#okay its nearly 3 am time for bed

[cat-dragron]

Now that episode 8 is out o have to make that Murder Drones video essay holy shit.

Like from the overall character arcs to the music and it's leit motifs to the use of color there is just so much I would love to talk about honestly!!!

God im so glad that a show like this got to exist and he made.

[kxsagi]

Heyyyy!!!! I have another request

So isagi or nagi (you can choose) want their girlfriend attention cause there studying for too many hours (they payed attention to them a hours ago) and they need 'break' really is just them wanting attention

Thanm you before hand!!!!!<3

“𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝟏𝟎𝟏”

a/n: anything for you princess 💓 includes both nagi seishiro & isagi yoichi! 

“𝐩𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞”

you sit at your desk, surrounded by open textbooks, half-finished notes, and a blinking cursor on your laptop screen. the air smells like coffee and highlighters, and the only sound is the clacking of your laptop keyboard. you’re in the zone, your mind a well-running academic machine. 

then a voice breaks through your focus. 

“hey," nagi drawls, leaning against your chair, controller still in hand. "you've been at it for hours. maybe take a little break?" 

you barely glance at him. "i’m fine." 

he sighs dramatically, plopping onto your bed with a loud thump. "c’mon, you always say that. but what if this time, your brain actually needs a break?" his voice dips into something persuasive, something teasing. "what if your boyfriend needs your attention?" 

your fingers pause over the keyboard. "you’re just trying to get me away from my work." 

he grins, unbothered. "nooo, i’m trying to make sure my incredibly smart, incredibly hardworking girlfriend doesn’t burn out." he stretches, tilting his head at you. "and, okay, maybe i do miss you a little. can’t a guy be needy?" 

you sigh, rubbing your temples. he’s relentless. always hovering, always looking for ways to pull you away, under the guise of self-care, of course. but you also know him well enough to see through the act. 

“you don’t actually care about me resting," you say, turning in your chair to look at him fully. "you just want me to pay attention to you." 

his eyes gleam. "you say that like it’s a crime." 

you shake your head, exasperated but… amused. he looks so smug, sprawled across your bed, watching you like you’re the final boss he’s determined to beat. and, really, what’s a short break going to hurt? 

with a sigh, you close your laptop. nagi’s face immediately lights up. 

“there we go!" he grabs your hand, pulling you onto the bed beside him. "welcome back to real life, babe. we missed you." 

you roll your eyes, but when he loops an arm around your waist and presses a quick, satisfied kiss to your temple, you think, maybe, just maybe, a little attention isn’t the worst thing. 

“𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞”

you're sitting at your desk, posture perfect, pen gliding across the page as you annotate yet another chapter. your planner is color-coded, your notes immaculate, everything in its rightful place. the world beyond your studies is irrelevant. 

well, almost. 

because there’s isagi. 

your boyfriend, a soccer star and a golden retriever in human form, currently flopped across your floor like he’s been defeated in battle. 

"i’m dying," he groans, dramatically draping an arm over his face. "i ran, like, a thousand miles at practice today. my legs are jello. my coach is a monster." 

you hum, unimpressed, as you flip to the next page of your textbook. "sounds like you should be resting, then." 

"i am resting," he says, rolling onto his stomach, chin propped up by his hands as he stares at you. "but it’d be better if my girlfriend cared about my suffering." 

"i do care," you reply without looking up. "i just have an exam in two days, and you being clingy isn’t going to change that." 

"clingy?" he gasps, placing a hand over his heart like you've wounded him. "that’s crazy. i’m just a guy who wants five minutes of attention from the love of his life. is that a crime?" 

you finally glance at him. he’s pouting, eyes big and pleading, the way he gets when he wants something. the worst part? you know exactly what he’s doing, and it still works. 

"i just sat down," you say, though your resolve is weakening. 

"you sat down nearly three hours ago, and you’ll be sitting all night if i don’t intervene." he pushes himself up and stretches, wincing dramatically. "look, babe, i’m a broken man. i need help." 

you raise a brow. "help with what?" 

he grins. "massage my leg." 

you snort. "absolutely not." 

“pleaseee," he whines, inching toward you. "i’ll never walk again if you don’t." 

you shake your head, but before you can protest further, he suddenly collapses into your lap, stretching across you with an exaggerated groan. 

“ah," he sighs, dramatically. "i see the light. this is the end for me." 

“you’re the most annoying person i’ve ever met," you deadpan, but your fingers are already brushing through his hair, his favorite kind of attention. 

his smirk is instant. "oh? then why are you petting me like i’m your favorite?" 

you freeze, but he just tilts his head, pressing closer. 

“don’t worry," he murmurs. "i won’t tell anyone that the academic weapon has a soft spot for her dumb soccer boyfriend." 

you roll your eyes, but you don’t push him away. your textbook is still open, your highlighters untouched, but somehow, you think, maybe, this is the kind of break you don’t mind taking.

© 𝐤𝐱��𝐚𝐠𝐢

[meadowfics]

cryptic

kang dae-ho x f!reader

one of the scariest things happens to you after leaving the games

warnings: cryptic pregnancy, near death, at the time I am writing this season 3 is not out yet, angst, comfort at the end

when you entered the squid games, the last person you expected to see was dae-ho.

your heart nearly stopped when you spotted him in the crowd for the six-legged pentathlon.

you had to take a double take before starting the race with your group..

yup, there he was...broad shoulders, haunted eyes, and that same furrow in his brow you used to know so well.

he froze when he saw you up there ready to play with your own group, his lips parting in disbelief, but the guards didn’t give either of you time to process it.

the game began, and survival instincts took over.

you had the fastest group, luckily.

you completed the jegi game and ran to the finish line as everyone cheered for your group.

however, your ears tuned out everyone except for dae-ho, who made sure that you witnessed his support.

waiting for his group to come back to the dorms was torture for you.

its been nearly six-months since the last time you saw your ex-boyfriend.. however, you still loved him.

he broke up with you, and you had an idea as to why.

he felt like you deserved better, in terms of finding someone who had a bit more masculinity.

you never wanted that, or anyone else.. you always wanted your dae-ho.

a glimpse of relief was caught in your eyes when his group, the last group, entered the dorms.

he spotted you and gave you a light smile, before he turned away, retreating back to his group.

you wanted to talk to him, but what could you possibly say?

throughout the night, the exhaustion that settled over you wasn’t just from the constant fear of death but from the hunger you couldn’t shake away.

those pitiful trays of food barely sustained you, and your body craved more.

you kept with your group you had in the six-legged pentathlon..

when someone in your group couldn’t stomach their meal, you always took it, masking your desperation with a lighthearted

“don’t want it to go to waste.”

deep down, you hated that you were lying, but survival had its price.

dae-ho was always watching you, even when you weren’t aware of it.

he kept his distance, knowing how complicated things were between you two, but his protective instincts never faltered.

when you almost stumbled into danger during one of the nightly fights that broke out.. he was the one who grabbed your arm.

he pulled you to safety underneath his bunk before you could get hurt.

dae-ho didn’t say much, just a light, “stay alert, don't play any heroics,” before disappearing again.

the rebellion with the guards was a turning point.

the chaos had triggered dae-ho’s ptsd, and he was trembling, muttering under his breath about orders and mistakes.

when you witnessed him dropping the jacket full of gun magazines, you jumped up from your bunk bed to jog over to him.

007 nearly did too, but you stopped him.

"I got it.. ju- just stay with your mother."

approaching dae-ho, it broke your heart to see him like that because it reminded you why he left you in the first place.

the reason for the breakup is because he thought his brokenness from the marines would be too much for you to handle.

he pushed you away before you even knew how to help.

this time, you refused to let him spiral alone.

“dae-ho, look at me,” you said softly.

you tapped on his knee while rubbing his elbow softly, some physical reassurance while his ears were blocked by his strong hands.

“you’re not in the marines right now. you’re here, on this bed.. with me..."

you mumbled...

the man flinched hearing you, which caused you to nearly flinch as well.

did he think that you were going to hit him??

"we’re going to get through this, but you need to come back to me, okay?”

it took a long moment, even after hyun-ju came back, but your voice reached him.

after a while, his breathing steadied.

the next games were brutal. human chess left you rattled, knowing how easily a single wrong move would’ve ended you.

during the monkey bars game, you thought you were done for. every muscle in your body screamed, and it felt like your arms were going to give out at any second.

as a teenager, you had superior upper body strength.. whats so different now?

your arms were shaking for those last few bars, but at least you are alive.

when you collapsed on the other side, you were still shaking.

dae-ho was there in an instant, crouching beside you and muttering something you barely caught.

“its okay, you're okay, you made it. I'm here,"

it was a miracle that both you and dae-ho made it to the end.

his group—jun-hee, myung-gi, hyun-ju, and gi-hun—were all battered but alive.

you were the sole survivor from your group, most of them dying during dongdaemun.. and the weight of that loss lingered heavy in your chest.

when the games finally ended, and the guards began preparing to release you, dae-ho pulled you aside. his hands were rough but gentle as they grasped yours, his voice low and urgent.

“i didn’t think i’d survive this, let alone see you again. but we did, and i… i want to fix things. if you’ll let me.”

his words hit you like a wave, and you knew there was no denying the truth anymore. despite everything, you still loved him. you missed him. you wanted him back in your life.

“okay, we can fix this--”

you said softly, your voice cracking.

"but dae-ho.... why did you leave?"

you nearly cried, thinking about the last time you saw dae-ho before now.

the way he left your apartment, the way you could not eat for days, you wanted to make sure that something like that did not occur again with him.

"it was not you, like I said-- I thought you deserved better than me.. someone who was stronger than me."

the man frowned.

you placed your hand on his strong bicep, just on top of his marine tattoo.. your other hand went to his face.

"dae-ho, you're the strongest man I know. even if that wasn't the case, I do not want anyone else.. ever! I just want you."

you say.

at this point, the guards start taking everyone away to go back home.

“meet me at our cafe spot in seoul on november 16th!!!"

the last thing you remembered was the sound of his voice before the guards released the gas that knocked you out.

the impact of hitting the pavement still lingered in your body as you woke up, tied up, and blindfolded.

the cold concrete under you only added to the disorientation, and your heart pounded as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

all you could see is black.

then, a voice...soft and filled with concern...called out.

“oh my god, are you okay? hold on, let me help you.”

the blindfold was pulled away, and you blinked against the sudden light.

the woman in front of you had a kind face, her brows furrowed in worry as she quickly untied the ropes around your wrists.

“who did this to you?”

“i…” you paused, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“thank you. i don’t even know.”

"do you want me to call the police for you?"

"oh no, its okay do not worry about that!"

she helped you sit up, her hands hovering as if afraid you might collapse again.

“what’s your name?”

your mind raced, but you dodged the question.

“what’s today’s date?”

her expression shifted to confusion.

“it’s november 7th.”

november 7th. you exhaled deeply, relief and anxiety warring within you. nine days until november 16th.

nine days until you’d see dae-ho again. far too long, but at least you knew where to be.

time in the games had been meaningless, stretched and warped in the absence of phones and clocks.

as you stood up, you glanced down at yourself.

your old clothes were back...a black windbreaker jacket, green cargo pants, a black shirt, and your worn out adidas sambas.

it was strange to be out of the green tracksuit you had grown accustomed to, the one that labeled you as player 399.

instinctively, you reached into your pockets and felt something solid.

pulling it out, you saw a golden debit card. you stared at it, baffled, knowing it hadn’t been yours before the games. with shaking hands, you excused yourself.

“okay.. well i’m fine, really. thank you for helping me. i just… i need a moment.”

the woman hesitated, clearly unsure about leaving you alone.

“are you sure? you don’t look fine.”

“i’ll be okay,” you insisted, forcing a smile.

“thank you again.”

only six steps away, an atm caught your eye. you slid the card into the machine, your hands trembling.

the screen loaded, and when the balance appeared, your breath hitched. 11,398,890,025.33 won.

its the money you won in the games, split between the survivors..

before you could process the shock, a sharp pain shot through your stomach.

it felt like a punch, but there was no one there.

the pain grew worse, twisting and radiating until you doubled over.

“ahhh!” you yelped, clutching your stomach as the cramps intensified.

your knees buckled, and you collapsed, gasping for air while clenching your teeth.

the woman hadn’t gone far and came running back at the sound of your cries.

“hey! what’s wrong? oh my god, are you okay?!”

she knelt beside you, her panic rising as she saw the state you were in.

“i don’t know,” you choked out, tears welling up as the pain overwhelmed you.

“it hurts—my stomach—”

“okay, okay, stay with me. breathe! i’m calling an ambulance.” she pulled out her phone, her voice trembling as she gave the dispatcher your location.

“hang in there, okay? help is on the way.”

the pain was unbearable, and your vision blurred, the edges going dark as you struggled to stay conscious.

the faint sound of the woman’s voice and the distant wail of approaching sirens were the last things you heard before everything went black.

waking up, you felt a strange tightness around your stomach and a dull ache in your body.

the beeping of machines surrounded you, and cords were attached to your belly. you blinked, your heart racing as you noticed an iv in your arm.

panic set in when you realized your clothes were gone.

sitting up too fast, you scanned the room. relief washed over you when you spotted your jacket draped over a chair.

the golden debit card was still tucked in its pocket. you exhaled shakily, clutching the fabric for reassurance.

the door creaked open, and a doctor entered..a woman with a kind face and a soft smile.

“hello! I love to see that you’re awake. that’s good,” she said gently.

“please, lay back down. you need to rest.”

reluctantly, you complied, your mind still racing.

“what happened? why am i here?”

the doctor grabbed a clipboard, jotting something down before meeting your eyes.

“i need to ask you a few questions first by obligation... how have you been feeling lately? any nausea, fatigue, or changes in appetite?”

you frowned, her questions making no sense.

“i don’t know… i thought it was just stress. why are you asking me this?”

her expression softened, and she set the clipboard aside.

“miss. l/n… you’re in labor.”

the words hit you like a freight train.

“what?!” you gasped, sitting up again, ignoring the ache in your body.

your hands instinctively flew to your stomach.

“that’s not possible. i didn’t even know i was… i mean… i can’t be pregnant!”

the doctor gave you a reassuring look.

“your bloodwork confirms it, and you’re already in active labor. you didn’t notice the signs?”

you stared at her, your mind spiraling. sure, you had a small bump, but you chalked it up to overeating during the games.

you never connected it to something like this.

“you’re 36 weeks along,” she continued gently.

“it’s a bit early, but your baby seems strong. we’ll monitor you both closely since you haven’t had prenatal care. it’s a girl, by the way.”

the revelation stole the air from your lungs. a girl. you were carrying a child...a child you hadn’t even known existed.

your heart pounded as reality crashed down on you.

“oh my god,” you whispered, tears welling up.

the doctor reached out, her tone soothing.

“is the baby’s father here? do you want us to call him?”

you shook your head, panic rising.

“i don’t know how to contact him. i don’t even have a phone.”

“that’s okay,” she said softly.

“we’ll make sure you have support. we can arrange for a doula to be with you during delivery.”

the next few hours blurred together. the contractions came faster and harder, and you clung to the voices of the doula and two doctors, their encouragement keeping you grounded.

after two hours of pushing..

“here she is,” the doctor said, placing the tiny, squirming bundle on your chest.

you stared down at your daughter, your breath catching. she was beautiful, with the softest features... dae-ho’s nose, his eyes, his face in miniature. but her lashes and lips were yours.

“hi, baby,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks.

she was quiet and calm, looking up at you with wide eyes. after the chaos of the past week, her presence felt like the first peaceful thing in your life.

the doctor explained that your stress likely triggered your early labor, but at 36 weeks, your daughter was healthy enough.

as the hours passed, you couldn’t take your eyes off her. she was perfect, even though the circumstances were far from it.

the looming question hung heavy in your mind...how were you going to tell dae-ho?

he was the only man you’d ever been with, the only person who could be her father.

without a phone or any way to contact him, the thought of reuniting with him felt impossible.

clutching your daughter close, you whispered a silent promise.

no matter how hard it would be, you’d find a way to tell him. he deserved to know, and your daughter deserved her father.

november 16th felt surreal as you approached the cozy cafe where you and dae-ho had agreed to meet.

your daughter was bundled up snugly in soft layers, her tiny face peeking out from the ivory blanket that kept her warm against the autumn chill.

the weight of her in your arms felt grounding, a reminder of how much had changed in such a short amount of time.

stepping inside, the familiar aroma of coffee and pastries filled the air, pulling you back to the times you had spent here with dae-ho before everything fell apart.

your eyes scanned the room until they landed on him.

he sat at a table in the corner, wearing one of the casual outfits you remembered so well...a simple black jacket over a gray hoodie and dark joggers.

it was such a stark contrast to the green tracksuit you had last seen him in during the games.

when his eyes lifted and met yours, they softened, lighting up with a mix of surprise, relief, and joy.

then, his gaze dropped to the baby in your arms, and his expression froze, his eyes widening in shock.

he stood as you approached, his movements hesitant but filled with emotion.

“hey,” he greeted, his voice quiet but trembling slightly.

“hey,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you stopped in front of him. you glanced down at your daughter, then back at him.

“she’s yours.”

dae-ho’s breath hitched as his eyes locked onto the tiny bundle in your arms.

“mine?” he asked, his voice cracking.

he reached out cautiously, his large hands trembling as they hovered near her, afraid to touch but desperate to hold.

you nodded, gently placing your daughter in his arms.

“yeah. she’s our daughter, dae-ho. eight days old.”

the moment he held her, his composure shattered. his hands cradled her so delicately, as though she were made of the most fragile glass.

a tear escaped the corner of his eye as he looked down at her, his lips parting in awe.

“you were pregnant?” he finally managed to ask, his voice thick with emotion.

you nodded again, swallowing hard.

“i didn’t know. not at any point throughout the nine months.. not until after the games, when they dropped me off. i thought the cramps were just stress, but then… i went into labor. the doctors said I had a cryptic pregnancy, their first ever in their careers actually.”

dae-ho looked at her tiny face, taking in every feature—the little nose, the faint dimple in her cheek.

“she looks just like…” he trailed off, blinking rapidly.

“she looks like my second oldest sister.”

“she does,” you agreed softly, watching the way your daughter gazed up at him with pure love in her sleepy eyes.

his voice cracked as he whispered,

“i should’ve been there. i should’ve…” he paused, guilt flickering across his face.

“i wish i had known. i’m sorry i wasn’t there for you.”

you shook your head, reaching out to touch his arm.

“dae-ho, none of this is your fault. the circumstances… none of it was in our control. you’re here now, you have us.. and that’s what matters.”

he looked up at you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“i promise you,” he said, his voice firm but filled with emotion, “i’m going to be here for both of you. no more running, no more excuses. we’ll be a family, and we’ll put everything from the games behind us.”

you nodded, tears streaming down your face as you watched him hold your daughter like she was the most precious thing in the world.

her tiny fingers curled around his thumb, and his heart seemed to melt at the sight.

the three of you will make it this work. you’d leave the trauma of the past behind and move forward

together.

masterlist

[onriyuview]

solace

genre: fluff, smut, 18+ mdni

wc: 3.5k

summary: idol bf!sion comforting his jealous gf!reader, after this clip of him kissing a fan’s camera starts going viral on socials again

cw: soft dom!sion, oral (f), fingering (f), a lot of sweet talk, dirty talk, body worship, praise kink, unprotected pinv sex (wrap it pls), multiple orgasms, reassurance from sion, tender love-making, pet names (baby, beautiful, angel, princess, sweet girl, pretty girl, etc)

a/n: am i the jealous gf fan in question? maybe! ₍ᐢ. ༝ .ᐢ₎

as sion’s incredibly supportive girlfriend, you like to keep up with the wishies’ activities through every social media site you can think of.

being a fangirl yourself, you enjoy seeing different perspectives of concerts or fan events that other czennies attend, allowing yourself to live vicariously through them as to not expose your relationship with sion.

it especially helps when he’s practicing late nights or when he’s out of town, away on tour.

sure, you have countless amounts of his hoodies and special pictures and videos only meant for your camera roll and your eyes, among other physical items that keep you company in his absence, but you can’t help watching him through the eyes of a fan while he’s away.

after all, you’re his number one fan and he’s yours.

scrolling through twitter, you notice a clip from july 2024 making its way back onto your feed, circulating faster than you can even process. it’s on most of the major sion fan accounts you follow and— oh! you’ve seen this before... maybe?

your eyes scan the quick, 2-second clip of your gorgeous boyfriend kissing a fan’s phone camera, the video on a loop now as it turns into a 1-minute clip, then a 3-minute clip, your eyes not being able to leave sion’s features on your screen.

if you hadn’t seen it before you sure have now, the short collection of frames etched into your eyelids at this point.

once you realize just how many times you’ve watched this goddamned video, you sigh and swipe out of the twitter app, tossing your phone onto your covers.

thankfully, sion was only at practice at the company so you knew he’d be coming home to you tonight. but damn who let him think it was okay to give his fans that much fanservice?

you know he loves you and only you, and you know it’s also just his job, but sometimes the negative thoughts get to you.

no one told you how hard it’d be dating an idol as a non-idol, especially if he was a member of the newest and growing nct unit, or especially if he was this dedicated to making his fans fall in love with him, or especially if nearly every fancall video you saw of your boyfriend was of him outright flirting with his older fans.

frustrated with your own thoughts, you huff toward the ceiling, the air blowing a few strands of your hair out of your face, a furrow etched onto your eyebrows as you stare up at the soft glow cast by your bedside lamp.

before you can go deeper down the rabbit hole, you hear your apartment door beep and unlock, a pair of heavy feet stepping through the entrance, snapping you out of your thoughts. you don’t move to get up and greet your boyfriend who calls out for you first.

“baby? are you still awake?” he asks, his voice ringing through your place. he can see the soft light emitting through the gap under the bedroom door as his tired feet pad their way closer. he knows you usually stay up to wait for him.

he knocks gently after not hearing a response from you, softly pushing the door open to find you staring at the ceiling mindlessly.

“baby? earth to y/n?” sion calls out to you, dropping his duffle bag to the ground and nudging your shoulder with his hand.

“hi sion,” you say, catching the way his right brow raises when you call him by his own name and not a nickname or pet name.

your hand that’s further from him moves around your bed, finding your phone and unlocking it to open twitter.

“what’s this all about?” you ask, bringing your phone to his face with your other arm. his mouth opens to say something before his eyes flicker back to the screen where he’s watching himself kiss the camera. he winces slightly at having to re-watch his own fanservice.

“baby,” he starts, making your arm retract from him and toss your phone away once again. “is this why you didn’t answer when i came home?”

when he sees the slight pout set on your lips he fights back a smile, running his hand through his hair and perching himself at the edge of your bed.

“are you… jealous?” he asks, the lilt at the end of his question making you roll your eyes and turn your body away from him, sighing dramatically.

he bursts into a fit of laughter, clutching his stomach as he gasps, struggling to breathe with how hard he’s laughing at you.

“it’s not funny, sion!” you shout, but his giggles drown you out almost entirely. you sigh once again, picking up your phone but avoiding twitter at all costs.

after what feels like forever, sion’s laughs come to a gradual stop, and you feel him lift up your comforter to slip into bed beside you.

you scooch forward just a bit to give him some space, and once he’s finally settled, his face is right behind your neck, the hairs there standing up at the feeling of his breath on your skin.

“babyyy,” he says cutely. you can hear the slightest movements of his mouth with how close he is to you. “hey, come on… look at me, beautiful.”

you really didn’t know how not to give into him. you sigh again, your phone leaving your hand once more as you finally turn to face sion, slightly startled by his proximity.

after finally getting to look into your eyes for the first time since this morning, he takes in your pouty face.

your brows are furrowed the same way they do when you’re focused on something (or just frustrated, in this case), your bottom lip jutting out even more than when he found you.

he knows you might be definitely are upset with him, but this is the cutest you could look while ignoring him.

wordlessly, he starts pressing kisses to your worried features. first between your brows, then your slightly red nose, and both of your flushed cheeks, down to your chin and back up to finally meet your lips.

your features soften at the contact points, but you don’t reciprocate the kiss. your lips are still pouting at him as he looks at you.

one of his arms finds its place across your waist as the other comes up to caress your face.

“what’s wrong, hm? are you mad at me over this video from july?” he asks, his fingers dancing under your shirt to soothe your skin, the thumb of his other hand smooths out your still-worried brows.

you huff once more, letting yourself melt under his touch, eyes closed to focus on the feeling of his fingers against you.

“i’m not mad,” you mumble.

“so you are jealous?” he teases. your eyes open to be met with his signature wide smile that reaches his eyes.

“yes, sion. i’m jealous of your fangirls and the way you talk to them,” you sigh.

he kisses you once, twice, then three times on your lips, and you let him.

“you’re the one i come home to every night,” he assures you, a kiss following his words. “and you know i only have eyes for you,” another kiss. “and you’re the only girl in my world,” another kiss. “and doing all that fanservice is just my job,” sealed with a final kiss.

“i know,” you respond. “i just missed you today and seeing that clip of you stirred something in me i guess…” you frown again, realizing where your jealousy stemmed from.

he tsks at you, pressing another kiss to your brows once more.

“i’m sorry for making you miss me, my sweet girl,” he pouts, mirroring your expression from before. “how about i make it up to you, hmm? show you how much you mean to me? how much i love you?” he offers, each question followed by a kiss.

you don’t respond, watching and waiting to see what he’ll do next if you just lay there silently. to your delight, he starts trailing kisses down across your jaw and along your neck, nipping slightly to try and get a reaction out of you.

you let out a hitched breath, locking eyes with your boyfriend who’s already pulled away from the space in your shoulder. his hands are holding you so gently and his lips are so soft on your skin, brushing past the goosebumps that raise on your chest when you feel his breath there.

his fingers are toying with the hem of your top, silently asking you for permission to take it off, in which you respond with a silent nod of your head.

sion was thankful you didn’t wear a bra around the house, especially not before bed, because that was one less article of clothing keeping him from appreciating your beautiful figure.

“you’re so pretty, princess,” he whispers, a hand reaching out to knead at your chest. his thumb flicks against your nipple gently as he watches you squirm under him. a soft smile makes its way to his lips. “always so responsive for me, hmm?”

he leans forward again, now capturing your other nipple in his mouth, running his tongue across it and groaning at how quickly it hardens.

your hands fly to his hair, nestling into the dark locks to ground yourself. you’re trying not to give him any verbal reactions (for now), but your body moves before you can even think, sion knowing it almost better than you do.

he shifts to nip at your other nipple, switching places with his hand. your breathing is picking up now, his free hand pulling at the elastic of the waistband of your bottoms, the material snapping softly at your skin.

“you gonna let me take care of you tonight, angel?” he asks sweetly, rolling the bud that was in his mouth between his thumb and pointer finger, smiling and biting his lip at how breathless you already look underneath him.

“mmm,” you whine, hips bucking up as a signal for him to continue.

he taps at your hips to raise your hips once more, pulling your bottoms down in one swift motion and tossing them aside somewhere.

sion trails his lips down your torso, fleeting kisses being scattered across the expanse of your skin.

“my pretty baby,” sion whispers, almost to himself.

his hands are holding you at your hips as his mouth meets the skin there, coursing them down your thighs and calves as his lips follow, dragging across your limbs and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“you have no idea what you do to me,” he mumbles, gently pushing your legs apart and settling down between them. he gasps at the wet patch that decorates the center of your panties now, his thumb coming up to rub the damp fabric.

“you missed me too, didn’t you?” he’s smiling, watching you squirm. “i can tell just by how wet you are,” he says, applying more pressure to your clothed clit before pulling the center of your panties aside and exposing your slick core.

your bottom lip is tucked between your teeth, biting down so you don’t give sion the audible satisfaction he wants, but your body betrays you entirely. just the way the string of arousal clings to the fabric is enough to satiate your boyfriend.

“this pussy missed me too, hm?” he leans down, your scent flooding his senses. “thought about her all day, you know.”

he starts flicking his tongue across your clit gently at first, then with more pressure as he pins your squirming hips down to the bed.

“ah-ah,” he tuts. “let me take my time with you, pretty girl,” he says before attaching his mouth to your core, alternating between wrapping his lips around your clit and fucking his tongue in your hole.

he’s truly indulging in your pussy, not in any rush and wanting to drag out your pleasure for as long as he can. it’s wet and messy, sion’s trademark while eating you out, and you love it.

“tastes so sweet, angel,” he growls, his voice dropping and more gravelly than before, making you leak with arousal.

pulling away from your heat, he works a finger through your folds before burying it in you with one swift motion, the wetness of your juices and his spit aiding his digit. you cry out at the feeling of finally feeling somewhat full of him.

“sion!” you gasp as his mouth reattaches itself to your clit, sucking almost too softly as he fingers you deliciously, your original idea of staying quiet thrown out the window. he just feels— “so good, sion,” you whine, your hips bucking against his face.

you almost miss how he’s smiling up at you as he keeps working you, adding another finger and pumping them in and out of your heat. sion revels at the reactions you finally give him, the squelching sounds filling the room and turning you on even more.

“that’s it, baby. let me hear you,” he purrs, fingers stroking at the spongy part of your walls before suckling your clit with more fervor now, anticipating your orgasm before you can even process it yourself.

“c-cumming, sion— fuck! i’m cumming,” you cry before the hot white feeling in your stomach releases, sending you over the edge as sion’s movements don’t stop, helping you ride out your high around his fingers and in his mouth.

“that’s my girl,” he grins at you, finally pulling away from your core. the bottom half of his face covered in your cum, his lips puffy and shining even in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

you tug at the collar of his shirt, silently asking him to come up to you.

“what is it, pretty?” his smile growing as he takes in your flushed cheeks and messy hair. “need your words, baby.”

“kiss me,” you mumble, pulling at him once more before his lips meet yours. you can taste yourself on him as your tongue swipes across his lower lip, his tongue stroking against yours, sion deepening the kiss with more passion.

you both pull away breathlessly, resting your foreheads against each other for a short moment.

“you’re so beautiful, you know that?” he asks, eyes boring into yours.

“i know… you tell me everyday,” you blush.

“you know i think you look prettiest when you’re cumming?” sion asks, pressing another kiss to your lips before his hands move down to his sweats, pulling them down along with his underwear.

his hard member springs up, the tip red against the pale skin of his stomach, precum smeared across the head of it. “only just got started and this is what you do to my cock, sweet girl.”

he hunches down to steal another kiss from you, pushing your legs up to lie between them before grabbing the base of his cock and running the tip through your folds.

you whine at this, your hips pushing up so he can just get it in, but sion shakes his head and tsks at this.

“impatient aren’t you? i thought i told you i wanted to take my time with you, angel,” he reminds you, his free hand coming to pin your hips down to the mattress once more. “i’ll give you what you want, don’t worry your pretty head.”

the head of his cock finally latches onto your entrance, making you gasp and sion hiss at the sensation. “always f-feel so good— fuck, so good around me baby,” he stutters as he pushes his length in.

despite how many times you and sion have had sex, you’re still not adjusted to his size, the stretch burning delightfully each time.

“my perfect girl,” sion breathes out once he fully buries himself to the hilt. “with the most perfect pussy made just for me, hm?” he all but whines at the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, his hands planting into the pillow on either side of your head to steady himself.

he’s kissing you now, distracting you from the discomfort between your legs. you can feel everything he wants to say just with his plush lips against yours.

he pulls back to pepper your face with more pecks, watching the furrow in your brows disappear slowly as your vice-like grip on his throbbing member slowly lets up.

“that’s it angel,” sion coos, his big brown eyes sparkling with pride. “you’re doing so good for me, takin’ me so fuckin’ well,” he praises. his hips start drawing back and pushing forward gently but firmly, filling you up all the way every time.

“‘s too big, sion,” you whimper, feeling the the tip of his member kissing at the most deepest part of your walls. your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, the pleasure too overwhelming to keep them open and trained on your boyfriend.

“i’ve got you, baby. you’re okay, just keep taking it,” he groans, picking up the pace in hopes of drowning out the pain with pleasure. it works like a charm, moans of pleasure spilling from your lips and encouraging him to keep going.

he’s cupping your face with one hand while the other keeps him propped up, swiping at your lips and your cheek so gently, making you open your eyes and look at him.

“i love you so much, sweet girl. you’re so perfect and good to me and you mean the world to me,” he’s blabbering now, but the sweet words go straight to your pussy, making you clench around his length.

a whine bubbles out of your lips and your eyes are squeezed shut again at the immense oxytocin rush. he’s fucking you just right while spilling the most sugary words in your ears and you feel like you’re floating.

his hand that was holding your face moves down to start rubbing circles against your clit and your back arches at the contact, your hips fighting against his hand to buck up and meet his thrusts.

“ah— sion!” you cry out, your walls fluttering around him more consistently now. “fuck! sion please,” you pant.

“what’s wrong, baby?” sion asks, feigning concern. he knows exactly what’s wrong; he knows your body like the back of his hand, but just needs to hear you say it.

his head dips to the crook of your neck to nip at the skin and your arms fly around his shoulders, one of your hands finding its way in his hair to tug at the strands in an attempt to ground yourself.

“i— fuck! i’m gonna cum,” you’re gasping now, causing sion to speed up his thrusts as well as his fingers on your clit.

“y-yeah? gonna cum for me pretty girl?” he rasps. “gonna make a mess around my cock? you gonna show your boyfriend how much you love him, hmm?”

and that’s all it takes for the tension in your lower stomach to burst. the cry that leaves your mouth has your throat feeling raw, but you don’t care as sion’s teeth graze your neck, the skin muffling his moans as he paints your walls with his hot cum.

his lips leave your neck as his hips still, your walls still spasming with the aftershocks of your orgasm. “always so good for me, angel,” sion mumbles, slotting your lips together as he rides out both of your highs.

after catching your breaths, and much reluctance, he finally pulls out of you. the sudden empty feeling and his fluids spilling out of you making you wince and groan at once.

“sion!” you whine, dragging out his name for emphasis, your face scrunching up as he chuckles at you.

“i know, baby. hold on,” he says, getting up to dampen a towel to clean you up. “come here, let’s get you cleaned up so we can cuddle.” his signature smile spreads across his face, his cheekbones rising with it.

you roll your eyes but are unable to avoid the corners of your lips turning up to mirror his own.

once you’re both clean and redressed in comfortable sleeping clothes, sion pulls you close to him, your back pressed against his front.

“have i made it up to you?” he asks, burying his face into the back of your neck.

“you have... and i’m sorry for getting upset with you earlier,” you pout, even though he can’t see your face. he shushes you and pulls you impossibly closer.

“don’t be sorry, beautiful. i know you just missed me,” sion mumbles, kissing your neck. “i’ll make sure you never miss me that much again, okay?”

you hum in response, the fatigue taking over as your eyelids shut, feeling nothing but love and reassurance as you fall asleep in sion’s arms.

tags: @rikupid @sminiac @be-my-sunrise ♡

thank you to my baby @rikupid for beta reading as always ♡

[amaiwrites]

ITS JUST A KISS

Monoma… is broke. That is, until, he starts working part time in Recovery Girl’s office by copying her quirk. It’s all going well until a certain someone shows up with injuries that need to be healed…

inspired by this post! monoma x fem!reader, fluff <3

word count: 1.6k (!!!)

“Kirishima, Y/n— you’re up next.” 

Y/n takes in a deep breath before she steps onto the platform. Today’s class is combat practice, and students were put in pairs assigned by Mr. Aizawa. Y/n’s up against Kirishima— and he’s great! But that’s the problem. He’ll definitely be a tough opponent. 

“Whoever gets the other to step off the platform first— or to surrender, will win.” 

Kirishima gives Y/n a determined grin as he hardens his arm, and Y/n returns the favor as she powers up her own quirk. 

“And… fight!” 

Kirishima throws a punch, Y/n dodges. Y/n kicks Kirishima’s leg. Kirishima gets a hit in on Y/n’s side, then Y/n punches him right in the chest. It goes on like this, each of them landing hits one after the other. Everyone is watching the fight closely, excited to see who will win in the end. Then, a loud noise is heard, causing Y/n to turn her head. 

“I am here!” All Might exclaims, and Y/n gets a tiny bit distracted from her fight because, hello, it’s All Might! 

Wait, focus— fangirl about All Might later! She looks back over to Kirishima, and his hand flies right out to her face. She stumbles backward, and falls onto the green grass next to the platform. Right out of bounds. 

“Kirishima wins this round.” Aizawa says, “Y/n, are you okay?” 

“Yeah…” Y/n didn’t hit her head on the ground or anything, but she puts her hand on her forehead and sees that it has some blood on it. 

“Ah, shit. Sorry Y/n! I didn’t mean to hit your head like that, it wasn’t very manly of me.” Kirishima offers his hand out and helps Y/n stand up. 

“That’s okay,” she smiles, “nothing Recovery Girl can’t fix later. Good fight!” 

The cut on her head wasn’t bad enough to cause great concern, but Aizawa sent Y/n down to Recovery Girl’s office anyways. 

Dang, I really wanted to see Momo go up against Uraraka, Y/n thinks as she knocks on the door to the nurses office. 

“Come on in.” A voice— definitely not Recovery Girl’s voice, says. Y/n cautiously opens the door, only for her eyes to meet—

“Monoma?!” 

“Y/n? How delightful to see you here!” Monoma welcomes her inside, warm smile on his face, but Y/n is still skeptical. 

She crosses her arms. “What are you doing here?” 

“Recovery Girl was kind enough to let me work part time in the nurses office.” Monoma smirks, “The best part about it is that I get to see how many of you 1-A idiots end up in here injured! Not nearly as many Class B students get hurt like—“ 

“Now, now, calm down Monoma. You’re supposed to be helping.” Recovery girl says, and Y/n tries her best not to laugh. “Heal her cut for me, will you dear?” 

Monoma’s smug demeanor seems to fall, his eyes going wide as his head turns to Recovery Girl. “Heal her? But— it’s just a small cut!” 

“Wait, how would he heal me?” Y/n cuts in. 

“Well, as you know, Monoma here can copy quirks,” Recovery girl explains, “I’ve had him copy my quirk so he could heal non-emergency people. This way I can go be right on the scene of classes like yours, where bad injuries are prone to happen.” 

���Interesting. Besides his quirk, Monoma is the least suitable student to be helping out like this. From what Y/n has seen, Monoma only likes to help his classmates, and definitely notClass 1-A. 

“Speaking of, I’m off to find your class now. They’re outside on the platform left of the main building, yes?” 

Y/n nods. “Take good care of our patients, Monoma!” The door closes behind Recovery Girl as she leaves the nurses office.

And now it was just the two of them. 

Monoma sighs. “Sit.” He says, pointing towards one of the doctor’s beds in the room. 

He always has so much attitude, Y/n thinks, but she sits where he told her to anyways. She would leave, but it’s probably not the best idea to leave her cut unattended. 

Stupid Monoma. His ‘I’m-better-than-you’ attitude and that smug smirk that’s always on his face is so… ugh. If he was less of an asshole, he’d be cute. 

Wait, what am I even saying??

Monoma isn’t cute. He’s not. Y/n hasn’t thought that, not even for a second—

“Damn girl, this cut’s worse than I thought.” Y/n almost jumps at the sound of Monoma’s voice next to her. He stands in front of Y/n, placing various medical items down next to her. When he’s done with that, he frowns. “Who did this to you?” 

Y/n studies Monoma’s expression. Usually he’d be teasing her, saying that with his idiotic smirk on his face. Call her crazy, but he almost looks… worried? Weird. 

“Kirishima,” She answers, “it was an accident though! I got distracted and his hand slipped.” 

Monoma grunts in— understanding? Disapproval? Y/n doesn’t know. 

“Idiot.” Monoma mutters, and Y/n’s not sure if he’s talking about her or Kirishima. His hand taps Y/n’s thighs. “Spread out your legs.”

She gives him a suspicious look. “My cut’s on my head, dummy.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” He pushes her legs apart himself, and then he stands between them. “See? Now I can get to your cut easier. Dummy.” 

Monoma takes a wet cloth and starts to clean around the cut and he— well, he smells nice. That might seem like a random thing to say, but he is right up in Y/n’s face right now, which is being flooded with the smell of subtle cologne. He just smells nice. 

Y/n usually keeps her distance from this guy, but he isn’t that bad up close. The Monoma that Y/n sees right now isn’t the obnoxious little shit that’s always talking trash about 1-A, but a concerned… classmate? Friend? 

And, Y/n has to admit to herself, maybe he’s a little cute. Just a little bit. It’s totally the blue eyes— or the hair. Or the voice— Okay, not gonna think about that anymore. 

Monoma puts the cloth down, his eyes meeting Y/n’s. “I’m gonna kiss you.” 

“What?!” Y/n exclaims, her face quickly turning pink. Where the hell did that come from? Monoma just laughs. He gently takes Y/n’s face in his hands and kisses her forehead. 

Wait. Copying Recovery Girl’s quirk… he was just kissing me to heal my cut, that makes sense! Y/n hadn’t realized that until now. 

His quirk must’ve malfunctioned somehow, though, because that kiss didn’t make Y/n feel better. It made her heart start beating really fast, and— is it hot in here? Because Y/n definitely feels hot. 

Oh. 

Monoma’s smirk appears back on his face. “Y/n, are you blushing? Aww! Want me to kiss you again?” 

“Shut up!” Y/n’s eyes go to anywhere in the room, just not on him. Shit, she can’t like Monoma! The guy that, like, all of your friends hate? That hates you? Well, isn’t that just great. 

Monoma’s still standing where he has been, right in Y/n’s space. It’s not helping. She finally decides to look back at him, because he probably should have moved away by now. He really should, before Y/n does something that she’d regret. 

“Oh,” He says simply, taking Y/n’s left hand in his. “You’re bleeding here too.” He wipes the blood off of Y/n’s hand with a cloth, then presses his mouth to her palm. Another kiss, yet there wasn’t even a cut on her hand. That was just blood from her forehead. 

“Um… there’s no cut on my hand.” Y/n points out, and Monoma just nods. 

“Great observation, Y/n,” He teases, “I’m aware of that. I just wanted to see if your face could get any redder.” 

Y/n rolls her eyes. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that to get me to blush.” She says, despite her now red face. 

“Alright then,” Monoma starts, leaning in just a little bit closer. “guess I’ll have to keep trying then.”

“I…” Before Y/n can stop herself, she glances down at Monoma’s lips. I’m about to do something stupid, aren’t I? “Y-“

“Y/n! Are you in there?” Ochako knocks on the door, startling both Y/n and Monoma. Y/n quickly stands up as she walks into the room. “…Monoma? What are you doing here?” 

“Oh, Ochako! Who won your match?” Y/n asks, partly to take the attention off of her but mostly because she’s curious. 

Ochako grins and puts her hands on her hips. “Me! Momo was quite the tough opponent though, I just barely won…” She shrugs. “Speaking of class, Aizawa sent me to find you. We should hurry back, Deku and Bakugo are up next!”

If you know Izuku and Bakugo, you know that this fight is going to be intense. It’ll definitely be entertaining to watch too, which is why Ochako grabs Y/n’s hand and starts to lead them back to class. 

Y/n tries to look over her shoulder at Monoma, but Ochako closed the door on their way out. 

“Hey, what was Monoma doing in there?” Ochako asks. 

Almost kissing me, Y/n thinks, but she probably shouldn’t say that. “He’s… working for Recovery Girl. Copied her quirk and stuff.”

“Whatt? I never would’ve imagined him as a nurse, he doesn’t seem like the type of guy to help others like that…” 

Y/n nods in agreement. He didn’t seem like her type either, yet here he was making her all flustered. 

Seriously, out of all people, Neito Monoma?

You’re an idiot, Y/n. 

should I make a part 2? 🤭

[matchpointfaist]

tis the damn season ; art donaldson

cw; drinking, smut!!, art and reader are really kinda pathetic <3

if i wanted to know who you were hanging with

while i was gone i would have asked you

it's the kind of cold, fogs up windshield glass

but i felt it when i passed you 

there’s an ache in you put there by the ache in me 

but if it’s all the same to you, it’s the same to me

five years ago

“hey, stranger,” you can practically hear art’s smile through the phone, “how was your day?” you roll onto your back, phone clutched in your hand like a vice, “it was alright. just cramming for finals,” you sigh softly, “hows stanford?” “god, it’s incredible,” he laughs, “i wish you were here. you’d love it, baby. it’s like a movie,” you hum in response, ignoring the ache in your chest that had made its home there the day he flew out, “how’s training going? do you have any matches soon?” “oh, it’s great!” there’s that smile again, “i’ve got a match tomorrow, actually, so i should probably go soon. it’s at 7 am,” 

“that’s good,” you smile to yourself, “do you feel good about it?” “yeah, i think so. coach says i’m gearing up to do really well this season,” he says proudly, and your chest aches again at the thought of missing it. “i’m sure you will,” you try to keep your voice even, “well i’ll let you get some sleep, i love you,” “love you more,” he murmurs, “goodnight, baby,” 

art texts you the next morning to inform you he ‘killed’ his match, attaching a poorly taken photo of him grinning ear to ear, gold metal ribbon around his neck. it’s little crumbs like this that keep you sane, keep you feeling close to him, ever since he left. ‘knew you’d win! you’re so cute. call later?’ you reply, your cheeks pink as if you’re texting a crush rather than your boyfriend of two years. ‘course i will’ he replies, and you’re already counting down the minutes until the nighttime routine you’d grown accustomed to. 

at nine oclock, you lay across your dorm bed, eyes practically glued to your phone screen as you wait on art’s nightly call. by nine thirty, you’re mildly annoyed, and by ten, you’re worried. you pick up the phone, pressing call on his contact, biting the inside of your cheek as you listen to the phone ring. he picks up after a moment, the music in the background nearly drowning out his voice, “hello?” 

“hey,” you try your hardest not to let your irritation bleed into your tone, “did you forget to call?” “fuck, baby. i’m so sorry,” you hear shuffling, and the music gets slightly quieter, “patrick invited me to this party since we won this morning, it totally slipped my mind,” “it’s fine,” you tell him slightly too quickly, “just have fun, kay? i’ll talk to you tomorrow,” “wait- are you sure?” he sounds confused, and you wonder if its the alcohol or the change in your tone that’s thrown him off. 

“yeah, of course,” you hope your voice sounds as light as you intend it to, “we can talk tomorrow night, it’s okay. have fun,” “okay, i guess,” he sounds so hesitant you start to think he might just leave the party, “well goodnight then. i love you,” “night. love you too,” you hang up before you can talk yourself into begging him to stay on the phone. the next night, he calls at six oclock sharp, and you can tell the entire phone call that he’s eager not to upset you. 

he’d always been that way. he’d do something, just one tiny mistake, and spend days apologizing or being extra sweet to fix it. you’d lost count over the years of just how many grand gestures he’d made, of how many times he’d professed his love for you for no reason other than to get back in your good graces; not that he’d ever left. 

you and art were cheesily in love, so high school in the way that you couldn’t keep your hands off of eachother, couldn’t go a day without speaking. you were practically sewn at the hip from sophomore to senior year, even applying to colleges together. when he got his offer from the stanford athletics department, you didn’t think much of it. he seemed flattered, of course, but you never thought he’d actually go. 

he loved boston, he loved his family, he loved you, so it made no sense when he came over one afternoon, admission letter in hand, and a wide smile on his lips. “i accepted their offer!” he’d told you, ever so proud, “they gave me basically a full ride, as long as i stay on the team and keep my grades up. can you believe that?” 

you could believe it, of course. everyone knew how wildly talented art was, from such a young age. he’d started playing tennis at his parents country club when he was just a kid, and eventually worked his way up to attending a tennis academy not far from your high school. he had promise, drive, ambition, and a naivety just subtle enough to make him an excellent candidate to be pushed too far by coaches. 

you’d known, then, that things would change between you. everyone told you nothing would happen, you two were meant to be, but you could feel it. he’d be across the country, practicing incessantly, playing matches, attending parties thrown by teammates you’d never meet. and you’d be home, working for a degree that might help you make a name for yourself. 

over the course of a few months after that party, the calls grew less and less frequent. by summer, you were lucky to hear from art more than once a week. you knew he was busy, of course, and tried to ignore the way bitterness coated your tongue with every word you said to him on your brief calls. you tried to ignore the way he talked about all the friends he’d made, friends that you didn’t know at all, and tried to ignore the way he barely sent you photos anymore.

the one thing getting you through was the promise of summer break with art. two short months together, to pretend everything was back to normal, that you weren’t living completely separate lives. you woke up at six am sharp the day of his flight home, eagerness keeping you from sleep, and picked up your phone to call and see when he’d be landing. he answered after four rings, his voice raspy from sleep, “hello?” 

“good morning!” you replied cheerily, “when’s your flight?” “oh, hey baby,” you heard some shuffling before he returned to the phone, “uhm, i actually was just gonna call you about that,” “is everything okay?” your cheery tone slipped, dread festering in your stomach before you could even place why. “yeah, of course. i just meant to tell you, coach wants me to do some training over the summer. he thought it would be best if i stayed here, just for this first year, for some extra drills and stuff,” 

you sat silently, tears pricking your eyes, as you listened to his excuse. “so what, then? you’ll be home for a month shorter, or?” “i won’t be able to make it home at all this year, honey. i’m so sorry, but you can come stay with me, yeah? i’ll buy your ticket, it’ll be just like we planned,” your heart broke even further at how optimistic he sounded, as if he hadn’t just shattered your expectations of the summer, of your reunion. “i have work, art,” you said quietly, “you know that. i have to make up for being off through the school year,” 

“you don’t need that job, baby. come on, come see me,” “no, art!” you argued, your brows pinched in frustration, “i do need this job, actually. some of us don’t have trust funds, believe it or not. jesus,” your words came out sharper than you intended, all the hurt and anger from the last several months finally revealing itself. “i’m sorry,” he said after a moment, “this is really important to me. this is my shot, yknow? i can’t mess this up,”

“yeah,” your voice was bitter, but you truly did understand, “i get it. stay there, it’s for the best,” “i’ll come home next summer, okay? it won’t be like this every year,” he sounded like he was pleading with you, and it took all your control not to snap at the irony of it. “art, i think it’s best we don’t keep trying to make this work. you need to focus on your tennis and school and i need to focus on mine, and let’s just call it even, okay? we had a really good run,” 

“a good run?” he repeated incredulously, “are you trying to break up with me?” “i am, yeah,” you hoped you sounded confident in your answer, “i just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to draw this out any longer than we need to,” “what the fuck? where is this coming from? is this about the summer?” he sounded so genuinely confused, so lost, and it only angered you further. “it’s just not working, art. everyone warned us long distance wasn’t a good idea,” 

“baby, please,” he was practically begging, a slight whine in his voice that you knew all too well. “no, i’m sorry, okay? but it’s done,” “you can’t just-” “bye, art,” you hung up before you could talk yourself out of it, letting yourself cry as hard as you’d wanted to for months now. you curled up in bed, sobs wracking your body, and mourned the relationship with a boy you’d once thought you’d marry. 

you thought he’d text or call, tried to prepare yourself to reject him again, but the contact never came. he listened, for once. art donaldson had completely slipped out of your life, without a trace.

three years later, you graduated top of your class, landed your dream job in journalism, and moved to an apartment in the city. you tried your best not to keep up with art’s achievements, but it was difficult when he won nearly ever tournament he stepped foot into. he made all the sports headlines, and you turned your head at each of them, hoping to convince yourself you never even knew him. 

i parked my car right between the methodist 

and the school that used to be ours

the holidays linger like a bad perfume 

you can run, but only so far

i escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave

but if that’s okay with you, it’s okay with me

current

you returned home for the holidays, driving down from the inner city to your parents home on the outskirts of boston. about three miles out, you’re lost in thought, music playing through your speakers and snow dusting your windshield. you’re jolted when you hit a deep pothole, cursing under your breath when your tire pressure light kicks on. 

you pull over into the closest parking lot, grabbing your coat and stepping out of the car to survey the damage. “fuck me,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration when you see the tire’s gone flat. you’re in the middle of trying to pry your spare out of the trunk when headlights illuminate the area around you, and you hear a car crunching over the snow. 

“you alright, miss?” a man calls, his voice sharp in your ears against the quiet of the evening. “just got a flat, i’m taking care of it,” you reply, not bothering to look back over your shoulder as you yank your spare free finally. “it isn’t safe to drive on a spare in this weather,” he tells you, and the slight crack of his tone raises the hair on your arms, the familiarity seeping through you deeper than the cold breeze. 

you turn, finally facing the stranger, your breath in your throat. there he stands, his blonde hair peeking out underneath the hood of his puffer coat, his cheeks tinged pink from the wind. “art?” you exhale, your heart suddenly racing in your chest, “what are you doing here?”

“oh,” he looks as startled as you feel, his blue eyes widening ever so slightly, “i was just passing by on my way to my parent’s, i saw a car and thought you’d need help,” “i’ve got it,” you say too quickly, “i’ll call my dad to pick me up, don’t worry about it. thanks, though,” 

“i can take you,” he offers, gesturing to his car parked just feet away, still running, “it’s on the way, anyway. i don’t mind,” “i think i’ll just call my dad,” you argue, “you can go, okay? i got this-” “please just let me take you home,” his tone sounds like you’d be doing him a favor, not the other way around, “come on, i’ll help you get your stuff, i’ll fix your tire tomorrow,”

you never could say no to his puppy dog eyes, even after all these years. so there you sit, shivering in art’s too nice car, trying not to look at him as he drives you home like he had so many times before. “it’s good to see you,” he says finally, breaking the silence, and you hum in response, unable to muster up any real conversation. 

“i moved back,” he says after a few more minutes as he turns the corner to a main road, “i don’t live here, but it’s not far. i live in the city near the university,” “congratulations,” you mumble, trying to keep your tone dismissive, anything to lessen the nostalgia you’re surely both feeling. 

“hey,” he sounds as if he’s pleading, and you allow yourself one glance to his side of the car, taking in the way he’s biting the inside of his cheek, the sadness in his eyes. “yes?” “i just wanted to say it’s good to see you,” he says softly, “i mean, what’re the odds, yknow? we’re both back home and i just happened to see you. it’s like fate,” 

“yeah,” you agree quietly, “fate, sure,”

so we could call it even

you could call me babe for the weekend

'tis the damn season, write this down

i'm stayin' at my parents' house

and the road not taken looks real good now

and it always leads to you in my hometown

he pulls into your parent’s drive, keeping the car running but leaning back in his seat to look over at you. “you look good,” he says after a moment, “not that you looked bad before, obviously, it’s just, you’re beautiful-” “shut up, art,” you cut off his rambling, “it was sweet of you to drive me, but thats all this was, okay? this isn’t fate. it’s just a coincidence,” 

“even if it is just a coincidence, i’m still happy to see you,” he says quietly, “is that not okay? i missed you,” “shut up,” you repeat, “you didn’t miss me, that’s- this whole thing is ridiculous, okay? enjoy your holiday, art,” “wait! can’t we just talk? i mean, even if its not tonight, we could catch up,” he pleads, eyes wide and borderline frantic. you shake your head, opening your door and pausing to glance back at him, “merry christmas, art. please don’t call,” you go inside trying your best to pretend nothing happened, dodging questions about the car in the driveway and greeting your family. the look on art’s face as you closed the car door keeps you from any real christmas spirit. 

you wake the next morning to a text from an unsaved number, your brows furrowed as you open the notification. ‘i know you said you don’t wanna hear from me, but i just wanted to say i’m sorry and it was really nice to see you. wanted to give you a fair warning, your parents invited my family to their christmas party tonight.’

you groan, tossing your phone on the bed and getting in the shower, ignoring the butterflies nerves, in your stomach at the idea of seeing art that night. by six that evening, you’re slightly tipsy off of spiked eggnog, trying your best to ignore him from across the room. he’s there, blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes and a stupid christmas sweater that reminds you far too much of the first holiday you spent together. 

you hate the way he mingles with your family so easily, like nothing ever happened. the way he laughs at your dads jokes, the way he’s sipping wine with class he must’ve learned at stanford. the way he keeps looking your way, smiling tenderly, the way he eventually approaches you with all the hesitation of a high school crush. 

“you look beautiful,” is the first thing he says to you, sounding almost pained by it. “thank you,” you hope you sound cordial, hope he doesn’t pick up on the way your hands shake around your glass, the way your cheeks are already pink. you tell yourself it’s the alcohol and not the scent of the cologne he’d been wearing all those years ago, the last time you’d seen him. 

he looks around, gesturing to the decorations, “good party,” “we don’t have to do this small talk shit,” you say after a moment, “it’s in the past, alright? let’s just get through the party and we’ll all go back to normal,” “don’t you see i don’t just want to get through the party? i’m trying to talk to you here, okay? i missed you, i just wanna catch up,” the pleading is back in his tone, accompanied by his trademark puppy dog eyes, and you find yourself following him onto your parent’s balcony with no hint of the hesitation you’d been full of earlier in the night. 

“i saw you on tv,” he tells you after a few minutes of small talk, sipping his drink and glancing at you, the wind rustling his too perfect hair. “yeah?” you smile ever so slightly, “what for?” “it was a news station, i saw it at the airport. you were reporting on the protests in new york,” he smiles back, and your chest aches at the sight. “i’m not usually on tv, i just write the stories, but it was cool. glad to know it’s getting good airport coverage,” you joke, “i’ve seen you on tv a few times myself. wimbledon and all,” 

“yeah?” his smile widens, “and what’d you think?” you pause, and you’re not sure if its the eggnog, the nostalgia, or his vulnerable expression, but you find yourself being honest. “i thought you were incredible,” you say softly, “the way you play is just amazing, art. always has been,” “thank you,” you choose to ignore the crack in his voice, “you have no idea how much that means, to hear you say that. that you still even think that,” 

“congratulations,” you smile around the rim of your glass, “you’ve won every competition i’ve even heard of. that’s a big deal,” “none of that matters,” he waves a dismissive hand, “i don’t wanna talk about tennis. i wanna hear about you,” “my life is pretty boring,” you shrug, “i write columns and go home and think about work. that’s really all,” “you’re not- are you seeing someone? i figured you’d be married or something,” 

“no,” you laugh like its ridiculous, because truthfully, it is. you’d loved him so much that it made the idea of trying to love someone else seem pointless. in the back of your mind, you’d always thought you needed to let it go, to move on, but you never found the time or the willpower. forgetting him and learning someone else was a move you were never prepared to make. “me neither,” his voice snaps you from your thoughts, “not since-”

“i’m sorry i broke up with you,” you blurt out, “it was shitty of me to do it over the phone like that, and i’m sorry,” “oh,” he blinks, looking slightly caught off guard, “no, i mean, it was my fault. i get it, looking back. i’m sorry i didn’t fight harder,” “you were a really good boyfriend,” you say quietly, blinking away hot tears, “like, the perfect boyfriend. it was just too much, being away from you, and i felt like it was just a matter of time before it ended anyway,”

“i never planned on leaving you,” he says softly, “i hope you know that. i loved you more than anything in the world, and i know we were just kids, but i really, really fucking loved you. more than tennis, more than stanford, more than any of that shit. i didn’t care about my future if you weren’t in it, but then you removed yourself from it and i figured i could at least just keep going,” 

“i know,” you nod, because you genuinely do know. you know he loved you, how much he cared about your relationship. a moment passes, and you can feel his eyes on you, your heart picking up and a fresh flush prickling your skin. “you are so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and before you can think better of your decision, you’ve set your drink down and turned to him, all your logic gone out the window. 

“this is a bad idea,” you tell him, but you’ve already taken a step closer, “and i’m only in town for a bit,” another step, “but i missed you so fucking much, art,” “come show me how much you missed me,” he smiles, his eyes almost as dark as the sky around you, “let’s make up for lost time, yeah?”

you kiss him in an instant, and everything else seems to fall away as you feel his lips on yours for the first time in years. he tastes like sparkling wine and chapstick and everything you love about the holidays, about home. he kisses you with the same desperation he’d always had back then, his hands digging into your hips and pulling you flush against him. 

the reality of the evening starts to sink back in as hands progress lower, and you pull away, panting softly against his lips, “cant fuck you in my parents house,” “aw, come on, it’ll be just like old times,” he murmurs teasingly, trailing his lips down your neck. “art,” you whine, “we can’t,” “they’re all busy with the party,” he murmurs as he nips below your ear gently, “do you want me to stop?” “no,” you answer easily, “let’s just- can we go to my room? someone’s gonna see us out here,”

you end up in your old bedroom, sprawled out on the comforter kissing art with a feverish desperation. “missed you so fucking much,” he groans as you unbutton his pants, slipping your hand into his boxers, “god, thought about you all the time,” “yeah?” you smile against his lips, “thought about me all the way in california?” “fuck- yeah, i did,” he bucks his hips into your hand, his cheeks pink, “everyday, every night,”

you hum, satisfied, trailing your kisses down his chest and sliding down the bed, “where you going?” he asks, his brows furrowed. “you don’t want my mouth?” you ask, gazing up at him as you push his boxers down, “no,” he smiles hazily, “no, baby. missed you too much for that, just c’mere. let me fuck you,”

you nearly cry at that, the warmth flooding your chest at his words despite the overall nature of what the two of you are doing. you kiss him again, leaned over him, and he pulls you up into his lap, scooting up to prop himself up against the headboard. 

“come here,” he mumbles between kisses, positioning your legs to straddle him, “do you wanna do this?” “‘course i wanna do this,” you nod, and he pushes the skirt over your dress up around your hips, running his thumb over the skin, “you’re so beautiful,”

“stop lookin at me like that,” you mumble, feeling entirely too entranced by the expression on his face, “kiss me,” he’s nothing if not obedient, his lips on yours immediately, kissing you with fervor. you reach between the two of you, sitting up briefly to toss your underwear somewhere, wrapping your hand around him once more to line him up. “god,” he groans softly, tipping his head back as you slide down on his cock, your eyes closed in bliss, “fuck, you’re so wet, god,”

you bury your face in his neck, trying your best to be quiet as you adjust to his size, rocking your hips slowly, “art,” you moan breathlessly, and before you know it he’s cradling your head, pulling you in closer and fucking up into you. you bite down on his shoulder gently, hoping to suppress the noises leaving you, “god, not gonna last,” he all but whimpers, “you feel so fucking good,”

you just moan in response as he hits all the right spots, your thighs shaking slightly as he fucks you, “fuck, baby- oh my fucking god,” he groans, pulling you off of him gently, “didn’t wanna finish inside you,” he pants, eyes closed as he steadies his breathing, “let me,” you say softly, taking him in your mouth, moaning around him at the taste of yourself on his skin. 

“oh, fuck me,” he moans, hands tightening in your hair and bucking his hips slightly. he’s filling your mouth soon after, your name falling from his lips like a curse as he cums down your throat, panting and whining hoarsely. you wipe your mouth, sitting up to kiss him again, surprised when he pulls you up closer. “sit on my face,” he mumbles against your lips, “let me make you cum, please,” 

“i’m okay,” you start to argue, but he’s shaking his head, looking at you with the sweetest expression, “just let me make you feel good,” you let him lead you, as he lays back on the bed and pulls you up onto him, your thighs on either side of his head. 

he laps at you desperately, and you have to clutch the headboard to keep from collapsing against him as you rock your hips, borderline grinding against his mouth. “art,” you moan, one hand on the headboard and one in his hair, “fuck, you’re so good,”

this only encourages him, and he slides a hand under you, pushing gently on your hips to make you rock against his face once more. you whimper at that, digging your teeth into your bottom lip as you feel yourself getting closer. ���art,” you gasp, “gonna-“ 

your vision is spotty as you come undone, his needy mouth never slowing as he works you through it, sucking at your clit until your legs nearly give out. “too much,” you whine, pulling at his hair to deter him. he hums against you, licking one last, slow stripe against you before helping you down, looking up at you with dilated pupils and a spit-slick mouth. 

you wipe his face gently with your duvet, smiling slightly down at him, “that was-“ “you were so good,” he praises, “can’t believe how much i missed that,” he pulls the blanket over your legs, and your chest aches at the tenderness of the action. “you shouldn’t stay,” you say softly, hoping it doesn’t come across as hurtful, “i don’t want my parents to see, yknow,” 

“yeah,” he nods, but he looks slightly hurt, like he’s taken aback, “yeah, good point. i’ll call you?” “yes, please,” you nod, watching as he pulls his clothes back on, “i’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?” “yeah,” he nods, fastening his belt, “uh, goodnight, then,” “night, art,” you smile sleepily, and he lets himself out without returning a smile of his own.

time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tires

now i’m missing your smile, hear me out

we could just ride around 

and the road not taken looks really good now

and it always leads to you in my hometown

the next day, you send him a quick text, slightly worried he’d thought you’d just dismissed him. ‘wanna get coffee today? i leave tomorrow’ 

‘sure’ he replies, and you’re sure then that he’s hurt, but you hope to rectify it, ‘great! starbucks on third at eleven?’ ‘okay. see you there’ he sends back, and you pull on a sweater and leggings, going to spend some time with your parents before heading out to the coffee shop. 

he’s sitting in a window seat when you arrive, much more casual than he had been the night before. he’s in a stanford hoodie and joggers, and you think of him away at college, how at home he’d probably been there. you shake the thought away, walking over to his table, “hey,” you smile, sliding into the booth across him. “hey,” he smiles slightly, “so you leave tomorrow?”

“oh, yeah,” you nod, “gotta get back to work. how long are you in town for?” “told you i moved back,” he says, looking slightly irritated, and you feel a pang of guilt, “yeah, sorry, it completely slipped my mind. so you’re just-“ “what is this, exactly?” he cuts you off, brows furrowed, “i mean, im glad last night happened, but is that just it? you’re gonna shoo me away and go home like nothing happened?” 

“what?” you falter, caught off guard, “art, no, i just have to go back home, it’s not like i’m discarding you,” “you sure are acting like it,” he grumbles, “what, then? are we gonna try and make this work?” “make this work?” you repeat, “what, exactly? i figured it was just because we’re both back home, i don’t-“ “what? so what, then, just a one time thing? that’s kinda fucked up to not tell someone,” he snaps, and you hate yourself in the moment, all the memories of the way you’d been so short when you’d broken up with him resurfacing. 

“maybe it’s better if it’s just for the weekend,” you say quietly, “i mean, we’re both busy, and this was just by chance,” “bullshit,” he shakes his head, “if you don’t wanna be with me, that’s fine. alright? genuinely, no hard feelings. but don’t give me that ‘we’re both busy shit. what’s the real reason you won’t try again?” 

“we both are busy,” you say defensively, “i just don’t- i’d hate for either of us to get hurt again, that’s all,” “i get it, i do, but we’ll never know if we don’t try,” he says softly, “i never wanted to hurt you before, okay? i’ve pictured so many routes for my life and you were always in them,” “we’re different people now, art,” you say carefully, trying to keep your tone even, “you don’t know if we’re still even compatible, and we never know what could happen,” “will you stop doing that? you don’t have to be so calculated about everything. it’s not gonna kill us to try, right? we’ve changed, sure, and we’re at different places in life, but we’re the same people. we’re still the people we were when we were in love,” 

“that was a long time ago,” you say quietly, tears pricking your eyes, “i just don’t wanna make a mistake and get us both hurt,” “i’m fine with being hurt by you. don’t you see that? i have loved you since we were sixteen years old. we can get to know each other again, we can take it slow, i’m not asking you to marry me here. just give it a chance, please?” the sincerity in his tone breaks you, and you’re nodding before you can talk yourself out of it. “yeah,” you sniffle, “yeah, i’d like that so much. i’m sorry, i’m just scared, and i didn’t think we’d ever get another chance,” you ramble. “i know you’re scared,” he says softly, taking your hand in his over the table, “we’re gonna take it slow, alright? we’ll be alright,” “yeah,” you nod, tracing his knuckles with your thumb, “we’ll be alright,” 

[caws5749]

hiii i saw that you were looking for fluff requests so could u do something like natasha and reader both busy and not looking while walking through stark tower or soemthing and y/n obviously knows who natasha is has a bit of a crush on her and nat is like teasing her. later on they keep bumping into each other until nat is like “i’m done with the meet and greets” and asks reader out on a date. (nothing specific lol take and pick at if if you’d like, i just wanted to pitch in! :))

WARNING: THE BAREST HINT OF THIRSTING AND MENTION OF BREASTS IM SORRY I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF

A/N: you know that part in despicable me where she goes "IT'S SO FLUFFY" ?? yeah that came to mind reading this because ITS SO FLUFFY AND CUTE AND SUCH A GREAT IDEA THANK YOUUUUU <3

Consulting with the Avengers team was something you still couldn't believe you had the privilege to do. You had more been consulting with the brand itself versus the actual humans, but it still felt like a privilege.

You were a bit rushed leaving the compound, face glued to your phone looking at the plane tickets for the upcoming weekend. You were set to visit a friend but hadn't even bought your ticket yet. With one strap of your bag hanging off your shoulder, you rounded the corner and bumped right into someone...hard.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry," you quickly got out, eyes finally moving up to meet lively green ones. Your jaw dropped a bit.

"Are you alright?" Natasha asked softly, eyes scanning your form for obvious injury. When she found none, she focused back on your face. She didn't even seem fazed by the collision.

"I'm fine, I'm so sorry, are you?" You questioned quickly, nearly slapping yourself in the face once you realized you asked an Avenger, hell, the Black Widow, if a bump into you had injured her.

"I'm alright, thank you. You seem like you're in a hurry, I won't hold you up."

All you could do was nod as she walked around you and you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding.

++++++

Somehow the exact same thing happened again, though this time it wasn't your fault.

Natasha was exhausted, just returning from a mission that drained her both physically and mentally. While it was only just after five in the evening, she couldn't wait to go straight to bed after a warm shower. She exited the elevator as soon as the doors opened, walking right into you.

"Oof," you muttered in surprise.

"Are you- I know you," the red-head stated, her eyes scanning over your form for injuries as they did previously, even after just a simple bump. "I'm sorry, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Natasha," you replied as you sent a reassuring smile. The corner of her mouth quirked upwards.

"And you are?"

You blushed. "I'm Y/N L/N. I consult for the Avengers."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'll see you around."

You entered the elevator, your legs feeling like lead. You turned just in time to watch her continue her walk down the hall. It just might have been the greatest sight you'd ever seen.

++++++

The universe must have been against you because it just seemed utterly impossible for you to not run into the widow.

It was just after midnight and you couldn't wait to leave. You were trying to finish up a big project and you knew having it done as quickly as possible would be a good thing, especially because you believed in the project so much. So you stayed in a conference room working later than normal. But you were exhausted and it was time to go home so you quickly tossed your things in your bag and headed out the door. You reached the door to the hallway and pushed it open with all of your might, eyes widening when a certain red-head had to jump out of the way to avoid it.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Again," you rushed. "Are you okay?"

"It didn't hit me, I'm okay," Natasha responded, before tilting her head. "What are you doing here so late?"

"Just trying to finish up a project. I hadn't really realized what time it was, to be honest."

She hummed thoughtfully. "You know, we do have guest rooms if you want to stay the night. You might not want to be out driving this late."

God, you knew it wasn't her protecting you or being worried about you because there was no way, but you couldn't help the flutter in your chest and the red that creeped into your cheeks.

The woman across from you smirked at your pink cheeks. She wasn't sure if you were like this with everyone or just her, but she loved it.

"Oh, I'm fine, but thank you. That's really nice of you... guys. That's really nice of you guys," you babbled, feeling the heat spread to your entire face.

"Just don't tell Tony I offered, he's picky," she laughed, before pulling the door open and walking through.

"Might want to check your temperature, Y/N, you're flushed like you have a fever," Nat yelled back, amusement in her tone.

No chance she hadn't noticed then. You were certain you couldn't make any bigger a fool of yourself.

++++++

The next time you ran into her, thankfully there were no close calls for injuries. Natasha had just finished her workout and was heading to the kitchen for a snack, where you had just finished a conversation with Sharon Carter, who had helped you on your latest project. She had told you to grab anything you wanted from the snack drawer, something that was somehow empty by the end of each day.

You searched the drawer for something that seemed appealing, jumping out of your skin from a smooth voice that came from behind you.

"Find anything good in there?"

"Natasha," you breathed as you whirled around, heart pounding in your chest. Your eyes widened as you took in her sweaty appearance, skin glistening, the top of her breasts just visible with the sports bra she had chosen.

"See anything you like?"

You flushed a deep red. "I, uh-"

"In the drawer, Y/N," she interrupted, eyes sparkling with humor.

"I- not really."

She walked up to you, the distance between the two of you now nearly nonexistent. You could see the dimension in her green eyes, the sweat bead slowly making its way down her right temple, the gentle pink to her full lips. You gulped, trying to steady your breathing when her arm reached around you, grazing your skin as she grabbed a snack from the drawer.

"I'm tired of these little meet and greets. Meet me here later at 8."

She gave you a wink and walked out.

You weren't quite sure what you'd done to deserve a date with that woman, but boy were you grateful.

[freakspectors]

EDGAR ALLAN POE SMUT HCS.

E. A. Poe | BSD x Gender-Neutral Reader Smut Headcanons .

warnings ; smut, my pussy wrote this and its 3 am prepare for errors, body worship, cunnilingus, blowjob, face sitting, breeding mention, praise kink, cowgirl position, etc.

authors note ; hi guys .. im a bsd fan .. a big one ... and i fucking love poe so much im obsessed with him . this entire thing is self indulgent i swear to you (which is why female anatomy is mentioned more in this . sorry guys TvT) . sighs deeply .... anyways go read ttyl ! ^_^

✦ Poe's a Sub. 100%. But occasionally, he's not -- and on those occasions he's a Service Dom.

✦ He acts high and mighty, yet nearly crumbles from the slightest bit of teasing from you. He stammers and whines so pathetically from just a simple touch. If you leave Poe alone after that, later you'll feel him wrap his hands around your waist and meekly grind against you to show how hard he is for you.

✦ Poe loves when you gently place kisses on his body, especially his neck. He's the most sensitive there. Bite him there and you'll receive the most pitiful whimpers you ever heard. His tip gets all sticky from just that alone .. please stroke him off , he deserves it :((

✦ Speaking of Poe's dick, it's HUGE. It's a little girthy and very long. He simply has big dick energy I don't know what to tell you. He cums so much, too. Hot, sticky, salty ropes always gush out load by load, emptying himself out. He has so much more, though .. <3

✦ A pillow prince when he's subbing. He's an absolute mess when you suck his dick, his whimpers and babbles filling the room while you bob your head and swirl your tongue around him. He begs to cum, even if you never asked him to.

✦ Service Dom Poe isn't entirely different.. But you can easily tell them apart.

✦ Poe always does body worship. He'll kiss you all the way down your body like you do for him, mumbling praise as his lips touch your warm skin.

✦ His favorite part of you to kiss is your thighs. If you're plus sized or have larger thighs you're putting him in pure bliss, I'm telling you. Poe would bury himself in them if he could.

✦ On that note, Poe is into face sitting. Heavily. He likes it when you close your thighs around his head when you cum, along with you grind on his tongue and make a mess on his face.

✦ He himself isn't exactly a messy eater, though. Poe's slow and calculated, sucking and flicking your clit with his tongue exactly the way you like it. He doesn't mind if you squirm either; it lets him know how well he's doing. The same applies if you have a dick - he sucks at a reasonable pace, and doesn't mind if you start to facefuck him.

✦ Poe's so focused on pleasing you he denies his own needs. He'd deny his own orgasm just to feel you cum around his cock a little more .. He just wants to make you feel good :((

✦ Please praise him. Doesn't matter if Poe's subbing or dominating; just do it. It's his favorite thing ever. He loves to give and receive it.

✦ Poe likes to make you read his novels when he's giving you head or fucking you. The way you stammer and sputter always makes him smile.

✦ Poe writes out the fantasies he has of you nearly all the time. They range from you topping him, fucking him until he can't cum anymore to Poe breeding you, his thick cum pouring out of your stuffed hole. He never lets anyone read them - not even you.

✦ His favorite position is Cowgirl. It works for when he's a sub and a dom -- you can take control, riding him while he grips the sheets desperately, or he can hold you by your hips to help you bounce on him; yanking out your fourth orgasm for the night. Poe loves the duality of it.

✦ Aftercare with Poe is very sweet! When he subs he's tired as fuck, so he ushers you to join him for bed and whispers about how much he loves you as you both doze off. When he doms, he's not as tired, but he's all over you making sure you're okay and if you need anything. He's infatuated with you, his various love poems for you has proof of that.

@ HELUVAKU 2023 . do not share or repost .

[invisible-lint]

Everything Could Be Okay: Chapter 2

Rhys x Tamlin's sister!reader

Summary: Time for a wedding... Or is it?

Warnings: nothing I can think of!

Word Count: 1.4k

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 3

You had never been a fan of parties. They were too loud, the air too stuffy, and the gossiping of the Spring Ladies you were forced to be with was obnoxious. But you had endured, not wanting to leave Feyre to fend for herself. Or worse, alone with Ianthe who had gotten on your nerves with how pushy she had been while planning what was supposed to be Feyre’s wedding.

Feyre had made her escape nearly an hour ago, heading up to bed, and here you were, stuck, nodding along as you pretended to listen to the gossiping females surrounding you.

"From what I hear, Tamlin is looking to find a husband for you." That got your attention. The room is suddenly suffocating, air struggling to find its way to your lungs. Your hand reaches to your necklace, finding the ring on it. The group of females look worried as you back away, feeling as if the room is closing in on you.

"Excuse me," you manage to mumble, fleeing the room.

You run out to the gardens, not noticing Tamlin following you. You stop, sinking into a bench, trying not to hyperventilate. How could he do this? Just because he wanted to pretend nothing had happened doesn't mean that you would. He sits next to you and you stand, anger flooding your body when you see him, pushing out the panic.

"How dare you?" You hiss, blinking back the angry tears stinging your eyes.

He sighs. "What is it I've supposedly done now?"

"When were you going to tell me you were looking for a husband for me?"

"You're overreacting. Someone asked about marrying you, and I simply said I would think about it."

"No. You don't get to make that choice for me. I am not ready for that. I am not ready to replace him!" You start to pace, trying to keep your temper in check. 

"It would be good for you to move on. You can't be unhappy forever." 

You lose your temper then, whirling to face him, pointing a finger at his chest. "You don't understand! I felt it when he died! It was like my soul was cleaved in two! That is not something I can just move on from! Had Feyre's death been permanent you would not have moved on as quickly as you're asking me to!" He growls at you, claws sliding out. You flinch, knowing you said too much and turn to run further into the garden. This time, Tamlin doesn’t follow.

The next day is the wedding, and you sit with Feyre as several females prepare her. You watch silently, trying to gauge how she is feeling. You know about the nightmares, and have noticed the weight loss, but you don’t know what to do. What can you do? You’ve offered companionship, tried getting her to eat more of the foods you know she likes, but still, she is wasting away before your eyes. You can’t talk about Under the Mountain, no one talks about it. No one can. 

You notice Feyre is looking more and more nervous, and you ask for the room to be cleared. Once it’s just the two of you in the room, you pull a chair over so you’re right next to her, taking her hands in yours.

“I was nervous before my wedding too. I couldn’t eat anything and then I almost fainted right before the ceremony.” You squeeze her hands gently. “But I knew it was what I wanted. Andras and I had courted for nearly 20 years before I agreed to marry him. I suppose what I’m trying to say is if you’ve changed your mind, if you need more time, I will come up with some sort of reason to postpone the wedding. Tamlin doesn’t need to know about any of it.” 

Feyre sits for a moment, thinking before shaking her head. “I’m ready. I want this.”

You nod, squeezing her hands again. “Then I’ll be right there with you.”

You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised, Rhysand was prone to making dramatic entrances after all. Showing up right as Feyre was walking down the aisle seemed just like the kind of thing he would do.The part of you screaming its relief is hard to ignore, but you manage to shove it down.

You stride across the lawn, chin held high, interrupting the argument. "I will be joining Feyre as a chaperone." The violet eyed male quirks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile. “Oh?”

"Yes. No part of your agreement said she had to spend her time in your court alone." 

"I suppose not."

"So I'm joining her." 

At that moment Tamlin finally finds his voice. "Absolutely not."

"You'd have her go alone?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at your brother. 

He sputters, before making an exasperated noise, knowing you're right. 

"Don't worry Tamlin, I'll treat her better than you treated my sister," Rhysand taunts. You shoot him an exasperated look, ignoring your brother's snarl. He crosses over to you and Feyre, wrapping an arm around each of you and winnowing away, whisking both of you off to the night court.

You wander the halls of the mountain palace, thinking back on the past few hours. It’d been hard not to laugh when Feyre had thrown her shoes at Rhysand, the look on his face had made it even harder. But more than anything, the interaction made you feel relieved. Somewhere in there, who Feyre truly was still resided. And he had managed to draw her out. 

You walk out onto a balcony, glad that whatever magic seems to be heating the interior of the palace extends to out here. You gaze up at the stars, lost in thoughts about how you might help Feyre. When you eventually turn to go back inside, Rhysand is standing in the doorway, staring at you, the expression on his face unreadable. He walks over, leaning against the railing of the balcony next to you. 

“This is the second time now I’ve found you roaming in the middle of the night. I’m starting to think you don’t sleep.”

“I don’t.” He raises an eyebrow in response.

“Not well at least. It’s… a long story.”

“One you won’t share with me?”

You cross your arms, shooting him a hard look. “I don’t know you.”

“Ah, yes. But I assume you intend to accompany Feyre everytime. One week a month for the rest of your life gives you plenty of time to know me.”

“I think I know enough.” You squeeze your arms, trying to ignore the way your heartbeat races at the idea of getting to know him.

“Do you make it a habit of assuming you know people based on what you’ve heard?”

“Do you make it a habit of being so obnoxious?” You huff, flinging your arms down to your side, temper stirring. The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smile as he tries not to laugh.

“Are you always so easily irritated?”

You snap, letting everything you’ve been holding in flood out. “You would be too if you were me! I have lost so much and I’m supposed to just smile and pretend I’m okay. That I don’t dream about my dead husband every night. It has barely been a year since he died and someone asked Tamlin if they could marry me. A year! I was with him for almost 100 years and people have the audacity to think I should move on because I can’t be miserable forever! Not to mention that without him, without his sacrifice, Feyre wouldn’t have been able to save anyone! Oh, and speaking of Feyre, I don’t think she wants to marry my brother. But she refuses to admit it and there's nothing I can do and she’s going to end up as trapped and miserable in Spring as I am! And I have nobody to tell this to because the only person who I could ever truly share my feelings with is dead! So I’m so sorry if I’m a little bit irritable.” You finish your rant, chest heaving. Rhysand just stares at you, a little wide eyed, at a loss for words. Suddenly realizing how much you had shared, you turn and run, heading anywhere but there, but he remains rooted to the spot.

He had felt it. Felt all your anger, frustration and anguish down the blossoming bond. Mate. You’re his mate. He lets out a shaky breath, turning to grip the railing, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t tell you. How could he when you had just shouted at him about how you're still grieving your husband? So this, like so many he already carried, would be his sole burden to bear.

A/N: And there it is! I'm already working on chapter 3 and hope to have it posted sometime either this week or early next week. it's already a LONG one! As always, requests are open and feel free to send them on in!

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Taglist: @lilah-asteria @readingislife2006 @acourtofimagines @mistymoocow @irelanrose @darker-december @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @loving-and-dreaming

[entitled-fangirl]

That's a love rune. Casts a love spell.

Pelle x reader

Summary: Pelle carves the reader a love rune to make her realize their potential for each other.

Words: 2,122

Warning: Love runes, not forced love but manipulated?? Weird cult stuff

Author's note: This is my favorite thriller of all time, so obvs I'm doing this. :)

Masterlist

.....................................................................................

In the short few years Pelle and Y/N knew each other in college, she knew she wouldn’t be able to bear the day that he had to leave again.

It seemed that her wish would come true. Very true. 

Here she was, in the shared room of the Harga. Her bed felt cold and hard, and her eyes were barely able to catch any sleep. As hard as she tried, it just wasn’t happening. She sighed, sitting in bed, and rubbing her face with her hands. Her hair was wild from the consistent tossing and turning. 

She heard a noise.

Her head turns quickly to the side, her eyes scanning every bed carefully, checking on each of her friends. Pelle sits, two beds down. He sits on the end of his bed. He holds something in his left hand, and a knife in his right. It takes her a while to realize he’s carving something. He’s so focused, he doesn’t look up at her. He seemed to not notice her at all.

She pushed herself to the side of the bed carefully, her socked feet touch the ground cautiously. She stands, stretching her arms up. She didn’t want to scare Pelle. And she definitely didn’t want to wake the entire room.

His eyes finally flicker up at her movements, so vibrant, it’s like she could see the blue hue in the dark. Or maybe because as of now, his eyes were wide. He masks it quickly with a smile.

“Y/N, what ever is the matter? It’s nearly 3 am. You should be getting your beauty rest.” Even at the darkest part of the day, he still worried for her. Or at least, she thinks it’s the darkest part of the day. It’s hard to tell with all the windows and doors closed. 

She gives a soft shrug, walking to him slowly and quietly, “I’m not sure. Just can’t sleep.”

He chuckles softly, “Don’t worry, Darling.” He pushes his things further up the bed and away from her view, opening his arms, “Come here. Sit with me.”

She gives a soft smile and does so. Sitting by him always felt right. It felt cozy. And warm. Mostly because his arm had wrapped its way around her shoulders. “I’d hate to bother you from your… work, Pelle.”

He laughs quietly, “You did nothing of the sort. Truly.”

She takes this as an answer. “Tell me what you were doing?”

Pelle is slightly frozen in time, his gaze fixed on her face. What was he going to tell her? Whatever it was, he would have to say it quick, for he feared melting under her gaze if fixed on him for too long. A simple glance from her could send him to the moon or leave him in a trance for what felt like years. “It’s…. An old tradition.” Okay. He could make this work. But, Y/N is a curious thing, so chances are-

“How so? What is it?” 

He called it. He loved her open and curious nature, but in times like this, it could be his downfall. She turns her body to look back at the bed, but his hands come to each side of her shoulders, stopping her. They were now very close.

He could feel her breath on his face. It was driving him wild. He’d have to get this done, and fast. “It’s a rune. I’m carving a rune.”

She nods. “Carving a rune? Sounds interesting enough,” her voice was so soft. It made him want to reach out just a little further towards her and- 

“And why in the middle of the night?”

He looks down to the ground. Think of something, Pelle. “Uh, yes. I don’t find myself with enough time to do it during the daytime activities. And it’s a rather… intimate thing to do.”

Her cheeks turn pink. She stands quickly, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m so sorry, Pelle. I didn’t know. I hope I didn’t ruin it, or-“

His hand reach up to hers, pulling her towards him. “Relax. Nothing is ruined. Nothing at all. In fact, I believe it made it better.” His eyes bore into hers, as if he could read her every thought. If he could find a way too, he would have already done so. To him, this girl hung the moon and the stars. And if he didn’t already have a religion, he’d spend his days worshipping her. 

Her eyes bore back into his. “Are you sure, Pelle? I can leave like it never happened.”

He shakes his head with a smile, “No. I’d rather you stay.” He pulls her more towards him by the grip he has on her hands until her standing body is in between his legs as he sits on the bed. “Perhaps,” he even thought, “You could help me bless it?”

She shakes her head. “Bless it? Me? Pelle, what does it do?”

The panic sets in his head again. But Pelle was no idiot. “It helps things grow.”

“Grow?”

He nods. “It will be fine as it is, but,” He tilted his head back and forth, “it would be stronger with another soul to bless it.” He couldn’t have made this better if he planned the entire thing.

She lets out a shaky breath, looking down at his pleading blue eyes. She was a cautious woman, and while she liked Pelle, she couldn’t help but feel the strange vibes coming from the other members of the group. Or perhaps, just a dark spirit. She frankly was not spiritually sound enough to know the difference. 

He noticed this hesitation and pulled her closer, his hands now moving her the outside of her thighs. “Y/N. Please. It would mean so much to me.”

She sighs, “What do I have to do?”

He takes this as a yes. He quickly stands, turning to grab the ruin. He then takes her hand with his other and drags her out into the moonlight. Weird to finally see the moon after a few days. 

He holds the almost finished ruin in his hands, and holds it up to the moon. He brings it back down after a while, holding it out to her, “Now, you must kiss it.”

She tilts her head, “Just kiss it? Anywhere?”

Pelle is beside himself at this opportunity. Not only was it rare to have the scenario happen to a rune like this, but it was highly celebrated in the Harga. His eyes couldn’t look away from her as his breath became uneven. 

She takes it from his hand gently. She holds it in her own, her other hand running over the carefully carved dialect in it. For a piece of wood, it was quite beautiful like this. She looked back up at Pelle for one last chance of backing out. He didn’t seem to want to back out.

So, she pulled it up to her lips gently, kissing the top of it. 

Pelle let out a shuddered breath as if she had just kissed him. She was slightly weirded out, but the last thing she wanted was to embarrass her friend. She hands it back to him. “Does that work?”

Pelle’s smile was wide. She can’t remember the last time she had seen him this happy. “Oh, Y/N,” he said, taking her face in one of his hands, “You’ve done me an honor. An honor.” 

Still weird out by the event that just unfolded in front of her, she nods. “Of course, Pelle. Least I could do for ruining your quiet time.”

He seemed to melt at her words, “My need for quiet time could never outmatch the need to hear the sweet sound of your voice, Y/N.” 

While her heart felt something at his words, he was a friend. Just a friend. He invited her on the trip with their friends, and here she was, acting a fool. Dare she even think she was liking Pelle?

She nods, “I’ll just… go to bed now.”

He nodded as well, his hand dropping from her face. “Goodnight, Y/N. And may you dream the most pleasant dreams.”

She quickly retreats to the shared room, tucking herself back in. She tosses another 30 minutes in thought before Pelle finally enters the room again. He walks past all of the beds before stopping at the foot of hers. He quietly kneels, his hands reaching under the bed. He then stands up, his gaze on Y/N, and then he hesitantly moves back to his own bed. He simply sits on his, facing hers. He’s unable to sleep the rest of the night. But now, Y/N had no problem doing so.

Morning comes, and Y/N is awoken by Josh lightly pushing her shoulder, his voice low in her ear. “Y/N. Hey, Y/N.”

She stirs, her eyes opening to find Josh kneeling right beside her bed. She jumps back. “Jesus, Josh. Watch what you’re doing next time.” She pulls herself to a sitting position. 

Josh looks concerned. “Listen, Y/N. I… I found this under your bed.” In his hand, the rune Pelle carved.

Her eyes widen, taking it from his hand gently, “Under my bed?”

He nods, reaching down again, pulling a similar one into her line of sight, “One under Christian’s bed, too.”

He grabs that one quickly as well, comparing the two small pieces of wood in her hands. It was clear they were carved by two different people, for the markings were quite different, as well as the stroke of the carving tools they each used. She looked up at Josh. “Pelle told me that it’s a rune to make things grow.”

Josh takes the other rune from her hand, “Well I asked someone else, and they said it’s a love rune.”

Her eyebrows knit together, “A love rune?”

Mark’s voice is heard outside the house, “Josh! Y/N! C’mon!”

Josh sighs, placing Christian’s rune in his coat pocket. “Just, don’t tell anyone about this until we figure out what’s going on.” He then stands quickly and leaves the building, leaving Y/N by herself.

She looks down at the carefully crafted rune in her hand. Pelle had carved this just for her? She blinked. He is even more kind than she originally thought. And quite charming. Her fingers run over the markings. Maybe she’s liked him for a while but refused to acknowledge it. 

She looked up, dreaming about what he’s doing now. His long, wavy hair getting tangled as he runs his fingers through it. How he looks on his knees in the gardens. How skillful his hands are at picking the ripe vegetables. And his eyes. Oh, God, his eyes. She would do anything to have them gaze at her now.

As if her prayer was answered, a figure stood in the doorway of the house. Her head perks up, “Pelle?”

He walks to her quickly, kneeling by her bedside. “Good morning,” he says, setting a plate of food down on her lap, “Please. It’s from me.”

He failed to notice the rune sitting in her lap, now blocked from view by the plate. She nods. “Thank you, Pelle. That was very kind.”

Both of his hands go to her face, cupping her cheeks, “I would do anything for you. You must know that.”

She nods, watching him stand and turn to leave. His voice chips up as he goes, “You must stay here for the day. I’ll fetch you at supper.”

He walks a few more steps before her meek voice chirps up, “Pelle?”

He stops immediately, turning his body around. As he does so, she collides with him, having run from her bed. She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him close and kissing him. He’s shocked, pulling back only for a second, before completely melting in her hold. His hands go to her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss is heavy, as if years of pining had finally led up to this moment. He pulls away, his smile bright. Both now breathe heavily.

“I shall be back at supper. You’ll wait for me, sunshine?”

“I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

He nods at this, leaving the house. 

She moves back to the bed, holding the love rune in thought.

When her eyes do move from the rune, they go to her bed, where a folded paper rests under her breakfast plate. She picks it up as well, opening it.

Inside, a drawing resides. It's Pelle and Y/N sharing a gentle kiss. Under it, a scribbled note:

To today and many more with sunshine, Pelle <3

Her eyes move back to the door in thought.

[restlessn1ghts]

Let Me Love You Pt. 2 ੈ✩‧₊˚

Choi Seung-Hyun x fem!reader

Summary: You and bigbang go to a korean hot pot to celebrate your first concert, and whilst there youre invited to a party and tension rises between the two idols at the party

previous part

Disclaimer: sorry if it takes me a while to release more parts to this ive been busy with my new job but im motivated again <3

warnings: fluff, swearing, steamy makeout sesh

As youre on tour, you wake up late as of how tiring the concerts were. You lean over and grab your phone, the time was 4:35 and you get out of bed, you remember that today seung-hyun had invited you for hotpot with the rest of the group. You stroll over to your suitcase shuffling through clothes, you finally create the perfect outfit.

You straighten your hair and do your makeup, dabbing on liptint and lipgloss, it wasnt like you were trying to impress anyone, or was you? You push past these conflicting emotions and head out the hotel door, grabbing your handbag and purse with you.

Youre greeted by your two bodyguards and head over to your black jeep, sitting in the back, you check your phone, when you see a text from seung hyun.

“you nearly here? we ordered a spicy broth, thought youd like it.”

“im omw!! and yes i luv spicy broth 😋 cya in 10 !” you text back.

He thought youd like it? So he was thinking of you? You shake your head as you look out the window, seeing people point, obviously fans who have spotted you.

You finally arrive at the resteraunt and you step out the car, you leave your bodyguards and walk towards the entrance, clenching your fists. Why was you so nervous? You literally went on tour with these boys but now in a more calm setting youre nervous? You shake your head again and open the door, spotting the group immediately, you smile and walk over, seeing a spare seat next to daesung opposite seung hyun. You greet them and then you notice they look confused about what to do with the hotpot. You grab some chopsticks and place some udon noodles in and some enoki mushrooms. They look in awe as you cook the food, and you question.

“so you all have never had hot pot?”

“no, not really.” daesung says

“so whyd you choose to eat here?” you giggle and say

“oh well seung hyun recommended it as he saw it on your insta-“ daesung is suddenly cut off.

“are the noodles ready yet?” seung hyun asks, grabbing some chopsticks and poking at some enoki mushroom

“yes i think so” you reply and smile to yourself as you dip some beef into the broth, letting it cook. You all joke around and talk whilst eating and notice it gets quite dark. Paying your bill and stepping outside into the cold.

“you going home?” G dragon asks

“yeah i am” you reply

“need a ride?” he responds

“think she will be okay.” seung-hyun interrupts

“alright, oh and y/n im hosting this party tommorow, its at 11 pm but you can come whenever, itll be packed, you coming?” he says

“yeah sure ill go! thanks for inviting me, and i had a great time today, see you tommorow!” you wave and get into your car, greeted by your bodyguard in the drivers seat, you put on your seatbelt and he drives as you tell him about all whats happened. When you realise that seung hyun interrupting couldve been him being jealous, feeling blush creep up your neck, you shake it off, not wanting to be assuming.

You get home and put on your pjs and do your skincare, you then lay in bed, already drifting off to sleep.

You spend the next day mainly lazing around, but as you open your cupboard, you notice you dont have any cup ramen left. You grunt and look at your outfit

Deciding to just fuck it, you throw your hair up in a loose bun and put on some sliders. Walking out your apartment, you feel the cold hit your body, you cross your arms for heat and walk quickly to the shop. As you enter the corner shop, you greet the cashier and walk straight to the noodles, grabbing some quick and paying, hoping nobody would recognise you.

You walk out with your white plastic bag and start to walk home, yawning and looking at the ground, when suddenly you feel a hand on your forehead. You lean back confused and notice you were about to walk into a tree, looking over to who helped you, you see seung hyun and his bodyguards. Your eyes widen as he notices your pajamas and laid back look.

“Seung hyun? You live in the area?!” You ask quick

“Uh yeah, just taking a stroll, you?” He says smirking.

“Oh uh i was getting noodles” You hold up your plastic bag.

“Are you not cold?” He says, looking at your bare arms.

“Uh im good-“ suddenly interrupted by him laying his coat over your shoulders. You feel blush creeping up.

“Oh uh thank you.” You say, scratching the back of your neck.

“s’alright, see you tonight.” he says, winking and walking off.

You hiccup, and blush, quickly walking home with his coat draped around you. You open your front door and walk inside, leaning against it, holding your mouth, you hiccup again. Noticing the time, you lay his coat on your bed, smiling, you start to choose an outfit from your suitcase.

You step out of your apartment changed and start to drive yourself to GD’s house.

As you arrive, you notice the bright lights coming from the windows. You park outside the house and walk in, your eyes adjusting to the new bright lights, you squeeze past people as it is packed full of people, you make your way to the drinks bar and down a couple shots. As you go for your next shot you feel a hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you see choi seung hyun towering over you, close up.

“hey, you came.” he says

“yeah” you reply

“and looking alot more formal.” he adds smirking.

“hey! i hoped you wouldve forgot.” you respond

“whys that? you want to impress me? dont worry, you look pretty either way.” he says

You pause and then add “t-thank you.” Ignoring the blush creeping up your neck.

“You gonna finish that?” He points to your shot glass and then brushes your hand taking it, and downs it infront of you.

“uh no i wasnt” you quickly say

“you wanna go dance?” he says close to your ear, grabbing your hand and leading you to the dancefloor.

He dances against you, the loud music making it so you cant feel anything exept his touch. You start to dance, the alcohol slowly effecting you. You dance against his chest, and after a few minutes you dance without any care. Then suddenly noticing he isnt there anymore. You hold your head, the flashing lights, loud music, and alcohol giving you a headache, you start to make your way upstairs.

“You okay?” G dragon says walking up to you.

“Yeah just a headache.”

“Theres some bedrooms upstairs, one will probably be free, you can take a lie down and a break.” He says

“Thank you” you say and you walk upstairs.

You open the first door you see and accidentally walk in on two people hooking up, you quickly apologise and rush out. You cover your eyes walking into the next room. Noticing it was quiet you uncover your eyes, but they suddenly widen as you notice choi seung hyun sat on the bed on his own. You close the door and walk over to sit next to him.

“Seung hyun? You okay?” You ask

“Oh uh yeah, just dont really like parties thats all”

“You seemed into it earlier” you smile

“Ill be honest, i just wanted to impress you.” He adds

You cant help but blush “impress me?”

“Yeah youre cute” he says looking at you, then your lips

You swallow and then add “uh thank y-“ youre cut off by his lips pressed against yours. You close your eyes and lean into the kiss, his hand making his way to the back of your neck as he indulges into you. His tounge makes his way into your mouth as the kiss becomes more intimate. You lay your hand on his chest as you kiss him and you hear him groan into your mouth. His hand tangles into your hair as he lays you down onto the bed, hovering above you, caging you with his arm as he kisses you, slowly taking off your dress. You slip his shirt off and lay your hands on his chest as you kiss him. He lowers down and kisses your collarbone as he slips off your dress, he grips your boobs through your bra and kisses your lips again as you whimper.

Suddenly the door bursts open, with G dragon standing in the doorway.

“Y/N?” He stutters

You sit up quick and quickly put your dress on. Running past G Dragon and down the stairs, embarassment floods your head as you rethink what happened over and over.

You get into your car and lean your head against the steering wheel, squealing as you remember his touch and kiss.

You drive home and kick off your heels and take a quick bubble bath, in your towel you flop onto your bed, grabbing his coat and hugging onto it, then you decide to post on instagram, you grab your phone.

y/nusername

much needed bubble bath ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

liked by ttt, gdragon, daesung and 134,509 more

ttt enjoyed tonight

liked by creator

y/nheart omg did u guys see tops comment eek any1 have any idea if theyre dating

bigb4ngfan shes so that girl im so jelly

95,221 more comments

[serqphites]

VICTORIA NEUMAN X ASSISTANT!READER

format: blurb

warnings: nsfw content at the end

word count: 700+

not proofread! y/n used!

- the second you came in for your interview she pretty much decided she was hiring you LMAO

- now i’m not saying she only hired you because of her crush, because your resume genuinely caught her eye, but i’m also not saying it had nothing to do with it 🤷‍♀️

- she definitely asks you to do things she could easily do just as an excuse to see you

- “y/n! can you come here please?”

- “can you pick up this pen i dropped please? i’ve got suchhh a bad back” she’s so dramatic i love her

- you honestly think she’s just being a bitch and she’s messing with you

- that is until one day she comes to you in the morning, saying today she only has one task for you

- “will you eat lunch with me?” and she has the dorkiest smile of all time on her face

- lunch together becomes a regular thing, going from talking about your favourite tv shows to her telling you about her daughter zoe

- she’s so sad when you eventually tell her you thought she was just like every person you’ve ever worked for, just messing with you for the fun of it

- “no no never! i could never do that, especially not to you” OOOOOO it’s blush city for you both

- things are going great! you love your job. that is until something changes, and victoria randomly stops asking you to do things for her

- i mean you’re her assistant, shouldn’t you be getting her coffee? shouldn’t you be organising her files? shouldn’t you be having lunch with her and not hughie?

- to say this has you down is an understatement, you can’t seem to understand why she has randomly shut you out

- it’s not like she’s not speaking to you, she’s still asking you to do things but they’re all tasks that require you to be away from her. you haven’t even been in her office for nearly two weeks now

- after your hurt builds and builds, you can’t hold it in anymore. you storm into her office demanding to know why she’s avoiding you

- she plays it dumb at first but she knows what she’s been doing so she fesses up

- “fuck… i’m sorry, so sorry. it’s not you i promise, it’s me. i- i like you, okay? like a lot and i know it sounds stupid and i know it’s sooo inappropriate because you’re my assist-“ SILENCED BY A KISS WOOOO

- you’re discrete about it at first, sneaking around and making out in the bathroom stalls like you’re high schoolers

- her bringing you lunch everyday<3

- she so leaves post-it notes on her desk with cute lil messages whenever she has to leave for meetings because it’s where she tells you to just relax

- you don’t bother asking why you’re not allowed to meetings that involve voughts CEO, it’s probably just a confidentiality thing right?

- a bit random but whenever you’re standing talking to somebody i feel like she’d just squeeze your butt?

- canon she’s a butt squeezer

- you don’t fight much but oh boy is your schedule full when you do

- she gives you the stupidest tasks she can think of LMAO

- “can you walk someone’s dog please?” “someone’s dog?” “yeah, just go around asking who has a dog that needs walking” “are you being serious, vic?” “yes i most definitely am, it would help me soooo much you have no idea!”

- I LOVE HER SO MUCHHH

- dating your boss can be annoying at times, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world <3

NSFW TIMEEEE

- officesex!officesex!officesex!

- this honestly deserves its own blurb if i'm being honest

- i feel like she's already dominant in bed anyways but because she’s your boss it’s elevated TO THE MAX.

- “i have one really special task for you today, so listen closely”

- you can barely stay stood up with how weak your knees go (real)

- “i need you to be a good girl for me, how does that sound? you think you can do that for me?” in her husky voice im DECEASED

- one time she cleared her desk by pushing everything on the floor, she immediately regretted it when she realised she had broken almost everything

- “i always see people do it in movies and this doesn’t happen” she’s so upset while she’s picking up a broken picture of you both on the beach

- she’s so silly

- she definitely buys you lingerie to wear underneath your work clothes 🤭

- the amount of flirty texts she sends you during the day just to watch you blush uncontrollably is concerning (when is it my turn)

a/n: requests are always open, hope you enjoyed :)

[somepsychopomp]

I love the idea that the Trojans pay closer attention to when Ody's heats are then Odysseus himself. They live in fear that one day he just rips the walls down with his bare hands. Everyone refuses to go fight by the fifth year. The Greeks have about five seconds to recognize what that means before they get jumped <3

Okay so I’m no longer asking- I’m telling y'all that if u leave me an idea or suggestion with no clear context clues/explanation as to what you’re talking about, I’m not going to answer 😭 Believe me, I love writing and answering prompts but if I have to treat it like a guessing game, its not nearly as fun for me anymore. Sorry to anon because I know that wasn't your intention, but I am simply not a mind reader

Like I know you’re talking about my omegaverse AU but I’m not sure if you’re referring to my actual AU or the Trojan spin-off. It sounds more like you’re referring to my side idea of omega Ody being kidnapped by Paris to Troy so okay-

I think Ody would actually be a lot more clever about his heats & would try to conceal them as much as possible, whether that be by frequently washing/changing his clothes and/or using copious perfume or ancient scent blockers.

And if not that, he could try prolonging his period of pre-heat to confuse the alphas in the Trojan palace as much as possible. Maybe he does this with herbal remedies that can partially suppress a heat, or he knows how to mimic the mannerisms of an omega approaching their heat- ex. increased purring & scent marking

Tricking the palace into thinking he’s near-heat has a few advantages. One, Odysseus can eavesdrop more easily because its Ancient Times and no one thinks a horny omega has even two brain cells to rub together. When they all think he's just a dumb himbo, Ody can steal supplies he needs more easily, or even seduce the palace guards into giving him access to places he shouldn't be in.

Cue Odysseus' many failed escape attempts from Troy. (Stealing a length of rope to scale the wall to freedom, stealing a knife and slitting a guard's throat so he can take a horse from the stable, seducing another to gain access to Troy's underground servant tunnels, etc.) The only reason why they're failed attempts is bc Priam is really smart and Hector is an extraordinarily talented warrior, and together they can just barely keep omega Ody in containment.

Omega Odysseus in heat is a different beast. If Ody in my actual AU has be to locked aboard one of his ships while in heat during the Trojan War, then he's 100% getting locked in Troy's dungeon while he's with them.

Granted, they prettied it up for him by cleaning the old blood and grime off the walls, giving him tons of soft bedding, keeping Paris far away from him, and providing him with a vast assortment of snacks and hand-carved dildos to bounce on.

Ody's horny phase lasts a few hours, maybe even a day if the Trojans are lucky. But once he begins to grow frustrated bc the dildos just can't satisfy him like his Penelope can, omega Odysseus is breaking out no matter how hard they try to barricade his cell. Somehow, perhaps with Athena's help, they always end up with a naked Odysseus running through the halls and ripping out throats with his bare teeth.

He won't rest until he either A) has his alpha back or B) has killed Paris. He would prefer both, but since Ody can probably only get B because Penelope is leading the forces from Ithaca outside of Troy's walls, he'll take it.

Whenever Ody escapes containment, which is quite often, Paris is told to hide while literally an entire battalion of fully-armored Trojan soldiers is sent to capture the omega. His heat doesn't make him the addled, boneless, whimpering pet that they expect an omega to be. He's quick and merciless, fueled by his instinctual rage at being separated from his mate and infant son.

Even when he's captured, Ody's still got a few tricks left. Sometimes, he'll cry out in pain and feign an injury. Since he's technically married to Paris and considered Trojan royalty, one of the guards or soldiers would have no choice but to venture closer to check on him.

From there, it's easy for Ody's canines to find flesh and for his nimble fingers to snatch the dagger or sword from the poor man's side.

After the Trojans start getting wise to Odysseus' ways, they basically form a union. They already have enemies at their gates, seemingly every able-bodied man in Greece (plus Penelope), but now they have a monster in their midst. One that is slowly killing them off from within their own palace.

Return the omega to his homeland, they say to their king. Or else they will simply refuse to fight any longer.

Bonus: If we're following my AU where Troy isn't sacked by the end of the war, then by the time Ody gets to leave, they'll have probably started to let omegas into their army. Something about viewing them as the most terrifying and ruthless warriors imaginable.

[backwzzds]

ೃ⁀➷ 5 in the mornin’, trafalgar law (nsfw)

law never gets mad when you call. even if its to have phone sex with him at 5 in the morning.

only back to drop for my baby daddy’s birthday <3. might feed y’all some more later today i gotta see how tired i am 🙇🏾‍♀️

it nearing 5 in the morning when you’d started to grow restless. usually you pulled all nighters on the night where law had to pull doubles at the hospital, most lasting anywhere from 36 to 48 hours. but no matter how many times he told you to stop waiting up two days straight for him—you didn’t listen.

you were sure that sleep was coming soon. law only worked four days a week, ranging at 96 hours of being head surgeon, and most of that time, you spent it awake, up and waiting for him—you were insane. you checked the time and figured that he’d finally be on his three hour break, permitting him to finally get at least a nap in his office quarters designated for senior doctors.

you began to grow irritable as you felt your body heat up randomly. you couldn’t remember the last time you had sex; it’s been a couple weeks due to how busy both you and law were. though the sun would be coming up soon, you’d felt the sudden urge to masturbate and hopefully release some tension like you usually did in order to sleep, but knew your fingers were nothing in comparison to law’s.

contemplation picked at your brain. you bit your lip, waging a mental war with yourself on what you should do. you were sure law would be napping right now—getting the little bit of sleep he usually did before his next and last surgery at eight in the morning, just a few hours from now. he always answered the phone whenever you called, but you felt so bad for disturbing him, even if it was just to get a nut from the sound of his voice alone.

you decided to try and settle it out yourself in hopes that you could have at least one orgasm before sleep naturally came over you. but with your plush legs spread open to the wall full of pictures of you two, you screwed your eyes shut in frustration when you couldn’t get yourself to cum. twenty minutes had passed by and you were growing annoyed for the lack of a nice orgasm.

finally giving into your nasty desires, you picked up your phone and clicked on law’s contact to facetime, resting the phone on the pillow by your ear, hand still between your hands and rubbing at your clit. you’re breathing heavily when he finally answers.

“hm?” you look over at your phone and notice that law is laying down with near closed eyes, the room to his quarters barely lit. “you alright baby?” his voice is groggy and tired. you felt bad for bothering him.

“i’m sorry,” you choked out. “just wanted to hear your voice is all. go back to sleep.” you’re prepared to hang up and just deal with your orgasm yourself but stopped when law hums in decline.

law opens one eye and furrows his brow as to why he was staring at the ceiling. “it’s alright. you okay?”

you breath out, rubbing your clit at the sound of his voice. even that was enough to get you to cum. “yeah, i’m good. just miss you.”

your man lets out a yawn as he finally sits up a bit and eyes the camera. “i miss you too. you sure you’re okay? you sound like something is bothering you.”

“law, please talk to me,” you whisper softly, “say something sexy, please baby. how was your day at work?”

“it’s fine. had a knee and back surgery today. the back one nearly blew me out from how intricate it was. one wrong move and you could nick an artery in the spinal cord and permanently paralyze the patient…” it doesn’t take long for your doctor boyfriend to hang onto your words once he hears your unsteady breathing grow louder. “you in bed right now?” you hum out a response and nod your head, forgetting he couldn’t see you. now law was more awake as the topic of conversation intrigued him. his voice remains low as he thinks about you in all your glory. “you touching yourself?”

“mhm,” you let out. “keep—keep telling me about your day, baby please.”

“you really couldn’t wait, huh?” he chuckled lowly. it was just like you to be impatient. “thought i told you i’ll deal with you when i get home in a few hours, hm? you know my work days are boring.”

“fuck,” you drew out. it wasn’t unusual for you to be the perverted one in the relationship. law was more of the quiet one but you never had a problem with expressing yourself—oncoming orgasms included. “c-couldn’t wait. g-gonna cum soon.”

your chest is heaving up and down as law responds, dominance slowly peaking into his still hoarse vocie. “alright. you gonna do everything i tell you to, baby?”

you slip your middle finger into your cunt, slowly teasing yourself in hopes of tricking your body into thinking it was law touching you, but your body knew better than that. no one could ever replace the surgeon of death’s hands. “yes daddy, just make me cum please,” you whisper, eyes fully closed now.

the sound of a zipper is being heard from the phone, and you could only assume that law was mirroring your actions in the confinements of his own room, pulling his fat cock out the tent of his pants. with a heavy breath, he mutters, “rub that clit for me. nice and slow, okay, baby? just let me take control.”

you nod your head and do as told, handling your little bud with the utmost care as law would have. a few seconds into doing so, you can’t help but ask, “you touching yourself?”

small grunts and moans from law’s end of the phone tells you all you need to know as he breathes heavily. “no other choice but to,” he grits out, referring to your irresistible personality that only got more attractive during your mutual masturbation sessions. only you could wake the surgeon three hours before his next surgery for some phone sex and an orgasm. “go ahead ‘n put a finger in for me just the way i do it.”

“as long as you rub your thumb over your fat tip,” you whisper, pumping your middle finger in and out of you. “can you do that for me baby? nice and slow.”

“mhm,” law hummed, nodding. “fuck,” he whined lowly. and just like you said, he rolled the D of his right thumb finger right over his reddened tip, sticky with pre-cum as he savored your voice over the phone. “take your tits out. squeeze them just the way you like it.” with your free hand, you opened your robe, revealing your already naked body. “add one more finger.”

you let out a gasp as you feel yourself stretch with the addition of another finger, but not in the same way it does with law’s. “wish i can show you,” you wheeze out. “show you how wet my pussy is for you.”

“i know, mama,” law coos as he talks you through it. “but i’m not there right now so you’re gonna have to work this one out on your own in the mean time. rub your clit clockwise. you know how i do it,”

you frown. “‘s not you, daddy,” you whine, “‘s not gonna work.”

“stop talking and focus,” law’s voice is stern as he practically bites down on his tongue to prevent a loud groan from escaping from his lips. “you wanna call me at 5 in the mornin’ knowin’ i got a surgery to prepare for soon? mhm hmm, shove those fingers up that cunt and be a good girl now.”

you immediately do as told and stuff yourself with another finger. you curve your thumb upward to rub at your clit, causing you to jolt with extra stimulation. “oh fuck,” you whined, kicking ur knees up to the ceiling. you begin to feel a large knot tie in your stomach as you sped up your pace. “keep talking, baby. please.”

“yeah? you like that, mama?” law’s voice is taunting and teasing as he himself begins to lose control of his breathing. “you like it when i talk to you mean like that? you little minx.”

“yes,” you dragged out in a whining tone. “need you so bad, papa, i miss you.” you hadn’t seen your man in four days—of course you were gonna be acting like this.

“fuck,” the young doctor’s straining himself to hear your words. with a few more pumps of his shaft to the sounds of your wet pussy and whiny cries, law finally comes undone, shooting thick ropes of his hot white cum all over his delicate fingers and scrubs.

the proof of his affection continues oozing out the slick red slit of his tip as he bites down on his lip, trying his hardest not to let his sounds travel outside his sleeping quarters. “you gonna cum baby?”

“law, ngh—i’m coming!—“ you’re gasping for air once you finally feel the knot in your stomach come undone once more. fingers soaking up your juices like prunes, your eyes flutter shut when you feel your heart finally slow down. you and your man are both are breathing heavily over the phone when law finally sits up from his position.

“i’m on my way home.”

[mystic-writings]

emergency contact | jack hodgins

pairing — jack hodgins x fem!booth!reader

summary — hodgins hasn’t heard from you in over six months, after you broke up with him and disappeared. until he gets an alarming phone call in the middle of the night

warnings — angst, canon-typical violence, mentions of death

word count — 2,528

notes — a few things: i wrote this back in january, and it was rushed and poorly done but im being self-indulgent for this one | also im not tagging anyone bc i wanna see how far this will get on its own (except for my beloved @shmaptainwrites who indulged me ily mimi)

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2:47am

Despite his many years working for the Jeffersonian, Hodgins had yet to get used to his phone ringing at odd hours. With a groan and a stretch, his palm landed where his phone lay on the nightstand table. Without checking the caller ID, he picked up the phone and slurred out a tired greeting to the caller on the other line.

“Hello, Dr. Hodgins, I’m Marie, calling from the George Washington University Hospital.” Why was a hospital calling him so late at night? “You’re listed as the emergency contact for Y/n Booth, correct?”

Your name sent a shock through Jack’s body. “I— I guess so, yeah. Why? Is she okay?”

“Your fiancée was shot on duty, sir. She’s in surgery right now. We suggest you be with her when she wakes up.”

Without a second thought, Jack hung up the phone and flung out of bed. He didn’t care how things ended between the two of you, good or bad, but he knew one thing for certain: he needed to make sure you were okay. After scrambling for a decent set of clothing and his car keys, Jack rushed out of the house and down the near-empty streets to the hospital you were taken to. 

Even though his mind was running at a mile a minute, Jack managed to recall what the nurse had told him. Shot on duty. You took a sabbatical seven months ago, were you back in town? Surely Booth must’ve known, he was your brother and co-worker, he had to have. Did he spare telling Jack to avoid the inevitable turmoil? Obviously you’d been back long enough to take a case, so it wasn’t like you had decided to come back out of the blue. 

By the time he found parking, it was half past 3 in the morning, and Jack’s heart refused to stop beating out of his chest, his palms sweating rivers as he clenched and unclenched them. Despite all of this, though, he approached the front desk with a cracking resolve, trying his best to be put together for the sake of not distressing the night staff and lingering patient family members. 

“Could you tell me where Y/n Booth is?”

The nurse behind the counter glanced up at him. “Connection to the patient?”

“I’m her-” he stumbled on the words. “Her, uh, fiancé. Emergency contact.” 

She typed a few things into the computer when a voice from behind caught Jack’s attention. 

“Hodgins.” Booth called, approaching with a weary face and a cup of likely burnt coffee.

Jack nearly sprinted over to the man, blue eyes frantically searching for answers in his features. “What’s up, man? I mean, what the hell happened?”

Booth took Hodgins by the arm and led him down a hallway, over to the elevators. “We were going after a perp. I told her not to go in first, that I’d handle the hard part. She didn’t listen, the bastard got her from behind, shot out one of her kidneys. Been in surgery for almost,” he checked his watch, “three hours now.” 

Jack deflated just as the elevator doors dinged open. The pair stepped inside, the space empty apart from themselves. “I just— I don’t get it. Yesterday, she was somewhere even I didn’t know, taking some damn sabbatical. Yesterday, I was still pissed at her. Now? She’s in surgery because she was on a case. Because some asshole shot her. I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do with that, Booth?”

Unable to provide any kind of emotional support or response, Booth remained quiet as his friend tried his best not to break down in the elevator. 

When the doors opened, Jack attempted to regain his composure as best as he could while Booth led him down the hall. There was a separate waiting room here, for family members who had someone in surgery. He sat opposite Booth, next to a sleeping little girl and her obviously exhausted mother. 

He had no bearing of the passage of time, and felt as though there was no energy left within him to check the watch on his wrist. All he did was sit with his hands on his knees, head tilted to the sky, one leg bouncing like an infinite rubber ball. At some point, a doctor came out to notify the mother of her husband’s successful surgery — his tumor was gone, he’d told her, and there was little chance of it coming back. 

It wasn’t until the sun started to peek in through the waiting room windows that a surgeon called out your name. Booth had been asleep in the chair across from Jack, but he was wide awake. The pair jumped up and approached the doctor, throwing questions at him rapidly. 

“Y/n is okay. Surgery went well, though we’ll have to keep her here for longer than expected.”

“Why? What happened?” Booth asked. 

The doctor sighed. “Due to the location of the entry wound, the bullet caused too much damage to her right kidney. For now, she’ll only be functioning with one until we can find a donor match. She’ll be on dialysis weekly and some medication to assist the working kidney, but otherwise, she’ll be just fine in a week or so. The bullet did puncture the liver and small intestine, but the speed of the bullet slowed enough to only cause minor damage, nothing we couldn’t fix up.” He told them, and a wave of relief crashed over the pair. “She’s being brought up to her room now, if you’d like to go wait with her.”

Jack only nodded, Booth trailing him as the doctor led them up one more floor, where you were being transferred to the ICU. It was painful, seeing you after so  long, only for you to be hooked up to so many machines, laying nearly helpless in a bed. He pulled a chair up to your right side, reaching for your limp hand to hold, hoping you could feel him. 

Hoping you knew he was there. That you knew he always would be.

Booth leaned against the door frame, watching everything with anguish. After you left for California, you kept in constant contact with your older brother. But even in those months, you never explained why you broke off the engagement so suddenly. Why you took a surprise sabbatical, why you went to California specifically. Why you became so closed off, so cold to everyone, even to Parker. 

After a while, Booth left Jack alone to go pick up Parker from his mother’s house. He promised to be back later, your nephew in tow, and pressed a featherlight kiss to your forehead before he left. 

Jack, swimming in an ocean’s worth of thought, barely noticed the sun coming over the horizon in the window opposite him. All he could do was process the emotions flowing through him. Anger, that you left him so suddenly and without explanation. Despair, that you’d come back so long ago and didn’t come to see him, to work things out. Worry, that despite your life-saving surgery, you wouldn’t get a new kidney, or that you’d never be the same again. Anger again, but at the bastard who shot you. Triumph, that he was rotting in a cell right now. 

 Jack’s only comfort in the sterile, whitewashed room was the steady beeping emanating from the heart monitor, a small assurance that you were okay. His hand remained clasped over yours for hours, thumb stroking the smooth skin on the back of your hand. Partly as a comfort to himself that you were still there, but mostly, he believed, a comfort to you. He hoped you could feel it; that you could feel his presence. He hoped his presence comforted you. 

By the time you woke up, all the worry had faded from Jack’s body and exhaustion had taken its place. He was asleep, head supported by his arm on the side of the chair, when he heard the sheets rustle in the bed. 

Somehow, in all your years of work, this was the first time you ended up in the hospital due to a job-related injury. It wasn’t the first time you woke up dazed after a surgery with little memory of how you got there, though. 

The sheets, despite being thin, weighed down your legs and torso, providing warmth and comfort. You could feel the leads for the heart monitor stuck to your chest, irritating your skin in the slightest bit. There was a cannula feeding oxygen into your system, though it rubbed the skin on the back of your ears uncomfortably. The main thing, though, was that your torso hurt. 

Despite that, you managed to notice something weighing down your right hand. It was warm, warmer than the blankets. And heavier. Garnering the courage to open your eyes, you blinked to adjust to the sunlight and fluorescent lights, trying to shift yourself upward, wincing when it pulled on your wound. Instead, you glanced over at your hand, only to find another on top of it. Following the arm connected to it, your heart stuttered and cracked when you found a sleeping Hodgins sitting next to your bed. Emotion swelled within your chest and tear ducts just at the sight of him, sleeping so peacefully next to you, his hand over yours in a firm grasp, as if that was the only thing that assured him that you were really here. 

Slowly, quietly, you tried to pull your hand out from under Jack’s, only for the movement to wake him up. He stretched with a deep inhale, blinking rapidly as he took in his surroundings. It wasn’t until he noticed you were awake that he seemed to come to his senses. 

“Hey,” he nearly whispered. “How’re you feeling?”

You bit back a scoff. “Terrible. First job back and of course I had to get myself shot.” 

Jack fought a smile, scooting forward to raise the bed up for you to sit properly. “They said they got all the fragments of the bullet during surgery. You’re down a kidney for now, though.”

You only nodded, allowing yourself some time to gather your thoughts. “Why are you here, Hodgins?”

“Apparently, I’m still your emergency contact.” He told you, sitting back down and resting his elbows on his knees. “And apparently, I still care about you enough to show up.” 

“Don’t put that on me.” You whispered, chest restricting as tears fought their way back to your waterline. “You can’t say that to me. Not after what I did to you. You should hate me. I mean, really hate me. Like, praying for my downfall, kind of hate. You shouldn’t still care about me.”

“Well, apparently I do. I thought I hated you, for a long time. But I guess I don’t.” Jack sighed,  taking your hand. You wanted to protest, to pull away, but you let him. “I guess this was a wakeup call for me. Literally. They called me at 3 in the morning to tell me you were in surgery.”

You laughed, a wet sound underlined with sadness. “I’m sorry, Jack. Really, I am. I just…”

“What, don’t love me? It’s okay. I’ve learned to live with it.” 

Even when he should hate you, Jack still understood, and even worse, he still loved you. He was, somehow, the world’s most understanding man. God, you love him. 

“No, no I don’t hate you. Actually, it’s the opposite. I just wish things could’ve gone differently.” 

Now Jack was just confused. “What d’you mean? You broke up with me for a reason, right? You told me you didn’t love me anymore.”

“It’s too complicated, Jack. I want to explain it all to you, really, but it’s not safe. I don’t know if or when it will be, and I won’t blame you if you want to find someone else, or if you already have. You deserve to be happy, Jack. You should move on from me.” 

“I don’t want anyone else.” Jack said, emphasizing each word and squeezing your hand. “I just want you. From the moment I met you, I knew you were it for me, Y/n. Even with your brother breathing down my neck to not even think about pursuing our relationship. It was terrifying, but I ignored it. Because you were too important to have in my life. I couldn’t risk passing you up. I just don’t understand why you ended things so suddenly.”

The tears that you had been attempting to keep at bay for this entire conversation now flowed freely down your cheeks, the emotions you’d kept close to your chest for nearly a year now breaking free. Jack, like the gentleman he was, gently tilted your head toward him, reaching up and using the pads of his thumbs to brush them from your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, daring to look him in the eye. 

“Don’t be.” He whispered. 

“I have to be. I hurt you. I ruined everything. And it wasn’t even worth it. It  didn’t change anything.”

Despite his confusion, Jack said nothing. He simply stood to his full height and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you into his chest — minding your wounds and stroking your hair. “It’s okay. You’re home now. We can fix this.”

“No we can’t.” You shook your head, looking up at him. “Jack, there’s nothing left to fix. Because if we fix it, you’ll die.” 

After what felt like an eternity of swirling, spiraling thoughts, Jack found his voice. “What?”

“That’s why I left.” You said. “I was ordered to. I was working on a case, some underground organized crime syndicate. I found out some stuff I shouldn’t have. My hands were tied, I had no choice.” Choking back a sob, you wiped the tears from your face and took a breath. “It was either break up with you, call off the wedding, and leave, or everyone I loved would die. They were gonna kill you, kill Seeley and Parker, and drain your accounts. There was nothing I could do.” 

Jack pulled you in tighter, his whole worldview shifting and turning on an axis. He couldn’t speak — hell, he could barely even think right now. Jack had spent months grieving your relationship, questioning why you broke things off, harboring a ruthless anger at what his life had become, and all of it faded to dust in an instant. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, pulling Jack back to the present. “I work with these people, Jack. They could ruin me in an instant.” 

“We’ll fix this, I promise.” Jack declared, and despite the fear that had overridden your senses for the past few months, you couldn’t help but believe him. 

You only nodded, curling further into him as best as you could with your incisions. Fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie, you listened to the beat of his heart beneath you and took a deep breath. 

Soon enough, you were drifting off to sleep with the firm belief that soon enough, with the help of your family, somehow, everything would be okay. 

if you want more jack fics, please feel free to comment and let me know!! writing for smaller characters is always a gamble but if people read this i’d be more than happy to do so!

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

my favorite mulder moments from s6

doing his best to analyze the fragments of the x files left after the fire in episode 1, because he will never give up on anything he sets his mind to

veeeeery carefully handing the mystery beast’s claw to scully for analysis ("is that an animal?" "ain't rupaul")

accidentally traveling through a time warp in episode 3 and attempting to convince the ww2 soldiers that the war is actually over, then giggling at his own luck in tracing down the missing ship (NERD! nerd)

then finding ww2 era scully and being so confused as to why she doesn’t know him because… that’s scully!!! who knows him better than anyone in the world!

being trapped in the body of someone else in episode 4, and when he sees the photo of that guy’s wife and kids, he sadly whispers “scully” (and then when his “wife” slaps him awake, he AGAIN mumbles “scully”... yeah, she really is your family, huh?)

trying so hard to convince scully it’s really him trapped in someone else’s body: “your mother’s name is margaret, your brother’s name is bill jr. he’s in the navy and he HATES me” and the desperation in his voice when she still doesn't believe him :(

episode 5: “hey scully? i, uh, know it’s not your normal life, but thanks for coming out there with me” (there will always be bonus points for emotional communication and then even MORE bonus points for his reaction to discovering the waterbed right after. i'd frame it if i could)

maurice roasting him in episode 6 for being “prone to obsessive compulsiveness, workaholism, antisocialism- fertile fields for the descent into total wacko breakdown” <- get his ass

“you know why you think you’ve seen the things you do?” “because… i have seen them?” <- the SASS in that delivery! oh my!

finding the case file that spender shredded up in episode 7 and taping it together so he could investigate himself… lmao, that’s a man that gets results!

and then his great strategy for getting answers on that case being to annoy a demon until something happens... and it works <3

his reaction in episode 8 to scully being referred to as “the missus”; he mouths “oh!” and fidgets a bit, looking both terrible awkward and pleased, haha

and who can forget the iconic “i do not GAZE at scully”? surely not i!

finding skinner sick in his office late at night in episode 9- claiming he's just saying hello, then asking him if he’ll be okay, turning off all of the lights so he felt more comfortable, and angling a desk lamp so scully could inspect him

getting very jealous when scully gets assigned to the case of the mysterious death photographer in episode 10 without him: “i’m thinking murder by telekinesis. i’m thinking maybe a shamanistic death touch. i’m thinking about the muslim superstition that to photograph someone is to steal their soul” (and his righteous fury at the idea of them being separated 🙁)

being nosy throughout the whole episode because somehow he ended up with the files from kersh’s computer and calling her for frequent updates (and using a silly voice to say “we used to sit next to each other at the FBI” to make her smile while she's super annoyed with terrible agent ritter)

hunting through the FBI archives at 9 am to track down information for scully’s case, and when he learns that she is in danger and not picking up her phone, immediately calling trash agent ritter to go check in on her

when said trash partner SHOOTS and nearly KILLS scully, he goes to visit her in the hospital a week later, and corners him, saying only that he is a lucky man. you KNOW he wanted to get violent. amazing self-restraint on him!

grabbing scully’s hand in her hospital bed and smiling, telling her the doctor said her recovery is amazing- she’s still so sad, and he says “death only looks for you once you seek its opposite”

gym mulder in episodes 11 and 12... the basketball... yeah ❤️

trying to be kind in episode 13 and it immediately backfiring in that cringe-inducing fashion that only he is capable of achieving: “stay there, mrs. suarez. we're going to make sure your baby makes it safely into the world” “well, thank you, but i’m not in labor. and my name is not suarez, it’s villareal. he tells people i’m his wife. like he’s so macho”

the wind-up chattering teeth on the desk in episode 14 <3

how wildly excited he was to play house in episode 15- “hey, oooh wait a minute, you didn’t let me carry you over the threshold”

and then taunting all of the neighbors with his stupid basketball hoop, LMAOOO

in episode 16, he knows off the top of his head how many years ago the wanshang dhole went extinct

rare communication w for mulder in episode 17 when they get into their usual spat about his theory not being scientifically possible and he decides to instead focus them on what they both agree on: the need to find june

opening up about how important baseball is to him in episode 19: “it’s like the numbers talk to me, they comfort me, they tell me that even though lots of things can change, some things do remain the same. it’s-" "boring?” (pouty mulder face as scully teases him)

AND his recitation to arthur dales of how many home runs mickey mantle hit with each hand

chatting with arthur dales and telling on himself when it comes to his feelings: “do you believe that love can make a man shapeshift?” “i guess… women change men all the time” “i’m not talking about women” (they then share hot dogs, pizza, and chinese takeout)

AND paying that little boy to help him surprise scully with the baseball date- sharing something that is both personal to him and plain fun with her

scully asks him what more he hopes to find in episode 22, and he answers “my sister” 💔 because that is still at the heart of every single action he does after all of this time… no matter which way the plot veers, who the bad guys of the week are, or where life leads him, it's always about samantha and that guilt he harbors over her