know," he sheepishly said.

as soon as giyuu got back from his mission, the flame hashira informed him that his wife was in the butterfly mansion. something had happened, and she needed to be taken to shinobu. unfortunately, rengoku wasn’t known for being quite—blasted eardrums will do that to a person—so the other hashira in the perimeter got to hear (for the first time) that not only was giyuu NOT single, he was MARRIED.

they ended up following him through the halls, pestering him with questions until they reached the room you stayed in. your husband ignored them like usual, the only thing on his mind being your well being.

his nerves were calmed, however, immediately upon seeing you laying in bed, a smile on your face as you chatted with shinobu.

"how are you feeling?" giyuu’s tone was soft as he blocked you from the prying eyes of the other hashira in the doorway. he made his way towards your side.

"tired." you smiled at him, letting your husband hold your hand and run his thumb over your fingers. "shinobu said it was a false contraction."

"it was caused by stress," your friend’s calming voice said. "makes sense, tomioka, anyone married to you would be on edge."

your husband just grumbled at his friend as you giggled. he then helped you sit up in bed, the blankets falling off to reveal your pregnant stomach to the small audience watching.

"you had sex?!" sanemi screamed.

oblivious to the small mass of people staring at you, sanemi’s outburst startled you, causing you to grab onto your husband’s haori. he instinctively pulled you close, his soft look switching to a death glare towards the doorway.

"hush!" giyuu seethed at him, finally giving attention to the posse. "she’s nine months pregnant; shut up."

although listening and lowering his voice, sanemi didn’t let his question go unanswered. "you’re not a virgin?"

"go away," giyuu deadpanned. "all of you, go away. now."

"it’s okay, darling," you tried to soothe him. "maybe you should introduce me to your friends."

you felt him tense up at that. he didn’t let go of your hand, and he only moved half a step away from you (half of them still couldn’t see you), and he spoke with a monotone voice. "this is my wife, y/n. she’s pregnant with our first child."

the was no verbal reaction from the onlookers, just looks of disbelief from the four of them. it felt like you were an animal in the zoo with the way they were all staring dumbfounded at you.

it took a couple minutes for shinobu and rengoku to get the others out, leaving you and giyuu alone in the room. as soon as the door closed, your husband grabbed your face and peppered kisses all over it, causing you to giggle. he took a seat on the edge of the bed to be closer to you.

"i’m so sorry," he said, kissing your lips. "i’m sorry i wasn’t here."

"it’s okay, baby." you let your head rest on his shoulder. "i’m just glad i didn’t give birth."

"i would never forgive myself if i was gone for that." giyuu’s hand ran up and down your back comfortingly.

you sigh in relief, turning your head to place a kiss on his neck.

"well now that you’re here, let’s get this baby out of me."

[bohemianblasphemy]

MGG prompt. 🥺 Reid’s favorite holiday is Halloween and he’s disappointed when his plans fall through for the evening so you invite him to hand out candy at your house, and once he arrives he’s very into your Halloween costume, and you end up not passing out any candy. 😉😉

I love me some Spencer Reid 🥺✨ spooky smut coming your way!!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Contains: Unprotected sex, Spencer fucking you in your costume, Reader receiving oral, fishnet ripping… fun stuff!

“What do you mean you’re not doing Halloween this year?” You were shocked, leaning over Spencer’s desk as he was sitting in his chair.

“My plans fell through… so it’s just sit in my apartment and watch some horror movies that night.” Spencer shrugged, but you could see the disappointment behind his expression. He LOVED Halloween- come October and it was the only thing he’d talk about. You hated seeing him sad, especially during his favourite time of the year.

“Hey, I have an idea.” You said, the cogs in your head turning.

“Come over to mine… we can dress up and hand out candy, watch some scary movies. I don’t want you to be alone…” you said softly, hoping that he would take you up on your offer.

Spencer’s eyes had a spark of excitement from your offer- not only because of Halloween but also because he could spend time with you.

“Y-yeah! I’d like that a lot…” he gave you that goofy smile he always gave when he was excited, making your heart flutter at the sight.

“Great! I’ll um… text you the address, you gotta wear a costume though… or you’re not being let in.” You teased, making him fidget in his seat.

“Oh I will be, don’t you worry.”

- - -

The few days to Halloween rolled by as Spencer and yourself had finalised your plans for that night.

You stood at your bathroom mirror, applying the final touches to your makeup - the pink and blue eyeshadow blended to perfection, bringing your elvira costume together with the tall wig and long black dress that showed off your curves perfectly.

The timing was impeccable as you heard the doorbell buzzing, your favourite boy genius had arrived on time. You eagerly made your way towards the door, opening it to see Spencer… in normal clothing.

“Spencer I told you to dress up!” You said to him, a bit of disappointment in your voice. “What do you mean? I am dressed up…” Spencer smoothed over his shirt.

“I’m an existentialist.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you couldn’t help but laugh. He was such a dork, but you couldn’t help but admire him for it.

“Besides, it looks like you’re the star of our Halloween night…” Spencer smiled softly, his eyes running over you as he admired your costume.

The soft blush on your cheeks was undeniable, smiling sweetly at him. “Thanks Spence… come in.” You pulled the door open wider, watching him walk inside and take in the surroundings of your home.

He saw the giant bowl of candy, meant for any trick or treaters who were to pass by the house but couldn’t help but take a piece for himself.

“Got a lot to choose from…” he smiled as he unwrapped the piece of candy, putting it in his mouth and chewing slowly.

Smiling at him, you nodded. “Whoever comes to the door is gonna have a hard time choosing…”

There was undoubtedly tension between you both, you had no problems speaking when you were at work together but now? The air was just full of unspoken feelings and longing…

“Uhm… i have some movies that we can watch, if you’re wanting to watch something…” you turned around, trying to break the silence that surrounded you both.

“I have Halloween, The Lost Boys, Scream, The Thing- take your pick.” You handed him the DVDS that you had in your hand, he takes them and momentarily grazes his fingers on yours, making the flush on your cheeks burn brighter as you watch him go through the selection of movies.

“The Lost Boys first?” He grinned, seeing the smile on your face.

“My favourite… yes let’s do it.”

The doorbell rang, hearing a muffled “trick or treat!” From behind the wood.

“I’ll get the door… you pop the movie in yeah?” You looked to him as you grabbed the candy bowl.

“Yeah of course.” He looked as you turned around, admiring the way that you looked in your costume as you answered the door to the trick or treaters.

In that time you took handing out candy and closed the door, Spencer had taken a seat on your couch ready to watch the movie, waiting for you to come sit beside him.

Upon your return, Spencer smiled up at you as you sat down. Ready to watch as he pressed play.

The movie plays, the title card with the aerial shot of the carnival in Santa Carla is in view and you focus on the screen- Spencer, trying to get avert his eyes to the screen was looking at you, he couldn’t get over how you looked in that outfit…

He felt bad for not watching the movie, but he enjoyed watching you. He could see the excitement in your eyes as the vampires on their bikes driving off through the sandy dunes and smiled softly at your reactions.

You could feel his eyes on you, knowing that he wasn’t paying attention- but you couldn’t help but love that he was watching you instead of the movie.

You turned to face him, A dash of confidence building up inside you.

“Spence?” You whispered, locking eye contact with him.

Spencer’s eyes went wide and he swallowed hard.

“I-I um…” he stuttered, not being able to look you in the eye. His nervousness settling in as he looked toward his lap.

Using your index finger you pulled his chin up, making him look at you.

“Do you like what you see Spence?” You whisper, your sweet tone sending a shiver down his spine.

Of course he did, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you in your costume.

“Yes…” he whispered, watching you move closer toward him. The gap between you both was agonisingly thin, his pupils blown with desire for you.

Leaning in further, you could feel his shallow, shaky breaths on your lips- feeling his needy desire for you buzzing off of him.

“Do you want this? Do you want me?” You said quietly, smiling at the hitch in his throat.

“Yes… god yes.” He whined, there was nothing in that moment that he wanted more than to have you… to take you.

Taking that opportunity, you moved forward and captured his lips with yours, tasting the lingering candy on his tongue.

Spencer couldn’t help the soft moan that came from within him as you kissed, his slender fingers coming up to your cheek but pausing within an inch of you.

“Can I touch you?” He asked, watching as you nodded. He pulled you into him, his other arm snaking around you and holding you closer as he kissed you once more.

Your hands reached his chest, slowly unbutton his shirt and splaying it open to reveal his torso.

“Pretty boy…” you praised him as you pulled away from his kiss; watching his chest rise and fall shakily at your touch as your fingers ghosted along his warm skin toward the button of his pants, a tent evidently filled the space in front of his zipper.

“W-wait-“ he panted, gently taking your wrist. Leaning forward he encapsulated your lips again. “I-I need to taste you, please.” Spencer’s voice was yearning.

“Hmm…” you replied, a smirk appearing on your lips. “I think that can be arranged.” Spencer watched as you stood up, extending your hand to him.

Taking your hand, he followed you down the hallway to your room. Closing the door behind you Spencer took your waist, walking you backwards to the edge of the bed and lay you down- splayed out for him as your split of your black dress bared your fishnet clad legs.

Spencer looked down at you, in awe of how beautiful he thought you looked in your outfit as he sat down on his knees by the edge of the bed.

His long fingers traced along your thighs, feeling the flimsy material of the tights. He took his bottom lip between his teeth, hands tracing further up your legs to your pelvis.

With a shaky breath, he traced lightly along the front of you- your body quivering for more.

“Can I?” He whispered, looking up at you for permission. After seeing you nod, he didn’t hesitate to dig his fingers in the tights, ripping them open to reveal what lay beneath them making you gasp.

“Spence those were my good ones…” you giggled softly. “I’ll buy you another- fuck I’ll buy you 10 pairs… they look so good.” He praised you, moving closer to where you wanted him most.

So beautiful.” Spencer was in awe as he played with the elastic of your underwear and pulling it to the side, admiring your glistening cunt.

Placing a few kisses to your thighs, he traces his lips up to your pussy- flattening his tongue against you before bringing the tip of it to your clit, swirling around the sensitive nub.

The taste of you was going to be the death of him, moaning at how good it felt- something he could never get enough of.

“Spence….” You breathed out, your hands reaching for his brown hair and pulling at them- eliciting a sudden moan from him as he continued his assault with his tongue.

Your noises filled the room, each going an octave higher as he you reached your peak, the grip on his hair getting tighter as you came hard on his lips and tongue.

Spencer looked up at you, his lips wet with your desire and his eyes filled with want.

Your eyes followed him as he stood up. Starting to fiddle with the button of his pants and letting them fall to the ground at his feet, leaving him in his briefs.

All you could do was stare- your eyes raking over his form, seeing the tent that had formed under his briefs.

He watched your eyes and smirked slightly as he toyed with the elastic, hooking his thumbs under the material and pulling them down setting himself free.

Him standing bare before you was a sight for sore eyes. “God Spencer…” you whispered, admiring him as you went to take off your costume- but he objected.

“Leave it on… please.” He pleaded. “I wanna take you like this…” he said shyly as he took a step over to you and crawled on top the sheets, hovering over you.

He looked over you, seeing you eye him from below in awe- the yearning to feel you overwhelming as he positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you with his tip.

“C-can I?” He whispered, his face coming down a few inches from you as you nodded enthusiastically. “Yes Spencer, please…”

Slowly and steadily, he started to move himself inside you- a gasp falling from his lips he moved his hips, listening and watching as your mouth fell open; the most heavenly sound that has ever hit his ears falling from your lips- calling his name and your fingers digging into his shoulders.

His thrusts became faster, more desperate. The eagerness to please you, to feel you- to make you cum the only goal on his mind.

“I-is this good? Please tell me it feels good-“ he was panting, desperate to hear you praise him. “Sp-Spence you feel so good- so good f’me…” you couldn’t help the shuddering words that came out, ecstasy building up in your core.

A small whimper rolled out of Spencer at your praise, whining as he continued rolling his hips into yours. The pressure of his orgasm was building up inside him quickly.

“I-I’m not gonna last.” He whispered, another whine following his words.

“Let go Spencer, please…”

Spencer’s thrusts became more erratic as he watched you fall over the edge- calling out his name as you came hard around him, clenching yourself around his cock.

His breathing became jagged as he felt himself twitch inside you, his orgasm hitting him like a tidal wave as his cum coated your walls.

“God you’re- you’re so beautiful, so perfect…” he watched as you glanced up at him with half lidded eyes and parted lips that had messy red lipstick all over them, basking in the after glow. His hair stuck to his temples, making you giggle as you unstuck it from his head. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted that, wanted you…” you smiled, touching his cheek gently as though he was made of glass.

Spencer leaned into your touch, his pupils blown with admiration. “Me too…”

There was a silence between you both, before he piped up once more.

“Definitely the best Halloween I’ve had.” He smiled at his own sentence, making you giggle as he lay down beside you- giving soft touches as he held you close- content with being there in that moment with you.

[yanderefarm]

fucking DAN FENG's previous previous incarnation so good the memories latch with every incarnation ever and they're all so head over heels in love for reader like damn.

Reader is basically their mate as if they all know by instinct that he's THE ONE that fucked them SO GOOD.

It's like that with dan feng too, the moment he saw you he just went feral with instinct and need, the unfamiliar yet familiar sensations rushed through him and he acted on impulse, pulling you to his chamber and kissed you hard and rough like all the previous incarnation did before.

It's the same now with dan heng too.

The moment he saw you, next to jing yuan at the devine commission, he had to squeeze his thighs to hold in a whimper

who are you really? dan feng/dan heng

cw;; angst, nsft, tail pulling, blood mention

im sorry for being a whore for the sads. i was thinking about this quest in canon about a vidyadhara and a xianzhou native where this guy falls in love with her in every life but for her it's just losing the person she loves over and over again. i think a relationship between a vidyadhara and a xianzhou native is inherently pretty sad like that but I think adding the fact that dan feng is the xianzhou's biggest fuck up to the mix makes it even more. that's why I wrote it with y/n being kind of distant because like... how many times has he loved this man so much and so deeply only to be forgotten and treated like a stranger?

who are you? dan feng asks himself a thousand times. he knows technically who you are, you're an attendant for general jingliu. he doesn't know why his thighs squeeze around nothing when he's near you, he doesn't know why when you touch him his body grows so hot it's hard to think, he doesn't know why your voice makes him want to fall to his knees. he can surmise you know but he never has the chance to get you alone, he only ever sees you when you're with the general.

then one day you're running an errand for her that brings you to his estate. your errand doesn't matter because the vidyadhara high elder has ordered you to his bed chamber. he was just going to interrogate you. he needed to finally know who you were.

that plan fell apart when you casually entered his room. you were standing there, a knowing smile on your face and your head cocked to the side. dan feng may have lacked the memories of his former lives but his body didn't. with a practiced ease he slipped his robes over his shoulders, his eyes asking if you liked what you saw.

"you're insatiable as always, high elder. I've not yet had a full conversation with you but you're here exposing yourself to me." you stepped forward until your legs reached the bed.

"you know me...?" it wasn't really a question considering you both clearly knew the answer.

you laughed at him. choosing to respond with your hand coming up and gently pushing his robe further off his body. his skin met the cold air and his soft pink nipples immediately hardened earning another warm laugh from you. he felt like you were mocking him but he couldn't bring himself to be offended, instead his heart felt warm.

you traced your fingers down his thin chest until they met where his robes were tied around his waist. "you can stop me whenever you want, high elder."

"dan feng." he said softly, almost embarrassed by himself.

"hm?" you tilted your head at him.

"my name, it's dan feng." that earned him another laugh.

"ahh sorry, dan feng. i've never known any of you to like being called your title." your tone was smug and oh so knowing.

your hand pulled at the knot around his waist finally undoing it and exposing his naked front to your leering eyes. dan feng found himself unable to form words as his cock twitched and swelled with desire that wasn't entirely his. he expected you to mock him, to laugh at his pathetic state that he couldn't even explain. yet you didn't, your arrogant smirk had even disappeared from your lips as you focused your gaze on his body. your head was so close to his that the young dragon could smell your hair but you weren't even looking at him instead your face had an odd expression as you stared at his body. he opened his mouth to speak as your eyes came back up to stare into his, your eyes took his breath away. he'd never seen you this close before but now you were right in front of him so close he could touch you and your beautiful eyes were looking at him with an emotion he couldn't decipher.

"i can help you take care of this, dan feng." your voice sounded odd, lacking the arrogance of before.

dan feng reached up and grabbed your arms with a desperation he'd never felt before. "you know that my body is yours."

a heavy smile crossed your face. "i wouldn't dare lay claim to your body, dan feng."

"... is my appearance not to your liking?" he felt like he'd done something wrong to you and that was the only reason you didn't have him shoved into his bed right now.

you blinked at him before your arrogant smile returned to your face. "you're beautiful."

"then ravish me." he pushed aside the odd feeling in his chest and took up a commanding tone.

you didn't waste any time immediately your mouth was on his, like a man dying of thirst as your tongue pressed to his lips. dan feng who had never known these things in this life felt his body reacting on instinct and pulled you down over top of him. your hands explored him like they had done so a thousand times, effortlessly finding weak spots that he didn't even know existed. one of your larger hands pinched his perky nipple drawing out a loud moan that let you slide your tongue in his mouth. your other hand hiked his thigh onto your hip allowing you easy access to roll your clothed hips against him. dan feng was moaning and squirming under your large body, his hands struggling against the overwhelming pleasure to get your clothes off.

it was only once his cock was red and leaking that you finally eased off of him. your hands were fumbling to quickly pull your clothes off as you took in heavy breaths. despite dan feng's own incompetence when it came to touching you it seemed like you were also aroused. his eyes watched transfixed as you undid your belt, your thumbs hooking into your pants and dragging them down. his eyes immediately fixed on the large bulge in your underwear, his mouth starting to water with desire.

you laughed at his pathetic state. "patience, dear."

your hand came over to rub your thumb over his kiss swollen lips, the slightest brush against his bottom lip had his mouth opening and taking your thumb on his tongue. on instinct he sucked on your thumb, his tongue swirling around the digit with precision he shouldn't have possessed. you moaned, sliding your thumb deeper into his mouth until your whole digit was coated in his spit.

"that feels nice doesn't it, dan feng? i know it feels so good to let your head empty for me." your thumb began to pull out of his mouth slowly but he scraped his teeth against the top of it in a minor attempt to stop you.

"mm such a good boy." your voice was so warm and calming as your thumb pushed back into his mouth.

"its ok, lose yourself. the only thing that matters is pleasing me." you pulled your thumb free from his mouth as his eyes finally grew hazy and distant.

"what do I do...?" dan feng could feel his head grow fuzzy as his body got hotter.

"wanna see you with your tail in the air pretty boy."

all it took was your words and dan feng found himself face down in his bed, his tail held high in the air. you ran your fingers from the base of his tail up drawing an absolutely sinful moan from the high elder. when your fingers finally began to push at his hole they slid in easily like his body had already molded to your shape. his body greeted you like an old friend; his hole already loose and ready for you, your every touch drawing little moans and shivers from him. it didn't take long for him to be a drooling and ready mess against his silk sheets.

your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, they always have. your thick cock fills the pretty dragon beneath you until his stomach is bulging but he doesn't whine in pain. his tail fits so perfectly in your hand and acts like such a good handle so you can jack hammer deep inside him. his pretty pink swollen lips hang open with drool dripping down his chin between his cock drunk babbling. he cums first in his pathetic state, cock spilling all over the sheets before he feels his legs try to give. you don't let him fall, hands keeping his hips in the air when he no longer has the strength to do it himself.

you were planning to make him cum and stop but your body craved him just as much as he craved you. you buried your face into his hair, pressing your chest down against his back, trying to memorize as much of him as possible. you should have completely memorized him by now but every time things like his soft scent and pretty voice were the first things to fade. your nails dug into his hips enough to draw blood but dan feng didn't do anything but moan and whine in reaction. your pretty dragon didn't know that you were currently struggling to ingrain him into your mind, all he knew was that his mate was fucking him like a wild animal.

you mouthed slurred praise against his neck; telling him he was so good for you, so pretty, took him so well, such a good slut. it was hard to tell if it was the hickey you left in his skin or the excess praise that caused him to cum again. his hole tightened so much around you that you lost yourself, finally pumping ropes of cum in his tight ass. his pretty thighs were trembling and he babbled his thank yous clearly believing that was the end of your mating. you only gave yourself a moment to rest before you continued your jackhammer pace.

the pretty high elder was an absolute mess when you finished with him; bruises, bite marks, scratches, cum stains, hand prints. he was so fucked out you had to gingerly move him into place in your arms, you held him like you'd held him a thousand times. his pretty eyes blinked at you as he fought to stay conscious but your hand gently rubbing his back certainly made it difficult.

"mate..." he whined so softly his voice raw from the hours of use.

you pressed a kiss into his hair. "so good for me."

---

from then dan feng didn't receive any answers, you actively tried to avoid his question. but despite the look you would get occasionally you always remained by his side. you felt like you were at a distance but you gave him everything he asked for so how could he be angry? you wish that back then you had let yourself love him properly, you should have indulged yourself in the lovey dovey actions of his past lives. you didn't realize that he would be gone for good.

all at once you lost everything in your life because of your mate's foolishness but you didn't even get the right to be angry at him. you remember when jing yuan stepped up as general and asked you to assist him the same way you had his mentor. at the time you had only asked that you be exempt from attending the high elder's trial, you wanted your last memory of him to be anything but him in chains. if you could have you would remove the last memory of jingliu being covered in your friend's blood from your brain too. but even while the xianzhou recovered you were left to remember the past.

it was the longest 500 years of your infinitely long life. you could tell that several times jing yuan thought he would lose you to the mara but you persisted. you remained a loyal attendant to the general even as the ambrosial arbor looked to tear the ship apart. when you have nothing but time of course everything will eventually recover.

"you don't need to attend." jing yuan sounded thoughtful while you poured his tea.

"i would find it rude to run away from the people who saved our home." your face was emotionless and empty like it had been for a long time. you caught the general giving you a pitying look before he enjoyed his tea.

you couldn't have guessed why he would look at you like that. you couldn't have guessed that tricky bastard wouldn't have just told you. the visitors from the astral express were standing there looking at you, a background employee who had just dropped and smashed a 300 year old tea set all over the divination commission floor. your eyes were fixed on the black haired man, the one who was unmistakably looked just like dan feng. his eyes met yours and the slightest of blushes crossed his cheeks like it had in a thousand life times before.

"i apologize for-" jing yuan was cut off by that soft voice.

"who are you..?"

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

reunion

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.

Notes: Not beta-read because when is it ever.

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: Slow burn; unrequited love; angst; yearning; divorced Art Donaldson; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; safe sex

Summary: It wasn't that Art Donaldson was the one that got away. It was more like Art Donaldson was the one that never really knew you existed.

"Did you hear Art Donaldson is supposed to be here?"

The question is whispered behind you and makes your hand freeze in its signing. You're half-bent over the table at reception, fingers tight around a pen as your mind is jogged.

No way was he turning up, that's what Anne had said.

Tashi will be there, she's the head of the goddamn reunion committee, the ink is still wet on their divorce—that's what Anne had said. Hell, she'd sworn it.

So what the hell is he doing here?

The sound of your name jogs your attention and you manage to finish signing in. You straighten, taking up your name tag and haphazardly slapping the adhesive onto your top. You need a drink, and quickly. You're halfway to the bar before you feel someone wind their arm through yours.

"Okay, I know you didn't wanna come—"

"Anne."

"And I so appreciate you being here so that I didn't have to come alone—"

"Anne—"

"But I got some news and it's going to be a little shocking so I think you should hear it from me—"

"I know he's here."

"What?" Anne freezes, her arm dropping from yours. You turn to see her looking stricken, her cheeks pinking with panic and embarrassment. You sigh softly, glancing around your fellow alumni. Less than half of them look familiar; your eyes catch on the odd face before you realize that you're inadvertently looking for him.

"Look, there are, like...Five hundred people here, alright?" You add. "I probably won't even see him."

"We can go."

"Look, we made the trip, we're here, we may as well stay. It's fine, okay? We're all adults here! It doesn't matter!" Your insistence is chased by a slightly hysterical laugh. "It was, like, a hundred years ago."

"...You're sure?"

"I am positive."

Positive that you need a drink, and positive that you're going to regret agreeing to stay.

--

It wasn't that Art Donaldson was the one that got away. It was more like Art Donaldson was the one that never really knew you existed.

You were friends, sure. You palled around, had a few classes together, hung out at a few parties—but he was so in love with Tashi Duncan that you'd never made his romantic radar. You'd forced yourself to believe that that was for the best, that you didn't need his love or romantic validation to be happy. But you couldn't pretend that wanting him didn't sting.

He'd had a couple of girlfriends while you were at Stanford, but you could always feel, always see that they were never really his priority. It was Tashi, then tennis, then them.

The two of you had kept touch a little after college, but you'd pushed yourself to move on. Conversation had begun to fade, and when he hadn't tried to keep it up, you had resolved to let him go.

You'd avoided his name in the news as much as you can, but it had been hard. He was on billboards, packaging, tv—it was like you couldn't escape him.

Want melted to sadness; sadness shifted to annoyance; annoyance hardened into disdain. You couldn't see his likeness or hear his name without rolling your eyes. It wasn't his fault, of course, but the prospect of running into Art fuckin' Donaldson made you queasy.

Still, you put on a brave face for Anne, forcing your focus into conversation.

It's a struggle to keep your gaze from seeking him out. You take each sip with a little white lie, convincing yourself that you're looking to make sure you can avoid contact. You spot Tashi a couple of times, but you don't go out of your way to say hello. She's surrounded by a cloud of people—taking pictures, signing programs and name tags and old Duncanator shirts.

When Anne insists on going to say hello, you force a small smile.

"You, um—you go ahead," You nod, taking a couple of steps back. "I'm gonna get some air."

Anne's dark eyes flit over you questioningly before she blessedly lets it go, nodding and going on her way. You turn, swiping a fresh drink off of a passing waiter's tray as you leave.

It takes a few moments for the buzz of conversation to clear from your head. You take a gulp of the prosecco, wrinkling your nose. It's a little sweeter than you usually like, and doesn't mingle well with the three other drinks that you've downed. Tashi's not going to find your lack of presence or greeting conspicuous; you'd been cordial and on speaking terms in college, but the two of you had never been close.

Damn, but it's chillier outside than you thought it would be. The reception had been so warm, so crammed with people. Paired your head being near-permanently on a swivel, you hadn't realize how hot and tense you'd been.

You frown at the waft of cigarette smoke that catches your nose. Who the hell is still smoking in this day and age—

"Are you hiding, too?"

Maybe you can feign that you didn't hear him—that the sound of his voice didn't jog a hundred memories and trigger a flurry of butterflies. But before you can stop yourself, you turn, the words, "I thought you quit smoking," tumbling out of your mouth.

Art's smile widens as he draw the cigarette back from his lips, a stream of smoke pushed out of the side of his mouth.

"I did. Quit quitting, though." He takes one more puff before he flicks it away, drifting closer. "Hi."

Hi, like it's not the first time you've seen him in the better part of a decade. Hi, like neither of you are oceans from where you where when you last saw one another.

"Hi," You manage. He doesn't hesitate to draw you into his arms; he seems to almost do it without thinking. You only allow yourself a moment of resistance before you raise and curl your arms around him. The clean scent of his pressed jacket and woodsy cologne are muddled with smoke. The fingers of one if your hands curls covetously in the fabric of his jacket as his palms smooth gently over your back. You hear him draw in a deep breath, feel him hold it, and then release it with a soft hum.

"How the hell are you?"

Probably better than you are these days.

You shrug a little, mumbling, "Fine."

He draws away, eyes skating across your face.

"You don't sound so sure about that."

"I'm sure."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

You can feel him winding up for another pass at it, but you hold your glass out before he can. His fingers brush against yours as he drains it.

"Why are you hiding?" You ask. He shrugs, nods toward the door.

"It's a lot in there. I forgot what these events are like."

"People wanna congratulate you. They're proud."

"Are you?"

"I am, but I'll hold off. Don't wanna crowd you."

Your attention is drawn from Art's smile as you hear someone clearing their throat over the speaker system inside:

"If we could have the reunion chairpersons to the stage, please!"

You glance toward Art and find him fidgeting, his thumb smoothing across his bare ring finger.

"…Do you wanna go back in?" You offer. He considers before he says, "Wait here."

You watch curiously as he darts inside, and are stunned when he reappears a moment later. You just barely catch a glimpse of the bottle of champagne clenched in his fist before he rests his other hand on your lower back, steering you away with an urgent murmur of, "C'mon."

--

"I'm surprised you came," You tell him. Art doesn't look at you for a moment, and you take the chance to lean back against the hard plastic seat. He's as beautiful as he was the last time the two of you were together, the night before graduation—practically in the same seats. You don't know if he was thinking about that when he'd led the way into the stands, chosen where to sit. Maybe it was pure muscle-memory.

Either way, you don't know how long the two of you have been sitting out there, knees bumping, passing the bottle back and forth. You take in his profile—the slope of his nose and cut of his jaw; the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows.

"My therapist said it would be good," He finally admits. "Told me I needed to get out more, start getting back into events, work at the foundation...What about you, huh?" He turns, brows raising. "You always told me that you hated this stuff."

You're surprised he remembers.

"I do hate this stuff, but," You shrug. "Anne didn't want to come alone."

"You're a good friend. I never forgot that." He sits up and passes the bottle back to you. "What happened to us, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did we stop talking?"

I couldn't keep begging for scraps of attention.

"I don't know," You deflect. "Guess we just lost touch. It happens."

"I shouldn't have let it happen to us."

You look down at the bottle, sweeping your finger across a slipping drop of condensation.

"You were busy."

"You weren't?"

"Not in the same way," You laugh self-consciously.

"What were you busy with then, huh?" He shifts, thigh pressing against yours. "You used to always say you'd uh—burn out by twenty-six."

"Yeah."

"Did you?"

"Oh, it didn't take nearly that long."

"What!" He laughs. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know what to tell you, man. A girl can only take a soul-sucking marketing job for so long."

"So what do you do now?"

"Still in marketing, but I'm a manager, so. Still soul-sucking, but making a little more money."

"You like it?"

"God no, but I don't know what else I would do." You pass the bottle back.

"Could find something for you at the foundation."

You wrinkle your nose, shaking your head as Art sputters a laugh, asks, "What?"

"Don't do that, Art."

"Don't do what?"

"I don't need, you know—"

"We could use you—"

"You don't even know what I do at work."

"I bet it's great—"

"You don't even know if I'm a good worker—"

"Sure I do, I know you."

"No, you don't!"

You know it's a mistake the second it leaves your mouth. Art's smile wavers as he leans away again.

"I just mean—" You try.

"I know what you mean. It's been a long time."

"...Yeah, it has." You take the bottle back, drawing deeply from it before passing it back. "I should get going. I'm sure Anne's looking for me."

"Sure."

You don't say goodbye or tell him that it was nice to see him. You just make as hasty a retreat as you can without tripping over your feet.

--

@ a_donaldsonofficial requested to follow you. 3h

You're not sure what surprises you more—the follow request or the message in your DMs: Dinner?

--

His groan is sinful and low, and makes you rethink ever losing contact with the guy. Under the warm glow of the diner's lights, his eyes slip shut, fingers tightening around the bun.

"...When's the last time you had a burger?" You finally manage to ask.

"I can't remember." He admits it through the mouthful, and you don't begrudge him the couple of flecks of food that land on the table. You smile, plucking up a couple of fries.

"Art?"

"Mm."

"Why'd you ask me to dinner?"

Art sets the burger down as he swallows, taking off his napkin to clean off his hands.

"I was thinking...About what you said at the reunion."

"Mhm."

"About me not knowing you. You're right. But you know what?" He presses on before you can process your surprise. "I don't think you know me, either."

You think for a moment, brows furrowing. He's right. You know the image of Art Donaldson that's been projected to you over the years—on tv screens, in magazines, in online clips.

"...I don't think I do," You agree.

"Figured we should fix that. Catch up, fill each other in on what we've missed."

"Okay."

"So, after college..." He trails off, waving his hand. "Fill me in."

"Moved to New York."

"Uh-huh."

"Working in marketing."

"Burned out before 26—"

"Yeah, hit my capitalistic peak at 23."

"That fast?"

"I mean, that's the last time I remember giving a shit about work, so. Yeah."

"Relationships?"

"...A couple," You admit.

"Serious?"

"Yeah. One."

"Married?"

"No. Engaged." His eyes drop to your bare left hand, and you hurriedly tuck it into your lap. "Formerly engaged."

"What happened?"

"It just didn't feel right. I don't think either of us were ready."

"...Was it anyone I knew? I don't remember you dating much at school."

"Guess I didn't."

"You weren't shy."

"Well no, but—"

"So what was it?"

"I had the worst crush on you, dude!" It's another mistake, but where the last one seemed to make Art retreat, this one leaves his gobsmacked. His eyes widen, mouth opening in a wide smile.

"You what?"

"Oh, kay, you know what—"

"I had no idea!"

"I was very subtle."

Art leans back in the diner booth, watching you openly. You can see the gears turning in his head, and you wonder what he may be remembering, holding up and twisting about in this new light.

"...Huh," He mutters.

"You can feel free to forget that at any time."

"I don't think I will...I wish I'd known."

You consider for a moment before you shrug. "I don't know. I'm kinda glad that you didn't."

"Really?" His brows knit with confusion. "Why?"

"I don't like coming second, Art."

Art nods slowly, and you see something tight pass across his face before it's smoothed away again.

"You know what?" He smiles bitterly. "Neither do I."

You nod toward his plate.

"Your burger's getting cold."

--

"So, uh..." Art clears his throat as the two of you take slow, drifting steps to your car. "I'm gonna say two things, and I don't want you to think that they've got anything to do with what you said earlier."

You know exactly what he means, but you just grumble, "I said a lot of things earlier."

"I think we both know which one I'm talking about."

"Uh-huh. So what's up?"

"...I wanna see you again."

"Okay."

"But things are a little...Messy right now. Tashi and I are working on getting Lily into a regular rhythm and it's harder than we thought it would be."

You lean back against your car, tucking your hands into your pockets.

"Mhm...I hesitate to ask."

"Yeah."

"How does this have to do with what I said earlier?"

"I just don't want you to think that this is—"

"A consolation prize?"

"Something like that."

"Whatever you need to do to get in a good place with Lily is fine, Art, you don't need to justify that to me."

"Even if it means you come second?"

You tip your head to the side, pursing your lips. "It's different when it's your kid. I meant that I didn't want to be second to—You know."

"...Yeah," He mutters, looking at his feet as he takes another foot forward. "And for the record, I was thinking of asking you out again by the time we sat down."

"You could've changed your mind."

"I didn't. And I don't want to."

You smile, nodding. "Well I don't want you to, either." You straighten up as you fish into your bag for your keys. "Call me the next time you're in New York."

"Sure."

You reach out, cupping his cheek and leaning in, pecking his cheek. You pull away, smiling at the flush creeping across his face.

"Goodnight, Art."

"Night."

--

It isn't easy at first. Messages are far and few, mostly how are yous and how was your days. You think that as nice as the little swell of contact has been, that's all it'll be—but the two of you both start to really try. The odd text becomes the weekly phone call. Weekly phone calls become daily FaceTimes. On the nights when he has Lily, they're late, usually when you're getting ready for bed. On the nights when he's on his own, the two of you eat dinner together and chat over your calls. It isn't always perfect, but it's more than you could've anticipated from that dinner a couple of months ago.

--

"She down?"

"Yeah."

"Are you in a hotel again?"

"...Yeah." Art seems to admit it grudgingly, and you smile a little as you take up your toner and a cotton pad.

"There's nothing wrong with leaning into it if it's working," You argue. "And not to be that bitch, but you're not exactly broke."

"Might be if she keeps ordering room service and movies on-demand."

You laugh softly, turning your attention to your reflection as you swipe the toner across your face.

"How's your day been?" Art asks.

"Fine, standard. I had to fill out an assessment ahead of my annual review."

"When's that?"

"End of the week."

"How do you feel about it?"

"Mm," You shrug reaching for a serum. "Fine, I guess. I'm doing okay, my team's hitting their targets."

"You're doing better than okay."

"Art."

"You are."

"Well. Thank you for that." You glance over as he goes quiet, catching a glimpse of him as you smooth the serum into your skin. You raise your brows at the sight of his gentle, warm smile. "What is it?"

"You're beautiful."

Your face goes warm at the compliment, and you bite the inside of your cheek to tamp down your wide, idiotic smile.

"You are tired, huh," You deflect.

"I mean it."

"...I know," You murmur, reaching for your moisturizer. "Tell me what you got up to today."

"I had a meeting at the foundation. We're starting planning for the gala."

"Oh yeah? Have you done them before?"

"We've had three before, but I was usually playing or training, so I haven't been as involved in the planning."

"How's it been?"

"We're still in the preliminary stages, but it's been interesting, you know, seeing how the pieces come together before I usually see them."

You nod, picking the phone up from the mirror holder and heading into your bedroom.

"Where are you gonna have it?"

"We're still scouting locations...As a matter of fact," Art adds, "We're considering a few in New York."

"Oh?"

"I'll be down there for at least a few days, and I wanna see you."

You grin bashfully as you climb into bed, settling against your pillows.

"I wanna see you, too. Are you gonna, um—I mean, is Lily gonna be with you?"

"No, it'll be Tashi's weekend."

"Okay, cool. Just wanna make sure I don't mess up your time."

"I appreciate that." Art's tongue swipes across his lower lip, eyes sweeping across your face. "I gotta say..."

"Mmm?"

"I'm looking forward to seeing your apartment."

"Oh, really?" You chuckle. "Why's that?"

"It'll be interesting, that's all. I mean, you already take me to bed every night."

You laugh, covering your eyes as you groan, "Oh, god, shut up!" as Art chuckles.

"Let me know when you're free," You add. "Your schedule's gonna be weirder than mine."

"Yeah, I will, as soon as I know what it is." You watch as Art lays down, propping his phone up on the nightstand. "...Can you stay on?"

"Yeah," You soothe, setting your phone on the nightstand in suit. "Until we fall asleep."

"Okay," He murmurs. The two of you settle in on your sides, watching one another on the phone.

"Night, Art."

"Sweet dreams."

--

The restaurant is picked. Your nails are done, your hair is done; you get a new dress, new shoes, a new bag. You're going to have an amazing night—a good dinner, a great conversation, and, if you have any luck, an amazing good night kiss.

--

You know the minute you see him that you're not making it to the restaurant. Art's eyes sweep over you in covetous wonder when you open the door. He closes the gap between the two of you, drawing you into his arms, and this time you go without a second thought. He presses his face into your neck, letting out a gentle hum at the scent of your perfume. The tip of his nose trails up over your jaw, his lips brushing the corner of your lips as his forehead rests against yours. He sighs as you draw in a nervous breath, and he sways in, lips pressing to yours.

You raise your hand to cup his neck, shivering as his hands smooth over your hips. He guides you deeper inside, blindly reaching back and shoving the door shut behind you as you fling your purse toward the bench in your entryway. His kisses grow hungrier as he steers you down the hall. You slip your tongue along his, smoothing your hand up to grasp his hair. Your fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt, exposing more of his pale, muscled chest to you. He slides down the zipper on the back of your dress and leans away just long enough to draw the dress up over your head. His eyes sweep across you, taking in your lingerie.

You hook your thumbs under the band of your underwear, giving them a teasing wiggle as you back further away from him. You expect him to follow, but he steers you back against the wall, dropping his head to suck hot kisses along your neck and down to your chest. He yanks one of the cups of your bra down, taking your nipple into his mouth. You bite your lip, tipping your head back against the wall and whining as he slots his knee between your thighs. You roll your hips down against the hard muscle as he laves and teases your nipple, reaching up to thumb and tweak the other.

"Art—Mm, god that feels so good."

He groans against your skin, trailing his kisses further down as he lowers himself to his knees. You look down as he curls his fingers around your panties—and waits. You smile softly, nodding, murmuring, "Please?"

Art grins, pressing a kiss to your hip before he gently eases the fabric down, waiting for you to lift your feet so he can fling them away. He leans in, swiping his tongue across your aching clit. Your knees would knock if he wasn't wedged between them. You draw in a shallow breath, letting your head tip back as he draws your leg over his shoulder. You shiver at the feeling of the chilly air against your heated, slick flesh. He nuzzles and laps against your cunt, taking each tip of your hips in stride. His hand smooths up your trembling inner thigh, giving your ass a gentle squeeze before he teases a finger into you. You whimper at the touch, unable to help the way your pussy clenches around it.

Art groans at the feeling, turning his head to smear his lips slips against your hip.

"Goddamn," He breaths against you.

"More."

You feel more than hear his gentle chuckle as he eases another finger in.

"Need it bad, huh?"

"You have no idea."

"I'm getting a pretty good idea." He turns his head, leveling a sucking kiss to your clit that makes you cry out. You tighten your grip on his hair as he pumps his fingers harder, curling and scissoring them as he pushes you closer to the edge.

"Art—Mm, god, fuck, yes—Yes—" Your toes curl in your shoes as your hips rabbit down against his face and fingers, chasing the swell of your orgasm. You look back down as he draws back and find his lips and chin shining with your juices.

"Bed," He urges.

"You can fuck me right here."

Art laughs, standing and smoothing his hand over your thigh.

"We're doing this right."

"We could be doing this right...." You slid your hand down his chest to palm his cock through his pants. "Here."

You grin as Art's eyelids flutter, his dick twitching against you.

"Bed," He insists again.

It isn't far to go, and the two of you are entirely bare by the time you get there. You scooch back onto the bed, spreading your legs as he rolls on a condom. He's over you a moment later, and you watch the bulge of his biceps as he braces his hands on either side of your head. You bite your lip as you feel the brush of his cock against your entrance. You reach down, grasping his cock and guiding him closer.

You tip your head up, tongue teasing the seam of his lips as he eases into you. You melt into the mattress as he crushes against you, filling you completely. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, sliding your legs over his, as if you'll manage to fuse the two of you together. Art's tongue swirls around yours before he captures your lips in a kiss, rolling his hips slowly.

"More," You plead, but Art keeps his pace achingly steady, even when you try to pick up the pace.

"You feel so fucking good," He breathes, "Even better than you taste."

"Harder, Art, please, god damn, please," You whimper. He tips his head to the side nipping at the hinge of your jaw as he reaches down, hiking your hip up even higher. Your mouth fell open with a stunned moan as he presses deeper, the slap of his hips filthily filling the stifling air around you. You arch up against him, nails raking down his back as you feel the swell of another orgasm.

"Art."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm—Fuck, almost—"

"That's it." He sucks his fingers between his lips before he slips them between your bodies, swiping across your tender clit. You begin to close your eyes, but he tuts softly.

"Don't—Don't close your eyes—Look at me," He orders between breaths. You force yourself to focus on Art, taking in the flush on his cheeks, his almost dazed eyes.

"You, too—" You urge.

"Yeah—"

"Oh—yeah," You gasp, unable to keep your gaze on his you cum. You feel Art's hips slap roughly against yours before he slows, groaning low in his chest. You draw in a deep breath as your heart pounds in your chest, sinking back against your pillows as he settles down over you. You smooth your hand over his nape, smiling as he nuzzles against your shoulder, dropping tender kisses to your skin.

"...Art?"

"Yeah?"

"I think we're going to be late for dinner."

--

"You know, I've been thinking."

"You've been doing a lot more than thinking, mister," You mutter, and grin as Art laughs. You cuddle closer against his side, nuzzling into his chest as he tightens his arm around your shoulders.

"I'm glad I didn't know you liked me in college."

"Really?" You tip your head up, brow furrowing. "Why's that?"

"...I wasn't ready for you back then." He smooths his fingers along your jaw, eyes wandering your face contemplatively. "It's like you said, you know. You would've come second."

You nod, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm.

"I don't think I was ready for you, either," You admit. Art smiles.

"And you are now?"

"More than."

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ;

@buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

[rockingbytheseaside]

omg, I am quite literally in love with your work.

pls I cannot tell you how frickin ecstatic I am when I read your stuff 😭 like I’m Fr Rolling on the floor and stopping every five secs bc of the butterflies-

AND! I saw that your asks are open!! (If I misread/misunderstood then I’m so sorry and just ignore this) I was wondering if you could do Harbingers x reader when they find reader quietly weeping- like reader thought they were alone and didn’t wanna burden them :3 romantic if you would !!

no pressure ofc!!!! fr I love ur stuff sm like I’ve been reading ur stuff OVER AND OVER😭😭😭

(bshdhsgdhagjds Okay, let me just hold in my tears- that’s so kind of you anon! Sorry for making you wait, I hope this is something similar to what you wanted) 

✦ How they comfort you when you cry

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe

Sometimes, your days might feel bitter, and sometimes the weight of your inner struggles can accumulate into a somber heap of self-doubt. Whether it was a minute inconvenience that resulted in your dampened mood, or stressful memories of the past – the reasons behind it fade into insignificance. Because next thing you know, you feel your shoulders slightly shaking, and your hand reaching to conceal your silent weeping. Thus, when talking becomes a burden and your breath runs short, your beloved is the first to listen to your sniffles.

✧ Pierro’s already icy gaze becomes unreadable. Is it fear? Is it astonishment? Or is it the readiness to unleash hell upon anything that compelled you to shed these silent tears? He sees you hugging yourself, trying to shield yourself away from him. His gloved hands cautiously reach for your form, like a blanket wrapping itself around your shoulders. 

“My divine one, why hide your tears away from me? Why conceal the sadness in your eyes when you silently weep? Please, grace me with your gaze and look at me.” 

His voice is careful despite its deepness, suppressing his boiling temper at the sight of your sadness. He reaches for you tenderly, and when you turn towards him, you allow yourself to cry further into his chest. He cradles you silently, never once wasting breath on simple shushes or admonishments to cease crying. No, The Jester will hold you, let his lips press softly to your forehead, and let you cry as much as you need. He'll personally worship and wipe every teardrop off your cheek. 

Yet despite his gentle arms, you sense him shaking. His gloved hands hold you securely, yet subconsciously gripping. Because pray to the archons above, he will not rest until the source of your sadness is annihilated. 

✧ Il Capitano never saw you cry before. He saw you as an equal in matters of battles, duels, and personal life. Through ups and downs, your best and worst. And yet the imposing, mighty Captain never witnessed his beloved’s face slowly scowl and emit those saddened sobs as you're doing now. 

“No… who bestowed such sadness onto you, my cherished? What sorrows are you fighting?” 

He asks, half in disbelief and worry. The Captain kneels down, the back of his armored hands gracefully meeting your face. He makes sure you’re not physically in pain, his touch asking permission for the simplest caress. You might feel embarrassed to explain why you're crying, but the Captain will coax you to talk only if you bestow him this honor. Otherwise, he never mocks or admonishes you for crying – “This is not a sign of weakness, but a sign of humanity in your strength.”

To soothe you, he'd drape an arm around your shoulder, bringing the side of his coat to shield you. If you desire, he'd immediately discard his coat entirely and wrap it over your shoulders. And if you desire neither this or that, he'd silently kneel, asking for permission to pick you up in his forearms, so you may rest on his shoulder while he carries you away. 

✧ You cannot conceal your sorrows from Il Dottore. He suspects you are feeling dejected before you even realize it. Should your shoulders quiver and tears well in your eyes, he'll be the first to perceive it. His already tense countenance will harden, and in short, murderous intent, he’ll ask:

“Who did this to you?”

His first suspension is that someone foolish enough dared to hurt you, and his next task is to seek out that moron. And stars above, if someone did ruin your day, the Doctor will have a new cadaver on his lab table. You'll have to physically restrain the Harbinger in front of you by putting your hands on his shoulder and explaining hurriedly that no one did anything harmful. 

Il Dottore won't quell his inner rage so easily though. As you shake your head, and rub your eyes, it will require much persuasion to convince him that it’s not as dire as he suspects. Nonetheless, Dottore will keep a tight hold on your form. If he won't murder someone in rage, then he'll prepare a soothing beverage and wrap you up in a comfortable seating so you may rest your weary head. He’ll have to personally drag you to sit by his lap so you won’t desolate yourself into a depressive fit again. 

“Wasting your breath and energy on crying is a futile endeavor. You'll only tire your body out… so rest in my arms before your mind starts weaving more puny sentiments.” 

✧ The ever-prideful and strict Scaramouche would find himself faltering into silence when the unfamiliar sound emanates from your being. The hiccupped sounds of choked cries are not foreign to him - he recognized them very well and was personally acquainted with the physical pain of crying. But seeing the closest being, the one he calls most cherished, to unexplainable weep was a new form of pain he had never experienced. 

“... Are you-? What's wrong, are you hurt? Did something-!”

An expression of shock and fear bestows the Balladeer, his hands are reluctant and afraid to cross your boundaries when you cry in front of him. His first instinct is to believe that he has erred, that he has hurt you or spoken insensitively. Anguished, his fist tightens, dreading your stern rejection. Yet, all it takes is a gentle shake of your head and a soft reassurance - no, he hasn't actually done anything wrong.

His brow will remain furrowed, and only under your permission, he would glue himself to you in a reassuring embrace. It's only after he's assured of your safety and well-being that the Harbinger begins to ease up and scoff. Maybe, just maybe, he will go and bring your favorite sweets afterward. Regardless, his hands kept cupping your face, thumbs gently wiping your tears.

“Ha, you’re that sensitive that you’d weep at the most minor inconvenience? Fine, I’ll stay here. But don’t get too comfortable. And you better stop apologizing for crying. You should never say sorry for something like that. It’s in your right to cry… Just come to me when something’s troubling you, alright?”

✧ You cannot recall a single instance when Pantalone's captivating smile ever wavered. The man has perfected his charismatic, million-mora smile that only you can discern if he’s being genuine or not. But to witness it dropping completely in a cold stare while you cried was chilling. You felt scared, as the Harbinger grew eerily silent with each slow step, he demanded:

“... Give me names and I will make sure they will disappear permanently.”

You jolted. This was bad, and it sure didn’t quell your sobbing as you hurriedly shook your head. Pantalone took a deep sigh, his brain forced to flip a switch and change to a more tender tone so he wouldn’t scare you further with his sinister rage. He will deal with the causes later. What mattered now was your shaken state. Hence, like the dotting lover he is, he softly inquired whether you wish to talk or have some privacy. 

If you willingly welcomed his physical touch, then prepare yourself for a day filled with him enfolding you tightly. He will draw you near, letting you cry your frustrations out until you get fatigued and rest against his lean chest. The Regrator always fulfills his pledges, gently rocking you back and forth. He will vow to spoil you on the next shopping spree and purchase everything you desire - luxuries, clothes, perfumes, or fancy meals, all of it is yours with a snap of his fingers (even if you reprimand his indulgence). His embraces are tenacious, endless kisses raining down on your face until you plead and whine to be released from his insistent hugs.

"My heart, how can I possibly release you when you should be adorned with kisses instead of tears? I am afraid I won’t be so easily reassured until I see your smile again."

✧ Tartaglia’s highlight of the day is mirroring your luminous smile; hence when he first heard your sorrowful sniffles, it felt like a sudden dark cloud washed past him, pouring cold water to wipe his smile off in an instant. Without hesitation, his hand found itself on your shoulder as he guided you to sit first.

“Hey, hey… What’s wrong, darling? I’m here, it’s alright.”

He observes your attempt to explain the root of your troubles, but as you try to elaborate, your tears only intensify against your own will. Kneeling in front of you, his gaze was resolute - he now had a mission. He will immediately soothe your mood with tender words of endearment, lighthearted banter, and the occasional joke here and there, anything to make you crack up with that sweet smile he so adores.

Tartaglia will remind you that first and foremost, he is your Ajax - the one who will bring laughter through his playful teasing and delightful humor during your times of melancholy. The one who will cook you the best Snezhnayan Bliny better than any pancake restaurant. And the one who will always be there so you can lean your head on his shoulder and just feel his heartbeat as he embraces you deeply. In any other circumstances, he is the 11th of the Fatui Harbinger who will work and bloody his fists for your safety. However, for now, you shouldn’t occupy your thoughts with such concerns.

“Hey, it’s alright… You don’t have to feel embarrassed for crying. We all have bad days from time to time. How about this, leave today’s dinner on me. I shall cook your favorite even better than you could imagine! Or else what sort of boyfriend would I be if I’m not spoiling my darling.” 

[kaisturni]

apologies | c. sturniolo

→ a make up sex oneshot with chris x fem!reader

→ includes; smut, fighting, f!oral, unprotected sex

→ a/n; based on this request by anon! hope u love it as much as i love u! also i made myself my pfp what do u guys think 😗

NOT PROOFREAD

_______________________________________________

“god, just fuck off! shut up already!”

you stare at chris in disbelief, feeling the tears weld up in your eyes.

you had arguments with him sure, but you would never expect him to talk to you that way.

regret instantly fills his eyes as he sees you run upstairs, “wait baby-”

“no! leave me alone,” you say through your tears, locking yourself in chris room, throwing yourself on his bed and sobbing into his pillow.

about 10 minutes pass, and your cheeks and eyes still haven’t dried. just then, a knock is heard at the door.

you unlock the door hope it’s matt or nick, but it’s chris; standing in the doorframe with a somber look, red puffy eyes and lips.

he’s been crying too.

“before you tell me to get out, i want to apologize,” he says bluntly.

you sit yourself back onto the bed and cross your arms, “okay, then apologize,”

he begins to ascend down to one knee; ready to beg for your forgiveness.

“i’m so sorry baby, i was way out of line, i swear. let me make it up to you,” he pleads, sad eyes turning into desperation.

you sigh, unable to stay mad at him; especially when he’s like this with you.

“okay, fine. i’ll forgive you,” you uncross your arms and open them, inviting him for a hug.

he wastes no time in allowing himself to enter your arms, nuzzling into your neck, planting a few soft kisses.

“makin’ it up to you baby. i promise,”

✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

“fuck, chris! right there,” you pant; chris’ face is between your legs, devouring you like his last meal.

this is his way of saying sorry, and you’re not mad about it.

he pushes your legs further apart for more access, going between sticking his tongue in you and making figure 8’s on your pussy.

you’ve got firm grip on his hair, bucking your hips up whenever his tongue enters inside you, only making him go crazier by the minute.

✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

you’ve lost count of how many orgasms you’ve had, and chris is still pounding into you by the second.

he circles your clit while fucking you, you both groaning every time his hips meet yours.

“m’ so sorry baby, didn’t mean a word,” chris breathes out through his thrusts.

he spews praises at you as you both reach your high, collapsing his body down next to you.

you look at each other, panting heavily,

“remind me to get mad at you more often.”

[poguehearted77]

Between The Lines

Summary-> It's the little things that go on behind the scenes between you and Drew that makes your chemistry electric.

Belongs to my: OBX Season 5: Payback for Maybank Series

These can be read in any order!

"Park place." Maddison narrates where Drew lands his dog piece across the monopoly board. "I'll buy it." He says but your hand is in his face, "Not so fast. I'm sure you would love to buy it if I didn't already have a hotel on it. You owe me $1500. Pay up." You show him your open palm, ready for lots and lots of cash.

"He's so cooked. Look at that pathetic stack of cash Drew has. I've got piggy banks with more than that." Jonathan's comments send the four of you erupting into a fit of laughter which eventually dies down to a patient silence. "Sometime today would be great." Madison clears her throat.

"Josh is coming!" Drew points, appealing to your gullibility and you all fell for it. By the time you realized he was bluffing, the board was tossed and the pieces were all out of place. He gets up and runs off as if he already knew you'd be hot on his heels.

Your outburts left JD and Madison alone to pick up the pieces, but not without an interesting conversation. "50 bucks they're together by the time we finish the season." Madison says it so casually as she reaches underneath the couch for the pieces.

"So I'm not crazy? You see it too?" He looks almost relieved. "Trust me, I've got a knack for these things." JD seems skeptical about the timeline of the bet. "I dunno, we finish filming in four months. That might be too soon, I say by the premiere."

The both of them look up to Carlacia who seemed to have been streaming live on her istagram. She enters the room mumbling something about getting winded by you and Drew sprinting past her.

Madison scoffs, "That's like nine months from now. They could get together and break up by then, but you know what-- If that's what you wanna bet, then be my guest." She holds out her hand and JD shakes on it. "You're on."

"We're ready for you guys." One of the assistants notifys them that it was time to head to the screening room where the weekly table reads were held.

Today would be your first look at the script for the second episode, and to say you were shocked was an understatement.

Script Summary:

Eventually the pogues put their trust in Piper and she gives them a fair exchange of some arms that they can handle, while she opts for her weapon of choice, a steel pipe.

"How do you think I got the name and the scar?" She says and it puts an odd sense of comfort among the group, minus a skeptical Rafe, to know you were confident enough in your skills that you didn't need a gun.

They beleived they were in good hands, until they realized they weren't. There was movement coming from the bushes and it made the pogues stand on guard, beckoning them to come out. Soon, the figures finally revealed themsleves. More mercenaries.

"Nicely, done Piper. It seems you can still make yourself useful after all." The red-headed woman speaks up, tossing you a pouch of money that you caught with one hand effortlessly.

"Never doubt my capabilities, it's insulting." You warn, tucking the pouch into the bag strapped across your back. The british woman continues, "Y'know, Mr. Finch could use your talents again. Once we're done tying up loose ends, we're headed back to home base in Lisbon."

Rafe is livid. He knew he couldn't trust you. It couldn't be by pure coincidence that the mercenaries popped up in the middle of this oasis when you were leading. "Lisbon? You told us Finch was here-" Kiara exclaims and Rafe interrupts.

"It was all a lie, from the very beginning. Mr. Alami, the merchant from Agapenta, he was working with you, wasn't he? You knew he'd send us to you, and now you got your sad little payout from these dipshits for bringing us to them." Rafe seethes.

"I'll neither confirm nor deny that claim, love the enthusiasm though." Your attitude remains unbothered throughout the ordeal until Pope demands, "What do you want from us? We don't have the crown! Groff took it." The red head shrugs casually, sharpening her blades as she approaches the group.

"Don't you worry, Groff will get what's coming to him. For now, it's time to repay the debt that is owed. You get blood on your hands, I get blood on mine." Your eyes bulge, "Hang on, you never said you wanted to kill them." You step in and the woman pays you no mind.

"Perhaps because It's none of your concern. You've got your cut, now's a good time as ever to leave. It's about to get messy." She retracts her hand, about to plunge the blade into Pope when she's knocked out cold by a flying piece of steel.

The group looks over to you in shock, fear, and a hint of gratitude, but there's no time to gush about it when there's suddenly a brawl that breaks out between the mercenaries and the pogues.

You all hardly take them out before escaping.

"Piper, what the hell?!" John B yells and his anger is heavily agreed on in the group, you take it on the chin before offering the most sincere apology you could come up with. They're unconvinced. "I deserve that. Everything you heard back there is true. Finch's Fortress is in Lisbon. If you find him, you'll find Groff," You trail off, reaching into your bag, handing Cleo the pouch of money you'd just gotten.

"Take this. It's more than enough to get you a boat big enough to get across the atlantic and even have some leftover for food for a few days. When you arrive on the coast of Cascais, you'll need to head north in-land."

There's silence.

A long silence, nervous glances between the pogues and Rafe's eyes roll. "You guys cannot seriously be considering trusting her. She almost had us killed! Am I the only one who cares about making it back home?"

"Just shut up, Rafe!" John B silences him, and Pope speaks up. "Listen, I don't know about you guys but Piper just saved my life when she didn't have to. We've already lost someone. Going after Groff could be a suicide missison for all we know. But we all know this isn't about our safety, it's about revenge. For JJ." His speech is moving, the expressions agree.

"For JJ." They all agree.

"To Lisbon we go." Cleo chimes, and the group moves on.

End of Script*

You had just finished reading the script and you were blown away. The cast never knows what to expect whenevfer a new script is dropped in front of them.

"Wait a minute... If the pogues are going to Lisbon in the next episode then," Madison trails off and the director ties in, "So are we. Pack your bags, flights are booked for Saturday morning at 5am, please do not miss these flights, we're not opposed to writing you out!" Josh jokes and there's excited and shock all around the table.

You knew that the last season of the show had implied that the pogues would be on their way to Lisbon but it never dawned on you that it would be so soon, even though it made sense.

"You ever been to Portugal?" Drew leans in, a soft whisper in your ear tickled your skin and made the hairs on the back of your neck at attention. "Never, have you?" He thinks about it, "If a layover counts then yes, yes I have." You're not sure if the joke was funny or if it just left the mouth of an incredibly attractive man, nonetheless, it made you giggle.

Madison kicks JD from under the table, jutting her chin towards the two of you giggling in secret and he rolls his eyes. "Patience." He says it calmly, but Madison is impatient, she knows she'll reign triumphant by the end of it all.

-

It’s a Friday night—or, more accurately, the early hours of Saturday morning. The world outside your accommodations complex is still cloaked in sleep, and you should be too. But no. The responsibility of making your flight in two hours has ripped you from the warmth of your bed. Groggy but determined, you scrambled to gather your belongings, knowing you wouldn’t be back.

After a last sweep of the room, you opened the door with a flicker of confidence—only to jump at the sight of a six-foot-two figure standing in your doorway.

“Drew! Oh my god, you scared me.” Your hand flew to your chest in a theatrical gesture, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

A small smile tugged at his lips, his eyes crinkling slightly. “Sorry. Just wanted to make sure you were actually up. Everyone else already left. There’s one driver still waiting downstairs.” His voice was smooth, annoyingly easy to listen to this early in the morning. Too easy.

“You sound oddly refreshed for 3 a.m.,” you quipped, your own voice still husky from sleep as you grabbed your suitcase.

“That’s the beauty of insomnia.” He shrugged, gesturing to his temples with a finger like it was some kind of genius life hack. “You can’t wake up tired if you never really sleep.”

The elevator dinged open, and the two of you stepped inside. The silence that settled was heavy, charged with something you couldn’t quite define. It hung there until you both spoke at once:

“So where are you—” “How did you—”

You broke into quiet laughter, and Drew’s mouth twitched with amusement. “You first,” he said, giving you a slight nod.

“How did you know I hadn’t already left with the others?” you asked, tilting your head curiously. For a moment, something flickered across his face—an emotion too quick to name—before a light blush dusted his cheeks. He masked it with an easy tone.

“I did some askin' around,” he replied, the answer short and almost vague. It was just enough to spark your teasing instincts.

“Ah,” you said with a smirk, “so you missed me?”

Instant regret settled within you. The elevator seemed too small, too still as Drew turned to look at you, his gaze steady and disarming. For a heartbeat, he didn’t respond, and your cheeks grew warm under his stare.

“You could say that,” he finally said, the ghost of a smirk curling the corner of his lips. His attention shifted to the elevator doors as they slid open, leaving you to wonder if you’d imagined the whole thing.

The ride to the airport was longer than expected thanks to roadwork that forced a detour. You should've been annoyed, but at some point, your head found its way to Drew’s shoulder, and your eyes fluttered shut. The fabric of his hoodie was soft against your temple, and his warmth lulled you into a half-dream state.

Drew didn’t dare move. The weight of your head against him was almost too perfect, and he fought the sudden urge to reach for your hand resting on your lap. Instead, he focused on the ticking clock in the back of his mind and the quiet hum of the car.

When you arrived, he sprang into action. “C’mon, we don’t have time to waste,” he murmured, grabbing your suitcase and his carry-on in one hand while ushering you toward the terminal with the other.

You barely had to lift a finger. Drew handled everything—tickets, baggage check, even navigating customs—with practiced efficiency, his jaw set and his movements quick. He wasn’t just organized; he was determined.

“Do you always walk as fast as a drill sergeant?” you teased as you reached the gate, breathing a little easier now.

He shot you a look, his lips twitching. “I'm not a huge fan of being late,” was all he said. But the way his eyes lingered on yours for half a second longer than necessary told you there was more to it than that.

Finally, you made it to your seats in first class. You settled across the aisle from Madelyn, who flashed you a bright smile.

“I was starting to think you two wouldn’t make it,” she teased, leaning toward you with a glint in her eye. There was an underlying subtext to her words but you were too tired to decipher it.

“Drew made sure that didn’t happen,” you replied with a soft laugh. The words were simple, but they carried a warmth you couldn’t quite suppress.

From behind your seat, Drew caught the sound of his name on your lips--and god did he love the way it sounds. He didn’t know what you’d said, but it didn’t matter. The fact that you were talking about him stirred something in his chest.

As the flight began, you glanced back once, meeting his gaze. He held it for a fraction of a moment before looking away, his expression unreadable.

And yet, for the rest of the flight, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Couldn’t stop replaying the memory of the weight of your head on his shoulder—or wondering what it might feel like to hold your hand in his.

Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza, @wearemadeofstardust0, @cadhlabear, @thepopcultureaddict, @citr0us, @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account, @madi44444,

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now

in which an impulsive voicemail leads to some secrets being spilled.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader. warnings/tags: angst (sorry i’m incapable of being nice lol) hurt/comfort tho!! lil bit of fluff too because i AM capable of being nice, alcohol consumption as a coping mechanism (i’m literally just a girl…) spencer and reader are broken up :( but they’re still sooo in love and it’s soo obvious so it’s fine!! (also it kind of gets fixed at the end-ish. you’ll see *evil smirk*) reader cries a lot (real) spencer is a cutie (as always) spencer and reader sleep together…no like literally, not in a funny business way, some swearing, no use of y/n!!! wc: 3k a/n: hihihi!! so this is my first fan fiction i’ve wrote and completed ever (gulp) it’s also my first time publishing one (gulp) my writing could definitely be better and so could my grammar tbh but i HOPE if you choose to read you’ll enjoy…feedback is always appreciated (plsplspls) also like requests?? if anyone’s into that—id love to write more but inspo is difficult sometimes. if there’s any spelling mistakes im sorry, eye am very tired!! it’s 5am *eye twitching* okay i’m going to sleep, gootbye IF U SAW ME EDITING THIS 5 TIMES NO U DIDNT (i’m bad at tumblr ok..)

“Hi. This is Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m not available right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”

His tinny voice cut off to make way for the signature beep of the beginning of a voicemail recording.

You could hang up now—you should hang up now, save yourself some dignity and go drown your sorrows in alcohol like a normal person instead of calling your ex-boyfriend.

You should, but your mouth was opening before your finger could reach the hang-up button, and…and it was a losing battle from the moment you clicked on Spencer’s icon.

“Uh—hi, it’s…it’s me.” You huffed out a sad laugh.

“So, um, I…I tried calling, but you didn’t answer so…” The static buzz of silence hummed through your ear, just inches from where you held your phone with a shaky grip. “maybe you’re on a case or out with friends, or someone else—“ You let the implication hang in the air—the thought of Spencer potentially being in a relationship bringing a lump to your throat.

You swallowed it down.

“I just…I just had an unbelievably shitty day, Spence.” You sniffed, wiping the moisture that had escaped from your eye with your sweater sleeve. “I know you’ve never read A Series of Unfortunate Events but I think I’d give those kids a run for their money.” You tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob.

You inhaled shakily, trying to collect yourself and remember why on earth you thought it would be a good idea to call Spencer when you’d been broken up for months. Hell, you hadn’t heard from him at all since you had parted ways—except from the odd text about returning each others’ things. It was obvious he had moved on, and here you were, filling up his voicemail with blubbering messages and making references to adolescent books.

“God, sorry about this.” You breathed out a watery chuckle. “I just…didn’t want to be alone, I guess. But that’s-um-not your problem anymore, so I’m—I’m sorry. Have a nice night.” Your voice cracked and you hung up before you could start weeping down the line. You didn’t need to look even more pathetic.

You pulled your phone away from your ear, looking down at his contact photo through blurred vision. He was smiling—not the tight, closed lip smile he gave other people, but a full, bright smile that had his dimples showing. One of your hands was wrapped loosely around his neck and the other was holding your phone just far enough away to capture both of your smiles. Your head was rested on top of his shoulder, tilted just slightly to the left so your temple was brushing against his.

It felt like looking at a vintage photograph—you knew those people and their happiness existed at some point in time, but it wasn’t tangible; you couldn’t verify it was real.

When you were with Spencer, you never doubted how real it was. All you had to was look at him across the room and he’d flash you a smile identical to the one in that photo and you’d just…know.

It felt like forever ago now that you’d been on the receiving end of that grin and it killed you. So much so that before you could consider the repercussions, you were trudging through to your kitchen and grabbing the bottle of whiskey that sat unopened in your cabinet. It had been a present—from Rossi, actually. When Spencer had first introduced you to the team, the older man had given it to you as something of a welcome gift. Of course, he couldn’t have known you weren’t much of a drinker, and since you wanted to make a good impression (and because you were sure it had cost more than all the alcohol you had consumed in your life combined) you accepted it—deciding to save it for a rainy day.

You think this qualified.

You grabbed the bottle, a glass, and padded back through to your living room, slumping onto your couch. You filled your glass up a little less than halfway before gulping it down, enjoying the burn in your throat—it was better than the constant thickness.

You poured yourself another glass before turning on the TV. You weren’t sure what was playing—it didn’t really matter anyway, your vision was already being obscured by tears again.

You thought the pounding was in your head at first—serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Only, it wasn’t, because moments later the pounding subsided and instead, your apartment door was opening, casting your pitch-black living room in a yellow glow which temporarily blinded you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind hazy—again, serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Someone was calling your name, but there was too much sensory input for you to make out who.

You certainly hoped it wasn’t a paramedic—maybe your neighbour had heard you sobbing for the last four hours and decided you needed a wellness check. Then there were hands on your face, and that had you flicking your eyes open, because you recognised those hands—impossibly soft, with a callus on his trigger finger being the only thing to mar them. Spencer.

“Spencer?” You slurred.

He sighed in exasperation (or relief) and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright? You weren’t answering your phone, I thought…” He trailed off, worry evident in his voice.

You sat up then, trying to compose yourself even though the room was spinning. Fucking whiskey. You rubbed your eyes haphazardly, blinking until you could finally see.

You should’ve stayed bleary-eyed. Because nothing could prepare you for the way your breath hitched when you finally saw him. After months of not seeing each other, Spencer was here, sitting on your couch, and he was looking at you like you were something fragile, and—God, you needed another drink. You turned away from him, reaching for the neck of the bottle as you spoke.

“I’m fine.”

Before you could lift it up, Spencer gently pried your hand away from the bottle with his own, and then slid it across the coffee table with his other.

“You’re drunk. No more of that, please.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but he left no room to argue. You probably would’ve objected anyway, if it weren’t for the way he kept his hand clasped around yours, rubbing soothing circles into your pulse point almost absentmindedly.

You glanced up to him—to stop yourself from staring at your hand in his and how natural it felt, more than anything—but that proved to be a mistake too, because he looked just as beautiful as thirty seconds prior and it felt just as natural for him to be sitting next to you on your sofa, but it wasn’t natural anymore.

“How did you get in?”

“My key.”

“Oh.”

Right. The key that he still had because you refused to meet up with him to let him return it. He tried for weeks to contact you, but you ignored him, because getting the key back meant things were finally over. You supposed he could return it now—maybe that’s why he came in the first place.

“Why did you come?” You asked, your voice impossibly small.

“You called.” He replied—as though he was talking about something as simple as the weather. You call and I come.

You searched in his eyes for any sign of a lie, but of course, there was none. He was being completely genuine—as always. You were the awful ex-girlfriend who left concerning voicemails on his phone and had him travelling to your apartment in the middle of the night only for him to look completely okay with the situation—like there was nothing he’d rather be doing than making sure you were safe.

You couldn’t help the way tears sprung to your eyes or your lip began to tremble as you lolled your head back onto the couch, pulling your gaze away from his.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

You liked to consider yourself to be a strong person. You had been through things in your life that were objectively worse than your breakup with Spencer, but something about the gentleness of his tone and the way he had let one of his many (past) petnames for you slip had your throat tightening and you ducked your head into your one hand—the other still seized by Spencer’s—to try and muffle a sob.

“Hey,” He trailed his hand that was wrapped around yours up your arm, all the way to your shoulder blade before lightly guiding you towards him. You don’t have enough energy in you to fight his magnetic pull, so you shuffle over until you can bury your head into his shirt. You inhale his scent; vanilla, neroli, and so him it makes you ache.

Stopping your tears is futile—you’d know, they’d barely ceased all night—so you just let them fall, seeping into Spencer’s tie as he rubs one hand softly up and down your back, the other cradling the crown of your head.

His breathing is quiet and slow—the exact opposite of yours—and you try to imitate it—forcing air into your lungs. When your sobbing has turned to shaky breathing and the occasional sniffle, he speaks up.

“Do you want to talk?”

Talk about what? About what had happened today—what had led you to calling him? Talk about how for the last few months, he had been the only person you had wanted to call?

“No.” You hated how pitiful you sounded.

“Okay.”

Spencer didn’t say anything else for a minute—your synchronised breathing being the only thing to stop the room from falling into dead silence.

“You need to rehydrate.” He murmured, smoothing down your hair.

You hummed into him, in no hurry to unwrap yourself from his body. You probably wouldn’t get to be this close to him again, after all.

He moved both of his hands to your biceps, pulling you back slightly so you could look at him. He knitted his brows together in a silent plea which had you rolling your eyes petulantly, your lashes still damp from tears.

“Fine.” You peeled yourself off of him, pushing yourself into a standing position. Horrible mistake. You were still incredibly drunk, turns out, and everything was spinning a little bit and come to think of it, you were also nauseous and—

“Careful, lovely.” Spencer placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, keeping you upright.

and—actually, you were fine now.

He stood too, moving his hand just slightly over to your waist so he could guide you to the kitchen. When he knew you could stand upright—even if you were relying mostly on the counter behind you—he grabbed a glass from your cabinet, moving around effortlessly to pour you some water. The sight was so domestic you almost wanted to cry again. Maybe in some alternate timeline, where you and him could’ve worked, this would be an every day thing—minus the drunk sobbing part, of course.

He handed you the glass of water, watching as you took a few sips. He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head slowly.

“Whole thing, please.”

You let out an exasperated (affectionate) sigh and gulped the rest of it down, setting it on the counter behind you.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

You smirked, trailing your gaze down his body. He was still in his work clothes which, at the very least, meant he wasn’t on a date before he came here. He always changed before dates—well, for you, anyway. You wondered if he had been on any dates since the breakup—you certainly hadn’t. It had been long enough now that it wouldn’t be weird for you to start seeing other people—but you didn’t want to. You weren’t sure you’d ever want to, to be completely honest.

The more you thought about it, the more the whole thing seemed stupid. You didn’t want anyone else, you wanted Spencer. You had tried to get over him but if tonight was any indication—it clearly wasn’t working. You can’t even remember why you broke up in the first place—it all seemed so insignificant now. No amount of pain you had ever experienced in your relationship had come close to that of living without him.

You met his eyes once more and it was like he could see the question brewing. He tried to stop you, calling your name in a quiet warning, but you ignored him.

“Why did we break up?”

He frowned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth with his tongue in that maddening way he did.

“I—you know why—“

“No, but I don’t! I know things were difficult sometimes but that doesn’t mean it didn’t work. It worked—we worked.” Your eyes were stinging again.

Spencer pressed his index and middle finger into his eye, furrowing his brows.

“I know, I know we worked, angel—but you were sad all the time, remember? I was gone so often and it wasn’t good for you.” His true emotions were indecipherable but his tone was soft, and you wished you could be as calm about this as him. Did he just not care as much as you did?

“But It’s—It’s worse now—“ You choked out, tears falling freely now. “I was sad when you were gone, but you always came back—you don’t come back anymore.”

Spencer removed his hand from his face, flexing it at his side like he was uncertain what to do with himself before taking a stride towards you. He brought a hand to your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes delicately—like you were made of porcelain.

“Listen, sweetheart—alcohol affects your ability to regulate your emotions and I know right now it might feel worse but that doesn’t mean it always—“

“Spencer, stop! It’s not the fucking alcohol, I miss you! I miss you all of the time! Even—even when I’m having a good day—I still want you—and especially when I—when I have a bad day—“ You choked out through heaving breaths.

“Breathe.” He urges, cupping your cheek. And you’re so, so angry, and sad, and tired that you have no choice but to shut up and listen to him. When you’ve adequately calmed down, he moves his hand to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I don’t think we should talk about this tonight but I—“ You open your mouth to protest.

“I promise we can talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober—if you still want to.”

Your lip trembles of its own volition and you frown.

“Of course I want to.”

“Okay,”

“Okay.”

He gives your eyes a final wipe before he’s—rather unexpectedly—pulling you into a hug. You all but melt into him, your head finding its home in his sternum and your arms wrapping around his middle. He tilts his head down, kissing the top of your head—and you’re certain you can’t let this go again. You will chain him down before Spencer leaves this apartment again.

Everything is wordless from there—mostly because you’re so, so exhausted that even talking seems like too difficult a task. Spencer helps you find something more comfortable to change into and you pull out an old t-shirt of his and a pair of plaid pyjama pants you had kept here for him. I guess your keeping them ‘just in case you needed them in the future’ had come in handy, after all.

As you washed your face, Spencer snuck through to the kitchen, refilling your water and grabbing two aspirin in a not-so-subtle attempt to help the inevitable hangover you were going to have in the morning.

You caught him placing them on your bedside table and mock gasped.

“Trying to drug me in my sleep so you can make a run for it in the night?”

He grinned lazily—exhaustion creeping up on him as well.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You smiled, flopping yourself onto your bed rather ungraciously. Spencer looked at you like you were something fascinating before biting his lip, clearly deep in thought.

“What?” You let out a self-effacing little chuckle.

“I was just…wondering…if you’d like me to sleep on the couch?”

You probably should’ve been more careful in your facial expressions considering you were still broken up but your thoughts about that offer were obvious.

“No, stay.” Stay in your bed, in your apartment—stay anywhere that was close to you.

Maybe you were coming on a little too strong.

“Unless you want to, I mean—“

“No, no—I’ll stay.” Forever, preferably.

He walked around to the other side of your bed—as he had done so many times before—and sat down, pulling the covers over his legs. You mirrored his movements before flicking your bedside lamp out, turning to face him.

You were a little thankful you were so out of it, because this had the potential to be very awkward otherwise. Spencer shuffled down so that he was at eye level with you, turning to face you as well.

You just stared for a moment, committing him to memory. The moonlight had a way of highlighting all the high points of his face, and the twinkle in his eyes, and—God, you were so glad the moon existed and that Spencer was in your bed that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Spencer laughed along with you, even though he had no idea what was so funny.

“Nothing. You’re pretty.”

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Why?”

“Scared you’ll be gone when I wake up—like I made it all up.”

Spencer’s smile faded then, and he looked at you with something that seemed so much like the one thing you had been willing yourself to stop doing the whole time that you’d been broken up, that it almost took your breath away.

“I won’t. I promised, didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“So there’s nothing to worry about. Now get some sleep, lovely.”

You smiled, feeling Spencer’s hand inching towards yours. He intertwined them and gave yours a squeeze.

“Just in case you make a run for it in the night.”

You chuckled, your eyelids fluttering shut. Yeah, you could make it work.

part two!