#just rotating ways to make it worse really

[jamiesfootball]

Now playing with a fic idea that essentially boils down to:

Jamie finds out about his email getting hacked. He goes to apologize to Keeley before anything else (gotta take care of keeley first, yeah?). Then when he gets home after meeting with his agent / whoever else would be involved in helping fix everything, he gets a message from one of his friends back in Manchester that reads:

‘Bruv what the fuck? Your mum just got doxxed’

Actually it’s really weird that Jamie’s email got hacked and it’s just never addressed again. Or addressed

Obviously there were bigger breaches of privacy going on in that episode (and what happened to keeley was definitely more violating), but that’s still a… really significant breach of privacy to toss out in a one liner. Especially if it was, as we are given to believe, his personal email address. His friends and family email address. If it’s also what he uses for his Apple ID, all the notes on his phone’s notes app would’ve backed up there too. If he uses it for packages, his address and phone number would be all over it

Like in isolation, that’s a horrifying data breach to have to deal with as a celebrity

[biblically-accurate-soup]

guy came up with a brief dialogue exchange between two characters that don’t exist yet incident. five injured

[vampiremourning]

i think it’s time for another social break.

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART FOUR

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, kidnapping, angst, blood, 141 are still mean pirates ): kind of, very brief mentions of death masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

There were no ifs, ands, or buts about sleeping arrangements. Price, the Captain that he was, would have it his way, and his way was keeping you secured in the stuffiness of his own quarters.

It was uncomfortable, the way you shared the bed with him. He was a large man, much larger than you, and his bed only had so much space to fit the two of you. In the midst of the nights, you’d feel his leg brush against yours, or feel the soft rumble of his quiet snores from where he laid beside you.

It was far from ideal. As much as you hated it, it was an upgrade from your cell down in the brig. Price’s bed was softer, more plush, and it sank you in every time you slept on it. The situation was no better, but it wasn’t any worse, either.

The downside, though, was that you were just as much a prisoner as you were in the cell. Price made it known that you weren’t to leave his quarters under any circumstance.

They brought you meals in rotations. Sometimes Soap would show, cracking a horrible joke that left you rolling your eyes. Or sometimes it’d be Gaz, who hardly spared you a word of conversation, though you could see the faint glimpse of pity in his eye.

Then there was Ghost. A pure enigma, darkened by shadowy demons that were hidden beneath his mask. He never uttered a word to you, nor looked at you. He did his bidding by slapping down a bowl of poorly made stew and immediately making his exit before you could get a single word in.

Price wouldn’t bring you your meals, though you convinced yourself it was because he was avoiding you. You thought his original plan of having you sleep in his quarters would be for something diabolical and sinful, yet he made no effort to touch you nor get to know you. It was nice, knowing he wasn’t there to do things against your will, but it was also confusing, wondering what his real plan was for you.

It was as if sleeping with a wall, which you weren’t sure whether to be grateful or not. These men were far from people you wanted to be a part of, but the desire for a friend was beginning to outweigh your spite.

You were an outcast aboard this ship. Secluded from the world, and isolated from the only people you were surrounded by. It was a dreadfully lonely life to be living. Your only friend was the sea, and even that was something you were torn away from, locked away in the quarters with only a small window to offer a view of it.

The door of Price’s quarters barged open, disrupting you from your woe. None of them ever bothered to knock. They were savages, bred with no proper manners in the presence of a woman. But really, you weren’t a woman to them. You were labor. An inconvenience.

“Get up,” Ghost grumbled from his stand in the doorway, hand knuckling the rusty knob. “Goin’ shoppin’.”

“We’re on land?” you asked, standing from Price’s cot. Ghost grunted in response. “And I’m to… join you?”

“You need supplies, don’t you?” he gruffed, eyes narrowing in on you. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

The door abruptly slammed shut, leaving you alone in the quarters once again.

Land? They were allowing you to join them on their journey to land, to aid you in getting supplies necessary to work as a proper medic? It seemed surreal, yet bittersweet.

Gaining new supplies set your position on their crew in stone. They intended to keep you as theirs, and only trusted you enough to let you get off of the ship under their watch.

Yet, you’d be able to feel the grass between your toes once again. To feel the summer sun soaking in your skin, to hear the chatter of villagers fill your ears. You’d feel the liveliness of people apart from these heartless, savage pirates.

You’d be able to escape.

If you remained clever, you could leave the hands of Captain Price and create a new life far from their ship. This was your one and only opportunity to venture towards the life you always wanted for yourself.

You appeared as neutral as ever when you left the quarters to join the four men where they stood, clearly speaking amongst each other. You couldn’t show the rushing adrenaline coursing through you, not if you wanted to get away alive.

“Ach, there ye are, dove,” Soap huffed in annoyance, grabbing hold of your bicep to surge you towards him. You collided with his side, knocking the air out of your lungs. “Yer with me.”

“Stick with Soap,” Price ordered. His glare sent chills down your spine. “You are to get what you need under his watch. Try anythin’ funny and he won’t be so kind with you.”

“She’s fine, Cap, no need to worry. She won’t do anythin’ silly. Ain’t that right, dove?” Soap beamed, a touch of crazy leering down at you.

The plan in your head was beginning to feel too soon and too dangerous. You could only swallow nervously, giving a firm nod in return before they helped guide you off of the ship.

The town was lively around you. It was nothing like your home. Where you had grown with the quiet chirps of nature and gentle conversation, you were now greeted with an angry bustle of rushing townsfolk, brushing past you as if you were a ghost.

You felt out of touch with your surroundings. Others were dressed in fresh fabrics, altered to their frame. The women were pretty, hair unmatted and braided to frame their lovely faces while the men were covered from head to toe with the finest of coats.

Not all were as fortunate. There were a select few you caught glimpses of as you passed who were as dirty as you were, shoeless and hopeless. Begging for scraps of food or cheap coins, only to be spat on like the scum of the Earth.

You were no different. Next to Soap, you looked like a helpless, little mouse with dirty bags of fabric that fell loosely on your body, with your feet blackened from the lack of cover. It was utterly humiliating.

Soap kept a solid grip on your arm as he led you through the heaps of shoppers. He kept his eyes forward, scoping out any possible threat. You could see the hardwired focus geared in his brain, as if working on pure muscle memory.

“Pretty neat of a place, aye?” Soap asked, attempting small talk. He glanced over at you, wearing that boyish grin of his.

“It’s wonderful,” you replied, taking in the sights.

You meant it. Shops lined every corner of the dirt paths, windows displaying pretty dresses or tailored suits. Where you expected the town to look depressing, you found color, filling you with a warm dose of serenity.

This was a town you could grow to love. It was busy and loud, but the opportunity seeped out through every corner, calling your name. Your freedom rang out like a bell, offering you a place for your dreams to come true.

You had to escape if you truly wanted it. Your plan would have to unfold, even if it meant being patient.

“Yer bound to see a whole lot more towns better than this one, dove,” Soap boasted, grinning with pride. “Ye will grow to accept us one day.”

You stared up at Soap while the two of you walked. It was a shame, really, that he was the only one decently kind to you. Kind was far too generous of a word to describe any of these men, but it was the closest thing to what Soap was being towards you.

He was still a pirate, though.

“I am not so sure of that,” you confessed, unsure of why you did.

“Ach, ye will. The rest are secretly a bunch of softies,” he claimed, waving a dismissive hand. “We’re still human even if we’re pirates.”

“You’ve kidnapped me,” you stated.

“Mm. Yes.”

“You burned down my home,” you continued.

“Perhaps.”

“You killed my people,” you finished.

“You know nothin’ of what we do, dove. How about we keep shoppin’ for ye and stop worryin’ about the past?” Soap asked, not unkindly. He was surprisingly composed despite your accusations.

You stared at him for a moment longer before looking away. There was no point in arguing when the plan was to escape the moment you had the chance. Today would be the last day you’d ever have to converse with Soap and his men, if you played your cards right.

“You’re right,” you said quietly. “I apologize.”

“There ye go, dove.” Soap returned to smiling, giving a mocking pinch to your grimy cheek. “Now, what all do ye need?”

Soap made escape increasingly difficult. His hand remained secure around your arm for every shop you went in, keeping you by his side. It was as if he had a secret sense that let him know of your plans. Or perhaps he was following Price’s orders.

He stuck with you with every purchase. You gathered herbs, freshly made medicines, and a new book and quill to jot down notes in a journal. Soap allowed you the pleasure of collecting expensive items, unwavered by the prices.

He paid for them in gold, little round coins he’d slap on to the counter and leave behind without waiting for the shop tenant to gawk at such a rare sight of payment.

It wasn’t until you passed a clothing shop did he falter. His steps had stopped, eyes peering into the window. You stopped with him, dissecting his reaction.

“Sorry, dove. Makin’ a stop for myself,” he stated, tugging you into the shop. To your surprise, he let go of your arm, leaving you standing near the entrance. “Stay put. I’m trustin’ ye, so don’t make me regret it, aye?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you gave him a nod. He threw you a beaming smile before stalking off into the store, disappearing just out of sight. You remained firm in place, hands clasping in front of you.

The pit in your stomach twisted from the nerves that wracked you. This was your moment, your only chance of escape. If you didn’t take it now, you may never be lucky enough for another one.

As if fate was sealing itself, your eyes caught sight of a group of guards walking past the store, wooden rifles at the ready on their shoulders. They were speaking amongst themselves, oblivious to your inner turmoil from where you stood in the entrance of the shop.

A quick glance behind you showed that Soap was still occupied, unbeknownst to your plan. You could only see the top of his head, the messy mohawk sticking out like a sore thumb.

With the opportunity in front of you, you took it.

You moved slowly at first. Unsure, cautious. But once you made it out of the shop with Soap realizing, you amped your speed. Your dirty bare feet clambered clumsily along the dusty streets, digging into the little pebbles that littered them.

The dull sting of pain as you sprinted to the guards was disregarded. It was nothing compared to the ache of freedom you desired.

“Hello!” you shouted, garnering their attention. They turned, eyeing you with a judgmental glint at the state of you. “Please, I need help!”

“What can we do for you?” one of the guards asked, suspicious. His eyes were set on your feet, which were caked with months of filth. “A lass like you shouldn’t be out without a chaperone.”

“You don’t understand,” you gasped, catching your breath from the anxiety that rattled you like a drum. “I’ve been kidnapped by— by pirates and I’ve only just escaped. Please, I need your help, or they will take me back.”

“Pirates?” The guards perked up, glancing between one another as if sharing a secret you were unaware of. “How many pirates, lass?”

“Four,” you explained. “The Captain— his name is John Price. He is the one that took me from my village and I have been imprisoned on his ship for so long, I do not recall the days. Will you help me?”

You were frantic. Desperate. It showed in the way your voice shook, the way your frame shivered with nerves.

“It is not,” Guard Two said to his companion.

“It is,” Guard One said, the one who had spoken to you first. This time, they spoke to one another rather than to you, as if you were invisible. “There is only one Captain Price. It is 141.”

Guard Two looked over at you, face set firm. His eyes were piercing and cold, and it made you shrink down into yourself. They were not welcoming or kind like you expected a guard’s to be.

Guard One fumbled in the pocket of his britches before pulling out an aged paper. On it were the faces of the pirates with the exception of Ghost, covered by his signature mask. All of them were plastered on the page with a bounty over their heads, as well as a promise of exile for their arrest.

Execution. The pirates would be executed publicly if they were caught. The punishment was inked in bold letters beneath their pictures, and each letter was taunting you with the blood that would be spilled on your hands for turning them in.

An unsettling guilt began to gnaw at you. You were unsure of why. Captain Price and his crew had stolen you from your home and made you their medic. They had you sleeping in a cell for nights uncounted, eating slop out of a bowl like a dog.

Yet, to kill them was much too burdening on you. They were mean, heartless, and unworthy. Yet, death was unkind. You were not so shallow.

“Is this what they look like?” Guard One asked, holding the paper in front of you. It was undoubtedly them, down to every detail.

“Yes,” you confirmed, though not as confidently as before. There was now a weight in your tone, as if holding back. “Yes, that’s them. You— you will kill them once you find them?”

Guard Two laughed, though it was bone chilling. There wasn’t a hint of warmth in it, only distaste and rage. “Of course. They’re to be hanged for their crimes. They are savages.”

He took a step closer to you, leaning down to your level. His aura was threatening, and you could feel yourself cowering away. “You must tell us where they are at once. We will help you once we have captured them.”

You took a step back, deflating. Everything within you told you that you made a mistake. If you went through with exposing their whereabouts and having them captured, their deaths would be because of you. You would be a murderer.

“I—“ You swallowed, clenching your clammy hands into nervous fists. “I do not know where they’ve gone. I ran away as soon as I could.”

“Not a problem,” Guard One gruffed, taking hold of your arm, just as Soap had done before. Now, more than ever, a part of you wished it was Soap rather than the guard. “You will guide us to their ship.”

“Please let go of me,” you murmured brokenly, covering the guard’s hand with your own to pry his fingers off. They didn’t budge. “Please.”

Your pleas were shadowed by their greed. You recognized the look in their eyes, and it scared you to the bone.

Bloodthirst. They were hungry to capture the pirates, hungry to be the ones to guide them to their impending death. It was not about helping you. It was about the handsome reward they would receive for turning in the most wanted criminals of the sea.

You began to panic. The air in your lungs felt weak, and you could feel the world around you closing in.

This was not the outcome you wanted. You simply wanted your freedom, yet it would come with a cost that you weren’t sure you could afford.

You did the only thing you could think of doing. Your fist collided with the guard’s face with a nasty crunch, causing blood to spew from his nose like a spout. It speckled on your dirty cheeks, tainting them further.

The guard let out a shout, releasing your arm. When his companion attempted to make a grab for you, you bolted, legs carrying you back to the shop Soap had been left in.

Chaos ensued from behind you. You could hear the clamber of guards, racing after you, yelling profanities in the air. The townsfolk stopped to observe, women placing their hands over their mouths in bewilderment, men torn between watching or intervening.

It was a commotion you never planned on starting, and now, all eyes were on you.

Soap came into sight from in front of the store. He looked focused and angry, eyebrows pulled together, jaw set taut. When he locked in on you as well as the guards behind you, there was no relief. His eyes were as intense as the guards had been, if not more.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” you sobbed pathetically, but he gave you no chance to pause your running.

Soap grabbed your hand in his, lugging you along the dirt paths. He swerved the streets, pulling your arm harder every time you fell behind. You struggled to keep up, spots of blood dotting the ground beneath you from the newly open wounds from pebbles that sliced open the soles of your feet.

You were pulled into a narrow alleyway with Soap, out of sight from the guards. Soap’s large hand shoved your head, urging you to crouch down behind a row of barrels that crowded the alley.

Your heart was nearly lurching out of your chest from your hiding space. Pounding footsteps raced past the alley, a cloud of dust filling the air and burning your nose. Voices could be heard shouting nearby, but not close enough for you to make out what they were saying.

Soap and you stayed put, his hand muffling your mouth, body smothering yours. He held his breath, ears listening in for the guards.

After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps grew farther away, voices fading into the wind.

“I trusted ye to stay put, dove,” Soap whispered, voice full of anger and betrayal. “I’ve been nice to ye. Why couldn’t ye just stay like I told ye?”

You whimpered into his hand, low and depressing. You felt defeated. Your fate was undetermined more than ever before, and you feared what the pirates would truly do to you now that you went against their word.

“C’mon,” he huffed, letting go of you and standing from behind the barrels. He grabbed hold of your arm, hauling you up and keeping you in his grip.

Soap crept the two of you through the town, slipping through every crack in the buildings to remain unseen. If people saw you, they remained silent, fearful of the pirate amidst their town.

The closer the two of you got to the ship, the more your heart sunk to your stomach. You were wracked with terror, horrified of the punishment you’d endure. The only thing you could do is let Soap string you along like a puppy on a leash.

“We need to go,” Soap barked at Price. The other men had long returned from their shopping, only awaiting your arrival with Soap. “Now.”

Gaz fluttered away without question, preparing to undock the ship and leave no trail in the town behind. Price and Ghost, on the other hand, were far more concerned.

“What the hell happened?” Ghost asked, voice gruff and dark, eyes narrowed on you.

“Dove tried rattin’ us out,” Soap hissed, throwing a glare your way. You shrunk in his hold, avoiding his eyes and bowing your head low. “Guards are lookin’ high and low. They know we’re here.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ghost grunted, leaving the three of you to aid Gaz in prepping the ship for sail. He walked with a looming shadow over him, black and scary, oozing out the mist of pure acrimony.

Price stood tall and terrifying, arms crossed over his chest, the lines of his face firm and tight. He stared at you with a guise of disappointment and resentment, and if looks could kill, you would surely be one of their many victims.

The Captain took a step towards you, leaning down to your height. His hand grabbed hold of your face, fingers digging into your flesh as he forced you to look at him. His eyes were glaring, stabbing you with millions of daggers.

He shifted your head from side to side, inspecting the specks of blood that dotted your face. He was silent, making everything much more unnerving, and when he let go of you, he spared you not another glance.

“Take her to the cell,” Price ordered Soap. “We’ll deal with it later.”

Soap nodded grimly, tugging your arm aggressively so he could guide you to the brig doors. The sight of them made you sick, and you fought in his hold, which did nothing but make you look like a fool.

“Stop squirmin’,” he hissed, irritated. Seeing him without his signature smile made your chest fill with sickening guilt, and it twisted your insides in a painful knot.

The cell welcomed you when you stepped down familiar stairs. It was a slap in the face, seeing it once again, and you wanted nothing more than to take back everything you’d done and apologize to Price until he let you back into the comfort of his quarters.

But there was no going back. The deed was done. This was your price for freedom, and before it was handed to you, it had been snatched right out of your hands.

Soap shoved you into the cell with enough force to ensure you went inside, but gentle enough to make sure you didn’t topple over. Even now, when you’d betrayed his trust, he didn’t aim to hurt you. The pill was suffocating to swallow.

The cell shutting behind you rattled through your ears like a deafening shriek. The lock clicked, and Soap made no effort to move, not yet. Instead, he stood there, eyes boring into you through the bars of your cage.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. So, you stood shamefully, staring at the floor beneath your aching feet.

Something clattered on the floor, and when you shifted your gaze to find it, what stared back at you was a pair of shoes. New, unworn, and pretty. For you.

Looking up at Soap, his expression was unreadable. He no longer looked at you. He seemed just ashamed as you did. It was as if all the anger he had before had diminished, and he now looked like a hurt boy, betrayed and ridiculed.

“I hope they fit,” he said quietly. While you stared at him, he was now the one avoiding looking at you. “Didn’t know what ye liked.”

Soap turned on his heel, trudging up the stairs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He made no effort to look back at you, to study your stunned expression. Instead, what greeted you was his back as it filtered through the brig doors, shutting behind him with a loud slam.

You looked back at the shoes, careful when you picked them up. They were bland in taste, yet the prettiest thing you’d been gifted in your life.

Soap trusted you to stay while he went to surprise you with a new pair of shoes, and you had only gone behind his back out of fear of his pirate crew that had taken you from your home.

You felt no better than a pirate.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Line Without A Hook

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: Peeta freaks out when you get hurt in the arena and gets teased for how much he takes care of you (catching fire arena)

Masterlist

Peeta had barely gotten out the words “stay by me” when the cornucopia on the island starting to spin. Tributes flew off and fell into the water as others struggled to grip on to whatever they could.

“It moves?” Finnick shouted to no one in particular as he gripped the first arm he could see through the salt water spray. The arm belonged to Peeta, who looked to his side and panicked when he realized you were no longer there.

“Where did Y/n go?” Peeta shouted over the sound of the waves.

“I think she went over by the weapons.” Finnick shouted back as the dial began to rotate faster. Peeta looked into the center and saw Johanna and Mags struggling to stay aboard but no sign of you.

“Well she’s not there anymore.” Peeta shouted back as his anxiety grew.

“I’m kinda busy here, Peeta. I don’t know where your girlfriend went.” Finnick replied.

“There!” Wiress called and pointed towards one of the arms. Peeta followed her finger and saw you fighting with one of the careers on the edge of a spinning arm. You were winning the fight until another career threw an axe your way and got you right in the rib cage. Peeta just about lost his mind when he saw you go limp and fall into the water. He let go of the center and grabbed the first weapon he could see before sprinting toward where you had been.

“DON’T TOUCH HER.” He shouted as he threw his weapon at the career you had been fighting. It buried in his chest and sent him flying into the water. Peeta then dove into the water and forced his eyes open in an effort to find you. He followed the wavering trail of blood until he found your body floating in the water. By the time he pulled you to the surface, the dial had stopped spinning. Finnick helped him pull you out of the water and tried to give you CPR but Peeta pushed him out of the way. He did chest compressions and mouth to mouth as tears fell from his eyes and onto your face. Finally, your eyes opened and you coughed up some water. Peeta gently rolled you on your side so that you could get it all out and held your hand when you were done.

“Y/n? Are you okay, sweetheart?” Peeta asked as he held your hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

“Peeta?” You coughed out.

“I’m here. Are you okay?” He asked again and brushed your wet hair off your face.

“I’m okay. It’s just a knick.” You said and winced from the pain of the wound in your side.

“I watched it happen. It was a lot more than a knick. And you’re still bleeding.”

“It’s fine. I just do that sometimes.” You tried to wave it off but Peeta was not budging.

“Come here. We gotta get you off this thing.” Peeta looked at the cornucopia angrily before carefully lifting you off the ground. He and Finnick brought you back to the beach and helped you lay down on the sand.

“Really. I’m okay.” You tried to assure Peeta once you were on the ground again.

“Let me see how bad it is.” He said and tried to rip your suit around the wound.

“Peeta, I’m fine.” You insisted and pushed his hand away.

“You’re not fine. Just let me see.” He pleaded. You knew he wasn’t gonna let it go so you sighed and unzipped the back of your suit. You’re gingerly rolled it down to your waist, leaving you in the black bikini top you had underneath. It was the least amount of clothing Peeta had ever seen you in so he blushed and adverted his eyes at first.

“How bad is it?” You asked him, making him snap back to the moment. He looked at the wound on your side and relaxed a little when he found it wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought.

“It looks worse than it really is. We just need to get it clean.”

“We?” You raised an eyebrow.

“You took care of me once. And I’m not gonna let you die from infection after everything you’ve survived.”

“But-“

“Just shut up and let me take care of you?” Peeta whined.

“Okay.” You smiled softly. “Fine.”

Peeta returned the smile before carefully picking you up. He walked into the water with you in his arms and went deep enough that the salt water could clean your wound. You winced and arched your back to stay out of the water.

“Sorry. I know it hurts.” Peeta apologized and bent his knees to put you back in the water.

“It really hurts. I want to get out.” You told him and flinched when a wave stung your side.

“Not yet. You have to keep it clean.” Peeta said sympathetically. You gripped his shoulder and hissed in pain as he dunked you in again.

“Look at them.” Finnick snorted and nodded towards you and Peeta.

“You think it’s real?” Johanna asked as she sharpened her axe with another knife.

“What?”

“The whole lovelorn star crossed lovers plot. Think it’s all an act?” Johanna asked as she watched the two of you in the water with the sun beginning to set behind you.

“I used to.” Finnick replied.

“Used to?”

“Yeah. I thought it was an act at first. I think we all did. But that boy loves her.” Finnick said most assuredly.

“Okay. That’s enough.” Peeta decided and carried you back to the shore.

“I can walk.” You chuckled when he continued to carry you up the beach.

“I know.” He said simply and continued carrying you. He gently laid you down by the rest of your group and knelt beside you.

“I need something to cover this.” He realized and looked around but all he saw was sand.

“Can you please get me some leaves from the jungle?” Peeta asked Johanna.

“Get them yourself.” She scoffed.

“I can’t leave her. Please, just help me this once.” Peeta asked again.

“Peeta, it’s okay. Really. You can go.” You assured him by taking his hand and squeezing it. He blushed when you did this and nodded his head.

“I’ll be right back.” He promised before running off into the jungle. He returned shortly after with a couple leaves and water in a coconut shell.

“I got some leaves and water. Can you sit up?”

“Yeah. Thank you.” You smiled in appreciation as you painfully sat up. Peeta held the coconut shell to your lips and helped you sip some water before using the leaves to create a bandage for your wound. The sun had set below the horizon at that point and you were definitely ready to go to sleep.

“You can sleep. I’ll keep first watch.” Peeta said as he read your mind. You usually protested and let others sleep first, but you were too tired to do that today.

“Thank you. Wake me up in a few hours so you can sleep too.” You told him as you laid down on the sand. Peeta sat beside you until the morning came and when you woke up, you realized he was in the same exact position as he was when you had fallen asleep.

“Hey.” You said through a yawn that hurt to complete. You winced and touched your side as you tried to sit up. Peeta put a hand on your back to help you sit up and immediately handed you a coconut shell full of water. You smiled graciously at him and drank the whole thing.

“When did you sleep last night?” You asked when you were done.

“I don’t know. Sometimes after-“

“He didn’t.” Finnick cut him off. You looked at Peeta for an explanation and he was red with embarrassment.

“What? You didn’t sleep?” You asked and smacked his arm.

“I tried to take over after I got a few hours but lover boy didn’t let me. He said he needed to make sure you didn’t bleed out.” Finnick continued as he headed towards the water to fish for some breakfast.

“P, you need to sleep. I was fine.” You said and shook his arm.

“I was too. I wasn’t tired.” Peeta replied and you knew he was lying. You gave him a look but he just looked to the side.

“I’m really okay. The salt water helped.” You tried to assure him.

“Oh, yeah. Salt water. We have to keep it clean.” Peeta remembered and stood up. Before you could protest, he scooped you up and carried you to the water. You didn’t complain this time even though it hurt to be in the water. You knew he just needed to take care of you or else he’d lose his mind with worrying. Once he was satisfied, he carried you back to the beach and gently laid you down.

“Are you hungry?” He asked once you were back on the sand.

“I’m all right.” You answered.

“Are you hungry?” Johanna mocked Peeta’s voice in a high pitched manner. You looked at her angrily as Peeta turned red.

“Instead of mocking me, why don’t you do something to help?” He said to her.

“Help how? No one else can get near her because of you. You should’ve seen the way he was watching you last night. I don’t think I ever saw him blink.” Johanna snorted. You looked over at Peeta and he was looking down at his hands with embarrassment. You put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it endearingly.

“It’s nice that Peeta cares so much. He’s right about infection. A lot of people have died from it in these games before they even realize what’s going on.” You defended him, making him smile at you.

“Oh, give me a break.” Johanna groaned. “Why don’t you two make out some more and get us some sponsors?”

“Yeah. Put on a show so we can eat.” Finnick laughed. Peeta shifted uncomfortably and you felt bad for him. You knew your fake relationship was a sensitive subject for him and now he had to listen to his allies mock it.

“Stop it.” You stated. “We’re not doing that.”

“Please? Just say your vows again in front of the camera. I’m starving.” Johanna whined.

“Then go hunt.” You snapped.

“Come on. What’s the point of being allies with the star crossed lovers if you’re not gonna kiss and get us some parachutes?” Finnick asked with a teasing smile.

“I know. I thought we’d at least get something when Peeta nearly lost his mind after not being able to find you for-what was it- two minutes? I thought his head was gonna explode.” Johanna added on.

“So did I.” Finnick agreed. “If you think about it, we don’t even have to kill the other tributes. Let’s just hide Y/n for a few hours and let Peeta kill everyone while he tries to find her.”

“Leave him alone. No more jokes.” You ordered all while Peeta stayed silently looking out at the waves. Everyone was quiet for a minute and you assumed the jokes were finally done. Peeta looked at you and smiled sadly so you took his hand and squeezed it.

“If they show us how they made that baby, I bet the Capital would send us a feast.” Johanna said to cut the silence. Finnick burst out laughing, making Peeta get up and walk away. You watched him walk into the jungle before looking at Johanna and Mason angrily.

“Look what you did. Why’d you have to tease him?” You asked and smacked Finnicks arm.

“Sorry. Go check on him. Tell loverboy I didn’t mean to make him cry.” Finnick pouted teasingly. You rolled your eyes at him and got up off the floor.

“You guys don’t know him. He’s a lot stronger than you give him credit for. Don’t forget that he won his games.” You said in Peeta’s defense. That left Johanna and Finnick silent as you walked off into the jungle in the direction Peeta had gone in. You found him using the spile to get some more water from you. You weren’t even thirsty from how often he’d been getting you water but you weren’t about to tell him that.

“Hey.” You said as you approached him.

“Hey. I was getting you some water.” Peeta said without looking at you. You could tell he was upset by what the others had been and you hated that you couldn’t even talk about it without the cameras picking it up.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly at him as you took the water.

“If you’re hungry, I can go pick some stuff. I know Finnicks been catching a lot of fish so if you need something sweeter, I can try and go find a berry bush.” He offered and still didn’t look in your eyes. You took him face and turned his head so that he had to look at you. He finally looked into your eyes and smiled sadly.

“Thank you.” You said sincerely. “But really, I’m really okay. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I know you can take care of yourself.”

“I can. But I appreciate you taking care of me. I just don’t want you to worry about me so much. We all need to be on high alert. I can’t be taking up your thoughts all the time.”

“But you do.” He said with a sad smile. You smiled back before pulling him into a hug. He hugged you back and was careful not to put his hands anywhere near your wound.

“I’m sorry they were teasing you.” You said into his ear.

“It’s okay. I deserve it for being so sensitive.”

“I like that you’re sensitive. It’s one of my favorite qualities of yours.” You told him as you pulled out of the bush but kept your arms around him.

“One of?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I like your banana bread too.” You replied, making him roll his eyes.

“Oh great. She likes my banana bread.” He chuckled. “That’s not one of my qualities.”

“I know. But I think about it all the time. I smell it sometimes in my dreams.”

“I’ll make you some when we go home. Your own loaf.” He promised you.

“I can’t wait.” You said through a sad laugh. You knew there was no possibility of that happening, but it made you happy to imagine anyway.

“Do you think we’ll go home?” Peeta asked after a beat of silence.

“I don’t know. We did last time.”

“Yeah but what are the chances of that happening again?” He said quietly.

“I try not to think about it.” You admitted.

“Me too. That’s why I spend so much time thinking about you.” Peeta replied. You looked into his puppy dog eyes for a while and stayed in comfortable silence. Peeta stared at you and touched your hair to keep himself grounded.

“I killed that guy.” Peeta said suddenly in a quiet voice.

“The one who attacked me?”

“Yeah. Him. I threw an axe at him. I could’ve just punched him but I didn’t. I went for the kill.”

“Why?” You wondered. You weren’t mad, it just wasn’t like Peeta to kill someone.

“Because he attacked you.” Peeta said simply.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you kill.”

“I didn’t either.” He admitted. “Do you think differently of me?”

“No. As long as you don’t try to kill me now that you’ve tasted your first blood.” You joked.

“I would never hurt you.” Peeta said sincerely.

“Oh, I know. I was just kidding.” You assured him.

“I know. I just…I don’t think you understand what you mean to me. I saw that guy put his hands on you and I just lost it. I saw red. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I thought he was gonna take you from me.” Peeta’s voice cracked on the last part so you pulled him back into a hug. You swayed back and forth and rubbed his back to calm him down.

“Hey, hey, hey. I’m okay. You saved me.” You said in his ear.

“I can’t lose you.” He sniffled and hugged you tighter.

“You won’t.”

“I can’t.” He repeated. “So when I’m a pain about keeping your wound clean or drinking some water, please just listen to me. I need to know that you’re okay.”

“Okay. I can do that.” You assured him.

“You better. Because I swear to God, if you die-“

You cut Peeta off by pulling out of the hug to kiss him instead. Peeta stiffened for a moment at the unexpected contact but then melted into the kiss. The kiss didn’t last very long because Peeta got in his head about the motive behind the kiss.

“You don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to.” He pulled away to whisper to you.

“I know that.” You said simply and reconnected his lips in a kiss. Peeta cupped your face to keep you close as he kissed you back. His insecurities melted away into the kiss and he let himself believe you really did feel the same.

“Hey, lovebirds. Get a room or join us for breakfast.” Finnick called from the beach. You pulled out of the kiss and rested your forehead against his.

“I wish he’d leave us alone.” Peeta sighed.

“I got this.” You told Peeta and turned to Finnick.

“I thought you wanted to see how we made the baby?” You called back. You could hear Finnick laugh as he walked back to the water to catch more fish. All while Peeta was a blushing mess over what you were implying.

“You hungry?” You asked Peeta once you were alone again.

“Can we just stay here for a while?” He asked you. You smiled and nodded your head to show him you weren’t going anywhere.

“As long as you want.”

[hairmetal666]

It's a fluke that Eddie ends up a gymnast. Wayne only signs him up for summer classes at Hawkins's tumbling gym to burn off his excess six-year-old energy. Nobody, lest of all Eddie or Wayne, expects him to be talented at it.

And now, somehow, he's at his first ever elite gymnastics competition. His coaches all said he was good, but he hadn't really had a frame of reference for what that meant. Not until now. Not until he's in 3rd place after high bar, right behind Steve Harrington.

They tumbled together, as little kids. Steve a tiny boy with an absurd pompadour, monopolizing the mats for insane tumbling passes and lording his high-end competition shirts over the other kids (none of the rest even wore actual gymnastics gear; they were six and it was Hawkins).

Now, he's a swaggering fifteen year old with the same pompadour and bad attitude. They're not on the same rotation, but as Eddie moves on from his floor exercise, Steve makes a point to ram into him.

Eddie doesn't react and maybe that would've been the end of it, but he ends up placing, and Steve corners him in the locker room.

"Come to congratulate me?" Eddie smirks.

"You better watch your back, Munson." Steve shoves him into the lockers.

"I knew you were an asshole, Harrington, but I didn't realize you were a sore loser."

Steve leans close, heat melting into Eddie. "You better count yourself lucky you've gotten this far. Not really a sport for poor kids."

Eddie bristles at this. Yeah, sure, his gear is secondhand, and he and Wayne learned how to sew to mend his competition shirts, gymnastics pants, and warmups, but they work hard, together, for Eddie to do this. "Don't worry about how I afford to be here." Eddie checks him as he brushes past. "Just fix those wobbly flairs on pommel."

The rivalry is hot and fierce and mean, made even worse by the fact that Eddie has an enormous hate-boner for Harrington. It's not, Eddie reasons, his fault. He's gay and surrounded by guys whose bodies are honed for a sport based on strength, endurance, and agility, Steve the most beautiful of all. So he looks, and he longs, and he hates Harrington with every fiber of his being.

Eddie's sure this would continue for their competitive lives, but everything changes the summer before their junior years of high school. They're at a training camp, the kind for world champion, Olympic hopeful types. Steve is practicing ring dismounts when he loses himself in the air, lands hard off the mat, destroys something in his knee. He needs surgery, the recovery time 6-8 months, if he's lucky to be able to compete again.

Maybe a year ago, Eddie would be excited by this development, but now it's kind of devastating. He doesn't bother examining why.

--

Steve comes back and he's--different. His first competition, he comes up, asks, "Eddie, hey, can we talk?" And, well, they've never been on a first name basis before and Steve is so so pretty, so he agrees.

"I just want to say, I'm sorry how I treated you back before. I was a real piece of shit and you never deserved it."

Eddie truly doesn't know how to respond, never foresaw this day coming. "Thanks. Uh--yeah. Thanks."

They stare at each other for a few seconds longer before Steve taps him on the shoulder and walks away.

It's not the only thing that's changed about Steve. There's this big group of feral children that follow him around everywhere now. Apparently, Harrington told them Eddie plays dnd and now they follow him around too.

He also. Has a girlfriend now. She's pretty; delicate looking. Her name is Nancy. And she's nice, or whatever. Eddie definitely isn't jealous. It's just. He's been with Steve in locker rooms for years, and he thought--well, he'd seen the way Harrington's eyes sometimes lingered on a bicep, a well-cut thigh, the intrigue of a pelvic v, and he thought--not that it matters, but he thought--

Anyway, Steve has a girlfriend.

---

They're at the winter classic, when it happens.

Eddie is doing good. Like. Really good. Like his routines, they're not flawless, but he's hitting the big skills and sticking landings, and stays in 2nd throughout the majority of the rotations.

It's not a huge shock when he finishes his final rotation, vault, and winds up finishing in 2nd. What is a shock, though, is that, when the scores go up, Steve is wrapping his arms around Eddie's waist, hoisting him into the sky. And, even after he's back on solid ground, Harrington doesn't loosen his hold.

And it's, like. Nothing, right? It's nothing because he has a girlfriend and, sure, maybe he's bi, but that doesn't stop Nancy from existing.

He's not going to think about it, is the thing. He knows it doesn't mean anything, so he isn't going to dwell. It's definitely not all he thinks about during the podium ceremony, or after when he talks to media, or even later walking into the empty locker room.

Or. He thought it was empty. But Steve is there, smiling, saying "you were amazing out there."

They hug again, and Eddie tries not to enjoy the warmth of Harrington's body, the comforting strength of his toned biceps. Eddie pulls back and Steve is--he's so close, gazing at Eddie's lips and--

Steve's mouth is hot and sweet, like he's wearing cherry chapstick, and Eddie can't--he thinks of Nancy; she's nice, doesn't deserve this, they should stop--

But he's sucking on Steve's tongue and Steve is making the sweetest sounds, hard against Eddie's thigh, and nothing else matters.

---

It goes on for months.

Eddie knows he needs to end it, vows to as soon as they're apart.

It all goes out the window as soon as they're together again. He can't get enough. It's Steve. How is he supposed to resist?

(He needs to. It's horrifying, what they're doing to Nancy)

---

The children who follow Steve around invite him to dinner after the first day of the USA gymnastics championships.

Nancy is there.

It's the worst three hours of his life. He can't look at Steve, can barely speak to him.

Nancy is beautiful and smart and kind and strong. She doesn't deserve any of this.

And when Steve drops by his hotel room hours later, Eddie greets him by saying, "I can't do this anymore."

Steve's shoulders drop, eyes squeezing shut. "Right. Yeah, I--Yeah."

"I like you, Steve. A lot. But I can't--you have a girlfriend. And I can't keep being whatever this is for you."

Steve nods, won't meet his eyes. "You're right. It's not fair to either of you. I--My parents expect--And I--I'm sorry," he whispers the last part.

Eddie smiles, heart aching. "Sweetheart. I get it. But. Figure out your shit, yeah? Maybe then we can talk?"

The smile Steve flashes him is a broken thing. "Maybe. Sure."

And that's it.

Eddie cries himself to sleep that night.

The next day, he wins first in the all-around.

---

He and Steve stop speaking.

Somewhere around, ohh, the very first time they hooked up, he caught feelings. So sue him if it kills him, seeing Steve at every competition.

They don't speak again until the Olympic trials. And isn't that ridiculous? Eddie at the Olympic trials. It's such an insane pipe dream, being an Olympian, that he doesn't actually have any expectations whatsoever.

So knock him over with a feather when he fucking makes it on the team.

And so does Steve.

The announcement rings out, and Steve is there, out of nowhere, pulling Eddie into his arms. And Eddie's so hyped, so excited, that he just shouts and hugs Steve right back.

He pretends the proximity, the musk of Steve's cologne, the tangy saltiness of his sweat, doesn't bother him, doesn't transport him immediately back to Steve's bed.

They're teammates now; he can keep it casual.

Right before they leave for the games, news breaks that Steve and Nancy have broken up.

---

The Team competition at the fucking Olympics is going well. They've had good routines, with no huge errors, stay consistently within the top 5 scores. But then they're on the last rotation, parallel bars, and he's the very last competitor to go. They'll win bronze if he can score above 14.933.

But

He's inconsistent on parallel bars, always has been, something deep and psychological he can't quite let go of, and now their medal chances are all on him.

He salutes the judges, jumps into his starting position--and his mind goes quiet. Muscle memory, skill, years of training take over--he's flawless.

Eddie sticks his dismount, and the place erupts. He doesn't have a score yet, doesn't know if he's done it, but the rest of the team screams like he has.

They pull him into their arms, but Steve is closest, his grip the tightest. Their eyes keep catching, holding, and Eddie can't really breathe but he doesn't think it's the anxiety or the excitement.

The score goes up.

Not only is it high enough for bronze, it puts them in silver.

Eddie has barely a second to process before he's being hoisted into the air, Steve's arms bracing him up. The crowd's going crazy, his teammates screaming and hugging him, each other, but all he sees is Steve beaming up at him.

He's slowly lowered to the ground, Steve's arms still around him. "You were perfect, baby," Steve whispers. "Never seen anyone like you."

He wishes he could stay right there, Steve beaming at him, but they won the silver--they won the silver at the goddamn Olympics--and they have to get medals, do interviews.

They don't have a chance to be alone together until they're back at the Village, where Steve is just waiting in Eddie's room when he gets back.

"Is this okay?" Steve asks. "I wanted to talk to you and Jason let me in, but I can--I'll leave."

"Please don't." Eddie swallows. "Stay."

Steve smiles, a little. "I needed to tell you that I'm sorry for what I did to you and Nancy. It was unfair to both of you. I love her, you know? But she's not who--I'm not in love with her."

"No?"

"No. I thought it would make my parents happy, settling down with a nice girl. But it turned out it didn't actually make a difference to them, who I dated. And she isn't who I wanted to be with."

"I'm proud of you for figuring out what you really wanted. It's brave."

"I wish I could've been brave earlier." He gives a little laugh. "Before I hurt you."

Eddie doesn't know what to say to that. He wishes the same thing.

"Um, which is also why I'm here." Steve plucks at the waistband of his Team USA Nike joggers. "I wanted to see if maybe we could try again? Officially this time?"

Eddie can't keep his smile from taking over his entire face. "Sweetheart, I would love to."

"Yeah?"

And Eddie just--after all this time, he just--pulls Steve into his arms and kisses him. The silver medals, still around both of their necks, clink together with the force, but neither of them really care.

Steve sighs, nuzzles his nose to Eddie's. "Missed you so bad," he whispers. "I'm so sorry."

"Me too," Eddie smiles. "But kiss me a while."

Eventually, they fall back onto Eddie's bed, which makes a horrible noise as their combined weight topples onto it, and they break apart to laugh. Steve smooths back his hair, wrapping a few fingers through his curls to keep Eddie close, even though he's not about to go anywhere.

"Can't believe we made it all the way here." Steve's looking at him like he hung the moon

"Cause we're taking medals home?"

"Honey," he laughs. "Because I'm taking you home."

[tlou-reid]

All of the Books Beside Your Bed ✿ Spencer Reid

♡ SUMMARY: Spencer can’t help but save the day after your weekend plans are ruined

♡ WARNINGS: gross disgusting fluff, mention of a book that talks about nazi propaganda but it’s the same book that was mentioned in the show, a steamy kiss, reader really goes through it mentally in the beginning

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

Everyone could tell you were in a bit of a sour mood. Working with profilers upwards of 9 hours a day (and that was an easy day), made it hard for subtleties to go unnoticed.

The team caught on to the lack of jokes passed around the bullpen, the way you huffed when you sat down after getting each cup of coffee, and they definitely noticed the scowl that had been etched across your face all day.

“What’s got sunshine all cranky today?” Derek asked, posing the question to Penelope and JJ in the break room. “We’re not sure, she’s been awfully quiet today,” JJ informs, looking long-fully at your desk, where you angrily shaking your keyboard, tired of the delay when you were typing.

All three of them watch as Spencer slides his chair around, “Hey, hey, hey,” he calls, moving to grab your arm. “It’s not working!” You huff, moving back so Spencer can work his magic. Derek, Penelope, and JJ can’t hear the rest, but they see you relax as Spencer shows you how much better your keyboard is working.

The three disperse, settling back in to finish the paperwork assigned for the day. If all goes well, they’ll get their weekend off. So, everyone was locked in.

Everyone except you. And, oddly enough, Spencer.

The rest of the team had noticed the surface level differences, but Spencer saw you on a different level. He noticed that you started picking at your fingers after you went outside to eat lunch. He noticed when you turned down the brightness of your desktop computer. He noticed the lack of your usual, rotating choice of a novel resting on your desk.

Spencer wasn’t saying he was a better profiler than the rest of the team; he just tended to notice the little things. Especially about you. You were one of his friends, after all.

You weren’t sure why your day was crawling by. You were aware of why you were in such a poor mood, but the only thing that could make it better would be to get off of work and head home. It was silly to be so angry over something so trivial, but you really did plan your weekend around going to the library tomorrow morning.

Your weekend plans surrounded the book you were going to spend hours selecting. Going to the library was something you looked forward to every week, and you knew Hotch has plans with Beth this weekend, so chances were there would be no case and you could truly enjoy your time. You wanted to make a nice dinner for yourself tonight, curl up and watch a movie, and then head to bed.

Tomorrow, you were looking forward to getting up and doing your makeup, browsing around the library until your heart was content, grab lunch with Penelope, and then going home to read in the bathtub. You couldn’t have been more excited.

But your plans were quickly ruined. The library you frequented had sent an email to all its patrons, informing them they the library would be closed until further notice, due to a water pipe that was underground breaking. It had completely ruined your mood for the whole day. And it was continually getting worse with each little inconvenience. You left your notebook at home, when you passed Morgan a file you had given yourself a paper cut, your lunch was soggy, and now your computer was acting up. There was no winning for you today.

“Thank you,” you tried your best to be kind to Spencer, he always tried to help you. “Just try not to smash the keys again,” he teased as he slid his chair back to his desk. “I make no promises.” You mumbled.

Spencer spent a good majority of the day trying to figure out the best way to ask why you were in such a bad mood without making it any worse. He continued to notice how your mood steadily declined, even as the people in the bullpen started to head home. “Is something wrong?” He settled on, after you threw your head back in agitation. You couldn’t help the way tears started to form in your eyes, all the emotions from the awful day spilling over, as you laid your head down on the desk.

No matter how much Emily loved you, she took this as a sign to head home, leaving just you and Spencer. As the glass door to the BAU closed, Spencer made his way to your desk, crouching right down. He rested his arm close to you, wondering if he should rub circles on your back like JJ does for him when he’s upset.

“Hey,” he cooed in that soft voice he only used with people who were vulnerable, “what’s going on?” Being entirely overwhelmed with everything that had happened today, and being engulfed by Spencer’s being had your mind going fuzzy, not allowing you to properly articulate the struggles you’d been facing. “The whole thing just crashed,” you mumbled your most recent misfortune into your arm, doing your best to hold back sobs that were threatening to come through.

“Have you reopened it?” Spencer questioned, springing into action to come up with a solution. You shook your head as more tears fell. “Can I sit there?” He asked, needing your limp body out of his way so he could help you. You nodded again, trying your best to wipe your eyes before lifting yourself up and moving to lean against your desk. “Are you crying?” Spencer couldn’t help himself from asking, very ungracefully.

You simply nodded, turning your head away. Spencer’s cheeks turned red, realizing how inconsiderate he sounded despite just wanting to help make things better for you. He turned his attention back to your computer, easily recovering the file you’d been working on. “There you go. You might’ve lost some work, but it recovered to six minutes ago. I can help you catch up, if you want.” He offers, wanting to recover from his uncouth comment earlier.

You sniffled, “I think I just want to go home.” Spencer nodded, moving out of your chair to allow you to pack your things. “Hold on,” he mumbles to himself, moving back into your desk space. He saved your file, opened your email, and sent it to himself. “What are you doing?” You questioned, rubbing your eyes. “I can finish it for you tonight. We worked on the geographical profile together, so I got it.” Spencer smiled, albeit awkwardly. “Thank you, Spence.” You said with a breath of relief. “It’s no problem at all. I can tell you’ve had a hard day, I just want to make it easier for you.”

Spencer’s simple heartfelt concern for you sent your waterworks over the edge. You couldn’t help yourself as the tears fell, staining your tired cheeks with dark streams of mascara. You couldn’t imagine how goofy you looked, but every emotion was hitting you all at once. You didn’t know how to control it. It was all just too much.

Spencer cooed your name, not hesitating to put a gentle hand over your crossed arms. “Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was unusually soft, trying his best to create a safe space for you.

You nodded your head, wanting to share but struggling to express all of your hardships. It was as if your throat was closing in on itself, making it hard to breathe and impossible to talk. Spencer could see this written across your face, hesitating for one second before pulling you into his chest. “Shh,” he comforted as one hand ran up and down your back and the other held you close, “it’s okay.”

You weren’t sure how long you two stood like that. Spencer continued to whisper sweet affirmations to you, really just wanting you to feel better. His concern for germs and the stains that could appear on his lilac button up shirt were far away, not circling his mind. All he could focus on was getting you to calm down. He waited patiently for your sobs to slow down and your shoulders to relax.

You pulled away from him, wiping your eyes, “I’m sorry,” you apologized. For everything. For how silly you looked, for crying, for the dark spot on his shirt, everything.

“No need.” He dismissed your attempt, “do you want to talk about it now?” You once again nodded, leaning back against your desk. You were more relaxed now that you had let out your feelings. Still, you felt somehow even sillier as your biggest problem escaped your lips, “I really just wanted to go the library tomorrow.”

Spencer’s face scrunched up, expecting a much more catastrophic reason behind your emotional outburst. You saw the confusion written across his face and went into a deeper explanation. “I had my whole weekend planned out, and the highlight of it was going to the library tomorrow morning. I got an email that said it’s closed indefinitely because of a plumbing issue. And then all the computer issues and my lunch was ruined and it’s just been all around a shitty day. And I can’t even go home and relax like I wanted to because the fucking library is closed.”

Spencer nodded at your angry rambling, happy you were past the crying part of your frustration. He was a bit shocked at your foul language, knowing it wasn’t a common thing for you. His brain moved on quickly, recognizing he had a solution to your problem. “Why don’t you come to my house?”

It was your turn to scrunch your face up in confusion, not understanding what he was proposing. This instantly launched Spencer into an awkward recovery rambling, “I mean, I have a lot of books. Not as much as the public library, as the average library has over 100,000 books, most of which are general fiction, although some would argue that young adult fiction is more common,” he took a breath and attempted to move on from his side track, “I have a fraction of that, but more than the average person. I bet you could find something to read from my collection.” He concluded.

Your entire mood changed as he finished his proposition. It was amazing that he could come up with such a practical solution to such a ridiculous problem, and it was even more amazing how quickly he did. Spencer was welcoming you into his home, allowing you to borrow a book, which you knew were precious to him. He was being so caring, so kind.

“Spencer,” you said, with the amount of awe and adoration you were feeling dripping through, “that is so nice.”

Your sweet tone as you said his name had Spencer’s knees feeling weak. The way you said his name sounded so sweet, like you dripping ooey gooey honey from your mouth.

His cheeks turned red, “it’s nothing. I just don’t want to see you crying again.” You nodded, making a mental note to do your best not to cry in the bullpen anymore. “Are you sure it’s okay?” Spencer immediately nodded, “of course it is. I’ll send you my address.” The smile that adorned your face contrasted sharply with the tears stains on your cheek, but he was so happy to see it.

“Thank you so much,” you said one last time, before packing up your bag to head home.

You tried to pretend that you didn’t set your alarm a little bit early so you’d have more than enough to get ready. You justified it by telling yourself that this was your day, you just wanted to feel as good as possible. Sure, going to Spencer’s house had absolutely nothing to do with it.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face as you climbed into the car, turning on your favorite song and started making your way to the local cafe you and Emily frequented. You knew Spencer liked his drinks sweet, so you did your best to pick out something he’d like, and then hopped back in your car and continued your drive to his home.

It didn’t take long to get there, thankfully. You didn’t want to hand him a cold coffee.

“Hello,” he greeted after you shyly knocked on his door. He was dressed in a FBI branded hoodie and a pair of jeans. You guessed he was only dressed because of your presence, judging by how lackluster his outfit was compared to the button ups, ties, and cardigans he wore to work.

“I don’t think I can say thank you enough, so I bought a coffee to show my appreciation.” Your smile grew tenfold when his eyes lit up at the small cup in your hand. “I told you, it’s no problem. But, thank you for the coffee.” He nodded as he took it from you and opened the door wider, allowing you to step into his apartment.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting it too look like, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because the real thing was much more grand than anything your imagination could’ve conjured up. Green walls with dark wood molding, a beautifully worn leather couch, bookcases full of books and DVDs of his favorite tv shows. It was so incredibly Spencer, and easily the coziest place you’ve ever stepped foot in. Not even the cluttered stacks of books that adorned parts of the floor and coffee table could take away from the beauty that is Spencer Reid’s apartment.

“Wow, Spence,” you sighed in awe, glancing around the space, “your home is beautiful.” Spencer blushed, ushering you to step farther in. “I’m sorry to be a pain, but could you take your shoes off? I don’t want to track the outside in.” You understood what he meant and nodded, knowing it would save him a lot of mysophobia-induced worry.

“Do you want a tour?” Spencer inquired, setting his cup down on the coffee table. You excitedly nodded, wanting nothing more than to explore his space. He moved towards the left-most bookshelf in his living room, “This is all non-fiction, organized with my very own Dewey decimal system,” he gloated. It was easily to tell that Spencer was proud of his book collection, rightfully so. “The rest of them,” he gestured to two more shelves on the left side of his RCA brand television, “are fiction. They’re organized by author, so you should feel right at home when you’re browsing.”

You nodded excitedly. You couldn’t wait to sort through his mountains of novels.

“This TV is probably older than you,” he quickly breezed over it, “and this is the start of my disc collection. It’s just my favorites right now, Doctor Who, a few soap operas and a couple French films.” You nodded along as he made his list. “This is where my records go, and the occasional CD. I prefer physical media, as opposed to streaming.” That factoid made sense for Spencer.

“There’s a chess table over there, my couch, and the kitchen. My room and the bathroom are down the hall.” Your eyes scanned the room one last time, completely and utterly impressed. “I love it, Spencer. I can only imagine how good it feels to come home to this.” Spencer’s cheeks turned red, not used to being showered in compliments like this.

“Um,” he took a second to collect himself, “I’ve read all of the ones on the shelves, so if you need summaries or reviews I’ll be here. This stack,” he points to the one next to the couch, “are my newest ones, but you are more than welcome to any of them. And this one,” he points to the one next to the chess table, “are ones I am planning to donate, so you are welcome to keep them if you’d like.”

You nodded at his words again, practically ripping at the seams with excitement. Your cheeks were starting to hurt from how long you’d been smiling.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Spencer remarked, reaching for his coffee cup. He wanted to make sure he was honoring your previous weekend plans, allowing you to browse his home library to your heart’s content. He wouldn’t go far, just to the kitchen, so you could have your space.

Before you could stop yourself you were calling out a hurried, “wait!” You stopped, almost if you’d shocked yourself with your remark. You couldn’t help yourself. You felt like you wanted him, no, needed him around. As if the beauty and the warmth and the coziness of his home would dampen by his departure. You stuttered a bit, trying to justify your interruption. “Do you have any recommendations?” was the best you could come up with.

As if he didn’t notice how much higher your voice had gotten, Spencer’s back straightened up and his eyes widen with joy. “I do!” He cheered, heading over to his shelves of fiction books. “This is The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury,” he didn’t even have to look before pulling it down, “it’s a number of stories tied together with a narrative about a man whose tattoos tell stories.” Spencer moved to the coffee table, setting it down right in the middle.

“This one,” he moves back to the shelf, “is called Mother Night. It’s about the conflicted emotions of a Nazi propagandist who doesn’t believe in the propaganda.” Spencer places this book right on top of the previous one.

He does this a few more times, until you have your own stack of books he’d picked out for you. You couldn’t help but notice how your pile fit like a missing puzzle piece in his world of books.

“And this one,” Spencer starts for the fifth or sixth time, but takes a second to glance at you. He realizes quickly that you’re no longer paying attention to the summaries he’s providing. Instead, your attention is turned to the pile of books he’d been creating. For the third time since you arrived, his face is read with embarrassment. He’d been rambling. For far too long. “I’m sorry,” he sighs, moving to return the books to the shelves, “you wanted to browse. I just love books, and I wanted to make sure you found something you like! I didn’t mean to start rambling.”

You’re easily broken out of your trance, quickly pulled away from your imaginations of your own novels mixed in with his on these shelves. “No!” You said, stepping closer to him, “I loved your recommendations, Spencer!” You reassured him, reaching for his arm.

“It’s okay, I promise. I like listening to you talk.” You successfully rendered him speechless, creating a momentary lag in brain. You were so close to him, complimenting his rambles and being interested in his opinions. His breath caught in his throat as he noticed the sparkles in your eyes.

“I don’t mean to come on too strong or anything, but if you want to, I’d really like to kiss you right now,” Spencer whispered into the delicate space between you. You simply nodded, too enamored with the moment to say anything. His right hand came to rest gently against your cheek as he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. His touch was feather-light and his lips tasted like sugar, definitely from the coffee you’d given him.

The kiss was a few seconds long, filled with nothing but sickly sweet puppy love.

“Thank you,” he whispered again. You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips, “anytime, Spence.” He let out a light laugh as well.

He couldn’t help himself from pulling you back into him, taking up on your ‘anytime’ offer. This kiss was filled with sweetness, just as last one was. His hands moved to waist, making sure you were flush against him.

You reciprocated, just wanting to be close to him. Your hands moved upwards, entangling themselves into his hair, as you swiped your tongue along his bottom lip. You smiled against his lips, breaking the ever-growing tension in the room.

When you two pulled away, you found yourself marveling at Spencer. He just looked so pretty, with his now tussled hair and slightly swollen lips. You wished you could commit this sight to memory, just as he was doing to you. While he never had to try, Spencer’s gaze lingered on you for just a second longer, making sure his eidetic memory was doing its job, before he spoke.

“I know you had plans for your weekend, but I’d love to take you on a date, if you’d like.” Spencer stumbled through his proposal, trying to find the words. “I don’t know, I went through a lot of trouble to get to this point.” You joked, sending both of you into a fit a laughter. “C’mon,” you stepped away from him as you moved closed to the door, “let’s go grab lunch.”

[little-boyyyy-blog]

camera shy

alessia russo x reader

in which alessia invited you to do an episode on her podcast, only for it to become a fan favorite for a very specific reason.

“and who do we have joining us today el?”

“why are you asking me? you’re the one who set up this episode” ella sat up closer to her mic, a small giggle coming from your lips as you saw how irritated ella was. she had begged you countless amounts of times to come on her and alessia show. only for you now to show.

you had only been willing to give into the podcast request after a certain someone had called you and nearly begged at your hand and foot for you to come and join for an episode.

don’t get you wrong. you loved ella, you wouldn’t have even met alessia if it wasn’t for ella. but you have been notoriously camera shy for your whole life. english camp or post interviews, you were a hassle to find and even worse to talk to.

you weren’t secretive to say. just cautious of what you allowed not only your friends and family to know; but also the fans.

though, ever since meeting alessia that secrecy had started to slip.

it started early, after sitting on the bench for england for nearing two years. you had gotten your first start on the women’s national team in injury time around 2 years ago. leading you to getting to know a few of the girls even better after the match, tooney being one.

you have spent much of your time playing and starting for the u21 team but once you have passed that age, you hadn’t realized how hard it would be to break into not only the bench but the starting midfield positions on the first team. tooney never really had a reason to talk to you, but she had made an effort that night.

started with congratulating you after the match at the nightclub that esme forced you into to going. then ella found you at breakfast a few times, bringing her big personality and her loud tyldesley accent to your table. you had thought it was slightly weird. knowing you were a rotational picked player for camp, one who hadn’t seen game time since that injury time start. so her trying to make friends with you made you almost suspicious.

you had fallen okay with not always being picked; many people told you that playing for your nation meant more than for a club. and to some extent you would absolutely agree.

but at the time you were being known for bringing liverpool to the top of the championship table. and everyone was talking about you in the aspect for what you were doing for your club. you were happy with that, national team starts would come later.

and later did come. slightly earlier than expected; but once it did, you not only found your team back in the super league but your name on your nations call up list. life had started getting better. and maybe a certain blonde by your side helped.

alessia only started coming around once she realized her best friend was running off every once in a while at national camp, getting frustrated when ella would come back an hour later only to say she was with you.

alessia had admitted she was jealous of you at some point. feeling as if you were almost taking her bestfriend away from her. but she quickly learned that she was able to share ella with you. and even became more jealous of ella at one point for getting to know you better than she did.

it was also hard for many people to overlook the manchester/liverpool rivalry but the three of you seemed to manage it perfectly. you and alessia more than anyone.

you were playing in the championship league anyways so why would you have cared? you found alessia not only attractive but one of the most interesting and intelligent people you have ever met.

the way her brain picked at things was one of the biggest attractions you had towards the stargirl. mind you, you hadn’t vocalized your attraction to the blonde for almost a year due to your fear of rejection and your lack of knowledge of the girl’s sexuality. you had known that ella was straight and with her boyfriend; leading you to believe alessia only could be the same.

you now know that was a terrible assumption but who were you know? and once alessia’s made her move to arsenal. one on one time with alessia just happened to come along with that. which made your relationship come on sooner than later. only due to the blonde making a move. stating that it was insufferable waiting for you to do it.

“so today we’ve graciously joined by our friend and lionesses teammate y/n l/n!” ella and alessia cheered as if you weren’t already in the yellow room sat on the grey couch next to alessia, forcing ella to sit in what was normally vick’s chair.

“good morning.”

“you know if you’re going to be on a podcast you have to be interested y/n?”

“what else was i supposed to say??” alessia’s hand came to rest on top of yours. a small gesture of gratitude for you being there that made everything easy again. “anywho! we are graciously joined by our nations left back and my arch nemesis.”

“isn’t that niamh?”

“you too! god you’re making this difficult.”

“hun go easy on her” a sigh coming from your mouth as the smile that once crack your face at the teasing had to go away. “fine, it’s nice to see you ella. for the third time this week”

chuckles coming from alessia as she tried to hide how funny she found you. “this was a terrible idea.”

“we need to get on, there’s no way they’ll air this.”

“alright. so from helping your team be promoted from the championships to the wsl, now to changing your position from midfield to the outside backs for the england national team. what do you think was the biggest challenge you’ve overcame this year?” ella quickly changed the subject, wanting as much airtime as she could possibly get.

but fuck ella. she just loved to jump straight into things. you’re cheeks flushed a bright red as you couldn’t help but be flustered. being put on the spot was never your thing. “oh.”

“now you’ve scared her!” alessia shifted closer to you and you held onto her hand tighter.

“i didn’t mean to?”

“no no. um. i’d have to say definitely coming into this season newly promoted. i had a lot of stress and expectations riding on me. i know we had an amazing season, finishing fourth. just behind you..” you poked at alessia. an eyeroll and a scoff from ella made you smile at the pair.

“but it’s hard coming from the championship to now the wsl. the players are more competitive, the games are faster and mean more. helped me even get to playing consistently for the national team.”

both of the girls beamed their bright smiles at you; ella and alessia have always been your biggest fans it seemed. they credited most of the work that liverpool did to make it out of the championships and now within the top 5 of the wsl to you.

it faltered you; making your cheeks burn and you look down everytime. the compliments were sweet. you knew you had done a lot for liverpool but it never got old. and you did do it by yourself. “that’s all the girls. we’ve worked hard and had goals on staying in the league.”

“how is the league treating you?” ella asked, getting a sign from one of the people behind the camera to keep it going. “it’s definitely a more aggressive game. ask alessia”

“i didn’t mean to?!”

“taking out your girlfriends ankles isn’t normal hun.” a smile breaking across your lips as you teased your girlfriend. you had always loved the way her ears flushed a little red when she get embarrassed.

“i didn’t mean it y/n” she groaned out. trying her puppy dog eyes on you.

you wouldn’t fall victim again, grabbing her chin and moving her face from looking at you. “clipped my ankle in midfield even, you knew you wouldn’t win the ball.”

“you’re almost 6’. nobody believes that i tried to clip you baby.”

“alessia told me she planned it out.”

“ella!”

“baby?” alessia asked, her head resting in your chest as she looked up at you.

a small smile breaking across your face at her pet name, it didn’t matter what followed it, you loved being called it by her. “yes my love?”

“thank you for doing my show today, i know you don’t like being on camera but you coming out today and being there for ella and i meant the world to me.”

your hand stopped as you rubbed her back, the sweet words coming from your girl made your heart almost stop. you would have done anything for alessia. you still will.

“i’d have a camera following me everyday; everywhere if it meant i could spend those days with you.”

alessia pulled herself up off of your torso , hovering over your body as she smiled down you.

pushing your body up on your elbows; alessia took your lips into hers. feeling alessia on your lips would never get old. and never will. you promised that to her and yourself. you’d never get tired of alessia.

your hands trailed up her shirt, hands spreading across her sides as you felt goosebumps grow under your hands. she always reacted that way. and you’ll never take it for granted.

she pulled back only a little, a massive grin plastered against her lips. ones that were soon to pressed back against yours.

“i did mean to clip your ankles that game.”

[dead-girl-tells-stories]

DP x DC prompt:

Daniel was seething. It's been a year since he left the league and they've already found him. Well, it was his mother who found him. Not that that was any better but at least it wasn't Grandfather.

It also shouldn't have taken him so long to dispose of those soldiers. They weren't even that capable. Far below his level and yet he struggled. He needed to resume his training soon or else he would become rusty.

He cursed himself for getting too comfortable with civilian life. Not that his life was comfortable, far from actually.

He had been adopted by a pair of mad scientist with no concept of lab safety; and for all the intelligence they had, they couldn't fathom how to properly take care of a child, leaving their daughter to take care of herself and now her newly adopted sibling!

He sighed. He was starting to get angry. He couldn't afford to get angry. Especially not at Jazz. She was only two years older than him and was doing her best. She's also the only good thing in his life right now meaning that he had to cherish her, not break her. (He wouldn't be like his brother)

His mind stayed on Jazz for a while before immediately increasing his speed. He really needed to resume his training. How could he be so slack to forget such a possibility! Daniel desperately hoped that his sister Jazz was okay and that they wouldn't dare.

Entering through his bedroom window he rushed straight to Jazz's bedroom. It was open. She wasn't there.

Daniel started to panic when he heard a muffed scream coming from downstairs. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen.

In all honesty Daniel expected the worse. To see his sister Jazz dead on the floor, thick red gushing from her neck, the scent of blood in the air. And there was blood, it just wasn't her's.

Daniel always prided himself on having a vivid imagination. It was a great way to escape after an especially hard training session with his brother. But he would have never imagined this.

In the small, laughably suburban kitchen of the Fenton household was a sight to behold. In the air were two mangled bodies, unidentifiable if not for the league's emblem still visible on one of them. And on the wall was a splatter, a rather big one. It wasn't blood. It was too dark to be. But whatever it was was very unlucky.

In the center of the kitchen was Jazz. Her arms were outstretched, burning sigils rotating at the end of each palm. Her eyes glowed a bright icy blue.

Upon noticing him everything stopped. She looked fearful. Tears threatening to come forth.

"Wait I can explain, just don't tell mom or dad! Please!"

Daniel, still a bit shocked but not as much, simply walked into the kitchen towards the cupboard. Taking out a clean towel he unsheathed he sword and began to clean it.

He looked over his shoulder towards Jazz. She didn't look as scared but her eyes still held some fear. So he spoke, making sure the still bloody sword was in veiw.

"I won't tell if you don't." He flashed a grin his tiny fangs peaking out.

Jazz sighed as in the weight of the world was lifted off of her. She looked at him and smiled.

"Mom and Dad aren't going to be back for a while. Wanna help me clean up?"

[nyaagolor]

Ranking the Ace Attorney main cast on whether or not I think they'd be a narc

I was making a more coherent, serious post about the different approaches to justice each of the characters have and how that is shaped by their backstory... and then I realized a funnier question is what they would do if they saw you eating a weed brownie so I made this post instead

Phoenix: In the trilogy era, yes. He trusts people, but believes that trust has to be built on pursuing justice and always accepting the harsh reality. He'd be sad about it, but a narc nonetheless. In his Beanix era he's making his money through "totally legal gambling" and on the hunt for questionably legal evidence so I have no doubt in my mind there's a pot farm under the WAA for supplemental income. He gives up his narc ways and for that I salute him

Apollo: If I were to pick a single member of this cast who is NOT invited to the rotation it would be him. He had zero hesitation throwing Kristoph to the wolves after working for him for years so I know he has absolutely zero qualms about ratting out his friends or coworkers. Loyalty means nothing in the eyes of justice and it means nothing to him. He's a narc.

Athena: She's gonna lecture you and look all sad about it, but she's no snitch. She's been through the rounds with Simon so she gets it. Having to know you hurt her feelings is enough of a punishment in her eyes

Edgeworth: He's not a narc but he IS obsessed with being right, so if you don't immediately fess up with exactly what you're doing he's going to send your stoned ass to the chess dimension and honestly I think that's worse

Franziska: Unfortunately she is a cop. Narc.

Godot: Diego-era yeah he's a narc, but after the coma? I feel like he has better things to worry about, he would just ignore you. He has some soul searching to do and some grief complexes to unlearn he doesn't have the time to be a lil snitch. Post prison I think he's stoned somewhere in Kurain and chillaxing, as is his right

Klavier: Don't let his rockstar attitude fool you he's a narc and extremely annoying about it. The gavinners tour bus is dry as hell and it's all Klavier's fault. Daryan offers him a line and he gets all uppity and says "the only LINE i want you doing is the third line in the prechorus, you keep messing up the syncopation" and that's the end of that discussion

Simon: He's been in prison so he knows what's up. Not a narc. Might glare at you until you share though

Nahyuta: He's a narc and will lecture you so long about it you're tempted to turn yourself in to get out of earshot. He also never forgets and never forgives. Datz is trying to reform him but it isn't going well

Sebastian: Yes, but I think the idea of him having to turn in someone for it would make him cry so they end up comforting him instead. Kay thinks he needs to try a weed brownie

Maya: I want you to look at me and tell me she doesn't smoke weed. Not a narc

Pearl: I think if she found out that her big sister figure smoked weed she would have a heart attack. Def a narc

Trucy: I can say with absolute certainty that if you really wanted weed she could find you a dealer faster than anyone in the cast. Trucy is a magician and has grown up around a variety of people involved with some seedier institutions, she knows better than to snitch. Has not been and will never be a narc

Kay: Will help you shoplift. Not a narc

Gumshoe: A narc on principle, but would feel really bad about it and would probably let you off with a warning if you started crying or acting upset because I think he's a softie. He's not unreasonable

Ema: If you think she has even the tiniest sliver of respect for cops you're lying to yourself. Not a narc and will actively help you evade police out of principle. A homie, honestly

Fulbright: Not only is he a narc but he definitely runs the DARE program at the local highschool and is printed on half the posters they put up in the precinct. I'm also like 80% sure he doesn't actually know how weed works

[grandline-fics]

Hii, can I have a scenario with Law please !! I'd like something where reader is jealous.

Law and reader aren't together like they both have feelings but are completely oblivious. They're in a bar with the crew and everything, and reader and Law are talking, a woman starts flirting with him and reader (a bit drunk) gets a bit possessive

DESCRIPTION: You both have feelings for each other but you need jealousy and liquid courage to finally let it show

WARNINGS: depictions of alcohol use

CHARACTERS: Law

WORDS: 1,386

A/N: Thank you for the request! Hope you like what I came up with for this one

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

It wasn’t often the entire crew of the Polar Tang got the chance to enjoy some proper down time and unwind in a bar. You relished these moments, when there was no fights or pressing matters to deal with and you could all just enjoy the adventure you were all on. You basked in the laughter and conversation with your crew as you all sat at table as the drinks flowed as easily. Eventually most of the crew began to scatter. Whether it was breaking into their own little clusters of conversation, finding the dance floor to enjoy, potential love-interests for the night to pursue, and alcohol infused antics to take part in. Which just left you and Law sitting at the original table in deep conversation and neither of you were complaining on that part. 

Both of you had feelings for the other but had yet to act on any impulses and any moment that could have potentially led to more. For you both, neither of you wanted to risk the rejection in case you were reading the situation wrong, and as a result ruin what you both already had. So you both lived in blissful delusion that everything was fine and that nothing would progress between you beyond the close friendship you could both enjoy. After finishing your drink you got up, offering to get another for your Captain too. You stood by the bar and waited to be served, content to wait your turn in the busy building. 

“Soooo, will tonight be the night you finally confess to our Captain?” You rolled your eyes at Sachi’s playful tone coming from your side. You didn’t even humour your crewmember by giving a verbal response and instead continued to stare ahead while waiting for one of the bartenders to make their way towards you. Your lack of an answer only spurred Sachi on and he grinned while lightly poking your arm. “Oh c’mon you know it’s eating you up. I mean it’s not like he’d reject you. He’s not that stupid.” Heavily you sighed, it wasn’t Law’s intelligence that was the issue here. You had your reasons for not making a move or even entertaining the thought of telling Law. Firmly you kept your mouth shut. “You know if you don’t let him know he’ll end up getting with someone else.”

“Sachi, the Captain and I aren’t an item. I don’t own him and he’s never made a move either. He can ‘get with’ anyone he wants.” You finally spoke, turning to lean against the bar and look at Sachi with a frown. You really didn’t get why he was being so pushy about the subject but after seeing the flush against his cheeks and large drink in his hand you decided to put it down to the alcohol in his system making him like this. You cast a glance around the bar to see the rest of your crew were letting themselves truly enjoy the evening and let the drink make them more relaxed and at ease. A night without having to constantly worry about the readings of the sub and having to do set rotations and watches was a godsend and one that everyone knew to make the most of. 

Finally you let your sight fall back to the table you and Law had been sitting at and your whole body tensed to see your seat was now filled by a woman who had her sights firmly set on your Captain. Worse still it seemed he was enjoying her presence, the fact that he hadn’t told her to get lost and instead seemed to be answering whatever she was saying was proof of that. You tried to bite back the bitter taste climbing your throat and forced your expression to remain as calm as it could even though you wanted nothing more than to glare at the scene. Like you’d said to Sachi, Law could have whoever he wanted. You didn’t own him. And yet your fingers flexed and tightly fisted against the edge of the bar’s countertop. “Hmmm she’s cute. If you want to give the Captain some privacy you can join us?” 

Law didn’t know what he could say to this woman to give her the hint that he wasn’t interested. He couldn’t outright say what he wanted to to this girl, with everyone enjoying their night of freedom the last thing he wanted was to bring trouble to their door. So he just had to give short, basic answers to his unwanted acquaintance while he waited for you. You were the only person Law wanted to spend time with, no one else made him feel the way he did. Thankfully he felt your familiar presence approach behind him and his hand instinctively lifted to take the beer you reached out to him without needing to turn and look. “Thanks, I’ll get the next round.” He told you and then blinked in confusion when you remained standing behind him. 

“Don’t worry about it.” You said, taking a slow sip of your drink and maintaining eye-contact with the woman still in your seat. It brought you swift satisfaction to see the nervousness in her eyes and watch her adjust her position. “Who’s your friend?” You asked while letting your free arm drape over your Captain’s shoulder, your fingers almost grazing against his bicep. Law’s eyes flickered down to your hand and said nothing. You were probably only doing it because of the fact you were still standing and your balance would be slightly skewed from your alcohol intake. The woman opposite you both tried to introduce herself to you but quickly forgot her name as soon as it was out of her mouth. 

“Are you just going to keep standing there?” She snapped, suddenly becoming defensive to your presence that she clearly didn’t want interfering with her hopes at getting to know Law better and you smirked at her. “You’re in my seat.” You answered simply with a smile, shifting your feet and making it so your chest was pressing a little closer against Law’s back. 

Law watched the woman splutter and look around the empty seats around them. “Well sit somewhere else!” She protested in annoyance, unable to really cause a fuss because you weren’t actually doing anything to intimidate or threaten her. Last time you’d checked standing wasn’t a crime and she knew that. At her suggestion you pouted, pretending to think about sitting somewhere else. Truth be told you had a moment of going to a different table when you’d first caught sight of her with Law but your jealousy and sudden spark of possessiveness only got worse and her whining only provoked you even more. “There’s tons of places for you to sit, just pick somewhere else. It’s really off-putting if you keep standing there.”

“Oh I’m so sorry! The last thing I want is to be off-putting!” You gasped in false concern before smirking as you stepped around Law and perched yourself with ease on his lap. “There we go, how’s that?” You asked sweetly while trying to ignore how rapidly your heart was beating. You’d been so focused on getting under this woman’s skin to get her to leave that you didn’t stop to think about what you were doing but it was far too late to go back. That was proven even more when Law’s arm secured it around your waist, effectively keeping you seated and his chest firmly against your back. “So, are you finally going to leave us alone now?” Law asked frowning at the woman who floundered and finally got to her feet storming off to find someone else to annoy. 

You waited a moment to be sure she’d left and prepared to stand only to freeze when Law’s fingers flexed against you in a silent sign for you to stay. Clearing your throat you looked up at him, questioning him and afraid to even speak. Law smirked down at you, deciding that maybe acting on impulse and having liquid courage wouldn’t be such a bad thing especially if it led to more of these kinds of moments with you. “You can’t get up now, I wouldn’t want to risk someone else coming by and taking your seat.”   

[prael]

Trouble

male reader x NMIXX Haewon Masterlist

5.5k words [commissioned work]

this is a follow-up to studious

There’s this thing about trouble. You don’t look for it. It finds you. 

Haewon is most certainly trouble. The best kind of trouble. The kind of trouble that, while you know the possible consequences, she makes it all worth it. Anyone could have walked in on her riding you in that classroom, but at the time, you couldn’t have cared less.

***

Not a week later, you find yourself staring down trouble once again. What should have been a normal day at the beach with your friends became a chance encounter with the person you somehow wanted to see both the most and the least right now. 

There’s no denying the perks—some of them you spent the past hour admiring. But you can’t shake off the fear that she’s about to cause a scene. After all, you still haven’t found the right words to text her since that evening. Luckily, you had done a successful job of avoiding her until now.

As each minute of the past hour had passed, the tension seemed only to build as you waited for the girl sat only a few meters ahead of you to cause a scene. Your friends passed through a series of conversations you don’t really recall amidst the distraction. There was something about classes, someone’s brother, oh, and a brief mention of the rumour of two unnamed students getting it on in Mr Choi’s classroom—avoiding that conversation was for the best.

Haewon continues rotating through her repetitions. Picking up her phone and scrolling through social media for a while. Taking a drink from her bottle, with her usual habit of taking one small sip before a mouthful. And occasionally taking a short walk around.

You shouldn’t care, but you do. You can’t fight the frustration that she hasn’t spoken to you yet. Yes, you dread her confronting you, but it can’t be worse than being left in the cold. Not even a smile or a customary glance in your direction. It’s inconceivable that she simply hasn’t noticed you. Not even moments ago, she strutted right by where you are sitting. Her short jean shorts sitting at the very top of her thigh passed at eye level. Each step was accompanied by a sway of her hips and a ripple sent down her thighs.

Fuck. Just thinking about it again made your own shorts uncomfortable. Again.

It’s impossible to look away. Haewon has returned to relaxing on her lounger now. Although it looks like she changed the angle of it now and suddenly, as she sits with one leg outstretched and the other bent slightly, she gives you a perfect show.

It could all be a coincidence. Maybe she really hasn’t noticed you. She just happened to walk right by you, she just happened to adjust the angle of her lounger.

However, there is one thing you can be sure of with Haewon; everything she does has a purpose. 

You plant your feet into the burning sand and immediately pull them back, recoiling in pain. Better put your sliders on first, idiot. The way Haewon messed with your mind is dangerous, literally.

Aimlessly walking. Salty sea breeze against your face and through your hair. Uneasy footing on the soft sand. Eyes wandering. Down the length of the beach, then out to sea. The crashing waves—rhythmic chaos.

Contrasting the other chaos—that which has no rhythm and is completely unpredictable. That which is right behind you, her strides just a little longer than your own, closing the distance by which she tails you. You couldn’t even get a minute without this woman in your mind today.

“Need a moment to yourself?” It wasn’t a real question, nor an offer to give you one. Moreso a taunt from the lips of Haewon as she places herself by your side. 

“I’m just going to, um…” You look ahead and spot the public bathroom, which you are getting close to walking by. “The bathroom.”

“No… You’re just walking away because staring at me for the past hour is getting you a little hot under the collar.”

Haewon has a read on you like no other, and it’s far too uncomfortable. You don’t have a response to her unexpected intuition, instead choosing to grunt and continue walking, picking up the pace a little. 

Haewon catches up to you with a little skip in her step. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. I’m sure no one noticed you getting hard. Putting your bag on your lap really helped cover it up.”

With sarcasm in her tone, she mocks you.

You take a moment to swallow that lump in your throat before replying, “that’s not what happened. I just wanted to—”

“Please. You’re going to pretend you haven’t been staring at me for the past hour?” 

“No—”

“So, someone else?” Haewon cuts you off again. “It’s that why you never texted me? You must be some kind of player.”

“There’s no one else, Haewon.”

“I knew it was me.”

She’s good. It’s like a chess game, and she’s moving all the right pieces—always putting you in check. There’s no surprise, though; it’s what she does. It’s what she has done to you before—the note in your locker, the timing, the place, her confident words.

“I’m gonna go to the toilet now, Haewon.” You turn away and divert into the thankfully empty single public toilet. You didn’t even need to use it, but it’s impossible to be played if you take all your pieces off the board.

You open the door and slip inside, not looking back at the girl you left on the sand. You pull the door closed behind you but come to a sudden stop when an arm reaches into the gap and stops you. Haewon’s head flicks left and right, scanning the immediate area, her shiny brunette locks flowing as they’re thrown side-to-side.

She slips into the small room with you, slamming the door shut and flicking the lock. Haewon hesitates to turn around, still facing the door. Silence fills the room for a few seconds, and you can’t help but explore her body with your eyes. Following her flowing hair down to her white crop top. One that you mentally praise heavily for the way it reveals her lower back. 

Head cocked back. Shoulders shifting. Her chest heaves as she forcefully expels a full breath. 

Haewon spins. Her back against the door. Palms open against it too. And behind the loose locks on her face are eyes shining with intent.

Maybe she feels like she’s winning—or already won. This could be checkmate and all that’s left is for you to knock over your king and concede. But you know the truth, and the sense of accomplishment can’t help but force a smile onto your lips. All the avoidance, the refusal to text her, and the distant admiring. The acting like the fool—the flustered young man—who dipped into a bathroom to escape her. Perfect bait.

Haewon steps away from the wall and moves a little closer to you. Okay, maybe all your avoidance wasn’t acting—she does have a way of throwing you off kilter—but at least some of it was. Now locked in this room with Haewon, the result couldn’t have been closer to what you wanted.

Last time it was all her plan. Actions she set in motion and entirely dictated.

However, now as Haewon pushes her slim fingers under the hem of her top and pulls it slowly overhead, she does so on neutral ground. Ground that gratefully accepts the item of clothing as she drops her shirt to the floor.

Your smile becomes a grin as you admire what she revealed. It’s almost a talent in its own right how she had perfectly constructed the scene under her top. She picked a piece of lingerie that was designed with a sole purpose; to show as much as possible without showing everything. The smallest patch of lace possible is placed directly over the nipple, and that was it bar the straps. Cleavage. Side-boob. Under-boob. The whole fucking boob on show.

Haewon takes another step forward. There are maybe two more until she’s up against you, and she seems intent on making each one count. Haewon slips her thumbs under the waistband of her short—really short—shorts.

“Tell me to stop.”

It’s a dare.

Another test.

One of many where she thinks the only acceptable answer is silent awe. 

“Don’t stop.” Contradictory. Stern. Not a voice, in tone or content, that you’ve used with Haewon before.

Could be that, given the headstrong young woman she is, she hides it well, but your answer doesn’t break her composure and she forces her shorts away from her hips, letting them hit the floor in a similar fashion to her top. 

Although she has no smart remark to return, her actions do the talking as her structured performance continues. Another step, her hands snaking behind her back toward the clasp of her bra. As she plants her left foot, she pops it open—the fabric giving way to the two bundles beneath. Haewon brings her hands to her side, allowing the bra to fall from her body. It lands atop her shorts, still attached to her back foot. With one swift flick, both her shorts and her bra are sent into the corner of the room.

"You should smile like that more." 

Unknowingly, unwittingly, Haewon’s exposed body has drawn a smile across your face. You catch yourself and attempt to rein it in a little. However, it's easier said than done while you admire her porcelain skin, which looks so soft to the touch. The line of her waist and how her underwear perfectly accentuates the curve of her hips. And how her two perfect tits still held a perky fullness—looking like a perfect match for the cupped palm of your hands.

Haewon continues, “As much as I appreciate the brewing mystery behind your often blank face, that confident smile is much more exciting. It’s much more you.”

It was sudden, then. Caught off balance, even with your natural charm and wit—the initiative was never yours to take. But Haewon’s right. This time you’re honing in on something. Unearthing a side to you which can take the lead with confidence and a smile. A worthy opponent to her bravado.

"Then keep giving me reasons to smile."

"I'm giving you a reason to do a lot more right now." Haewon reaches out, places her hands on your shoulders and then runs one of them down to your chest. Her soft tones and slow movement contrast how she digs her nails into your skin through your shirt.

She's right. And it's outright foolish to even still be clothed right now. It's easily fixed. You pull the hem of your shirt upwards, and Haewon raises her hands to let it go by before planting them down—now against your bare skin.

"Better," Haewon whispers as she runs her eyes down your upper body. “Now. How about I…” She lets the words roll slowly off her tongue as she buckles one knee and slowly falls to the other.

“Wait.” Determined to have your own say on the pace of this encounter, you halt Haewon. A word accompanied by a hand wrapped around her nape. You pull back as you lean forward, taking her heart-shaped lips with your own. Capturing them with audible assertion, you engage her with gumption. It only lasts a moment before Haewon twists free and captures her breath. 

Inches apart, yet connected by a fine silk string of saliva. Lips not touching but still kissed with the heat of each other’s breath. Her eyes holding you in a grasp that her hands couldn’t manage. There’s no guarantee. This could be one of many times, or it could never happen again, so you can forgive yourself for enjoying the heat of this moment for a little.

“No more waiting,” Haewon snaps. Keeping her waiting almost feels criminal—though that’s nothing compared to what will come next.

She slips your grasp and retakes hold of the wheel, driving her way inside your shorts. In the blink of an eye, they’re by your ankles, and her delicate touch meets your delicate parts. Her fingers find their way over every part of your growing cock. She tickles, pulls, tugs and rolls it around in her touch.

“I missed this,” Haewon says under hot breath as she pulls her hands away, admiring your length with only her eyes.

“I missed you,” you confess. And not a word of a lie. How could anyone not miss this pretty girl with her perfect touch?

“Really?” Her expression half one of happiness and half unsure of your honesty.

“Really.” Your answer triggers Haewon’s next move. She positions herself dangerously close to your semi-erect cock, such that each breath kisses it with heat and forces a small twitch. With parted lips, Haewon’s tongue slips from her mouth and hooks it underneath the tip. But she doesn’t rest on her laurels, instead, she pulls her head upwards, her tongue lifting your cock upwards. She holds it there for a second, suspended in the air.

Haewon presses forwards, pursing her lips into a snug fit for the head of your cock. Retracting her tongue to guide you into her. It’s a swift move, one of elegance and precision that ends with most of your cock nestled into her mouth.

You’d be forgiven for thinking that her tongue has done its job, got you where you needed to be and then would take a rest. Alas, it simply begins the second part of its performance. It slides. It swirls. It wraps around your cock in patterns that seemed impossible. You glance down, Haewon has her eyes closed in pure concentration. 

She’s giving her everything, her whole fucking soul to one thing—

Your pleasure. 

What could be a minute—or could be more—passes. Time is a concept beyond your current comprehension. The whole world could be in reverse right now and Haewon’s swirling tongue would make you none the wiser. 

Haewon’s cheeks hollow as she sucks hard on your dick, accompanied by a backward movement of her head. With just her mouth, she pulls your hips forward until you’re forced to pull back to maintain balance. What went in is nothing compared to what came out. Haewon wipes away the spit running from her lips and admires it. Your cock stands stiff, smothered and dripping with saliva that reflects the light above.

“I really fucking missed it,” Haewon says, wrapping her hand around the shaft. “I need it.” She gives you every reason to be confident in yourself, and given how fixated her eyes are; you have every reason to believe her.

“What about you?” Haewon continues. “Did you miss this?”

Haewon keeps hold of you for balance, throwing her other hand behind her head and leaning backwards. Her knees on the floor, legs slightly open, with her thighs pressing down against her calves, accentuating their softness. 

"I really fucking missed it. I need it," You copy her, word for word, with the same playful tone.

“Of course you did. That’s so obvious.” Haewon speaks as she climbs to her feet. “So when are you going to stop fucking around?” 

With a wave of hair washing over your face, Haewon spins and steps back into you, then nestles her head back into your shoulder and her ass against your bare crotch.

“Do I have to keep throwing myself at you or are you going to take me?” She brings her hand to her face while she speaks and once she stops, drops a pool of saliva into her palm. 

“You’re such a red flag, Haewon.”

“That so?" She pauses for a moment to allow a pool of saliva to fall from her lips into the palm of her hand. "I guess I see it.” Haewon continues a conversation in parallel, yet unrelated, to her actions. Her hand finds your length again, adding to the copious fluids before placing it between her plump cheeks where just a thin piece of fabric prevents a happy accident. “What kind of girl just throws herself at someone in a classroom, then follows him into a toilet, right? What, do you think I do this to everyone?”

“I don’t know what to think, and that’s the red flag. What happened to a nice dinner and getting to know eachother?” 

She’s pushing down on your hips, making you lower your body, your cock sliding down against her pants until you go low enough for it to slip between her legs. A small nudge back and you’re stuck. Trapped on three sides, the tops of her thighs on either side and the sticky warmth in her underwear above.

“I think we're a little bit past that already, this is the real test of chemistry. Why waste time at dinner if you’re just going to disappoint after?”

“So that’s what this is, an evaluation? Should I expect a score after?” The words are difficult to force past your throat when your breath is hitching. All because she’s rocking now, with her hips. Slowly backwards before snapping forward again. Engulfed in her soft flesh, there’s a gentle pressure on your cock. Enabled by her spit, you are parting her thighs and pressing against her warmth each time she sets back.

“Satisfactory.” Blunt. Almost offensive. Effective. A challenge has been set. Haewon twists her neck, peering over her shoulder.

“Satisfactory?”

“What, you’re going to get all upset now?” Haewon grins and picks up her pace, sliding her pillowy thighs over your cock, and throwing her body against yours. The thin film of sweat on her back is a little sticky against your chest.

“Not exactly.” You bring your hands into the action, a firm grip on one of her hips, burying your fingers into her flesh and the other guiding your arm around her upper body—pacifying her movements. You unbend your knees and un-sink your hips.

You continue, “why don’t you tell me what it takes to excel?” All the while pushing yourself away from the wall, and you guide Haewon forward before directing her to the right-hand wall. You manipulate her like a puppet suspended from strings—if the strings were your arms and your stiff cock jammed against her soaked panties.

“I like someone who knows when to take—” Haewon is cut off as she braces herself for a collision against the sink and the mirror behind it. 

“—control.”

With a hand in the centre of her back, you create momentary separation. Enough to slide down to your knees. You face her milky ass, divided in the middle by jet-black fabric. It’s mostly easy to slide the soft lace away from her hips and down her legs. The bit between her legs is the last to give way, the sticky mix of her wet pussy and your saliva needing it to be peeled away from her smoothly-shaven skin.

“And?” you ask, looking up and her glistening eyes, which yet again peer over her shoulder.

“Someone who knows what they want and how to take it.” You know exactly what you want. It’s destiny. Destiny is a funny name for the lips of her cunt peeking through the gap at the top of her thighs.

"Ah!" Haewon yelps as her glistening, fair skin accepts you—engulfs you—as you dive face-first into her. A hold on her hips enables you to dig deeper, propelling your mouth toward her delectable pussy. You'll make her wait for your verbal response as your mouth gets to work, lapping up any moisture you can find on her plump lips. 

"F-fffuck." Haewon curses under her breath as your tongue pierces into the tight folds of her cunt. Her thick thighs and voluminous ass don't make it easy on you to bury your tongue into her. An impossible combination of firm and soft which would send any man into spiralling wonderment.

Haewon fights. Struggles. Doing so verbally. Uttering instructions which fall upon deaf ears. Physically. Reaching out behind her in desperate attempts to grasp your hair. Each time she has a hold, there’s a moment of pain before another wave of pleasure numbs her grip, and her digits fall helplessly through your locks.

It's clear that she's scrambling for answers, for as much as she baited—even gaslit—this response from you, she didn't really expect it. Not like this. Maybe in a way that she could easily wrestle back control. But likely not in a way that would result in her being subdued against a sink. 

Yet here you are. With hands exploring all the parts of her body you fantasise about. Eating her cunt with ravenous intent. You're giving her your all. Really fucking giving her it. 

Looking up past her plump cheeks that fill most of your vision, the result is clear to see. Long gone is the fight, the resistance, even that intense stare she gave you. Her arms don't reach for you but instead look to support her trembling body. Her head is thrown forward as it spills out utter gibberish via her mouth. Half-words and full-truths. You're so good. You manage to piece that one together from the three attempts she took at it. 

Pointless words really. All the vindication you need runs from your chin and drips to the tiled floor.

Time stood still, or it sped up—one of them. Either way, the concept of linearity is lost on you. Lost somewhere in the time you spent eating her cunt. Lost somewhere among the myriad of curves her body presents, admired with a caress of your gaze and rhythmic touch.

It's both a vindication of your efforts and a desperate plea for more, the way she uses her hands on the wall, the mirror, the sink, and anything she can grab to force herself back against your mouth. She's absolutely insatiable, but, so are you.

A moment later and you’re back up to your feet, prying Haewon from the sink and twisting her, so her shoulders press against the wall. Your body pressed against hers. Lips pressed against another pair, your face soaked in liquid does nothing to prevent Haewon from kissing you. She looks different now. Bright red and flustered, the heat radiating from her face burns at your cheeks like you got a little too close to a fire. 

Somewhere shuffled into a series of kisses are Haewon’s breathy words, “I’m going to fuck you now.” followed by a push on your shoulders, planting you against the wall. While Haewon wraps her arms over your shoulders and around your neck, her legs around your hips and to your back, your mind calls back her earlier words. Someone who knows what they want, and how to take it.

Haewon clings to you. Your frame is her only support, with both your hands on her ass, holding her just one swift movement away from your cock. She said she was going to fuck you, and she is trying. Really fucking trying. But it’s about what you want, and how you take it.

“No, baby girl. I’m going to fuck you now.”

Another moment passes and the pendulum swings again in your favour. She has nothing to fight back with and you easily propel yourself away from the wall and send the two of you crashing into the wall opposite, narrowly missing the hand dryer and thankfully doing no damage to the mirror you plant her against. You figure that it's inevitable, that you'll pay in some form for today's actions, but a fine for damaging a public restroom is at the bottom of the preferred list.

"Tell me Haewon, who's going to fuck who?" you query, but it's rhetorical. You aren't open to negotiation or delay. You take ownership of the moment, pressing yourself up against her. Your face buried in the crook of her neck, licking along her chin and grinding your body against hers. With an arm wrapped around her waist, you pull her close, feeling the warmth from her bare cunt against your thigh. Your lips quickly find hers and you take her in a brief but passionate kiss, then her neck again—ravaging what skin she has exposed with kisses, nibbles, and licks, driving her wild as she grinds against your leg.

"Look at you, Haewon. I'm gonna fuck you so good. You want that, don't you baby?" She can't answer, she's already so overwhelmed, so you continue, "I need to hear you say it," you mumble to her between kisses.

"Y-yes," she barely croaks out. "F-fuck me..."

And that was your cue. There's a certain energy surging through your veins as you practically pry Haewon from the wall. Legs still hooked around your waist, arms thrown over your shoulders, forehead to forehead. With your own strength and aid from gravity, she sinks.

As does your cock. Inside her warm cunt. Wrapped in the tightness, feeling her warmth surround you. Haewon leans her head back, pressing her head against the wall and exposing her neck to you, which you use as an invitation to assault with your tongue and your teeth. You start slowly thrusting upwards into her, forcing small thrusts, each one pushing your body up onto the tips of your toes before settling again. Each forward push causing her body to tense, back arching into your chest.

"G-g-god," is about all you get from Haewon while her face rolls forward, eyelids fluttering open for a moment. Hair now a tangled mess across her face, her lips remain parted. The breaths she lets out through them are hot, dry, and barely audible.

Rather than allow the wave of pleasure rolling down her body to subside, you pick up the pace. Feet almost stomping up into her now. Her head is empty, save for a few select words; my cunt, your dick, so big, fuck me, and finally, the all-too-expected, why'd you stop?

While moments before you were doing all the work and she was little more than a fleshlight hooked on your waist, you want more. Re-situating yourself, slipping an arm under her left leg, so it lays in the crux of your elbow. And the same with the right. It doesn't take long to step away from the wall, the added support from your arms ensuring she doesn't fall to the floor. But now the power really is in your hands and you pivot the two of you around.

On this edge, Haewon is both your burden and your liberation. Feet adjusting on the floor and back sliding against the slick tiles, an arm on the sink and a hand digging itself against your shoulder. Dangling from your lap, thrusting wildly against her pussy. Squeezing your cock.

A silent taunt, a threat, a promise.

Any of the above, or all of the above. It doesn't matter which one, what matters is how you feel.

Feeling words can't describe—well, words probably can, but you're incapable of stringing them together right now. With a grip like steel on the soft padding of her ass, you whisper, "gonna make you cum."

"I can't—not like this."

You don't take the bait. You never did, and you never will. Always something she needs, always something you have to put in or give up. Fuck that. It's your time to put all the effort in and pull some satisfaction out of her.

"Like this," you say sternly and she shoots you a look and you fire one right back.

Haewon bites her lip, then her body slackens, her arms relax, and the tension dissipates. A nod for you to proceed as you wish. Which you will.

You grip her, hands clasped behind her back. Haewon reaches out, a hand on the sink, a forearm on the dryer. It's far from elegant but it's damn sure effective as you redden her thighs with the rhythmic slap of your hips.

Her moans are stifled by the drool pooling down her chin as her eyes roll backwards. Climactic gurgles and pained breaths fill the room, which is only half covered by the rush of water from the sink's faucet. Somehow, someway, Haewon's helplessly suspended foot had hit it. Not that either of you care.

"Cum for me." Your hips show her no mercy as you slow and hold each thrust with deliberate depth. With every inch you have to offer penetrating her sweet cunt as your final bid to achieve victory in this battle of wills.

"Ugh! Fuck!"

You didn't think she could tighten any more, but she does. As a shudder washes down her body from head to toe, Haewon lets loose, coating your cock with fluid as she goes limp in your grasp. With her still in your arms, you sink, bringing her down with you. Your bare ass hits the tiled floor and it bucks your hips into her still-tense cunt. The friction of her hot, soaked inner walls rubbing up against your length causes a low groan to erupt from you.

There's a short span, a transient moment, where the two of you are just there. Quiet. Close. Eye-to-eye. Both are naked and one still coming down from a high while the other is still on the cusp of achieving it. Both are completely vulnerable, no cover or modesty. Just flesh and her impending words.

Your silence prompts her.

"W-what about you?"

"What about me?" You answer with a question, a smirk on your lips as you feel her loosening her tight grip on your cock.

"Ugh, do I have to tell you to cum?"

"Don't worry, Haewon." Your assurance has little weight behind it. It's a preface. A statement, yet unfinished. Your eyes stare longingly at her. A well-placed pause allows your mind to linger on the lusty gaze, parted lips, and complete ease with the proximity. It's a moment worth taking advantage of and savouring. And that's just what you do. You let time tick past a second. Another. Another. And then it's a sentence completed as you finish with the actual words, "I was going to cum whether you tell me or not."

Another sudden move. Pushing your thighs upward, so her rear is supported, and a firm grip on her shoulders pulls her face towards yours. She gets it. Or at least she complies enough to lift herself a little and free your stiff cock. You hold her in a kiss as she takes hold of your cock. Haewon firmly squeezes you in her palm and begins to stroke, almost clinically as she concentrates fully. Her wetness lubricated your shaft. She doesn't linger. Her touch is swift and not lacking in determination or precision. You're all hers, and you have been this whole time.

The truth is simple enough; the act is no different from the countless times you've thought about her after last time, and how many times you've helped yourself to sweet thoughts. It's all the same. She's a blurry mess in your memories; all of the little moments when she lingered in your mind. And it's all the same now. So easy, the motions her fingers force you through. Her touch is unchanging and full of vigour. You're more than confident she would be the same, regardless of what position or state the two of you were in. It's perfect and she's perfect and—

"Fuck," you curse under your breath, so taken aback by what just happened. It took over you, gripping every fibre of your being in a way that even now, it feels foreign and a little numbing. Your chest rises and falls, desperately trying to get as much air into your lungs.

Haewon flashes a smile, she knew. How could she not know? That's why it wasn't necessary to utter the word. Haewon lets herself sink back, lying between your legs. You look down at her. That flushed and sticky face. The tangled locks of her hair. The playful tongue perched on her lower lips and the grin behind it. Those eyes full of satisfaction observing her own body and the mess you made on her stomach.

That fucking smile.

She's all yours, and she has been this whole time.

***

You knew they were talking about it. Everyone in the whole damn building knew and it had only been a week.

The whispers of everyone you walked past tainted your ears. The eyes of passers-by and the stifled giggles of the stationary huddles. Word got out somehow and it was the next big thing. Sure it would pass in a week, but for now its was your name and Haewon's on everyone's lips.

If only they knew. If only they knew that right now you were heading to the locked library that Haewon had stolen the key for so you could fuck each other senseless while you skipped a class. Then they would really have something to talk about. Maybe she was the bad influence and not you. Or maybe you were a bad influence too.

Or maybe you were a good influence. That's the one that appealed to you. You have to admit, you were more attentive now. You found her more beautiful now than you had previously. You really did have an attraction. An affinity with her. It wasn't purely physical and that had to mean something. You didn't plan for this, but you're in it now.

That's the thing about trouble. You don’t look for it. It finds you. 

[buckysgrace]

Bad Rotation

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Flufftober 2024

CW: Drugs (weed)

Your plans with Steve get ruined when the kids need assistance.

Your Halloween plans did not go according to plan. Not that there was a strict plan to begin with, but it did involve spending the night with Steve. Alone. Just time for the two of you to linger with one another.

It did not involve babysitting four teenagers. Worse than that, four intoxicated teenagers. Max, Lucas, Dustin and Mike sat on various spots in your living room, lounging about and staring up at the fake stars that Steve had pinned to the ceiling for you. According to them, Jonathan was already taking care of Will and El. At least you hoped that was the truth. 

“You let him get drunk?” Steve asked once he walked into the room again, carrying four different glasses of water. He promptly set them down, looking more than disappointed. 

“No,” Dustin said as he furrowed his eyebrows together, a lazy grin spreading on his lips, “High.” He giggled a second later, making the other three join in. Mike seemed to be worse than everyone else, his eyes wide as he continued to stare up at the ceiling. 

“High?” Steve asked, eyes widening as his lips parted in shock. You reached forward to give his hand a little squeeze, knowing it must be hard for him to hear. 

“We shared a brownie.” Max spoke up, waving her hand in the air like it was no big deal. She stopped, turning it over so she could stare at her palm. 

“Or three.” Lucas confirmed a second later, being the only one to lay on his stomach. He kept drifting his fingers across one of the fuzzy blankets you had given them. 

“Who gave you brownies?” You asked as you tilted your head, amused by the way Steve placed his large hands over his hips. You weren’t sure if he was meaning to, but he looked like a very stern parent at the moment. His education courses must finally be taking off. 

“Are you really asking that?” Lucas asked, eyebrows raised as he stared at you. He narrowed his eyes, leaning forward to rub his fingers across your socks. He dropped his mouth in surprise, apparently liking the feeling. 

“Jesus Christ,” He huffed, “You guys can’t go home like this.” He said, gesturing towards all of them. Mike still seemed to be in a different universe, meanwhile Max was still inspecting the lines on her palm. Lucas continued to brush his fingers across your sock, like he was collecting the lint from it. 

“Precisely.” Dustin said, snapping his fingers before he realized he was doing it in the wrong direction. He turned slowly, struggling to make it up onto his side before he pointed at Steve lazily. 

“No,” He shook his head, “No way. I can’t watch you all night. I have plans.” He replied quickly, slowly turning his hands towards you. You laughed at his words, but you were sure that he was tired of being around kids all the time. Technically, all of the kids were teenagers now. Which seemed to be much worse for him. 

“Steve,” You smiled sweetly as you squeezed his shoulders, “They need someone to watch them for a few hours.” You gave his hand a little squeeze, trying to reassure him that you were fine with it. At least you didn’t have to worry about trick or treaters. They had already begun to eat all of your candy. 

“Yeah, Stevie.” Mike mocked, speaking up suddenly and fluttering his eyelashes about. Steve scoffed. 

“Another word from you, Wheeler and you can tell your sister what you’ve done.” He warned, pointing his finger at him in a warning manner. 

“That’s low.” Dustin scoffed, looking offended at the mere thought. Lucas rolled onto his back once again. 

“Steve’s got his panties in a twist.” Lucas giggled as he fell back, making the other three giggle along. Your own smile pressed to your lips as you recalled how funny everything could be when you were high. Especially your first time. 

“Panties,” Max laughed, “Steve wears panties.” She pointed out him, making him gasp in horror. 

“I do not wear panties,” He huffed, cheeks turning the softest shade of pink, “Don’t you have school tomorrow?” He asked seriously, crossing his arms over his chest as he sat down next to you. You gave his knee a reassuring squeeze. 

“Tomorrow is Sunday,” Max corrected, “God, you only graduated two years ago. You’re not that old yet.” She pointed out, making him continue to pout in his spot. 

“It’s alright,” You laughed as you tapped Steve’s arm softly, “They’ll probably pass out in a few hours.” You mumbled underneath your breath, letting the four teens fall into a conversation as you let him curl up to your side. 

“Then they should call their parents and let them know.” He grumbled, resting his chin on your shoulder and sighing deeply. 

“Do you trust them to call their parents in this state?” You asked him seriously, knowing that your parents would’ve been pissed. Furious. 

“My mom thinks I’m with El,” Max stated in a matter of fact way, “And Dustin and Lucas are over at Mike’s. It’s all figured out.” She explained their plan, listing it off of her fingers as she spoke. 

“Uh huh,” Steve flicked his tongue out against his bottom lip, nodding his head as he rested his hands on his hips, “I’m sure it’s that simple.” He stated dryly, pulling his foot away as she tried to grab a hold of his socks this time. 

“Do you have any snacks?” Mike asked as he sat up on his elbows, jaw dropping as he looked at the empty candy wrappers across your once clean table. You could deal with that. You just hoped that none of them got sick. 

“What do you want?” He replied, sighing deeply as his rugged edges slipped away. You squeezed his leg again, glad that he was so kind and sweet. Especially with them. 

Bags of popcorn and pop tarts were passed around and around, followed by the occasional sip from the same bottle of Coke. You supposed it was good that they were at least staying hydrated in some manner. 

“I’m so tired,” Lucas kept rambling, his eyes tightly shut as he wiggled the blanket up closer to his chin, “But my mind won’t stop.” He complained, shifting once again. The four of them were lying in different directions on the floor, deciding that they wanted to lay and watch a movie rather than take the bedroom. Which Steve seemed happy with. 

“It’s like buzzing.” Max agreed as she spoke with her eyes shut as well, her features relaxed like she was seconds from passing out. Steve sighed deeply, turning the volume on the TV up. 

“Have you ever thought about just-,” Dustin paused for a long moment, “I don’t know.” He said before the four of them started to cackle again. You shook your head, still a little amused. 

“They’re going to be like this all night.” He mumbled to you, allowing you to run your fingers through his hair. He seemed to enjoy it, and you liked how it felt against your fingers. 

“You can go to bed.” Mike sassed back, wiggling his hands from underneath the blanket so he could flip you two off. 

“I can call your sister.” Steve threatened again, making the other boy drop his hand quickly. 

“I’ll go to bed.” He stated breezily, remaining quiet for the next few minutes. All of them were. You leaned forward for a second, confirming that they had finally passed out. Just like children at a daycare. 

“Guess you’re never off duty,” You teased Steve as you held onto his arm, drifting your eyes back towards the TV, “I don’t mind.” You told him seriously, hoping that he really didn’t think your night had been ruined. You liked spending time with him, no matter what it involved. 

“Sorry about all of this.” He mumbled, apparently not catching that last part as he traced his finger across the lines on your palm. You smiled towards him. 

“S’alright,” You promised him, nudging your shoulder against his, “I’m glad they trusted you enough to call.” You glanced at them all again, wondering what would’ve happened if Steve didn’t pick up the phone. Probably nothing bad, but you just couldn’t ever be sure. 

“They’re like giant toddlers,” He huffed, “Giant misbehaved toddlers.” He laughed a second later, giving your knuckles a little kiss. 

“I’m sure you never did anything like this.” You replied as you cocked your eyebrows, knowing that you had heard stories. From him and others. You had done things too. It wasn’t that big of a deal. 

“No,” He said as he pressed his lips into a little frown, “I did a lot worse.” He admitted, turning towards you and laughing. You could definitely believe that. 

“See,” You smiled as you squeezed his knee, “They’re lucky to have someone that they can trust.” You promised. 

“Yeah, well-,” He paused for a moment, genuinely looking flattered, “They’re doing our dirty dishes when they wake up. That’s the least they can do for ruining my night.” 

[lipglossanon]

Day 6

Kink: Biting/Marking

Pairing: Real bro!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, incest, bro x sis incest, jealous reader, arguing, dirty talk, slightly mean Leon, biting, unprotected sex, creampie

not proofread

You’re not even sure how it started but by the time midnight rolls around, your apartment is packed to the brim with random people—an impromptu Halloween party that you had no hand in creating. Leon had a few buddies over for drinks and now a few hours later, you’re elbowing costumed people out of your way to get to the kitchen. You want to pull your hair out, disliking so many strangers in your personal space. 

And the fucking cherry on top, you think sourily, is some girl hanging all over Leon. She showed up with Chris, maybe Krauser, you can’t really remember, but she’s been all over your brother ever since she stepped through the door. She’s dressed like a slutty nurse cause she’s so original. You glare over at Chris and Krauser just for good measure, but neither of them notice you in favor of arguing with each other over…

You frown and see an empty beer bottle between them. Are they..?

You fight your way back through the crowd to get closer to them. 

“What? Scared you’ll like it, Redfield?”

“No,” you see Chris roll his eyes, “I just don’t wanna make anyone uncomfortable.”

“If they agree to play then they know what they’re getting into,” the blonde grabs the bottle, “and if they don’t like it, they can fuck off.”

Krauser turns and you catch his smirk before he raises his voice to call out, “We’re playing spin the bottle!”

The girl next to Leon cheers and tugs him over to the two burly men on the sofa. A few more people join their group and you hang back, wanting to join but feeling disgust at kissing anyone not Leon (which would disgust everyone else). He glances around and finds you, hovering on the other side of the room. 

You narrow your eyes at him and he shrugs, tilting his head to the group with a look that says ‘what am I supposed to do?’.

The circle moves through people pretty quick, but when it gets to the girl making eyes at Leon, she spins the bottle with a weird little wobble that you’re 100% is on purpose to slowly rotate back to her and stop on Leon who’s seated to her left. 

“Seven minutes in heaven for the lucky couple!” Chris calls out with a wink to the two, confirming he must’ve brought the girl and is now number one on your shit list. 

The girl grabs Leon’s bicep and tugs him over to his closed bedroom door. He doesn’t even look back at you and your chest feels hollow. Tears sting your eyes, but you blink quickly to stop them from falling. You slip on your shoes and grab your keys, leaving the apartment. If he wants to make you feel stupid well he can just go fuck himself. 

You head outside, and find a nearby bench to wallow. The chilly October night seeps into your skin as you breathe in deep. You understand the position you’re both in, Leon can’t exactly come out and say he’s fucking his sister. Well, he could, but it wouldn’t end well for either of you. Sighing, you lean back and gaze unseeing at the light polluted sky. 

Tears slip from the corners of your eyes and drip down your temples into your hairline. You bring your legs up onto the bench and wrap your arms around your knees, burying your face against them so you can cry quietly. You know you have to go back, but it makes you sick to your stomach to go back and see either of them mussed from their make out. Or worse, they’re still locked up in his room. 

You press the heels of your palms against your eyes, wishing to scrub that thought from your brain. 

“You good?”

You jump, hands dropping from your face to look up at the person who spoke. Leon stands there, a frown pinching his brows together. 

“Have you been crying? Who the fuck made you cry?” He reaches forward to brush his hand across your cheek but you yank your head away. 

“How was your little make out?” You snipe back, rubbing the tears away with the sleeve of your jacket. 

“Ahh,” he sighs and sits down next to you, too close but not close enough. “Well, you’ll be happy to know, Chloe was extremely disappointed.”

“I don’t give a fuck about Chloe,” you say her name higher, laced with condescension. 

He bumps your shoulder, “I didn’t do anything with her. Said I had a girlfriend. She stormed out and found someone else.”

You squint at him, eyes roving over his face, “Hmm.”

“I tell you I didn’t cheat and all you do is make a noise? You’re such a bitch,” he scoffs, pinching your thigh. 

“Fuck you,” you hiss slapping his arm, “I don’t fucking hang all over some slag all night and then get offended when assumptions are made.”

“Fuck you for not trusting me,” he growls back, catching your hands before you can slap at him again, “think I want some fucking easy hole when I have your hot little cunt waiting and willing for me anytime I want? Use your fucking brain.”

You try to pull out from his grip but he tightens his hold on your wrists, pinching the skin, “Let go you asshole.”

“I don’t think I will,” he curls his lip, “seems you need a lesson in gratitude.”

“Gratitude?” You sputter out a laugh, “you’re so fucking full of yourself. God, you get on my nerves.”

“Feelings mutual, little sis,” he murmurs against your ear and the dough of your thighs press together. 

“Now, we’re going up to the apartment and kicking everyone out,” he makes eye contact with you, “and then I’m going to fuck you so good you won’t be able to walk.”

Your clit throbs at the heated words. He grins and tugs you up off the bench, pulling you back inside and all the way back to the apartment. Dropping your wrists, he opens the door and pushes you inside. There’s still a handful of people milling around, drinking and talking over the music. 

Leon walks over to the stereo and shuts it off. He loudly claps his hands twice. 

“It’s been fun, but it’s over. Get your shit and get the fuck out,” he calls out to everyone. 

You roll your eyes and shake your head, but a smile still spreads across your face as everyone packs up and makes their way out. No one ever said Leon wasn’t blunt. As soon as the last person leaves, he walks through the apartment to double check. Once the coast is clear, he’s crowding your personal space. 

“Now, little sis, how should you show me how grateful you are,” he dips forward and kisses your neck. 

He grabs your arm and drags you to his room, leaving the door open now that the apartment’s empty. Shoving you down onto his bed, he wastes no time in yanking your clothes off until you’re completely naked. 

“You’re wet,” he laughs. “Fucking slut.”

“Shut up,” you shoot back, body hot as he smirks at you.  

Kneeling on the edge of the bed, he runs his hands up your legs to your hips.  

“Let me lick that clit, baby sis,” he murmurs, dropping kisses across your thighs, “let me lick that swollen little bud til you're creaming my tongue.”

“Fuck,” you whine, high and throaty, “please, Leon, want your mouth on my pussy.”

He groans and sloppily kisses your slit, lips pulling away with a sheen of slick coating them like gloss. 

“So messy, baby,” he presses your thighs open wide, palms hot against your skin.

“Such a slippery,” he kisses your pussy lips, “fat,” another kiss, “slutty,” he gently nips your pudgy clit, “cunt.”

He slaps his palm down over your mound, making your hips jump, “And it’s all mine. Isn’t that right? This pussy is for big brother to use when he wants.”

“Yes, yes,” you gasp, thighs trembling under his hands. “S’all yours, I promise. Please, lick me, big brother. I need it.”

“Aw, you need it?” He mocks, blowing cool air across your soaked cunt. “My sis and her pretty pussy need me to lick her all up?”

Huffing in frustration, you dig your toes into his side, “Eat me out or fuck me, I’m not laying here all night being teased.”

He narrows his eyes, tossing his hair to move his fringe out of his line of vision, “Are you getting bratty with me?”

Matching his tone, you smile sweetly, “It’s not bratty when you’re being an asshole, big brother.”

He growls and yanks your hips down as he drops to his knees next to the mattress. 

“I’m gonna eat this bratty pussy until you’re screaming my name,” he slaps your mound and you whine. “Gonna stay here all night, tongue buried in your tight hole til you squirt all over me.”

“Fuck,” you moan, hands reaching down to tangle in his sandy blonde hair, “please.”

“That what you need, sis? Need me to show her who’s in charge?”

“Yes, yes,” you arch your hips up, trying to entice him more, “wanna cum all over your face.” 

“God, gonna teach this bratty pussy a lesson,” he promises before burying his face in your cunt. 

You lose complete track of time as Leon makes you cum on his tongue over and over and over; pushing him away does nothing; whining about being sensitive gets you nowhere. You just lay there and take it as your brother licks your cunt until you’re gushing. 

“Thatta girl,” he coos mockingly, face soaked in your slick and cum. “Knew I could get you to do it.”

“Fuck off,” your voice cracks, tear tracks decorating your cheeks. “I-I can’t keep going.”

“Yes you can,” he finally pulls away from your swollen and sensitive cunt. He sheds the rest of his clothes until he’s fully nude. 

Climbing over your body, he drags his cock across your pussy lips making your hips jolt at the too much sensation. 

“Leon,” you whimper. “Please.”

“Nuh uh,” he clicks his tongue. “This bratty pussy needs to learn her place, little sis.”

Shivering, you don’t stop him as Leon lines up and presses his leaking cock into your sensitive hole. Both of you moan as he bottoms out, pelvis pressing down on your pudgy clit. 

“Best fucking pussy,” he groans, pulling out to slam back in, dick bullying into your swollen fluttering walls. “Goddamn, so fucking tight. My little sister’s hole just loves big brother’s dick so much.”

You choke out a whine, nails scoring a hot trail down his back. Leon retaliates by sinking his teeth into your neck, too high to hide with anything except a turtleneck. 

“Your g’nna leave a mark,” you slur out, fingers digging into his shoulder blades.

“Oh, too bad,” he simpers. “Maybe you’ll think twice about being a fucking baby.”

He bites and sucks a collar around your neck, worrying the skin until it stings. In a couple of spots, he bites too hard and blood drips down your throat. Groaning, he laps it up, hips rabbiting against yours as he roughly fucks you into the mattress. With every thrust, he grinds against your fat slippery clit until he’s pulling another orgasm from your exhausted body. 

“Fuck, that’s—god, you’re gonna make me bust a nut, too fucking tight,” he growls, raising up to piston his cock in and out of your throbbing pussy. “Take it, take it, take it, slutty fucking—“

His mutterings cut off as he groans, hips pumping his cock into your drooling cunt as he cums, walls milking him to shoot hot rope after rope of cum until it drips from your stuffed hole. 

After a minute or two, he finally pulls out with a sigh, flopping down onto the bed next to you. Too tired to move, you raise your hand up to touch his shoulder. 

“We’re a mess,” you hum. 

“I’ll clean us up once I can feel my legs,” comes his muffled voice near your head.

You laugh before cringing, feeling his cum leak from your pussy. 

“Yuck, sooner the better, please.”

He shifts and raises up over you, blue eyes searching your face, “We good?”

You smile and lift your neck up to kiss his nose, “We’re good.”

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

Leonardo's First Love—Splinter's Talk

When Leo realized his heart was being divided, he felt afraid. 

His attention had always been captured by his family and his mission—he knew what it was like to love them. But never had he thought his love was going to be snatched up, split, and taken almost wholly by someone of the race that thought they were monsters. 

When Leo noticed the pull towards something else, something new, he pushed himself away. 

He found himself tonight an observer to soft skin, a vulnerable but inviting form that seemed to master existing as is without striving for status-quo. And it was entrancing, desirable; sparked sensations in him he had put under wraps years ago as a teen. Useless instinct. Basic drive. He had more to expect from the world, and expected more, he did…but every night, went back to the same old scenario. Her. 

"Get out of my head," he groaned as he laid up in the quiet lair when he was supposed to be resting, lost in thought. Smooth curves. A small stature against his. Hands, running down—he paused. Somewhere in the middle of a fantasy, he'd heard the words "I love you". That brought him back to the fact that it wasn't just desire. For that there were things he felt embarrassed to indulge in sometimes; but it didn't help anymore. Because those people in the screens, the words on a page of an R-rated book, were not her. Couldn't be, even if he tried. He wanted to know for just a moment what it was like to be human. To have that possibility of love there for the taking. And to never go for it, with all the permission those men had just for being human, he was disgusted. Feeling bitter over that fact sent his mind into overdrive—because he would feel even worse if some man did go for it with her. Like a walking contradiction, he was fighting with himself every step of the way. From she should stay away, to she should be with me. 

He got up to practice some forms. Maybe do maintenance on his flexibility. Sharpen his katanas. Anything to stop thinking and start doing. Somewhere during his steady training, he heard Master Splinter enter. 

"What is the matter, my son?" asked Splinter. He always knew even when his more stoic child Leonardo was troubled. 

"What's the matter? Nothing's the matter. I'm fine," Leo replied, balancing on one leg. "[Y/N] should head home, it's almost time for patrol." 

Splinter sat cross-legged down on a cushion with a slight smile. "So quick to mention [Y/N], even when you're preoccupied," he commented, "I told her she was welcome to stay whenever she liked. To repay for her generosity." That generosity being, stocking their fridge with things they couldn't get a hold of, to help out the heroes of New York. Something along the lines of making sure they were eating right for all they did. 

Leo paused, "What? I'm not quick, I was just saying…Splinter, it's weird having someone around now." 

"Does not have to be 'weird'," Splinter said. Leo felt his black eyes on him even when turned around. He was flustered, still going through the smooth motions of his kata. "Tell me what is really going on, Leonardo. I know you have something on your mind." 

Giving up his rotations, Leo slumped a little as he stepped off of the pedestal, setting his katanas down as he faced his father. "I don't know what's up with me, Master. I just don't get it." 

Splinter gave a knowing hum. Still, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It seems like you've been quite bothered over [Y/N], my son."

He knew he couldn't hide anything from Splinter. There was no point in deflecting longer; he was only embarrassing himself. Finally, he admitted, "I can't…you know the way it is, Master, it'll never work. She's cool with us, but she's a human. And I'm a mutant." He sat down before his father on a plain mat. 

"Yes, a very beautiful human, too," the old rat mused, gently stroking the longer hairs of his chin. Leo flinched and opened his mouth to switch the focus of the conversation, but Splinter beat him to it. "Surely a woman like that would not ever spend money on, cook for, and give quite undivided attention to such a mutant when he's training. You are correct, my son, it's over." 

Leo's face flushed cold, blood rushing to his cheeks as he listened to his father. "Master Splinter! I'm being serious!" he fussed as he leaned forward onto his palms. "I don't know what to do, I—" 

"—want to stop feeling this way, yes, I know," Splinter finished for him. "Oh, young love." 

It was quiet for more than a moment. Leo's face softened, his blue eyes studying his father's as he gave Leo a look of acknowledgement. He gathered the courage stuck in his gut fluttering about his stomach, mind bouncing between [Y/N] and what his dad was saying. "I made myself stop thinking about love and stuff a long time ago. Mikey's always going on about it. I know Raph wants to be accepted more than anything, and Donnie, he's got his secrets. I'm supposed to be the example. I was supposed to show them we can live and not care. That our lives are worthwhile even without humans being involved. But now…" 

Splinter raised a brow at him. 

"I'm in love," Leo said. "And—and want it so badly." 

Splinter reached forward to place a hand on his shoulder. As soon as [Y/N] had entered their lives, he knew this day was going to come for one of his sons. It was inevitable, he thought. "Welcome to manhood, my son, this was fated to happen at some point. I've only been waiting since she arrived." 

Leo felt exposed. He felt unsure, and that uncertainty was driving him insane. He was always steadfast in his approach. Knowing he was a fish out of water in this situation disarmed him. 

"Master Splinter, what do I do? Tell me." 

Splinter's idle smile left as the tone turned  more serious suddenly, adding to Leo's growing discomfort. "You must understand that having [Y/N] means that your burden will grow. Not only will it be your brothers you will have to protect, but her, as well. It is your job to defend her from anything that could put her in harm's way. She is not built to fight like you. She is vulnerable, and being affiliated to us will only add to the dangers already present in this world. That is what you must come to terms with. But you must not ignore your heart, either." 

Having another body to look after. He contemplated that before answering. When he thought about defending her, it did not feel like an added chore. He wanted to. What was he so strong for if not to also protect the woman he loved? And what he had said before…could she have felt the same way? 

"You've prepared me more than enough to be able to handle another person, Master." 

He wanted nothing more than to hold her. That was something he could not deny. He enjoyed being an observer to a way of life so different from his; femininity, not always being the one taking care of others. He loved his family, but at times, leading was tiring. He wanted to forget about it for just a little bit, maybe lay down, be with someone he didn't have to "manage".

Splinter would have been lying to have said he wasn't surprised at all. But he knew his sons, inside and out—Leonardo had iron will. 

"It is your choice, Leonardo," Splinter said amiably. 

His choice? He wanted to laugh. There almost wasn't a choice. He felt like every road led back to her. It was either face his fears, or stay awake every night plagued with the possibilities of what could be. And he didn't handle fear well. It twisted his stomach and ate him up inside when he felt uncertain, afraid. God, one word is all I need from her. Just one "yes". One touch. One kiss.  He wanted to feel her hands explore his plastron, run along the edge of his shell. Love what made him, him. 

Overcoming the hesitance he felt, he let out a deep breath, committing to a final answer. " I don't know how, but...I want to try. I can't let this go. There has to be a reason all of this happened. If everything that's happened to us up until now has been destiny...I can believe it for this, too. Thank you, master."

Just felt like writing our leader in blue having a talk with his father 😌 Going to make this a little mini series for all the boys!

[boundinparchment]

Just For You

Modern AU, Pâtissier Sunday notices his favorite customer looking a little worse for wear. He has a special delicacy just for you. And you’re a little too smooth in return.

Sunday/Gender-neutral reader.

(This might be an ongoing AU of one-shots; in which Sunday left his position to pursue other ways of providing joy through his creativity. This is fluffy and silly. In no way really connected to canon.)

On AO3 here. Kudos, reblogs, and comments appreciated!

Divider by cafekitsune

You came into his shop one day with stiff shoulders and a clenched jaw, the tension barely perceptible to the customers in line before you. How unfortunate.

Most of your visits were full of wide eyes searching for his latest creations, a smile forming when you found your target for the week, always determined to try something new. Little did you know that it was because of your adventurous nature that he tried to keep rotations of exciting flavor combinations.

What could possibly have such stress radiating off of you in palpable waves?

He would have to remedy that somehow, Sunday mused as he weighed a box of tiny chocolate mousse cups. Thankfully, today was a bit slow. He would have time to dedicate to you.

By the time you reached the counter, your jaw seemed a little looser when you greeted him, at least. A small victory.

“What would you like this week? I tried my hand at a few fun little creatures.”

The Trailblazer recently recounted their excitement on the Herta Space Station and the cat debacle that occurred. He’d felt compelled to attempt tiny cake pops in the shape of the cat cakes described. They were a little unorthodox texture-wise but seemed to do quite well with some children.

Up close, he could see the dark circles peeking through despite your attempts to cover them. You couldn’t seem to keep eye contact, either; in fact, when you attempted a smile, your eyes looked a little glassy, as if…

He remembered those days. Where the cup you held kept overflowing despite trying your best to empty it. One more ask and your cup might just shatter.

No, he wouldn’t have that. He didn’t leave the Family and set out making desserts that made people smile only for tears to spill in his shop. He might not have been able to solve every problem or take away the unjust suffering of existence, Sunday knew well by now. But he could provide a moment of solace, unique and magical…

Sunday gave you a soft smile in return. He tried to keep his wings from fluttering as he thought about the box he set aside in the fridge that morning, just for you. Perfect.

“I know just the thing. Wait here.”

“No, Sunday, I’ll just—“

He turned on his heel before he reached the swinging door. “I must insist. In fact, it would make my day to share this secret with my favorite customer.”

The words spilled out before he could stop them and he turned, stepping into the kitchen just as heat began to creep up your neck. Suddenly, the chilled kitchen felt a little too warm for his liking; a glance at the thermostat as he passed told him it was functional.

Goodness. Acting like a schoolboy.

The chastisement did little to stop his heart from hammering when he opened the fridge and checked the box, finding it perfectly undisturbed. Your favorite type of chocolate, mixed with rose water and a type of berry he’s never worked with before. Entirely new, a prototype to be refined.

Before he left the kitchen, Sunday stopped at the small station set up for boxing and wrapping. He grabbed a ribbon that reminded him of your eyes and made quick work of a bow, perfectly centered.

He returned to the front of the shop and presented the small box from the tips of his fingers. An inhale snagged in his lungs as your fingers brushed his when you took the box. You cradled it close, lips parted in a question.

“How much do I owe you?” you asked.

Nothing, he wanted to say. Your smile and your enthusiasm was always payment enough.

But whatever feelings he held wouldn’t cover overhead.

“My only ask is that you share your thoughts and tell me what would make the next batch better,” he replied.

He swallowed when he saw your eyes glint, the corners of your mouth twitching as the shadow of whatever held you down seemed to peel away. That was better. You looked a little more like yourself.

That creeping flush over your skin came back as you said, “It’s a date, then.”

Sunday’s composure remained intact until the door to the shop closed, the bell jingling happily. Reflectively, his wings folded inwards to cover his cheeks, his face growing warmer still.

He was going to have to come up with something extra special for your next visit.