#loved these looks from him I had to draw them

[gf2bellamy]

Hi i was wondering if you could write a fic where bau!reader is cheering spencer on at his baseball game?

softball — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of a guy throwing sort of rude remarks at spence ( just like in the scene ) a/n: i rewatched the scene to write this and omg i forgot how silly it is i love them all so bad theyre literally family ( also i miss blake ) i had so much fun writing this i hope you like it !! <3 ( also i literally know nothing about softball so if anything is wrong i'm vv sorry </3 )

The warm afternoon sun bathed the softball field in golden light. You walked beside the bleachers, your sneakers crunching against the gravel path, with JJ at your side. Her son Henry skipped ahead, his tiny hand clutching hers, his excitement obvious as he pointed at the players warming up on the field.

Ahead, Spencer stood by the chain- link fence, deep in conversation with Derek, who was already dressed in his baseball uniform, adjusting his grip on his glove.

Spencer, in contrast, looked hesitant and nervous.

His eyes darted toward the field, where players were tossing balls and stretching, and you could see the uncertainty written all over his face.

“Hey!” JJ called, drawing their attention. 

Spencer turned, his brows furrowing slightly before his expression shifted into surprise. Practically the entire BAU team was gathered behind you—Hotch, Rossi, Garcia, Alex and even little Jack standing beside Henry. 

“What are you all doing here?” Spencer asked, his voice laced with disbelief. His eyes flickered over each of you.

You stepped forward, grinning up at him as you held out a black cap. “Came to support you, of course.” 

He turned it over in his hands, examining it, before slowly placing it on his head. The cap sat awkwardly over his curls at first, but he adjusted it carefully, pulling it down until it fit snugly.

“There,” you said, tilting your head as you studied him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Now you look the part.”

Spencer huffed out a small, amused breath but didn’t argue. 

Ten minutes later, the game was in full swing. Derek was already at bat, sending the ball flying across the field with a powerful hit. The crowd erupted in cheers as he sprinted toward first base.

You clapped from your seat on the bleachers, sharing an excited glance with JJ. 

You watched as he stepped up to the plate, his movements hesitant as he selected a bat from the rack. He gripped it tightly, his knuckles whitening as he took his position. His stance was awkward, his feet too close together, and he shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other.

Just before the pitcher threw the ball, Spencer turned his head, searching for something—someone. 

His eyes found you. 

You gave him an encouraging look, your lips curving into a soft, reassuring smile as you nodded.

Spencer swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tightened his grip on the bat. He squared his shoulders as he turned back toward the pitcher.

The opposing player wound up and threw the ball.

Spencer swung—and missed. 

You bit your lip, fingers curling around the edge of the bleacher.

It was okay. He just needed to get a feel for it. 

The second pitch came. Spencer adjusted his grip, focused his gaze, and swung. 

Missed again. 

The sound of the bat slicing through empty air was met with a few sympathetic murmurs from the crowd.

You exhaled softly through your nose, feeling a twinge of nervousness for him. You could see the frustration creeping into his posture, the way his shoulders tensed and his jaw tightened.

Rossi, stood up from the bleachers as he clapped his hands together. “It’s all right, kid. You got this. Just keep your eye on the ball.” 

Spencer rolled his shoulders before repositioning himself. The third pitch came. He swung—and missed once more. 

A sharp whistle blew, signaling the end of his turn. Spencer sighed, pushing his hair back under the cap as he stepped away from the plate. 

Time passed, and the game continued. The team erupted in cheers when Derek hit a line drive into the outfield, sprinting around the bases with that signature confidence of his.

You clapped along with everyone else, letting out a light laugh when he slid into home base, grinning like he owned the field. 

Your attention drifted back to Spencer. He stood off to the side, a bat in his hand, tossing it lightly into the air as if trying to distract himself.

Except, instead of landing smoothly in his grip, it fumbled and hit the dirt with a dull thud.

You had to bite your cheek to suppress a laugh, not wanting to embarrass him further. He bent down quickly, picking it up like nothing had happened, his cheeks tinged with pink as he went back into position.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. There was something so endearing about Spencer Reid—genius, FBI profiler, and yet utterly out of his element on a softball field.

You stood up from the bleachers, brushing off your jeans as you made your way over to the chain-link fence that separated the stands from the field. Leaning against it, you called out to him, your voice light and teasing.

“Need a hand with that bat, or are you just practicing your juggling skills?”

Spencer’s head snapped up, his eyes widening slightly as he realized you were watching him. He straightened, brushing a stray curl out of his face as he walked closer to the fence, the bat dangling loosely in his hand.

“I, uh, didn’t realize anyone was paying attention,” he admitted, his voice tinged with embarrassment.

“Oh, I’m paying attention,” you said with a grin, resting your arms on the top of the fence. “And I have to say, your juggling could use a little work. Maybe stick to profiling for now.”

He let out a small, self-conscious laugh, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again. “I’m not exactly cut out for this,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the field. “I mean, I can calculate the trajectory of a ball in my head, but actually hitting it? That’s a whole different story.”

You tilted your head, your smile softening. “Hey, you’re doing better than you think. It’s just a game, Spencer.”

He glanced over at Derek, who was currently showing off with a series of exaggerated practice swings, much to the amusement of the rest of the team. “Yeah, well, Morgan makes it look easy,” Spencer muttered.

“Derek’s had years of practice,” you pointed out. “You’re just starting. Cut yourself some slack.”

Spencer sighed, leaning against the fence on his side so that you were face to face, only the metal links separating you.

Your heart softened. “You don’t have to be good at everything, Spencer. It'’s okay to just have fun.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his brown eyes searching yours as if trying to find some kind of reassurance. Finally, he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Fun, huh? I guess I can try that.”

“That’s the spirit,” you said, reaching through the fence to give his arm a playful nudge. “And hey, if nothing else, you’ve got the best cheering section here. We’re all rooting for you.”

Spencer’s smile widened, and for the first time since the game started, he looked genuinely relaxed. “Thanks,” he said, his voice warm. “That… means a lot.”

Just then, Derek’s voice boomed across the field. “Reid! You’re up again! Stop flirting and get over here!”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink, and he quickly straightened, adjusting his cap. “I, uh, should probably go,” he said, glancing back at you.

You laughed, waving him off. “Go on. Show them what you’ve got.”

Smiling you went back to your seat. When he stepped up to bat, he glanced over at you one more time, and you gave him an exaggerated thumbs-up, earning a small chuckle from him.

JJ, Penelope, and Alex all exchanged knowing glances. 

When Spencer turned his back to get into position, you caught them looking and furrowed your brows. “What?” 

JJ smirked, leaning in slightly. “Oh, nothing.” 

“Absolutely nothing at all,” Penelope added, eyes twinkling. 

Alex just shook her head, biting back a small, amused smile. 

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth blooming in your chest was undeniable. 

And when Spencer stepped up to bat once more, he stole one last glance at you before squaring his stance. His eyes lingered for just a moment, and you could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

But then, from the opposing team’s dugout, someone called out, “This guy can’t hit.”

You frowned, your expression twisting in annoyance.

That was unnecessary.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one who noticed. 

Derek, standing near home plate, lifted a hand and called for a time-out. He turned on his heel and strode toward Spencer, clapping a hand on his shoulder as he leaned in to say something. 

You let out a small breath of relief. 

Rossi, seated just below you on the bleachers, leaned back slightly and smirked. “Shoot him another one of your good luck smiles. Maybe he won’t miss this time.” 

Your eyes narrowed, heat creeping up your neck. “Funny,” you muttered, crossing your arms in an attempt to keep yourself composed. 

Rossi chuckled, clearly enjoying himself, and the rest of the team exchanged knowing glances. 

Derek finally walked back to his position, and Spencer turned around once more—his eyes searching for you almost instinctively. You met his gaze, and despite the slight nervousness still lingering in his stance, you smiled at him, giving him an encouraging nod. 

“There you go,” Rossi muttered under his breath, and you shot him a glare, though it held no real heat. 

You ignored him, keeping your eyes on Spencer as he adjusted his grip on the bat, exhaled, and squared his stance once more. 

The pitcher wound up. 

The ball came flying toward him. 

Spencer swung. 

And missed. 

You bit your lip, fingers curling slightly as you watched him adjust.

The second pitch came. 

Another miss. 

You swallowed hard. You could tell he was getting in his own head. 

And then, just as the pitcher lined up for the third throw, that same player from earlier muttered loud enough for everyone to hear, “This guy’s got nothing.” 

Your head snapped toward him, irritation bubbling up in your chest. Oh, shut up, you thought, resisting the urge to march over there yourself. You shot the player a glare, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care.

Then, the third pitch came. 

For a split second, time seemed to slow. 

Spencer swung— 

Crack! 

The unmistakable sound of the bat making solid contact echoed across the field. 

The ball shot into the air, soaring far past the infield. 

For a second, Spencer just stood there, wide-eyed, almost as if he couldn’t believe it himself. He blinked at the bat in his hands, then at the ball still sailing through the air, as if trying to process what had just happened.

He didn’t move an inch. 

“Spencer, run!” 

Everyone was shouting now—Derek, Rossi, JJ, Penelope,Alex even Hotch. But it was your voice that seemed to snap him out of it. His head jerked in your direction, and when he saw you standing, hands cupped around your mouth as you cheered, something seemed to click. 

He ran. 

Derek was smacking his hands against his knees. “C’mon, kid, move it!” 

Spencer rounded first, then second. The outfielders were still scrambling to recover, and the team’s cheers only grew louder. 

By the time he made it to third, you could see the determination set on his face. His cap had slipped slightly, his curls bouncing with every stride, and his cheeks were flushed from the effort.

“Go, Spencer!” you yelled, clapping wildly. 

The second the opposing team threw the ball toward home plate, Spencer took one final, desperate sprint— 

And then slid. 

It wasn’t the smoothest slide, and judging by the way he grimaced as he skidded across the dirt, it definitely wasn’t something he had ever practiced before. But when the referee threw his arms out and called, “Safe!” the entire BAU team erupted. 

Derek was the first to reach him, pulling Spencer to his feet and clapping him on the back so hard it nearly knocked the wind out of him. “That’s what I’m talking about, kid!” he shouted, his grin wide and proud.

JJ and Penelope were cheering loudly, their voices carrying across the field, while Rossi let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. Even Hotch, who was usually so stoic, was cheering.

But your eyes were on Spencer. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath, but there was a look of pure triumph on his face.

His cap was crooked, his shirt was covered in dirt, and his hair was a complete mess, but he looked happier than you’d seen him in a long time.

When his eyes found yours, he smiled—a real, genuine smile that lit up his entire face. You grinned back at him, giving him a thumbs-up, and he shook his head, laughing softly as he adjusted his cap.

After a few moments, as the team’s cheers began to subside, Spencer finally managed to wiggle free from Derek’s grip, stepping away from the celebratory pit.

His teammates continued to pat him on the back, offering congratulations and words of encouragement, but Spencer’s attention was already drifting.

His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for you.

When he finally spotted you, his expression softened, and a small, almost shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

You walked up to him, your smile growing wider with every step.

Spencer was still slightly breathless, his chest rising and falling with adrenaline , but all he could focus on was you.

The noise of the cheering team, the occasional slap on his back from his teammates—it all faded into the background the moment your arms wrapped around his neck. 

His fingers instinctively tightened around your waist, his grip warm.

“You did great,” you said, your voice full of excitement, as you pulled back slightly, your smile so wide it felt like it could light up the entire field. 

Spencer’s lips parted slightly, his mind struggling to catch up with what was happening. You were so close.

He could see the way your cheeks were slightly flushed—whether from the excitement of the game or something else, he wasn’t sure. 

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

You nodded, smiling brightly. “Yeah.” 

His heart stuttered at the confirmation, at the way you were looking at him like he had genuinely impressed you.

It wasn’t often that Spencer Reid felt cool, but right now, standing here with you, he kind of did. 

The way you were looking at him, your arms still loosely draped around his neck, made him feel like he’d just accomplished something extraordinary—even if it was just a lucky hit in a casual softball game.

“See, pretty boy? Told you you had it in you,” Derek called, clapping him on the shoulder as he walked past, effectively snapping Spencer out of his daze. 

You giggled, finally stepping back, though Spencer hesitated before letting you go.

Garcia practically skipped over, phone in hand. “Oh, don’t mind me, just capturing all these adorable moments,” she teased, wiggling her fingers at her screen. 

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the warmth creeping up your neck. “Garcia…” 

“What? This is gold,” she argued, waving her phone. “The genius hits a home run, and his biggest fan is the first one to congratulate him? I live for this.” 

Spencer, still trying to recover from all of this, rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks burning.

You reached up, gently adjusting his cap.

Your fingers brushed against his forehead, and for a moment, Spencer froze, his breath catching as he looked down at you.

“There,” you said softly, smoothing the brim of the cap. “Now you look like a proper MVP.”

Spencer’s lips parted, but no words came out. He just stared at you, his mind racing as he tried to process the way your touch made him feel.

Rossi, who had been watching from the bleachers with an amused smirk, leaned toward Hotch and muttered, “I give it two months.”

Hotch merely sighed, shaking his head. “They’ll be the last to realize it.”

[natanielkovack]

hii katsuki x shy reader headcannons maybee??

Omg, Yess!!! Thank you for the request, Qyuin! :3

I'm scared of flies... I'm scared of guys...

Katsuki Bakugo x Shy! Reader headcanons ; gn, fluff, comfort.

Ever since the entrance exam, Bakugo didn't pay much attention to you. It wasn't because he was actively ignoring you, you just didn't really talked or participated.

The first time he realized your existence was in the physical testing with Aizawa. It was just a brief moment, but he tried to learn your quirk to somehow beat you in battle.

To him, you were just another extra in the way, another person he had to beat in order to be the N° #1 hero, so he was surprised by your sudden calm and friendly behavior as days passed by.

Of course, he answered with his usual yelling and cursing, telling you to go away and leave him alone. But you never gave up in trying to know him.

Bakugo would secretly keep every detail you give him. At first he would do this with everyone, but as his closet grew full of things he got rid of almost everything... Still, he couldn't get rid of what you gave him.

He would look at you with annoyance when you miss his Monday doodles, silently handing you his notebook for you to draw something small.

At first it feels like a one sided thing... Until you notice how he gives you the bigger portions of the food he cooks for the class, the juiciest parts and the sweetest servings of those cakes Sato bakes.

He knows you're shy, it used to annoy him so much. You would always take so long with talking while handing him something, but now he finds himself looking forward to those clumsy speeches you give.

He's really understanding, but he also understands that you have potential and a lot of it. In class he would tell you to rise your hand when you know the answer, taking your wrist in his hand and raising it for you. It feels like a mini heart attack, but that satisfactory feeling that you answered correctly is so relieving.

He will always follow those with an "I told you so" and a grin before looking back.

Everyone noticed his change in behavior, how he grew sweeter with you. He even knew what you wanted without you even talking... Everyone knew except Bakugo himself and that made everyone so angry at him.

That man is so oblivious to his own feelings.

You can't really tell when your "nervous because of people" turned into "nervous because of Bakugo". Your heart beats faster, you want to be so close to him, you start drawing more hearts and writing sweeter words and oh it makes Bakugo so... Happy?

He thinks that you've somehow infected him with your shyness or something because why else would he blush and feel so warm when you're close? He sees you running away more often, now the letters and drawings just appear in his backpack and he feels his heart missing a beat everytime he sees it.

It takes a few hangouts with the bakusquad before Mina snaps and hits the back of his head, saying "You're more annoying than ever! Can't you see that you like them? Like, you blush and all! Everyone knows! Get a grip!" And he seems to contemplate his whole life while everyone laughs, is that what that was?

He tries talking to you once... Twice... The third time he starts getting angry and there's no fourth time because he decides to do it your way.

His writing is honestly so lovely, a drawing at the end with a heart saying everything he feels. From how he hated you for being like a scared mouse to how he wanted to protect you.

He didn't knew how to look at you the next few days, his eyes darting from you to any other space he could.

When he grows the courage to ask you out you feel like fainting, because why is Thee Bakugo Katsuki asking you out? But you're with him holding hands while walking in the blink of an eye.

He's so sweet and knows when to stop his borderline cruel jokes and comfort you, never judging when you feel so much anxiety for things that are common for others.

He doesn't care that you go speechless when he holds you while watching TV on the common room's couch, it is nice and even you know you'll get used to it... Right?

He cooks for you constantly, he thinks is only fair to give back all you've given him that way.

At first he takes his hand away from yours because of how insecure he is of his sweat, but you just slowly search for his fingers to intertwine yours and the world stops around him.

You slowly grow more comfortable, being more vocal with him about your thoughts and even rambling about nothings. He doesn't ever complain, getting to listen to your voice is such a privilege that he doesn't ever wanna risk losing.

He's so proud to see you growing, working with your shyness instead of against of it, your charm never lost and you're so kind, he could never get tired to see you interacting with the world.

Bakugo makes fun of you from time to time, Joe red you get when he's too close and how your voice lowers when he teases you, you're just too cute, can you blame him?

But he would never be cruel to you, he likes to comfort you. Both of you laying on his bed and hugging, something he would never admit but he loves.

He just loves being around you, you're polar opposites and he can calm down around you while you get more talkative with him.

You're shy, not quiet, at least not around him. And he has learned to be a lot calmer when he's with you, the way his heart beats like crazy balances out that need for constant stress.

A/N: I hope I did good TwT I've read a lot abt Bakugo but I still feel like he's ooc, he's actually really complex! Thanks for requesting, this was so much fun!! (^з^)

Hey! Natan here! ; wanna read more about Bakugo? ; check out my masterlist.

[shuenkio]

Lover Demon — 제이크

Paring: Jake!Demon X M!reader

Synopsis: Summon the wrong type of demon consequences with something you never thought would ever happen.

Genre: Smut without plot. Cw: curse, smau.

Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

Witchcraft is a quiet, curious thing—something that seems to catch only your eye. In a world so full of technology and science, there’s little space left for whispered stories, magic, or the old myths that once felt so real. Those tales have grown faint over time, gently brushed aside by facts and reason, leaving behind a world that’s slowly forgotten how to dream.

Yet you can’t help but gather books on witchcraft—magic, power, rituals, spells, summoning—anything that catches your curiosity, even if most of them are likely just clever tricks for profit. But that doesn’t really matter. It’s enough to quiet your mind, to feel that familiar comfort in studying, in learning about the things that draw you in, no matter how unreal they might seem to others.

The sun sank below the horizon, leaving the sky to rest as a radiant full moon took its place, flooding the earth with silver light. It was the perfect night—the kind you’d been waiting for. Months of study led to this moment, the chance to perform a ritual, to summon a demon that haunted your thoughts. Wishes you’d longed for danced on the edge of possibility. Whether the books were lies or truth didn’t matter. It was worth the risk.

Behind your grandparents’ backyard, surrounded by trees that whispered in the night breeze, lay the perfect place for this ritual. Hidden from prying eyes and safe from interruption, it was the ideal spot to summon the demon that had lingered in your thoughts. Under the full moon’s watchful gaze, the air felt heavy with possibility.

“Finally, I’ve been SUMMONED—” the demon stretched, his body cracking with a sound that echoed through the small, broken-down house. He sighed, clearly relieved to be back in the human world. His glowing eyes scanned the room before landing on you. He blinked, his expression shifting from smug to surprised. “Wait... you’re a guy?” he asked, pointing at you with one sharp claw.

You stood there, clutching the book to your chest, heart pounding as you stared at the towering figure. His horns nearly brushed the ceiling, and his presence filled the room with an aura that made it hard to breathe. You swallowed hard but forced yourself to stand tall. Clearing your throat, you tried to keep your voice steady. “What’s wrong with being a boy?” You scoffed, turning your nose up just a little. “You know damn well you can’t do anything to me since I’m the one who summoned you.” You tried to sound confident, hoping he couldn’t see how your hands were trembling just a bit.

The demon looked at you for a long moment before rolling his eyes. “Ugh, fine. So what do you want? Must be something big if you went through all that trouble.” He crossed his arms, his muscles flexing under his dark skin. “Just so you know, my name’s Jake, and I’m the Demon of Love.” He paused, his face twisting into a scowl. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I know it doesn’t sound all that terrifying, but it’s not what you think. I’m no damn cupid.”

You stared at him, your mind blanking for a moment. Demon of... Love? Your stomach sank as the realization hit you. You’d summoned the wrong demon.

“Uh... hey, so... I think I made a mistake summoning you,” you started, your voice wavering as you tried to keep your composure. “I was... actually looking for a wish demon, not... um... a love demon.” You could feel your face heating up with embarrassment. “So... can you, like... go back by yourself? Or do I have to, uh, do another ritual or something?”

Jake’s glowing red eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable as he stared at you. For a moment, you were convinced he was either furious or just incredibly disappointed, but then he let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Of course. Should’ve known. A rookie,” he muttered, his voice echoing with that eerie double-tone that made your skin crawl.

He crossed his arms, his massive form leaning against the crumbling wall. “You humans never read the fine print, do you?” His eyes roamed over you, lingering just long enough to make you uncomfortable. “Alright, since you’re... kind of handsome and clearly clueless, I’ll tell you the truth. There’s only one way to send me back.”

You waited, holding your breath.

“Mating,” Jake said lazily, as if he were discussing the weather. “Since you’re my summoner, we’d have to... you know, perform a ritual of love. It’s my rule.”

Your jaw dropped, and for a moment, you forgot how to speak. “W-What?” you finally managed, voice cracking in disbelief. “You’re kidding... right?”

Jake just smirked, his sharp teeth gleaming. “Hey, don’t blame me. You summoned the Demon of Love. What did you expect?”

////

Right on the spot, your body was naked where your clothes had been torn into pieces by the love demon. The moment you couldn't even take time to react, that was when it changes to the state that you're in right now, completely butt out and length kiss the cold air. However that's just the beginning, The love demon— shape shift himself into the human version of his, in order to intimate the rule he just spit, for a better saying was to FUCK Jake to send him back.

A flash red light flickering, before Jake stands proud in front of you with his exposed flesh. His build masculine body makes you question whether this is a reward or a punishment? Not to mention in detail was that— even though Jake was a demon, he understood the human need... A bit all too well for how lustful they are in bed, and he isn't any better from humans, Jake likes it more than they ever would.

The 12 inches cock hanging between his legs, the balls are covered in a heavy skin stretching like a cauliflower. Jake's tense thighs only to fuel your desire to just kneel right there before him and begging for his to fuck your brain out of you.

Yet you made no move. In a blink of an eyes you find yourself on the red comfortable mistress to the unknown, the dark absorbed any surrounded which all you see is blank plain ancient walls around.

Jake wastes no time before Lough into your smaller frame which caused you to yelp in a surprise manner. As your back hits the cold bed before his hip enters your closet personal space. Your groin of course. The demon itself tends to know a lot of people's daily life and stuff, nevertheless he doesn't know how to kiss, to intimate more sexual love making, to bond more yet all he knows was to mate and fuck, that's all he's good at.

"If you dare to PUSH me off right now darling, I'll be forever stuck here with you for a century, and boy—I do not care if you have a manhood to make children, i fuck whoever summon ME!" Cool sweat dripping down on your forehead, with a shriek were heard inside the chamber once Jake's enormous largely cock entered the tightness of yours.

For once in his whole life— Jake could finally find pleasure for the first time in humans, resulting in him throwing his head back, goosebumps running down in his vein as his both reds glow eyes disappear into white. The pleasure of his cock burying the inside of your hole alone already turning Jake into a wild animal.

"Holy Demon— mhmm why is it SAUR GOOD I fucking love it, need to BREED with my fucking FERTILIZER SEED ARG" The demon shriek to the undeniable lust he felt in this moment, his growling alluring through your ear drum.

"Unghh... fuck! So goddamn tight...!"

Your eyes turn white of the intense pleasure, my ass hole is too taunt better than a vice, make him fold into two even though he was pounding me just like demon possessed. It was too much for us yet it was too overstimulated for Jake, to hold on to the point he needed something to hold on.

The taller frame grunts and pants harshly, sweat beading on his brow as he struggles to maintain his relentless pace, your incredibly tight hole clenching and fluttering around his pistoning cock like a silken vise. "Shit... M/n... your fucking ass... it's too goddamn tight!"

He snarls through gritted teeth, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

His hips slap against your ass with brutal force, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room along with his animalistic grunts and groans. The couch creaks and shakes beneath you with the force of his thrusts, threatening to topple over.

Jake leans forward, his chest pressing against your back as he tries to find some semblance of stability. His hot, ragged breaths fall against your neck and ear, his lips latching onto your skin to bite and suck. He's quickly losing himself in the tight, wet heat engulfing his cock, his movements becoming more erratic and desperate.

Suddenly, he hilts inside you, grinding his pelvis flush against your ass, his heavy balls slapping lewdly against your taint. He stays there for a moment, just savoring the feeling of being completely sheathed in your clenching channel before he starts rolling his hips, stirring his thick cock around inside you.

His hand snakes around your body, grasping your own weeping erection, squeezing and stroking it in time with his relentless thrusts. "Unghh... fuck... I can feel every throb, every twitch of this greedy little cunt... like it's sucking me in fucking deeper...!" Whimpers sniff painted his face, he's absolutely destroying himself.

He changes the angle of his thrusts slightly, aiming straight for that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside you. With each snap of his hips, he grinds against that spot, determined to make you fall apart on his cock.

The pressure builds rapidly in his heavy, churning balls as he chases his pleasure, his strokes becoming shorter and sharper, his grip on your hips tightening. He's getting close... too fucking close. But he won't stop, not until he's pumped every last drop of his hot, thick seed deep into your guts.

His hips slap against your ass with brutal force, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room along with his animalistic grunts and groans. The bed creaks and shakes beneath you with the force of his thrusts, threatening to topple over.

Jake collapses heavily against your back, his entire body shaking and twitching with the force of his intense orgasm. A guttural, almost feral roar tears from his throat as he empties his aching, overstimulated balls deep inside you, painting your inner walls white with thick ropes of his scalding cum.

His cock jerks and pulses wildly as it pumps what feels like an endless stream of jizz into your spasming hole, the sheer volume of it causing some to leak out around his shaft and drip down onto the couch. He grinds against you, making sure to push his load in as deep as it can go, marking your insides with his essence.

But the overwhelming sensations and the intense pleasure pushing him over the edge also have an unintended consequence. As he's lost in the throes of his release, feeling your body clench and milk his spurting cock, he loses control of another bodily function. A warm, unfamiliar sensation rushes through his shaft, and suddenly, he feels a strong, forceful stream of piss erupting from his cock, mixing with the thick cum already flooding your ass.

Panic rises in his chest as he realizes what's happening, but he's too far gone, too consumed by the all-encompassing pleasure radiating from his core. He can only let out choked, strangled groans as he continues to empty his overstimulated body into yours, the heat of his piss momentarily startling you, even as it washes away the excess cum.

After what feels like an eternity, his release finally starts to taper off, leaving him slumped against your back, both of you coated in sweat and the remnants of his spending. His softening cock, still buried deep inside your cream-filled hole, gives a few last weak pulses, a few last drops of piss and cum dribbling lazily into you.

The man remains in place, his entire body heavy and sated, his breathing slowly returning to a somewhat normal pace after the intense workout. He nuzzles into your neck, pressing soft kisses to your sweat-slicked skin, a rare moment of gentle intimacy. He's utterly spent, but a part of him is still marveling at the incredible tightness of your body, the way it took everything he had to give and then some.

"cum... It's coming...."

Jake could feels the hot spurts of your release splattering against his fingers and your stomach, mixed with the sweat and other fluids already covering both of your bodies. A slow, satisfied smirk spreads across his face, his chest rumbling with a deep, approving groan. "Heh... that's it, M/n... come for me just like the needy little slut you are. I can feel you fucking soaking my hand with it...— I guess I won't fucking leave this human world you're now forever mine— My you"

The slave mark appears on your lower tummy.

A/n: Some part might be confused so I'll left into your imagination. This was inspired by bff of mine— from my famous friend @angelsfat3

Funtalk: Dare to get rail by demon Jake?

[ilyasorokinn]

mic'd up , william nylander

note, a playoff fic in february? who is she?! this fic is part of "the nylander diaries" series. check out this masterlist for more. another note, I was inspired by that video of gavin giroux mic'd upin that one video, and archie debrincat in this video. i love hockey kids guys, what can I say? pair, william nylander x reader summary, leafs fans love the nylander kids, so what better than to have them mic'd up for their dad's playoff games? warnings, kids/children word count, 1564 words

(gif not mine)

"Leafs Nation, my name is Sebastian," Sebastian smiled, proudly showing off his toothless smile.

"Julia!” Julia cheered, clapping her hands.

“And we’re going to be mic’d up for the game,” Sebastian explained.

The next clip showed both kids walking through the underground of the arena in their special denim Nylander jackets, you walking not far behind them, "What're you guys most excited for?" You asked.

"Seeing Papa," Sebastian responded.

"Seeing Carlton," Julia responded.

"You aren't excited to see Papa?" You laughed.

"Carlton." She repeated with a stern nod.

Julia and Sebastian continued to walk down the hallway before they finally made it to the glass. You were earlier than normal, due to the need to get both kids mic'd up.

"What does your sign say, Seb?" You could be heard off camera asking.

Sebastian, with the help of Julia, turned around and showed the camera the sign that had been working on all day, proud smiles on both of their faces, "Go #88" it read, scribbles and drawings from both kids scattered around the poster.

The cameras followed the siblings down the tunnel, filming all their interactions, before they finally made it to the glass, "That's where Papa is going to come out of." Sebastian pointed to the opposite side of the ice where the tunnel was.

Eventually, Julia got tired of standing and wanted to be held, so she turned to you and raised her arms up. You smiled, picking her up and sitting her on your hip, "Are you gonna cheer really loud for Papa?" You asked, kissing her cheek.

"Hmm-mm." She nodded, distracted, "I want fries." She whined.

You and Arynne, who had been conversing before Julia came over, laughed, "Alright, after warmies, we'll get fries, alright?" You reassured her. You and Arynne somehow distracted her long enough for the lights to turn on, and the crowd started cheering, a sign that their Leafs were coming out.

"Papa, Papa!" Sebastian muttered to himself, his eyes moving around the ice trying to find his dad, "Where's Papa?" Sebastian whined, looking up at you.

"Hold on, I don't think he's out yet." You told him, watching the entrance, trying to find number 88, "Wait, look, there he is!" You pointed, and Sebastian quickly looked back out onto the ice.

"Papa!" He cheered, jumping up and down. William took a full lap around the ice, getting acclimated before he finally spotted you and the kids.

He tossed a few fans a puck before making his way over to the family section where Sebastian and Julia were waiting for him. Julia wiggled in your arms when she saw Will skating over.

"All right," You set her down, bending down to their level so you could really see their faces, "Who's that, guys?"

"Papa!" They both cheered. From the other side of the glass, Will waved, the biggest smile on his face. He blew them kisses before reaching through the photo hold and handing the attendant who was there a few pucks. The man then handed them to Sebastian and Julia, who both smiled happily.

"Can you say 'Go Papa!', Juju?" You asked, shaking her shoulders. She slapped her hand on the glass when he put his gloved hand to the other side.

Eventually, warmies ended and, with one kid on your hip and the other kid walking alongside you, you were on your way to your seats, "Are you excited, Seb?" You asked, looking down at him as you walked through the tunnels.

"Uh-huh." He nodded, "Can you hold my hand, mama?" He asked, reaching up for your hand.

"Of course," You clasped your hand through his, "Do you want to see Papa after the game?" He nodded again, "All right, we'll go down to see him after, too."

"Fries, mama" Julia repeated the same words she had said earlier.

"All right, we'll go to our seats, then we'll get fries."

You left Sebastian at your seat in the care of Steph while you and Julia went to get dinner. You knew from an early age, that Sebastian was going to be a hockey player. He loved to watch the games on TV, he would watch film with Will, he had gone to practice with Will a few times, and when you were at games, he wouldn't look anywhere but the ice.

"Did you see your dad, Seb?" Steph asked him, slipping his water bottle back into his backpack.

"Yeah, and he gave me a puck!" Steph gasped when Sebastian showed her the puck.

"Wow, that's so cool!" Steph cooed, her eyes wide as she examined the puck, "Did he see your sign, too?"

"Yeah." Sebastian's eyes were glued to the ice as the Zambonis drove across the ice, "I want to ride the Zamboni." He stated.

"You do?" Sebastian nodded, "All right, let's talk to your mom first." You came back with Julia, who was happily munching on her french fries, and Steph filled you in on what Sebastian had said.

In turn, you shot Will a message, asking if he could get Sebastian on the Zamboni. He worked his William Nylander magic, and Sebastian had gotten his wish and was going to ride the Zamboni during the second period.

The game started, and all throughout the first period, Sebastian and Julia were in and out of their seats. At one point, Sebastian was even standing on top of his seat, and shouting "Go, Papa!" as loud as he could.

"Do you see who has the puck, Juju?" You looked over at Julia who was still happily munching on her, now cold, fries.

"Papa." She giggled.

"That's right." You kissed her head, a smile on your face as you looked over at Sebastian, who looked like he was way more into it than his sister.

A few minutes before the end of the first period, an usher came up and told you you'd have to down to ice level. So, you left Julia with her favorite aunt, Auntie Steph, and made your way down to ice level.

Once you made it down to ice level, Sebastian took everything in, and you couldn't help but smile at his reaction. Her eyes were wide and his mouth was open.

"Are you excited, buddy?" You laughed.

"Yeah." He wasn't even looking at you when he talked, "Zamboni?"

"Yeah, you're gonna ride the Zamboni." You nodded, "And you're gonna get to wave to everyone."

"Yeah." He nodded again, but his eyes were glazed over as he watched the game. The timer ran down to zero, and you lifted Sebastian up into the seat next to the driver.

"Look, there's Papa." You grabbed his attention and pointed over to the bench. Each of the guys made their way off the ice, but not Will. He stayed seated on the bench, his phone in hand.

"Papa!" He shouted, waving. Will was watching the entrance like a hawk, and waved back, taking a picture of him.

You waved as the Zamboni made its way onto the ice, and watched with a smile on your face as Sebastian waved to everyone he could. The Zamboni finally passed the bench, and Sebastian waved like crazy.

"Papa, I'm on a Zamboni!" He shouted.

"I can see that." Will laughed, holding his phone up to record the moment. Sebastian smiled and continued to wave to everyone.

After the Zamboni had gone over the whole rink, you made your way back up to your seats, "Did you see me, Auntie Steph?! I waved up at you and Juju." Sebastian jumped around.

"I did!" Steph laughed, "I waved back."

"I didn't see that." He admitted guiltily, "But I waved really big." He stated.

The rest of the game continued on the same as the first period. Sebastian cheered for every goal, regardless of who scored, and Julia slept soundly in Steph's arms, her beanie replaced with a pair of headphones with a giant 'JN' on one ear and an '88' on the other.

After the game, while Steph carried Julia down to the locker room, you carried Sebastian who was slowly losing steam, "Tired," He muttered.

"I know, but Papa's almost out." You reassured him, running a hand up and down his back. The guys started coming out, but when Will came out, Sebastian's attention shifted from you to his dad.

"Papa!" He cheered, wiggling in your arms, and you set him down, watching him run over to Will, who picked him up and kissed his head.

"Hi, bud." Will laughed, "Did you have fun tonight?"

"Yeah." He nodded, "I rode the Zamboni." Sebastian stated, seemingly forgetting that he had waved to his dad while riding past. He let out a yawn, rubbing his eyes.

"Today was long. Let's get you home, bud." Will kissed his head again, grabbing his bag before making his way over to you. He smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

Steph was greeting Mitch, Julia still in her arms, "She had fun, too." Steph joked, "Fell asleep halfway through the second."

"A new record." Will joked, "Before we go tho, we have to say goodbye to all your fans, Seb."

Sebastian barely lifted his head off of Will's shoulder as he looked at the camera that had been following him the whole night, "Bye, Leafs Nation." He waved.

"Julia says "bye" too." Will joked, waving her little hand at the camera.

-

my taglist: @lam-ila @2manytabsopen @lady-laura-speaks @laurenairay @kolsmikaelson @bowen-power @kidlnthedark @fallinallincurls @boqvistsbabe @sc87 @iwantahockeyhimbo @lifeofpriya @nylwnder @cixrosie @mitch-slap

add yourself to my taglist!

[salemsinss]

18+ MDNI reader is GN but there are some feminine terms. Not edited or proof read

Part one Gardener!SimonRiley x Oldmoney!Reader

PrivateChef!Price x Oldmoney!Reader

(TW: creampie, breedingkink, jealousy, masturbation, overstimulation, all of these are vague if you read deep into it)

AN: I was not expecting the amount of love my first post got so thank you so much（≧∇≦）

also currently suffering from a UTI, and when I told my partner he was like you have an std 😭 I told him to kys immediately after men are dumb guys (and I chose this voluntarily…)

Anyway wish me luck with my UTI

Oldmoney!Reader like to happily spend their time at home being a couch potato, they already have enough money to put them and the next three generations through life some would they waste their time working when they can take up any hobby they can imagine

Oldmoney!Reader always finding the most unique recipes on TikTok or Instagram and spamming PrivateChef!Prices inbox on all the apps and even iMessage

PrivateChef!Price who doesn’t live on the manors land like the rest of the staff but actually commutes daily to come to readers home, prep food, cook for them, them return to his own home

PrivateChef!Price who does as best as he can to recreate the recipes reader sends him, making sure to do at least one a week, writing down the ones reader likes more and keeping them in a little note pad he tucks away in his apron.

PrivateChef!Price going far beyond readers expectations with every new recipe he tries and convinces the picky eaters that reader is to eat.

Oldmoney!Reader always looking at the new dishes like they are poisonous and vile, wonder just what they where about to eat rather than having price make them their comfort foods

Oldmoney!Reader who likes to invade prices kitchen and sometimes even kick him out so they can make snacks for Gardener!SimonRiley

PrivateChef!Price who is insanely jealous of the brew chemistry between Oldmoney!Reader and Gardener!SimonRiley

PrivateChef!Price trying to find a way to bend reader over the kitchen counter and take them right then and there but has to snap out of his thoughts to not burn the dish he was working on

PrivateChef!Price a food connoisseur but he can’t help but wonder just good reader would taste laying half naked on the kitchen island, back arched as he ate your cunt like it was the most perfect meal he’s ever eaten

PrivateChef!Price watching reader stumble back into the kitchen after seeing both reader and Gardener!SimonRiley disappear into the garden shed for a while, and reader comes into the kitchen clearly having just been fucked

PrivateChef!Price who has words to say to Gardener!SimonRiley, nothing nice of course because Simon got to his bird first when he had been planning and planning just how he would take the most private of reader as his own

PrivateChef!Price having to leave early the day you and Gardener!SimonRiley get freaky disappeared into the garden shed so he calm his own nerves and not kill the other man, but got the hard on he got strains so tightly in his pants as he saw you walk back into the kitchen also made him have to excuse himself

PrivateChef!Price masturbating to the thought of how fucked out you would look from you taking every part of him, picturing how many orgasms he could probably draw from you within a night, while he ate out your cunt, delved his fingers Into you to stretch out your tight pretty cunt, flicking at your clit while pressing on that soft gummy spot deep inside you before he’s spitting on his cock and slipping it between your folds to lube it up before making you take him inch by inch.

PrivateChef!Price cumming so quickly into his own palm but wishing it was deep inside your cunt so he could see you so full of him cum as he fucks it right back into you until that white ring is forming around the base of his cock, and your crying from overstimulation and too many orgasms to count on one hand

[bunny-jpeg]

domino dancing - kimi r. it was meant to be fun. he was retired now, he could afford to spend a little more time with you. after all, you had been an obedient little pet for him. the forty-two year old only recently made enough time in his schedule for a little play thing. something to warm the iceman. and while you were a good deal younger, he didn't mind. he could easily keep up with someone your age. you hissed through your teeth as his hand brushed your upper thigh. this was supposed to be fun.

"kimi."

"shh, you don't want them to stare do you?"

you didn't call him daddy, while his title had the word in it. he preferred if you were to give him the illusion of an equal partnership. you let him finish inside of you and you get drunk as hell on his boat while you wear the expensive items he gave you. it was simple, not need to call of daddy. you screaming his name when he made you cum was more than enough for him. what was supposed to be a week away in the islands, but kimi couldn't handle a minute without his hand on your body. your skin warmed and tinted from the bright sunshine. it didn't help that the place had an unlimited drink bar, so the two of you had been happily indulging in sun, liquor and sex. the issue was that, when kimi had a few too many sweet drinks in his system, he wanted to feel what he owned.- it didn't help that you liked when he spoke that way about you.

he did really own you in a way. the gold bracelets around your wrists, the diamonds in your ears, the tight white bikini you wore, all were purchased with kimi's well loved credit card. so as he placed you against his chest on the lounging beach chair, his hands got bold.

you kissed him on the lips and you held his jaw. you moaned a little bit and he made a small "tsk" noise. when he broke the kiss and looked down at you, his fingers skated across your inner thigh. his gaze was piercing. it made something flutter in your core. you looked at him, and waited for his next move. he kissed your jaw and said lowly, "be a good girl, and put that towel over us. i don't want them to see what belongings to me. they might get the wrong idea, because you're not a whore, right? you're my good girl?" and you nodded in response, of course you'd listen to kimi. you pulled the towel over the both of you and laid your head on his chest once more.

he said lowly to you, "close your eyes." he pulled his book up from the table and looked towards it, facing away from you as his other hand traveled further down your legs. skillful with his fingers like he was on the track. he looked inconspicuous as he pretended to read while his fingers got past your bikini bottoms. he stroked your pussy, the short hairs under his fingers before he shifted a little further to insert his fingers into you. you tensed up and reached for his wrist. he shushed you, "no, no, angel. you don't want an audience tonight. you told me the other night about anxiety you have when giving a presentation. i bet you don't want people to watch me finger-fuck you." his words made you shudder as he started to pleasure you. your toes curled under the towel as he pumped his fingers into you.

you rested against his chest and felt the pleasure begin to work through your body. this felt scandalous, your older lover's fingers moved in and out of your achy slit. as if he hadn't been working your sex since you arrived at the resort. you tensed up a little bit and splayed a hand out on his strong chest. this was his idea of fun. finger fucking you while other patrons of the beach enjoyed their day out in the sun. it was rather arousing, it made you excited all over. the hard part was staying quiet against him. not to draw attention to yourself. your stomach flipped and the warmth of pleasure coursed through you. you whimpered and kimi tilted his head away from his book to kiss you on the top of the head. he whispered, "behave." his tone made your shiver, your hard nipples poked at the fabric of your bikini. you swallowed back any loud noises and said, "kimi, please." and his pace only quickened.

that was the thing about kimi. he loved to put you to work.

his fingers felt quite well in your cunt as he tried to make sure that you didn't draw too much attention to yourself. he was aroused by the feeling of your slick cunt taking his fingers so well. you were soft to his touch. he could fondly remember this morning before breakfast when you could barely get out of the hotel room before kimi had him pressed up against the front door to fuck you in your sundress. he said to you as he pushed your panties down like a hungry dog, "own this dress, own these panties, own this pussy." and you weren't going to complain. not when he made you cum before you had your morning coffee.

now on the beach chair, his hand on you. he said softly, "need that hand back soon, need to turn the page. i'd rather not the pages soaked." his words were so casual, as if he wasn't painfully erect in his swim trunks. you exhaled deeply against his chest and felt the continued pleasure through your body. it was an immaculate feeling. you couldn't put it into words. you cursed against him and felt the flutter of want in your body. you loved it. you said softly against his warmed skin, "please, kimi. i'm not going to last longer." your thighs clenched around his hand, it felt good. not even his cock and you were still a near mess. damn him, and damn him for being able to keep his composure while he fingered you on the beach. you wanted a vacation, and he wanted your sweet pussy. he sharply exhaled before he put his book down and turned a little to throw his other arm over you. he kept you in a protective hold as he quickly fingers you. he watched your come apart under his icy gaze. he cursed under his breath as he kept his digits in you while you orgasmed.

he watched how beautifully you came apart. and despite the intense feeling, you managed to keep quiet with your head buried in his chest. he held you tightly and knew that you'd be back in the hotel room soon leaving you a total mess on the bed. as you came down from your sexual high and relaxed against him. he palmed his erection under the towel and said, "see, we can have fun. now why don't we get out of the sun. i don't want you to get sick." his words were tempting like a sugary sweetness. but you knew that the ache in your hips would extend far past the holiday. because you may get out of the sun, but the heat would linger while kimi had your legs over his shoulders. <3

a/n: i thought about kimi too hard... sorry, it'll happen again

[cowboyshadows]

Soap having a big fat crush on his married professor. (There’s no infidelity in this.)

Soap fucked up. Big time. He sits in Price’s office like a puppy who got caught breaking the vase.

He hasn’t messed up this monumentally since he was a rookie. The bastard rigged C4 too close to a flock of sheep. Thought it’d be cool, didn’t he?

Sent the whole lot of them flying. Accidentally caused a wool-based apocalypse.

He’s also never seen Price this upset. His mouth is hidden in the foliage of his beard. His eyes are down turned. His hands flex around his lighter and cigar.

Soap slinks back in his seat, exhaling loudly.

“You need a refresher,” Price says, quietly. Like he’s dropped a bomb. Ironic.

“Wha’?”

“Yer goin’ back to school, MacTavish.”

And that was that. Made him take a satchel with a spiral bound notebook and a pen, the old man. Highlighters and sticky notes. Like he’s actually gonna stand to gain anything from this shite.

Drags his feet begrudgingly to the lecture hall his class is in. Molecular Dynamics of High-Explosive Compounds. He wishes someone would have placed a C4 too close to him, right about now.

Picks a seat right at the back. He’d have expected it to be less available than it actually is, but most of the students occupy the first four rows of benches. Crosses his arms, draws his hat low: he’s ready to hate every second of this. Some old man with a greying bear and shiny head is gonna come in and tell him about bombs he’s never used. What a fuckin’ waste o—

“Sorry I’m late,” you rattle off, walking into the class room. He leans forward to get a better look at you. You’re wearing jeans and a t-shirt that says Hotter than a Combustion Reaction. Thick-rimmed glasses perched atop your head, hair whipped back into a tidy updo. “Had to stop my husband from lighting the stove with a cigar again.”

What the fuck?

“Anyway,” you say, clapping your hands. “Welcome to explosions 101. Alternatively,” your mouth curls in a coy smile, “Why We Don’t Freehand C4 Ratios.” It feels pointed. Unnecessary. He pulls the hat lower on his face.

You chuckle then, along with the class. “We have a very special guest in our midst today, that’s right. A demolitions expert from the SAS, actually.” You look around the class. “Sergeant MacTavish? I promise not to ridicule you.” Another laugh.

He raises his hand cautiously, and all the students turn to look at him. Your face softens in a familiar grin. “We’re glad to have ya, sergeant.”

He feels the blood rush beneath his cheeks.

So, in theory, does he have a crush on his professor? No. No, he doesn’t. This is a stupid punishment Price gave him, and all he has to do is soldier through it. Like a soldier.

But in practice… yeah. Around you, his heart has a velocity to rival an explosive’s detonation velocity.

He’s never gone this all out for school before. He almost understands why all those sleazy college boys swarm you at the end of the lecture, not even letting him slip a glance in edgewise.

He makes notes, diagrams, solves homework religiously. Does your golden problems for the heck of it, just because he wants to hear you say his name and praise him. Asks you questions not because he has a doubt, but because he wants to hear you talk.

He spends most of his afternoons in your office now, your legs resting on your desk as you review his calculations.

Drinking out of your mug that says World’s Okayest Wife. Some ungrateful bastard, your husband is. “My boss has the same mug,” he says, to which you smile.

He might be in love with you.

Price knows, obviously.

“Enjoyin’ the lessons, Johnny?”

“Tha’s classified.”

It’s been a particularly exciting lesson about thermite. He wrote down in his little notebook all the questions he wants to ask you. Right next to the hearts surrounding Mrs. Professor MacTavish.

He waits outside your office for you to finish your lunch, diligently like a lap dog.

Then, out of nowhere, Price shows up.

“Afternoon, Sergeant,” he nods, taking his hat off.

“Ye don’ ‘ave tae pick me up,” he grumbles, “ah’m a grown man.”

He just snorts in response. Whatever that’s about. Price’s hand darts to the doorknob of your office.

“Wait, she doesnae like tae be dist—”

Too late. They’re in the office. Correction: Price is in the office. And he’s beckoning Johnny in like he owns the damn place.

“John!” you chirp, getting out of your seat. You didn’t even get out of your seat for Soap.

“Professor, I trust Johnny’s been a good boy?”

You smile at Soap and he feels his ears turn red. “Only the best.”

“I’m glad,” Price smiles, hand resting on your shoulder. Soap damn near jumps out of his skin.

“Cap, ain’t ya married?” comes perhaps a little too loudly.

Your eyes shoot wider at that, and he feels a strange sense of victory. Threat neutralised.

Silence. Then a beat. Price starts cackling. Bends over with it. “This daft thing.” Leans over and kisses you full on the lips.

Soap sighs. “Cannae let me ‘ave one good thing, Cap.”

[pickingupmymercedes]

The Weight of Saudade - Lewis Hamilton

genre: fluff with hints of angst

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Brazilian!Reader!

wordcount: +1K

a/n: Axé inspired fic because I'm missing Brasil. If you want to check the song it's Nobre Vagabundo sung by Daniela Mercury.

a/n 2: Axé is in iorubá (african language), it means the light in every living being, and it's used in a few parts of Brasil as a greeting. But it's also a brazilian rhythm with some of the most angsty gorgeous lyrics on love, even with its upbeat feel (my favourite cup of tea tbh)

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Time never asks if you’re ready as it goes on.

It just slips through your fingers, quiet and indifferent, moving forward whether you’ve had enough of the moment or not.

Ironically, I’ve spent quite a while thinking about that; how much of my life is spent watching the clock, counting down days until Lewis comes home, then counting down again until he has to leave.

It’s a cruel kind of math, measuring love in stretches of time apart instead of time together.

London is dull this time of year. Grey, drizzly, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and makes you feel like you’ll never be warm again.

Lewis, though, is warmth is human form.

His weight is solid against me, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of my sweater where his head rests on my lap. His braids tickle my fingers as I absently trace circles at the nape of his neck, just over the tape covering his muscles, stiff from testing.

It’s been nearly a month of him in Maranello, and sure, I flew out when I could—weekends, stolen days between meetings—but it wasn’t the same.

I felt it every time I left, the cold settling each time I packed my bag to fly back. And now that he’s finally here, draped across me in the soft, lazy light of a London afternoon, I don’t want to move.

Outside, the rain taps soft against the soil. I watch it run down the glass, curling my toes under the blanket spread over us.

Without even thinking, I start humming, letting a familiar melody slip past my lips.

Lewis shifts slightly, one hand resting on my thigh as his phone buzzes against his palm. He doesn’t say anything at first, just listens, and I’m halfway through the chorus before I feel his fingers slide over mine.

“What’s that you’re singing?” His voice is thick with the sleepiness of finally being back in his own space after too long away.

Damn. I was not prepared for a pop quiz on my own nostalgia

“It’s, uh—” I clear my throat, buying time. How the hell am I supposed to translate this? It’s axé. You don’t explain axé; you feel it. “It’s a song,” I say, extremely helpfully.

Lewis laughs, turning his face slightly so I can see his smirk. “Yeah, babe, I figured that much.” His thumb is still sweeping over my hand, coaxing, patient.

I groan. “I mean, it’s—okay, hold on.” I take a breath. “It’s kind of about time. And love. And—” I make a vague gesture with my free hand— “you know. Life.”

He tilts his head up to look at me. “That’s vague as hell.”

“Because it is vague as hell,” I huff, but he just waits, smiling like he knows I’ll give in. Which, fine. I always do.

I hesitate for a second. Not because I don’t want to tell him, but because some things always sound different when you strip them down to another language.

More vulnerable.

And It’s funny—if I were talking to someone who knew the language, I wouldn’t even have to explain. They’d just get it. But here, with Lewis watching me so intently, I feel like I have to get it exactly right.

“Alright” I shake my head, but my fingers are still in his hair, softening the edges of my reluctance as search the song on my phone and let it play.

I start translating it as the song plays in the background. “How much time do I have… to kill this saudades?”

His brows draw together slightly. “Saudades” He rolls the word around his mouth like he’s tasting it again.

I nod. “My love, this jealousy—it’s just vanity. If you run away, time will soon bring anxiety. To breathe love, aspiring freedom.”

I peek at him, half expecting him to be confused, but he just nods, his expression open. So I go on, the words thick in my throat.

“I have a crazy life… and try to lead the world. I live from deep love. I perish in time. And I live for a second. Forgive me, my love, for being this noble vagabond.’”

Silence stretches between us for a moment, just the hum of the song, rain and the city outside.

And the quietness makes me feel absurdly self-conscious. I mean, I just translated a whole damn song in a overcast London afternoon to a man who knows about 5 words in Portuguese.

Lewis, as always, doesn’t let me sit in it too long. He squeezes my hand gently. “That’s beautiful” he murmurs.

I exhale, rolling my eyes a little, but he doesn’t let me dodge.

“It’s on wanting time to slow down” I say after a moment. “So you can actually be in it. So you don’t have to spend half of it missing what’s not even gone.”

Lewis watches me, his gaze steady in that way that makes me feel like he sees through my ribcage. “Yeah?”

I nod. “It’s one of the many meanings of saudades.”

His lips curve. “One of my favorite words I’ve learned from you.”

I smile, tilting my head. “Yeah, and what’s the second?”

His fingers tighten slightly over mine before answering in the most Rio de Janeiro accent you’ve heard in years. “Gostoso” (hot as in attractively hot)

And you can’t help the chuckle that escapes you as he smirks “Oh, shut up.” I flick his forehead, but he just laughs, eyes crinkling.

His face then softens, and he nods like he gets it. Like it makes perfect sense. “It always gets me how y’all manage to fit the deepest feelings in two paragraphs.”

I laugh, breathy and real, shaking my head. “It’s a skill.”

Lewis’ gaze darkens, his thumb stroking along my skin. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “But I get the feeling.”

I glance down at him, not even letting the words settle before I say them “I’m already with saudades of the time I’ll have to be away from you.”

But as soon as I say it I can’t the sigh, shifting slightly underneath him. “It’s stupid, right? We’re here. You’re home. And I’m still thinking about the next time you’ll have to leave.”

Lewis turns fully onto his back now, looking up at me. “It’s not stupid.” His voice is quiet, firm. “I think about it too.”

I don’t say anything for a second, just run my nails lightly over his scalp. “Ferrari’s making you happy, though,” I say, because it’s true. He’s been buzzing about it for weeks, despite the grueling testing schedule, despite the stress. And I love that for him. I do.

A small smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah. It’s been good. Crazy, but good. The car feels promising. And Maranello’s…” He trails off, exhaling. “It’s a dream, honestly.”

I smile, brushing a braid back from his forehead. “See? Worth it.”

His fingers find mine again. “Yeah. But still.” He lifts our joined hands slightly. “I always feel saudades of being away from you.” His smile tilts. “Did I use that right?”

A soft laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “Almost.” I brush a finger on his cheek. “But the feeling is right.”

Lewis hums, pleased with himself. His other hand slides up, pressing against my ribs, a slow, absentminded caress. “So what do we do about it?”

I sigh theatrically. “Dunno. Run away to Brazil. Hide out somewhere warm.”

His grin is immediate. “Sold.”

I roll my eyes, but his fingers tighten at my side, tugging me down slightly. “I’m serious,” he murmurs, voice lower now, lips brushing just beneath my jaw. “Just me and you, yeah?”

My breath catches for half a second.

God, this man.

I tip my head, letting my nose brush the top of his ear. “Just me and you” I whisper.

Lewis hums in agreement, tracing lazy circles on my wrist with his thumb. Then, after a moment, he tilts his head back at me, smirking “You’re gonna have to translate funk to me one day.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Yeah, not a change.”

I tilt my head, watching the way his lips twitch like he already knows where I’m going with this. “But I can show you.”

He lifts a brow, amused. “Yeah?”

I wink. “Yeah.”

His laugh rumbles against my skin as he sit up and looks at me like a kid who’s been told there’s candy.

The warmth of the moment muffles the biting cold, and for now, just for this moment, it’s more than enough.

_____________________________________________________________

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[tsukisangel]

gossiping with kenma

relationship ꕤ kenma x reader!

cw/tags ꕤ bokuaka mentions, fluff, gossip about friends!

wc ꕤ 636!

a/n: short lil thing while i write my new tsuki x reader fic! super super inspired by a post written by keijicentric! go follow them fr i love seeing their lil drabbles on my feed it's so fun!! @keijicentric i hope you like it and i hope this was okay lol as soon as i read that post i got inspired to write this

you rushed through your apartment, tossing your things on the couch and knocking quickly on your boyfriend’s office door. as soon as he said it was okay to come in, you slammed the door open, grinning excitedly at him. he glanced at you for a second and raised a brow. “what’s up?” he asked. you noticed behind him he was streaming, but he had turned the camera off. 

“you need to mute!” you exclaimed.

“uh, i’m in the middle of a game. can it wait until it’s over?” he asked. you quickly shook your head and he sighed. “hold on, chat.” he muted his microphone, moving one side of his headphones off his ear so he could hear you. the chat was going wild. of course, they were all wondering what was going on and what you could possibly have to say. was it good? was it bad? there were a lot of people asking if you were pregnant or if you guys had gotten married.

little did they know, it was gossip, about you and kenma’s mutual friends. “guess what i heard from kuroo at work today?!” you exclaimed.

“what?” he asked.

you took a deep breath. “akaashi asked bokuto out!” 

he raised a brow. “no. what?” he asked. “i always thought it’d be the other way around.”

“i know!” you grinned wide, sitting on his lap and getting comfortable to tell him everything. “apparently, akaashi had this whole thing planned. he got bokuto to read a book.” kenma snorted. “it was a short manga, but a book nonetheless!”

“he can’t even read a news article without falling asleep.” kenma chuckled.

“but he read it, for akaashi.” you smiled. “which is super romantic! anyway, kuroo said the book had two owls. it was a gray owl and a brown owl. it was about the owls and their story, obviously akaashi and bokuto. bokuto didn’t catch on until the last page, when the brown owl said, um,” you furrowed your brows.

“don’t tell me you forgot.” kenma sighed at you.

“no! i got it! it’s on the tip of my tongue!” he rolled his eyes and you smacked his arm. “oh! so, the brown owl says, while the owls are sitting on a tree branch i think, ‘bokuto-san, i’m in love with you’, and kuroo was told by akaashi that bokuto gave him a look with the widest eyes he’d ever seen!”

“wait, they were together while reading?” kenma asked. he had finished his game and was gently caressing your hands as the two of you gossiped about your friends.

“how do you think he finished it?” you asked.

“right.” kenma chuckled. “carry on.” 

“oh, so, that i love you page was the last page and it was this big drawing, and the owl representing bokuto had an empty speech bubble.” you grinned. “this is the best part!” you squealed. kenma nodded. “so, bokuto had looked up at akaashi with super wide eyes, then he put the book down, leaving akaashi confused of course, went and grabbed a pen, and then wrote in all capital letters, ‘i love you akaashi!’” you squealed once more, and kenma raised his brows. 

“i can’t believe he was smart enough to fill it on.” kenma joked.

“i know! it was so perfect.” you groaned.

“like when i had that game made for you when i proposed?” he asked.

you grinned. “yes!” you said happily. “it was exactly like that!” you hugged him tight. “that’s all.” you kissed his cheek and got off of his lap. “i have to shower.” you unmuted his stream. “bye, chat! have fun! don’t bully him too much!” you sang, and hummed as you walked out, closing the door.

he chuckled, turning his camera on. “don’t ask.” he said to the stream. “none of your business.”

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[band--psycho]

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader- Close Call

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

Another fic based off of what's been coming up on my TikTok feed!

I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Thank you all for the continued support!💛

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Warnings: Smut (Minors DNI), Work situationship/relationship, Secret situationship/relationship, Feelings of love

COD Masterlist / Simon 'Ghost' Riley Masterlist / Join My Taglist

“Si,” you moaned, fisting his black shirt in your hand as he inserted another finger into your already dripping pussy, all while his tongue continued to draw  little circles onto your overly sensitive clit.

Simon pushed his fingers deeper inside of you before looking up to meet your gorgeous watering y/e/c eyes, “Yes, lovie?”

“I need to go,” you pant  out , trying to keep a hold of what little control over yourself you  had. 

You knew coming to his room twenty minutes before training was a bad idea, but you just couldn’t resist the temptation. 

You couldn’t resist him. 

Simon Riley, your lieutenant, your friend, and the man who had made you cum more times in the last few weeks than you’d ever had done with any other man you’d been with. 

And he had certainly distracted you, especially when situations like this arose. 

You were never late to anything, especially training sessions, in fact you were usually at least fifteen minutes early to training to catch up with the other members of the team and the recruits, and your lack of time keeping certainly hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Johnny, Gaz and even Captain Price had all made a comment over the last few weeks about how your time keeping skills had slipped. 

Johnny even mentioned that maybe there was a man you were seeing that was the reason for slip in punctuality. 

Of course you denied this accusation; and Simon, in typical Simon fashion, simply remained quiet, except for teasing you occasionally, so that his friends didn’t suspect that he was the real reason for you  being late. 

He was addictive. 

And no matter how many times you said to yourself that you wouldn’t give into him, you still did. 

“You’ve still got ten minutes,” Simon pointed out, glancing over at his clock before turning his attention completely back to you, or more so, your pussy that he could feel getting slightly tighter around his fingers. 

A clear sign that you were on the brink of your own release.

And after that, he had no intention of letting you go until you’d come undone at least once more. 

“Simon-”

The begging tone that laced your voice as your hips slowly rose off the bed, made Simon want nothing more than to keep you here, on his bed, desperate and begging just like this. 

It was one of the most beautiful sights he’d seen in a long time.

The pace of his fingers quickened; drawing  the hottest moans from your lips. 

“Careful lovie, or you’re gonna add fuel to what Johnnys been saying,” Simon chuckled, sending a soft vibration throughout your pussy; and that was enough. 

Enough to push you completely over the edge; soaking Simon’s hand in the process, thankfully your moan, or more so your orgasmic scream, was muffled by a nearby pillow you’d grabbed. 

~~~~~

After Simon had made you come undone again, he decided to grant you a few brief minutes of bliss before you had to rush off to training, armed with another excuse for her near-tardiness. 

“Wish you could stay,” Simon admitted, lifting his mask up slightly so that he could place a delicate kiss on the side of your head. 

It was true, he wanted nothing more than to just stay like this, with you.

But you had a job to do.

And so did he. 

“I can’t be late again,” you reminded him, kissing his cheek before you slipped out of his arms and quickly changed into your uniform. 

You were about to leave when there was a knock at Simon’s door. 

You turned and looked at Simon, fear evident in your eyes. Though there was no fear in Simon’s eyes; he looked calm and collected, as always. 

He rose from the bed and walked towards the door; stopping inches away from you.

“Stay quiet,” he whispered authoritatively in her ear,  making a pleasurable feeling wash over you as he lightly pushed you against the wall closest to the door and placed his gloved hand over her mouth.

Was it risky? Yes.

Was it also the only way to make sure no one could possibly see you? Also yes.

Before you could even question what Simon was doing, he opened the door. 

“Hey L.T, have you seen Y/n?”

The sound of Johnny's voice snapped you back to reality. 

Simon knew this, he felt your anxious breath on his hand.

“No, I haven't,” Simon answered simply.

“Dinnae know where the lass is,” Johnny said with a shake of his head, “Price wanted to talk to her.”

“Have you tried the training room?” The masked man suggested, wanting nothing more for Johnny to just go away. 

“Y/n hasn’t been on time for training in weeks,” Johnny remarked with a smirk before walking off down the hall; it’s like he knew something. 

But if he knew; then everyone else would also know by now and that certainly wasn’t the case. 

“That was close,” you muttered, the relief evident in your voice. 

“Best get going before Johnny gets to the training room,” Simon said softly, kissing your forehead before opening the door so you could leave. 

You simply nodded, still caught up in how close of a call that was, to say anything else. 

You quickly ran off down the same hallway that Johnny had gone down; Simon watched you and it was only when you were completely out of vision that he closed his door. 

He knew it wasn’t a good idea to be sleeping with one of his sergeants, but he couldn’t stop, you made him feel a feeling that he thought he’d never feel.

He was falling for you. 

He couldn't tell you, not yet at least; you two hadn’t even gone on a date, he didn’t even know if you felt the same way, but he couldn’t deny it no matter how much he wanted to.....

But one was for certain, if it wasn’t for the fact that he knew you’d get reprimanded for being late to a training session, he would have gotten on his knees, placed your legs on his shoulders and eaten out your pretty pussy until you were cumming all over his tongue and screaming his name once again. 

Tagging:

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[callme-holly]

dallas x reader where reader is sick and dallas takes care of them ‼️ i love your writing sm your my favorite writer

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤 [𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

a/n: sorry for not posting y'all. im back tho !!

The room felt too hot and stuffy, despite the open window just beside your bed and the breeze coming in cool from outside, the curtains swaying gently from side to side. Your cover had been kicked to the floor after much battle, and despite the oppressive heat that washed over you whenever you wrapped it around you, without it you were trembling with cold, your whole body prickling with goosebumps. 

You had been drifting in and out of sleep all morning, and despite your parents' protests, you'd convinced them to go to work and that you'd be fine. Your nose was stuffy, your throat raw and burning, your limbs heavy as lead. You felt miserable; there was no other way to put it. You felt down right miserable. 

You were so exhausted that you weren't even aware of the boy climbing in through your window, not until he landed on the floor with a soft thump followed by a resounding groan. It took a lot of effort to lift your head, to force your eyes open, and for a few seconds, his face was blurred and unfocused.

“Dal?” You mumbled, voice barely audible, scratchy and dry.

“Man, you look rough, doll.” 

You felt your whole body sag in relief, all the pain melting away for a second as he stepped towards you, hovering by the edge of your bed uncomfortably. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing: taking care of people when they needed it most. It just wasn’t his forte, but to see you like this, clearly suffering, it created a strange mix of emotion within him.

“Thanks…” You rasped, letting your head fall back against the pillow, and he merelyhummed in response, pressing the back of his hand to your clammy forehead.

“No problem,” he smirked, watching you for a few seconds. “D’you want anything?” The offer was sweet in a way that was so uniquely him, spoken in a way that, to anyone who didn’t know him, would come across as blunt and heartless… But to you, you knew he cared and that he wanted  to help you.

You shake your head, swallowing thickly and forcing your eyes open once more. Your vision was hazy, swimming with nausea. “Just you.” 

Dallas scoffs quietly, chuckling to himself, but he kicks off his shoes nonetheless, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it over the back of your chair. “You know, you should have called if you felt this bad.”

You fix him with a pointed look, though it is weak and pitiful. “I did call. You didn’t pick up.” 

“Oh, well…” You watched with a semi-amused expression as he struggles to say something that wasn’t an apology. “I’m a busy guy.”

That earns a small, chesty laugh from you, the action drawing a pitiful little cough from you, and you settle into his side with a tired huff. struggled

“Sure…” You sniffle lightly, closing your eyes and letting your body melt. “I hate feeling sick…” 

Dallas hums in a way that sounds almost sincere for him, rubbing your back gently; you’re surprised he’s here, surprised he knew something was wrong. “Yeah. I know. Ain’t nobody like bein’ sick.”

He presses a kiss to the side of your neck, tender and lingering, and you gasp dramatically, pulling away so quick that your head spins.

"Dal! I've got germs, remember!"

He only rolls his eyes in response, giving you a weird look. "what? On your neck? Ain't like I'm kissing ya properly."

"So? You can still catch whatever this is!" You sound almost exaspered, like a tired mother, your voice hoarse and grating, the mere act of talking making your throat burn like hell.

"Calm down, doll. I'm already sick." And with that he gets comfortable, laying down next to you and reaching for the blanket thrown haphazardly over your legs, cocooning yourself inside its warmth. 

You frown, confusion washing over you. "What? You're sick?" 

"Yeah." He drawls, tracing patterns against your skin. "Love sick." 

[moonlight-joy]

Not Yours to Love

MASTERLIST

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary:  Anthony has been your closest friend for years, but when he announces his engagement to another, you realize you might have always wanted him for yourself.

Pairing: Reader/Anthony Bridgerton

You had always believed there were some things in life that were constant.

The warmth of the sun on a crisp morning. The scent of old books in the Bridgerton library. The way Anthony’s laughter—deep, unguarded—made the world feel a little less daunting.

And the way you and he had always belonged to each other, in that quiet, unspoken way.

You had never dared to name it. To do so would have been to disturb the delicate balance you had shared for years. Anthony Bridgerton was your dearest friend. Your fiercest ally. The one who knew your thoughts before you could voice them.

But he had never been yours.

And today, you were reminded of that in the most painful way imaginable.

“The engagement has been settled,” Violet Bridgerton announced with all the grace of a proud mother, her voice carrying over the chatter of the crowded drawing room.

You barely heard the murmurs of congratulations. The clinking of teacups. The delighted exclamations from Lady Bridgerton’s guests.

All you heard was the sharp, deafening crack of your own heart breaking.

Anthony was to be married.

You forced yourself to look at him, to see it for yourself. He was standing tall beside his betrothed—a woman you had known only in passing. A woman who was beautiful, refined, worthy of a Viscountess.

A woman who was not you.

His dark eyes met yours across the room, searching. Something flickered there—something uncertain. But it did not matter.

Because he was no longer yours to know.

You did not cry.

You did not allow yourself such foolish indulgences.

Instead, you smiled when necessary, congratulated him when expected, and kept your voice light, as if your heart was not unraveling thread by thread.

But later that evening, as you walked the Bridgerton estate gardens in solitude, the weight of it pressed against you like a storm.

You had been foolish.

You had never spoken the words aloud, never let yourself believe that Anthony Bridgerton could ever be yours. And yet, deep down, you had always thought—one day.

One day, he would see. One day, he would choose you.

How naive.

“Why do you look as though the world has ended?”

You startled at the sound of his voice, turning to find him standing at the edge of the garden path. The moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face, his expression unreadable.

“I am merely enjoying the fresh air,” you lied.

Anthony studied you in that way he always did—too perceptive, too knowing.

“I thought you would be pleased,” he said, his voice softer than before. “I expected you to scold me for waiting this long to settle down.”

Your lips curled into something that was not quite a smile. “Am I not?”

Something flickered across his face—something like hesitation. And for the first time, it occurred to you that he had expected something different from you today.

A different reaction. A different feeling.

But it was too late.

So you tilted your chin up, your voice even. “She is lovely, Anthony. You will make a fine husband.”

He exhaled, the tension in his posture easing—if only slightly. “It is the right choice,” he murmured.

The right choice.

A sharp ache settled deep in your chest.

Of course, it was.

Anthony had always done what was expected, always shouldered the weight of duty with unwavering resolve. And love—real, reckless love—was not something he allowed himself to indulge in.

Perhaps that was why he had never seen you.

You swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Then I am happy for you.”

You should have left.

You should have walked away before the weight of it crushed you completely.

But you stayed, lingering in the gardens as Anthony hesitated beside you. As if he, too, was waiting for something unsaid.

“Tell me,” he murmured after a long pause, “do you think I will be a good husband?”

The question was like a knife.

You turned to him, searching his face. “Does it matter what I think?”

His jaw tightened. “It always has.”

A bitter smile touched your lips. “Then I will tell you what I think, Anthony.”

You stepped closer, close enough that you could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes.

“I think you have always done what is expected of you,” you whispered. “I think you have spent your entire life making the right choices.”

His breath hitched, but he said nothing.

“And I think,” you continued, voice trembling, “that I was foolish enough to believe, just once, you might have chosen something for yourself.”

The silence between you was deafening.

Anthony’s hands clenched at his sides, his jaw tight, his eyes dark with something unreadable.

“Say it,” he rasped. “If you have something to say, say it now.”

Your throat burned.

But what was the point?

He had made his choice.

And you… you were not his to love.

So you swallowed the words that threatened to spill from your lips.

And instead, you forced one last smile.

“There is nothing left to say.”

Then, before he could stop you—before you lost whatever fragile composure you had left—you turned and walked away.

And this time, Anthony Bridgerton did not follow.

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[ivhmavie]

But I can’t help, falling in love with you

characters: park gyeong seok (player 246), hwang in ho (player 001), kang dae ho (player 388) and hwang jun ho (police).

how would be if the squidgame mens where in love with you

first of all, just a little advice that inglesh its not my first language! be kind

park gyeong seok (player 246)

➴ the MOST romantic of them all

➴ he is a true gentleman. He will practically court you, slowly get to know you and gradually introduce himself into your life. He also wants to give his daughter time to get used to you

➴ made thousands of draws and paintings of you

➴ wouldn't be able to buy jewelry, chocolates or other conventional boyfriend gifts. But would make a bouquet of flowers that he would pick himself, tied in a pretty ribbon and accompanied by a painting of you

➴ would like you to meet his daughter, and would be relieved when she likes you. She would be excited when you visited them and would always ask her dad when she would see you next

➴ always calls you “darling”, and think is It's adorable when you automatically smile when you hear the affectionate name

➴ would be a little shy about it at the beginning

➴ maybe he would be insecure about his conditions, but if you could convince him that you don't care about it then he would be happy and secure in your relationship

➴ would spend some time saving up some money to do something special when I officially asked you to be his girlfriend

➴ something like a small dinner together on the little porch of his house or an afternoon picnic in a park with a beautiful view

➴ gets happy to be able to call you his girlfriend whem he talks about you

hwang in ho (player 001)

➴ would be the most cautious of all, because of his job

➴ he wants to be able to trust you, and when that fear passes, another one follows, your safety is at risk by being involved with him

➴ would find a way to find out more about you, after investigating your life a considerable amount, then he would get closer, little by little

➴ absolutely would love to hear you talking about the things you like, your hobbies, everything

➴ would spend hours watching you talk, he think it's adorable to see your gaze move away as you remember a story from your adolescence or something futile that happened at work

➴ he would like to give you gifts, but would be worried that you would think he was trying to buy your affection

➴ so he would try to do it in a subtle way. The new launch of a makeup brand you mentioned last week, the bag you thought was pretty, things like that

➴ no matter how busy he was, would try to spend some time with you

➴ would schedule a dinner at a luxurious restaurant and have a special night with you to ask you to be your girlfriend

➴ he would do this when they were alone in an intimate moment

➴ he would try to hide his real job from you until you were in a relationship for a long time. He would probably use the excuse of being an heir or something to justify how rich he is

kang dae ho (player 388)

➴ SOOO shy and awkward about it at first

➴ would try to subtly approach you, being a helpful, funny friend who would always be there when you needed them

➴ he would always accompany you wherever you go and on your errands. Do you need someone to take you to the salon? He had nothing to do anyway. Are you going to the doctor to get some tests? You don't have to do this alone

➴ whem he finally took a romantic initiative with you, everything would be planned, down to the smallest details.

➴ not that he's meticulous, but he doesn't want to risk messing it up, and planning everything makes him less nervous

➴ he would buy you flowers, but he would put together the bouquet himself, he thinks that makes the gift more intimate

➴ looks at you with the most adorable eyes ever

➴ you two resemble a typical teenage, youthful and exciting relationship

➴ he would ask his friends for help to plan something for the proposal, he wants it to be perfect

➴ do something at a place you like or that is special to the two of you, like the first restaurant you went to

➴ would give you thousands of nicknames and I would love to tell people about you when you two were official

hwang jun ho (police)

➴ would be confident, and the most natural as you approach each other

➴ he's just so cool, it seems like he always knows what to do, he never seems to get nervous on dates and he always leaves you impressed

➴ even if work keeps him a little busy, he always finds a way to see you. You probably have lunch together during the week

➴ he’s not emotional, but he also hates the "casual" trope, no matter how slowly he takes things he knows what he wants

➴ remembers little things about yourself, your long-time friend who lives far away, your pet who died, your group of friends from high school

➴ he likes to touch your hair, when you are lying together watching television he would stroke it

➴ he would probably give you a gift like a necklace, bracelet or earring at the beginning of your relationship, and he's always happy and smiles when he sees you wearing it.

➴ whem he left work early, he would surprise you by visiting you early and bringing you flowers

➴ he's not the biggest fan of nicknames, but he thinks dear isn't cheesy and is romantic

➴ he would decide to officially ask you to be his girlfriend during a talk about you with someone and realized that no matter how much you acted like boyfriends, he had never made it official

➴ would buy you a beautiful engagement ring, and I would make a point of holding your hand so that it would appear when he introduced you to people

[ann-writes-universes]

Archangel (AzrielxReader) PT. 5

A/N: EEEEK NEW Archangel chapter <3 Hope its everything y'all wanted and possibly more.

W/C: 7.7k ish

Warnings: ANGST, Sorrow, Mentions of death, Mentions of torture and violence (As always let me know if I missed anything!)

Far different were Helion’s meals than that of the Night Court’s inner circle. Gone was the familiarity and quaintness of the River House Dining room. In its place- the finery and revelry of Helion’s “gazebo” (which seemed to be code word for opulent outdoor dining area) fitted with a small string band and a table large enough to dine fourty. 

“I’d say I am surprised- but he has a tendency to do these things…” Azriel leaned down to whisper in your ear as you approached Helion who was standing with his back to the two of you, overlooking the view of his capital city below. 

“Bit of a show off?” You asked, never once taking your eyes off of the High Lord’s wide back, why was it so hot in here?

“You have no idea.” Azriel chuckled, composing his features as Helion turned to face you. He was once more adorning his golden crown, though-  he had changed into a white tunic and pants. With the sun setting behind him he was haloed by oranges and pinks so divine you weren't sure Feyre could even capture the beauty of his silhouette with her finest paints and brushes.  If angels had existed and could be present, this is what they would have looked like you decided-  beautiful, serene. 

Striding forward he stopped only feet before you, bending at the waist to bow and offer you a hand. His motion shuddered, and his eyes fell to the intertwined fingers of you and Azriel’s joined hands. A glimmering light flashed across the High Lord’s eyes and he raised his gaze to Azriel who stiffened briefly. Some unspoken words were shared between the males and Helion smiled slightly, relenting and drawing his hand back to his own space. You glanced at Azriel who only nodded and released his hold on your hand. 

“You look lovely, (Y/N).” Helion spoke, his voice soft and wholly honest as he drank in your face. “I had heard you became fae but I didnt realize…” Hiz gaze trained on Azriel once more, and the Spymaster cleared his throat. 

“That you had become a part of the Night court.” Helion finished, his tone clipped and his brows raised. You bussied your hands with the skirts of your dress and swallowed. 

“I wouldn't say that.” You replied, finding Helion’s gaze and forcing the High lord to hold it as you spoke, “I’ve been taken in by them for the time being it seems.” 

With a guarded expression Helion only hummed in acknowledgement of the statement, “I see..” Motioning towards the table, now laden with steaming food, the lord of day pulled your chair out for you. 

Once your trio was seated and dining quietly you began to pry, “What makes you think I have joined their court, High Lord?” You purred, filling your glass with a shimmering wine. Azriel looked up from his meal and watched you intensely, his back ramrod straight.

With thoughts clouding his eyes Helion looked briefly to Azriel before shrugging and swallowing a bite of quail, “Your letter was on a piece of parchment with Rhysand’s seal, and now you have arrived with a member of his court.” 

You paled, and Azriel looked up quickly. 

“Letter?” 

“Why yes- (Y/N) sent me a letter re-” 

A bolt of light beneath the table and a poor fae male approaching with another goblet of wine was stumbling and drenching the fine fabric of your dress in the dark liquid. You screeched and jumped from your seat, staring down wide eyed as though you hadn't caused the mess yourself. 

Both males leaned forward in their seats, Helion offering the young servant some harsh words before he was standing to offer you napkins and aid. 

“Really- its alright!” You laughed loosely, praying that Azriel would drop the letter Helion had mentioned. Waving him off you sat back in your seat and glanced at the spymaster, his eyes were trained on the table and judging from the ticking in his jaw you were sure he would bring it up again later. 

“My apologies, the younger ones can be clumsy.” Helion grit out, eyes trained on the path that poor male had taken. You made a mental note to check on the kid later, find a way to apologize for whatever punishment he endured. 

You smiled lightly and only shrugged it off, continuing to eat. They had fallen for it- completely forgotten the conversation being held previously. 

The rest of the dinner flowed easily, the males talked of stories long past and Helion steered the conversation away from anything pertaining to Amarantha or the Mountain. You were grateful, and fell easily into fanciful conversation about nothing important. By the time the hour long meal had ended you were warm from the wine and aching at the sides from laughter. Even Azriel- passive a always- was smiling and had relaxed into his seat a fraction. 

“May I abhor you for a walk through the garden?” Helion spoke as the three of you stood to part ways. Azriel stared at you pensively, but the anger brewing beneath his amber eyes only spurred your wine hazed mind further. 

“Of course.” 

~

If Helion’s gardens had been magical during the day, they were absolutely enchanting at night. The soft song of the birds had faded away into a symphony of crickets and toads alike- and jasmine thick and strong permeated the warm air. Spring here was much different from the Night Court- as though the world here had clung to every inch of warmth from the sun in order to banish the creeping tendrils of last winter’s chill. 

You strolled beside Helion, his hands ever clasped behind his back and his golden eyes trained on the cobbled path before you. He was deep in thought- rummaging through the list of questions he had no doubt. 

After several minutes of silence it seemed he stumbled upon one that suited him and he cocked his head to the side as you walked, “So where does knocking my servant to the ground come into these elusive powers you wrote to me about?” 

A blush, crimson and hot creeped up your chest and rested firmly upon your cheeks, “I thought the young ones were clumsy?”

Helion smiled and hummed “Ah- yes. They are but Dorian is two hundred years old (y/n), and has served  me well for the past 150. Never once has he faltered and drenched my guests in wine.” He motioned to the stain that had taken residence on your dress, and with a snap of his fingers and a knowing look- it was gone. 

“You caught me.” 

His brows furrowed and he stopped momentarily to study a particularly colorful zinnia bush, “Why did you not tell Azriel you wrote to me?” He spoke, not turning his gaze away from the blushing petals. 

“I didnt tell any of them I wrote to you.”

“Why not?” 

You moved away from him then, continued strolling slowly down the path, hyper aware that he had once more begun to follow a few paces behind you. The whisper of your skirts on the stone below called him forward, the high lord only stopping when you took a seat on a bench lining the path. 

“Because I did not want them to know I was seeking answers, Helion.” You admitted finally, watching him as he came to a stop, opting to stand and watch you ponder. “They are keeping things from me- things about myself, my ability that could be useful.” 

The lord of day sighed and picked imaginary lint off of his shirt. Raising his hand he summoned a light, strong and bright that cast out the whisper of night and lit up your secret garden with the glow of day. 

“There are things that Rhysand and the others are not telling you- that much is certain.” You nodded at his words, watched that light as it bobbed and danced in his hand, “But they are not keeping anything about your abilities from you.” He finished and tossed the light towards you.

Reaching out a hand you let the light fall into your palm, your own, weaker, light joining it. They danced in your palm, melted into one another like liquid gold. 

“How can you be so certain?” You whispered, transfixed by the scene you held. Helion took a seat beside you and braced himself on his knees, his eyes falling to the lights as well. 

“Because they have no reason to- they know what you are.” He cupped his palm over yours, extinguished his light. The garden once more was cast into darkness until the high Lord lifted his hand. The dim light of your own magic was resting in your palm, humming with energy and life. 

“How can you know that for sure?” You watched it, mulling over that thrum it held. “How can they know if I dont even know myself?”

“Because Beddor, like calls to like.” He flicked the orb with little strength and the light shot into the sky above, with brilliant intensity the night lit up, the orb exploding into a cascade of stars, bright and powerful, miles above your heads. 

You stared at it, trailed the stars as they fell into the world, your jaw was slack and your skin was warm. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Helion- tight lipped and saddened watching you marvel at the scene you had created. 

“The High Lord of Night is not keeping that a secret from you, (y/n).” His voice was a whisper, taut with emotion you could not discern. Your first night here and he was revealing to you more than you had possibly hoped for. 

With tight shoulders Helion stood and dusted his pants, “The answers you seek are closer than you realize. I can help you learn a bit about this gift but I can not tell you what they are keeping from you.” The air was perfumed with the faint smell of ash, barely peaking over the jasmine “Use what you have to your advantage. Give me the week to find what I can.” 

His eyes- his eyes so closely resembled the look they held the night he watched you crumple to the floor beneath the mountain as Clare died. Pain and guilt had etched themselves so deeply into his features that you only closed your lips and nodded. 

“Goodnight, (y/n).” 

“Goodnight, Helion.” And you sat for a moment longer as the High Lord walked down the path, leaving you with the croak of the toads and that small bobbing light you had summoned once more. 

~

“I think you and I need to talk.” Azriel spoke from his spot outside of your room. He leaned against the door, arms crossed over his broad chest. You raised a brow at his words and pushed him out of the way, a motion he allowed. Flinging open the door of your chambers you let it swing wide as you sauntered in, freeing your hair from its pins as you walked. 

“Do we?” You mused, stopping in the small sitting area to drop the pins onto the low table there. He stalked into the room after you, and the slam of your door sent frames shaking and an echo clanging through the room like a symbol. “That was rude.” You muttered, struggling with a particularly nasty pin at the back of your head. 

“What letter was he talking about?” His tone was clipped as he strode forward, knocking your hand out of the way to pull the pin himself. You thanked him quietly as he moved away from you to brace his arms on a velveted chair. 

Shrugging you pulled the laces of your corset, let the dress loosen before you sat down, filling one of the awaiting glasses on your table with wine left by Misae. “I have no clue what you’re talking about. He must have been confused with the letter Rhysand sent in response to his request that I visit.” 

The male scoffed and watched you bring that glass to your lips and drink deeply before pouring yourself another. “Don't play coy with me, Beddor. What letter?” 

You watched as the bubbling wine settled and slid down the sides of your glass- perhaps you had poured too much. The liquid seeped onto your fingers and slid down, down, down. Without looking up you huffed, “What is it you don't want Cassian to tell me?” 

Azriel tilted his head to the side, dark brows furrowing as he watched you. “What are you talking about?” 

You shrugged and drank deeply once more, relishing in the warm fuzz returning from its absence after dinner. “Its a beautiful thing Azriel. To have a gift your court claims to know so little about.”

You summoned that light, let it glint in the space before your face. His shadows rose in reply, curling above his shoulders and settling around his ears. His eyes widened, the shadows pulling close to the tips of his wings, as though they were watching that curious light.

“You're Not the only one with a watchdog, Azriel.” You hummed, eyes trailing up the length of him before settling on his eyes, “What is it you don't want Cassian to tell me?hmm?”

He was staring at you, expression hardly readable as you downed your second glass and stood. You hadn't wanted to confront him, to have that clipped tone in your voice that Rhysand and Azriel used so often to speak to you. But it felt good, felt good to watch him be dumbfounded. 

It could have been the wine that made your shoulders square, or the words you and Helion had shared but you stepped towards him, slid in between his body and the chair before him. 

“What is it that Rhysand thinks im not ready to hear? That Cassian swore not to speak of?” 

He was breathing heavily, staring down at you through dark lashes. Through the open air windows the moon cast long shadows on the plane of his face. 

“Im sure Helion will tell you.” He grit out, dragging his eyes over the scope of your chest before looking to your face once more. 

“Perhaps he will. He’s quite helpful in that department, unlike some people.” You were seething now, ripping away from his gaze and sauntering back to that little table which promised wine. You discarded the glass, opted to grab the bottle and make your way towards the doors leading to the balcony. 

“You want the truth, Beddor?” He called, and when you turned over your shoulder he was still standing by that chair, watching you with a darkened gaze. Turning to face him fully you turned the bottle up and drank, motioning at him with your hand to continue speaking. 

He strode forward and ripped the bottle from your lips, “Enough of this.” He pressed until your back was pressing into the cool glass of the doors, his arms raising to cage you in a cocoon of muscle and membranous wing. 

“They won't tell you because its not their secret to share.” 

“Is it yours to keep, Azriel?” You challenged, even standing ramrod straight you couldn't look him in the eye. His lips thinned and that damn muscle was ticking in his jaw again. You raised a hand, let your index finger smooth over it. He stiffened below your touch and watched you with bated breath. 

“It isn't, is it shadowsinger?” It came out as hardly a whisper. Your jaw was set, posture guarded. You were challenging him and it was making him sloppy. When had a female last tried it with him? Last caused him to rethink his next move?

The wine was warming your blood, clouding your brain. He was so close to you, closer than he had been that night he held you on the townhouse floor. 

“No. No it isnt.” He replied, leaning back slightly. With a final glance he was turning away from you, bringing the bottle of wine to his own lips as he walked back to that chair and dropped heavily into it. 

Despite yourself you sucked in a deep breath in your newfound space, let it clear your head a bit. 

“They were giving me time to find a way to tell you on my own. But then you assumed we were keeping something from you as some form of fucked up leverage.” He spoke, staring at a painting on the wall across from him. You stayed stationary, watched him unravel from beside the door. 

“Truth be told they found out by accident, they all did.” 

“What did they find out, Azriel.” You urged, tired of him dancing around the words. His brows were furrowed and he finished the bottle quickly. Good gods… 

He turned his head to look at you, swallowed thickly at the way the straps of your dress were falling off your shoulders, how mused your hair was, the halo of the moonlight around your disheveled form. 

You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen

He looked away.

“You're my mate, (Y/N).”

The world tilted on its axis, stopped spinning briefly. He chuckled weakly at his own words, dropped his head into his hands. The air in your lungs dissipated entirely. Mates. That word had meant nothing to you two years ago. Hell- it had meant nothing to you until Elain had sobbed in your bedroom all those months ago as she divulged her darkest secrets to you about Lucien. 

“Its a soul tie, (y/n). We are bound to each other because their gods believed it fit. It goes above all law.” 

She had sobbed into your hair. Of course, she had gone into the practicalities, how she could deny him if she so pleased but that denying a bond the other craved often destroyed the mate in question. 

Your head was spinning.

Suddenly, oh so suddenly, you were a small girl laying on the lawn of your family’s hillside manor dreaming of falling in love because you could not because you had to. What was that word he had uttered other than the promise to a life you had not crafted on your own?

You had gone still, a deathly still that had Azriel shifting in his seat and standing slowly. 

“I’ve upset you.” He whispered.

“How long have you known?” You questioned, eyes trained on the floor. He stopped moving, tucked his outstretched hand back into his pants pocket and rubbed his shoe into the ground. 

“Since Hybern.” 

Months.

He had known for months.

“Oh my gods…” 

And you felt it then, a tug in the center of your chest so hard that you fell to your knees on the bedroom floor. It cleaved through your ribs and wrapped around the epicenter of your body, pulling and tugging you towards the master of shadows- But all you could do was wrap your arms around yourself and stare up at him. He was wide eyed and slack jawed, in awe that you had finally felt it. 

“(y/n)-” He started, sinking low to the floor before you as you began to cry. He was far enough away for you to have space, but low enough that you could look him eye to eye. 

He was your friend. He had held you in the town house, built your snowman, spent time with you in the cabin, gotten to know you over the past season of your life. He had defended you against Rhysand, stood up for you. 

It had warmed you to him- knowing that you had a friend, and to learn that it was because of some cosmic bullshit that made him feel like he owned you in some way no one else was allowed to… 

It was all beginning to make sense now. The anger in which he reacted whenever his friends had raised their voices at you, or made a suggestive statement, or Helion walking with you alone. Cassian on the bridge. 

You were drowning and there was no life vest anywhere. Gasping for air you folded in on yourself, watched him fight the urge to surge forward. 

“It was all a lie?” You questioned, more to yourself than him. His frown deepened and he scrambled to explain himself. 

“None of it was a lie.” He caught your eyes, held your gaze with such intensity that you had to look away, “None of it, I swear to you.” 

All will come in due time.

That little voice had whispered to you in Rhysand’s office. You nodded weakly at Azriel’s words, “I need you to leave.” 

“I’ll go to my room if you want that.”

“No-” You shook your head and something like hope sparked in his eyes, “I need you to leave the day court. I’ll spend the rest of my week here with Feyre if I have to have an escort, but I need you to leave.” 

Azriel swallowed thickly and stood, what could he say? There was nothing he could reply with other than a curt nod before he was forcing his feet to take him away from you, and down the hall away from your room. 

As he closed the bedroom door, the lock clicking firmly into place, your body cracked open with a sob- deep and mournful. 

“It is a woman’s greatest honor in life to be chosen as a man’s wife.”

“But mother, what if I do not love him?” Clare whispered as your mother tucked the two of you into your separate beds.

“Love can come with time.” 

You had replayed that conversation in your head since you were seven years old. Thought of it everytime Clare was courted or you observed your parents laughing together. It was always so stiff, so void of small touches and glances that the novels you read deemed love to be- that you decided at an early age you would never become someone's wife just for the sake of being their wife. You’d never wait for love to “come with time”. 

And yet here you were, laying on the cold marble floors of the Day Court sobbing over a mate given to you by gods that had - in your mind - long since been dead. 

Rhysand had been right.

You werent ready, and faintly- some part of you deep down knew you would never be ready to accept it. 

You rolled over on the smooth stone below and watched the moon sink below the horizon to welcome the sun. Too tired to move, you closed your eyes against the glare and hoped that when Misae came to wake you, Azriel would be long gone. 

~

“He’s offering to stay away from you, (y/n).” Helion sighed, rubbing his hands through his braids as he watched you pace. The morning had been fairly uneventful, interrupted only by Helion requesting your presence in the garden. 

“I wanted him gone.” 

He was the picture of exasperation and confusion as he watched you. His large frame was slumped onto a stone bench and the golden crown he so often donned had been swapped with glinting metal jewelry intricately placed in his hair. You stopped to raise a brow at him and rest your hands on your hips. 

“Give him some grace, please, I understand that this is frustrating and new to you but-”

“But nothing.” You cut him off abruptly, “I came here for answers as to what I am and all I have discovered is that I am sworn to a man that I have only known for a few months.” 

Helion’s lips thinned into a line and he leaned back on the bench, you resumed your pacing. Surely by now you had worn a hole in the finely manicured grass below you. The hyacinth you had been clutching was now void of petals, picked clean by your bustling fingers. 

“Look at me.” You did so begrudgingly, stopped that pattern of back and forth to hold his molten gaze. 

“Azriel is fighting off instincts that are engraved into his chemical makeup because you asked him too. I am not saying he should get a pat on the back for doing the bare minimum but I am asking you to understand that not many males would do that.” He stood and gently took your shoulders in his hands, forcing you to turn to him, look at him. 

“Take it from me, Beddor. Loving someone is painful. Loving someone and walking away from them when every part of your being is calling you towards them? It kills you slowly.” 

Despite yourself, you scoffed, “He can not love me, Helion. He hardly knows who I am.” 

“And if he does?”

“He doesn't.” You assured him, turning your eyes to the hip-high hyacinth plant beside you. 

“Do not be so sure.” He was taking his defeat gracefully, released your arms and made to leave, “His entire life has been nothing but the retrieval of information. Do not count out what he knows about you because you are scared he knows too much.” 

He began to disappear down a sunlit path to attend meetings about gods’ knew what. Swallowing thickly you looked to your palm, its usual tint painted a soft pink from how tightly you had gripped the now bald petals. With a great huff you slumped into the bench Helion had claimed moments before. Its stone surface was warm from the morning sun and it was perfectly placed for a view of the Capital city far below the palace. 

Azriel had refused to leave the Day court, yet had promised Helion he would stay away from you until it was time to leave. 

Mates.

The word clanged around your mind like an alarm. 

Do not count out what he knows.

Fine. You would give Helion that much, Azriel most likely did know more about you than you would care to admit. The spymaster had you figured out the night you first dined at the River house, and then pieced the missing parts together during your months spent in the cabin. Painfully, you became aware that you knew absolutely nothing about him. You had taken the time to relearn who you were, yet had not bothered to learn who anyone else around you was. 

You supposed this little hiccup in information was due to the undeniable feeling that you would not stick around them long, as though immortality was some kind of ailment that would be cured and you would be sent back home. 

“Oh…” You whispered softly, to no one but yourself. You chuckled sadly and leaned your head onto the back of the bench, allowing the sun to warm your closed lids. 

There was no home to go back to but the night court, and there was no cure for immortality but death. 

“I want to see the city.” You called after Helion, standing from your spot so quickly you were dizzy. He turned to you with a small smile, checked a golden watch on his wrist, and nodded. 

“I can make that happen.” He replied, and without warning a young man, tanned as the stones you stood on, appeared. “Elandry, I need you to see to it that lady Beddor has a pleasant day in the city.” The young man looked to you, bowed his head with a smile, and nodded to Helion.

The latter approvingly grunted and looked to you once more, “I’ll meet you tonight. I’ll make sure you have the best dinner experience the Day Court has to offer.” 

And then he was gone. 

You shuffled in your place, left with the man before you. 

“I’m (y/n).” You offered as he approached, and the chuckle he emitted was warm, welcoming. 

“I know who you are.” 

His eyes were strikingly green, a color you could not compare to one you had ever seen. Curling tendrils of hair colored like honey dusted the tips of his freckled cheeks and made that hauntingly beautiful green just the more brilliant. 

You nodded at his statement, aware of the heat picking up on your cheeks and chest. Judging from the lingering look he left you with as he turned and began to walk, he had noticed too. 

“Are you going to join me?” He threw over his shoulder. “I wouldn't mind spending my day off alone, but it would be more fun if you came along.” 

You didn't hesitate to follow. 

–

“They’re called Pegasi.” Elandry offered, watching closely as you approached the winged creature. You scoffed, an amused expression that drew a shining smile from the male. 

“I know what they are. We did have books in the human lands, you know?” 

“Yes, but I assumed you knew nothing about magical beasts and creatures.” Elandry replied, standing close as you stroked the nose of a golden mare. She whickered softly, wings stretching widely. 

“Well, you assumed wrongly.” You whispered, amazed at the beauty of the animal before you. It tolerated your touch for moments more before turning and meandering towards its herd standing further behind the fence. “Won’t they just fly away?” You questioned. 

Elandry hummed in reply and moved to lean against the fence, watching the beasts graze and roam, “I suppose if they wanted to, they could. But they have nowhere to go, nor do they have the desire.” He gestured to the expanse around him. “Would you?” 

You looked around then. He had led you to the stables, and they were far from the likes of those you had grown up around. Golden grass stretched tall by the fences, and horses and pegasi alike mingled in small groups. The brilliance of the day warmed the air and buildings made entirely of white stone and gold stretched as far as the eye could see, only giving way to the sea beyond. 

“No.” Your reply was a whisper as you stared into the horizon, “No, I wouldn't.” 

He was watching you curiously, picking at a pampas stem he had plucked from its bush. After a moment's silence he pushed off the fence abruptly. Gently, he grabbed your hand and dragged you along. 

“Come on, the day only lasts so long.” 

~

The ride down to the capitol city was pleasant. The journey was fueled by pleasant conversation and the occasional melodious laugh emitted from either you or your new friend. Elandry had left your horses with a citizen he paid handsomely, and was now leading you through bustling sandstone streets. Vendors crowded the sidewalks, and children played merrily in the street. Elandry pointed out important buildings, and told you the brilliant history of his people and their court. 

Elandry was a son of the previous High Lord’s emissary, and still held significant sway in Helion’s court. He had been under the mountain- a fact he only alluded to, never once spoke aloud, and he was particularly skilled in chess. As you walked and listened to him talk your anger from the night before began to fade. Elandry was easy. His conversation was polite, and he had no problem keeping it up despite your silence. He made you laugh- and on occasion blush a pretty shade of pink. Where Azriel was darkness and silence, Elandry was golden and warm. 

“And what about you?” He suddenly asked, pulling you from your daze. The two of you had sat for lunch outside a small cafe, and he had paused his dinning to point his words to you. “I’ve gone on about myself for far long enough.” 

Smiling lightly, you placed your fork down and folded your arms on the table. Shrugging you stared at him, “What do you want to know?” You inquired, “You know I was human. You know I am not now. You also know that I was under the mountain.” 

He nodded as you spoke and leaned back in his seat, “Yes, I know all of that.” Raising a brow he leaned forward once more, mirroring your position of leaning on the table. He was incredibly close, if you leaned forward just a bit more you would be breathing the air in his lungs. 

“What I dont know,” His gaze traveled to your lips quickly, back up again, “Is what you like. You don't strike me as the type to be brooding and boring.” 

You chuckled and looked away, breaking the proximity to relax into your seat once more. 

“Im not sure. I was seventeen when I was taken. And human girls aren't really offered much in the way of hobbies.” You were watching two children coloring the sidewalk with chalk as you spoke, “I liked knitting. And gardening.” 

Elandry snorted, and you whipped your gaze towards him with a glare. “I'm sorry.” He breathed, “Knitting? Gardening? That sounds absolutely-”

“Human?” You questioned.

“Domesticated.” He shot back, “Domesticated, is the word I was looking for.” 

Shrugging you returned your gaze to the passerby, “That's what I was supposed to grow up and be.” 

“And what do you want to be now, (y/n)?” He asked. Two women were strolling down the street. They were grinning from ear to ear and the posture they held nearly left you in tears. Their shoulders were back, heads held high, and they were so effortlessly powerful in their walk. 

“I want to be Free.” You answered honestly. Free. You had never been that in your life. Sworn to a life of docile livelihood, and then to an immortality of fear and complacency. “I want to be free.” 

Elandry watched your eyes as they trailed the women. His hands were clasped in his lap and his brows were pulled tightly. “And why can't you be that right now, lady Beddor?” You chuckled at this comment and pushed the food around on your plate. 

“I owe too many things to others. I owe Rhysand and his court my life, I owe Helion my honesty, and I owe the King of Hybern my newfound immortality.” You huffed out, rolling your eyes with a soured laugh. 

Elandry pondered your words, leaning his head back to bask in the warmth of the sun. “Perhaps you feel that way.” He looked to you once more, held your gaze firmly. “But you owe no one.” 

You snorted, “The fae always feel in debt.” It was a huffed complaint, one not unheard by him.

“Yes. When debt is owed. But you owe no one.” Elandry whispered, “Everyone you listed is indebted to you, (y/n). You saved your own life. You are the reason you have made it thus far. Yes, others may have aided you, but they have no right to ask anything in return.” 

You swallowed thickly, stared at him. “But Helion saved my-”

“You saved his life, Beddor.” He interjected. “Saved him from losing his mind under the mountain. Give yourself that much at least.” 

His words were so concrete that you could only nod tightly. With nothing to say to him you resumed your meal, let him fall into more pleasant conversation.

~

“Nonsense. You’ll have what you please.” Helion boomed with laughter from his spot at the table. Several heads in the room turned, watching your small group dine and laugh as the sun set over the land. 

Chuckling you drank deeply from your glass and nodded, allowing the waitress to refill the glass once more. “Thank you.” 

“Thank you.” Helion replied, reaching across the table to grasp your hand in his own. What he was thanking you for as you sat across from him, you were unsure, but nodded all the same. 

Leaning back in your seat you sighed and watched the changing horizon outside of the window. “I’ll have to return to the night court in a few days time.” You spoke softly, placing your napkin onto the table before you. 

“You could stay here.” Elandry offered. You turned your gaze to him with a raised brow and smiled sadly. 

“I wish I could.”

“Why couldn't you?” He prodded, crossing his arms across his chest. You looked to Helion who sighed and mirrored your position. Surely if you asked, Helion would let you stay. In fact- you were positive of that much. Helion only stared at you and waited on whatever answer it was you would concoct. 

Truthfully- you didnt have one. You stared at them both with pursed lips for a moment and deigned only a soft laugh in reply. The males shared a quick glance but pressed the subject no further- quickly falling back into meaningless and peaceful conversation, enjoying what little time it seemed they had left with you.

~

In your room that night you sat on the floor and stared at the moon. Despite it’s namesake this court had a night that seemed endless. Stars cartwheeled in the sky and a deep velvety blue stretched for miles over the sea beyond. It was gorgeous- but nowhere near rivaled the infinite inky darkness of the nightcourt. There, the stars danced and collided, made shapes in the sky and seemed to reach down to caress all who viewed their beauty. 

Helion had offered you a place here, had made it painfully obvious that you belonged here if you so chose to. Rhysand had done the same- tried tirelessly to make you feel welcome in his home. Your mind raced with thoughts that rivaled the number of stars above you now. Azriel, Feyre, Helion, mystical powers that Helion claimed came from the very stars you looked at now. 

You wondered absently if any of the twinkling lights could be your family- and then you began to wonder what they would think of you now. These thoughts were not foreign, they had raced through your mind since under the mountain- yet here you began to make peace with them. Clare would never marry as she so desperately wanted too, Adam would never turn ten, you would never find understanding for your mother’s ways, and never again would you dance with your father at one of his grand balls. Their lives had been reduced to faint memories and snow efigies atop a mountain no one could visit. You could not change their fates, could not bring them back from the kiss of death, and most importantly- you couldn't change who or what you were now. 

Tears, hot and silent, slipped down your cheeks. 

Tomorrow you would have a choice to make- stay where the sky meets the sea and live amongst Helion’s court whom you barely knew or return to the city of stars in five days and face the fact that Azriel was your mate but be surrounded by what was becoming familiar. Slowly, you lowered your body to the stone floor and began to count every star you saw. 

One

Two

Three

Four…

On the shore which Helion's palace overlooked, Azriel sat watching the sea. Dark waves lapped at the sand and tried tirelessly to reach out to him. He had not laid eyes upon you today, a fact that pestered him now. Above his head the sky stretched for miles and though he could not see it now- he knew his home laid just past the horizon. How foolish he had been to believe that maybe you would care to share that home with him. In contrast to the lengthy life he had lived- you were only a child. In the infancy of your immortality you had experienced more than most fae would experience after hundreds of years. How you had not lost your mind- he was unsure. Though…after his selfish revelation in your room the other night he was not entirely unsure you would be sane much longer. How could he? How could he deign to tell you such things so abruptly. 

Selfishness. That was how.

He hated seeing you with Cassian, hated seeing you laugh at Helion’s jokes, hated the way you sobbed in your room at the house of wind thinking no one heard, and he hated that he wasnt who you came to for comfort. 

If he was a smart male he would have thought that revelation through- would have realized he knew you well enough to know that being your mate would change none of this. You craved to be free and to have a life you had decided upon, that much he knew. 

As he laid back in the sand and stared at the milky moon above him now, Azriel began to think that maybe… he really knew nothing at all. 

~~

The rest of the week swept by with no sightings of Azriel. Despite his absence you still felt his domineering presence through every reach of the palace. You spent the days conversing with Helion’s court, allowing Elandry to take you all over to show you the beauty of the Day Court and its people. It was golden, both figuratively and literally. Helion’s love for riches and jewels extended into his city and through every reach of his court. Streets lined with gold plated lamps, roads crusted with colorful stones and gems, and each citizen seemed adorned with colors so otherworldly they looked like angels traversing the streets. You had never seen anything like it, even in the capitol cities below the wall there was poverty and grime. In the Day court, such things seemed to not exist- or they were so well hidden you never spotted them. Over the past several days you had met so many new faces that the names bled together in the back of your mind. On your sixth day in the Court of Sun you rode back towards the palace with Elandry. Behind you both, the sounds of the city began to quiet- and were replaced with the sounds of the sea lapping at the shore in the distance. 

“Have you made a decision?” Elandry finally spoke, to break up the silence. You horses walked so closely together that he did not have to speak loudly to capture your far off attention.

“I have.” You replied, eyes never leaving the path before you. The sweet scent of jasmine permeated your mind and the warmth of the setting sun was making the thought of your bed awaiting you quite appealing. 

Elandry had become quite a welcomed face in your days. He was soft and kind- where everyone else you had come to know was hard and cautious. He had shown you magic, botany, and so much kindness in such a short amount of time. Each day he urged you out of your room to do something new, show you something entirely unheard of. Of course- he allowed you to say no, but the courtier had a way with words which made it hard to deny him. The two of you had explored every inch of Helion’s gardens, eaten at several places in the capitol, and had spent hours combing through Helion’s more public libraries. 

“May I ask what that decision is?” 

At this question you turned your head to look at him. His pale eyes searched yours as though he would find the answer within them. 

“Im going to return to the night court.” 

The answer shocked him slightly, and it shocked you when it made itself known. 

You had mulled over it tirelessly each night. Made a pros and cons list of each court depiste how silly it felt. The Day Court could be home you had decided- it had the comfort of one but lacked the familiarity that Velaris called to you with. Despite the tear in your heart that seemed to bleed each time you laid eyes upon the Archeron sisters… The Night Court felt like home to you. In your growing list of pros you had realized that the simplicity of life in Velaris was all you had ever wanted. Helion’s home was one you would have craved when you were human - opulent and fit for kings. In this new life you no longer craved gold and riches- you craved reality and the painful reminder of who you were before Amarantha. In some sick way- you enjoyed the pain of seeing the Archeron’s continue onward with their lives. The love Feyre displayed for her sisters would be a stark reminder that your own family had existed- a reality you feared one day you would forget. 

Despite only knowing you a week, Elandry knew he would not change your mind. 

“Will I see you again, Beddor?” 

“We’re going to live forever, of course you’ll see me again.” You replied in jest- reaching out to softly tap his knee closest to you. He seemed to relax then, settling back into his saddle. 

“Race you back?” He challenged. 

“You must have a taste for failure.”

Shooting off into the now moonlit path the night erupted in laughter and pounding hooves. As you approached the grand entry of Helion’s palace your sides ached from the merth. Elandry had let you win, a fact you now pestered him about as you both slowed to a stroll nearing the steps. 

As your duo neared your spine stiffened as did Elandry’s.

Standing upon the top step was the dark figure of Azriel, wings hidden by glamorous. Hands clasped behind his back- he watched the two of you dismount and make your way towards him with feigned disinterest. 

“Helion would like to speak with you in his personal library.” He spoke, forcing his eyes to the great lawn behind you. 

“Misae could have told me.” You replied in a clipped tone, staring at him defiantly. Azriel drug his gaze to your own, face unchanging. 

“She tried to find you. She is presently engaged and asked me to inform you.” His words were terse and his gaze unwavering. Elandry stood quietly beside you, but observed both the spymaster and you with curious eyes. 

“I can take you to his library before my evening meeting, if you wish.” Elandry finally spoke after an awkward moment of silence as you and Azriel just stared at one another. Never taking your eyes off  the master of shadows you nodded. Azriel looked like he wanted to protest, but merely moved to the side to allow the both of you entry into Helion’s home. 

With no further words exchanged between the three of you- you followed Elandry inside. 

-

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[pretentious-blonde]

steady

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: healing is never easy, but steve surprises even himself with his progress

warnings: ptsd, anxiety, therapy sessions, depression

a/n: angst!! robin makes an appearance too. steve is kind of smitten and he loves it <3

series masterlist

Steve slouched in the passenger seat of Robin’s car, sunglasses perched on his nose, hiding the tension marring his features. If you could see him, you’d notice the subtle clench of his jaw, the way his hands rested in tight fists on his thighs. 

He kept his eyes shut against the morning light—though the tinted lenses helped, the brightness still drilled into his temples, intensifying the dull, throbbing ache that had settled behind his eyes. The quiet inside the vehicle was unusually deliberate, a courtesy Robin extended with careful consideration.

She was never one to enjoy silence, but she was trying. Like she always did for him.

He shifted, pressing his head a bit further into the seat. The sound of tires on asphalt rolled beneath them like thunder, matching the faint ringing in his ear. It was a small remnant of older injuries—injuries he’d earned through too many head-on collisions with fists and floors. 

Still, he felt lucky. After all, pain was a familiar adversary, and these headaches came around far less frequently than they used to.

A glance at her told him all he needed to know: her shoulders stiff with concentration, hands gripping the wheel lightly, eyes skimming across the road. She gave him a little smile, more a twitch than anything. She’d barely spoken a word since he got in, not wanting to rile his migraine. It reminded him of just how fiercely she cared.

They were heading to his weekly appointment, a routine that once felt more like a punishment than a path to healing. He’d spent his first two sessions in complete silence, arms crossed, mouth sealed shut.

Steve Harrington didn't need a therapist. The idea of seeing felt like admitting defeat. But Robin—gentle, but tearful—had practically dragged him back, desperately pleading for her best friend to return to himself. 

The memory arose every time he buckled in for these drives, reminding him that sometimes letting people in was the only way to get out of the mess in his head.

“Almost there,” Robin said softly, her voice subdued. A pang of guilt flared inside him; he knew she had better things to do on her Saturday morning than play chauffeur. Yet here she was. She always was when he needed her. 

He opened his eyes as the car glided into the parking lot, the movement so careful it barely jolted him. The world outside looked too bright—even through sunglasses—and his headache began to pulse in protest. When she killed the engine, she turned to him, eyes filled with caution.

“You alright with getting in?” she asked. Her voice was as gentle as her driving.

“Yeah.” Drawing in a breath and forcing a small, wry smile. “Pretty sure I remember the way.” He joked through the dull throb in his skull.

She nodded, and he carefully pushed the door open. The sudden rush of cooler air felt refreshing. A stab of pain shot through his temple, and he winced, one hand lifting to shield his eyes from the sun. As he stood, he turned back toward her. 

“I just… I wanna say I’m sorry again, for waking you up and making you drive me. I hate—”

“Don’t.” She held up a hand before he could finish. “It’s no problem. Seriously.” 

There was reassurance in her tone, and it squeezed his heart. He hated imposing, but her unwavering support was something he grew to accept.

“What you gonna do for the hour?” he asked, a little softer now.

“I’ve got my reading material. I’m all set.” She patted a worn paperback tucked into the side of the driver's door. She waved him off, managing a playful eye-roll. “Now go. You’ll be late.”

He nodded and headed towards the entrance, stepping through the lobby steadily as not to jostle his head around. The walls were painted in cool tones that did nothing to ease the piercing sunlight still dancing at the edges of his vision.

Despite that, he managed a half-smile at the receptionist—he’d been here enough times now to know the woman, though he never quite remembered her name. He headed for Dr Avery’s office, following the familiar hallway until he found the right door.

He knocked once, the sound dull against the wood, and a voice called from within. 

“Come in.”

Pushing the door open, he hesitated, sunglasses still shielding his eyes. The elderly doctor glanced up from a small stack of files, his expression softening into a gentle smile. 

“Migraine?” he asked, and though his voice was calm, concern wove through it.

“Yeah,” he admitted with a huffed laugh, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. In response, Dr Avery rose from behind his desk, crossing the room to draw the blinds. Morning sunlight turned softer, and the shift in brightness made his shoulders relax a fraction.

“Better?” Dr Avery said, settling back into his chair. 

In one smooth motion, Steve slid his sunglasses off, resting them on his knee as he sank into the chair opposite. He closed his eyes for a second, letting the dimmer light settle over him. 

“Much,” he murmured, pressing his fingertips against his temples. 

Silence hung in the room. It was gentle in the way Dr Avery seemed to cultivate it in all their sessions. 

“So, how has your week been?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and gave a one-shouldered shrug. 

“It’s been alright,” he answered, gesturing toward his temple with the hand clutching his glasses. “Apart from, you know…”

“It’s been a while since you’ve had a migraine.” Dr Avery nodded, thoughtful. “Any idea what might’ve triggered it?”

“Not really,” Steve said, mouth tightening into a line. “Didn’t sleep too well last night.”

“Any reason for that?” came the quiet prompt.

He shrugged, gaze drifting away. “Same old dreams.”

There was a pause—a measured moment that the doctor always seemed to use to let Steve choose how much he wanted to reveal. 

“Still bad?” He finally asked when he realised he wouldn’t elaborate. 

“They’ve died down a bit this week.” He exhaled, brow furrowing. “Guess my mind’s been busy with other stuff.”

A knowing spark crossed Dr Avery’s eyes. 

“Drama with the kids?”

A snort of laughter startled from Steve’s chest, a quick bloom of humour in the midst of his fatigue. 

“No, not quite,” he said, shaking his head fondly. “Though Lucy still can’t tie her shoes. You’d think she’d have mastered it by now with all my help, but… nope.”

“Is that so?” Dr Avery asked, lips quirking in amusement.

“Yeah,” he replied, rolling his eyes in that trademark exasperation that came from too many hours spent cajoling a stubborn little girl to make bunny ears with the laces. “She should just stick to Velcro. Less drama that way.”

A comfortable chuckle passed between them, the air relaxing for a moment. But he wasn’t surprised when Dr Avery steered them back on track—he’d noticed long ago how adept the therapist was at re-centring him whenever he started wandering off-topic.

Which—in his defence—Steve was especially prone to.

“So,” Dr Avery said gently, leaning forward a bit, “what’s really been on your mind lately?”

Steve’s hand tightened around the armrest of the chair. The lighthearted spark in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something softer. He took a slow breath, like he was trying to gather the right words.

“I... I met someone…” He said slowly, feeling the words out. 

His confession hung in the air—three simple words, but they carried a weight that was far greater than the simple sentence. 

He held his breath for a moment, as though he were afraid that speaking it out loud might shatter the illusion. He could practically see Dr Avery’s features shift into gentle encouragement, the slight lift of eyebrows and a softness around his eyes. 

It was the same look the therapist always gave him whenever Steve cracked open the door to something new, something vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, tried to muster some of that confidence people used to say he had in spades back in high school. It felt a little rusty, but it was there, somewhere beneath the bruises.

“Who is this someone?” Dr Avery asked quietly. Knowing the importance of the question.

Steve couldn’t stop the small grin that crept onto his face. He fiddled with the sunglasses perched on his knee—still mindful of the headache pressing at his temples, but somehow the ache felt muted by a rush of something much sweeter. 

“She’s new in town,” he began, voice a little shy, “took over the old bookshop. You know the one down on Oak? Kids needed some books, so I asked if she could deliver them. And she did—personally.” He shook his head in astonished awe. “I mean, talk about customer service, right? Even managed to track down some of my favorite titles on, like, super short notice.”

Dr Avery’s lips curved into a smile. “She sounds nice.”

“You have no idea,” Steve replied, eyes lighting up as memories tumbled through his mind. He had to fight back the grin that threatened to become almost giddy. “When she came by the school, I asked her out for coffee. Honestly, I thought she’d say no—I mean—I barely even know her—she was just doing her job. But she said yes.” He let out an incredulous little chuckle. “Even looked happy I asked.”

“So, you met up with her?”

“Twice,” Steve confirmed, leaning forward in his seat as though admitting a grand secret. “We got coffee both times—nothing serious, but…” He paused, remembering the feeling of those events. In the coffee shop’s atmosphere, he’d felt almost normal, like he could forget the the weight of the last few years. 

“She laughed at my jokes,” he continued, voice tinged with a note of disbelief, “and I mean really laughed—not just being polite—she actually thought I was funny.”

He couldn’t quite disguise how much that simple fact thrilled him. For so long, he’d forgotten what it was like to feel that weightless. You didn’t know every part of him yet. And in that ignorance, there was a freedom he hadn’t felt in ages.

Steve glanced down at his sneakers, twisting the sunglasses in his hands as though he couldn’t quite meet Dr Avery’s gaze. After a moment, he exhaled softly and spoke again.

“She, uh… she called me a few nights ago,” he began, running a hand through his hair. “It was late—maybe past ten? I was cleaning up—you know, trying to settle down for the night. Then the phone rang. I kind of panicked for a second before I heard her—I mean, nobody usually calls that late on a school night, unless—”

He paused, eyes flicking up to gauge Dr Avery’s reaction. The therapist merely offered a small, encouraging nod, so Steve continued, his voice growing steadier as he found the story’s thread.

“Turns out she was reworking her finances,” he explained. “Something about spreadsheets and reorganising… stuff—moving money around, I don’t know. Not my thing. She sounded stressed, though. Tired. I could hear it in her voice—even when she tried to laugh it off, there was this… tension, you know?”

“She asked me if I could just… tell her about my day.” His gaze trailed to a spot on the floor, a slight smile creeping onto his face. “Said she needed something to take her mind off the numbers, something that’d make her smile.” He shook his head, as if still in mild disbelief. “And I did—told her anything I could think of. Stupid stuff. But every time she asked me more I—”

A faint flush of color touched his cheeks as he forced himself to stop rambling. He shifted in his chair, the memory clearly stirring emotions he was still getting used to. 

“Honestly,” he admitted with a small shrug, “by the end of that call, I was the one feeling better—like, just by giving me a reason to talk. It was… I don’t know.” His smile broadened as he grasped for the right words. “It felt good to be that guy again.”

Dr Avery’s lips curved in a thoughtful smile, and he leaned forward as though to speak. But Steve, caught up in the rush of the memory, beat him to it.

“I guess that’s why I’m so thrown off by how easy it’s been,” he said, voice going soft. “I was worried I wouldn’t know how to do this. But with her… it’s just been simple.”

He let out a slow breath, hands finally coming to rest on his knees, attention lifting to meet the doctor. His eyes held a sheen, a hope that felt fragile but very, very real.

“So, yeah,” Steve finished, voice hushed. “She called me, and I ended up talking her ear off. Turns out we both needed that call.”

Dr Avery, picking up on that far-off look in Steve’s eyes, nodded approvingly. 

“I’m really happy for you, Steve,” he said. “Truly. This is a big step.”

His cheeks felt a little warm, and he shrugged as if to downplay it. 

“It’s—yeah, well, it’s not like we’re official or anything,” he joked weakly, but there was a trace of a blush there that gave him away.

“No, Steve, really,” Dr Avery pressed, leaning forward. “Think about you this time last year. You’ve come a long way.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing aside. “When you put it like that…”

Dr Avery’s expression brightened with approval. “Would you like to talk about what you want to do next?”

Steve’s eyes shot back up, and there was a flash of that old charismatic grin—boyish, genuine. 

“Sure,” he said, settling a little more comfortably into the chair. And he meant it, because he knew exactly what he wanted to spend the rest of this session talking about. 

Steve wasn’t entirely sure why he was walking toward the bookshop. In fact, he was pretty certain that turning around would be the more logical, less awkward option. But even as the thought crossed his mind, his feet kept moving forward—one in front of the other—carrying him down the quiet street. The evening sun dipped low in the sky, casting the storefronts in long shadows. 

He told himself it was a casual visit—you were just on his way home. That was all. After his session this morning and an afternoon spent napping off his migraine, he needed some fresh air. Dr Avery’s words stuck in his head, all that gentle encouragement about letting himself explore how he felt. 

So here he was, hoping he didn’t look like some creep for showing up out of the blue. 

By the time he reached your door, the shop lights shone softly in the evening dim. He hesitated for a split second before pushing inside, setting off the familiar chime of the overhead bell. 

No turning back now.

“Hello?” he called softly, stepping past a stack of books near the entrance.

“Steve?” Your voice echoed from somewhere off to the side, recognising his voice.

“Uh, yeah?” he answered, glancing around the shelves.

“Round here!” you directed.

He followed your voice and turned the corner—and immediately his heart lurched. 

You were on a rickety ladder, precariously reaching for a high shelf. Before he could even say a word, the ladder lurched dangerously to one side, and his instincts kicked in, sharp as ever due to his line of work.

He surged forward, grabbing the frame to hold it steady. The sudden jolt of movement made you stumble, and you shot him a sheepish look as you clung to a shelf.

“Whoa—hey,” he said, breath tight in his chest as he stabilised you. “I spend all day trying to avoid broken bones, now I gotta to look out for yours, too?”

You looked down at him, a pang of sympathy stirring at the worry across his face. His hands remained firmly gripping the ladder, but his eyes were filled with concern.

You mumbled a flustered apology, claiming you were nearly finished. But he didn’t buy it. 

“Sure you were.” He gave the ladder a cautionary glance. “Please, just…get down? Before you break your neck?”

“Yeah, yeah. Alright.” Rolling your eyes, you began to climb down, one careful step at a time. 

Reaching the floor, you rested a hand on his shoulder for balance. It was a small gesture, but warmth prickled across the back of his neck. 

He liked being the steady one for a change.

“You need a new ladder,” he said, trying to sound more authoritative than concerned.

“If it lasted this long, it’s fine,” you scoffed, though he could tell you knew how bad it was. He bit back the urge to argue, exhaling a quiet laugh at your stubbornness.

Once you were safely on your own two feet, you turned to face him, dusting off your hands. 

“So, back already for new reading material?”

He blinked, suddenly feeling the weight of his spontaneous visit. 

“Uh—no, actually.” He cleared his throat, searching for something that sounded casual. “You were just on my way home, and, y’know…felt rude not to say hi.”

His heart tripped over itself as you offered a small smile. 

“Hi,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his.

“Hi,” he echoed, a bit breathless. For a moment, neither of you spoke. He coughed to break the silence. “So, um—doing some reorganising ‘round here?”

“Sort of,” you gestured toward two large boxes in the corner. “Got a delivery yesterday. I was putting it away before I nearly met my demise on that death trap.”

His gaze shifted to the boxes. “That’s… quite a few books.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, “my supplier wanted to clear out some stock, so he gave me a really good deal. Now I kinda regret it, because I’m gonna be stuck here all evening.”

His posture straightened. The chance to help—to be useful—sparked a little excitement in him. 

“I can stay,” he offered, maybe too quickly. “I mean—I can help. If you want.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “No, you don’t have to do that on your day off. I feel guilty just thinking about it.”

“Seriously,” he shook his head, giving you a reassuring smile. “I’m weirdly good at organising stuff. Used to work at the video store—returns master, right here.” He pointed at himself, a teasing grin playing on his lips.

He had always thought that job would never prepare him for anything, yet here it was—proof that even the worst gigs could have their silver linings. He found himself almost grateful to Keith for all the menial tasks he’d been forced to complete while working there.

You giggled at his proud proclamation, the sound sending a pleasant shiver through him. 

“I still feel bad making you work.”

“I got nowhere else to be,” he admitted, shrugging in an attempt at nonchalance, though he couldn't fully hide his eagerness. “Really. Let me help.”

“Fine, fine.” You gave in, lifting your hands in mock defeat. “You take the box on the left. I’ll take the one on the right.”

“Deal,” he said, stepping up to the nearer box. He pried open the cardboard flaps, inhaling the familiar scent of new books and packing paper. 

It took you less than an hour to reach the bottom of the boxes, with Steve finishing his first and immediately jumping in to help with yours. He wasn’t exaggerating when he said he was good at alphabetising. Only asking intermittently about which genre section he should place them in.

He sank onto the velvet couch with a satisfied sigh, leaning his head against the backrest. The shop felt cosier now that all the new arrivals were tucked away on the shelves, along with the soft lanterns overhead. He had to give it to you, this place really was charming. 

“That was faster than I expected,” you remarked, settling beside him. 

“What’d I tell you?” He shot you a playful grin. “Basically a professional.”

"You’re full of surprises," you muse, nudging his knee lightly with yours.

He shrugs, but there’s a hint of something pleased in his expression. It feels good to be praised by you specifically.

You tilt your head, watching him for a moment. "Are you thirsty?"

"A little,” he starts to shake his head. “But honestly, don’t worry—"

“Wait here.” You sprang to your feet, practically bouncing toward the back of the shop and up the stairs that led to your apartment above. He watched you go, a smirk tugging at his lips and his eyelids feeling heavier. The place felt oddly empty without your presence, but he still found it comforting nonetheless.

He felt truly at ease here, already picturing himself marking homework—messy sums and misspelt words scattered across the pages. It would be a relief not to do it under the harsh glare of the classroom lights; maybe it would even help with his headaches.

God, he was getting ahead of himself.

Light footsteps on the stairs made him blink awake. You appeared, carefully balancing two steaming mugs. The soft light from the overhead bulbs illuminated the proud smile on your face.

“Oh?” He sat up straighter, intrigued. “What’s this?”

“Hot chocolate,” you announced proudly, offering him one of the mugs as you begin quote him. “Apparently 'everyone likes it.'”

He took the mug gently, trying not to pay too much attention as your fingertips against his. 

“That they do,” he chuckled, voice low. "Thanks."

You looked so pleased—like you were giving him a gift far more precious—and it made his chest tighten. You settled in next to him again, blowing on the surface of your drink. Your gaze flicked over his face. 

“Were you falling asleep on me?” you teased.

“Never,” he insisted, taking a sip. Warm sweetness spread across his tongue, making him sigh in contentment. “Just had a long day.”

“Well, now I feel even worse for making you stick around.”

“Hey,” he said, shaking his head and lifting his mug in mock salute, “It’s worth the reward.”

A small smile touched your lips. “Fair enough.”

He cleared his throat, trying not to look too anxious as he ventured. 

“So, are you gonna be busy next week?” He kept his eyes on the rising steam so you wouldn’t catch just how much this question mattered to him.

“Not sure.” You gave a casual shrug. “Sometimes this place is packed, other times it’s dead quiet. But I like it—I get to meet new people. It’s one of the best parts of owning a shop, you know? Everyone eventually wanders in.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” He nodded. “Hawkins isn’t huge, so…makes it easier to get familiar with folks.”

“Quality over quantity, right?” you quipped, and Steve swore you shot him a sidelong look that made the tips of his ears burn. He swallowed, unable to stop a smile from creeping onto his face.

He took another sip of cocoa. 

“Right,” he echoed. Then, his heart thrumming, unable to stop from himself from blurting out the question. “See me next week?”

“Huh?” You blinked, a bit confused. 

Realising how direct that sounded, he fumbled to correct himself. 

“I mean—are you free next week? We could…do something. Grab dinner?”

He hoped his recovery was smooth, maybe he was coming on a little strong, but he couldn’t help it. It had been so long since he’d felt hopeful about something, and every time he was around you, the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift. 

Call him selfish, but if you’d let him, he wanted to soak up as much of you as he could.

A flicker of surprise crossed your features, followed by a delighted smile. “I can be free on Wednesday, I think.”

“Great.” He nodded, doing his best not to look too excited. “I’ll—I’ll book us a table somewhere. A restaurant.”

He could practically feel the adrenaline in his veins. It’d been way too long since he planned an actual dinner date, and the thought of sharing that with you felt electric.

“Do I need to dress fancy?” You grinned. It was a playful question, but he noticed a little bashfulness in your tone.

“Nah,” he said offhandedly, warmth pooling in his stomach. “You’d look beautiful no matter what you wear.”

He said it so nonchalantly that it caught you off guard and your cheeks warmed with colour, a gentle rose you tried to hide behind the rim of your mug. But he still caught the flush and felt his heart leap, safe in the knowledge that you might also feel the same as he did.

He drained the last of his hot chocolate, the flavour still clinging to his lips as he handed the mug back. 

"Thanks," he said as you took his cup.

"I think I should be the one saying that," you corrected.

He rolled his eyes, leading the way to the exit, but before stepping out, he glanced back at you. 

"See you Wednesday?"

You chuckled—he always repeated your plans back to you. It was endearing, but deep down, he needed the reassurance. When it came to you, he didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

"See you Wednesday," you echoed.

His grin was immediate and genuine, cheeks warming to match yours. With one last look, he slipped out the door, carrying that sweet moment with him all the way home.

Now, all that was left was to call Robin (obviously) and figure out what restaurant to book. He kicked himself for not asking what kind of food you liked, but he liked to think you trusted him with the choice.

It felt good—being in control again.

taglist: @daisy-is-a-writer @chiliwhore @kvroomi

[moomie-mooger]

Hey guys!

I’ve decided to cave into my urge to share things I’ve made and decided to share a small portion of the fic I’m slooowly writing for, thought I’d draw a visual for it too <3

Writing under the image

[ ‘Rodger the Magnifying Glass… A male, around 4ft with a noir suit coat, a white suit shirt neatly tucked under. He donned a light purple neck ruff bearing a deeper indigo gem in the middle being held by a golden ring, with a band the same color as his suits' accents wrapped around his handle. Keen eye and enough persistence to put our handlers out of a job if he really tried hard enough— Lord knows they get tired having to manage over 20 Toons. Yet he manages to deal with his cases with ease, almost as if he doesn’t need to put in any effort to figure out the problem and come to a conclusion. He’s a good Toon, maybe even a great one. An A-class detective’.

…

‘And an A-class pain in my ass.’

‘It was a run day, I had been on the list of Toons that'd be sent down into the stomach of Gardenview. A cold, relentless, and unforgiving place that threatened to swallow the minds and matter of any Toon who dared plunge its depths for ichor and intel. Innocence simply couldn’t thrive in a place like that, neither would naivety nor ignorance. …At least that’s what Rodger had described it as. Now I know I’m not one who can call others dramatic, but he was SERIOUSLY overdoing the whole “dark and dangerous place” thing, I almost feel as though I have competition. Oh well, it was in the back of my mind…’

‘However, what was really burning a hole in the back of my head was Rodger. Tch, that nosy detective. He’d been staring at me this entire run and I’m not just exaggerating either. It’s creepy— It’s seriously starting to freak me out.. Now I know I’m gorgeous, I know I tend to steal the spotlight of every room I’m in and- let’s just face it, I’m simply the best looking Toon, an objective fact really. But… C’mon. 15 floors. It’s been FIFTEEN Floors and you haven’t found anything else of interest to look at..? If I didn’t know any better I’d think you’re in love with me! Though it’s not like I’d blame you, if I was anyone else I’d fall in love with me too, heh. I mean.. it’s just the most natural reaction anyone could have!’ Glisten couldn’t hold back the satisfied chuckle and smug grin that crept up his face as he stood tall in the middle of the elevator, his posture straight up and head bent slightly down as he checked his nails. But seriously, the staring was starting to get a bit much for the mirror. Sure, he loved attention, but this was starting to cross a boundary he didn’t know he had.

The sudden halt of the elevator and the sounds of quieted chatter pulled the mirror out of his thoughts as the large door to the elevator hauled its heavy weight and pulled itself upwards releasing the toons from their temporary “safe zone”. There were a good handful of toons in the elevator since they’d be going on a longer run than usual. Looey was quick to immediately throw himself out of the elevator with a jump and bounce, scanning the floor for the three Twisteds that were aimlessly stumbling about. Tisha just barely being able to boost his speed with her ability, an exasperated huff sounding from her as she trailed behind him, clearly unhappy with the balloon’s impulsive behavior. He was their primary distractor this time around since Goob had been too injured to accompany them on the run, having a bad run in with twisted Toodles and even worse luck when he’d realized he had run inside of Twisted Razzle and Dazzle’s death trap. Glisten could still hear the angry hissing and yowling of Scraps when the other team had returned from their daunting trip in the back of his mind, he was glad he wasn’t assigned to that team. Scraps may be made of flimsy paper but make NO mistake, her words are just as sharp as her claws! Though if he.. WAS there… he was sure they would’ve finished extracting all the machines before that would’ve happened. ]