#lmk know if you need things tagged idk really what to tag this as

[space-puppeteer]

sometimes you gotta draw the really fucked up lady who haunts your ocs nightmares

[coriander-candlesticks]

Introductions ✨✨

Hey! I'm Coriander. It's not what I go by in my other blogs on here but I want to keep things a bit more separate, at least at first. This is gonna be a long one (sorry) so I'm adding a cut.

I'm exploring Hellenic polytheism, and have only recently started, but it's something I've been considering, in a way, for over a year. I don't have a big, intense story that marks the beginning for me; I didn't necessarily feel a personal, spiritual connection to any of the deities from the time I was a young child in the way others describe, and I haven't had an intense experience that marked the beginning of my path.

I've always felt drawn to Greek mythology, though. I have a distinct memory of laying on my stomach on the floor of the school library in 3rd or 4th grade, reading a picture book about Hades and Persephone. It kept my attention the way others - even Egyptian mythology, another major interest - didn't. I, of course, had the classic queer kid experience of being super into the Percy Jackson series for a while, but my interest in it predated that. The specific deities I've been drawn to have changed somewhat as I've grown up, and they definitely shaped some of my interests. But delving into them again has helped me see connections that weren't explicitly connected to Greek mythology. I felt drawn to Athena growing up, for example, and my love of owls was definitely shaped by that. Even though that has settled into the background somewhat, that connection has persisted in things like my knitting and desires to dye yarn and learn how to weave (side note: I associate crochet more with Apollo, actually, despite it also being a fiber art). I felt connected to Artemis and Persephone as a kid, but that waned as I got older, discovered I was trans, and began my transition. I've felt connected to Hestia and her quiet hearth-keeping since I learned about her: I've always strived to make myself & my space safe and welcoming for others, and being told I succeeded in that is one of the best compliments I've received. But my interests in the morbid (ex Pompeii & the Paris catacombs), psychopomps, rocks & minerals, and keys weren't explicitly related to Hades. Some of the connections didn't click until I started to look into him more seriously about a year ago. I was an artist and had interests in writing, poetry, singing, and playing instruments long before it actually clicked that all of those fell into Apollo's domain, as I associated Athena far more with visual arts as a kid. I also didn't realize that he & Artemis cover diseases (another long-running interest) until very recently. The concept of xenia, too, was something I grew up with to some extent, even though no one called it that. My father modelled it to my siblings and I; I even learned about it within the context of ancient Greece at some point growing up and it stuck with me, despite not knowing the name.

I grew up Mormon, and was incredibly devout until college, when the pandemic forcibly separated me from that environment and I not only discovered that I was queer in several ways, but realized that the Church 1) wasn't safe to stay in and 2) wasn't actually true (which came later, when I started to get over my fear of reading "anti-Mormon literature"). During that period between those two realizations I got into tarot and using plants and crystals for their correspondences (two other interests growing up), as well as using rocks to ground myself. At that time, I considered myself a "liminal Mormon", and was reaching out to Heavenly Mother specifically via tarot. But as it set in that Mormonism specifically, and Christianity generally, wasn't for me, I got more and more interested in modern witchcraft separated from the belief system I was raised in.

It never quite felt right, though. The constant need for protections and doing something "the right way" lest things backfire and you invite the wrong thing into your home, or hurt yourself, or others, or or or, made my anxious & scrupulous brain go into overdrive. I wasn't even sure I believed in it spiritually, or if I was just interested in it from a mindfulness standpoint, and staring down the barrel of comically high piles of research without knowing where to start was exhausting. The concept of dual deities, the Divine Masculine and Divine Feminine, put a bad taste in my mouth (which bled over into Persephone for a while because she and Hades are often used to symbolize those archetypes- sorry Persephone). But, not wanting to listen too much to my discomfort (since part of it may have been, and probably was, prior conditioning), I pushed ahead and actually completed one ritual that had all of the steps - cleansing, representations of the four elements and directions, etc. - and was very carefully designed to leave room for growth and change. It represented the start of my path. I still have the jar I made during the ritual, though I'm still trying to figure out what to do with it.

Around that time, I was considering whether or not to work with deities- specifically Hades, as that was who I felt the most drawn to at the time. The idea interested me, but I wasn't sure if it was from an academic or spiritual angle. I'd really only seen deity work from a modern witchcraft/neo-pagan perspective which, again, didn't sit right with me. On top of that, I wasn't quite ready to let go of Christianity even though I already functionally had, and was terrified of doing something "wrong" and getting, for lack of a better term, sent to (figurative) hell. I decided to do a simple "yes/no" tarot pull and got about the clearest "no" you can get: a reversed Ace of Swords. So I decided to let it rest and that, if I ever felt drawn to it again, I could re-approach the topic.

So, for over a year, I didn't touch it. Continuing with witchcraft after the ritual didn't feel right, either, so my altar collected dust while I tried to sort out my spirituality (or lack thereof). I settled on "I don't know and that's okay" and left it at that, trusting that when the time came, and I had more energy and mental space, that I would be able to start looking into things again.

I never truly stopped thinking about the idea of deity work/worship, though. It was always in the back of my mind. I figured it was because of the way I was raised and tried to sever my idea of spirituality from how I was conditioned while I worked through my religious trauma, got on anxiety medication, and learned more about myself and how I interacted with the world (including that I have both ADHD and autism, something that surprised no one).

Recently I talked with a witchy friend about my thoughts on divinity and what is or isn't out there (neither of us were sure but we both felt like there was something), and that conversation gave me the button I needed to start looking into paganism again. I realized at work a week or two later that I could just look up the different paths of paganism (a term I'd recently heard that hadn't clicked before then) and see if there was one that did fit. The first site I found not only had a clear, concise explanation for belief systems I hadn't knowingly come across before, but it touched on Hellenic polytheism and gave a recommendation for someone to watch to learn more about it. And unlike the sharp knot in my chest that warned me away from attending BYU, and going on a mission, and delving further into modern witchcraft as I'd been introduced to it, learning about Hellenic polytheism felt right. It was heavy and grounding and like home. Many of the issues I'd had with other neo-pagan systems - the constant vigilance & protections & concerns over trickster spirits, for example - simply didn't exist there, or were approached very differently. I still had a mental block about it, though, and realized it was because of that tarot pull a year prior. So I did another one, and got a clear "Yes, jump right in. We're waiting for you". And that's where I've been since which, granted, hasn't been for very long. I've felt especially connected to Apollo and Aphrodite recently, who I believe reached out in a different tarot pull recently - using the same card, actually - which is interesting because while I've appreciated different ways Aphrodite has been depicted, I haven't felt very connected to her in a way I realized was her until recently. It makes sense, though- I got into my first relationship around the same time I did that ritual, and not only are we still together a year later, but a trinket I used to ground myself during those first few months is also pretty directly associated with her. I'm planning on adding it to her altar/shrine area as soon as I find it (it's also still amongst the moving wreckage).

But anyway, hi! If you read this far thank you for taking the time out of your day to do so. If anyone has recommendations for books or other educational resources, or discord servers/other online forum-esque communities, please feel free to share. I've been enjoying looking through the tags and getting a feel for the community here, too; hopefully I'm here to stay.

[princekirijo]

Morgana is such an interesting character to me purely because whenever I see him my instant reaction is torn between petting him or drop kicking him out a window

[siriuslylantsov]

drunken confessions

pairing: spencer reid x reader

description: you take care of a drunk spencer and inebriated, he happens to let certain things slip.

tags: fluff! alcohol consumption (on spencers part so a little ooc), jealous spencer, confession? sorta, dilaudid briefly mentioned, r and spencer sleep in the same bed.

a/n: idk how much i like this, i had this done and dusted months ago but i hated it and left it in my google docs... anw lmk what you think, happy reading!

wc: 1.9k

spencer reid doesn’t drink, or at least he limits himself to two glasses of wine or a beer. the numbing effect alcohol provides faintly reminds him of dilaudid, and that’s enough to keep him from indulging when he goes out for drinks with the team.

instead, he often plays designated driver, guiding an intoxicated penelope or derek to the passenger seat before taking the wheel himself. he doesn’t mind this role; while he isn’t fond of driving, he enjoys taking care of people, regardless of whether they remember to thank him later. plus, it gives him some incredible blackmail photos of derek passed out—ammunition, for whenever he needs it.

tonight is different though, the team is out for drinks, but you’re with him. scott, jerk, bitch boy, butt face–whatever his name is. you had declined, you never decline, saying that you and scott had plans. and in a desperate attempt to not think about you, he gave in. 

what's in his cup, he's not entirely sure off. penelope had handed it to him earlier, elated that he was joining them, and that he won't taste the alcohol. he stares at the blue fizzy drink in the cup, and although he likes how sweet it is, he could say with certainty that the taste was distinguishable. 

a hand slaps him on the back, “that's gonna give you the worst hangover, pretty boy,” derek says, arm now across spencer’s shoulders. “why’d you let penelope get you that?”

“because,” she interjects out of nowhere at the mention of her name, her own colourful drink in tow, “he doesn't like bitter.” she waves her hand dismissively, “now, leave him alone and go drink your scotch” she says, her face twisted in distaste. 

the two of them waddle off together, leaving spencer victim to his damn thoughts. what are you doing with scott? you should be with your friends instead. this is a time to unload and relax together, not be away with your ratty boyfriend. maybe if he could convince hotch to make these outings essential to team building, you’d be less likely to cancel-

no.

he is not doing this. he needs to not think.

he takes a long sip from his drink, swallowing fast so the taste doesn't linger. he works on it like this, long and fast, until he moves on to his second and third. it doesn't take long for him to get drunk, tolerance being next to nothing. 

-

the bar is dim and loud when you walk in, greeted with a whiff of something too strong when a stranger walks past you. you scan the place, looking for familiar faces. your fingers twitch nervously by your leg, you're not supposed to be here, or atleast thats what you told them. but you couldn't stand the eerie silence of your apartment any longer. your eyes screech to a halt when you spot the back of a head of curls you know oh so well. 

-

“hey.”

you slide into the booth beside him, and he freezes. where did you come from? 

“hi,” he says curtly. suddenly overly aware of himself, he straightens.

“what are you…” you trail off, eyebrows creased in amusement. he's so frigid, almost guilty. your breath catches and you lean in, nostrils flaring slightly, is that gin? you peer at him, confused. “have you been drinking?”

as if on instinct, spencer drags his drink further away from you on the table. your eyes dart down to the half-filled glass you had previously thought was a mocktail, and snap back to his.

“wait, really? you're drinking?” your tone a mix of surprise and concern.

“so what? i can drink, i’m allowed to drink,” he retorts, defensiveness bubbling up. 

taken aback, you look down for a moment, then meet his gaze again, seeing the apology in his eyes. “it's okay. you can do whatever you want. so… how are you feeling?”

a lazy smile creeps up as he leans his head back against the wall, “drunk.”

you chuckle, “it tends to work that way.” you pause, scrutinising him before repeating your question. “how are you feeling?”

your emphasis on the word eats at him, he knows you know why he doesn't drink. you'd been on the team only a year and a half, yet you knew him better than anyone. he concedes, incapable of not giving you what you want.

“good, fine, okay. i'm okay, i’m… okay,” he stammers, as if convincing himself along with you.

a quick flash of apprehension passes through your face, eyebrows momentarily creasing, “yeah?”

“yeah.” 

it's quiet for a minute, as quiet as it can get in a bar blasting 90s hip-hop. you're leaned against the heel of your hand, elbow to the table and body angled his way. he’s fidgeting with his fingers on his lap. you're trying to figure out what's different about tonight, itching to ask him but you don't. he’ll tell you, you hope. letting out a sigh, you cease your analysing.

before he can stop it, he starts speaking again, “so where's scott?” he drags out the ‘t’ sound at the end, words slurring together. 

you briefly tense, but he doesn't notice, circumstances rendering spencer’s profiling abilities inept. “um, he's home.” no he's not.

“didn't you guys have plans?”

“yeah,” you respond shortly.

“so why are you here?”

“plans ended early. i wanted to stop by.”

you hope your answers are enough for spencer, enough to stop the interrogation. you didn't want to tell him that you and scott had broken up, 2 weeks ago. by the way spencer’s attentions drifts to a piece of lint on your shoulder, you conclude that he's content. 

“are you not getting anything?” he asks, referring to your lack of a drink.

“nope, pulling a spencer tonight,” you chirp, he smiles. “want me to take you home? i brought my car.”

your face warms as he nods eagerly, taking a sip from his abandoned cup. you tuck a piece of hair behind his ear, determined to make sure he gets taken care of, and exhale slowly. your eyes glint mischievously, “okay, talk to me, pretty boy. i wanna see how much more unfiltered you get when you're drunk.”

-

the night goes on, you and spencer holed up in the corner, deep in conversation though it's more giggly than normal, very giggly. your teammates pass by the table now and then but get pulled back to the excitement eventually. spencer's expressive hands become languid, aimlessly waving around in the air as he rambles on about whatever comes to mind; the fibonacci sequence, the golden ratio, nautilus shells, speaking of shells, one time a hermit crab pinched me when i picked it up. the fact itself isn't funny but the way he raises both hands to imitate claws is and you start laughing again, and he realises he wants to make you laugh like that for the rest of his life. 

your eyes drift to the clock on the opposite wall, it's something past midnight though it's too far away to tell. you decide to call it. 

“c’mon, let's go.”

“but-” he protests.

“spencer,” you press, softly, “it's late, i wanna take you home.”

he puts up no further protests as he lets you drag him out of the bar, hands laced together, can he even complain when your hand feels like it does in his. you say goodbye to everyone as you leave, penelope pulling you in for a tight hug. the drive to spencer's apartment is fairly silent, the sleepiness taking over. he leans his head against the window, watching the streetlights, you steal a glance at him, smiling to yourself. 

you walk spencer upstairs, reaching your destination. you wait in his living room as he changes into his pyjamas, a matching dark blue set, and tucking him into bed when he's done. you brush a piece of hair away from his face again, his eyes are barely open. pleased with the state he’s in, you feel ready to leave. you begin to walk away when you feel his hand weakly grab onto your pinkie. 

“stay,” he whispers, more a breath than anything, he's afraid you don't hear it.

you don't. “what, baby?”

baby. he repeats himself, louder. “stay.”

“i gotta go home.”

“i want you to stay, it's not fair that he gets to have you all the time,” he slurs, the drowsiness makes him sound a little petulant but you find it endearing. 

“spence-” you lightly tug your finger from his grasp, though it would be easy to pull away, he's hardly holding on.

“no,” he retorts, firmly. “it’s late, you're not driving back this late.”

you contemplate for a moment before letting out a sigh, cementing your place for the night. he lets go and you walk over to his dresser, looking for something to wear. finally, you settle on a t- shirt that seems too big to be owned by him and a pair of shorts with drawstrings that you can adjust to fit you. you change in the adjoined bathroom, the getup has you smelling like him. 

“i hope you don't mind, i took your clothes,” you say, slipping under the covers after turning off the lights. you lay on your back, looking up at the ceiling.

spencer only hums in response as he turns to face you, legs curled up. he feels unbearably close but you know there's a good 2 feet between you two. you listen closely to his breathing, a slow inhale and an even slower exhale, you find yourself trying to sync your breaths with him. you think he’s sleeping, only you're proven wrong when he quietly says your name.

you take this as your sign to turn on your side too, facing him. “yeah?” you respond, maintaining the quiet.

“how come you can stay like this?”

“cause you asked me to.”

“i know i did but you have someone waiting for you at home.”

he waits expectantly, though it wasn't phrased as a question, it felt like one. why didn't you go home?

“we broke up,” you answer, meekly. “a few weeks ago.”

he immediately dreads his curiosity, opening his mouth to apologise but you stop him, “it's ok, i’m fine.”

his eyes search for yours in the darkness. he can’t find them. he settles for holding your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, you squeeze back. 

you're wrapped in silence for the umpteenth time that night, a comfortable weight that settles over you. there's something so impossibly easy being with spencer. the mattress dips as he scoots closer, knees brushing against yours. your thumb glides over his knuckles in slow passes.

“go to sleep,” you say softly, almost a coo. “i'll be here in the morning.”

spencer lets his eyes fall at your reassurance. the haziness drowns out any instinctual hesitation, maybe there's lingering alcohol too, which is why he feels compelled to say it.

“i love you,” he murmurs, a barely there whisper that hangs in the air around you. the words tug at your heartstrings, you feel a little pained by his drunken admission. you know it's anything but platonic when he says it, because he's not one to say it often. you’re silent for a minute, unsure of what to say. does he mean it?

“tell me again when you wake up,” you respond, though you're not sure whether he heard it before he dozed off.

you'll just have to wait.

part 2

reblogs and replies are appreciated! | m.list

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 8

it's the morning after. spencer reid suspects you’re left with some doubts after losing your virginity to him. he has to figure out why—which is hard when you're keeping secrets.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, blood related to losing virginity (dramatized for the drama duh), super vague allusions to the BAU being hungover, mild blasphemy if anyone even cares, pondering god bc am I really a fanfic writer if I don’t get a little religious w it, emily AND hotch are here and nobody knows why pls don't pay attention to that bc we are imagining like season 11/12 spencer and I'm inconsistent w who is unit chief in this series apparently, spencer slut lore, spencer emotional wounds lore, Spencer is a traumatic situationship survivor a/n: DADDYS HOMEEEEE (me and dybmn not spencer) anyway missed these little guys and am happy to be writing for them again!! idk what my upload schedule will becoming back to this but pls lmk what u think of this part, I have no idea how you will respond but I'm being brave and ily

Friday morning Spencer comes into the office fifteen minutes late (he tried his best), in yesterday’s suit (everything in his go-bag had been too wrinkled), hair messy (no doubt from your fingers), coffee cold (he’s exhausted) and overall, in an excellent mood.

The rest of the team isn’t faring quite as well—Spencer gathers they stayed at the bar celebrating Derek’s birthday a lot later than he had. It shows through sallow skin and dark circles and the grimaces he receives on the way to his desk that are probably supposed to approximate good morning’s. 

Honestly, he doesn’t mind the dull mood—he doesn’t need the teasing and the prying questions that would be sure to come if his co-workers were at peak performance and were able to put together his unusually perky demeanor and disheveled appearance. At least Prentiss doesn’t appear to be paying him any mind. She’s always the one who can read him like an open book and has no shame in doing so aloud. Echoes from years of, ‘so who was the lucky girl, last night, Reid?’ Still ring through his mind and it’s like he can feel her finger prodding at his side. 

The Emily of it all makes him smile, though the rest of the memory leaves a metal tang in his mouth. Back in those days, there were sometimes a lot of girls, but even then he was consciously aware he wasn’t necessarily doing something he enjoyed. He spent a lot of time, actually, staring at his bedroom ceiling, psychoanalyzing himself. Repetition compulsion. The insatiable desire to repeat or reenact emotionally painful experiences. Maybe he thought if he could teach himself to subsist off of emotionless hookups, he could in some way heal from his experience with Elle. Though, he’s hesitant to think of it now as healing—it’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing when a few nights after she said I don’t feel the same I’m sorry he opened up his front door for her. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing every time after that. So, maybe heal isn’t the right word, when one doesn’t have the right to be injured. Or when the injuries are, in a manner of speaking, self-inflicted. At the very least he could tell himself that this time around, meaningless sex was a choice he was making for himself. Spencer hates when things just happen to him. 

But you—you’re different. You were a complete surprise. At first, a cute and unexpected complication. After a few painful and short-lived attempts at real relationships, Spencer decided he was simply not to be trusted with emotional intimacy of any kind, including that which inevitably develops from physical intimacy, and would resign himself to a life of celibacy. He tried not to like you, but you were just so damn likable. Magnetic, to use a trite and perfectly honest turn of phrase. All that to say: he doesn’t regret you at all. There is no filter of putrid shame or anguish over his memories of last night. 

Just you. Perfect. Starlit. Glowing softly around the edges like you’re not even real. 

I love you I love you I love you. A hymn with no melody. You, always reminding him exactly why he is decidedly not a man of faith. At least, not in the typical sense of the word. 

How God became the idol and not Mary is lost on him. That’s why, Spencer supposes, tapping an eraser on his desk, marriage and sex were forbidden for so many ecclesiastics. After all, if they knew what it was to love a woman, specifically to love you, he doubts they’d feel like spending much time in the pulpit. Love. Humans had that long before they had any gods. It’s primeval. It’s the most natural manifestation of devotion and worship. It will always have come first. Isn’t it a better kind of religion when a man realizes he can kneel in front of a woman rather than an altar?

A heavy hand falling on his shoulder jolts him from his theological musings—which are in all practicality useless. What’s that saying about blasphemous thinking on the FBI’s dime? Right. There isn’t one. 

“I’m scared to ask,” Morgan says as Spencer jumps slightly in his chair. 

“What?” He mumbles, looking up from the document he’d only sort of been reading.

Morgan just looks at him, strong brows furrowed and a ditch between them, angles his head and glances to the side as if Spencer is missing the obvious. He almost follows Derek’s eye-line. When that doesn’t work, Derek just says your name. Like your status is somehow in question. 

“Did you two work things out, or not? It looked pretty bad when you guys were leaving last night.”

People often misunderstand an eidetic memory. It’s not like things can’t slip his mind—Spencer can actually be quite forgetful. It’s made worse by the fact that last night at the bar feels like months ago. For a moment, he has no idea what Derek is referring to. 

“Oh. Oh! Right, we—right. Yeah, we, uh—we worked it out.” Before Derek has a chance to read his face, no doubt as incriminating as his fumbled speech and an ill-timed throat clearing, he turns back to his paperwork. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her at the bar. I appreciate that.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Spencer’s lips twist as he can feel the incoming inappropriate comment. 

“Is that the same suit you were wearing last night?” Morgan quips, his wide grin audible. Spencer can practically hear the cartoon gleam of his friend’s bleached teeth. 

“No.”

“You dog.” Derek is still smiling as he claps Spencer’s shoulder again. “What did you say to her that worked so well?”

Spencer clears his throat again and tries to look extremely involved in logging onto his computer, speaking quickly as if he’s beyond disinterested and can’t wait for the exchange to be over. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m actually trying to work so if you wouldn’t mind going back to your desk that would be great.” 

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you work. But I see you, pretty boy.”

Spencer tries not to blush like a teenager as he refuses to look up. 

Naturally the rest of the day is a slow descent into dread and madness as all those good feelings with which Spencer had started his morning begin to harden into something much worse, chilled by your lack of response to the text he sent you earlier. Which was essentially a rehashing of the note he left on your bedside table. 

Maybe it was too much. It should’ve been one or the other, but not both. He’s overwhelmed you. 

Okay, so maybe this is what religion is for. A last ditch effort when you can’t talk to your girlfriend so you have to try talking to God. 

But Spencer knows you, and he knows something is wrong. You wouldn’t just ice him out so blatantly if everything was okay. He catches himself glancing up toward Hotch’s window to see if the blinds are drawn, and considers faking an illness to get out of work early and go check on you. But he powers through the remaining hour and a half that he is obligated to stay at work, he bounces a pencil between his fingers, drums at his desk, and gets nothing else done. As soon as 4:59 rolls around, he’s out. 

Spencer can hear shuffling on the other side of your door as he stands in the hallway. A pot clatters. The walls hum with the rush of water through the pipes to your sink. He knocks, relieved that you’re okay and at the same time struggling with that weight on his chest—something cold that leans over his shoulders and whispers into his ear—so she just didn’t want to talk to you. 

Suddenly all sound from inside your unit ceases. For a few long seconds, Spencer’s confusion only grows exponentially. 

“Who is it?” You finally call, voice wavering. Also odd. Usually you just open the door. 

“Um… Spencer?”

“As in my boyfriend Spencer?”

He frowns, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he tries to decipher your sudden paranoia. “I hope so?”

The click and jingle of several locks precipitates your much-anticipated reveal. 

“Come in,” you say breathlessly, more harried than usual and not giving him the tender greeting he’s selfishly become accustomed to—barely even giving him a second to look at you. But he steps inside, watching on in concern as you do up every single lock—the one on the knob, the deadbolt, even the chain. Is this really all because of his little comment last night about anyone being able to get in? He certainly hopes not. He didn’t mean to terrify you. 

When you finally turn, he takes stock of your appearance. Big hoodie, pajama pants patterned in little hearts. Hair pulled back hastily. Your skin is sort of dull where you normally glow. But you’re beautiful, like always. It always aches just a little bit to look at you. Spencer’s always been like that. Going breathless at a particularly good piece of art or pretty girl. Like yourself. Mostly you. 

You quickly turn to hurry back into the kitchen. “I was trying to make dinner, I—”

“Hold on,” he interrupts, stopping you with a hand on your stomach that is so non-demanding it’s really mostly a suggestion. He tries to clear his head, though you make it hard. “You didn’t talk to me all day. Not that you have to, but… I was worried.”

You glance at the floor and mumble, “I lost my phone,” with so much embarrassment he believes you’re telling the truth. “Did you, um—did you text me?”

Insecurity. Spencer knows well what it looks like on you. He softens. You weren’t ignoring him—but you’d been left in a vulnerable state without any ability to contact him or anyone. That couldn’t have been comfortable. 

“Of course I did.” He pauses to observe you. Still anxious. Still prepared to run at any second. Something, and he’s not sure what, did a number on you today. Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the anxiety of not having your phone. But he has to figure out what it is so he can undo it. “What? What’s wrong?”

He watches your breathing pause—watches your eyes gloss over with tears and a frown contort your features. Oh, god. He’s done something terribly wrong. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s done something wrong. 

“Can we sit down? I don’t feel very good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can. Whatever you need.”

You cast a baleful look at him and now he has to wonder what that means. Spencer sets his bag on a pulled out dining chair and follows you to the couch where you settle on opposite sides—you’re curled up in the far corner, hugging a pillow to your chest with your legs folded in front of you. Spencer’s heart is beating fast. He doesn’t know what’s going on with you and he can’t figure it out just by looking and you don’t seem eager to tell him. 

He’s exhausted all his typical ways of collecting information, and now he’s at a loss. 

Eventually, the anxiety comes bubbling up. 

“Please talk to me,” he pleads. And you do. Almost instantly, like he stepped on some sort of landmine. 

“I know it’s my own fault for not having my phone on me and not being able to see your texts, but it really sucks that I had to find out from my creepy neighbor that you snuck out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.”

The whiplash is so strong it’s almost a broken neck. Spencer reels, frowning deeply as he tries to process your impromptu speech, the sudden confrontation. What creepy neighbor?

“I… didn’t. I went to grab my stuff from the car around one, but I came right back. I left at 7:30. You don’t remember me saying goodbye?”

Your brow furrows, and your eyes dart over the design on the rug like you’re watching memories go by. He sees it in your eyes when you recall some hazy image of him holding your face, kissing your cheek more times than was necessary and whispering sweet things against your lips before he had to go. You shrink into the couch, clearly struggling under the combined weight of relief and embarrassment. 

“I forgot. I thought… he said…”

A moment passes and it’s clear you’ve abandoned the sentence. Spencer is concerned about this shadowy male figure who put malicious untruths into your head. He slides his hand under yours and twines your fingers together. Finally, finally you meet his gaze. 

“Someone made you believe I left without saying goodbye.”

And he almost wishes you weren’t looking at him as more tears pool before falling down your cheeks. You nod, and don’t make a sound. 

“No, honey. I didn’t do that. I’m sorry that’s what you’ve been thinking all day.”

“I was worried that you… or that I wasn’t…”

His chest aches. You’d woken up alone, no recollection of his goodbye, and without the comfort of even a text. 

“You didn’t see my note?”

The way you look at him then is heartbreaking. Eyes wide and wet and sad, lip trembling. 

“You left a note?”

Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will. 

It must’ve fallen off the bedside table, or maybe he just hadn’t positioned it obviously enough. 

A lost phone, a missed note, and not even a memory of his departure. While none of these things are verifiably Spencer’s fault, he feels so, so guilty. 

“I did,” Spencer says gently, scooting closer and pulling you into him, head pressed to his shoulder as you try not to cry, and he rubs your back slowly. 

Your sulky words are muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t see it. What did it say?”

“A lot of very nice things about you,” he whispers. Spencer thought maybe he could get away with giving you all the sincere compliments you can’t accept face to face through a note you could read while he wasn’t around. That way you couldn’t refute them or stop him. It was a good plan. 

He feels the sigh of relief leaving your body against his neck. 

“I didn’t know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. That’s not… I should’ve just stayed. This is my fault.”

You keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder as you speak. 

“It’s not. You have a job. A really important job. You can’t just call out whenever I want you around.”

Logically he knows you’re right, but he doesn’t always think logically around you. 

“I could’ve made it work. I could’ve come in late, or the team could’ve called me if there was a case, which there wasn’t—”

“Spencer, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

He pulls back slightly, frowning at your tone. You do look relieved, much less plagued than you’d been when he arrived minutes ago, but something heavy still weighs you down. The burden of it darkens your eyes and dulls your expression. When he cups your cheek, you glance up at him, and then away once more. 

He speaks softly. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?” 

Again he earns a moment of your eye contact, but it’s fleeting. He watches the words spin around your head as you try to figure out what to do with them—and then choose to remain silent. 

There is in fact something you’re keeping from him. 

Spencer hates to use work tactics on you, but he doesn’t speak either, hoping that you’ll feel compelled to fill the silence with the truth. Knowing how you’re not entirely comfortable with quiet. 

And you try, lips parting and the sound delayed as you wrestle with something you clearly don’t know how to talk about. 

“I… my neighbor,” you say, frowning like you don’t quite know why you’re speaking. “The one who told me he saw you leaving in the middle of the night. He also—he said…”

Spencer brushes hair away from your cheek with a thumb, stroking the high point in gentle passes as your words taper off. Now that he’s thinking about it, he did encounter a man in a dumpy robe standing in the courtyard and smoking a cigarette when he left you tangled in sheets and dozing contentedly to get his bag from the car. In fact, they rode back up to your floor in the elevator in mostly awkward silence. Spencer was sure his outfit told a story—shirt untucked and hastily buttoned only partway, no belt, shoes barely tied, duffel slung over his shoulder—he wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone at such an hour, to be honest, but he hadn’t particularly cared what this man thought of him, so it didn’t cross his mind again.

Now he remembers. 

Long night, huh? I remember those days. 

It was an inappropriate comment, but given his job he’s used to ignoring those. Mostly his mind had been preoccupied with the idea of returning to you, who gave him such a warm and sleepy welcome when he climbed carefully back into your arms several minutes later that it was like he’d never known anyone else at all. 

Now he resents that he hadn’t said anything, he hates the idea that you spoke to this man and he said something to upset you and Spencer wasn’t there. Usually he tries not a judge a book by its cover (metaphorically, of course) but he’s been around enough bad men to know when he’s looking at one. Last night he hadn’t even been cognizant enough to realize they got off on the same floor. 

“What did he say, angel?” Spencer whispers, incapable of being anything but soft with you at the moment. Even though he senses something a lot like a tide of preemptive anger rising in his chest, painted over with layers of anxiety and guilt. He should’ve found a way to stay with you this morning. 

You sniffle and let your head fall again, forehead resting against his collar. Instinctively his hand slides to the back of your neck and even at the awkward angle he finds a way to press his lips to yours hair. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t feel good.”

If it’s making you this uncomfortable, Spencer really wants to know what passed between you and this neighbor. In fact, he’d be willing to bet a lot of your strange behavior this evening stems from something that occurred which you don’t feel comfortable telling him yet. But he manages to bite back anymore questions. He doesn’t want to make you feel interrogated. 

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he says eventually, kindly, hand tracing down the length of your back and up again. “Why don’t you feel good?”

He doesn’t miss the way you reach up to discreetly wipe your cheek. But he won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about until you’re ready, and it seems like you’re already having a rough day. Which is not what he wanted. This is so far from what he wanted for you. He’s cursing himself for how he handled this whole situation. 

“Um, I just… I don’t know. I feel… bad. I’m sorry I’m being so weird.”

“You’re not being weird, honey. You had a hard day. You’re having a normal reaction to an abnormal set of circumstances.”

You sit up, sniffing and wiping your tears like you can just make the whole thing go away. 

“No, I am. I am. It’s all okay now, right? So I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He watches helplessly. “Nothing is wrong with you. We’ve… it’s been a big couple of days. Mostly good, but I think you’re probably really tired. Emotionally and physically.” 

You bury your face in your hands and nod silently. He still feels like he’s shooting in the dark, but you’re not entirely comforted yet, and it’s killing him. 

“Whatever you’re feeling is okay. If this is… about last night, or this morning, or something entirely different—regardless of what it’s about, you’re not going to be… in trouble with me if you’re having complicated feelings. And you can talk to me. But it doesn’t have to be right now. We don’t have to figure it out all at once, okay?”

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, and for a moment, his words sink into silence. When you do raise your head, nodding, the evidence of your discomfort is all over your face—reddened eyes, cheeks polished with wiped tears. But you take a deep breath and try to project whatever it is you think he wants to see. 

The back of your hand is soft under his thumb as he sweeps it, as if he could draw forth more information that way. People speak when they’re ready.

“Is there anything I can do?” He tries, all ramped brow and soft spoken. 

You’re looking at where he’s tracing swirls on your hand as you swallow and blink the last of your tears away. 

“Um… you can say no, but—do you think it would be okay for you to maybe stay again tonight?”

Spencer sucks in a breath, painfully aware that he’s about to let you down. 

“I… I haven’t been home in a week. I’ve been wearing this suit for two days straight and I don’t think I would want to share a bed with me again until I shower.” He watches you wilt and lifts a hand to stroke your hair. “But I do want to spend time with you… do you maybe want to come stay with me instead? No pressure—”

“Okay. Yes. Is that okay?”

Spencer’s brow knits. You seem even more enthused about the idea of going to his apartment, like now that the opportunity has presented itself you can’t wait to get out. Maybe you have some sort of black mold problem. 

“Of course. Do you wanna grab a few things and then we can go?”

“Um—I also haven’t showered today. Do you mind waiting?”

“Sure. Or you could use mine. With supervision, this time.”

Spencer is attempting to make a joke about your unplanned (and unmoderated) stay at his apartment last week after he left—but looking at your face now he’s wondering if he touched a nerve. 

“Like… one at a time? Or…”

He thought maybe you’d be more comfortable around him after last night—and it’s not like he hadn’t seen you naked before then, either.

“Do you wanna do it one at a time?” He asks gently. 

There’s this sparkly sort of longing in your eyes that he’s seen before, but you tamp it down like always. You’re so cautious. About everything. Even the things you’re curious about. It’s sweet and a little sad. 

“I’ve never… showered with anyone.”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitches as he pushes hair over your shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to. We could save like 100 gallons of water depending on how long your showers typically last, but—”

“Spencer—”

“Sorry, sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to pressure you. You absolutely can take your own shower. You can go first so you get the hot water.”

“No,” you laugh, and it’s like a sparkling cloud of gold has settled around you, fractals bouncing off the shine of your cheeks and eyes—the sound of your laughter, the look of it, is such beautiful relief he can’t believe how good it feels, but it fades from you quickly. “It sounds… I think I want to, I just… I don’t wanna, like… do… anything.”

For a split second your veiled language mystifies him and then he realizes what you’re trying to say without saying. Something has changed since yesterday, when you brazenly referred to it as fucking, and today, when you can’t even say sex. He’s gotten as far as it being something your creepy neighbor said. Maybe. He needs to know what. 

But that’s not the topic at hand. 

“We don’t have to. I didn’t mean to imply that we would do anything like that. I don’t expect anything from you.”

You swallow. 

“Okay. I wasn’t sure.”

About what?

He says your name. No response. 

“Can you look at me, please?”

It takes you a moment, and your head raises like you might need some oil in your hinges, but eventually you manage. Spencer hopes the way he’s rubbing your leg is comforting. 

“You know I’m never, ever going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?”

To his horror, your answer isn’t an immediate and resounding yes. Instead you look back down and cover his hand with your own, fiddling nervously with his fingers. 

Eventually, you reply, “Yeah… I know. I just thought… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s supposed to be different now.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Nothing has to be different. We’re still doing everything on your schedule, okay? And as for the next few days, at least—I think it might be a good idea to take sex off the table altogether.”

Your eyes narrow and you hesitate. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you worrying about it. And I don’t think it would feel good for you right now. I think there are things we need to talk about, but… we’ve probably tried enough for a while, hm?”

You give him a shy nod and hum your agreement. For a moment he lets his hand linger on your leg and then pulls it back. 

“Okay. Do you want my help packing a bag, or should I wait out here?”

“You can wait. It should only take a minute.” You pause, halfway up to look pensive. “Um, Spencer—do you think it would be okay if maybe I… if I stayed tonight and tomorrow? I just—I wanna get out of here, for a bit.”

He frowns but doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Can I ask why?”

“It’s just… suffocating sometimes,” you call as you turn and hurry down the hallway to the bedroom. “Feels like my neighbors are on top of me, like they’re… breathing down my neck, half the time.”

Sure, bigger apartments exist—but it’s not like you’re in a studio. And you’ve never mentioned feeling that way before. That bad feeling is starting to come back—like you’re not telling him something he needs to know. But is it worse to let you deal with it yourself until you’re ready to talk or to force it from you?

A few minutes later you return, a duffel of your own over your shoulder and full to bursting. 

“So I’m an idiot. My phone was literally in the pocket of my jeans on the floor.” You drop the bag as you bend down by the door to pull on your favorite slippers. “Oh—I think I forgot my charger, can you grab it? It’s by my bed.”

Spencer of course obliges, and is secretly pleased to be in your room again, in the light this time, so he can see better. It’s sweet. The pictures on the walls, the plants and the knickknacks and the sticky notes scrawled with messy reminders on every surface and the sweater hanging over the back of a chair—the one you’d been wearing at the cafe all those months ago—it all feels so you. He wonders why the two of you don’t spend more time here. 

He lets himself linger for only a minute before remembering his task, but as he reaches down to unplug your charger, whatever dopey smile he’d been wearing evaporates. The sheets have been stripped from your bed, and he can see why—there’s a striking stain of dried blood, and several surrounding dots, soaked into the mattress. Not much, but enough to make him feel horrendously guilty. He cringes, imagining what it must’ve been like to wake up all alone to nothing but your own blood. Poor girl. Of course he’d noticed some, last night when he was doing his best at cleaning you up, but it had been dark, and he was exhausted, and he hadn’t done enough. 

“Where’d your sheets go, baby?” He asks once back by the front door with his own bag on his shoulder, setting a gentle hand on your lower back and holding out your charger for you. You jump slightly, and he makes circles on your back, wishing there was something he could do to settle you. 

“Oh! They—they got ruined. I threw them out. It’s fine. I have others.”

So you didn’t have enough energy this morning to walk a few feet to your shower, but stripping your bed, getting dressed, and walking down to the trash chute at the end of the hall had been top of your priority list. 

You swallow as he undoes the locks and holds the door open for you, and pretend like you’re not doing surveillance to either side as you stand in the hallway, locking your door again like you can’t get out of here fast enough. 

Spencer casts a sidelong glance at you and wonders if you’re intentionally avoiding eye contact. He tries not to think like a profiler. He tries not to assign meaning to your actions, but he can’t help it. He can’t not notice. 

He can’t not worry. 

And he can’t not wonder what you’re not telling him. 

-

part nine

[bbieangel]

Sticky

Joel Miller x F!Reader (18+)

mdni please

You and Joel find another way to make the summer heat more bearable.

tags: smut (duh), food play (popsicle), anal play, creampie, unprotected p in v (do not! do this! pls!), kind of? oral (f receiving), praising, dirty talk (joel doesn't know how to shut up and we love him for that), mentions of gagging (once), reader is abled, afab reader. joel is 20 years older. idk if I forgot anything else.

word count: 9.2k

a/n: this is just another level –for me, at least– of things I wouldn't normally write. please take my phone away? thanks. I think I was possessed when I came up with this. anyways! hope you enjoy.

this was inspired by If You Like Piña Coladas by @gutsby ! it was amazingly written, I loved it and after reading it I came up with this idea. <3

as always, please enjoy and lmk what you think! reblogs, likes and comments are always deeply appreciated 🫶🏻

It all started when you were out on patrol, scavenging and rummaging through abandoned places, looking for supplies to take back to Jackson.

"Anything, really." Maria told you, as the warmer weather was approaching and you needed anything that would help keep people cool. Especially the elders, kids and babies.

Could a horse carry a whole fan back to Jackson? Not possibly. So Joel got to disassemble it while you took the opportunity to look through every drawer, cabinet and box.

"Joel, look!" You said, holding up some molds. They were the kind that you would fill up with juice and fruit, then put the sticks in them to make a popsicle. Maybe it wouldn't keep you cool, but it was a nice distraction.

Joel chuckled as he saw them. He remembered making those with Sarah every summer in a desperate attempt to keep his daughter in a somehow manageable mood, as she hated the heat and made her irritable. You could see the shimmer in his eyes, the kind that showed up every time he thought of his daughter. He has recently started to open up about her, and you didn't really push him to do it: just let him.

"We should keep those." He replied. "Maybe try making some back at home."

The idea sounded fantastic, and there were more molds as you kept scavenging. Maybe you could even make them and offer them at the town hall for people to feast on while they fought the intense rays of sun.

Once back home, you got to work. Joel helped by squeezing the oranges as well as cutting up strawberries and apples, the kitchen ending up a fruity mess. But you didn't mind, if anything, it made your heart flutter at the sight. It was domestic, tender, to be cooking together. Making a snack to make the summer heat a little more bearable for the both of you.

You set them inside the fridge and honestly, forgot about them until two days later until Joel brought them up. The two of you were plopped on the couch, fanning yourself with magazines as you tried to pay attention to the TV with that old DVD player plugged into it, playing a movie Joel had made you watch more times that you could count on.

You were distracted, and you knew it. And he would be a liar if he said he wasn't. Your cause of distraction? The way Joel's cheeks were slightly flushed, sweat trickling down his tanned neck, how the popsicle would drip down his veiny hands. How he would lick it, God, why couldn't he lick you instead? And he was suffering from the same twisted thoughts. The way your lips would wrap around the popsicle.. he was almost sure you were doing it on purpose. Pushing it inside your mouth and pulling it out with a plop! He could think of the times you'd done that with his cock before, the image being burned inside his eyelids.

He couldn't do it anymore. Couldn't pretend he wasn't affected by you.

"It take you that long to finish that thing?" He spoke up, his voice slightly hoarse from hiding his desire for too. damn. long.

"What do you mean?"

You asked as you bit into it and chewed a smile piece of the ice thing, then swallowed it. His eyes followed the movement of your throat and oh, you knew.

He wanted to erase that shit-eating grin off your face with the tip of his cock, smearing his precum all over your—

"You know what I mean. You're doing it on purpose."

"And you aren't?" You leaned forward, and that made him feel like he'd been caught red-handed. Truth was that, yes, he had been slurping at the thing like he would swallow your juices whenever he found himself on his favorite place on earth: between your legs.

"What if I am?"

"What if I am too?"

The silence between you grew thick, like a string that was taunt with too much tension. Until he snapped it, grabbing the popsicle and shoving it into your mouth. You tried to protest by whining his name.

"Shut up." He spoke as he quickly worked to take off your shorts. He pushed them down and immediately placed his head between your legs, making you open your mouth so much that the popsicle almost fell. He caught it and put it back into your mouth.

"Keep suckin' it, sweetheart. Don't stop 'til I tell ya so."

And you obliged, a small smile on your face as you loved experimenting new things with your man. He licked a long stripe over your damp underwear, making you close your legs around his head. He was quick to separate them and nuzzle his nose against the cotton of it, inhaling your scent. You would be embarrassed if he hadn't done it like a hundred times before. It was nothing new.

"Joel.." You whined, almost pleaded as you gripped his hair. You kept eating the popsicle, licking and slurping at it to provoke him even more. And did he notice.

He looked up at you, eyes dark from his pupils occupying almost his whole irises. He took a finger and pushed at your entrance, penetrating you with your underwear.

"You take what I give you." He reminded you. Your mouth felt open at the sudden contact, aching to be filled. Some of the juice spilled down your chin and onto your chest, and he looked at it like it was the most attractive, sexy thing he'd ever seen. He pumped his fingers a couple of times before his patience broke.

"Damn it, darlin'. I swear I'm tryin' to take my time but today just won't be the case." He spoke, before pushing down his own clothes and your underwear flew God knows where.

He sat you on his lap, pressing you down against the evidence of the effect you had on him. Gently, never being rough, pushed your legs open with his knees and held you like that.

"Oh, look at 'er.. Already cryin' for me, baby?"

He teased, and brought two of his fingers at your slick. You squirmed on his lap, breathing ragged as you tried to find something to hold onto. But he didn't let you.

Instead, with those two fingers, he parted your lips open and looked down at your glistening cunt. It was gaping, closing around air as if it was already preparing itself for the stretch that Joel's length would be.

But.. he didn't do it. Not yet. He pulled the popsicle out of your mouth and pressed it against your hole. Your eyes widened and you gasped for air at the cold sensation, telling him that he couldn't do that, that it was wrong, that—

"Beggin' to be filled, isn't she?" He murmured, hot breath against your ear. He didn't really care about you trying to be cautious, he knew that deep down you didn't care about that either. You wanted to be filled, and he was a man that took your wishes seriously. He placed the popsicle in front of you so you could see it before he slowly trusted it inside of you. You cried out and he hushed you softly.

"Oh, I know, I know." He cooed at you. "She'll get used to it. Now take it."

And you trembled, fighting the internal battle of pulling his hand away or letting him fuck you senseless with a popsicle. The sticky, orange, freezing cold stick was melting inside of you. And every time Joel pulled it out and pushed it back down, some would drip out of your hole. Juices mixed with whatever blend of fruit you poured into those molds, all dripping down to the floor.

You could sense Joel's eyes locked on it, his breath becoming more labored than he would like to admit. He would beg to clean up that mess with his own tongue if it meant tasting your tangy, slightly sour slick.

"Takin' it so good, princess. Look at you. 's it feel good?" He asked, whispering against your ear. You couldn't see him but you knew that he looked pussy drunk, that grin on his face that told you he was high just from watching you take a popsicle or whatever he pushed inside of you.

You were a mess. Hair sticking to your forehead as the old ceiling fan wasn't strong enough to cool down any of you. Your own back felt sticky and hot against Joel's chest. But did he mind? No. He loved every liquid that would come out of you, even your sweat. He had eaten you out after being hours on patrol, sweat pooling in every fold of your body. But he just couldn't wait until you showered. That summed up how little Joel cared about any of that stuff.

Your head fell back against his shoulder and you shut your eyes closed as he stretched you further with the popsicle, the sounds were almost enough to make you want to hide your face in the crook of his neck out of embarrassment. They were almost pornographic, and you felt Joel's cock twitching underneath your ass.

"Joel—Please!" You cried out. "I want it. Please. I can—"

The popsicle was shoved into your mouth, pushing down on your tongue and making you gag softly as he went a little too deep. You could taste yourself in it, and it turned you on even more. Joel was tired of your cries, he would give you what he wanted when he wanted it.

"Hold it." He commanded and you held the popsicle, drool dripping out of it and into your chest, making an orange mess.

With his hands now free, he pushed your hips forward and up, lining the red, unattended tip of his dick against your entrance. You squirmed and cried, voice muffled by the long, cold stick.

"Shh, sh, sh. I got you, sweetheart."

I whispered and pulled you down against it with one swift move, having little to no mercy with your aching hole. He pushed on your lower back and you leaned forward as he started moving his hips deliberately, kissing your cervix every time he went up. He moaned at the sight of orange juice still pouring out of you, coating his cock along with your slick.

"What a sight, baby. I bet.."

He took the popsicle out of your mouth, and you panted for air. Your moans and soft cries filled the room as he filled you, stuffed you full to leave you limping for a week.

"..It'll look prettier like this." You almost didn't hear him, the pleasure overtaking you.. *almost*. But he made sure you did, at least, feel him when he pushed the popsicle into your rosebud, making the small hole stretch around it. He whimpered at the sight, something he never did. You gasped, holding onto the coffee table in front of you for dear life as you could swear you saw your soul leaving your body for good.

The squelching sounds, juices dripping everywhere making a mess around you two, was enough to make you near your orgasm. He pumped the thing in and out at the same rhythm as he raised his hips. You swore you'd never felt more full in your life, warm and cold at the same time in different places. He stared in awe, watching both of your holes swallow both him and the popsicle smoothly.

When Joel noticed that you were near, he picked up the pace of both: the popsicle that entered your anus with ease, melting and filling you to the brim, and his cock that you could swear you felt on your stomach.

"Thatta girl.. milk my cock, sweetheart. Yeah, good fucking girl."

He babbled nonsense, an indicator that he was close too. With not one, not two, but three thrusts he gripped your hips, biting down –gently– onto your shoulder as he painted your walls white with his seed. You could feel your legs twitching as his body trembled, your name coming out of his mouth in soft prayers. You followed quickly after him, closing your walls around his length in a way that almost got it hard again. You stayed there, bodies still intertwined and covered in fruit juices, panting for air until you both came back to reality.

He then scooped you up into his arms and carried you upstairs. He would clean up the mess later, he said as he guided you both into the shower. Once there, he made sure to clean up every dip and crevice of your body while you felt your eyelids drooping. He caressed your back gently and pressed soft kisses against your forehead and shoulders while rubbing you dry, making sure you were taken care of and never felt like any encounter was just to please him. Then, he carried you to bed and cuddled up against you, placing your head on his chest and running his fingers through your hair gently, like he always did to soothe you.

"We gotta make those more often. You know.. to survive the heat."

He murmured with a smirk as you drifted off to sleep. And all you could wonder was how the fuck did a man twenty years older than you have the stamina of a beast.

[isjasz]

Hi just ignore this if you want to or if you don't know or something idk sorry but I'm really interested in getting into all of the mcyt stuff that you're into but I have no idea where to start,, any tips or guides that you know of for someone interested in getting into that stuff 😭

HELLO HOW ARE U HERE IF U DONT KNOW MCYT OH MY GODS thats WILD /POS

Ty for sending this ask dw im really happy to help and introduce more ppl to these series!!

UM AIGHT SO I'd say my main main fandom is the Life Series! From season 1 to the latest season there's 3rd Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, Real Life (april fools special), and Wild Life that just ended tdy. It is a improv death game series packed with shenanigans, alliances, betrayals, and ofc fun, with different minecraft gimmicks every season <3 Up to u if u want to watch from the first season (there are several movies from different povs, I'd say Grian's is a good starting point) or watch some from the latest series Wild Life to get a feel for it :D (lizzie's episodes are relatively short if you prefer that!)

And then after that go watch animatics oh my god theyre so good, also consume fanart, and fyi the tag we use on tumblr for life series are #trafficblr and #traffic smp o7

AND THEN if u end up liking some of the content creators (ccs), a lot of them are also on Hermitcraft which is kinda my secondary fandom ish :D! A lot of fun shenanigans and amazing building happen there. The current season is season 10, and I'd say you dont really need to watch previous seasons to understand the current one 🫡 (same for life series, tho ofc a lot of people make references back to previous series) (but also I recommend watching hermitcraft season 8 if u have time its SO GOOD)

AND YEAH I THINK THATS ABT IT i hope that clears things up a little :D feel free to lmk what u decide to watch and what u think about them if u do! I'd love to hear about it🫶💥

[saetgvia]

genshin boys takin care of u on ur monthly

im back from the void of no content

im feeling berry soft and fluffy so enJOY the boys taking care of fem!reader on her period :)

characters: wriothesley, lyney, alhaitham, xiao

tw: periods (duh), staining sheets in wrio’s one, lmk if i forgot anything :D

also also i wanna make a pt. 2 pls drop any characters u want in my asks or comments ily guys enjoy

also does anyone know how to add the blue

read more tag on mobile/browser? tyty

———————————————————————

wriothesley

- kay so idk him really well needa finish archon quest but he would treat you like a QUEEN

- whatever u need he has it

- bro is chill af and knows what hes doing

- will get cuddly LMAO

- he js wants to pamper u

- so he does :D

- if u stain anything he’ll be calm and change the sheets and everything while u take care of urself

- cooks for u

- reminds u to take painkillers if u need them

- soft kisses heh

- movie marathons!!

- takes care of ur EVERY CRAVING

lyney

- determined to do ANYTHING to make u smile

- so he’ll pull random bouquets out of his pocket and present them to u

- or pretend to do a trick and kiss ur nose instead

- he is SO asking lynette for advice

- poor boy panics a lil even tho he knows how normal this is and he has a sister

- but he’s never really bothered too much abt it before

- he knows how to deal with it but he just wants to make u happy

- he treats u so well aww

- cooks for u

- makes everything cheesy

- like little smiley face rice balls

- or an egg cooked in a heart shape

- so many cuddles

- i love him

alhaitham

- so chill and nonchalant

- gets u wtv u need

- cooks for u

- ion think he’s a very big cuddler but if u need him he’ll hold u

- forehead and nose kisses

- he’ll hold ur hand a lot and like run his thumb on the back

- when he does hold u its u sitting on a couch binging movies with ur head on his chest and his fingers in ur hair

- he does acts of service to help lessen ur load

xiao

- he’s basically js confused

- ‘human women… bleed… for a week every month… and don’t die??’ WHAT SORCERY IS THis

- like lyney poor boy panics a bit

- he’s been around for millennia but this thing can get him flustered

- always nervous to hold u and kinda doesn’t want to but he will for u

- cooks for u obv

- always checking up on u, asking if u need anything

- ‘here, i got this for you’ (insert literally anything he randomly saw and thought would make u smile)

- constantly asking if it hurts

- you tell him to chill and he goes ‘HOW CAN I WHEN YOURE HURTING’ and ugh hes so soft and silly

- takes extra care of u

- constant vigilance

- so sweet

GUYS i think i’ll make a pt. 2 so again, if you have any reqs for this or any other fics drop ‘em in my asks or comments ily all <3

[starlostseungmin]

stray kids ─── as one direction songs.

✰ pairing : non-idol!skz x afab!reader

✰ genre : fluff, angst, maybe suggestive?

✰ warnings : subtle mentions of sex and drugs, kissing, mentions of food and profanity. lmk if i missed smth.

✰ notes : uhm i really don't know what i wrote. this has been sitting on my drafts since november and thank god anon reminded me about it (i actually went on hiatus after minho's birthday last year so yeah) the songs i associated with skz members are just strongly my opinion mehehe i hope you guys like it, idk if you agree with me in regards with the songs but DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS after it! thank you so much <33

✰ tags : @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly

masterlist | taglist.

chan ─── perfect

honorable mention: little things

you already know how fucked up your life is but ever since he came, those days became different. it is always the small gestures that one fails to notice in the blink of an eye. you are just going to be surprised by the time it is done or how you managed to get out of a small inconvenience. he loves you so much that he would put you first before anything else. 

chan is different from everyone else. maybe because he is labeled to be kind and so above average of doing the bare minimum which people seek from their partners. he’s perfect but he doesn’t think of it the same way. 

you tried to convince him a hundred times but all you got in response is him being a blushing mess and his giggle that makes your heart warm every time you hear it. a smile would tug on your lips that would make him stare at you, he’d bounce back on the things you said to him and you think about what did you do in your past life to deserve someone as perfect as him. 

“baby, you’re perfect,” you said for the nth time, “no, i’m not, but i’m perfect for you,” he winked. “that was smooth, chan,”

lee know ─── night changes

he might be the type to not show his feelings immediately but he’s the one who subtly shows them. it started slowly, he reassured you that everything would fall into place once you both could figure out what was going on with this relationship. 

but as long as you’re together, the love you and him shared will never change. although the process of this love story has made things go in different directions, the thought of having to stick together is essential. 

your parents didn’t like him at first, they had someone in mind and that wasn’t him and yet, you didn’t care even if your first date was a disaster and the next one after that, but that didn’t stop you. it took a while for your parents to finally accept him after tons of convincing them that he’s a great guy, but it succeeded later on. 

you had a place on your own and welcomed his cats to live with you when some of them were wild, that’s what you think. minho was a mess when you met him, but thanks to you, it’s not that bad anymore. 

changbin ─── temporary fix

honorable mention: i want to write you a song

changbin is the type to offer himself as someone you can lean on but it’s not always because of this friendship you have, but as a lover who wanted to make you feel better and forget about shit. 

temporary fix is not always meant to be a cover-up of something you’d open up again to allow another train of bullshits in your life. it felt like he was being sent from the heavens to look out for you, an angel whose sole mission is to make you happy, the same feeling like something that keeps you high. 

there’s this thing on changbin’s vibe that you don’t want to share with anybody else and he makes you feel things when you’re with him. even though this relationship sounds like a fling and a guy who sneaks into your dorm late at night to make out with you, well, it used to be. but you know changbin is so much more than that after a while. 

the phrase, “you can call me when you need me, you know?” whenever he sleeps with you is now in the trashbin the moment you settle to be someone to each other.

hyunjin ─── last first kiss 

remember the time when he said that he chose to be the last love instead of the first? exactly. being the last person to love is basically spending the rest of your life with him, even if he’s not your first kiss, not your first love, not your first in everything, it’s fine as long as he’ll be the one you’ll remember as your eternal love. 

hyunjin being fitted into this song is like a message that he wanted to convey to his love, a sentiment that would indicate how much he’d spend time and effort to stay by your side until the end of time. indeed, a hopeless romantic man he is. 

last first kiss is the very first song that reminds you of him, it is part of those memories you made with him. it was that time when he decided to take this relationship to the next level, yes, he did mention that he wanted to be your last, and by what he meant, an everlasting love. 

“let me be your last,” and when you heard him say that, you knew he was the man who fits perfectly into your broken puzzle that would mend the wound forever.

han ─── rock me

honorable mention: midnight memories

rock me suits him as well as midnight memories. but midnight memories have their effects on han, giving him the vibes of being a musician specializing in the rock genre. and as someone who loves to listen to almost every genre in the world, you fell in love with him after watching him busking by the streets. 

you were amazed by how talented he is. his fingers strummed that guitar well, and his voice? like an angel. one could say that he is a free-spirited human being who does whatever he wants and writes songs about some things that piqued his interest. 

then there’s you, a broken melody who longed for him to come back, the same goes for him who let you go. both of you thought that you were too young to be in love and jisung was better off alone but his songs were dedicated to your break up. you rocked his world when you came and left broken notes when it ended.

but he always believed that what you had back then, was real and that you’d always remember the love you had. 

felix ─── why don’t we go there 

honorable mention: kiss you

felix is someone who gets hyped easily whenever you’re with him. his bright smile, his funny reactions, and the unidentified sounds that came out of his mouth made him a fun guy to be with. it started with a fling that turned out to be something you didn’t want to rush but it is slowly beginning to have a label. 

having a relationship with him offered different dynamics. it is the way he grabs your hand when you both start to get caught by the waves crashing by the shore or how he felt when you kissed him for the first time. he is someone who can get dragged with you to whatever your plan is, a great ball of sunshine to your rainy days, someone that you don’t want to be the one that got away. 

he does think the same, especially the fact that he treasures you so much and it became an opportunity to love you more when you spend that one night together somewhere, alone. it was an invitation actually and it made you realize a lot of things. 

it is the way he looked at those stars with those dazzling eyes of his. the constellation plastered on his cheeks glowed along with them, it is what they call freckles, you love them as much as how felix felt for you. having him as a getaway made you don’t want to come back, ever again.

seungmin ─── no control

night changes was the first choice but then no control became the one for him, no control, because he is, a menace. he believed that being in love was something that gullible people would do and get hurt, maybe a few of them proved it to be valid and worth it, yet he isn’t convinced because it is just a waste of time. 

and yet, you came out of nowhere. it is the way he looks at you with those dazzling puppy eyes, the way he obeys the things you wanted him to do, and it gets worse when you share intimate affections. from a gentle puppy to a wild wolf. there’s something about you that drives him crazy every time. 

nothing matters to him when you’re around and he never felt this way before. he’d kiss you out of nowhere when you reached home with your back against the wall as your hands played with his hair. he gets weak and powerless, but gets hyped and rough which you get caught off guard every time. 

and he is very loyal, he always makes sure that no other will ever meet his interest. you don’t want to share, anyway and you got him down bad.

jeongin ─── summer love

honorable mention: fool's gold.

loving jeongin is like a breath of fresh air, the freedom that he finally held in his hands, and the time he can make up for himself to be with you. it was a reckless summer that you spent in your grandma’s place, away from the bustling city and this boy showed up on your doorsteps. 

it didn’t take a while that you immediately had this puppy love type of interest in each other. you started sneaking out in the middle of the night when your grandma was in her deep sleep, swimming together by the river across the small town on a random afternoon, sharing a kiss under an oak tree that tasted like your grandma’s apple pie, it was great. you didn’t want it to end. 

and just like any other summer, it did. you didn’t know if you would still have this continuous conversation when the school year starts since jeongin is miles away from where you live. 

you saw him sitting on one of those branches of the oak tree where you kissed for the first time, and there you promised not to lose each other even if the summer ended. you couldn’t believe that what you did for less than two months was this serious. it was hard to say goodbye, yet you hoped nothing would change after the last summer’s sunset.

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[dokkamj]

DON’T DENY THE UNDENIABLE.

before your read! this is a 18+ story MDNI!! again i excuse myself for grammar mistakes, english is not my native language, enjoy.

(idk the credits for this pic, lmk if you know!)

-

another tequila shot down your throat as the party kept going, the mission with the Task Force 141 was successful and all the team’s wanted to have a party at the squad apartment, yeah the same that the upper plans told them to take care of, but tonight no one really cared after that mission.

Simon quite drunk, look at the messy living room and sigh as he took sight of Price flirting with the one that seems y/n’s captain, so if she was there… even that little thing was here somewhere, but where?

you took another shot with Soap and laughed “didn’t know that girls can handle this much alcohol” Soap said giggling “oh well, i don’t really know, maybe i need to wait” you said with a shrug before light up a cigarette.

your mood were calm, even if the thought to meet Simon make you a bit nervous. You two…. were complicated.

You squads often works together, and his rank was higher than yours, you two kissed once, but you both decide to don’t go further, for both you mean only you.

too scared to lose your work too scared to make it real.

you sigh as the thought of him make you frustrated, you took a puff of your cigarette as you keep thinking about him, he was the most handsome man you ever seen.

a 6’6 man, muscular, dirty blond hair, hazel eyes that turn honey in the sunlight, a nose slightly crooked since he broke it two times, and the fact that you were the only one to have seen his face makes you go insane.

It was just a pure case, you were in the field when an enemy attacks him from behind, pull Simon and taking off his balaclava in a fight, you where the one too shoot at the man that was attacking something that could be yours.

He makes you promise to don’t tell anybody that you saw his face, that now you know him at 100%.

the alcohol start to kick in since you see all blurry.

Simon at the other hand was quite drunk, can’t see a shit and the balaclava was strangely uncomfortable tonight. He respected the decision of yours to don’t get serious to don’t kiss again, but half of a whisky bottle a pack of cigarette after and he couldn’t think straight.

he was looking for what was his, you.

he step in the kitchen and saw you with your hair free, a little black dress, heels and red lipstick. Fuck his dick was hard just for staring at your ass for more than a minute, he sigh and with a smirk grab your arm and pull you.

“Simon?” you look at him confused, what he was doing?? “Simon let me go” you said as he pull you in a room, locking the door, close the curtains, he was drunk yeah, but he was always on alert.

then he grab a chair, drag it in the middle of his room and sat down, taking off his balaclava “we need to talk.” he said as he rest his elbows on his knees looking up at you as you stand before him.

“huh? what do you mean?” you ask with a frown look, did you did something? was he mad at you? what the fuck happened.

“i don’t want to discuss with you about our deal.” he said as he take a deep breath, you could tell that he was drunk. “what deal?” you ask.

“don’t fucking play it dumb y/n.” he said, his tone almost mad, you squeeze your tights together, why he turn you on so easily? he was mad and you where….fuck what a mess.

you gulped “i don’t get it.”

Why did you need to do this!? why you always play the fucking dumb card, why why why? He was mad, nervous as he see blurry and he really have a problem whit containing himself, he take off his t-shirt almost ripped it off, he need to cool down.

you gasped at the sight of him with only his uniform pants, tactic boots, bare chest. dog tags hanging from his neck and rest on his pecs, he let one of his hand run trough his blond and messy hair, biting his bottom lip, legs spread.

the things you are thinking rn….

“what a whore i am.” you thought as you sigh.

“you know how many women are chasing me? you know how many of those stops me on work to ask me for my fucking number huh?” he said mad, what the fuck is wrong with him? if he wanted to make you jealous, well now you are.

“and what is this supposed to mean?” you ask rising your eyebrow, resting your hands on your hips trying to don’t get mad as much as him, or even more.

“it mean that i can everyone that i want.” he hissed and you look at him with a puzzled look “wtf is wrong with you? you think that i don’t have many man chasing me around? that they don’t stare at me?” you say and he sigh.

“Fuck y/n.” he said sighing before grab your arm pull you over him so you sat on his lap, breast under his chin, tights on his hips, you wanted to pull away but he doesn’t let you.

“i want you, only you.” he said pressing his lips on your neck, and a moan escape from your mouth, you just couldn’t resist him, it was a rough fight with yourself.

you grind yourself on him, as he slam his lips on you, squeezing your round ass with his hand “is that so hhm?” he tease, slapping your rear and sneaking his hands under your dress.

you just want him as much he wants you, his hand in your hair as the other where under your dress. you moaned “fuck the others” he muttered “i don’t want to stay away from you one more minute.” he hissed on your mouth.

“don’t try to run away from me y/n, because i’il chasing you more than every other man will” he says in a possessive tone that makes your legs weak and your breath just heavier.

“I’m not running away” you moaned, why deny it anymore? He was all you need right now.

“good girl ya’ are” he murmur on your collarbone, he smirks sneaking a hand on your wet cunt and rub your folds trough the soft fabric of your underwear, you scratch his back as just a soft touch makes you insane.

he start to play with your panties then move it aside thumb rubbing on your puffy clit as he start to fucks you with two fingers, and your mind go all blank.

you where a messy puddle in his hands, you grind on his hand that was still moving to give you pleasure “yeah, good, want ya’ ta came all over ma’ fucking finger, understood?” he hissed on your neck.

“Si, i-i understand…” you moaned, you where glad that he did locked the door, if anyone of one of your squads catch you… it would be the end.

some minutes and you came on him, on his lap, such a good girl you were for him. You start to unbuckle his belt a metallic ‘thud, unbutton his uniform pants and unzip it.

“wait- wanna eat you” he murmur on your mouth but you shake your head, fuck there is no way that you are going to wait for him.

“no, please can’t resist anymore” you moaned “but-“ you shut him put your finger on his lips “we have all the night for that” you reassure him, he smirks as he free his dick from his boxer, now between your soft tights.

“take it like a good girl ya’ are, is all yours.” he said, and you didn’t let him repeat himself as you rub the head on your folds before push yourself down on his throbbing cock, he moaned satisfied, he was finally inside of you.

there was a moment where you need to wait to your walls being fully stretched, and when you start to rocking your hips back and forth Simon moaned loudly, again luckily outside of this door where a party with loud music.

he nibbled on your collarbone, squeezing your breast keeping you close, you where a goddess to him, fuck he was willing to get on his knees and beg you to break the deal if it was necessary.

he pull the dress down to suck on your nipple, he just wanted to smell you, to feel you.

“fuck, y/n” he said feeling your walls squeezing him in a deadly trap “i hate that i can’t resist you” you muttered moaning and panting.

“i’m so grateful that you can’t resist me sweetheart.” he said before make you stand up “but i need to give you a lesson.” he grinned before slam you on his desk on his paperwork, make you bend over, taking of your dress and throw it on the ground.

before, with a deep thrust stretching your walls once again, pounding in you roughly, making you scream his name and gripping the side of the desk.

“scream as loudly as possible, i’m the only one that could save you from myself.” he said before spank your ass, you rolled your eyes back into your skull.

“Simon— Fuck—“ you moaned feeling already the second orgasm building up in your lower body, one hand gripping your hip and the other grab your hair, pulling it and makes you look at him as he pound in your from behind.

dirty blond hair messy, pecs sweating, eyes full of lust as he licks his dry lips, you would let him do whatever he wants with you.

you screamed once again but he put the other hand on your mouth making you stay shut as you came on his fat cock once again, feeling your own juice dripping down your tights as he keep thrust in you.

spanking your ass and press your cheek against the cold wood desk making you stay still, he was rough and you where glad for it, finding someone that wasn’t afraid to surpass the line.

“fuck— i own ya’, did ya’ fucking hear me?” he hissed in your ear, you rolled your eyes in your skull once again, overwhelmed by all the feeling he was giving you.

you didn’t respond as you keep moaning, he spanks your ass leaving a big red mark that was getting only more red than before “ya’ fucking hear me!?” he said and you scream in pleasure once again before nodding “Si-si i’m yours.” you said feeling another orgasm building up.

your breath was irregular as you salivate on the desk clearly cock drunk.

“good girl” he said as he leave delicious spanks on your ass and bite on the back of your neck. Thrust in you harder than before as you came another time, fuck, you where so sensible when it comes to him.

you could hear him moaning and growling, gripping your hips more painfully than before and dropping himself on you, forehead on your shoulder as he release himself in you as his cock throb in your folds.

“take a little break, because i didn’t finish with ya’. Ya’ heard me?” he said with a smirk and you couldn’t help yourself, you kissed him, why didn’t you give up months ago?

[astradyke]

hey so I've been a casual Dan & Phil fan for years but never really a part of the fandom. Recently started scrolling thru the tag and like...did I miss something? Have they actually said for real for real that they dated? Like I'm queer and tbh 2 gay guys living together for that long have to at least done *something* but I'm not an rpf person (no shade) but I do wanna be up to date on the Dan and Phil facts (phacts?) Obviously they're some kinda soulmates but tbh I know some queerplatonic soulmates who aren't *together* so idk if that's them or not. Am I missing receipts or is their relationship presumed given their whole situationship? Genuinely asking and no shade to your shipping intended.

hiya! i'll try to be succinct here but i might totally miss some things as a heads up :P

In Basically I'm Gay on the Daniel Howell channel, the same monologue that led to the description of them as soulmates also included the statement: "And that was when, through the magic of the Internet, I met Phil. And obviously we were more than friends, but it was more than just romantic [...] The relationship we formed, at that point, was something that I needed in my life." Despite "relationship" being a neutral, versatile term, the preceding sentence confirms they've been in an explicitly romantic relationship. along with that explicit confirmation, we also know from several other relics from 2009-2011 in particular that the two were at the very least actively flirting (I can retrieve a few formsprings for you that point to this if u want just lmk!). Additionally, in 2010, Phil made a privated video addressed to Dan that explicitly confirms a romantic relationship; this video was unprivated via a YouTube glitch in September 2011 and circulated heavily in late 2012. it was a serious incident that outed them and thus people don't talk much about it. I've never seen it in full-- it's pretty much off the Internet entirely due to copyright strikes-- and I really solely bring it up for context that they were dating at that period in time.

Basically I'm Gay only indicates a past romantic relationship, leaving their current one ambiguous, and both Dan and Phil's respective coming out videos state that they want to keep their personal dating lives private (both of these videos were released in 2019). Since then, though, there's one other explicit confirmation of their relationship-- I had a difficult time hunting down this exact interview in entirety, but my lovely mutual freckliedan helped me find the relevant screenshot:

[ID: In bold, the interviewer's text says: "So, just like a normal gay couple then?" Below, Dan's response is not in bold, and says, "Basically, yeah."]

I was able to find another screenshot at this post as well, which has the actual context confirming that they were discussing Phil previous to this. Now, obviously, this interviewer was a little forward in their questions, so I understand any reluctance in considering Dan's response-- however, Dan is a professional, and if he was sincerely uncomfortable with this line of questioning, I have faith in his ability to avoid answering it altogether. I therefore assume he knew what he was doing, and that this can be taken as a valid statement. This was from 2023 iirc.

Both of these excerpts-- from Basically I'm Gay and from this interview-- do suggest that Dan and Phil have a romantic relationship. On top of both of these more concrete confirmations, there's a lot more information/statements they've made public that corresponds with a romantic relationship, even if none of them are technically exclusive to romantic relationships.

A brief list: They've lived together for approximately 13-15 years, and bought a house together with a mortgage (for brevity's sake, I'll exclude other things that kind of pair with this). They make frequent sex jokes on their channel, several of which stating things about the other's sexual preferences. They recently went on holiday together, just the two of them, and given the tourism biz and how they discussed the holiday it seems like they were in a place intended for couples. Phil's sister in law, Cornelia, refers to Dan as an uncle to her child. They use pet names for each other. They frequently joke with the phandom, riffing off of jokes about their relationship (reacting to posts saying they are in a situationship, making a joke about having a joint toilet, etc.) This is most arguable, but it's highly likely that they share a bed as well (again, going off of the images/videos they've shown us of 'Dan's bedroom'). Lastly, other interviews with Dan include him being highly verbose about his relationship with Phil, but he's referred to him briefly as his "husband" in a long list of other words like "soulmates" and "just mates", ending with "who the fuck knows?", in one past interview (I have a picture of this but I can't attach it rn I can find it if you'd like though!)

It's not impossible that Dan and Phil's relationship isn't currently romantic, and even operating off of the assumption that it is, there's information we don't know about that (whether they're monogamous or polyamorous, for example, or whether or not they share a bed). It honestly just seems unlikely that their relationship is queerplatonic, given the past statements indicating that it has been romantic historically and the interview (+ supplemental evidence) suggesting that it currently is (I am very aware of the variation in QPRs, though, so I'm sympathetic to that interpretation from folks. However, I also understand that many explicitly romantic partnerships are considered to be QPRs-- in media or with real people-- in a way that contributes to gay erasure. It's nuanced and I am not the person best equipped to eloquently discuss it). Obviously, just to underscore here, we are not owed any information about their personal lives and the vast majority (if not the entirety) of the phandom just riffs off of the information they tell us, all of which happen to point to a romantic relationship. They clearly don't have any discomfort in us assuming this, and I personally don't believe they'll ever give us any more conclusive statement about their relationship any time soon, given that they've told us enough that the implication of a romantic partnership is pretty solidly there.

TLDR: Dan and Phil have "hard launched" (AKA released information that portrays their relationship as irrefutably romantic) 2-3 times. There is also other more indirect information that seems to confirm a romantic relationship, though if one wanted to, it could be read as non-romantic-- however, given those conclusive statements, and the current way they treat phandom commentary about their relationship (AKA not giving a shit), it is the effective conclusion that they are in a romantic relationship. Other conclusions, such as them being queerplatonic or them having broken up, seem to rely on a lot of critical assumptions, while the idea that they are in a romantic relationship is in line with their own statements as well as what we generally see out of them.

Thank you for your patience and your very kind ask! PS calling it "phacts" is funny as fuck, I did not utilize that verbiage here through my reply but you were a visionary for this. have a lovely one :D

PS. If any folks want to add, or if I missed something when glancing back over this and corrections are needed, please please please share! I am so deeply not a phandom history i am simply a little guy! much love

[so-long-soldier-writes]

drabble #15 - attention to detail

kai parker x reader

summary: kai admires the way you watch tv

tags: tv watching, fangirl behavior, neurodivergent behavior (?)

word count: 1k

a/n: neurodivergent and/or fangirl reader; idk, this is something i do, idk if i'm crazy for it, or if people relate to it. lmk if i'm crazy. i just want my weird habits validated by kai, mmkay! 😅

Your finger hovers over the exit button on your screen as someone enters the room. Anxiety grows in your chest, but you try to not let it show. They circle around you, likely to join you on the couch, but hopefully not.

“Hey,” the person greets. You relax at the voice of Kai. Despite his reputation, you quite like the guy. He has his own demons, and is learning his way about the world, and while you have nothing in common otherwise, you kind of relate to him in that way. 

“Hi.”

You don’t see it, but he smiles at your response. Just the acknowledgement of his presence is nice to hear. Especially in the gentle, non-accusatory tone you use with him. “Whatcha watching?” He saw a glimpse when he passed behind the couch, but didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by lingering. 

“Oh, just this show I’ve been into for the last couple weeks,” you say, not wanting to reveal the title and give him an opportunity to poke fun. 

“Ah, the one you were watching yesterday? With the- with that actor you like?”

A small blush rises to your cheeks as you squeak out a “yes”, and Kai finds it absolutely adorable. 

“What season are you on?” He asks, no judgment about the show, nor the actor you like. A wave of confidence splashes over you. 

“Six, technically, but I’m rewatching season four before I watch anymore of six, because I’m not ready to process new information.” You chide yourself immediately. What a strange thing to say. And you were doing so well until then. 

Kai narrows his eyes, but then shrugs. “Okay.”

“Like, something big just happened in season six. They’ve already introduced the Big Bad, but the Big Bad in season five was so detrimental to the team - it killed a bunch of folks, and mentally scarred a whole bunch of others - that I’m not really ready to deal with another, so I’m rewatching a season where I know what happens, so that I already know who gets hurt, so it’s less painful to watch. Plus, rewatching episodes always helps me see things I miss the first time, which gives me a better understanding of the plot and the characters.”

Kai tries to not study you like a bug, but he’s fascinated by your explanation. The empathy you have for fictional characters is something he can’t help but admire, as is your desire to soak up every detail like a sponge. He wonders what it would be like to care so much that watching any further would genuinely hurt him. For the first time, he wishes he could love, so he could love like you do.

“Sorry,” you say after a moment of silence, “I just… infodumped on you. That was probably really confusing and weird.”

“No, not weird. It’s nice.” Kai tries to reassure you, but can’t find the words he needs you to hear. 

“I should probably just watch the season and have one big cry at the end like a normal person.”

“No, I think your way is better.”

“Wait, really? Most people tell me it’s just a tv show and to get over it.”

“Well, yeah, it’s a show, but it’s something you love, so who gives a fuck how you like to watch it? They’re not watching it with you; they’re not even in the room. I like the way you say you take the time to learn the characters and understand the plot. Y’know, someone put a lot of effort into that show you’re watching, and you’re enjoying it the way they’d want it to be enjoyed. Like it’s a piece of art in a museum, and you’re pointing out all the brush strokes and reading the plaque to understand the medium.” When you give him a confused glance, he smiles sheepishly. “I know a little about a lot of things. Went to a couple museums when I was stuck in 1994.” 

“Ah.”

“But my point is, coming from a sociopath, the empathy you have for the characters in your show is really cool. And I can understand the rewatching bit, too. I haven’t rewatched anything with the intensity that you have, but obviously, I could only watch anything made pre-1994, and to hell if I’m watching anything black and white, so I’ve seen some of the same movies once or twice, or more. Sometimes I get tired of rewatching the same stuff, but sometimes, I’ll also pick out a funny line I missed the first time, or a hand gesture that reveals a character knew something all along.”

You smile at him, grateful for his words and engagement in the conversation. You feel a little less childish about your own habits, especially knowing Kai’s not one to lie or hold back his true feelings about anything. For him to go as far to say he recognizes your empathy is a lot, and nothing you’d expect from the newly-reformed serial killer. 

“Thank you,” you blurt out, not wanting to leave him hanging.

“For what?”

“For not making me feel stupid about my interests.”

His eyes narrow. “Who makes you feel stupid?”

“A lot of people. Family… Damon.”

“Well Damon tries to make everyone feel stupid, and family sucks.”

You snort. “True.”

“If he says anything again, he can go through me.” Kai sends you a wink. 

“Okay,” you giggle in response. 

“Good.”

The man watches you for a minute longer. You press your spacebar to make the show play, and he takes note of the smile that spreads across your face as the characters fill the screen once more. He wants to ask to watch it with you, but doesn’t want to push just yet, so he doesn’t. He’s making progress, though, and gaining your trust. Hopefully soon, you’ll be less shy around him. 

And you think the same, feeling his eyes on you. Your trust isn’t something that’s easily given, but this isn’t the first time Kai’s made you feel comfortable, and you have a feeling it won’t be the last. He stays on the other end of the couch, but sticks to himself, and within a couple minutes, laughs quietly at something on his phone. The air between you is pleasant. His words run through your head once more, as the same scene plays for maybe the tenth time, but this time, you aren’t as worried about the people in the room as you watch.

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field XIV

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.2k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there. oh, and manipulation (both of them lowkey)

masterlists // nav // requests

a/n: omg so the next part has over 5k words and its not even close to being done?? should i post it all at once or break it up?? lmk your thoughts! also!! i think there's only two parts left omg... BUT do not fear bc i'm also writing another little thing for this and i feel like i'll keep doing that :)

series masterlist

You run back out to the stage, just as the Covey band's song is about to end. It was the last one, you thought, if their at home rehearsals were any indicator. You climb back up the side with an exaggerated stumble in your step, drawing the attention of Lucy Gray. She gave you a confused look, having expected that you and Coriolanus would be quite busy, especially after your song. She didn't expect you back on stage at all that night.

You smile and take the mic before she can say goodnight to the audience. "How about one more? I've had a second wind!" You say, looking to the band for their approval. Everyone besides Lucy Gray just giggles at you and nods.

"Alrighty, well, we'd really love to but our Sage here has clearly had a bit to drink and needs to get home." Lucy Gray tries to save it with a joke.

"Oh, come on, Lucy Gray. Live a little!" You laugh, playfully nudging her shoulder. "Who wants one more!" You call out which is returned with whistles and claps of encouragement.

"Alright, alright. Just one more, though." She agrees, smile returning to her face as he shakes her head.

The song ends and the band is packing up, and you can only hope that Coryo is long gone. The floor empties out, and you watch as Maude Ivory hops off the stage.

"Hey, Maude Ivory!" You call after her, hiding the sense of urgency in your voice. "Hey, can you help me clean up the floor before you grab a drink? I'll grab you your water." You offer, hurrying behind her to keep her from going to the back room. You didn't want her to see the bodies you assumed were still back there.

"Yes ma'am." She nods, giving you a quick salute.

"It's not a lot today, just a few bottles we can reuse." You smile at her as she skips out to start at the opposite edge of the room. "Lucy Gray, c'mere." You call to her as she closes up her old guitar case.

"You okay?" She asks, confused by your sudden sobriety.

"Come with me." You whisper, leading her into the back hallway in front of the door.

She follows, worry creased into her brow. Suddenly, she notes the red spots across the front of your dress which were almost invisible under the stage lights and among the red accents of the fabric.

"Something happened, okay? You can't let them come back here." You insist, referring to her family. "And you can't tell anyone."

"What?" She asks in a hushed tone, glancing past you toward the door. "Is it Coriolanus?"

Before you can explain, she's pushing past you and shoving the door open. You follow her quickly, reaching your arms around her to cover her mouth to keep any kind of reaction from being heard. You effectively muffle a cry of shock, and she's shoving you away and turning to face you. "That's- that's Billy Taupe, and, and Mayfair-"

"Shh-" You hush her quickly. "It was self-defense, okay? She was going to get us all killed. You included."

"I- no, I don't-" She tries to articulate her thoughts as her eyes fill with tears.

"I know, okay? It's less than ideal. Coryo is handling it. We just have to stay quiet." You promise. "Let's just grab everything and bring it all out, pretend you saw nothing. Maude Ivory and CC can't see this, do you understand?"

She nods, sniffling and looking between the bodies. "Hey, don't look at them." You remind her, gently turning her chin toward you. "They hurt you. Now you can move on, okay?"

"Okay." She whispers shakily, nodding again as you gather all the Covey's backstage supplies to bring out.

The next morning, you're awoken to a pounding on the front door of the small home, the four of you who shared a room all shooting up at once.

You scramble to get a peek out the window, spotting the grey shade of peacekeeper uniforms and cursing.

"Who- who is it?" Maude Ivory asks, scared as she looks between you and Lucy Gray.

"Peacekeepers. Lucy Gray, we have to go." You say quickly, closing the shade and grabbing your dress and Lucy Gray's arm.

"What? What's happening?" Barb Azure asks, rubbing her eyes.

"They're going to bust in if you don't open the door. Just tell them Lucy Gray isn't home. Don't mention me and if they ask, you don't know who I am. Do you understand?" You ask frantically and the girl nods fearfully.

As quickly as possible, you and Lucy Gray are flying out the back door and making a sprint for the trees behind the house.

"Any sign of the guns, or the girl? Mayor Lipp is sure she did it, or at least knows who did." A gruff voice of one of the peacekeepers has you and Lucy Gray both looking at each other, hands clutched over your mouths to keep quiet.

"None." His comrade replies, standing almost directly beneath you after they searched the yard. Clearly not very thoroughly, if they didn't see you and Lucy Gray sitting only about ten feet above their heads.

You cringe as he walks right over your garden, crushing the blooming raspberry bushes. "They arrested Plinth. Just got word, apparently, he was involved with rebels." The first man speaks again, and your eyes widen.

"Plinth? He's two beds down from me. Didn't expect that from him. He's a nice guy."

"No, I know. Anyway, he'll be executed this afternoon." You have to bite your lip to keep it from shaking under your hand, as if somehow that could give you away.

"Whatever, we'll come back later to get her." One of them says, making their way back through the house.

You hide in the branches and leaves until you're sure they're gone before carefully unsticking yourself from the ridged bark you were sitting on for far too long. You carefully climb down after Lucy Gray, making a quick effort to pull any stray sticks of leaves from your hair.

"What are we gonna do? They think I did it, I didn't do it, they'll kill me!" Lucy Gray panics, and you think about it while you quickly change into your dress.

"I think you have we have to run. Like you planned to do. We just have to follow through." You tell her, nodding to yourself.

Lucy Gray sighs, tipping her head back to look up at the sky. "I didn't even really want to go, I just wanted to get Billy Taupe off my ass."

"Well, he won't be there now." You say, looking her over. "How were they going to break that girl out?"

"Lil?" Lucy Gray asks, confused as she looks back at you. "I... I don't know, but it doesn't matter now, does it?"

"Did they have a plan? Did they write it down anywhere?" You ask again.

"Well, yes, but they didn't write it down. It was too risky."

"Tell it to me. Every detail you can remember." You urge her, trying to settle the panic rising behind your ribs.

Coriolanus had been out all morning with his team, looking for the weapon that killed the mayor's daughter and praying every moment that they wouldn't find it. After breaking down the doors of countless homes, he thought he would start to feel better. There was no way they would be caught, but he was regretting not taking the initiative to hide them himself. That way, he would at least know.

With his issued weapon in his hand, they were pacing down a desolate street. By now the whole district knew to lock themselves away, except for whoever he just saw in his peripheral vision through a narrow sidestreet. He turns his head fully, just catching the ends of their hair and the red in their short dress before they disappeared. He stops, quickly taking the turn into the side street and looking back to make sure no one had seen him depart from the group.

With the bag of tools thrown over your shoulder, you tried your very best to be quiet while walking through the city. Walking down a sidestreet, you found it was a challenge to be both fast and silent. At the sound of footsteps behind you, you hold the bag in your arms to prevent the tools from knocking together and step into a narrow doorway, back pressed to the wall.

You're breathing heavily, but keep it steady as the footsteps on the gravel of the road come to a stop. You hear them turn, presumably looking in both directions. You're in the middle of cursing yourself for being spotted when you hear a whistle. A calling one, baiting you to peek out from your hiding spot, but you don't budge. Another whistle. "Hey, Y/N? Is that you?" The whistle is followed by Coryo's voice whispering your name, and you're infinitely relieved.

You stepped out quietly, and you couldn't help but smile when you saw his familiar face. He meets you halfway, and you're quickly wrapping your arms around him. "Coryo..." You sigh, not ready to let go of him just yet.

"Hey, Y/N/N..." He whispers back, kissing your head. "Are you okay? What are you doing out? You need to get home."

"I can't." You shake your head, finally dropping your arms from around him. "Did you hear Sejanus got arrested this morning? He's going to be executed."

Coryo is in shock, jaw going slack as he tries to decide what to say. It must have been his recording, because there was nothing linking him to the murders.

"I'm going to break him out. Like they planned to do for that other girl."

Instantly at your statement, he shakes his head. "Absolutely not. You'll be caught and you'll be next. There's a poster of you in the head peacekeeper's office. I've seen it. They're looking for you here, it's too risky."

"I'm not going to let Sejanus die over something he didn't even do." You whisper, voice picking up in anger as you glare up at him.

"You can't, Y/N. I get why you'd want to, but it's not worth it." He insists.

"They won't catch us. I'm getting him out and we're running, just like they planned to do anyway."

Coryo scans your face for any sign at all that you may be kidding, but he finds none. "Don't. Don't go. I wanted to tell you this last night, but they're relocating me to Two. You can come with me. I'll get us both out of here."

"Closer to home?" You ask, a hint of hopefulness flitting in your eyes before it's quickly replaced with sadness. "Wait, no. No, they'll ship me back home, and then what? I'll be killed anyway, or worse." You sigh, shaking your head as you look down. This is probably about to turn into a goodbye you never wanted to say.

The idea of leaving him behind was breaking your heart, but would you really be leaving him? You knew what would happen to him. He'd go to Two, rise quickly in the ranks, and be elected president by the time he turned twenty-five. He would be okay, but would you be without him? You couldn't stomach the idea of taking such a bright future from him just because you had nothing left. "I have to go with them, Coryo. It's my only choice."

He can already see that there is no shot you'll be happy out there. You probably wouldn't last the week, either. He nods a little bit, taking your hand. "I'll come with you." He nods again, deciding it for himself. Coriolanus Snow is not about to say goodbye to the love of his life for the last time as someone she was pretending to be but never truly was, nothing more than a rebel from District Twelve.

"No, your relocation, it's your ticket home. You have to take it." You reply.

"It doesn't matter. If they find the gun, I'll be killed either way. Here, in Two, or back home. I can't escape it, same as you." He promises. "There's nothing for me there anyway. Not without you." Coryo says, rubbing his thumb gently over the side of your neck, warming the chilled skin there.

How could you say no? "Okay." You whisper, nodding slightly as your cheeks flush pink. "Can you leave tonight?"

"Uh, I, no." He shakes his head. "Earliest I can get away is sunrise."

"Shit... okay." You hum, looking around as if that will help you think. Undistracted from his all-consuming blue eyes looking into yours. "We can try and wait, then meet us at the hanging tree at dawn. If we're not there, hike to the cabin. We'll wait there if we can't hide here overnight."

He nods in confirmation, looking quickly over his shoulder as you both hear cheers and whoops of excitement making their way down the street toward you. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow." He agrees.

"See you tomorrow." You give him a small smile, turning to continue on your way when he grabs your wrist. He's quick to pull you back to him, colliding his lips with yours. He always kisses like he's starving. God, you wouldn't be able to live without that.

"Be careful, Y/N/N." He warns as he pulls away. "Stay safe."

"Yes sir, mister president." You grin, kissing him again quickly before walking away. You turn as you walk backward to face him, giving him a salute.

Coryo smiles to himself smugly, nodding at you before rushing to rejoin the other peacekeepers in his squad as they drag Spruce back toward the compound.

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey ,  @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

[uceyliyahh]

NOVACANE

Summary: After dealing with a traumatic event in Desiree's past life she decided to keep her heart closed off and didn't have any desire to love again until she met him.

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE, PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

word count: 4392

Jey Uso x Desiree

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

But I’ll be writing along the way since this story is in my drafts on Wattpad right now so yuh. 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic

@hunnidmilly @celesteheartsjey @charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @luvrsluxe @4milly @xbriexx @trippinsorrows @yyaktayak

Ø6

"I will love you forever mama,"

"You have to trust me I'm not going anywhere,"

"I don't want her only you okay? Only you,"

"I'm not going to leave you baby,"

DESIREE Jey's weekend visit came to an end all too quickly as he had to catch a flight back for Monday Night Raw. I felt a wave of sadness wash over me; I wished he could have stayed just a bit longer. Time flew by, and I couldn't shake the feeling of wanting more moments together. However, I didn't want to come off as clingy, so I decided to keep my feelings to myself and let him go.

I truly cherished our weekend together. Jey treated me like a princess, showering me with affection and attention, much like a little girl receiving her very first doll. I felt the urge to argue that he didn’t have to pamper me so, but he was determined to do it anyway, believing wholeheartedly that I deserve nothing less than the best.

Jey mentioned that he would message me as he approaches his hotel room, and I sincerely hope that no one else will be there by that time. In the meantime, I enjoyed a day off from work today, using my iPad to craft fresh designs for my clients. My boss was really impressed with my tattoo concepts and has asked me to showcase them.

I was thrilled because I have a genuine passion for drawing, especially on people. I eagerly anticipated my first day at the new job, as the strip club had become overwhelming for me ever since Jayden showed up and put me in a chokehold.

I received intimidating messages from him, and to make matters worse, the girls at my workplace were starting to learn about Jey. It really upset me, but I felt reluctant to discuss it.

 As I was using my iPad, a message from Bianca popped up, and I couldn't help but feel a wave of nostalgia for my best friend. I really miss her at this moment.

IMESSAGE 💬 Binky💗: Heyyy Desiii Desi🫶🏽: Heyyy girly I miss you Binky💗: I miss you too, how are things going right now? Desi🫶🏽: it's going fine Binky💗: how are you and Jey? Desi🫶🏽: girl, please don't start Binky💗: Desiree don't act like I didn't see you all posted up with him on your close friends 😭 Desi🫶🏽: ugh fine 🙄 we are doing good but he left for Monday Night Raw im worried B Binky💗: why? Desi🫶🏽: because anything could happen while we are away from each other Binky💗: oh? You're attached to him aren't you? Desi🫶🏽: no? I'm not Binky💗: Desi? I know you Desi🫶🏽: I'm not attached to him Bianca Binky💗: you're beautiful your denying it just admit that you're in love with him Desi🫶🏽: I'm not!🥲🥲 Binky💗: so this wasn't yall on your close friends? Binky💗:

Desi🫶🏽: I hate you so much yk? But yes I love the man he's so caring and genuine Binky💗: then what's the issue? Desi🫶🏽: we are away from each other and idk what he'll do while we are away ik how busy yall get Binky💗: see what did I say? Jey loves you so much Desi🫶🏽: I doubt that honestly who knows who he's talkin too rn B Binky💗: Desi you gotta stop being In your head about this he loves you Desi🫶🏽: idkkk honestly Binky💗: you need some dick atp girl Desi🫶🏽: 🙄🙄 dick won't help at all Bianca Binky💗: it will Desiree look don't get inside your head that much that will drain you okay? I gotta go I'll check up on you later Desi🫶🏽: kk

 Reflecting on my conversation with Bianca, I realize she might have a point. Perhaps I shouldn't overthink this situation. This man has consistently shown me that his intentions are genuine and that I am his sole focus. Yet, my past experiences with Jayden have made it difficult for me to fully accept that reality.

Sometimes my heart whispers that I love him, but my mind counters with doubts, insisting he doesn't feel the same. This overthinking is exhausting, so I immerse myself in creating designs on my iPad, trying to distract myself from the turmoil within.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

JEY I was in a hotel room with my twin brother and Trinity when I came across a story posted by Desiree on my social media feed. To my surprise, it appeared she was creating something on her iPad. I was truly amazed; I had no idea she had such impressive design skills!

I truly felt her absence after our wonderful weekend together; it flew by in the blink of an eye. Returning to work was tough, and I can't help but wish she could join me on all my adventures. However, I completely understand that she needs to focus on her job to earn her keep, and I respect that immensely.

I received numerous messages from Ke'liyah on Instagram asking when I would return to Tennessee to visit her, but I chose to ignore them, focusing solely on Desiree. As I was scrolling through my social media, I suddenly heard Jon calling my name, which made me stop and pay attention.

"What's up Uce?" I asked placing my phone down on my chest.

"When are we going to meet Desiree? Trin told me she already met her the other day when Desiree came to visit," he said

I chuckle at him, "y'all will see her soon with all of this traveling and her working its goin to be a minute," Jonathan nodded his head.

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket, and as I glanced at the screen, I noticed it was another message from Ke'Liyah. A deep sigh escaped me, drawing Trinity's gaze.

"You good Jey?"

"Yeah, I'm good it's just this girl I met before Desiree at the strip club is blowing my phone up," I replied.

"What she saying?"

I shared the messages from Ke'Liyah with her, and I could see her expression change as she read them. "That girl is really acting out; it honestly looks like she's jealous of Desiree," she remarked, and I nodded in agreement.

IG MESSAGES 💬 ke'liyah: Jeyyy I miss you uceyjucey: I don't? I have a girlfriend ke'liyah: Desiree? she's not even all of that why would deal with someone like her? uceyjucey: because I can? stop blowing up my phone why don't you start talking to my cousin he single 😒 ke'liyah: but I want you Jey uceyjucey: well I don't again I have a girl at home waiting for me to come home so you can stop messing with me respectfully ke'liyah: mmcht the dick wasn't even that good anyways little dick nigga uceyjucey: 😭😭

This girl really had the audacity to say something like that about me, but honestly, I wasn't bothered—I never liked her much anyway. I had promised Desiree that I would text her as soon as I got to the hotel room, and that's exactly what I did.

IMESSAGE 💬 Joshua💵: mamas? I made it Desiree🦋: hey that's good Joshua💵: you okay? Desiree🦋: yeah, I'm fine just watching a movie on Netflix hbu? Joshua💵: I'm just chilling right now you should watch Monday night Raw tonight Desiree🦋: just to see you? Joshua💵: exactly mama Desiree🦋: you're funny but I'll make sure to watch it tonight Joshua💵: aight, I miss yo' little cute ass already Desiree🦋: I miss you too big papa Joshua💵: big papa? 🫣 that's new baby Desiree🦋: please 😭 Joshua💵: send me a picture of yo' cute ass need something in my gallery Desiree🦋: we literally took pictures together all weekend Joshua Joshua💵: so? Send me some pictures Desiree🦋: aight hollon boy 🙄 Joshua💵: it's daddy baby doll Desiree🦋: yeah yeah whatever Desiree🦋:

Joshua💵: damn mama you making me want to come right the fuck back home looking like that 😩 Desiree🦋: boy please stop it Joshua💵: I'm fr baby them cheeks hanging out for me 🙂‍↕️ Desiree🦋: then come home Joshua💵: being bold I see? I wish I could mama but I have to be at work you'll see me again love Desiree🦋: ughhh fine 😖 Joshua💵: don't be whining or imma give you something to whine about when I come back home Desiree🦋: what the fuck ever nigga, tell Trin I said Hey Joshua💵: aight then mama I'll check up on you later I love you Desiree🦋: I-I love you too... Joshua💵: don't hesitate to say it mama you know I love you

She is aware of her feelings for me, yet her thoughts are clouding her judgment, making it hard for her to accept that my love for her is genuine. Desiree understands the situation, but I couldn't help but notice Jonathan's constant presence on my phone, which caught me off guard.

"Damn! Fool can't be sneaking up on folks like that," I said while pushing him while he chuckled at me.

"My fault Uce, my fault," Jonathan said.

"Need to get a damn private screen on my phone, yo' ass like to be nosy Trin come get yo' husband," Trinity grabbed Jon by the hair dragging him towards the other bed causing him to whine like a baby.

I chuckled at them two while continuing to scroll through my social media after texting Desiree.

OMNISCIENT Desiree was at work, gracefully dancing on the pole, her focus consumed by the rhythm and the cash being tossed her way. While the money brought her a sense of satisfaction, her thoughts drifted anxiously, wishing to avoid the sight of Jayden and his friends arriving that night. Without Jey by her side, she felt vulnerable and unprotected.

As she gracefully spun around the pole, she effortlessly transitioned into a split, showcasing her remarkable talent. The men watched in awe, clearly impressed by her skills. In admiration, they began to place money into her attire while she playfully blew kisses in their direction.

Desiree did manage to form a few friendships in this environment, yet she consistently maintained a certain distance. She was determined to avoid any potential drama with the other girls, who seemed primarily focused on their own interests, seeking both financial gain and the spotlight from the men around them.

She suddenly noticed a crowd entering, and to her astonishment, it was Jayden. Overwhelmed with uncertainty, she felt his gaze lock onto her as he made his way through the throng, pushing the men aside to reach her directly.

He stepped onto the stage and seized her by the throat, leaving her shocked and taken aback by his sudden aggression.

"Where's that nigga at Desiree?" Jayden questioned her.

"H-he's not here...let me go..." she said holding onto his wrist.

Jayden scoffed while rolling his eyes at her, "that's bullshit Desiree and you know it where is he?!" He shouted.

Desiree felt a surge of fear for her life, haunted by vivid memories from three years prior.

MINI FLASHBACK (domestic violence) Desiree and Jayden found themselves in a heated argument in the car, sparked by a betrayal that Jayden had committed without her knowledge. In a moment of anger, he struck her in the face, warning her that he would flip the car if she didn’t stop talking. Terrified for her life, she fell silent, realizing the danger of being with someone capable of such violence.

"I told yo' delusional ass that me and her didn't fuck around Desiree!" Jayden shouted.

"You're so fucking stupid,"

Desiree remained quiet, her thoughts swirling as she gazed out the window at the setting sun. She longed for an end to the tension that hung between them, hoping that soon, this chapter of their lives would close.

He was infuriated when she remained silent, seizing her chin with a firm grip and locking his gaze onto hers without hesitation. "bitch you better speak or imma fuck yo' ass up when we get home," his threats were scaring her to the bone having tears forming up in her eyes.

"I don't have nothing to say Jayden..." Desiree said.

"Oh? So now you don't have anything to say but a few hours go your ass was yapping up a fucking storm about me messing with ol' girl,"

She remained silent because the truth of her earlier words was undeniable. She had gone through his phone and discovered numerous messages exchanged with various women, yet now she was sitting there, trying to deny everything.

Desiree turned her face from his grasp, her gaze drifting back to the window as a tear rolled down her cheek, overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness.

 "There are moments when I just can't take it anymore, Desiree. Your constant overthinking and assumptions drive me to this point. It's not my fault that I'm currently unfaithful; I've found myself with multiple women, and it's all because of how overwhelming you can be."

Tears streamed down her face as she listened to him confess his infidelity. She knew she needed to walk away, but the thought of leaving him felt impossible; she simply lacked the strength to do so.

The entire car journey was filled with silence; neither of them uttered a word after he admitted to his infidelity. His confession shattered Desiree's heart, yet she allowed her thoughts to overwhelm her.

'See you're not enough for him or nobody,'

'You will never find someone different due to how you think,'

'You will never be enough,'

"No nigga will be able to deal with you, they'll just cheat on you like I did," Jayden said while chuckling.

FLASHBACK OVER

"I literally just told y-you...he's not here!" she managed to gasp out.

Jayden was on the verge of hitting her when suddenly someone yanked him away, leaving Desiree gasping for breath as she sank to her knees. She watched in disbelief as the security guard escorted him and his friends out of the building once more.

"THIS AINT OVER WITH DESIREE! IMMA KILL HIM!" he shouted while the security guards were escorting him out the building.

Desiree had never experienced embarrassment until that moment. As she sprinted toward the locker room, seeking refuge from the world outside, her body trembled uncontrollably, and her breath came in ragged gasps. Memories of the turmoil Jayden had caused her over their three years together flooded her mind, intensifying her feelings of distress.

Desiree reached a breaking point after enduring countless threats of violence—beatings, shootings, stabbings—each one weighing heavily on her mind. The fear and anxiety became unbearable, compelling her to seek a restraining order against him. With Jey often away for work, she felt isolated and without support, leaving her to confront this terrifying situation on her own. It was time to take a stand and reclaim her safety.

Amidst her tears, she resolved to pull herself together and focus on her work, driven by the desire to cap off the evening by watching her man wrestle tonight.

Desiree freshened up her face, carefully fixing her makeup that had smudged, and confidently returned to the pole, acting as if nothing had occurred.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Desiree arrived home just in time to catch Jey on Monday Night Raw. She kicked off her shoes and tossed her bag onto the couch as she made her way to the kitchen to prepare a quick meal.

She whipped up a quick mini Chicken Caesar Salad and grabbed a bottle of water as she made her way to the living room to catch Monday Night Raw. Settling into the couch, she tuned in to Michael Cole and Pat discussing the latest happenings on the show.

Recently, there was a recap of the latest events on Raw, highlighting the intriguing love story unfolding between Jey and Liv, which also involves Dom. This unexpected twist took Desiree by surprise for a moment.

Following the recap, Liv and Jey engaged in a conversation backstage about Dom. Desiree observed Jey's familiar gestures as he interacted with Liv, his hands exploring her in a way that mirrored their own moments together. This sight ignited a whirlwind of thoughts in her mind, leaving her feeling both intrigued and unsettled.

'You see that Desiree?'

'Remember what Jayden told you in the past,'

'And look it's happening,'

Desiree found herself trapped in her thoughts, a place she wished to avoid. The idea of her man being with another woman filled her with a deep sense of trauma. She couldn't tell if it was just a plot twist or something more personal, but the discomfort was overwhelming. It reached a point where she simply didn't want to continue watching.

She dismissed it as usual, her attention fixed on the unfolding match. As the game progressed, her thoughts began to drift in every direction.

Overthinking

Overthinking

Constantly Overthinking

She couldn't shake the feeling of inadequacy after witnessing his chemistry with Liv Morgan. The way he gazed at her, his lips glistening as he licked them while she spoke, made her question her own worth. Liv's beauty seemed to overshadow her, leaving her lost in a spiral of self-doubt.

MINI FLASHBACK 2 (domestic violence)

"Am I not enough for you Jayden? I have given you everything," Desiree said while folding her arms over her chest.

Jayden shrugged his shoulders at her before speaking, "I don't know Desiree, you tell me honestly," he said while smoking a blunt.

 His casual attitude towards everything was completely unsettling for her. She realized that discussing it with him would be pointless. Frustrated, Desiree raised her hands in exasperation and made her way upstairs to their bedroom to pack some clothes.

Desiree reached her breaking point after three years of feeling undervalued in their relationship. It was exhausting to watch him act as if she were insignificant, all while he was sneaking around, taking advantage of her tendency to overthink. She deserved so much more than this lack of respect and consideration.

Three years wasted down the fucking drain.

She packed a few essentials and made the decision to call an Uber to a hotel located far from his place, eager to escape his presence for good. As she descended the stairs with her bag slung over her shoulder, she caught his eye while slipping on her shoes, signaling her determination to leave.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Jayden questioned her.

"I need a break from all of this Jayden,  to think things over," she said while waiting on her Uber driver to come.

He rose from his chair with a heavy stomp, making his way toward her. In a swift motion, he yanked her hair, causing her to yelp in surprise. As Desiree met his gaze, she could see the intense fire burning in his eyes, drawing her closer to his face.

"If you thinking about leaving me I'll kill yo' ass you hear me?" His threats were sending shivers down her spine while she nodded her head.

"I'll let you have yo' alone time but you better be back," Jayden pulls away making Desiree stumble a bit while she rubbed her hair while looking at him with fear in her eyes.

'I need to fucking leave before he tries to kill me, why god did I have to go through this?' Thats all she could think about at the moment seeing her Uber driver pulling up to the place.

She cast one final glance at him before stepping out, only to find him engrossed in his phone, smiling at something that had never brought a smile to his face for her. With a heavy sigh, she walked out and firmly closed the door behind her.

Desiree stepped into the Uber, exchanging a friendly greeting with the driver. Her gaze then locked onto Jayden, who stood by the window in their house, observing her intently as if she were a captivating target.

'She fucking hated his guts,'

FLASHBACK OVER

Desiree jolted back to reality, realizing she had been lost in her thoughts for too long. She quickly checked her social media to catch up on the latest happenings. Her heart raced when she spotted a story from Liv Morgan, showcasing a picture of her getting cozy with Jey. The sight sent a rush of emotions through her.

She attempted to convince herself that it might all be a performance, merely a part of the spectacle, yet deep down, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that relocating to Atlanta with him was a mistake.

Desiree made the choice to switch off the TV, no longer interested in watching Monday Night Raw. As she tossed her food in the trash, she headed upstairs to her room.

She collapsed onto the bed, tears welling up in her eyes. How could she have been so naive to believe that someone like Jey could ever love someone like her? This thought consumed her as she cried, her breath growing increasingly shallow.

She was mentally fucked up

Hurt

Damaged

She could sense that Jey was growing weary of her constant overthinking and assumptions, just as Jayden had before. It felt like a painful cycle repeating itself. Perhaps she wasn't the right match for Jey after all—feeling shattered and mentally exhausted.

Desiree chose to take a brief shower, hoping that the refreshing water would wash away her worries and bring her some much-needed tranquility.

Desiree enjoyed a refreshing, lengthy shower and chose to activate the do not disturb mode on her phone. She wanted to immerse herself in her own world without interruptions. With her wireless headphones in hand, she placed them comfortably on her head and started playing her favorite music.

As she scrolled through her playlist, she hit play on Drake's "Find Your Love." The heartfelt lyrics filled the room, and as she absorbed the music, she glanced at her notifications. To her surprise, Jey had sent her a message, likely puzzled by her Do Not Disturb status.

Joshua💵 sent a message

IMESSAGE 💬 Joshua💵: mamas? you good? why is your phone on DND?

Desiree was uncertain about discussing the issue with him, fearing it might upset him. To avoid confrontation, she chose to fabricate a story, hoping he wouldn't catch on to her deception.

Desiree🦋: I'm okay Joshua just had a long day today that's all Joshua💵: you sure? Desiree🦋: positive Joshua💵: un-un I'm not buying it what's wrong? Desiree🦋: Joshua.... Joshua💵: nah I'm not listening to that whining what's wrong Desiree? Desiree🦋: you'll just leave me and get tired eventually...😔 Joshua💵: huh? where is this all coming from? Desiree🦋: I seen you with her Joshua💵: Liv? Baby that's just for the show it's not real Desiree🦋: then what about what she had posted on her social media? Joshua💵: I didn't know that she was going to post that I promise you it's not real mama Desiree🦋: your positive u didn't know? Joshua💵: yes mama why would I lie? Desiree🦋: men lie all the time Josh Joshua💵: like I told you I'm not him or any other man who does stupid shit like that Joshua💵: I want you to believe me baby Desiree🦋: I'm sorry a lot has been happening today...had a horrible day at work tonight and then I saw the interaction between you and her and the way you was looking at her licking your lips staring into her eyes made me feel like you wanted her instead of me...😔 Joshua💵: I don't want her baby girl, I want you and only you you have been on my mind all day today Desiree🦋: really? Joshua💵: yes, what happened at work? Desiree🦋: Jayden came back looking for you and he was being aggressive with me Joshua💵: that bitch ass boy? bet its on sight when I come back home but mama you have to trust me okay? I told you I'm serious about you and us Desiree🦋: and I told you in the beginning that you'll get tired of me with me being in my head a lot Joshua💵: and I told you that I didn't care about none of that Desiree imma love tf outta you the way you needed to be

The message he sent resonated deeply; he was genuinely serious about everything. Why did she constantly overthink when a man like him was openly expressing his love for her?

Joshua💵: I'm yours Desiree nobody isn't goin to take me away from you Desiree🦋: okay I'm sorry... Joshua💵: it's okay mamas you don't need to apologize you know I love you Desiree🦋: I do too...really do... Joshua💵: yeah? You'll see me when I come back home baby doll aight? Desiree🦋: aight Joshua💵: imma let you get some rest baby I'll text you in the morning Desiree🦋: kk Joshua💵: I love you Desiree🦋: I love you too

Desiree, after an insightful discussion with Jey, realized it was time to retire for the night. She couldn't help but wish that Jey were there beside her, wrapped in a warm embrace, providing her with the comfort and security she craved.

She quickly entered his bedroom, which appeared far cozier than her own. As she stepped into his spacious closet, she grabbed one of his hoodies and slipped it on. Then, she settled into his bed, feeling completely at ease.

She started sharing posts exclusively with her close friends on Instagram because she had a small circle and wanted to keep her personal life private from prying eyes.

uceyjucey replied to your story: I miss you too baby I'll see if I can make time to come home to see you my people wanna meet you

biancabelairwwe replied to your story: GIRL YALL LOOK SO CUTE TOGETHER OVER HERE SAYING U DONT LOVE THAT MAN WHEN YOU DO 😭😭

y2kjayden replied to your story: Your man? I don't know how he could deal with a person like you so insecure and in your head a lot

MontezFordWWE replied to your story: Don't worry sis you'll see him fasho

ke'liyah replied to your story: you mean my man?

Desiree chose to overlook the remarks from Jayden and Ke'Liyah about her story, instead focusing on Jey's response. She held onto the hope that he would find the time to visit her once more. 

She set her phone on the charger atop the dresser beside her, then nestled under the blankets. The familiar scent of him lingered in the hoodie she wore and the sheets enveloping her, providing a deep sense of comfort.

As her eyelids grew heavy, she felt herself slipping into slumber, yearning for the moment when she would finally see him again.

NOVACANE

A/n: I was expecting you all to like this story honestly I was kinda of nervous fr but honestly I think Desiree really does love Jey fr and he wants to give her the world despite all the bullshit she has been through.

But I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments below.

STAY UCEY.

[thedvilsinthedetails]

rosekiller band au microfic pt2

yayyy part 2 is here! (Again if there’s any typos lmk ty)

(also yeah I changed their ages slightly, the skittles r now 23 not 25 what r u gonna do about it?)

anywayssss here’s the ppl that asked to be tagged/said they wanted more so im tagging them anyway (sorry if u didn’t want that): @always-reading @lady-stardust-incarnate @lulublack90 @idk-what-to-put-here-123 @weirdtinkerbellversion @depressedtheatrekiddo @blu3stars @nikholascrow @good-oldfashioned-lover-girl @picklerab23

(As always if u wanna be tagged or not tagged pls lmk I won’t mind at all <3)

Link to Part One

Link to Next Part

***

Evan woke up the next morning to the harsh bleep of his phone that always managed to elicit pure terror in his body. He groaned and rolled out of bed. He’d forgotten to turn off the alarm and of course he was awake at six in the fucking morning on a Saturday.

He threw on a dressing gown over his tank top and plaid pyjama bottoms, slipped into his fluffy slippers and trudged to the kitchen for some coffee.

Once he got to the kitchen he saw Dorcas was already sat at the little island she passed him a warm cup of coffee as soon as he sat down. Dorcas had always been the earliest riser of the band, always eager to get ready quickly and get the hell out of the house, he supposed that’s what growing up as the eldest sister to four brothers did to you. 

“Heard your alarm go off, figured you’d forgot to turn it off.”

“Dorcas you lifesaver. And I mean seriously a lifesaver, I might have murdered someone without this coffee.”

Dorcas laughed.

“Who?”

Evan rubbed his eyes.

“Barty probably. He’s fucking annoying.”

“Any excuse to get up close to him then more like.”

Evan’s head snapped up.

“What?”

Dorcas rolled her eyes.

“Please you’re shit at hiding it.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout Cas.”

Evan mumbled, taking a long drink from his mug. 

“Please, save the crap. If you don’t have a crush on him, why do you get so worked up by people calling you a couple. It consumes your every waking thought, now why is that? Tell me.”

“Ughhh I don’t want to think about it.”

He groaned and stared into the brown murky depths of the mug he was cradling close to him.

Dorcas softened.

“Look, Marls and Barty are really close, our next tour stop is London which means she’ll obviously drop by rehearsals. I can get her to ask him if he-“

“He doesn’t.”

Evan ran his thumb over a tiny chip in the ceramic. It was a mug Barty had painted around four years ago, Dora had decided for her sixteenth she wanted to go to a pottery painting place like when they were little. Barty was- honestly pretty shit at painting. The background was covered in vast uneven strokes of black. He’d tried to paint a white ferret on it - ‘Ev this one is for you, if you were any animal I’d say you’d be a ferret.’ - thing is it looked more like a snake with legs that was also, well, a zombie. It was Evan’s most prized possession. He’d be taking it to the grave. He turned it to look inside the handle. Barty had been too lazy to paint that part so instead he’d just written crudely with the brush - ‘B + E forever bitches!’. His eyes crinkled fondly as he read it. 

“I just need to get over it.”

His expression hardened and he looked up at Dorcas again.

“Get over what?”

They both turned to find Barty in the doorway. His hair was sticking up in all directions. Fuzzy spikes of green and black. He stretched his arms all the way up as he yawned, flexing his wrist so his ‘SKITTLES’ tattoo was on full display. He had one of Evan’s jumpers on over his pyjama top. Evan really wanted to reach out and hold. Why’d he have to go and look so soft? Wasn’t fucking fair. 

“Nothing Jr.”

Barty nodded in response as he padded over and sat himself in the chair next to Evan.

“Why’re you even awake?”

Dorcas asked.

Barty dropped his head down onto the island counter dramatically.

“Forgot to turn off my alarm.”

Dorcas laughed out loud, fully threw her head back and everything.

“Two birds of a fucking stupid feather you two are.”

She got up and put her mug in the sink before heading out of the kitchen. Barty turned his head up to look at Evan as soon as she was gone.

“You don’t have to tell me anything Evan, but if you want to you can. You know that right?”

Barty lifted his head and propped it up on his hand as Evan nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah I know Barty.”

“Good.”

Barty shuffled his chair closer before dropping his head onto Evan’s shoulder and falling quiet. It was instinctual, the way Evan brought his arms up around him. After a few moments he looked down though, Barty was suspiciously silent.

“Bee?”

He whispered.

“M’awake. You’re just comfy Ev. You’re really good at hugs.”

Might be ‘cause I was built to hold you.

Damn that’s a fucking stupid thing to say. Fuck I’ve turned into Reg whenever he’s around James.

Yeah Evan needed to get over this like fucking yesterday.

•••

Barty breathed in deeply, face buried in the crux of Evan’s neck. He couldn’t help it really. Evan smelled like home. Probably a creepy thing to say, oh well wasn’t like he said it out loud. Evan was home though, plain and simple.

He didn’t want to move, probably ever. Still eventually as the rest of the group came pattering into the kitchen and things got livelier he had to shift away.

•••

They got on the train at noon, ready to head to London. Evan took the window seat watching as the city turned to rolling hills turned to city again. Barty kept sneaking glances over at him, wasn’t really sure what he was looking for honestly but-

“What?”

Evan asked finally, tone irritated.

“Nothing, just bored.”

“Oh um-“

Evan glanced around, he and Barty were in a two seater while the rest of the band sat around the table in front of them, chatting animatedly.

“S’fine Ev, not anything you can do about it, I’m gonna be bored till we get off this bloody train. Fucking buzzing.”

“Excited for tomorrow then yeah?”

Barty turned to him with shining eyes. 

“D’you remember when we were eighteen? First time at the O2 for a concert? Fuck d’you remember seeing it like that, covered in all the lights ‘n shit. Eventim Apollo doesn’t even compare.”

Evan chuckled. They’d gone to the O2 for the first time June 2019 to see a concert when Evan was still in his backstreet boys phase, something no one was allowed to talk about now under any circumstances.

“D’you remember what you said to me?”

•••

“Look at that stage Ev. Imagine playing there. For all these people.”

Evan turned to Barty and ruffled his hair.

“One day Bee, we’ll be playing here. I promise you yeah? We’ll be playing here and it’ll all the fucking sold out.”

“You think?”

•••

“Yeah. Yeah I do.”

***

AHHH I HOPE U LIKED ITTTT (idk when part 3 will be coming but hopefully soon <333333)

[the-wize-1]

Thawing the Widow (A Natasha Romanoff Story): Chapter 6 - Frozen Peas

Chapter Summary: Cat's plan kind of fails (is anyone surprised?)... but it also works out? Things happen and she’s reunited with a certain redheaded assassin.

Chapter Warnings: Talking about a mugging, playful threatening with a knife. This is and will be minor friendly! No smut in this story.

Notes: Nat returns this chapter! But this isn’t the last we see of Peter! Thank you to everyone who reblogged/commented/read so far! Getting notifications really encourages me and I enjoy each and everyone one of them. New chapters will come Monday/Thursday 5PM PST (I’m on time FINALLY). Also idk if I should make a tag list but if so lmk who’s interested! Happy reading!

Thawing the Widow Masterlist

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

"That was awesome!" Cat breathed as Spider-Man dropped her and Taco back on the ground. Her heart was still beating fast from the exhilaration. Swinging around New York was similar to riding a roller coaster, albeit a faster, steeper, more dangerous one with significantly less elbow room.

Spider-Man looked around the abandoned streets warily. "Um… are you sure this is where you wanted me to drop you off?"

Cat made sure she had the right dark alley. Granted, all the dark alleys looked generally the same in New York, but she had a great mind for directions. And she was pretty sure she was at the right place. If she squinted, she could spot a few familiar landmarks. And… there! If she could get a little closer, she could just make out the sliver of the door on the side of the wall.

The door of the safehouse.

"This is the one," she confirmed.

"If you're sure," he said. "Is there anything I can do to help? I don't think I have any cash on me— wait—" He awkwardly patted himself down for cash, even though Cat couldn't see how any pockets could possibly be hidden in the folds of his spandex. "Yeah, no cash. Sorry."

Cat suddenly had an idea. "Can I have your autograph?"

"What?"

"You know, to sell it," she said unremorsefully. "It might help me make some money. Sorry if that's offensive. I need everything I can get right now."

"Oh, that's really smart. I didn't even think of that. I don't have any paper, do you?"

Cat rummaged around in her backpack. She had a few souvenirs, a mug that was only a little cracked, some pieces of cardboard, and an I-Heart-New-York sweatshirt that was slightly too large for her. Lastly, she pulled out an extra thick sharpie. She'd gotten most of the items in the soup kitchen cupboards, or at homeless shelters.

Spider-Man quickly scribbled his signature on all of them, leaving little sweet but unnecessary notes. "Here you go."

"I'm really grateful for this," she told him.

Before handing the sharpie back, he paused. He stared at her for a long time. "Are you going to be okay?"

She glared at him. "Of course I am!" she said indignantly. "I'm tough, you know."

"I know. You're pretty neat, Cat."

"You're not so bad yourself, Spider-Man."

He awkwardly placed his hand on her shoulder, then removed it almost instantly. "Well, just know that if you're ever in trouble, I'll always be around. Just… scream for help, or something." He patted Taco on the head. "Bye, cute beagle." He shot a web up into a ledge of a building. He made a peace sign at her as he yanked himself into the air. "See ya, Cat!"

"Bye!" Cat called after him as he swung out of view.

I'll be okay, she thought.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

She was so not going to be okay.

"Damn," she swore under her breath, jamming her knife in the lock for the eighth time in the dim hopes that it would work that time.

Cat dug it in harder, twisting and turning every which way. She was waiting for the telltale clicks and shifts, but they didn't come. Instead, the knife was met with a stubborn wall that blocked it from moving in further. She'd been there for at least ten minutes, with a sinking heart. They'd changed the locks.

"Damn it!"

Taco barked. Cat liked to imagine she was sharing her frustration.

Frustrated and disappointed, Cat gave up. Plan A was a no-go. She'd have to find somewhere else to sleep. Which actually really sucked, because it was freezing. The wind was blowing with a frigid ferocity that night. She tried to yank the knife out of the lock, but it was stuck.

She swore again, tugging at the knife, but it stayed stubbornly stuck. Her grip slipped and she fell backwards onto the ground, landing hard. Oww. She groaned. Taco jumped up and padded over to her, licking her face.

Despite Taco being adorable as always, Cat was miserable. Her hands and face were numb with cold. She could hardly feel her fingertips. She was shivering in her feeble, tightly stretched coat and thin leggings that offered no protection from the cold. She'd been looking forward to the warm, welcoming safehouse, but now even that wasn't an option. The good thing was, the cold did a good job of numbing the pain on her face and ribs. She had long gotten used to the throb of pain.

Cat got to her feet, shaking with exhaustion. She took a shaky breath, steeling herself. Her eyes narrowed and she gritted her teeth. Whether she was getting into the safehouse or not, she sure as hell was getting her knife back.

She rubbed her hands together, trying to generate some warmth into them. She wrapped her hands around the hilt of the knife, and raised her left foot to a position over the lock. Taco watched her with a perplexed expression, as if asking her what the hell she thought she was doing. Pushing off of her left foot, leaning sideways, she tugged at the knife as hard as she could.

The knife came loose. Cat couldn't regain her balance quickly enough, so she went flying backwards, slamming into the opposite wall with a sickening crash. She collapsed to the floor with a heap. For a moment, Cat laid there, breathing hard, and felt impossibly tired. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to fall asleep right there…

Then, she heard something moving behind the door. With a grunt of pain, Cat forced herself to her feet. She held her knife to her side, the slightest sliver of hope in her heart.

The door groaned open.

"You're making an awful lot of noise," Natasha said.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Natasha didn't say a word as she led Cat into the living room, and gestured to the table. Cat took a seat and watched as Natasha took out a bag of dog food from one of the cabinets and poured it into a bowl for Taco. Taco leapt on it eagerly.

"Do you have a dog?" Cat asked out of curiosity.

"No."

"Why do you have dog food?"

She shrugged. "Why not?"

Cat took that as a good enough answer. Natasha wordlessly passed her a box of Chinese takeout. The smell of it had been filling up the kitchen. Cat dug in the moment she had it in her hands, feeling impossibly luckier and happier than she had in weeks. She ate like she was starving— probably because she was.

Natasha was silent, watching her as she devoured the takeout. Once Cat had eaten almost half of it, she gently tugged it out of Cat's hands.

"Sorry," Cat said immediately, scooting back in her chair. "I didn't mean to eat so much, I just—"

"Relax," Natasha said. "I'll give it back. You don't want to eat too fast or too much, or you'll throw up."

"Right." Cat took a deep breath. "Thanks."

"Here."

Natasha passed her a mug of steaming brown liquid. For a moment, Cat got excited, thinking it was coffee. When she took a sip and the taste of hot chocolate slammed into her, she wasn't too disappointed. It was surprisingly good. She was mostly glad Natasha had decided to let her in at all.

Cat wrapped her hands around the mug, trying to let the warmth of the room envelope her in its embrace. She relished in the moment, having a warm place to stay, food, and water. She shivered, remembering that it was only temporary and soon she'd have to be back out in the streets.

Cat couldn't take the silence. "Do you live here?" she asked.

"Sometimes," she answered vaguely.

"How did you know I was outside?"

"Like I said, you were making a lot of noise. I didn't think that was possible, considering those walls are about two feet thick."

"You changed your locks," Cat said resentfully.

"It's called a safehouse for a reason," Natasha pointed out. "What would be the point if persistent little orphans like you could break in?"

"I didn't think anyone would be inside."

"And that makes it okay?" Natasha asked pointedly.

"Um… no," Cat said, trying to sound remorseful. "Sorry."

Another bout of silence passed. Cat was trying to think of a way to ask for the takeout back. Her hunger was still rearing its little ugly head inside of her. But Natasha was holding the box just out of arm's reach.

"What happened to your face?"

"Nothing."

"I said, what happened to your face?" Natasha asked again, this time with an edge to her voice. Her eyes had narrowed.

"And I said," Cat fired back, "nothing."

"I gave you food," Natasha pointed out. Cat eyed the takeout box. "I could've left you out there in the cold. The least you could do is give me a straight answer."

Cat bit her lip. That was true. What would be the harm in telling her? Her stomach whined, yearning for the takeout. Still, some part of her didn't want Natasha to know. She stayed silent.

Natasha sensed the shift in her silence. She pushed the takeout box toward Cat, just a little. Cat reached for it, but then Natasha pulled it away. Cat looked up at Natasha with a mixture of betrayal and confusion. No food?

"Answer the question, and you can have it."

Cat scoffed. "That's not going to work on me."

"We'll see," Natasha said with an infuriating amount of certainty.

Cat worked her jaw. She crossed her arms and leaned back, defiant. Natasha stared back with an equal amount of fierceness. Cat's stomach growled painfully. It was loud enough so that even Natasha heard. She raised her eyebrows. Then, the smell of the takeout got to Cat.

"I tripped."

"You tripped."

"Yes."

"Try again."

"Fine. I got mugged." Cat lunged for the takeout box.

Natasha held it just out of reach, again. "Excuse me?"

"You're excused."

"Who mugged you?"

"How do you expect me to know? They weren't keen on doing icebreakers, and there wasn't enough time for me to run a facial recognition program."

"What did they want?"

Cat crossed her arms. "I thought you said I only had to answer one question. This seems like a lot more than one."

Natasha passed the takeout box to her. Cat started eating with a fervor. She was starting to feel a little full, but too full was better than too empty. She'd learned on the streets that she never knew when her next meal was going to be. If overeating to the point of throwing up meant she could spend another night without starving, that was what she was going to do.

Natasha got up and left, then came back with a first aid kit and a bag of frozen peas. She watched Cat wolf down the food with a horrified fascination.

"Slow down. You're scaring me."

Cat made a show of chewing for a long time before swallowing. The food in the takeout box was almost gone. She polished off the last bit, feeling satisfied for the first time in weeks. She started on the hot chocolate next, tipping the mug over until the last drop fell into her mouth.

Finally, she settled back into the chair with a sigh.

Natasha passed her the bag of frozen peas.

Cat stared at the bag of frozen peas. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Put it on your face, idiot."

Cat pressed it to the bruise on her face. She winced. "Ow."

"Don't be a baby. So, what did the muggers want?" Natasha repeated.

Cat sighed, long and drawn-out. Natasha had been awfully nice to her. She was lucky to be in a warm room with hot chocolate and takeout instead of shivering out in the cold. The least she could do was provide her with a little information.

"Money. They saw me give, like, twenty dollars to this Girl Scout, but it was pretty much the last of it. I kept telling them I didn't have any more, but you'd be surprised at how dumb they are."

"I'm not. How did you get away?"

Cat grinned. "Oh, funny story, actually. You know that guy, Spider-Man?"

"Sure. We've met a few times."

Cat gaped at her for a moment, having forgotten that Natasha was the Black Widow. She probably had met Spider-Man before. "You have?"

Natasha shrugged. "He's a good fighter. He's a bit of a talker, but a decent guy. We didn't really do the whole 'getting to know you' thing. We were mostly focused on trying to beat the crap out of Steve and his groupies."

Steve… Cat thought. Who was Captain America. Natasha was on a first name basis with Captain America— obviously— which was so cool.

"Yeah, anyway, Spider-Man swooped in and beat up all the muggers and stuck them on the wall. Then he swung me here. I asked him to autograph all my stuff so I could sell it."

"Hmm." Natasha moved the bag of peas from Cat's eye to see the bruise. "How hurt are you?"

Cat's ribs were aching, but she knew they weren't broken. Maybe bruised. It was mostly her face that was hurting, but the frozen peas had done a good job of numbing the area. "I'm fine. My ribs hurt a little, but—"

Without warning, Natasha reached out and prodded her side. Cat yelped, more shock than hurt, and thrust her hands up in front of her to defend herself.

"Jesus! Could you warn me before you do that?"

"Where does it hurt?" Natasha asked unapologetically.

"Just… like, around here."

Cat stayed stiff as Natasha pressed lightly against her ribs, examining them. "They're just bruised," she told her.

"Yeah, looks like it."

"You know, I could've told you that if you'd just asked instead of prodding me like some kind of lab rat."

Natasha straightened, looking her in the eye. She had an unnerving habit of doing that. Her piercing eyes were impossible to avoid. "So, tell me. What's your plan?"

"My plan?" Cat echoed.

Natasha raised her eyebrows. "Yes. Your plan for living on the streets, finding a job, feeding yourself, making sure you don't die. Unless you don't have one?"

"Of course I have a plan," Cat said, not wanting to admit that she did not, in fact, have any sort of plan. "I'm going to go to homeless shelters and the soup kitchens to get food. And I'm going to get a lot of canned food from pretending to be a Girl Scout. And I'll learn everything I need to know in the library— Don't make that face!"

Natasha's smirk reverted into a suspiciously convincing blank expression. "What face?"

"Like you think I'm some silly little kid who has no idea what she's doing. I'm really good at memorizing things. I could learn everything I need to learn in the library— You're making the face again!"

The second time, Natasha didn't bother to disguise her skepticism. "Yeah, because it's a crappy plan."

"It's not a crappy plan."

"Really? Then why'd you end up here, of all places?"

"Because I—"

"—had nowhere else to go?" Natasha finished.

She took Cat's sulky silence as an affirmation and plowed on.

"You don't have a consistent source of income. How do you expect to pay for things like new clothes, necessities, or literally anything you need to survive? You're also an easy target because you're young and you barely know how to defend yourself. You got mugged, which I promise will not be the worst situation you'll find yourself in, and you only just scraped by."

"I can defend myself," Cat protested. She thought she did a rather good job of fending herself off against the muggers, considering the circumstances. "I have a knife!" She grabbed it from the pocket of her jacket and pointed it at Natasha.

What happened next Cat almost couldn't explain in words. It happened so quickly. In one swift motion, Natasha lunged over the table and did something weird and uncomfortable with her arm, twisting and maneuvering it forcefully so that Cat's shoulder slammed down on the table. Cat glanced up, straining her neck, to see that the knife had made its way into Natasha's grip. It all happened in a matter of seconds. Cat could've blinked and missed it.

"What… the hell," she breathed. Also, ow. Her shoulder.

Natasha released her. Cat grabbed her shoulder, wincing. "Just because you have a knife doesn't mean you can defend yourself." She examined the knife distastefully. "This a kitchen knife."

"That wasn't fair," Cat grumbled. "You're the Black Widow. I stood no chance."

"So? You think a bunch of muggers are gonna go easy on you just because you're a little homeless girl? Haven't you've already learned that?"

Cat crossed her arms. "Okay, I get it. My plan is a crappy plan. It's not like you have a better one."

"Of course I do. I'll take you there myself."

All at once, alarm raced through her. Cat's feet slammed onto the ground. She pushed the chair away from the table with a loud screech and stood up. "You're not taking me to CPS."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "I'm not. Sit down."

Cat lowered herself back in the chair cautiously. "Then where are you going to take me?"

"I own an apartment not far away from here. I barely use it, so you could crash there for the time being."

For several moments, Cat couldn't speak. "W-what?"

"What is it with you and making me repeat myself twice?" Natasha groused. "Did you not hear the first time?"

"I heard," Cat snapped, recovering quickly. "Does it have heating?"

"Yes."

"And a plumbing system?"

"Yes."

"And coffee?"

Natasha frowned. "Of course."

"And Fruit Loops?"

"No."

"Oh."

"I could get some Fruit Loops," Natasha offered.

"Thank you," Cat mumbled, staring into the distance. This was impossible, right? There was no way something this good could happen to her. Her attention snapped back to Natasha, who was still staring at her.

"Why are you helping me?" Cat demanded. "This isn't a trick, is it?"

"Are you always this paranoid?"

"Wouldn't you be?"

"Fair enough," Natasha admitted. "But you just have to trust me."

"I don't trust anyone," Cat said.

Something changed in Natasha's expression. Her eyes were faraway, looking into the distance. "You remind me of myself," she said. "I didn't want to rely on anyone either. But sometimes it's better to have people around you, people who are going to catch you when you fall."

Cat thought it was a bunch of bull. The more people she trusted, the more likely they could hurt or betray her.

"Anyway," Natasha continued briskly, abandoning her dreamy-eyed gaze, "you don't have any other choice. You can choose to go back in the streets and inevitably end up starving, poor, and out of options. Or, you could come with me."

"You promise you won't call CPS?"

"Sure."

That wasn't convincing enough for Cat. "I don't believe you."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "What, you want me to swear on a blood oath or something?"

That gave Cat an idea. She stuck out her pinky finger. "Pinky promise."

Natasha looked down at it. "This is hardly a legally binding contract."

"Pinky promise," Cat insisted. "The most unbreakable of promises."

Natasha linked her pinky with Cat's.

Cat nodded importantly. "The deed is done."

Natasha shook her head, bemused. "You're ridiculous."

Cat got to her feet. "So when are we leaving?"

"Slow down there, Turbo." Natasha got up as well and led her to the couch. Taco had noticed and followed them. "You look like you're about to kneel over. When was the last time you slept?"

When was the last time she'd slept? She honestly couldn't remember. "I don't know."

"Sleep first. Then we'll go."

"Okay," Cat agreed, too tired to argue. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and everything hurt. She just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up. She laid down on the couch, resting her head on the arm rest. Taco jumped up and laid on her chest. It was a lot more comfortable than the chair she'd been tied to the first time she'd been here.

"Hey," she said with her eyes closed.

Natasha's voice came from a little to her left. "What?"

"Can you teach me how you did that knife thing?"

Cat didn't hear Natasha's response, because she was already drifting off to sleep.

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Notes: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think! Also my asks are open so feel free to drop anything there too!