#or maybe I'm just soft lately lmao

[cosmicstarlatte]

havent seen you around in a few days & i’ve been missing your presence on the dash love!! I hope you’re doing okay<3

me!? what!? em you're making me FEEL things ajskdkfkfajsjd sobssss, thank you!!! I've been taking things a day at a time, I hope you've been doing good too!! ^^ ♡

[writersrkive]

Don't shut up | Spencer Reid

summary: Spencer is used to people who constantly tell him to shut up, but somehow, he feels even more embarrassed and sad when he thinks you want him to stop talking after looking at the tired and confused expression you have when he's trying to help you. The thing is you hate when people do that to Spence and would spend years just listening to his voice.

genre: fluff

pairing: Early seasons!Spencer Reid x bau!reader

warnings: mentions of the team shutting Spencer down. Derek and JJ being a little mean to him when he's spreading information. Spencer being a cutie potato. Mention of a stomachache and its causes (mention of miscarriage as one of the causes, but nothing happens). Reader not being a native english speaker, but just a slight mention.

a/n: Dr. Spencer Reid is a genius.... I am not. I literally had to search for information and copy-paste here in some parts, so if there's misinformation, it's Google's fault, lmao. I wrote this yesterday when I was about to sleep, so I'm sorry if something is wrong with the writing (even though I already edited). English isn't my first language, please be kind <3.

Masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

Spencer and you arrived early that morning. He hated being late for anything. He couldn't afford to be late if he wanted to stick as closely as possible to his assigned schedule, especially because he took public transport. On the other hand, you had no choice but to arrive early when you woke up at four in the morning thanks to a severe stomachache and couldn't go back to sleep.

That's how your conversation started. Your genius workmate was surprised to see you, first hour in the morning, when he walked in the office, even before Hotch arrived.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. You couldn't deny that the expression was too cute for your own good.

“Yeah… I think so. It's not even the stomach ache that bothers me, it's the fact that even if I was sleepy, I couldn't fall asleep again. You know? That happens to me a lot. Once I open my eyes, I can't go back to sleep. I've also been feeling mildly unwell for a week, but even though the medication is controlling it, it doesn't stop."

At this point, he already set up his desk, leaving his briefcase on his own chair to walk over to you and sit at your desk, next to the chair you were sitting in, to listen to you attentively and answer.

“The brain works with different phases of sleep: light sleep, deep sleep, and REM sleep. The cycle usually restarts every eighty to one hundred minutes, and we typically have four to six cycles each night.”

Hotch came out of the elevator and walked upstairs after both of you waved at him, and he let out a soft “good morning”. Emily arrived a few seconds later. You greeted her too, as she took place on her desk, but that didn't stop your conversation.

“So, it's completely normal that we wake up in the middle of the night because of that process, but if it is frequent, for three months or more, it may be a symptom of insomnia.”

Your view went to the floor, and your head nodded in a semi-unconscious movement, because although you knew that your sleep cycle was ruined by work, you had not come to that conclusion, maybe that was it.

“Now, the stomachache…” He said, taking one pen from your pencil case to concentrate. He usually never took other people's belongings or shared his own stuff because of the germs, but somehow, after a few years of working together, he had come to have a good amount of closeness with you to borrow some stuff from you. Months ago, it hadn't gone unnoticed by Penelope that Spencer had a box full of pens reserved for you, in case you needed one, nor the fact that he denied JJ one of them once, when the blonde girl needed something to write with quickly.

“The causes can be the most common, such as gas, indigestion, a muscle injury, or stress. Although there are also more serious causes: gastrointestinal infections, inflammatory bowel disease, irritable bowel syndrome, ectopic pregnancy or miscarriage..."

“Wow, what are you trying to do? Scare her?” Derek's voice invaded the place and Emily smirked.

“What? No, I'm just saying the possibilities…” Spencer whispered, looking down, a little worried that he might actually scared the person he cared more, besides his mom.

“It's okay.” You answer loud enough so your friends and coworkers would hear. “Thanks, Spence. I already went to the doctor, so I have none of… those.” I gave him a little smile. “But about stress…” The sentence hung in the air, so Spencer looked up and continued speaking automatically.

“Stress can cause stomach pain because the autonomic nervous system of the gastrointestinal tract reacts to the same hormones and neurotransmitters as the brain. This is because the digestive system is connected to the nervous system, and the enteric nervous system, which is located in the digestive system, is able to send and receive impulses and assimilate emotions.” He started to talk faster.

Your focus on the genius boy and his explanation was sincere, but maybe it was the fact that you didn't rest well, plus the fact that he was speaking too fast and not vocalizing all the syllables, that for a moment your brain didn't process what he was saying.

It was weird. At some point you didn't even hear words, just sounds from his mouth. That didn't happen to you for a really long time because you already had experience with the native speakers, even if english wasn't your mother language. The exhausting feeling of not being able to sleep well was definitely to blame.

While your brain was coming to that conclusion, Spencer could only see your furrowed brow, tense jaw, tilted head, and dissociated look.

“You want me to shut up, right?” That whisper was enough for you to come back to reality. His cheeks were red and his eyes looked a little sad, not to mention the way his mouth formed a line like whenever he felt awkward.

“Yes, please!” Derek answered instead, leaning back in his seat and looking up with his arms outstretched as if he'd had to deal with seven unsubs in the five minutes he'd been there, listening from his place to the information Spencer was giving you.

“Little genius boy got excited… again.” JJ said, looking at some documents in front of her, opening her eyes wide in an expression of tiredness and disinterest.

The young profiler stood up from your desk thinking about returning to his chair, a little embarrassed, but you took his pinky with yours —that way you wouldn't make him feel uncomfortable in case he wasn't in the mood for physical touch, something he refused unless it was you. Again, another special treat—. “Wait. It wasn't like that.” Hazel eyes looked at you intently, still with a bit of doubt. “I'm sorry Spencer. Yes, you got excited, but that's not something bad.”

“It isn't?” He questioned.

“No, but you started to speak fast, and the fact that there are some words that I have a hard time processing in English and I couldn't quite catch what you were saying because I didn't sleep enough, well, that distracted me. Would you mind repeating it again, slower?” This time, you were the one with warm cheeks.

“Oh. Are you sure you don't want me to shut up?” The boy was actually intrigued and a little surprised.

“Why would I want that?” The fact that your teammates often shut Spencer up when he tried to share extra information, or information that he had been asked about, was something you had noticed from the moment you started working with the team. You thought that was rude. You understood that sometimes Spencer got excited, gave information that was perhaps better saved for another time since you were investigating a case, or people could be tired and want silence, but the team either silenced him or made fun of him most of the time. Plus, there weren't many other things you liked more than hearing his voice.

The sweet, soothing tone of his words helped you sleep on the jet after a long case, or made you want to hear more about whatever he was talking about. Feeling like he was sharing with you, a mere mortal, some of the vast knowledge he had was nice.

“I'm always happy to hear whatever you need to say, even if it's about something I don't understand. And, right now, you are helping me a lot, so, please, don't shut up.” The crimson color returned to the tall boy's face, this time not because he was uncomfortable. Your kind and somewhat complicit smile made his heart race, like almost every time he was with you. Spencer knew that no matter how tired he got, he would never shut up if you wanted him to keep talking.

[mssorceressupreme]

Take Care of You | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: you wake up realising you’ve stained your boyfriend’s bed with period blood, and you feel terrible. later, while playing a friendly quidditch game, you get deadly cramps again and fred takes care of you for the rest of the day.

Warnings/content: reader gets her period, mentions of blood, pimples (lmao), insecure!reader, period cramps, fluff, fred weasley is THE standard :,), molly and arthur being the sweetest gems

———

The Burrow was quiet in the early morning, the golden glow of the sun barely peeking through the curtains of Fred's bedroom. The soft rise and fall of his breathing filled the room, his arms wrapped securely around you as you lay nestled against him. His warmth, his scent—fresh, like cinnamon and a hint of something mischievously sweet—made you want to stay here forever.

However, during this particular morning, something felt...off.

You shifted slightly, your brows knitting as you became aware of a slight discomfort in your lower abdomen. Your face scrunched up in confusion, and as you moved your hand to touch your face, you felt a few bumps along your skin—pimples, no doubt. Great. Just what you needed.

Then, you felt it. The damp warmth between your legs. A sinking feeling settled in your stomach. Panic shot through you as you carefully lifted the covers, heart pounding as you caught sight of the undeniable red stain on Fred’s bedsheets.

Oh no.

Your breath hitched, eyes widening in sheer mortification. Not only had you woken up to pimples, but you had gotten your period in your boyfriend’s bed.

Your boyfriend’s bed. Sure, if it was your own bed, you didn't mind, as it would be your problem to deal with. This, however, was an entirely different case. Godric, you wanted to hide, to run away, to retreat into your shell.

The urge to disappear entirely took over as your face burned with embarrassment. What were you supposed to do? Wake him up and tell him you’d basically bled all over his sheets? You felt a lump in your throat and your vision became teary. Especially with pimples all over your face now, what would Fred think? Would he get grossed out, horrified, disgusted?

Maybe if you were really quiet, you could sneak out and fix it before he even noticed—

Time seemed to slip from your hands when all the shifting you did stirred Fred from his sleep. Shit, it was too late to move.

He groaned softly before his arms instinctively tightened around your waist, pulling you back against him with a lazy smile.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. He pressed a sleepy kiss to your cheek before pausing, sensing the tension in your body. His brows furrowed, and he blinked, still groggy. “You alright, darling? You seem a little tense.”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “Fred, I—” Your voice was small, laced with hesitation. You inhaled deeply before revealing your dilemma, “I got my period.”

Fred blinked, confused for a second, before his lips curled into a small, lopsided smile. “Alright, love, no need to sound so distressed about it.”

You groaned again, this time with frustration. “No, you don’t understand,” you mumbled. “I stained your bed.”

With a deep breath, you lifted up the duvet and hesitantly pointed at the small red patch on the sheets. You felt your heart hammering in your chest as you dared to glance at his face, bracing yourself for—well, you didn’t know what exactly. Disgust? Annoyance? Irritation? But instead, all you found was Fred sitting up, stretching before looking at the stain with mild curiosity, then back at you with a soft chuckle.

“Is that all?” he said, completely unfazed. “Thought you were gonna tell me you’d hexed my eyebrows off in my sleep or something.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “Fred, I just bled on your bed,” you repeated, incredulous. “How are you this calm?”

"I just got my period...and I'm breaking out all over my face, I feel like a mess right now, I—" You continued rambling, all your worries spilling out at once.

He rolled his eyes fondly and pulled you into a warm hug, his chin resting on the top of your head. “Shh, shh, shh, it’s okay, love,” he murmured, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “It’s normal, yeah? Not like you did it on purpose.” He pulled back slightly, his hands gently cupping your face. “My poor baby, let me take care of you.”

Your heart melted at his words, but you still couldn’t shake off the embarrassment. “But your sheets—”

“Easily cleaned,” he interrupted, waving a hand like it was nothing. “Mum’s got stain removers, no big deal. What is a big deal, though, is that you’re clearly not feeling great.” His hands dropped to your waist, tugging you close again. “And my girl needs to be taken care of.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, Fred was already hopping out of bed. “I’ll be right back,” he said, tossing on a shirt. “You go to the bathroom, get cleaned up. I’ll sort everything else out.”

Still in a daze from his reaction, you hesitated before nodding. You slipped into the bathroom, heart still pounding as you peeled off your clothes, carefully cleaning yourself up. A few moments later, there was a soft knock at the door.

“Here, I’ve got some pads for you,” Fred called from the other side.

You cracked open the door, peeking out to see him holding a small stack of pads in his hands, a sheepish yet triumphant grin on his face.

“Ginny might have thrown something at me when I woke her up to ask, but worth it,” he teased, handing them to you.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Thank you, handsome.”

“For a pretty girl like you, anytime.” He kissed your forehead gently before stepping back. “Take all the time you need, I’ll be waiting for you.”

Once you were done, you returned to Fred’s room to find the bed already spotless, the stain completely gone. He grinned when he saw you. “Told you I’d sort it.”

You launched yourself at him, hugging him tightly. “Ugh Fred, you’re too good at this.”

“I know,” he said smugly, earning a light smack on the arm. He chuckled before pressing another soft kiss to your forehead. “Now, let’s get some breakfast in you, yeah?” There was something comforting about his kisses, every time he planted one on you, it felt as though everything was going to be alright.

Downstairs, the Burrow was already lively with chatter. Molly beamed as she hugged you good morning before returning to cooking, and Arthur greeted you warmly.

"Ah come join us, you lovebirds." Arthur teased, Fred's ears turning a light shade of red in response.

"What took you guys so long today? Busy eh?" Ron teased, wiggling his brows before taking a bite of his toast.

"Shove off, what's the point in rushing downstairs? Not like we've got somewhere to be." Fred retorted, a bit more harshly than he had intended.

Ginny shot you two a knowing look, giving you a sympathetic smile, "You won't understand the pressures of being a woman Ron, takes a lot to look this good every day." She joked, though laced with a comforting undertone, indirectly defending you. You tilted your head and smiled warmly at her, a way of showing gratitude.

"Come Y/N dear, you must be starving." Molly placed two eggs on your plate next to your toast, "Percy, pass her the butter will you."

"This looks delicious, thank you Molly!" You beamed, her food was always made with love; a mother's love, and that's what made it extra tasty.

Though you smiled, and occasionally shared quips with the others, only Fred was able to see right through you. He kept sneaking glances, his hand resting on your thigh under the table, stroking it gently.

You turned to give him a reassuring smile, but he still worried for you, wanting to ensure you felt better.

___

Later that afternoon, you and the Weasleys were playing a toned-down version of Quidditch outside the Burrow.

The sky was clear as day, the air crisp with a cool breeze occasionally blowing your hair, and laughter filled the open field as Ron, Fred, and Ginny zoomed around on their brooms, chucking the Quaffle back and forth.

Meanwhile, you, Percy, and George remained on the ground, running, dodging, and attempting to intercept the ball whenever it came your way.

At first, you kept up, laughing as George nudged you playfully and you pretended to dramatically fall or trip, making him burst into laughter.

"Woah, when did you get so strong?" Sarcasm lingered in your tone.

"Puh-lease, this is like twenty-percent of my strength. You're lucky I'm going on easy on ya." George ruffled your hair messily, it was safe to say the two of you definitely had a sibling-like relationship.

Though as the game went on, you started to slow down. The cramps you’d been trying to ignore all day crept in with full force, sharp and unbearable.

It felt like your insides were twisting, a deep ache radiating through your stomach and back, growing stronger by the minute. You bit your lip, pressing a hand to your abdomen, willing the pain away. But it was no use.

After a few more steps, you stopped completely, crouching down with a sharp inhale.

Fred, who had been mid-air, immediately noticed. He veered off from the game and swooped down toward you, concern flickering across his face. "Love? What's wrong?" he asked, his voice softer now as he handed his broom off to George, who had also stopped running and looked at you with concern.

“You alright, Y/N?” George asked, his usual teasing tone replaced with genuine worry.

You tried to wave them off, not wanting to make a fuss, but Fred wasn’t having it. He crouched beside you, his large hands gently resting on your arms as he searched your face.

"Cramps," you admitted in a whisper, wincing slightly.

Fred was up in an instant. "Alright, that’s it. You're going inside." He stood, helping you up carefully, his arm wrapping around your waist protectively. George gave you an encouraging nod before returning to the game, and as you and Fred walked toward the Burrow, you leaned into him, grateful for his warmth and steady presence.

As soon as you stepped inside, Molly turned from the stove, immediately noticing your pale face and Fred’s worried expression. "What’s wrong, dear?" she asked, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached.

“Cramps,” Fred answered before you could, his voice carrying that soft, caring edge that made your heart ache in the best way.

“Oh, sweetheart," Molly cooed. "You sit down and rest. I’ll whip up some soup and a cramp relief potion right away.”

"Thank you, Molly," you said softly, feeling a rush of gratitude for the warmth and kindness of the Weasley family.

You always secretly hoped you'd marry into the family one day, but you didn't want to admit that aloud, or pressure Fred into such things yet.

Fred led you upstairs to his room, insisting you lay down. "Rest up, yeah? I’ll be back in a bit," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead before slipping out of the room.

A little while later, the door creaked open again, and Fred returned, carrying a small basket filled with chocolates, a heating pad, some of your favourite snacks, and—to your surprise—a teddy bear.

You blinked at it, smiling despite your discomfort. “A teddy?”

Fred set the basket down, and held the bear up, making its little arm wave at you. "To cuddle with."

You giggled, looking at him with awe. “Come here. I’d rather cuddle with you, baby."

He grinned before climbing into bed next to you, immediately wrapping you in his buff arms. His embrace, his scent—everything about him was comforting, you could only melt right into him.

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly to face you. But after a moment, you grew shy, burying your face in his chest.

“Don’t look at me,” you mumbled, insecurity creeping in. “I don’t feel pretty right now.”

Fred’s brows furrowed, and he cupped your cheek, tilting your face back up to him. "Don’t you ever say that," he murmured, his gaze filled with so much love it made your heartache.

"You’re perfect. You’re gorgeous. These little things, flaws you might call them—they don’t matter. If anything, they make you even more beautiful. To me, you always look good, angel."

Tears welled in your eyes at his words, and you let out a shaky breath. “I love you, Freddie.”

His expression softened even more, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I love you too.”

With that, he pulled you closer, your eyelids feeling heavier by the second, drifting off into a peaceful nap in his arms.

___

An hour later, Molly walked in, a tray in her hands carrying a bowl of warm soup and a small vial of cramp relief potion. But as soon as she saw the two of you curled up together, fast asleep, a tender smile spread across her face. She stood there for a moment, simply watching, before turning to call Arthur over.

Arthur peeked inside, his eyes crinkling with affection as he took in the sight. “Reminds me of us back in the day,” he murmured with a fond chuckle.

Molly playfully swatted his arm before she placed the tray on the bedside table, snapping a quick photo of you and Fred with a knowing grin. Then, hand in hand, she and Arthur quietly slipped out of the room, leaving you both to your peaceful afternoon nap.

____

A/N: currently on my period and thought a fluffy fic would be healing rn <3 lowkey feeling a smut one soon? not sure though hehehe (help I'm so indecisive 😭😩)

[joelscruff]

imperfect for you (joel miller x f!reader)

masterlist | a/n written for @janaispunk's 1500 kisses challenge! i got joel + nose kisses with this lovely moodboard and actually managed to write something!!! believe it or not this started out as a drabble lmao. i hope you like it jana - sorry it's a bit late, and congrats again on your milestone 🤍 summary: you never thought joel miller would accidentally call you baby. warnings: age gap (joel is mid 40s, reader is 23), fluff, very brief instance of blood, tending to a wound, joel is eepy, soft kisses, cuddles word count: 5.5k ao3 dividers by @saradika-graphics

"When's the last time you slept?"

He doesn't bother to grace you with an answer, hands clenched on the steering wheel as you barrel down the vacant stretch of highway back to Lincoln. He's been ignoring you for the past fifteen minutes now, eyes straight ahead, brow furrowed, jaw clenched. But he looks pale, almost sickly, the whites of his knuckles stark against the sudden greenish hue of his skin. The last thing you need is for him to pass out and for the two of you to crash into a damn ditch.

"I'm just saying," you continue with an exasperated sigh, "I could drive the rest of the way, we're almost there."

No reply. You roll your eyes and cross your arms indignantly in the passenger seat, returning his icy demeanor. He's in one of his moods again, the ones only Tess really knows how to handle, but you'd volunteered to try your hand at a supply run in her stead which means she's not here to mediate. You should've known some issue would arise, stubborn Joel inventing problems in typical Joel fashion.

"You could've tried to last at least one more hour pretending to like me," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. He doesn't say anything.

Almost a year of working with them now, and you still don't understand him. You're not sure you ever will. Tess, she's much easier to understand, much more open to being understood. She'd seen your potential and taken you under her wing, brought you in to help, taught you everything you needed to know about smuggling. And Joel... well, he's a different story.

"You know, Tess thinks I have promise," you continue anyway, expression crumpling into a scowl, "She thinks I can do this. I don't get why you don't."

No answer.

"And don't say it's 'cause I'm a kid, because I'm not. I'm twenty three now, I'm past the point of being called a fucking kid. The shit I've seen in that QZ-" you cut yourself off, shaking your head, "I'm not a kid."

His lack of response is beginning to hurt deeper than you'd really like to admit. You glance over at him again; he's still staring straight ahead, still ignoring your presence. It makes unwanted tears prick in your eyes, nose stinging a little as you peer down at your lap and fold your hands together.

You'd been excited for this supply run, probably against your better judgement. You'd wanted to show him how much you know and understand, how hard you've been working, how you're up to the task. Hoped maybe he'd give you a smile - rare, but not impossible - and tell you that you did good, that he sees potential in you too.

You care what he thinks, almost more than what Tess thinks. And you know why, can sense it deep in the pit of your stomach and in the way your heart stutters when he looks at you, but you're clearly living in a fantasy world if you think he's ever gonna get past whatever this stigma is that he has against your age. She's too young, Tess. She'll get hurt, Tess. She shouldn't be doin' this, Tess. You've heard it all, muffled through closed doors in a dark and damp hallway.

He doesn't want you, and you're not sure how much longer you can go on like this. If he's not willing to change his stance, view you as anything other than an inconvenience...maybe Tess will have to find somebody else to help out.

"I know what I'm doing," you mumble, a tear dribbling down your left cheek, "I just wanna help."

You spare him one more look, fruitlessly hoping that maybe he'll feel bad now that he's made you cry - a childish thought, considering you're trying to make a case for being mature, but you can't help it. You know he's capable of being gentle, of being kind. You've experienced it with him before, quiet moments between the two of you in his apartment while waiting for Tess to return, making small talk, him peering at you with a softness in those brown eyes that have since made frequent appearances in your dreams. Moments where you swear you felt wanted under that gaze, but it must've been in your head, because you certainly don't feel wanted right now.

He doesn't look well, you have to admit. His skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, getting paler by the second, turning an unnatural grey color akin to some of the hair on his head. His eyes are glassy, dark bags settled beneath them that you've noticed getting worse and worse over the past few weeks. You shoot a glance at his hands again and are surprised to see that he's loosened his grip, that his fingers seem to be trembling against the rubber.

"Joel," you say, raising your voice a bit, "Joel, are you okay?"

His lack of response no longer angers you - it worries you. Carefully, you reach over and slowly wrap your hand around his right wrist, eyes trained on his face. At your touch, he finally turns to look at you, almost like he's only just noticed you're even there.

"You say somethin'?" he asks, voice raspy, a bit slurred.

Your grip tightens on his wrist, "I think you should stop the car."

He looks at you curiously, dazedly. It's the expression of a man who's running on two, maybe three hours of sleep in the last few days. You choose your next words carefully, eyes flickering back and forth toward his face and the road that he's suddenly no longer watching.

"Let's slow down a bit," you murmur, thumb stroking gently along his skin - he's warm, warmer than normal - "I'm gonna drive the rest of the way, okay?"

You expect some pushback, an attempt at an argument, but the tiredness is setting in quickly. Without any hesitation he eases his foot off the gas and you hurriedly reach your own leg over into his space to push down on the brake. He doesn't seem to notice the way your bare leg brushes his jeans, the crease in your knee bending over the warmth of his thigh.

"There we go," you say softly, bringing the car to a slow stop. He's still looking at you, eyes unfocused as you carefully lean over a little more to unbuckle his seatbelt. You try to ignore how good he smells, how big he is compared to you, putting all your attention on getting him out of the front seat. You unlock his door and then unbuckle your own belt, hurrying out of the car to his side.

"M'okay," he mumbles as soon as you open his door. You start to help him out, and you think he's becoming a little more aware of the situation now, allowing you to pull him to his feet as you tug open the back door. "What's happenin'?"

"You're just tired," you tell him softly, "It's okay, you can sleep in the back, I'll drive."

"Bill n' Frank's," he says as you lead him the right way, pushing him a little and helping him place his knee down on the seat, "Y'know where it is? You remember?"

"I do," you tell him confidently, your hand coming down to press flat against his back - he's so solid, heat radiating against your palm, "Only twenty minutes away now, I got it. You just sleep."

He doesn't argue; in fact, he makes your job easier by crawling onto the seat and settling down with a low groan, rolling onto his back and breathing deeply. You can't help but let a small smile cross your features, watching as one of his hands comes up to rest atop his belly, the other dangling onto the floor. His eyelashes flutter a little, lips parting, and you're about to shut the door when he speaks again.

"I know you jus' wanna help, baby."

You stand there for a moment just staring at him, confusion racing through your thoughts. Goosebumps rise on your flesh as the last word repeats like a mantra in your head, steady and slow as Joel drifts off. It's only when the door is shut and you're in the front seat that you're able to put some meaning to the words, eyes wide as you stare at the faded lines on the road.

I know what I'm doing, you'd said, I just wanna help.

You leave him in the car when you get to Bill and Frank's, typing in the gate code with a backward glance at his loose form in the backseat. They must see him on one of the security monitors, because as soon as the doors open you spot them sprinting out of the house toward you, a scanner gripped in Bill's hand. Typical.

"He's okay," you tell them as soon as you're out of the car, instantly alleviating their stress, "He's just exhausted, I think he needs to sleep for a little while."

"Understatement of the century," Frank replies with a relieved laugh, eyeing the backseat, "Think we can get him in the house?"

"Just leave him in the car," Bill says with a wave of his hand, already turning to head back towards the house with the scanner hanging out of his pocket, "He'll be fine."

Your gaze meets Frank's and he rolls his eyes, "Come on, baby, let's get him upstairs." Your brows go up at the pet name, the same word that had fallen from Joel's lips only twenty minutes ago, but then Bill is shuffling back over with an annoyed look on his face and you quickly realize he's not talking to you.

Getting Joel out of the car proves to be a lot more difficult than getting him in. You try a gentle approach at first, brushing his arm and stroking his skin with your thumb again like you'd done earlier. You can feel Frank's eyes on you as you squeeze Joel's bicep, his wrist, his thigh, and you pretend you don't see the look that passes between him and Bill as you step out to let them take a turn.

Bill goes for a much more aggressive approach, shaking Joel's shoulders wildly and practically yanking him out of the car. Understandably, Joel wakes with a gasp and kicks his legs out, hand reaching for his pistol as he frantically tries to escape Bill's grasp. Before he can grab it though, he's suddenly falling forward, knees buckling as he faceplants onto the pavement beside the car.

Well, that certainly wakes him up. His hands press into the gravel and his head shoots up, blood trickling down his nose as he peers up at the three of you, stunned.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Bill," Frank groans.

"That was not my fault."

Ignoring them, you kneel down and gently touch Joel's shoulder, a concerned look on your face as you eye the splattered blood on the ground, "Fuck, are you okay?"

"What in the hell is goin' on?" he groans, turning to look at you, "Did Bill just break my fuckin' nose?"

"Don't be dramatic," Bill barks, spinning on the spot and heading into the house, "Shoulda just left you in the car."

Joel starts scrambling after him, rising up and standing on wobbly legs, hand reaching for his pistol once again. You and Frank grab him before he can do anything, both of you taking an arm and holding him back.

"Joel, you're exhausted," you tell him quickly, utilizing all your strength, "You just need to lay down. Please."

He turns his face to look at you and something flutters in your chest when you catch the way his eyes soften, the anger in his expression fading as he acknowledges your presence. You can vaguely make out Frank watching the two of you in your periphery, but you try your best to ignore it, instead opting to give Joel a reassuring smile.

"Let's just get you cleaned up, okay?"

You're grateful that Frank leaves you alone with Joel to tend to his nose. You've only met him a handful of times, but each time he'd somehow been able to clock the way you interact with Joel, the way you look at him. The last time you'd been here he'd subtly pulled you aside to give you a few words of wisdom.

"You do realize he's extremely unavailable, right?"

"I- I don't know what you're talking about."

He'd smiled, tapped his nose and given you a knowing look, "And I don't just mean because of Tess. That man is emotionally constipated, kiddo. He's an island." He'd laughed then at your confused expression, shaking his head, "Just be careful, s'all I'm saying."

You'd gone to walk away, forget the conversation even happened, when he'd softly called after you:

"And I'm pretty sure Tess would hang your head on her wall."

You think of those words now as you stand in front of Joel in the small bathroom off the landing, lip between your teeth as you eye the cut on his nose. It isn't broken, thank fuck, but you can see some dirt and gravel in there that you need to clean out.

"It's not broken," you tell him softly. He's sitting on the edge of the bath tub, peering up at you with a much more alert expression. The fall definitely woke him up, not to mention the choice words he and Bill had thrown at each other as you and Frank helped him up the stairs. He's still exhausted though, and he needs to rest.

"I know it's not," he grumbles, "Just wanted to give Bill a piece of my mind for once."

You laugh softly as you reach for the damp cloth beside you, bringing it up to carefully pat it against the gash on the bridge of his nose. You can feel his eyes on you, watching and assessing as you do your best to wipe the area clean.

"I can do that myself," he murmurs.

"I just wanna help," you say quietly, and your eyes fall to his in a knowing glance. He doesn't seem to remember though, just nods and lets you carry on.

It's rare for you to be this alone with him. And by that, you mean this far from Tess. You're painfully aware that it would be impossible for her to walk in at any moment, to see the way you're standing over him, touching him. Frank's words from last time echo in your head but you're not quite sure you believe them; would she really be that angry if she knew how you felt about Joel? It's not like he'd return it, right? The man is twenty years your senior and, as Frank said, extremely unavailable. Not to mention Tess and Joel's relationship has been a point of confusion to you for a year now, still unsure exactly what they are to each other - would she really care?

You reach for the antiseptic - one of the many perks of having an injury in a supply house - and carefully dab some onto the cloth. Your hand trembles a bit as you reach up to carefully hold Joel's chin, your thumb getting lost in his greying beard.

"You haven't shaved in a while," you breathe, your eyes meeting his, and you wonder if you've already crossed a line by even noticing.

He doesn't seem to mind though, sighing deeply, "I haven't slept in a while, so let's hurry this up," he eyes the cloth, "Don't gotta warn me, just do it."

His words bring you back to the present, and you slowly ease the cloth down onto his cut. He hisses a bit, a normal reaction, but it only takes a few seconds to clean and then you're already reaching for a bandage, reluctantly letting go of his chin.

"I was worried about you, before. In the car," you tell him softly, unpeeling the adhesive, "Why haven't you been sleeping?"

His eyes fall to the floor, "I just don't sleep good. Never have."

"Is there anything I can do?"

He shrugs, gives you a humorless laugh, "Handful o' pills and a couple sips o' whiskey usually does the trick."

It makes sense, then, why these past few weeks he's seemed worse. It's been longer than usual since your last supply run and the three of you had started running out of vital supplies over a week ago now, not only for buyers but for yourselves. Joel had written whiskey near the top of the latter list, along with hydromorphone which he'd underlined several times.

"You should've told me you weren't feeling well," you murmur, applying the bandage carefully, "I could've driven the whole way."

"Could've, should've," he dismisses you with a grunt, "Doesn't matter now, does it? We got here, that's what counts."

You linger a little longer than you should on the bandage, thumb falling to gently trace the crease of his nose as you assess your work. It might scar, but it feels pointless to voice this - he already has so many, scattered across his face and neck like confetti. It hurts a little, knowing he's been through so much, seeing the evidence written all over him.

"My mom had this superstition," you tell him softly, a smile playing at your lips as you trace one of the scars under his eye, soft and delicate, "Whenever I got hurt, skinned my knee or busted my elbow playing, she'd bandage me up and then kiss it. She said a kiss would seal her love in there, keep me safe and protected. And if it scarred, that meant it worked."

He blinks at you, expression faltering a bit, "That's...that's a nice thought."

You shake your head, "It's silly, and not true. But... but I still do it anyway, even though she's gone. Just in case," you bite your lip, "I mean, who doesn't wanna feel a little more safe? A little more protected?"

Your gazes lock, and neither of you seem to move, caught in the stillness of the moment and the way your thumb is still stroking his face. You know you have limited time, maybe a few seconds before he breaks it, so without much thought at all you lean down and lightly press your lips to the bandage, eyes closed.

He inhales sharply, a sound that triggers butterflies in your tummy as you hold your mouth against his nose, soft and sweet. It's the closest you've ever been to him, even if you're kissing gauze and not skin - you can still feel the warmth radiating from him, sense the way he freezes below you. A squeaking sound pierces the silence, his hand squeezing the edge of the bath tub tightly. It startles you, your eyes blinking open as you pull back to look at him.

His cheeks are tinged pink, eyelids heavy as he peers up at you with slow blinks.

"You're tired," you breathe, unable to stop your hand from flitting to his hair, pushing a little behind his ear, "Let's get you to bed."

The Joel Miller in Bill and Frank's guest room is not the Joel Miller you thought you knew.

This Joel is loose, pliant. He lets you lead him into the bedroom with a hand on his back, lets you carefully turn him on the spot to reach up and undo the buttons on his flannel. Frank had told you on your way up to make sure Joel didn't get blood on the sheets, so you're only following orders, only doing what you were told.

"Sorry," you murmur softly, fingers shaking every so often as they toy with the buttons, sticky with his blood. Joel doesn't seem to notice though, retreating more and more into the sleepy state he'd been in earlier.

Once his flannel is off you assess his t-shirt and jeans, and you're not sure how to feel about the fact that they didn't get dirty in the fall. On the other hand, though, you're not sure you'd have been brave enough to take them off. Instead you help him toward the bed, pull back the sheets and carefully push him ahead.

"There you go," you whisper, helping him under the covers and pulling the blankets back over him. The sun is streaming through the window, casting the golden light of early evening across the bed, and while it's quite beautiful you shut the curtains anyway, knowing he'll sleep better in darkness. When you turn back around, he's already fallen asleep, lips parted, face peaceful. A different man.

You don't linger, even though you want to.

It's around ten o'clock when you decide to check on him again. You'd watched a movie with Bill and Frank, feeling more than a little unwelcome as Bill tossed you a few dirty looks every so often, though Frank repeatedly told you to ignore him. Now they're in bed downstairs while you pad from your own room across the hall to Joel's, turning the knob carefully. The hinges squeak a little as you open it and you wince.

"Who's there?" you hear Joel grumble from the bed. So much for just taking a peek.

"Me, just me." You push the door wider and walk inside, eyebrows going up when Joel turns on the bedside lamp. He seems a little more rested, although you know he still needs a full night's sleep. "I sent a message to Tess through the radio to let her know we're not coming back tonight - well, Frank did. Picked a song called Tomorrow or something like that."

"Hope it was the Johnny Mathis version," he mumbles, and you watch as he brings his hands up to rub across his face. He accidentally dismantles the bandage and you step forward without really thinking, hurrying to his side and reaching down to fix it.

His hand comes up to grab yours and you freeze in place.

"I can do it," he says, giving you a curt look and then releasing your hand to adjust the gauze himself.

Well, you suppose lax and sleepy Joel couldn't stick around forever. You stand awkwardly by the side of the bed, toying with the edge of the blanket as he rubs his eyes and sits up a little, leaning back against the headboard. He looks so much older in this light; you can see the little flecks of grey in his beard and hair that have been starting to get more noticeable lately, the crows feet, the wrinkles.

He's so handsome.

He turns to look at you with a frown, as if he's only just realizing what you said, "We can go back tonight, I'm fine."

"You're not and you know it. Besides, it's already past ten and now I'm tired, I won't be able to drive."

"I can drive."

"Joel," you surprise yourself by sitting down on the edge of the bed, narrowing your brow as you give him a serious look, "You can't drive. You almost fucking killed us both."

"No I-"

"Yes you did," your tone is firm, suddenly angry - are you angry? - "If I hadn't been talking to you, if I hadn't noticed something was wrong, you would've driven us off the damn road."

He goes quiet at that, frown deepening, the lines on his face more prominent in the low lamplight. You sigh, eyes falling to rest on where your hand is settled on the bed, only inches from his. Part of you wants to reach out and touch, feel the warmth of his skin, the rough of his palm - the other part decides to do something even more stupid.

"You called me baby."

It's out of your mouth before you've even really acknowledged it, and once the words have tumbled out you know there's no taking them back. Your gaze snaps back up to his, slightly surprised to see that he doesn't seem very shocked by your admission.

He clears his throat a little, averting his gaze and shuffling a bit under the covers, "Did I?"

"...Yeah."

You think maybe he'll say something else - anything else - but he doesn't. God, it really is like pulling teeth with him; he's so fucking beautiful but so impossible, never being able to expand on something unless prompted, never being able to answer a single question without jerking you around first. How the fuck has Tess managed to deal with it for so long?

The thought of Tess sends a wave of guilt through your body, Frank's words echoing in your head, but you shove it down.

"What made you... I mean why..." your voice is soft, apprehensive and shy in the quiet of the bedroom, "why'd you call me baby?"

A beat of silence. Then-

"Don't ask me that."

The mood has shifted, your sudden anger ebbing and his annoyance fading into something else, something on the brink of being real. He's avoiding your eyes, peering at the window with the curtains drawn and tapping his fingers anxiously against the mattress, so close to your hand. He's nervous; you're making him nervous.

You stay silent, hoping he'll speak again, hoping maybe just this one time he'll tell you what he's thinking.

"I don't know why."

The words are barely a whisper, almost like he's telling you a secret, and he leaves them hanging in the air briefly before amending - "Well," he sighs and finally looks at you, an emotion you can't place crossing his features, "that's not true. But... I didn't mean - fuck, I was passin' out, for Christ's sake, I didn't realize-"

He cuts himself off again, raising his hand up to press his fingers to the bridge of his nose, briefly forgetting the bandage. He winces when he comes in contact with the gauze, "Can I take this off? It's drivin' me fuckin' crazy."

"Let me do it," you say quietly, inching forward on the bed and reaching for his face. He flinches when you go to touch him, and your hand freezes mid-air.

"Sorry," he mutters, shaking his head like he's shaking off a sensation, a chill, "Go ahead."

With careful - and slightly trembling - fingers, you remove the bandage from his nose. It looks much better than before, no fresh blood in sight, and you suppose it's okay for him to keep it uncovered for the night. Without really thinking about it you gently thumb the side of his nose just shy of the cut, the tips of your other fingers brushing against his cheek.

"It's not too bad," you murmur, and before you know it you're suddenly cupping his jaw, feeling the weight of it in your palm. Your gaze falls to his lips, your thoughts going a mile a minute.

You realize you're close enough that you could kiss him, if you really wanted to. If he really wanted to. All it would take is one small movement, one little push from the both of you, one leap of faith...

And then he whispers your name, almost a warning, and it's like his thoughts are mirroring yours - like he can see exactly what you're picturing, wishing for. Your eyes meet his and you feel a flutter in your stomach when you see the way he's looking at you, a quiet hunger hidden in the deep brown.

You decide to test the waters. You lean in and softly press another kiss to his nose, this time without the gauze in the way. Just like you'd thought, his skin is hot under your lips, soft but scarred, and his smell - god, he smells so masculine and safe, invading your senses as your lips trail downwards to press a small kiss to his cupid's bow, then another to the corner of his mouth. It's sharp, prickly from his scruff, but it doesn't bother you in the slightest - in fact, you kind of like the dull pain, the way it grounds you, keeps you in the moment.

"Baby," he whispers, and a soft little whine falls from your lips without meaning to as your lips move to ghost across his mouth, going for another kiss - a real kiss.

He pulls away before you get there, but then his hand comes up to touch your face, big and wide. He holds you like you're precious, small. His baby.

"S'not right," he whispers, though his thumb strokes your cheek soothingly, "S'not okay for me to want you like that."

You close your eyes at his touch, breathing deeply, "But you do."

"Yeah, I do," you hear him murmur, "You know I do."

"For how long?"

He doesn't respond right away, just continues to stroke your cheek, hold what feels like all of you in his warm palm. You tilt your head a bit to the side, eyes fluttering open to look at him again. You catch the way his lips turn up a little at the movement.

"Too damn long," he sighs, "But that don't... that's not..." he brings his other hand up to cup the other side of your face, holding you still as he peers at you in earnest, brow furrowed, "Point is, we shouldn't... you shouldn't be out here alone with me. Tess knows how I-" he cuts himself off again, and you can see now how difficult it is for him to communicate like this, to be open and honest, "I told her it wasn't a good idea."

"Why?"

He laughs lightly, thumbs circling the apples of your cheeks, "'Cause look where we ended up." He swallows, eyes falling to your lips, "Look where you are right now, baby. Look where my damn hands are for cryin' out loud."

"Keep calling me baby," you breathe, a desperation in your voice that betrays your emotions, tears pricking in your eyes as the weight of this conversation comes crashing down around you. He wants you - he's always wanted you. His words to Tess about not wanting to put you in danger, wanting you to stay away, those soft looks you've shared in his apartment, the small talk, all of it - it's because he wants you.

"We can't do this," he murmurs, leaning in to press his forehead to yours, eyes closing, "I can't do this, you're so- you're too-" he groans, fingers digging into your hair, "You're so young, baby."

"I don't care," you whine, butting your head forward to chase his lips, suddenly yearning to be kissed and held and protected by him, be wrapped in his embrace.

But he pulls away, removing his hands from your face and shuffling back a bit on the bed, away from you. Your hand drops but you reach out pathetically for him anyway, moving closer, attempting to pull the covers back. His hands capture yours and he squeezes them firmly, shaking his head.

"You need to go back to your room," he tells you, and his tone has changed from soft to serious, "It's late and I'm... well, you know I'm fuckin' exhausted. And you've had a long day." He looks at you with pleading eyes, like he's silently begging for you not to put him in this situation, "Let's just call it a night, okay?"

"But-" you start, tears shining in your eyes.

"Please," he breathes, "Please don't make this harder than it needs to be."

You do not want to get up from his bed. But you do.

You do not want to leave his room. But you do.

You do not want to lie awake in your own bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how his hands felt on your face, the way his eyes searched yours, the way his skin felt under your lips.

But you do.

You lie there for hours, thumbs twiddling against your belly, tears trickling down your cheeks every so often. All you can hear in your mind over and over again is the word Baby, punctuated by that soft groan he'd made, the way his thumbs had stroked your cheeks, how large and warm and safe he'd seemed in that bed.

All you want to do is be in that bed with him.

So it's no surprise when, as the sun is beginning to rise and that warm golden light starts to stream through your window, you crawl out from under your blankets and cross the hall one more time.

"We shouldn't" he murmurs when you climb into bed with him, when you tuck yourself into his side and bury your face in his shoulder, but his hands are already in your hair, fingers stroking along the back of your head.

Your bodies mold together like they've always been meant to fit that way, your legs tangled with his, arms trapped under big biceps and hairy forearms, breasts flush with his suddenly bare chest.

"I wanna be your baby," you whisper.

The nose you'd kissed brushes slowly up and down the side of your face, and he doesn't hesitate this time. He reaches up to turn your head, presses his lips against yours and lets you melt into him. Lets you trail your hand downward to unbutton his jeans in the silence of the early morning.

"You already are."

[digitaldaydreamm]

https://www.tumblr.com/umathurwin/777141804870074368/rafe-who-keeps-a-buzz-cut-because-he-has-sensitive?source=share

This is so bsf rafe, just imagine him going to readers house (unannounced ofc) and he looks awful, like burnout and frowning like a puppy (probably because of ward or some shit) and reader tries comforting him by running her hands through his hair and she lays his head down on her chest (this whole situation was just an excuse to be face to face with her tits LMAO)

unspoken claim

rafe x childhood friend!reader

warnings: cursing, rafe laying on reader's chest lol

a/n: this is sooo soft rafe :') i'm also finally getting into your reqs, remember they're always open for those of you who have anything special you'd like to ask for/comment on (for any of my existing pairings or new ones you wanna suggest)!!

masterlist | taglist

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°

The sound of your front door unlocking has your stomach flipping before you even register it.

Only one person uses a key like that—slow, angry, like the metal itself pissed him off. Then it swings open, heavy footsteps stomping across the floor like your living room did something wrong.

You peek out from the kitchen.

He looks rough.

Hoodie thrown on haphazardly, eyes red and jaw clenched so hard you think he might grind his teeth down. There’s a tension in his shoulders that screams don’t talk to me—but he came here, so you know he wants you to ignore that.

“Rafe?”

“Don’t ask,” he mutters, already collapsing onto the couch like it’s the only thing holding him together.

You shut the fridge quietly and walk over to him. “You look like shit.”

“Feel worse.”

You stop next to the couch, crossing your arms. “What do you need?”

He looks up at you, dead serious. “You.”

It’s not romantic. It’s not soft. It’s bone-deep exhaustion, and he’s just saying what he means—like always.

You sigh and climb up next to him, folding your legs under you as you start running your fingers over his buzzcut. He exhales immediately, head tipping forward like his entire nervous system just got unplugged.

“God. That—” he mumbles, eyes fluttering shut. “Don’t stop.”

“Don’t plan to,” you say, brushing slow strokes along the top of his head. “You’re like a dog that needs head rubs to stay sane.”

“Woof,” he mutters sarcastically, and you laugh.

Then, without warning, he drops his head forward and lays it right on your chest.

You blink, tensing a little. “Rafe—”

“Relax,” he grumbles, voice muffled in your shirt. “M’not trying to cop a feel. You’re just soft.”

You roll your eyes, but your hand doesn’t stop moving through his hair. His body melts into yours, and the tension he came in with starts to dissolve bit by bit—still there, but dulled by your touch.

“What happened?” you ask after a beat.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Too late.”

He shifts a little, his arm hooking lazily around your waist like muscle memory, like this is where he’s meant to be when shit gets bad.

"I'll tell you about it later, 'kay?" His fingers bunch a tiny part of your shirt, gripping—not hard, just enough to keep you there.

“You’re the only one who lets me fall apart,” he says quietly.

Your heart squeezes.

“You don’t have to fall apart,” you whisper. “Not when you’re here.”

He hums, eyes still closed, and presses a little closer. “…You’re also the only person I don’t wanna hit when I’m like this.”

“Wow,” you snort. “Total green flag.”

He snickers tiredly, nose brushing your collarbone. “You love me.”

“Do not."

“You do,” he says, voice already lower, already slipping toward sleep. “You let me lay on your tits. That’s, like… ultimate love.”

You shake your head, smiling down at him as your fingers keep moving through his hair. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Lucky I have a key,” he mutters.

And with that, he’s out—completely relaxed for the first time in God knows how long, buried against your chest like your heartbeat’s the only thing keeping him steady.

You just keep stroking his hair, already knowing: maybe he won’t talk about what happened tonight. But he’ll show up tomorrow with coffee like nothing happened, like he didn’t practically collapse in your arms.

And that’s okay.

Because Rafe only lets himself break when he knows you’ll be there to put him back together.

[vanillarosekiss]

stepdad!simon riley with his naive-but-cute stepdaughter 👼🏼

IMPORTANT: idk why but my analytics have been super bad as of late (maybe i'm not posting at the right times?) and my posts just aren't getting as much interaction as they usually do. it would be such a great help to lmk if there's anything that you particularly want to see on this blog/a previous post that you liked so i can be sure i'm writing stuff that people ACTUALLY like :)

warnings: taboo themes, porn with no plot tbh, unprotected sex, overstimulation etc, etc...

word count: 0.4k

mmmm just over here thinking about stepdad!simon riley who just fucks sooo good that neither of you can stop, no matter how wrong you think it is…

it all started when he came home from a long, gruelling day at work. it was just you home alone that evening, tucked up on the couch reading one of your books, totally engrossed as he came in and sat down a mere few metres away from you. his head leant back on the couch, a small sigh leaving his lips as his aching body rested properly for the first time in hours.

and you. you were just so sweet to him, so kind. making him dinner, ensuring that his clothes got washed, doing anything you could to make his life easier — basically a little housewife for him to look forward to when he got home.

prancing around doing menial chores in the kitchen, living room, your bedroom, in the tiniest little pyjamas known to man. not that he was looking, of course (yes he was).

looking so lovely for him, the cutest little pink panties on show for him when your mini skirt rode up as you “accidentally dropped something”. plush thighs that were practically begging him to grab them and pull them apart just so he could fuck you right there and then.

which he did do, one day, after a particularly stressful shift. he couldn’t restrain himself and then you showed up, sweet innocent thing. didn’t know what you were really getting into at all. so naive.

looking even more dumb and naive as he fucked you brainless on the same couch. you laid out all nice over the arm with your ass up, meeting every harsh thrust of his hips, his pelvis bruising your soft skin as he pounded his thick cock into your cunt. your incessant whines that just made him fuck you even harder, until the only noise you made were the uneven gasps that would fall from your mouth at every stroke of his length.

the warm, fuzzy feeling you’d get when he came inside you, feeling him speed up, seize up, and twitch slightly just before as you squeezed your walls around him. the way he would keep going even when you’d orgasmed, overstimulating you to the point of tears and then making you cum harder than you previously had just to prove a point (the point is that he is the only person who should be fucking you).

mmm.. yeah. so perfect.

Tag list 𖠋: @punkkture @slut-lmao @sebastianstans-slut @ilikeoldmen @g1rlfa1lure0 @queenoflaflames @tmartin0918 @kkloubee @goldie-221 @patricksoulmate @writingandsins @mxnee777 @bittersweetfig @mlthree @cupidswan @siphon07 @decaffeinateddelusionbread

[glamourscat]

VANITAS x !VAMPIRE READER HCS

i am one day late but hbd to my fav non vamp that looks and acts more like a vamp than the vamps in his own show

• absolutely HATED that you were another vampire hanging around noè at first. "oh merveilleux, another bloodsucker with a hero complex"

• gets increasingly irritated that you can see right through his act sometimes. you'll just give him this knowing look when he's being particularly dramatic and he DESPISES it (but also kind of doesn't?)

• if you have some kind of “power” like noè does, he will be secretly fascinated by how different you are from other vampires he's met. keeps trying to study you "for research" but really he's just making excuses to be around you

• absolutely loses it when you team up with noè to mother-hen him about his health. "i don't need TWO vampires telling me to sleep!"

• loves riling you up just to see your eyes flash red. will make increasingly outrageous statements just to get a reaction

• gets weirdly quiet when you talk about your childhood with noè. definitely not jealous. nope. not at all. (he's totally jealous)

• gets VERY flustered when you use your vampire strength to pick him up or protect him, but tries to play it off with his usual dramatics

• absolutely despises how you can tell when he's actually hurt vs when he's being dramatic. "stop looking at me like that, i'm FINE"

• has definitely stayed up all night reading your name in the blue moon records multiple times, but will never admit it

• gets oddly soft when you fall asleep near him during research sessions, but will immediately return to his usual self if anyone catches him looking

• Will subtly, or not so subtly, hint at you to drink his blood more than once. and when you do it? Well let’s just say if you two are a match, he won’t be quiet lmao

• noè finds your whole dynamic hilarious and keeps "accidentally" leaving you two alone together

BLURB UNDER THE CUT

The first time you met Vanitas, you'd nearly thrown him out a window.

"Noè," you'd said, holding the struggling human by his collar, "why is there a suspicious man with your book?"

"Put me down this instant, you bloodsucking menace!" The dark-haired man had thrashed in your grip, blue eyes flashing with indignation. "I am the great Vanitas, and that book is rightfully mine!"

You'd turned to Noè, unimpressed. "Can I throw him out the window?"

"Please don't throw my friend out the window, mon amie," Noè had laughed, looking far too amused. "He really is the owner of that book, the book of Vanitas."

You looked at Noè, eyebrow up. Looking between him and the short human. Book of vanitas. But that’s the blue moon vampire. This guy looks everything but a vampire.

Eventually, you set him down. Rather gently, all things considered.

"Your concern for my wellbeing is touching," Vanitas had said sarcastically , straightening his clothes with exaggerated care. "Tell me, do all vampire childhood friends of Noè's manhandle innocent humans, or am I just special?"

"Only the suspicious ones who smell like lies and… cheap cologne."

His eye had twitched. "Charming. Noè, you didn't tell me your friend was so... direct."

"(Y/N) has always been rather protective," Noè had smiled that knowing smile of his. "You two will get along splendidly."

You'd both turned to him with identical looks of horror.

"We absolutely will not—"

"I'd rather drink holy water—"

But Noè had just kept smiling, and somehow... somehow he'd been right. Though you'd both rather die than admit it.

Even now, months later, as you watched Vanitas patch you up, while complaining under his breath something along the lines of "ungrateful bloodsucker," you couldn't help but smile amused. He caught your stare and scowled.

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," you said innocently. "Just admiring your terrible manners."

"I could let you bleed out next time, you know."

"No, you couldn't."

His scowl deepened because you were right. You were always right about him and he hated it. Or maybe not. But you didn’t had to know that.

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[lun9tic]

- NEEDY

| pairing: ian x bestfriend!reader

| warnings: smutt, smoking weed

| summary : after smoking a blunt together your real feelings for each other come out

| A/N : my writing gets so awkward during writing smut im sorry, i tried to make this one more soft then my last one LMAO, and give me requestss!! i want to write for hamzah and maybe some harry potter characters. anyways enjoy and comment pls. ALSO WHY IS THE IAN TAG SO DRY??? COME ON GUYS

After a nice dinner with Ian and a group of friends, the two of you step into the elevator, full of food and ready to sleep. “God damn, that was amazing,” Ian says, rubbing his stomach as you press the button for the 10th floor.

“I know, I feel like I’m pregnant now. Look,” you joke, turning to the side in front of the elevator mirror and puffing out your stomach before sucking it back in. Ian bursts out laughing at you.

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. Still laughing, the two of you step out and make your way to the hotel room you’re sharing.

You and Ian have been friends since middle school, watching him grow as an artist like he's always wanted.

You and Ian have been inseparable since middle school, bonding over your love for music, and several late night conversations. You always saw the way his eyes lit up whenever he talked about becoming a big artist, it wasn’t just a dream to him, it was something he was sure to achieve.

Since then, you’ve watched him grow and spend countless hours perfecting his talent with music, starting with DJing. His progress has been nothing but inspiring to you, no matter what he just never gave up. You’ve been there through all the moments of doubt, the nights he stayed up late working on a beat, and the excitement when his hard work paid off. It’s been so nice to witness him chase his dreams.

Watching Ian grow so fast in the underground rapper industry was your favorite part. It was like one night he completely blew up and all his hard work finally paid off. since then you have been to every show, every interview, and every studio session, he wouldn’t want to have anyone else there but you.

“I'm gonna change out of this dress,” you say quietly as you both walk into the cold room. “alright.” ian says before getting into bed. you kneel at your luggage and pick out your pajamas for the night before going to the bathroom to change and freshen up.

After freshening up you leave the bathroom to see Ian outside, on the balcony rolling a blunt. you step outside and close the balcony door before sitting on the plastic chair beside him. The air was warm with an ocean breeze, the smell of the fresh air hitting your nose. The sky was clear, and a nice view of the moon and a couple stars.

You glance over at Ian, as he finishes rolling a blunt. With a small sigh, you unlock your phone and start scrolling, posting a few pictures from earlier in the day.

You're interrupted from scrolling when Ian reaches over, pulling your phone from your hand. “Get off your phone,” he says, setting it on the small glass table in front of you. He leans back on the bench, taking a slow puff from the blunt. “Talk to me. feel like we haven’t talked as much as we usually do.”

He passes the blunt to you, his blue eyes meeting yours. You take a hit from the blunt, exhaling before saying “We have talked. But okay, how are you?” you ask, smiling as you lean your head against the glass door behind you and resting your legs on top of his thighs.

He chuckles softly, his left hand resting on your legs, rubbing them softly with his thumb. “I’m good. How are you?” “I’m good, you know,” you shrug, a smile still on your lips.

Ian laughs again, and takes another hit. ian continues the conversation as the two of you continue passing the blunt back and forth, talking about the past for the next twenty minutes.

ians blue eyes, slightly bloodshot and glassy from the weed, stare at the side of your face as you talk. you pretend to not notice it but his stare is so intense its impossible to ignore.

Finally, you turn to him, your own eyes soft and red-tinted. “What?” you ask, a playful smile curving your lips.

His lips twitch into a matching smile as he shakes his head. “Nothing.” “You won't stop staring at me," you laugh softly, trying to hide from his stare by resting your head on his shoulder.

"You're so pretty," he murmurs, his voice quiet . The words catch you off guard, making you sit up to meet his eyes. "Yeah?" you ask, a small smile on your lips. "Yeah," he nods.

Silence falls between you, the air thick with emotions. You can't tell if he's just saying it to say it or if he really means it.

Before you can think too much, he leans in, closing the space between you and pressing his lips to yours. You let out a soft whimper of surprise against his lips, but quickly give into the kiss, your right hand resting on his thigh as you lean closer.

"I've wanted this for so long," he says against your lips as the kiss breaks, his hands on your waist. A shy smile blooms on your face as you whisper, "Me too." Before you kiss him again.

His hands find your hips, gripping them firmly as he pulls you onto his lap to straddle him. The closeness leaves you breathless, and lost in him.

you both continue to make out, the pent up love for each other finally coming out. “Let's go inside” he says as his hands grip your ass. you nod and get off his lap, Ian takes your hand and leads you inside the room.

The balcony door shuts close as you both stumble your way to the bed, lips connected and hands all over each other. the back of your knees hit the end of the bed, making you both fall down on the bed.

Your hands run over Ian's broad shoulders, you reach for the end of his shirt, pulling it to signal him to take it off. His lips leave yours briefly, and he quickly pulls off his shirt before his lips are back on yours once again, the kiss more desperate than before.

“ian” you whimper as his lips leave yours to trail kisses down your chest. “I got you baby.” he murmurs before his fingers tug down your sweat pants. your hips lift, helping him take off your sweats.

he throws your sweats to the side and quickly takes your panties off. His eyes stare at your wet cunt, grabbing your legs and spreading you open. He glances up at you with parted lips before he attaches his lips with your wet cunt making you gasp and shut your eyes.

Ian moans at the taste of you, the vibration from his moan making you whimper. his eyes close as his lips suck your clit, and brings his hand up, sliding a finger into you. “i-ian” you moan at the feeling, you hand wrapped in his brown hair, leading him to where you need him.

Ian groans at the taste of you. the sounds from his mouth, the feeling of his warm wet tongue sucking your cunt and large fingers moving quickly in and out of you. moans leave your lips as Ian curls his fingers inside you.

“Ian” you moan, clenching around his fingers, feeling your high coming but it's interrupted by Ian pulling his fingers out and sitting up in between your legs. “the fuck?-“

he shuts you up by leaning down and connecting his lips with yours. “taste so fucking good” he mumbles. “Take off your pants” you slur with a smile.

Ian chuckles and takes his pants off before crawling over you again. his lips connect to yours once again as he feels up on you. “tell me i can” he says against your neck, breathless. lost in the feeling of him around you you don’t hear what he says. “what?”

“tell me i can fuck you baby,” he kisses you “please”. you bite your lip at his needy tone and nod “yes”. he smiles at your words and lifts your legs to rest them on his shoulders. the look in his eyes make you clench around nothing, you’ve never heard or seen him so desperate for something, it was so hot.

Ian lines himself at your entrance and rubs his dick up and down your wet folds. “you’re so gorgeous” he watches you as he slowly slides his dick in, wanting to see your reaction.

your lips part at the stretch from his dick and hold back a moan. “oh..” you moan, turning your head to your side to avoid his hard stare. Ian quickly reaches for your cheek and makes you look at him, “nuh uh keep your eyes on me” he groans, making you whimper.

Ian lets go of you face and places his hands on you hips, rocking you in a slow pace. “tell me how it feels” he moans with his head slightly thrown back. “feels so good ian” you moan, you put your hand over his right one gripping your hip.

at that, ian speeds up his thrusts, holding on tighter to you. “sh-shit” he moans. the hotel room fills with the sounds of your moans mixed together, and the clapping from his harsh thrusts.

you jolt up at every thrust, the look in his eyes was so intimate. you reach up for his face, making him lean down to your touch. “i- fuck-“ he whispers, hiding his face in your neck. you moan back and hold his face in your hands, pulling him in for a kiss.

you kiss his lips and rest your forehead against his. “you’re perfect” he groans making you smile. “y-you too” you respond breathlessly making him smile and kiss your lips again.

Ian pulls away from you and continues his pace, his left hand letting go of your hip and moving to your clit, rubbing it. “Ian!” you moan gripping his arm, you could feel yourself reaching your high again. “oh fuck- please” your legs slightly shake around his shoulders, as you feel his fingers rub your clit.

“come on baby” he moans, his thrusts starting to become sloppy. you stare up into his eyes, lost in the pleasure. the feeling was so intimate you both couldn’t do anything but moan and reach your highs.

ian groans “fuck- im cumming baby” you moan in response, too lost in pleasure. you clench around his dick, feeling your self let go and cum. “oh-” you moan as tour legs tremble, Ian moans as you clench around him, making him cum. “fuuuck baby” he moans with his lips parted as he pulls put of you.

you lay down on the bed, catching your breath as ian goes to the bathroom to grab a towel. he comes back to you and chuckles seeing you still laying down. you cover your face as you blush, “stop ian” he laughs and cleans you up, before helping you back into your pants.

your both now fully dressed and holding each other on the bed, Ian’s hands run over your hair as you both sit in silence. it wasn’t an awkward silence at all, its was a comfortable silence, no worry or doubt in the sex you both just had.

“let me be your boyfriend,” he whispers before kissing your forehead “ive always wanted us to happen, always.”

you open your eyes and look up at him with a smile before nodding, “me too.” he smiles and pulls you in for a passionate kiss before pulling away and falling asleep holding each other.

[tra1nchi]

HIII, IM SORRY FOR THE GLORY HOLE REQUEST, I WAS DRUNK THAT DAY TOO!!! I'm going to reques for it well. can i request a bttm male reader who is looking to be filled then goes to the glory hole he once saw and not only gets a cock from behind, but also from the front? btw English is not my first language, im sorry if you don't understand

Lmao it is a ok!! MINORS DNI!! Bttm male reader,,glory hole,,bj,,choking,,rough sex

You were incredibly horny lately,,but all of your usual hookups were either out of town or were not in the mood at all to fuck you!! You were growing desperate so when one of your friends recommended the local glory hole,,you took up on his offer!!

At first you were nervous,,not knowing whose cock would be stuffed inside of your hole,,but the more you thought about it,,the more you knew how much you'd enjoy the mystery of it >□<

staying still in the glory hole,,the cold air on your ass somewhat uncomfortable,,you dealt with it until you felt a rough hand on your skin,,tracing it slowly,,

"Look at you.." A deep voice purrs out,,his cock tip rubs up against your already lubed hole,,moving it around your thighs teasingly before his hands grip tightly onto your hips!! His was so deep already!!

As you felt the strangers cock moving in and out of you,,a soft hand moved to tilt your chin up,,a low smirk on the new man's face,,his thumb tracing the drool on your lips as you contuine to get pounded from behind!!

"This isn't.. how this works but, I'm sure you don't mind" His unzipped his fly,,bringing himself to your mouth,,and after a particularly harsh thrust you opened your mouth willingly for the second man's dick!! >○<

Being taken from behind and from the front was so good,,both men grabbing onto your body as your own cock was pitifully ignored,,maybe you should come to the glory hole more often,, just to experiment,,

Even as they cum inside of you,,using your mouth as a fleshtiy and your hole as something in which they can piston their dicks into!!

[sinning-23]

please please please do different arcane/opla character's kinks???? (preferably some Jayce but yk-)

OMG I was just returning to arcane roots. Mind you I haven't seen the recent season (Im waiting for my mom and sister since we all watched dit together) UHH take these smutty lil kinky lil headcanona!

P.s For as much smut as i write I have the hardest time remembering the differences between kinks and fetishes BUT I think I got it down lol. Bare with me yall.

P.P.S. I'll make a part two with some more of these guys lol I started to draw a blank on a few and get burnt out but I want to provide QUALITY writing to y'all

Enjoy-

Silco

Yknow every time I come on this god forsaken app I find myself thirsting over dead midleages if not older men....

Ahem

Smoking and Begging I feel like would be two kinks of his. And like he already is a smoker so just translating that over to the bedroom....oof.

I feel like he's the type to smoke after or before, but like in a way that relaxes him even further? YK what I'm saying? Perhaps he'll even offer you some with a firm grip on your face while he blows smoke into your mouth, just before he kisses you.

I also think the begging gets him hot under the collar. Just the idea of his partner asking so desperately for release knowing he's in control of whether they're allowed to or not really does it for him. He's ruthless but sweet in the most deliciously contradicting way. Saying things like, " Begging is so unbecoming of you my dear," or "You can beg better than that, I thought you wanted to cum?"

Sevika

Sevika my belovedddddd <3 come home baby the kids miss you lmao. Sevika seems like the type to be down for a lot but also has her limits? One thing that really gets her going though is overstim/multiple orgasms. Please let her pull as many as she can from you its literally her favorite thing watching her partner come undone. She likes to see how messy you get and how your thighs tremble and shake, damn near tensing up from the strain.

She starts slow. Maybe two...then three more.....how bout we shoot for 4 to 5? SIx you say?! Alright, let's just say fuck it and go for 7.

"C'mon, you can give me one more. Thatssss it, let go."

Vander

This is a harworking, loving, family man okay. He doesn't have time for a lot...However, he definitely has time to just have you squeeze down on him with those hot, wet walls, simply existing. Ahhh yes the art of cockwarming in cwich he is an expert in. Hes a sneaky fucker too, taking time to just position you in front of him so he can slip his cock into you, just enjoying your warmth. No movement, just there, your back to his chest, pretending like nothing is happening behind the counter.

He especially enjoys the late nights, your bodies melted into one as you just sinkkkkk down on him, just adjusting to his length, fighting the urge to move as does he. Just that's part of the fun. Expect lots of soft gentled caresses as yout walls memorize him

Vi

Babygirls got a thing for hot chicks in uniform. Be in business attire, military, or otherwise, she loves it.

I mean, honestly, I was not hot about clean white button-downs tucked into fancy dress pants adorned by emblems of silver or gold. A nice neat hairstyle, no flyaways, very much office siren.

And please god don't let you have a snappy domineering attitude, telling her what to do, sexily taunting. Babygirl will be weak in the knees.

Jinx

I don’t think she’d have any kinks if I’m being honest. I see Jinx as a very experimental and fun but soft and vanilla lover. She enjoys being treated softly and gentle, especially in a moment of vulnerability like being intimate with a partner.

Viktor

I hate to be the one to say it but stalkings/knee highs and glasses… Yall HEAR ME OUTTT HEAR ME OUT! I know that sounds really bad but if you see the vision. I feel like Viktor is a lover of pretty things, patterns and decoration. The feeling of lace or tights under his fingertips, the thrill of being the one who gets to remove your glasses before you go down on him.

All is truly a treat in his pretty yellow eyes. Especially when it's his beloved and devoted partner. He takes his time with you treating you delicately as he pulls the fabric off your kneesocks away to reveal pretty legs he gets to you all the way up to the main prize. He likes taking his time unwrapping his gifts. His favorite part is discarding it all from your body. Or at the very least, making you do it.

"Strip." He hums, leaning forward as you shed layers of clothes with a smile.

Ekko

At first I was thinking that mmm Ekko doesn't have any really kinks. Maybe he’s more vanilla but then I got thinking…

Nah nah this guy..

He likes being bitten.

Oddly enough he wasn’t sure why when you had first done it on impulse, the two of you in one of your more intimate moments. You hand grazed his shoulder, only applying slight pressure before stopping yourself from going too hard but the sound it pulled form him. Gorgeous.

“D-Do it again. Please?” He asks, lifting a bit above your too see your glossed fucked our eyes.

“Bite you?” You reiterate, trying to read him and it’s nothing but pure lust and adoration.

“Baby, please.” He huffs, lulling his neck to the side, giving you access.

Please mark him up he really likes it.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

hey love

I didn’t exactly know if ur requests are open, so if not then please just ignore this <33

I need comfort so bad, but I already read so much fics and find find new ones lmao.and don’t let me start with ur writing, everything u write especially angst is so good🥹❤️

so I have a requesttt:

Fem reader x Minho

where she has had depression before, but a he seemed to be getting better, like she talked more again, she ate better, she just seemed happier. But then all of a sudden it gets worse. Ofc min notices, but when he’s around she always tries to act happy and stuff. But one day he gets home sooner than expected and finds her sobbing and breaking down in the bathroom (lmao pls if ur confused, for some reason I always cry in the bathroom lol) and yea, I’m letting u decide how it goes then.

make it really angsty but with loooots of comfort too.

don’t stress with writing it, and if you don’t want to write it that’s totally okay❤️

take care of yourself, and have a great day/night. <3333

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Minho was meticulous. He noticed the tiniest details, the way your favorite mug shifted slightly to the back of the cabinet when you weren't feeling like tea, or how your laughter sounded softer, like it took more effort to push past your lips. And lately, he’d been noticing things he didn’t want to see- the way you seemed to retreat into yourself, the shadows under your eyes that your concealer couldn’t quite hide, the way your smiles didn’t quite reach those same eyes anymore.

But you always brushed him off whenever he asked.

“I’m fine, Min,” you’d say, your voice bright but fragile. “Just tired. Work’s been a lot.” And you’d give him that reassuring grin, the one you’d perfected, the one you thought could fool him.

He’d let it go, though he hated himself for it, because he didn’t want to push you too hard.

Although he feels that maybe he should have pushed you harder to seek help, before it got worse.

Today was supposed to be no different. Minho had a packed schedule with rehearsals and meetings, so you were confident you’d have the day to yourself. Alone, you didn’t have to wear the mask. Alone, you could let the weight crush you, let the tears flow freely.

It had been a long time since you felt weightless. Not the weightlessness that people romanticized, no. They simplest type of weightlessness. Like you could draw in a breath without fear of suffocation. Like you could close your eyes with the excitement of opening them the next day. The type of weightlessness where you could simply live.

It started small: an ache in your chest that grew and grew until it felt like a gaping hole. You couldn’t stop thinking about how much of a burden you must be with your depression; how your progress had crumbled, leaving you worse off than before. The spiral was quick and suffocating. Before you knew it, you were sitting on the bathroom floor, knees drawn to your chest, sobbing into your hands. The cold tile pressed against your legs, grounding you slightly, but not enough to stop the flood of thoughts.

You didn’t hear the door unlock. You didn’t hear Minho’s footsteps. The first thing you registered was his voice, soft and hesitant.

“Y/N-ah?”

You froze. Panic set in as you frantically wiped at your face, trying to compose yourself.

“Ah. Minho? What are you doing home so early?” you called out, voice strained. You continued to wipe your eyes, hoping that you could buy yourself enough time to look presentable. "Sorry I'm in the middle of-"

He didn’t wait to hear your response. Instead, the bathroom door creaked open. His expression when he saw you broke something inside of you.

His sharp eyes, usually filled with teasing or affection, were wide with worry. He crouched down in front of you without a word, his hands hovering near yours as if asking permission to touch you.

“Jagiya,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?”

Your chest tightened, and fresh tears welled in your eyes. “I didn’t want to worry you,” you whispered. “You’re so busy, and I didn’t want to-”

“Stop,” he cut you off gently but firmly. He reached out, his hands cradling your tear-streaked face. “Stop thinking like that. You could never be a burden to me. Do you hear me? Never.”

The tenderness in his voice unraveled you completely. You broke down again, and this time, Minho was there to catch you. He pulled you into his arms, his grip steady and unwavering. You found yourself curling into his lap as he leaned against the toilet.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into your hair. “I’m here. You can cry.”

You clung to him like a lifeline, your sobs muffled against his shoulder. He rocked you gently, humming a soft tune, his hands stroking your back in soothing patterns. He didn’t rush you, didn’t tell you to calm down. He just let you feel.

When your cries finally subsided, leaving you exhausted and shaky, Minho pulled back just enough to look at you. His thumb brushed away the lingering tears on your cheeks.

“I thought I was getting better,” you confessed in a broken whisper. “I thought I was okay, but now it’s worse, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Minho’s gaze softened, and he cupped your face again. “It’s not about fixing it,” he said. “It’s about taking it one day at a time. Some days will be harder than others, but you don’t have to face them alone. I’ll be with you every step of the way. Because you're not broken Y/N. You just need a little guidance. Thats all.”

You nodded, though doubt still lingered in the corners of your mind. “But what if I-”

“No,” he interrupted. “No ‘what ifs.’ We’ll deal with whatever comes, together. Promise me you’ll let me in next time. I need you to let me help you.” He blinked at you, his mouth in a straight line. "Okay? Because I love you."

The sincerity in his voice broke through the wall you’d built around yourself. You nodded again, this time with a small spark of hope.

“I promise,” you whispered.

Minho smiled, a rare, soft smile that was just for you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. 

“Good,” he said. “Now, let’s get you out of here, okay? The bathroom floor isn’t exactly the coziest spot.”

You let out a watery laugh, and he helped you to your feet, keeping an arm around you for support. He guided you to the couch, where he wrapped you in a blanket and disappeared into the kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned with a steaming cup of tea and some of your favorite snacks.

“Eat,” he said, sitting beside you and pulling you close, to where you two were almost molded together. “And then we’ll figure out what’s next.”

For the first time in days, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter, even if it was just temporary. With Minho by your side, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you could get through this.

As the night went on, Minho stayed close. He didn’t just hover; he engaged you, talking about anything and everything- his latest dance routines, funny stories from practice, even the drama among the cats at home. The warmth in his presence was infectious, and you found yourself smiling more than you expected.

When it was time for bed, Minho tucked you in and slid in beside you. He didn’t say much, just held you close, his arms protective and comforting as he cradled you from behind. Before sleep claimed you, he whispered, “I love you, Y/N. No matter how hard it gets, I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time in a long while, you felt safe. Truly safe. And as you drifted off, wrapped in his embrace, you dared to believe that things could get better.

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

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@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

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@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz

[merlyybird]

charmy's pb&j adventure

["i'm gonna write a little slice of life as a warmup" i said before writing ~2400 words lmao. hope you enjoy!]

"I'm hungry," Charmy said.

Vector glanced over from where he sat hunched at the desk, in the middle of listening to a client on the phone and taking notes on his notepad---his pen halted when he heard Charmy speak up. He carefully angled the phone away from his mouth before whispering back. "Go get some food, then. I'm busy."

"Can I have a peanut butter and jelly?"

Vector's brow set itself in a line. "You can have cheese crackers. I'll make you a sandwich when I'm done with this call," his eyes flicked back to the phone. "All right?"

Charmy furrowed his brow and raised his voice without even knowing it---all he knew is that he felt kind of mad now. "Why can't I make me a sandwich?"

"Charmy---!" Vector hushed for a moment to see if the client had heard him on the other line, then he faced Charmy and made a zip it! motion in front of his mouth.

"Look," he hissed, "We can make one together when I'm done, but you can't use a knife when I'm not there."

"Why not??"

"What do you mean, 'why not'? You cut your finger last year! Had to get stitches and everything! You don't remember---" Vector started and quickly straightened up in his desk chair, facing forward again and bringing the phone close to his mouth. "Uh---Yeah, I'm still here, sir! Just speaking with my associate...Can you, uh, gimme that whole last part again?"

Charmy remained there, hovering, for a few moments. He kept staring at Vector, waiting for him to change his mind, but Vector just said an occasional "Uh-huh" to the client and started writing on his notepad again. After a moment, he shot Charmy an intense look that plainly said, don't you dare.

Charmy let his arms unfold, his expression a little droopy with sadness now. He puttered out of the front office and meandered toward the kitchen with his head slightly bowed.

He couldn't use a knife? Just a butter knife, not even a real one? That accident was a whole year ago, and he was still little and stupid then. He wasn't little anymore. He knew how to do it right. After all, he'd watched Vector and Espio make a sandwich, like, a gazillion times, and they didn't even need to cut anything.

Well, he was gonna show them. It didn't matter that Vector had said no, because he was gonna show him he had nothing to worry about.

Charmy made it to the kitchen, which was currently empty and floating in soft late-morning light. He put a finger to his chin, squinted, and took inventory of where everything was. The bread was in the bread box. The peanut butter was in the cabinet. The jelly was in the fridge. And the knife would be with all the other silverware. It still gave him a tiny twinge of anxiety to think about using one---the incident last year still stuck out in his mind---but it was easy enough to push down and ignore.

Something Charmy had always liked to hold over his coworkers' heads was that he could fly, so he could reach all the cabinets with total ease, even the one above the fridge. It didn't take much effort to gather all the ingredients and lay them out on the counter.

He decided to pull up one of the kitchen chairs to sit on while he worked, though. He remembered that, last year, he had cut himself while he was hovering and trying to slice an orange. Maybe staying still would be safer, and then the others would see that he was good at being careful.

Once he was seated at the counter, Charmy pulled open the silverware drawer. The Chaotix kept utensils in various sizes---big forks for Vector, medium forks for Espio, small forks with different-colored rubber grips for Charmy. It kind of made him think about the story with the three bears, where each member of the household had something meant just for them. He wasn't too keen on being the "baby bear," though.

The butter knives sat in the far right part of the drawer. There were no small, Charmy-sized ones. He stared at the knives for a few moments, suddenly frozen in place. Was he scared? Why? This was a stupid thing to be scared about.

He reached in and took one of the medium ones. It felt surprisingly like holding any other utensil: fairly light and a little flimsy. Charmy let out his breath. Maybe the thought of it just seemed scarier after he'd cut himself last year.

Charmy put down the knife and took his time setting everything up. He opened the bread bag, grabbed two slices, and put them on the counter (that's what you were supposed to do, right?)

He decided to start with the jelly, because that was his favorite, and he wanted to add as much as possible now that he had the power. He went to open the lid, but found it stuck. Charmy glared and tried again---it wouldn't budge. It just hurt his hand.

He grunted and twisted the lid with all his might. "Come on!" he said to himself, "Come on! Why'd ya have to close it so tight, Vector---!"

All of a sudden, the lid flew off. Charmy shrieked as the jelly jar slipped out of his hand at the same time. He dove out of his chair and managed to catch it just before it hit the floor, but some of the jelly still sloshed over the edge and splatted on the tile, and some of it got on his gloves, too. Now they were all stained with splotches of grape-purple.

Charmy stood up, put the jelly jar on the counter, and hurried for the tea towel hanging on the dishwasher. He tore it off, tried to clean his gloves---which got rid of the jelly, but still left the stains behind---and threw it on the mess on the floor. He stared at the tea towel for a second as it lay there, just barely covering up the splatter.

He couldn't let Vector and Espio see, but he'd have to clean it up later. He'd get in even worse trouble if they saw him using a knife on his own.

Charmy returned to his chair and tried to pretend like nothing happened. He eyed the butter knife for a second before picking it up and dipping it into the jelly jar. Sticking his tongue out for focus, he scooped out the tiniest little bit of jelly, then paused. That was actually really easy.

Charmy's eyes brightened, and, more confident now, he went in for a much bigger scoop that immediately turned out to be more than he'd bargained for---he ended up with a big blob in the middle of the slice of bread. He pursed his mouth and tried to spread it around, even it out a little, but the jelly just ended up flooding the whole slice in a thick, gooey sheet that dripped over the edges and onto the counter.

Well...at least the sandwich would taste really sweet. And at least he had finally used a knife without---

"Charmy?" He jumped and turned to see Espio standing in the doorway, looking confused at first, but as realization dawned on his face, his expression quickly turned to exasperation. "What are you doing?"

Charmy gasped and hid the knife behind his back. "Don't tell Vector!"

"You're not supposed to do this by yourself," Espio said, approaching. He crouched down to wipe up as much of the jelly spill as he could with the tea towel, still on the floor. "You're making a mess, Charmy. Look at this, there's jelly everywhere."

"Well---" Charmy glanced at the spillage on the counter. He felt a little embarrassed, but doubled down so that he wouldn't show it. "I was hungry!"  

"Why didn't you just ask Vector for help?" Espio balled up the dirty tea towel in his hands, put it on the counter, then stood up. His gaze lingered on Charmy for a second before he raised both of his eyebrows. "Is that a knife?" Charmy hid it further and shook his head. Espio held his hand out. "Give it."

"No!" Charmy pouted his lip and wormed back and forth as Espio tried to snatch it from him. When Espio straightened up and disappeared with Leaf Swirl, Charmy flapped his wings and stole into the air just before Espio could poof back into view behind him.

"Stop trying to take it!" Charmy called, "I got it! I'm being safe!"

Espio closed his eyes, sighed, and brought a hand to his face. "Charmy, put the knife down."

"No!"

"Vector won't be happy when he sees you with it."

"I don't care!"

Espio paused for a moment to look up at Charmy. Then, he dropped his arms and shook his head. "Fine. Come down from there and I'll help you."

"How come someone always has to 'help' me?" Charmy settled to sit on top of the fridge and folded his arms, still holding on tight to the butter knife. "I fight robots all the time! And you send me on missions and stuff! I'm---I'm just as good as you guys!" His voice started to choke up, against his will. "How come you still treat me like a baby?"

Espio's eyes widened in surprise, and the whole room went still. Charmy tried his hardest to hold in tears, because if he started crying, he really would look too little to do anything.

After a few moments, Espio lowered his head.

"You're not a baby, Charmy," he began, "We know that better than anyone, because we do trust you. You're just inexperienced when it comes to matters of working in the kitchen. It's the reason you thought cutting an orange with a butter knife would be safe."

"Well, I don't think that anymore," Charmy huffed.

"Yes, because you made a mistake and learned from it. It doesn't mean you're ready to prepare food alone." Espio gestured toward the jelly mess all over the counter. "See? Without someone to tell you that's enough, you went overboard."

Charmy followed his gaze. He sniffed and furrowed his brow again. "...I guess so."

"Precision comes with experience," Espio continued, "Which usually comes with age." He paused. "Although...I suppose you do have a point. You have accomplished many things that other children your age have not."

Charmy kicked his feet idly back and forth. "Yeah," he said, "'Cause I'm a detective, and I've fought Dr. Eggman, like, a bunch of times."

His expression turned contemplative as he mulled over Espio's words. He thought about the handful of people he knew who were his age, usually just acquaintances he ran into at the park. Their lives sure seemed a whole lot more boring and small than his did. But, recently, he'd come to realize that 'boring' meant 'normal' for most people.

"I guess other kids still get their moms to make them sandwiches." He frowned. "But...but I'm supposed to be better than them! 'Cause I do all that dangerous stuff!"

Espio nodded, sighed, and smiled softly up at Charmy. "I think your strange skillset is owed to this...strange household," he said, "Vector and I aren't exactly the mothers you see at the park. And you aren't exactly the kids you meet there, are you?"

No, he wasn't. Espio was right, and Charmy wasn't sure how to feel about that.

The two of them lingered in silence for a few moments.

"I have an idea," Espio piped up at last. "Since we have the time, I could teach you my sandwich-making technique. That way, in the future, you can do it on your own." He straightened his back. "Consider it...training." 

Charmy gasped and brightened up again. "Really? You're gonna give me sandwich training??"

"Sure," Espio gestured to the mess on the counter, "If you help me clean this up."

"Yippee! You got it!"

***

"Hey, I'm off the phone," Vector called as he headed for the kitchen. He knocked on the doorway with one knuckle. "Charmy? You in here?" 

He stopped when he saw Espio standing at the counter, walking Charmy through putting two halves of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich together. "Make sure you lift up the peanut butter half," he said, "If you lift the jelly half, the jelly will slide off---"

"I know what I'm doing, Espio," said Charmy from where he sat on one of the kitchen chairs. Despite this, he still slammed the halves of bread together a little too hard, and jelly squished out from the sides.

Espio sighed. "Well, at least you're finished now." He turned to see Vector walking in. "Ah, hello. Done talking to that client?"

"Vector!" Charmy grinned, picked up one of the three plates sitting on the counter, and buzzed over to where Vector was standing. "Here! I made you one, too!"

Vector looked down at a very sloppily made peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "Oh," he said, taking it, "Hey, thanks. I've been thinkin' I could go for some food." He opened his jaw, threw the entire sandwich in, and ate it in one gulp. He took a second to let the extremely sweet taste settle in. "...Lotta jelly."

"Yeah, it's Charmy-Style," Charmy beamed at him, "And Espio helped me!"

"He still has some, well...room to grow," Espio made a face as he picked up his own sandwich and excess peanut butter-jelly sludge dripped out the bottom. "But the result is...functional, I guess."

"Well, well. Looks like stuff worked out." Vector watched as Charmy returned to the counter to grab his own sandwich, then flew over to sit on Vector's shoulder while he ate it. Vector smiled up at him. "Hey, sorry if I made ya feel bad earlier. You've grown up a lot since last year. I should probably trust ya to do something as easy as makin' a sandwich, huh?"

"Mm-hmm," Charmy said mid-bite. "I'm good at it now!"

"Well...good is a strong word," Espio corrected, "You're still just starting out."

Charmy wasn't paying much attention to him, though. He was too busy reveling in his brand-new independence.

An idea struck him right then and there. When he was done chewing, he smirked and leaned forward to face Vector. "So, Vector," he said, "If you really trust me to do stuff by myself, then...Can I drive your car?"

Vector snorted, reached up, and pushed Charmy's helmet so that the front part slipped over his eyes. Charmy laughed. "Don't push your luck, kid!"

[maritoke]

Stargazing

Have a fanfic for @cuppajj 's Beast Ancients AU. This fic is basically this meme, except somewhere in the middle Salted Caramel starts to trauma dump (he warned Silverbell twice), and Silverbell silently has a crisis (unrelated to trauma dump, lmao).

Just a warning: there is talking about major wounds being inflicted, but it isn't anything graphic (but just to be sure). Also this thing was written mostly at ungodly hours when I should be sleeping, so yeah, might have some mistakes--

---------

This could be definitely counted as treason, oh dear witches…

Letting the soldier of the Silence Legion just go was one thing. The archer decided to show him mercy. Congrats. One dead man less.

But Silverbell was actively talking to him. Enjoying his company even. Specifically now.

Being not so far away from borders. Maybe ten meters at most from the silver forest. 

He didn't abandon his post as a knight. That would be stupid and wouldn't sit right with Silverbell. He had finished his shift. He should be back at the Kingdom and sleeping. That would be the most logical thing to do.

But it was his free time now. And he could do whatever he wanted, he didn’t have to be back at Silver Kingdom. Not yet, at least. It wasn’t suspicious yet. He knew when to go back. He could just tell them he preferred to be in the forest as of late.

“If it's making you so stressed you can go back. I'm not holding you hostage.”

The soldier's words snapped him out of his thoughts. He twitched his wings out of reflex.

Salted Caramel didn't even look at him as he spoke. He kept his eyes on the night sky. A rare sight with the forest growing so thick. The leaves blocked out all of the sky. Keeping everyone hidden for safety.

It was strange in a way. That a soldier of an enemy's army would enjoy something so simple. But it could be because of how much he was taught to fear the Silent Army. For all the correct reasons. Salted Caramel had told him on several occasions how unfortunate it is that they happened to be on opposite sides (thank you, Salted…).

Silverbell just looked back at the stars. There were just so many of them. Shining bright, making the darkness around them lighter. There were plenty of colors too. Not just white dots on black sky. A mix of light blue with navy, a few droplets of pink here and there. Some stars were even golden. And then there was a moon. A full moon in all its glory. Not outshined by the stars but looking even more beautiful with them around. 

“... I'm good, I can stay a bit.”

Silverbell finally answered as he lied down on the soft grass. He was a bit mesmerized by the night sky. It was a pity. That such a beautiful piece of nature was constantly hidden from him.

At this Salted Caramel let out a small chuckle. It was a rare sound. Silverbell didn't hear him laugh yet, although fae wasn't sure if he would ever witness such a thing. They both knew that the soldier was around the forest by his own choice. To honor those who had died long, long ago in a battle.

The knight would be leaving soon. And it seemed that he stayed around longer just to keep Silverbell company. He didn't know how to feel about it exactly… on one hand it was quite nice, to have someone to talk to. To someone who too was serving a beast loyally while feeling a disconnect towards the values and concepts they once held dear. To someone who too feels a stranger in their own home.

On the other hand, he knew that he was going to be a possible cause of Salted Caramel's punishment. The knight himself was unsure whether he would face any consequences for… stalling and if he did, then of what caliber it would be. The Silent Army had apparently a history of being… quite unpredictable even towards their own soldiers. Everyone would either be passive and there would be no punishment, or they would make an example out of a ‘renegade’.

… Well. At least they both would be renegades in that case.

“Glad to hear you a bit more relaxed than back in the forest.” Salted Caramel said.

“In the forest I was afraid of the Queen. And other faeries could've found us.”

“And they can't now?” This time Salted turned his head to face Silverbell. His unnatural yellow eye almost glowing in the darkness. 

Silverbell didn't answer the question. Just glanced at the knight next to him and looked back at the night sky. The archer didn't know how to answer, for he himself wasn't sure.

Faeries wouldn't go search for him, that he was certain. But Queen Lily? She never elaborated how her powers worked exactly. Keeping it a secret. The less faeries knew the less they had to fear apparently. He had experienced it only once when she had used her powers to take control over faeries.

It had felt awful. He hadn't felt like he belonged in his own skin.

She had used it only once. To check the extent of her abilities. She had been apologizing for it for a few days. Feeling awful for doing something sudden, without knowing how it would end…

She probably would do it again, if there was a need. Silverbell was simply happy that just one knight from Silent Legion wasn't enough of a threat. That is if she could sense Salted Caramel. Would she know that a knight of her direct enemy is around? Or did she not sense him because he was already dead?

He'd rather not think about it. Too many questions. Little to no answers. Just his imagination running wild, creating countless scenarios, each more grim than the previous. 

He moved again as his body shivered because of too many unpleasant thoughts. Grass underneath him ruffled softly as he shifted around. From the corner of his eye he could see Salted Caramel glancing at him.

“You can go back if you–”

“No,” Silverbell cut him off. 

He knew the knight meant well. That he wanted to reassure him he could go back to Faerie Kingdom. That he was free to go. That if he feared for their safety, then he maybe shouldn't take more risks.

But he wanted to stay there just a bit longer. Just a few more minutes. It was hard to return to places that no longer felt like home. Yet you were attached to them nonetheless. Or at least to the memories of them.

“I… I still have time. Don't have to go back yet…” He said with a small smile. His voice had a false confidence. For he himself wasn't entirely sure anymore how much time he had left. But he didn’t know when or if he would see Salted Caramel again. 

He didn't want for another person in his life to become only a memory. Not so soon, not so early. He wanted for this moment to last just a tad longer. If Silverbell would return so late it would be suspicious, Midnight Lily would give him the benefit of a doubt. She liked him enough to let it slide as just a one time occurrence. 

A part of him felt guilty. That he was lying to her and abusing her trust. That everytime if she asked he would just tell her there was just a mere traveler passing by. Hiding a member of Silent Legion, the servant of a very beast who was an original holder of Queen's soul jam.

And Silverbell slowly came to an awful realization. This couldn't be just counted as a treason. As if someone was trying to look on the bad side of things. No.

This was a treason.

Not just a simple misunderstanding. Not a complicated situation. No. Silverbell had had one job. Shoot any outsiders who are an active threat. And the moment an actual enemy had shown up – he had let him go.

Alright, he had shot him once. But when it hadn't worked? He should have kept shooting. He should have gone back to the Kingdom and sounded the alarm. Not had stood there, paralyzed in horror, watching how an arrow to the neck hadn’t killed his target. And definitely not had kept talking to him afterwards, when the soldier had awkwardly offered to give the arrow back.

Silverbell should feel shame. That a memory of their first encounter was now funny to him in retrospect. That it was something that would make him smile. And he did feel shame, but for an entirely different reason. Because he knew that if he happened to see Salted Caramel again in future (hopefully outside of the battlefield), he would still not report him. He would continue this masquerade of guilt and shame. 

So much for being a loyal silver knight, huh?

Meanwhile Salted Caramel kept observing his friend in worry. His brows furrowed when he heard Silverbell's tone. The distant and sad look on the faerie's face wasn't helping his case either. 

He glanced back at the forest, then at the archer again. He considered arguing for a moment. That he clearly felt nervous, and they shouldn't risk it. There was no shame in it.

But instead he kept silent. Simply nodded again. Letting go of whatever words he just wanted to use. It was better to just not speak up sometimes. Keep it as it is – a bit bad, or start a useless fight – make it even worse. Choice was easy.

And so he laid back at the ground. Gazing again at the glowing sky. Although not as calm as before. His expression was more… bitter? No, too strong of a word. Lackadaisical? Detached? That sounded more correct. 

Silverbell looked up at the sky too. Still finding it as beautiful as before. He smiled at it.

“Why did you want to go stargazing?” The Fae finally asked. 

It took the swordsman a few longer moments to answer. He didn't look away from the stars at all.

“I don't think you want to hear a blurry war story.”

Normally he would argue that of course he wanted to hear. He always liked to hear the songs of battles of the past. To hear older knights speak of how they served the kingdom, and how they protected it.

But he knew better than to say such things around Salted Caramel. It wasn't as if the man didn't want to tell him anything, for he had told him various stories of many battles and wars. But he was around for too long, and many of his memories were getting either blurry or mixed up. And there were of course the memories Salted Caramel avoided for obvious reasons. Memories many knights avoided. Memories that were just too painful to recall. 

Silverbell opened and closed his mouth. Trying to formulate a sentence, but failing. He wanted to bite a bullet and just ask. But there was fear of wording it wrong, of offending his friend on accident.

Salted Caramel shot a quick glance at him.

“I wasn't looking at the stars when I died, if that's what you think.”

The archer couldn't help but relax a bit. His tense frame loosening at his words. It was stupid of him to assume such morbid things. 

“Though I was close to dying.”

… Nevermind. 

Silverbell took a deep breath in and out. To steady himself for a question. To actually speak up. Don't leave it quiet. 

“... can you say more? I like hearing your stories.”

He wasn’t fully sure why it was so hard to say. He had prompted Salted Caramel to speak many times before. 

Actually no, scratch that. He knew why it was harder to say it. Because he wasn't asking about a story from a battle. He was asking about one of the moments his friend was the most vulnerable. He simply didn't know why he considered not asking at all. Given how important star watching was for Salted Caramel. 

The knight didn't answer him for what felt like a few minutes. Silverbell almost came to the conclusion that he simply wouldn’t be given a reply. A bit disappointing, but understandable. Not everyone would want to speak of moments when they almost died. Such moments were often recurring nightmares for many. And yet Salted Caramel spoke up.

“I think it was… at the beginning of Grand Cross’ corruption? Or in the middle of it… I can't say… I just know they were different… but not that different.”

It often took Silverbell a few short seconds to figure out when Salted Caramel was speaking about the original beast cookies. As he often tended to use their former titles. Be it from respect or out of habit. Although, one could argue that Silent Salt could still be called ‘Grand Cross’. As it was not a title given because of their previous virtue, but because of how hierarchy in chivalry worked. And Silent Salt was of course at the very top of it.

“We were sent out to fight off the Giant Gravel Jelly Worms… They were a threat to one of the cities I think… and normally it would not be a problem, even if they were fully grown but uh… two or three are… let's say manageable.” He paused for a moment. “Six of them are a rather big issue.”

“How did those worms look?”

Silverbell could see a grimace on Salted Caramel's face. His body wincing for a moment.

“... maybe as big redwood trees? Maybe a tad smaller?”

Silverbell just stared at him blankly. Trying to convey without words how little it narrowed it down. These trees grew fast and tall. They could grow up to over one hundred meters with enough time. He doubted that Giant Gravel Jelly Worms could get that big. Although, maybe they could. Maybe they could and Silverbell was underestimating it. 

“Listen, they were just enormous, okay? Bigger than I had thought possible back then,” knight said in his own defense. A tiny note of frustration in his voice.

“Regardless…” he continued. “They had a body covered with strong scales, and a bunch of sharp spikes on each segment of their bodies. They could spin them. I think it normally helped them move around while digging in the ground? But at the surface it was as lethal as a newly sharpened sword. A sword made out of a very strong mix of metals.”

A pause again. A longer one. This one lasted maybe two minutes. Maybe a bit longer. Salted Caramel put a hand on his stomach. Soon however he tensed up again. Making a fist, trying to grasp something. As if he could dig into his own body and just rip his insides out.

Silverbell was about to tell him that he didn't have to continue. Because it clearly made him relive some absolutely nasty memories. The story wasn't worth it if it was putting him through such things. But before he could even say anything, Salted Caramel continued:

“With six of such monsters the battle lasted long until it was well into the night.” Silverbell could hear Salted Caramel rush a bit. Trying to get to the main point faster. “I got cut by one of the spikes. It dug deep. From my stomach almost up to my chest. A miracle it didn’t slice me in half.”

Silverbell couldn't help but hiss at description. He felt a knot in his stomach. He couldn’t imagine how much pain it must have been. Such a big injury. If one had looked down they would have seen their own organs… a very gruesome image, even more that it had happened. 

And yet Salted Caramel seemed to relax a tad bit. Faerie assumed that the worst part of the story was behind them now. The moment of when the wound had been inflicted. 

“After that I fell to the ground because I couldn't stand anymore, of course. I was bleeding out so much, I was terrified I would die.” The knight let out a dry chuckle. Finding the past a bit ironic given his current situation. “After… a rather big blood loss I didn't have energy to panic anymore. And then I realized that I was looking at the stars.”

Salted Caramel finally relaxed the fingers in his hand. Lying it again flat against his abdomen.

“And then I thought to myself… that it wasn’t the worst way to die. Despite the chaos happening around, despite it hurting so much… it would be a good death. To die in a battle with honor, able to look at the stars last time…”

There was new calmness to his voice now. A strange sense of melancholy mixed with hopefulness. It fitted him. It fitted him a lot.

“That's the main reason why stargazing is important to me.” Salted Caramel admitted. “It gives me solace. Especially now…”

“... why so?”

“... because I'm stuck here. We are stuck here. In probably the worst Era possible. But we did the best we could. We're trying our best still… and we still might just end up bloodied anyway… just one more corpse of another tired soldier…”

A pause. A deep breath in and out. To calm down. To gather thoughts. 

“But… There are things that are beautiful nonetheless. Things that were here before everything and will continue to be after… and we can enjoy them… even as we are dying there are things we can enjoy. Things that cannot be destroyed because it's just… impossible. I mean…”

Salted Caramel sat up. The metal plates of his armor quietly creaked due to sudden movement. He was now sitting on the grass with his legs crossed. 

“There are some things that just… can't be gone, right? I mean… Witches, I… give me a moment, I've lost my own point…”

Silverbell sat up too. Out of the corner of his eye he watched how Salted Caramel looked at the ground. Trying to get his thoughts back together. 

The archer hugged his legs and rested his head on his knees. He no longer observed the stars but his friend. 

He couldn’t see his face at the moment. He was partially covering it with his left hand. He used his right hand to play with his own long hair. Trying to regain focus and put his thoughts back together. Frustration he felt at himself was almost radiating. 

Silverbell only let out a soft sigh, his wings flexing a bit. It seemed that Salted Caramel hit his limit for tonight or even for this week.

The faerie loved talking with the knight. But Silent Legion had its name for a reason. Of course, the main reason was the fact it was one of if not the deadliest army recorded. Often winning battles before even a scream of their victims could arise. Ever the quiet death armored and armed, never leaving a sound. 

Another reason could be also because the very members themselves were apparently a quiet bunch. Salted Caramel included. He could easily remember how first their talks had been very one sided. Where it was mostly Silverbell talking at Salted Caramel than to him. Only the more time they'd spend the knight decided to start talking too. Still, he mostly spoke short sentences.

Therefore whenever Salted Caramel would tell a story, Silverbell would consider it a treat. Because even if it would take a while, it was nice to hear him talk. To hear him recall various battles or even just mundane situations that he remembered. Oftentimes speaking fondly of memories that could be sometimes very painful ones.

Because even now, when Salted Caramel had tensed up and grimaced various times while recalling the fight against the Giant Gravel Jelly Worms, he still finished it on a somewhat happy note. Despite the memory being mostly about a brutal battle and almost dying, it ended with him finding solace in that moment – regardless of what an outcome could have been. Peace even when the world around was dying, disappearing. 

“I think I know what you mean,” Silverbell said as he leaned onto Salted Caramel. 

The knight tensed up for just a moment. A short second of uncertainty before relaxing again. He shifted just a bit, to allow Silverbell for a more comfortable position. Despite being cold, Salted Caramel’s presence was a calming one.

And so they both continued to watch the stars. The eternal painting never to be erased or destroyed. Shining endlessly throughout all the years that had passed, and would continue to shine when the world was falling apart at the seams.

And regardless of the outcome. Regardless if there would be peace or wars, regardless if there would be thousands of cookies or if they all turned into nothingness or simple flour… stars would remain. For they were here before it all started, and would still be after everything ended.

It was strangely comforting. That even if everything was destroyed, there would be something that remained.

---------

So just to answer some things:

Why didn't Salted Caramel die if he was shot in the neck?

Salted Caramel is undead. He isn't revived. Think a spirit possessing its own corpse. He can be killed, but that would require either decapetion, or purification if you want to get rid off his soul (doesn't need to be Saint purification, Wind Archer would also do the job). That's also a reason why he is described as cold! He's cold because his body doesn't really need to maintain a body heat anymore! Ain't that convinient.

Why didn't they start fighting when Silverbell had first shot Salted Caramel?

If I shot someone in the neck, and they just stared at me confused, I would personally die right where I stood out of pure horror. Silverbell is braver and was just paralyzed by fear. Salted Caramel? He'd rather avoid fighting when he can, after all he was just going through the forest to go honor the fallen soldiers. So when he got shot he thought he must have tresspassed accidentaly, and felt awkward.

Are they meant to be platonic or romantic in this? (My own friend asked me this)

¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Honestly interpret them however you want, both interpretations are cool

[wheeboo]

eyes don't lie | jeon wonwoo

SYNOPSIS. in which you and wonwoo have a late night conversation. PAIRING. jeon wonwoo x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, comfort, lil angst if you think about it, best friends to lovers WARNINGS. conversations abt death, just 2 'besties' having deep talks :') WORD COUNT. 1.5k

notes: idk rlly know what this is and idk where i was going with it but i hope you enjoy lmao

"Do you think that when we die, we see black forever?"

You hear Wonwoo's phone shut off immediately at your question, and the silence that follows right after is almost suffocating, like you're holding your breath. You feel the bed dip right next to you𑁋probably from Wonwoo adjusting himself𑁋and then you feel the momentary contact of his arm against yours. He feels warm, like he always does.

Your brain is doing its runs, Wonwoo presumes, eyes gazing around your dimly-lit room before landing on you sprawled on the bed next to him, legs straight and eyes piercing up at the ceiling above. The only sounds he can hear is your synchronized breathing, the ticking of your clock on the wall, and the distant blare of car horns from the city outside.

You steal a glance at him, his silhouette barely visible in the moonlight filtering through the window. His forehead is creased, eyes shadowed in thought, nose crinkling for a brief second to rid of an itch. He's thinking about the question, and you swear you can visibly see the gears and cogs turning in his mind.

"Maybe," he finally says, voice barely a whisper. "Or maybe it's like that dreamless sleep we have at times. Nothingness, but not in a bad way. Just... a pause, I guess."

"A pause?" You lift a brow. "But wouldn't that be like... ceasing to exist?"

Wonwoo just shrugs, the movement barely discernible in the darkness. He shifts his body slightly, and maybe there's just a bit more space between you two because a sudden chill seems to course through you.

"Not exactly," he murmurs. "Think of it like a comma. It's not a full stop; it's a moment of quiet before the next chapter starts."

"The next chapter?"

He hesitates, then speaks cautiously, "It's... you know, like another life. We shed this skin, and become something else, somewhere else."

A hum leaves your lips, then a wave of silence washes over the room. It stretches for what feels like an eternity, and Wonwoo can't tell if you're lost in thought or waiting for him to elaborate. The moonlight pouring in from your bedroom window dances on the edges of the room, casting shadows that flicker like the thoughts swirling around you two.

"But... but don't get me wrong," Wonwoo adds, breaking the silence before it grows even longer. "It's not something to be scared of, I think. It's like... coming home. Finally understanding the story you've been living without even knowing the plot."

A quiet chuckle leaves your lips, soft as the rustle of leaves in a night breeze. It's a sound laced with both amusement and wonder, and it catches Wonwoo off-guard, sending a shiver down his spine, and maybe his heart to race a little faster too.

"What?" he asks, voice coming out a bit hoarse and deep.

"Just..." Your voice trails off, tracing patterns on your bedsheets below your fingers. "The way you put it. Coming home. It's comforting... somehow."

"Comforting?" he repeats, surprised. "Death usually doesn't get that label."

You snort, letting your body fully face him now. "I know. I just... I guess I'm a little scared. So I like to think that it's, um, different for everyone, you know? Like maybe... it's your favourite dream, or the most beautiful sunset you've ever seen, or a room with everyone you've ever loved. Or maybe..." You pause, unable to voice the thought twisting your gut. "...it's just nothing. Just darkness."

You watch as Wonwoo turns his body to face you fully, a soft, understanding smile playing on his lips. Your eyes drop down to his mouth for a second, a breath catching in your throat, before meeting his gaze. You've always admired how his eyes look, but there's something about it right now𑁋the way the lights catches them, like flecks of stardust scattered across the night sky𑁋that makes you feel so small.

Yet you also hate how it's so beautiful, like something you think you can look at forever, even though 'forever' is simply just a concept, isn't it?

So you really wish he can he can just freakin' close them𑁋

"Please don't look at me like that," You mutter aloud as you break the eye contact, feeling a sudden vulnerability run through you.

Wonwoo blinks, puzzled. "Huh? I'm just looking𑁋"

"You look at me like... like every𑁋actually, just forget about it." You suddenly sit up in bed, taking in a deep breath to calm your racing heart. "Forget everything I just said."

Your abrupt shift hangs heavy in the air, the unspoken words louder than any you'd spoken. Wonwoo's brows furrow as he sits himself up on your bed as well, a frown now etching across his features, his hand hovering in mid-air as if reaching out to you but unsure where to land.

"I... Did I say something wrong?" he asks, quietly and cautiously. Seriously, why does he have to exist? He's just looking at you, he's right, but the way he does it feels like he's seeing right through you, straight to the raw, exposed core of your fears and feelings. "I'm sorry if I did."

You shake your head. "No, you didn't. I-I'm sorry. I ruined the moment."

The air around you is thick with something unspoken, a lingering tension that hints at a conversation left unfinished. You can practically feel Wonwoo's gaze burning into the back of your neck, even though you can't bring yourself to look back at him. Your fingers play absentmindedly with the edge of your bedsheets, lips pursing together into a tight, straight line. You don't know where to go from here.

And then, Wonwoo takes a leap of faith. "Can you... tell me how I look at you?"

You feel yourself hesitate, the question catching you slightly off-guard, an unexpected flip of the script that leaves you momentarily speechless. It was like he'd plucked the very thought you wished he wouldn't voice: the one that made your throat constrict and your stomach flip. When you turn back to him, he's already looking at you, and you feel that vulnerable feeling again.

"It's like... I-I don't know. You just..." You begin, searching for the right words to say. "You look at me like you're telling me that everything's okay."

There's a dance of emotions that flicker on his face at your words, like he's trying to process everything and nothing at once.

"Oh," is all he mutters out, the single word hanging heavy in the air between you.

"Yeah, and I really hate you for that," You say heartedly, attempting to lighten the mood.

Wonwoo giggles nervously. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?"

"For... um, looking at you like𑁋"

"No, I'm sorry for falling for you," You confess, a half-smile playing on your lips. "I tried not to, but... I did."

For a moment, the only sound is the rhythmic click of the clock on your wall. You watch him closely, heart hammering against your ribs, waiting for some reaction, any reaction. You almost wish you could take it back, swallow it whole and pretend it never happened.

"And I guess that's why I'm scared," You continue on, knowing there's no going back now. "scared to lose this, to lose you, that something as inevitable as... you know, death, will take it all away."

"You're not going to lose me," Wonwoo reassures. "I'm right here."

A small, appreciative smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "You say that like you can control everything."

"I know I can't," he admits with a gentle chuckle. "but I can promise to be here for as long as possible."

A heartbeat passes, then another. Wonwoo swallows, his throat suddenly feeling dry from your locked gazes. There's that look in his eyes again, the one that sends butterflies to your stomach and makes your heart flutter so clumsily. You feel the heat crawling up your cheeks, because dammit you really could push him off the bed right now.

You let out a cough, face feeling hot. "Anyway, can you reject me so I can move on?"

A playful grin stretches across his face. It starts small, perhaps a hesitant curve at the corner of his lips, but it blossoms quickly like a sunrise chasing away the night.

"Reject you?" he questions in disbelief, peering at you as if you were crazy. "Why on earth would I do that?"

"Well," You start. "because it's the only way for me to get over you, obviously. Oh, and so I can stop tripping over my own feet every time you're around and move on."

Wonwoo throws his head back and laughs, the sounds coming deep within his chest. You would never get tired of his laugh. "And who said I wanted to reject you?"

It's your turn for the smile to your face to fade just slightly, mouth agape as if you're about to say something, but nothing comes out.

Wonwoo scoffs. "I like you too, you know. I was just waiting for you to figure it out."

Now it's your turn to blink in disbelief.

"You... like me?"

He just shrugs, but the curve to his lips remains.

"Maybe that's why I look at you the way I do," he tells you, the tips of his fingers brushing against yours on the bed. "because you make everything feel okay."

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9

[neonovember]

Oh. My. God. Oh my god but imagine though, waking up around 8 or 9 or so on a day off where both you and Carmy have the day free. It’s a big deal maybe because oh my god Carmen’s in bed at 9 in the morning *affectionate sarcasm* holy moly Carmen settle down!

But just waking up with him, the sun coming through the window through the thin curtains with a little breeze, looking over and watching Carmy’s face form into the softest, most precious smile, his eyelashes fanning his cheeks as he slowly comes to and lets out a little sigh “Morning” his voice is all husky from sleep and lack of use. You smile back with that sweet giddiness and relaxation in filling your body as you softly whisper good morning back to him. Watching him shift as he sits up to lean over and place a long, soft and slow and tender kiss over your lips, still with that little smile on his lips (I am about to exPLODE-)*CRYING!!!!!!*

okay okay, i know i wrote a drabble similar to this idea here, and for some reason my mind fell back to the night before..y'all, imagine the night that resulted in a soft, needy carmen spending the day in bed with you, all sore and a mess of slick and cum-

Midnight Cars

summary: You’re not about to fuck in the car park. So you end up fucking in the car park. Your apartment’s one at least. 

a/n: read @nolita-fairytale fic's about fiance!carmen, and god did that get my gears going. Her series is a mf masterpiece! Fiance Carmen is dirtyyy, even for Berzatto himself. There's public sex, I'm talking Carmen is knuckles deep in you swallowing you with praises whilst a few feet away from Auntie Susie, public. 

warnings; filth, utter FILTH, this is kind of insane even for me, car sex, public sex, fingering, dry humping, cowgirl (yeehuh!) but carmen's doing all the work, fiance!carmen, wrap it before you tap it lmao, 18+ explicit, feral and a little deranged carmen, possesive! carmen

The tangy burst of vermilion and cherry grasps your tongue as you tilt the rounded bowl of your drinking glass towards your lips, gliding your tongue to catch any wayward drops of the wine being poured by waiters dressed down in black and white. 

Your eyes don’t leave the dirty blond tresses that had long broken from their gelled back form through the night's progression sitting atop Carmen’s head. You can’t help the giggle you let out from your position against the bar, watching him join in a very drunk, but surprisingly harmonised rendition of “Ain't No Mountain High Enough" By Marvin Gates.

His tie sits undone around his neck, and his face is sort of flushed from the extended night, his cheeks a tinty rose and his lips turned red from his repetitive swipes of his tongue across them nervously.

All inhibitions are gone now, and you're able to indulge in the site of a carefree Carmen, left unaware of the never ending responsibilities he carried by the honey haze of a night just for him and his award winning restaurant. 

The low lights of the speakeasy room sets the air into a mellow haze, hints of cocoa and aged bourbon waft through the corners of the room, across half finished plates of food on tailored tables, and the stage where your Carmen had won the very award that now sits dangerously close to the edge of your table.

You knew the James Beard Association was prestigious, but god had they truly left you dumbfounded when you stepped into the low lights of the speakeasy.

You didn't even know places like this still existed. 

The speakeasy was tucked in a bricked alley, unassumingly between an Italian and a car park. You wouldn’t have ever guessed it to boast this attraction, with aged vintage black and white photos of late singers who’d sung on that very stage years ago hanging across the walls, polished dark exposed wood and velvet booth seats in corners surrounding round tables, even the parlour looked like it was out of an 80’s  bar house. You think if you shut your eyes and reached out you would have touched the sequence dress of Etta Jones.

Carmen didn't get drunk, not often anyways, and even now, after winning the prestige of “Chicago's Up and Coming Restaurant of the Decade”, he waved off every raise of a glass towards him.

Carmen felt a level of unease at even touching a drop of liquor whilst driving you both home, no, every fiber of his being screamed at him to keep you safe at all times, and the taste of bourbon held nothing against the taste of you. 

That didn’t stop him from enjoying himself, in fact he felt an unnatural sense of bubbly relaxation fall over him as his gaze fell towards you, sipping on a glass, looking the very bit the picture of gorgeous he’d ever seen. 

Carmen had always been horrible at these sorts of things, getting doted on, sucked up to, boasted to. He hated every second of it, but even he can attest to the absolute wonder of a night this has been. He glided you against the dance floor, under the iridescent glass panes of the skylight window, the soft crescent moonlight shining through in a way that bounced against the glitters of low hanging ambient lighting and shimmers of dresses and disco balls. 

The dance floor had been packed with family and friends but then? Then, it had felt like the entire world had stood still, it had felt like it was the both of you, infinitely, you in his arms like it was meant to be, forever.

And now you looked across to him, with those eyes, those fucking eyes of yours, comfortable in the vision of your gorgeous man looking at you under hooded lids, his bottom lip sunken into his mouth. The hint of a smirk tucks at the corner, and it takes everything in you not to jump at him then.

You motion with a manicured finger, and his eyes catch yours in a second, despite being in a group of people currently huddled around him, eager faces hanging onto his every word. He leaves them, in the middle of a mountain of questions they prodded at him, towards you, following your every desire, always, until the very end.

“I see congratulations are in order, Chef” You softly reply, when he makes it close enough that you take in the veins trailing up his forearm, left bare from his rolled up sleeves. The vision shoots straight to the heat building in your belly, and you have to press your drink to your lips to stop the bubbly moan from escaping.

Carmen looks down at you from his height, eyes trailing down the cut of your body hugging dress, lingering on your snug hips catching against the silky black fabric. 

He wanted to feel them beneath his hands as he took you.

“Oh yeah?” Carmen replies, his voice like silk fluttering across your body. Heady in that way it always is.

“Mhm, but I didn’t get to really say anything since you were busy with the rest of them” You don’t have to gesture for Carmen to know about the huddles of people crowding his every move. Another thing he disliked about these sorts of things, they took him away from you.

“Does my girl feel neglected?” 

“No” You draw out. “ I just want to show you how proud I am” You whisper through dark lashes. Carmen trails a tattooed fingers across your jaw, letting glide against the smooth skin until it bumps against your lips. Trailing your bottom lip fervently, his own pulled into his mouth.

“And how are you going to congratulate me hm?”

“That will just ruin the surprise, won’t it?”

Carmen let’s put a chuckle, before leaning into the crook of your neck

“Careful..you know I don’t like it when you keep things from me” 

You can’t help the shudder that crawls up your spine at his words, flashes of being bent over his desk, of being pushed onto your knees corrode your mind and you feel the burning ache travel to your core.

Carmen tilts his head, a hint of a smile on his lips as he watches you, eyes glinting in want.

“No? You’re not gonna tell me?” Carmen replies in a low voice, and as he trails his thick digits across the sides of your dress, bunching up the silk material.

He trails his thick digits across the bodice of your dress, his hands dipping into the spill of cleavage before trailing it to the sides of your dress, bunching up the silk material. Surely he’s not?

“Mhm” Carmen nods, eyes flickering to you, reading your mind as he takes you in appreciably. His pupils are blown out in lust, the familiar ceruleans dipping into a depth only reserved for you.

You let out a squeal when you feel Carmen’s fingers trail up the slit on your thigh, squeezing the naked flesh before tracing his fingers along the lace trim of your panties. You’re up against the bar, shielded by the low ambient lighting and Carmen’s huge back obscuring every manoeuvre of your body to his every desire.

“Carmen-“ You admonish, eyes darting across the room now filled with happily drunk family and friends dancing or laughing amongst each other.

However your admonishment is light hearted, it trails off into the air when you feel Carmen press against you, then, you don’t really care, you miss him too goddamn much to.

“Been watching you the entire night you know? When you were dancing with your friends, god I wanted to drag you from the floor and just take you in the fucking coat closet” Carmen muses, his lips brushing against the pulse point behind your ear. Your drink long forgotten on the bar counter, your hands now gripping his shoulders as you bite back a moan.

“Yeah, just thinking about wrapping these thighs around me and letting that pussy grip me for hours”

“You’d take it all, right honey? You’ll be my good girl?” Carmen grunts out softly

All you can let out is a half hearted nod, your eyes falling dangerously closed as Carmen prods and sucks against every sliver of skin he can get ahold of.

His deft thumb drags along the fabric of your undergarments, cupping your mound as you let out a sharp exhale, making approving noises as the slick that has begun to already begun to drench your panties.

“Already wet for me Darling?” Carm replies, the hint of mirth surrounding his voice doesn’t allude you, and if you didn’t want to keep chasing that sweet friction of Carmens thumb against your heat you would have shoved him.

“Please Carm” You exhale with a sharp breath, trying to grind your hips onto the palm of his hand. He strokes you softly, featherlight touches that barely feel like anything.

And this man, this goddamn man, laughs. A roll of a chuckle rolls through his body and you want to scream at the denial of the pleasures he's keeping from you, before his deep baritone voice replies.

“All you had to say was please”

His rough fingers sink into your heat, it’s silky, and rough and hits you like liquor, straight to the building pressure. He drags your slick through your folds, arching his fingers ever so slightly when he bumps up against your clit. Never fully putting any pressure on that precipice of pleasure you want to dive head first into.

Dipping a thick tattooed digit into your tight hole, Carmen lets out a groan at the way you grip him so tightly, masking your pitched moan at the feeling of him circling his thumb against your bundle of nerves and stretching you out with his thick digits.

Carmen is practically holding you up, his large bicep wrapped tightly around your waist as you sink your teeth into his shoulder, letting the skin absorb the litter of stuttered mewls you let out at the swipes of his thumb against your clit.

The coil begins to tighten, and you can faintly hear Carmen softly whisper sweet nothings, proclamations, declarations, praises. They fall from his mouth like honey and push you further up the cliff. 

“I know sweet girl, taking it so well, just keep taking it, let me make you feel good, yeah?”

A second finger joins the first, dragging your sopping slick up your folds, before dipping into your tight hole. Rough fingers massage up against your walls that grip him so tightly, Carmen knows your body inside and out, and it doesn't take long for him to find the soft spongy patch of skin deep within you, curling a third finger up into that spot, roughly thrusting into relentlessly. 

Carmen watches the way your pussy swallows his thick tattooed fingers, thrusting them out slicker and wetter each time, the image has his jaw and slacks tightening and it takes everything in him not to sink his entire length into against the bar counter, fuck whoever else.

Your hips buckle beneath him, and he grips you harder into his chest, his mouth presses bruising kisses along your neck, jaw, clavicle. Your heated moans fail to reside in you as you begin to cant your hips into his hands, rubbing your clit rapidly on the flat side of his palm. The coil tightens within you, and you roll your eyes back, letting out a bubbling of half syllabus, your brain a mush from the saccharine pleasure curling your toes.

“M’ fucking you dumb baby? You getting off so good on my fingers you can’t speak?” Carmen groans out, he can’t stop himself from canting his hips forward, his erection bumping into your stomach.

The feeling of him pressed and thrusting against you, outlined by his suit pants is a vision that breaks you entirely, and you can’t even blink before you feel the band snap, the delicious white hot burn spreading through you like a wildfire.

“Carmen..s-..gonna” You manage to let out with a breath, and Carmen knows already, of course he does. He’s knuckles deep in you now, and his relentless rutting is inescapable, you can fucking feel him in your bones, down to your goddamn marrow. He continues his rapid thrusts into you, refusing to relent, pushing you further, and further through the waves of your unending. 

Your head lulls back, but Carmen catches it with his arm, his mouth slatted over yours as you fail to keep in the loud yell of his name from your lips. 

Carmen swallows your stuttered mewls, your swears, your please, he swallows it all and keeps it for himself. His tongue darting across the inside of your mouth, swiping along the roof of your mouth, across your front teeth.

His fingers continue to thrust into you, helping you ride through the burst of colours and stars that light your vision beneath your lids. You're pushed up against his hard chest, and it takes some time for your limp body to come back to life, your head a daze of pleasure.

“S’fucken good girl”

Carmen mutters so softly, almost to himself, his fingers are still cupping your heart, whisper grazes of his thumb against your drenched folds. 

as he fixes your dress, smoothing the wrinkles formed, flickering his eyes to yours in a sweet smile.

Through hooded lids, you see a man approach you both, interrupting the heated gaze Carmen imprints down to your very bones. Carmen slinks his hand back, discreetly popping those deft digits into his mouth with a low groan, before wiping them on his suit pants. He carefully fixes your dress, smoothing the wrinkles formed, flickering his eyes to yours in a sweet smile as if he hadn’t just fucked you up into his knuckles, and goddamn tasted you. 

The scene causes a shudder to roll down your back, reigniting the heat deep inside you once again, you never thought you could be this depraved, this-, but the way he sinks into you so perfectly has you nodding to every desire he has. He was a goddamn drug.

Your body is still recovering from the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you feel Carmen's heated gaze on you as you try and coherently respond to the stubby man who’d interrupted you both. The man rambles on, clearly oblivious to your state, too focused on the sound of his own voice. You nod along to his words, something about a farmers market or an Indian restaurant that had opened, but you're jittering in your heels and you can barely stand, opting to lean against the bar counter. 

You look towards Carmen, to find him staring at you, amusement lighting his cerulean blues as he takes in your insatiability. Hell, it took him god near everything to not fling the man to the other side of the room so that he could probably taste you. 

Remind him again why he agreed to this?

It gets to maybe the second inception of an animated story before Carmen is bidding the man goodbye with a shake of a hand, and all you can do is swallow the desire that no doubt has you salivating by the second. God if Carmen had made you wait even one more minute you would have tugged on his shirt like some petulant child.

“Took you long enough” You murmur, when Carmen eases out into the speakeasy car park with a hand against the small of your back.

A soft laugh escapes Carmen, scratching at his jaw as he shakes his head. 

“If I didn’t already know, I would think you're the one that hates these things” Carmen murmurs with a teasing smile, as you make your way to the sleek black car that camouflages against the midnight.

You make a sound that sounds close to a snort, “Not when it keeps me from jumping my fiances bones” Your engagement ring seems to glisten at those words, and you don't miss the way Carmen’s eyes flash with a look of hunger, adoration, glee, even possession all mixed in one.

You’d been his since the moment he laid eyes on you, that was a given. Putting a ring on your finger just gave him something to latch onto, a mark that told the world you were finally his.

It anchored him, it made him feel good. It eased the anxieties that would flood his mind, washing them away like a current every time he kissed that damn princess cut.  

Carmen wasn’t exactly all that sentimental, but with you? God did he mutter till death do us part like it was tattooed onto his tongue. And even then, when he’s a zombified version of his human self, traveling the underworld soullessly he’d find you.

Oh were you Carmen’s, but wasn’t he yours too?

“Language sweetheart, you make me sound like a piece of meat” Carmen murmurs teasingly shuffling so that he’s leaning over your body pressed into the passenger seat door.

“Language? Your talking about modesty after you just-” Your cut off by Carmen's rough finger pressed against your lips

“Would be careful about what you're going to say next sweetheart” Carmen raps in a low voice, tracing his finger against your bottom lip, eyebrows furrowed as if the motion of his fingers brushed up against you was of utmost importance.

You gulp back the words you wanted to say, Carmen's blown out eyes flicker from yours to your lips, and you lift your head towards him. Carmen catches you with a hand wrapped around your jaw, pushing you further against him as he crashes his lips sweet against your own. Swiping against your bottom lip, dipping into the heat of your mouth as he groans against the taste of you.

“So sweet,” Carmen murmurs into the kiss, before pulling back. Amusement clouds over lust filled eyes at your immediate anger against his denial

“What about my surprise?” 

“You can’t really get to enjoy the full experience in a public car park on Michigan Ave” You whisper, suggestivity laces your tone as you feel the heat of embarrassment flood through you. You were not good at this stuff, and yet the sharp sound of Carmen’s soft groan causes you to lift your eyes up to meet him.

“Then what are we doing standing here?” Carmen replies with a growl, it erupts from his chest, and as you stare up at him, you finally take in the wolfish expression on his face. He look’s insatiable, goddamn animalistic as he eyes you carefully, a darkness that prods at his blues.

You let Carmen place you into the passenger seat, the resounding click of the seat belt the only sound in the stretch of silence between you both. A heaviness laces the air in the car as you ride home, a headiness, a lurking desire beneath the illuminating light of the console, and the flashing lights of Chicago sitting against tinted windows. 

Carmen spreads his thighs across the drivers seat leisurely, resting a hand on the steering wheel, whilst the other grips your thigh tightly. There's going to be a bruise there tomorrow, and you can't help but preen at the thought of his mark on you hours later.

You count the seconds that tick by as Carmen rolls into the basement garage of your shared apartment, parking silently as he cuts the engine and remains unmoving, except for his hand gripping your thigh which he squeezes periodically. 

Carmen cuts his gaze towards you, the wolfish expression that overtakes his features and turns him into a predator tells you all you need to know, but his eyes soften ever so slightly, almost telling you the next move is up to you.

Carmen doesn't need to hear the seat belt unclasping before he's tugging you on his lap with rough skillful hands. His erection pushed against the softness of your belly as groan out in blissed relief, Carmen can’t help himself, grinding his hips up into you frantically.

“Need” Carmen breathes out heavily “Need to feel you, need to be inside of you. Right now, right fucking now” Carmen groans.

There is a fumble of clothes being ripped and thrown into the backseat, and Carmen shifts the driver's seat to lean back a little. The position is unforgiving, your back is pressed against the wheel, and the space is too small, but strangely, it’s a tight proximity you crave, too long have you gone without the ecstasy of Carmen’s skin against yours.

You settle your thighs on either side of him, his deft fingers drawing soft circles across your hips, his pressing fervent kisses along your jaw causing you to fall into the crook of his neck.

“Please, sweetheart, let me feel you, let me see you, shh, it’s alright, let me feel you” Carmen hums into the heat of your skin, tasting your sweat with the flat of his tongue as he grips your hips gently.

You lift them, and with Carmen's help, you finally, after what felt like centuries, sink onto Carmen's length, the sobbing slick drenching your folds causing him to slip in easily, eliciting a breathless groan from him as he feels the heat of you wrap around you.

You can hardly breath, all you can feel, all you can taste and see is him, the delicious stretch that comes with the first sink into you is glorious, its fucking ineffable. The entirety of his length sinks into you to the hilt, and you feel every vein and ridge of him graze against your tight walls as you let out a strained whimper into Carmen's shoulder.

“ ‘S Fucking velvet, pussy grip’s like a goddamn vice every time sweetheart” Carmen praises, pressing kisses to your skin, his eyes shut as if he was memorising the feel of you, savouring it in his mind like it was the last time.  

Carmen always gave you a few moments to get comfortable around his thickness, but there was a neediness in the way he held you, like you would turn to dust if he let go, and the restraint he held earlier falls apart as makes that first thrust up into you without warning.

You cry out as the blanket of pleasure courses through you, your heart is in your throat, you can barely breath, and you throw your head back cause god don’t you want more.

You press your nails into his shoulder as you try to lift your hips, eyebrows furrowed at the feeling of pleasure that fills you with every inch of him that glides against your walls, your clit, your slick. You’re a mess, and Carmen tugs at your hips, sick of waiting, and thrusting into you mercilessly, maintaining an unforgiving pace as you quake above him.

“Take me so goddamn well, huh sugar? Doesn't my wife take my cock so well?’ Carmen grunts, his eyes watching the way his length sinks into you and leaves glistening with your slick. The sight nearly tears him into his undoing, nearly causing him to spurt into you, if only he had a damn polaroid.

Your head brushes against the roof of the car as Carmen pistons into you, his hands gripping your hips as he slams you onto his length, rutting into you as the velvet of your walls cling to him. It was like goddam silk wrapped around his length, the gooey slick of your arousal coating his every ridge, dripping down onto his balls and between the space where he’d thrust into you.

A litter of profanities fall from his mouth with every stuttered thrust of his hips, its uncontrolled, and Carmen shows no restraint, no signs of stopping as he chases the wet softness only you have, the decadent caramel, your natural addicting scent, the car fucking stinks of you, and it takes everything in Carmen not to rip you off him and drink from you like a fountain elixir.

His tip brushes against your cervix, thrusting impossibly deeper with every move of his hips, he changes his position, and it causes his length to brush up against that spot that causes stars to burst in your vision. You practically arch your back against him, lifting your hips up when you feel the white hot pleasure that drips down your back, exploding your senses.

“No no no, fucking take it” Carmen snarks, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you down deeper, further onto his length, till your filled to the brim, your slick gushing out of you.

A shudder rolls through you and the sound of Carmen's low voice, dipping into something untapped, something animalistic and merciless, something that would pull every drop of pleasure from you until you were a sobbing mess.

You roll your hips against his length, a shaking, stuttering mess of gurgling words and cries as you grind your clit against Carmen's length, whilst the girth of his thrust into the spongy spot within you that leaves you heaving.

The familiar burn of a coil tightens within you, and as Carmen presses a thumb against the swollen bundle of nerves, circling it softly. The contrast of his soft feather touches against your clit paired with his unforgiving pace thrusting into causes you to keen, arching your back against him as Carmen murmur below you fervently, like he's chanting something, worshipping every curve of your body.

“Open your eyes pretty girl” Carmen murmurs, the soft voice of his voice comes back, the rough demeanour falling away like dust as he takes in the signs of your closeness.

“Please Carmen” You beg, you don't know what for,  but it seems like everything from the pleading lilt of your voice. Give me everything Carmen, your love, your pleasure, your skin and bones.

“I know Baby, I know, let me see you yeah? Let me see those pretty eyes” Carmen prods gently

You squeeze your eyes open and the vision that finds you almost snaps the coil tightening deep within your gut, bellowing with heat and pleasure that sizzles below your skin like electricity.

Carmen lies beneath you, his cheeks red with heat and blushing desire, his eyebrows are furrowed, and below them, below them lie cerulean blues that glaze over in a daze, hooded lids with curls lashes that brush against cheekbones. It’s like he's in a trance, his pupils blown out in lust and something else as they watch the bounce of your chest against him each time you shealth yourself onto his thick, hard length.

White teeth pressed into reddened lips watch you eagerly, imprinting you into his mind forever, he wanted you like this always, taking every inch, screaming nothing but his name.

“Fucking gorgeous”

The lilt of his voice, grown husky and low from pleasure breaks something in you, and you aren’t able to warn him, before you arch your back impossibly, driving yourself roughly onto his hips as you get the wave of pleasure wash over you. Colours of vermilion, blue, of the wine you had drunk and Carmen's cologne burst under your lids, on your tongue, everywhere. Carmen groans loudly below you, thrusts growing sloppy as he ruts into you desperately, chasing his own release brought on by your own unending. 

Carmen barely controls the thrust of his hips into you, releasing spurts of thick cum, coating your walls endlessly. His arm wraps tightly around your waist, making you take everything he gives you, forcing you into the whirlwind of ecstasy and base desire you can’t escape from.

You both temporarily forgot about where you both are in that instance, the pleasure from the both of you transports you somewhere boneless, and for a second you feel your heart stop, the  wave of pleasure that crashes over you as Carmen continues rutting into you, lengthening the wave as long as possible until you feel it swallow you both whole.

It’s somewhere between a few minutes to a few hours when you resurface, you don't know, your mind is a mess of sound and colour and the ecstatic aftershock of pleasure that still runs through you. You're nestled into Carmen’s chest, the scent of your coupling thick in the air, your thighs and the leather seat are covered with your combined slick.

The only sound between you both is your heavy breathing, you still nestled up to the hilt of Carmen, and when you slightly shift your hips Carmen shoots out a hand to stop you.

“Easy there sweetheart” Carmen replies in tight constraint, over stimulation washing over you both as the buzz of pleasure still hasn't quite dissipated.

“S-sorry” You reply, breathlessly, lifting your head tiredly to catch the soft gaze of Carmen watching you. His hands glide across your naked frame, pressing soft circles, shushing and smoothing out every shudder and shake of your legs. Carmen doesn't tell you the thought of you visibly shaking from him and he only causes his length to stiffen and his mind to reel.

“So..where’s my present?” Carmen’s teasing voice re-emerges, his eyes crinkling as you swipe at him playfully.

“You’re still in me, dick” You reply with a roll of your eyes, falling back against the hardness of his chest

“Mhm, and I didn’t even get to taste you” Carmen murmurs, tracing his fingers along the curve of your waist, cupping your ass as you shudder from his words. There was a finality in it, and you don’t know if you’ll make it to the elevator before he fulfills that very desire.

The obscenity of it, you love it, only Carmen could make you this depraved. And god do you thank him for it.

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@kpopgirlbtssvt @rooster-bradshaws

[cakeandpudding1]

Hi, how are you today? Could I ask for some headcanons of Poseidon falling in love with a mermaid reader? but she is not in love with him, she wants to know the human world and marry a human she had seen on a boat (reference to Ariel from the little mermaid, perhaps). In the end she ends up marrying the human and leaving the ocean behind. Please and thank you! and by the way I would like to add that I love your writing, it is wonderful ♡

Of course ♥, this is...lmao😭 imagine his face 😭😭

♦ Poseidon × mermaid!reader ♦

How he'd react to you falling for...a euughh human. But I want to add a twist, just like in the little mermaid movie where Ariel loses her voice to get human legs? I hope you don't mind. 🙇‍♀️

° A mermaid sweetheart, and the tyrant of the ocean.°

° A mermaid sweetheart, and the tyrant of the ocean. °

- so to be fair, it is kinda his fault for being such an asshole to you. You were just praising him for how cool he was, and he just coldly shrugged you off.

- thinking back to it, okay, maybe it kinda was his fault. He's not very good with that type of communication, he's not the guy to talk to when you're feeling all happy and giddy or whatever.

- but now that he liked you? Wow. He won't admit it, but it's very obvious to all the fishes and creatures within the range of sight—that he has a big soft spot for you. YOU, a little mermaid who spends most of her free time swimming around, looking for cute pretty trinkets and things that sunk down to the ocean floor. And maybe also looking for a prince charming.

- he didn't realize it before it was too late. When you fell for a young man on a boat, sailing across the sea. You fell deeply in love with him, even trying to crawl up a rock to see him, to see his face and what it was like up there.

- you made a deal with a sea witch, who offered to give you human legs of you traded your voice, which was a bit suspicious. But hey! You wanted him, right? So you took it, dreaming of a new life with your prince charming.

- Poseidon had overheard about it through the grapevine, hearing about how a mermaid was able to live on land after making deals with a sea witch. This quickly ended in poseidon ordering the servant to get further information, since something in his gut told him to look into it further.

- and so, he found out. He found out you got married to a human, left the ocean and even going as far as trading your own voice to get human legs. You're trying to tell him he won't be able to see you swimming with that beautiful tail he's always had his eyes on?

He. Was. Pissed.

- he killed the sea witch, taking back the necklace that stored your voice. A voice that was meant for ONLY HIM to hear and listen to. It was all so sudden, your legs started to transform back into your tail, making you look at your beloved, who watched in horror.

- you quickly ran back to the deck, crying as the thunder rumbled and the sea roaring. The last thing you remember is a big earthquake, as well as a huge tsunami, swallowing the place whole and drowning all life forms into its waters.

- so yeah, he killed your significant other. Mans is not called a tyrant for nothing.

- you really thought he's the type to be like "as long as you're happy"? I'm sorry to break it to you...but..this is Poseidon we're talking about. It's not about who's happy, as long as he gets what he wants in the end.

- he'll make sure there's an indoor pool of water in his palace, forcing you there to stay. Or maybe just trap you in Atlantis to roam the ruins, to remind you of how your prince charming's palace will look like it soon.

- you may or may not end up developing stolkholm syndrome, but either way, you'll still be his wife. His alone, his forever. If you guys need to breed, he'll just have some other sea witch give you human legs, WITHOUT paying a price. They'll have their body cut in half if they ever try to take anything in return. Once breeding time is over, he'll have you turned back into a mermaid.

- I actually think that he rather have you wearing nothing on your top. He likes it better if you just have your whole chest out for him to see and look at. He can decorate you with jewelry and other Accessories too. Make sure you look pretty for him.

- you guys would probably have around 4-5 or maybe 8 kids if you both are really feeling it. He can make that shi happen until you can't birth any more out.

- he'll keep you hidden from the world,any single mention of you will quickly be silenced with a glare from him. He rather not share.

- no, you won't call him by his name like you're somewhat his buddy or something. You need to call him "lord Poseidon". It arouses him better, and because he likes to remember the hold he has on you.

- believe me, when he needs to go to a meeting in Valhalla or something, servants there gotta prepare a big tank full of water. Cus he's bringing you with him. You better be thankful he's even letting you see the outside world, because it's not very often that he lets you out like this.

- he's so moody and does not let the littlest thing slide. They got you the wrong type of water in your tank? They will die on the spot. It could be as little as putting a little decorative item in the tank that might hurt you, or not making the tank pretty enough for you.

- whatever it is, anyone who dissapoints will be sliced.

- you are a pampered little queen, getting such good treatment from everyone and everything within your range. So best if you don't ask, and just deal with it. Cus angering him is not worth it. I'm serious.