#she's holding maple syrup

[gatoburr0]

supa!

[vampiefemme]

a lil summertime blurb for y'all <3

18+ only! minors dni.

Summer is easily your favorite time of year in Jackson. The sky is a constant, brilliant blue, stretching out for miles in every direction, only interrupted by the craggy peaks of the still-snowcapped mountains in the distance. The air is sweet with the scent of wildflowers and drifting pollen, and the trees and hip-high grass in the fields is the prettiest shade of green, leaves whooshing with every gust of wind. This kind of weather makes you look forward to going out on patrol - it’s a task you dread in the winter, a permanent scowl fixed on your face when you’re forced to brave the bitter cold. But when it’s warm outside like today? You’re practically itching to mount your horse and bathe in the endless sunrays.

And, even better, Ellie’s your patrol partner today. 

You’re clad in a faded pair of jeans and a cutoff tank top, your scuffed boots knocking gently against the sides of your horse as you follow Ellie through the woods. Your skin is warm from the sun, and each time there’s a break in the trees, you tilt your head toward the sky to let the sunshine melt over you. 

Ellie catches you in the act, eyes shut, facial expression likely one of pure ecstasy - she can’t help the laugh that bursts from her lips. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Ellie asks, biting at the inside of her cheek to hold back a grin. She watches you open your eyes, dazed for a second before you process what she’d said. You let out a laugh of your own.

“Can you tell?” 

“A little,” Ellie says, shrugging. “You’re like a lizard on a warm rock right now.”

You snort. “A lizard?”

The path broadens out enough for you to bring your horse up beside Ellie’s, the soft padding of the hooves on the soil a constant, calming background noise. 

“Hey, lizards are cute,” Ellie says with a faint smile. “And they like the sun. You’re cute and you like the sun, so…”

“You trying to flirt with me?” You mean to give her a hard time, to poke fun at her strange way of complimenting you, but it’s working. Your heart flutters in your chest. 

Ellie catches your eye, still smiling. “Maybe. What if I am?”

You turn your gaze back to the path ahead, fingers toying with the reigns in your hands. You can’t even pretend the suggestive tone of Ellie’s voice isn’t doing something to you.

“I’d say we should stop for a minute,” you tell her, “I think we could use a break - you know, to enjoy the weather.”

“Right,” Ellie affirms. She looks over at you, and your eyes are already on her, your gaze heavy with want. Something similar flashes in her eyes. “To enjoy the weather.”

Ellie can’t fucking believe the lizard comment worked.

It only takes a few moments to find a good place to stop - the forest is full of meadows and grassy alcoves, perfect places to let the horses graze while you and Ellie wander through the vegetation for a spot to, er, enjoy the weather. When you finally do, Ellie’s hands are on you as if drawn in by some kind of magnetic force. Her calloused palms find every inch of exposed skin she can touch: your arms, your hips, your satin-smooth neck. She slips her hands under your tank top, fingertips sending shivers up your spine as she leans in to bring her lips to yours.

You could never get tired of the way Ellie tastes - she’s addictive. Her lips are soft and smooth against yours, her taste just as tantalizing as every time before this; there’s remnants of coffee and maple syrup from this morning’s breakfast, but beneath that is a flavor distinctly her. You couldn’t put it into words even if you tried… And you’ve tried.

With only Ellie’s flannel spread out on the grass as a blanket, you lie down beneath her - but not before you’ve undressed one another, peeling layers of sweat-damp clothing from your skin, breaking between hungry kisses and shuddering breaths. Ellie’s cheeks are even more freckled in the summer, and you find freckles elsewhere, too, scattered over her shoulders and arms from long days spent in the sun. She breaks out into goosebumps when you trail kisses over her sunkissed skin, your hand slipping between her legs to find the wetness soaking her bush.

“So wet,” you murmur in awe, fingers venturing further. Ellie just moans, soft and sweet, hips canting forward as if to beg for more.

She straddles your waist to spread herself further apart for your wandering hands, your fingers dragging through her slick - you can smell her like this, sweet as honeysuckle in the summer breeze. Ellie murmurs your name like it’s a plea, and you shush her before you slip your middle finger into her silken walls. Here’s another sensation you’ll never get over: the way Ellie feels from the inside. Warm, soft, tight, and absolutely soaked. She throbs around your finger as you slide in up to the knuckle, curling your finger to brush against her sweet spot. She takes in a ragged breath and nearly collapses over you, catching herself with both palms against the grass. 

“Fuck,” she hisses. “That’s - you’re so good…”

Your palm grazes against her clit as you sink another finger into Ellie’s heat, and though her bangs have fallen to obscure some of her face, you can still see the way her eyes roll back at every sensation; the way her brows knit together when your fingers graze her insides just right.

“Doing so well for me,” you coo, voice syrupy. “Such a good girl, Ellie.”

Your voice only pushes her closer to an orgasm, her hips thrusting to rub her clit against your palm. You’re sure your fingers are pruning by now from how wet she is - you can’t wait to lick off the remnants. In the meantime, you focus on pumping your fingers inside her, fingers crooked just right. Ellie’s moans become more fervent, more breathy, until you’re sure she’s going to burst - and she does. Your name leaves her lips amidst a string of incoherent curses, her cunt clamping around your fingers as she rides out her orgasm. When she throws her head back and moans, the sunlight glints on her exposed skin, which glows with a thin layer of sweat - a sight that takes your fucking breath away.

When the post-orgasm haze fades, Ellie latches her lips to yours, and you kiss until her hands start to wander your body again - the wetness at your center is hard to ignore. 

Ellie lets you bask in the sun with your thighs around her head, her mouth slick between your legs. You’re warm and dizzy with lust as you ride her face until you reach your own peak, letting her grip your hips and ass so strongly she’ll surely leave marks.

Another reason you love summer? You couldn’t have done this on a winter patrol.

[silverstar70]

Fandom: Criminal minds Character: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Author's note: English isn't my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

Summary: It's Hotch's birthday and after enjoying a family day, Y/N and Hotch celebrate alone.

Warnings: 🔞‼️ family day, fluff moment, established relationship, smut, vaginal sex, consensual sex, oral sex

Word count: 5,522k Hope you like it and let me know what you think! Enjoy it!

Happy birthday, Aaron

The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Y/N stirred in bed; her body curled comfortably beneath the covers. Next to her, Aaron lay sleeping, his strong frame relaxed and peaceful. Today was his birthday, and she had plans to make it special.

As she began to wake, Y/N felt a gentle tug at the edge of the blanket. Glancing down, she found Jack peeking over the bed with sleepy eyes. His small hand gripped the fabric, and he wore a mischievous smile that reminded her so much of his father.

“Y/N,” he whispered, barely above a hush. “Can we make pancakes for dad?”

A smile spread across her face at his enthusiasm. “Blueberry pancakes?” she asked, her voice laced with sleepiness.

Jack nodded vigorously, his curly hair bouncing. “Yeah! Dad loves them!”

Y/N couldn't help but chuckle at his excitement. “Alright, but we have to be quiet. We don’t want to wake him up just yet, do we?”

“Nope!” Jack whispered back, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Carefully, Y/N slipped out of bed, trying not to disturb Aaron. She padded across the room, her bare feet barely making a sound on the hardwood floor.

They tiptoed to the kitchen, Jack leading the way. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection for the boy. He was a blend of Aaron—his strong jaw and deep-set eyes—but with an openness and energy all his own. She loved how he looked at her, as if she were already part of his family.

She knelt beside Jack, who was now fully awake and ready to start their mission.

“Okay, little chef, what do we need?” she asked, glancing toward the kitchen where the faint smell of coffee still lingered from the night before.

Jack grinned, his eyes lighting up with ideas. “Flour, sugar, eggs, blueberries... and maple syrup!”

“Right!” Y/N replied, playfully tousling his hair. “Let’s grab everything we need.”

Y/N pulled out the flour, sugar, and eggs while Jack clambered onto a stool to reach the blueberries in the fridge.

“Do you think Dad will be surprised?” he asked, opening the container and holding it up triumphantly.

“I think he will,” Y/N said, smiling as she watched him spill a few blueberries in his excitement. “Especially since we’re making his favorite breakfast.”

With the ingredients laid out on the counter, Y/N turned on the stove and began mixing the ingredients in a large bowl. Jack helped, adding the blueberries with careful precision.

“Y/N?” Jack said, his tone suddenly serious. “Do you think Dad is happy?”

The question caught her off guard. She paused, looking down at him. “Of course, Jack. You make him happy every day.”

Jack nodded, though his brow furrowed slightly. “I just want him to smile a lot today.”

Y/N’s heart melted. “He will, I promise.” She smiled, ruffling his hair once more.

With the batter mixed, Y/N poured it onto the hot griddle, the sizzling sound filling the kitchen. The sweet aroma of pancakes soon wafted through the air. Jack watched with wide eyes, mesmerized by the process.

“Look at them!” he exclaimed as the pancakes began to bubble. “They’re perfect!”

“They are!” Y/N said, winking at him as she flipped the pancakes.

Aaron lay awake in the bedroom, feeling the morning sun's warmth on his face. He turned to his side, expecting to find Y/N nestled next to him, but the spot was empty. A flicker of confusion crossed his mind.

He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. Glancing at the clock, he noted that it was later than usual, but not too late. Pushing the covers aside, he stood up, the wooden floor cool beneath his feet, and made his way to the kitchen, curious to find out where Y/N had gone.

Suddenly, Y/N and Jack heard footsteps approaching. The kid’s eyes went wide. “Uh-oh! He’s coming!”

The kitchen door swung open, and Aaron appeared. His hair was tousled, and he wore a t-shirt that hung fit on his frame. Y/N felt a shiver through her spine as she looked at the sight before her.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!”

“Good morning,” Hotch said still half asleep.

“Happy birthday, Dad!” Jack shouted, jumping off the stool and rushing to hug his father around the waist.

“Thank you, buddy,” Aaron said, leaning down to ruffle Jack’s hair affectionately. Then his gaze shifted to Y/N, and his expression softened. “What’s all this?”

“We made blueberry pancakes for your birthday!” Y/N said, her heart racing slightly under his warm gaze. “We wanted to surprise you.”

Aaron’s smile widened. “You didn’t have to do this, but I’m glad you did. This looks amazing.”

“I had a great assistant, right?” she said turning to Jack who was looking proudly at the pancakes they made. “Happy birthday, Aaron,” she said, her voice a gentle whisper filled with affection.

“Thank you,” he said with a low voice before leaning down and pressing his lips to hers.

The kiss was soft and sweet, filled with unspoken feelings and promises. Y/N melted against him as he deepened the kiss. It felt as if time stood still, the world around them fading into a distant blur.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and smiling, Jack’s voice broke the moment. “Ew, gross! You guys are being mushy!”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh as Aaron pulled away slightly, a teasing smile on his lips. After assembling the plates with three pancakes each, a few more blueberries and maple syrup, the three of them sat at the table and ate their breakfast between laughter and small talk.

“Alright, birthday boy,” Y/N said with a teasing smile as she finished tidying the kitchen. “What’s next on the agenda?”

“Well, I was thinking we could visit the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum. Jack’s been wanting to go for a while, and I thought today would be the perfect opportunity.” Aaron suggested as he was helping Y/N with the dishes.

Jack jumped up and down in excitement, his enthusiasm infectious. “Yes! I want to see the rockets and the planes!”

Y/N chuckled at Jack’s eagerness, her heart swelling with affection. “Then let’s go! It sounds like a fantastic plan.”

Once they arrived at the museum, Jack was immediately taken in by the sheer size and grandeur of the building. It was enormous, filled with soaring ceilings and grand exhibits that captured the eyes. The moment they stepped inside, Jack took off like a rocket, leaving Aaron and Y/N to share an amused glance.

“Catch up with him?” Y/N suggested, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Absolutely,” Aaron replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s make sure he doesn’t get lost in all the displays.”

They followed Jack through the entrance hall, Y/N felt Aaron’s arm wrap around her shoulder, pulling her closer. She leaned into him, her heart racing at the warmth of his embrace. She couldn’t help but notice the way Aaron seemed to relax as they wandered through the exhibits, his expression shifting from the serious demeanor he often wore at work to one filled with awe and wonder.

As they approached the first exhibit featuring the Wright Brothers’ plane, Jack’s eyes widened. “Look, Dad! It’s the first plane ever!” he exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“That’s right, Jack. They changed the world with that invention.”

Y/N smiled, watching the two of them. There was something heartwarming about Aaron’s passion for sharing knowledge with his son. She felt grateful to be part of their lives, and to witness these beautiful moments they created together.

After a while, they moved deeper into the museum and spent the next hour wandering through exploring the various exhibits dedicated to space exploration. Jack was particularly fascinated by the displays of rockets and astronauts. He gazed up at the towering models, his mouth agape in amazement.

After exploring the rest of the museum, they made their way to the gift shop. Jack darted ahead, searching for a souvenir to remember the day. Y/N and Aaron walked closely together, their hands intertwined, enjoying the closeness.

“I really can’t thank you enough for today,” Aaron said, glancing down at her, his expression soft. “You’ve made this birthday one to remember.”

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart fluttering. “I’m just glad we could spend it together.”

As they entered the shop, Jack rushed back to them, holding a small model rocket. “Look what I found!” he exclaimed, bouncing on his heels.

“That’s awesome, buddy! How about we get it?” Aaron said, his pride for Jack shining through. “We can add it to our collection, right?” he asked, his voice warm and encouraging.

After purchasing the model, they made their way back outside, the sun high in the sky.

“Let’s take a picture to remember today,” she suggested, pulling out her phone.

“Sure!” Aaron agreed, positioning himself beside her and Jack. They stood close together, Aaron wrapping an arm around Y/N’s waist while Jack beamed with joy, holding up his new rocket.

With a click, the memory was captured. “Perfect,” Y/N said, reviewing the image before tucking her phone away.

“There’s a little café down the street—great sandwiches and even better views. What do you two think if we go eat something?” Aaron suggested as he looked over at Y/N and then at Jack, who was eyeing the model rocket he’d just gotten from the museum gift shop.

“Sounds perfect,” Y/N replied, slipping her hand into Aaron’s as they walked.

They made their way to the café, where they found a table near the window. From their spot, they could see the city framed by the brilliant fall colors of the trees outside. Jack climbed onto his chair, practically bouncing as he continued to chat about everything they’d seen at the museum, from the Apollo 11 module to the airplanes hanging from the ceiling.

Y/N’s hands found their way back to Aaron’s, their fingers intertwined naturally, in a perfect fit, and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. The food arrived, and they shared an array of sandwiches and salads.

When lunch was done, Jack perked up, his face lighting up with sudden inspiration. “Can we get ice cream now? Please?”

Aaron grinned, casting a look at Y/N. “What do you think? Are you up for it?”

Y/N laughed, wiping a playful smear of sauce from Jack’s cheek. “Yeah, sounds great.”

As they finished their ice cream, Aaron suggested a stroll through the nearby park to savor the beautiful afternoon. Jack immediately agreed, bouncing with excitement, and Y/N shared an enthusiastic smile, lacing her fingers with Aaron’s as they made their way down the winding path lined with vibrant autumn trees.

The park was alive with the soft rustling of leaves and the cheerful sounds of children playing nearby. Jack skipped ahead, occasionally dashing over to collect colorful leaves or pick up small pebbles, which he quickly showed to Aaron and Y/N with enthusiasm.

At one point, Aaron and Y/N sat on a bench while Jack was happily playing in the playground. Y/N leaned into Aaron’s shoulder, both of them watching him with fond smiles. Aaron placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, his hand squeezing hers softly.

“Thank you for today,” he murmured, his voice quiet and filled with gratitude.

Y/N looked up, meeting his gaze, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “It’s been perfect. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” she replied, reaching up to touch his cheek.

Aaron bent down, his lips capturing hers in a soft, lingering kiss. After a few more hours, they decided it was time to head home. The sun was beginning to dip low, casting golden hues over the park as they walked back to the car, Jack’s chatter filling the space around them.

*

After they had tucked Jack in and gently closed his door, Y/N turned to find Hotch standing quietly in the hallway, watching her with a soft look in his eyes. She stepped toward him, her voice dropping to a whisper to keep from waking Jack.

“So… it’s still your birthday,” she murmured, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she leaned against the door frame. “What do you wanna do, birthday boy?”

Hotch’s lips curved into a small smile as he closed the distance between them. Gently, he lifted his hands to cradle her face, his thumbs brushing lightly along her cheeks as he looked into her eyes with an intensity that made her breath catch. Without another word, he leaned down, pressing his lips softly to hers. The kiss was slow and warm at first but soon grew deeper, and more urgent.

Caught off guard, Y/N stumbled back slightly until her back pressed against the wall. She found herself pinned between the solid warmth of his body and the cool surface behind her, entirely enveloped by him. His hand slid down from her face, tracing her curves with a deliberate tenderness, and she felt his fingertips trail down her side, leaving a trail of electric sparks in their wake.

Every touch, every press of his lips ignited something fierce within her. Her fingers tangled in his short hair, pulling him closer as her body pressed against him, feeling the need that mirrored her own. Hotch's mouth moved to her neck, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin, sending shivers down her spine. When he kissed that one spot just below her ear, a soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips, and he grinned against her skin, clearly pleased with himself.

He loved knowing every inch of her, loved finding these secret places that made her shiver and melt against him. But even more, he loved being the one to bring this out of her, to draw these sounds from her that only he would ever hear.

Hotch’s hand moved down her body, coming to rest at her waist, his fingers splayed possessively over her hip as he pulled her even closer. His lips moved back up, capturing her mouth again, the kiss deepening, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the hallway. She felt her heart pounding as his hands explored, each touch igniting something new, something deeper.

Her hands roamed over his back, tracing the muscles beneath his green shirt, savoring the feel of his strength, the solidity of him. It was a rare thing to see Hotch like this—unguarded, open, entirely focused on her with a fire in his eyes that made her feel like the only person in the world.

Finally, they pulled apart just enough to catch their breath, their foreheads pressed together, breaths coming fast and mingling between them.

“Still my birthday?” he murmured, a faint smirk playing at his lips, his voice a deep, low rumble that sent shivers through her.

She smiled, breathless, her eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and mischief. “Technically…you’ve got a few more hours.” She trailed her fingers down his chest, feeling his heartbeat echoing her own rapid pulse.

“Good,” he whispered, his voice laced with a tender intensity. He leaned in again, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips before lifting her into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively, her arms around his shoulders as he carried her down the hallway, each step deliberate, savoring every second of this moment.

When they reached the bedroom, he set her down with care, and she slid out of his arms, still feeling the imprint of his touch. She stood before him, her gaze meeting his, a deep tenderness passing between them. The quiet around them felt intimate.

Y/N leaned forward to press a slower kiss to his lips. Her hands ran up his chest, her touch soft, reverent, as she unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it down his shoulders to reveal the defined lines of his torso beneath.

Her eyes lingered on him, admiring every detail—the contours of his muscles, the slight tension beneath his skin as he watched her, the subtle rise and fall of his chest. Then her gaze fell to the faint scars scattered over his torso, nine small reminders of his resilience, his strength as her fingers traced over them tenderly, committing every detail to memory.

Y/N lifted her head slightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she looked at him. “You know, I could make your birthday even better,” she teased, her voice low and sultry.

A slow grin spread across Hotch’s face as he caught her playful tone. “Oh really? And how would you do that?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear. “I could show you.”

Before he could respond, she started to work on his belt, unbuckling it and dropping it on the floor before unzipping his pants. She gave him a gentle push-back, guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed.

He watched her with that same intensity and dark eyes tracing her every move as she leaned in, pressing a kiss to his jaw, her hands drifted down his torso, savoring every inch.

Y/N could feel his tension, his anticipation as she began to kneel before him. With his help, she slid his pants and boxers down his legs. Her hands brushing over his skin made him shiver. Soon the rest of his clothes followed the belt and the shirt on the floor.

Y/N’s nails traced light patterns on his thighs, moving closer to where he craved the most. Her hands traveled up his inner thighs as he was already half-hard for her. Hotch sucked in a breath as she took him in her hand.  

His hand reached to brush over her hair, tangled in his fingers as he watched her with a mixture of desire and admiration. His other hand rested firmly on her shoulder, squeezing gently, and though

“Y/N,” he warned softly, holding back any sounds that might carry through the house.

She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with a playful challenge, and it sent a shiver of excitement coursing through him. “Be quiet,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “Jack is sleeping.”

Hotch’s heart raced as he felt her breath ghost over his skin, a soft teasing before the warmth of her mouth replaced it. As she took him in, his head fell back, a low groan escaping his lips despite his best efforts to stifle it.

The sensation was exquisite. Y/N’s mouth warm and inviting, drawing him deeper into pleasure. Her soft hair brushed against his skin, and he tangled his fingers in it, guiding her gently but firmly. “God, you’re incredible,” he breathed, struggling to keep his voice low as she expertly took him deeper.

Every flick of her tongue sent waves of heat through him, and he had to remind himself that they had to be quiet. Jack was sleeping and the house was silent except for his soft sounds and heavy breaths.

Hotch bit his lip, trying to hold back his noises, but the pleasure was becoming overwhelming. “Y/N,” he whispered, his voice strained. “Oh God…”

“Shh,” she teased, her mouth curling around him, and the vibrations sent another rush of pleasure coursing through him. She looked up, meeting his gaze, and the sight of her looking up at him, completely focused, was almost too much to bear.

“Just relax,” she whispered, and her tone was both playful and serious, urging him to let go. It was hard to resist her when she was so close when she was making him feel so good. Her mouth moved with an intoxicating rhythm, and he could feel himself teetering on the edge.

Hotch tried to concentrate, but every rational thought slipped away, replaced by the heat pooling in his stomach. The world outside faded even further as he surrendered to the sensations, her touch, her warmth, her taste, everything about her was exquisite.

He could feel the pressure building, his breaths coming faster, and he tried to hold back, to prolong the moment. But Y/N was relentless, drawing him closer and closer to the edge with each deliberate movement. “Y/N, I—” he managed to say, but the words caught in his throat.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, mischief dancing in her eyes. “What is it, birthday boy? Want me to stop?”

“No,” he breathed, shaking his head as he cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “Don’t stop. Just… please.”

With that, she dove back down, taking him in fully, and that was it. With a final moan, he let himself go, pleasure surging through him as he tried to stifle his voice, biting down on his lip to keep the sounds in check.

Her eyes sparkled with satisfaction as she pulled back, wiping her mouth playfully and looking entirely too pleased with herself. Hotch felt his face flush, both from the intensity of the moment and the thrill of being caught up in something so intimate.

He pulled her back up to him, kissing her deeply, tasting himself on her lips as their bodies melded together once more. She responded eagerly, her fingers threading through his hair as she pressed against him.

As they kissed, the warmth of the moment enveloped them, and Y/N felt a thrill course through her as she stood between Hotch's legs. She could see the desire flickering in his dark eyes, and it made her pulse race.

With a tender but firm touch, he lifted her shirt, exposing her chest to the cool air of the room. He leaned pressing gentle kisses across her torso. The sensation sent shivers through her, and she gasped softly, her fingers tangling in his hair as he worshipped her with his mouth, each kiss igniting fire across her skin.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured between kisses, his breath warm against her, and the sincerity in his voice sent another rush of heat coursing through her veins. The way he looked at her made her feel like the only person in the universe, and she loved every moment of it.

Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around her flipping her onto the mattress, catching her off guard. She landed softly, laughter bubbling up as she gazed up at him, her heart racing with excitement. His expression was a mix of hunger and admiration, and she couldn’t help but smile back at him, feeling exhilarated.

Hotch wasted no time as he settled above her, leaning down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both soft and powerful, his hands sliding down her sides, caressing her curves. His lips left a trail of heat that made her arch her back, wanting more of his touch, more of him. He took his time, exploring every inch, relishing in the way her body responded to him, the way she quivered beneath his mouth.

Hotch trailed his lips from her mouth down her jawline, kissing every sensitive spot he knew by heart. He worked his way down to her neck, where he nipped at her pulse point just enough to make her gasp. She could feel his grin against her skin, knowing he was deliberately taking his time, relishing the effect he had on her.

“You’ve had your fun,” he murmured his voice a low, rough whisper that sent a thrill through her. “Now it’s my turn.”

He kissed his way lower, between her breasts while he cupped them between his hands. His thumbs brushing over her nipples and pinching them sent shivers through her spine. He moved with such deliberate care as if she were something precious, something he cherished and wanted to savor.

His mouth moved lower, his lips pressing soft, lingering kisses along her stomach, stopping when he met the hem of her pants. He kept his eyes on her, watching her reactions, and the intensity of his gaze made her heart race even faster. The warmth of his breath against her skin made her arch involuntarily, her body responding to his touch like a magnet.

He paused, looking up at her with an almost reverent expression, his dark eyes catching hers. “Tell me if you need me to stop,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. His words were filled with the same care he always showed, the tenderness that went beyond simple attraction.

But there was nothing in her that wanted him to stop. Instead, she reached down, her hand tangling in his hair, silently urging him on. That was all the encouragement he needed. In one swift move, he discarded the last layers that were separating him and her core, which were soon added to the rest of their clothes.

He took his time, savoring the moment, kissing his way up her thigh making her squirm in anticipation, as he traced delicate patterns with his tongue, causing her to arch her back and let out a breathy sigh.

“Please, Aaron,” she urged her voice a sultry whisper, urging him on.

With a smirk, he continued, planting kisses along her thighs, teasing her as he drew closer to where she wanted him most. He loved the way she squirmed beneath him, every movement a testament to her growing desire. He could feel her anticipation, the way her body tensed and relaxed, a silent rhythm of need.

Finally, he pressed his mouth to her, and her body reacted instinctively, her back arching as she gasped at the sensation. The taste of her was intoxicating, and he lost himself in the moment, exploring her with fervor. He paid attention to her responses, his tongue dancing over her with a skill that made her squirm beneath him.

“Hotch, oh God,” she moaned, the sound echoing in the room, and he could barely contain his own need as he relished in the sounds she made. He knew he had to keep her quiet, the thrill of Jack sleeping just down the hall heightening every sensation.

“Shh,” he murmured against her skin, lifting his head for a moment to lock eyes with her, a teasing smile on his lips. “Remember, Jack is sleeping.”

She chuckled softly, her laughter laced with desire. With every flick of his tongue, he felt her body respond, her legs trembling as he pushed her closer to the edge.

Hotch’s confidence surged with each gasp that escaped her lips. He could feel the heat radiating off her, the way her body writhed beneath his touch urging him on. He was determined to bring her to the edge, to hear her call his name again as she lost herself in pleasure.

As the tension in her body built, he could sense the moment she teetered on the brink. He worked diligently, focusing on her sensitive spots, using the knowledge he’d gained from their intimate moments to push her further. Just when he thought he couldn’t wait any longer, she finally succumbed, her body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over her.

“Hotch! Oh, God!” she cried, her voice muffled as she pressed her face into the sheets, trying to stifle her sounds.

He continued, wanting to draw out every last moment, savoring her bliss as she fell apart beneath him. He could feel her tightening, her body shaking in response, and it fueled his desire even more. He worked her through her orgasm, savoring her release, his hands holding her steady as she rode the waves of pleasure.

When she calmed down, Hotch crawled back up to her, brushing a few strands of hair from her face, his gaze filled with warmth and satisfaction, and captured her lips in a passionate kiss.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his hand resting on her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin.

She nodded, still breathless, her eyes shining with affection. “More than okay,” she whispered, pulling him down to kiss her, her lips parting beneath his as she tasted the lingering traces of herself on him. The kiss was slow and deep, filled with the passion and comfort they’d found in each other.

But neither of them was ready for the night to end just yet. He positioned himself between her legs, pressing against her as their bodies aligned perfectly. He held her gaze, a silent question passing between them, and she nodded, her eyes filled with trust and eagerness. Hotch pushed into her slowly, feeling her warmth envelop him, her body accommodating him perfectly.

“God, Y/N,” he breathed, his voice thick with pleasure as he filled her completely. Her body was so responsive, and he savored the sensation of being so deeply connected to her. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper as her fingers dug into his back, urging him on. With each thrust, he felt the world fade away, leaving just the two of them, lost in the intimacy of the moment.

“More, Aaron,” she urged, her voice barely above a whisper. The hunger in her tone made him throb with desire, and he obeyed, increasing his pace, feeling her body respond eagerly to him. He moved in a steady rhythm, each thrust sending them both spiraling closer to ecstasy.

As he sank deeper into her, he captured her lips in a passionate kiss, feeling the heat between them rise. Their breaths mingled, quickening as their bodies moved in sync, a primal dance that seemed to transcend time. She moaned into his mouth, the sound vibrating against him, igniting something wild within.

Hotch pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, their depths reflecting the raw passion they shared. “You feel incredible,” he murmured, losing himself in the moment, his thrusts growing more urgent, more demanding. He could feel her tightening around him, drawing him deeper, and it fueled his desire even more.

“Please, don’t stop,” she gasped, her voice thick with longing, and he felt a surge of possessiveness wash over him. He wanted to give her everything, to make her feel cherished and adored, even during their passion.

With each thrust, he could feel their bodies glistening with sweat, the heat between them building to an almost unbearable level. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her hair, mingled with the warmth of their shared moment. Every sound she made, every whisper of his name, sent electric jolts through him.

“God, Y/N,” he murmured against her skin as he felt her clench around him.

That only pushed him further, and he thrust into her harder. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, and he reveled in the way her body responded to his every movement.

“Hotch,” she whispered, her voice thick with pleasure. “I’m close.”

“Me too,” he replied, his voice a low growl as he increased his pace, feeling the pressure build within him. They were both teetering on the edge, and he could sense the moment she reached that peak, her body trembling and tightening around him.

“Just a little more,” he urged, pushing them both higher as he thrust deeper. The heat of their bodies was nearly overwhelming, and he could feel the wave of pleasure crashing closer. She gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders, and he knew he was right there with her.

As they both soared into ecstasy, he captured her lips in a heated kiss, pouring everything he felt into that moment. Their bodies intertwined, lost in each other, the world outside forgotten as pleasure consumed them. The room echoed with their gasps, the tension snapping as they reached their climax together, an explosion of sensation that left them breathless.

Hotch collapsed beside her, pulling her close, their bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction. He kissed her temple, holding her tightly against him, feeling the warmth radiating between them. “Best birthday ever,” he murmured, a content smile spreading across his face.

Y/N snuggled against him, her breath still coming in soft pants, a satisfied smile gracing her lips. “Happy birthday, Aaron.”

As they lay tangled together, the room wrapped in silence, he looked at her, his fingers gently tracing circles on her bare shoulder. She rested her head against his chest, her breathing steady, calm, like she belonged there. Hotch leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“Thank you for today,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. “For everything.”

She looked up at him, her fingers tracing a gentle line along his jaw. “You deserve it.” The tenderness in her eyes, the warmth in her voice, made his heart swell.

As they drifted off to sleep, held in each other’s arms, he realized that this was everything he’d ever wanted and thought he could never have again. Someone to come home to and to love every day. And on that night, he knew she was the one.

Tag: @sweetbearcolorgarden

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (2 - Liar! Liar!)

Chapter Summary: You wake up one morning compelled to say the truth and nothing but the truth. Wanda seizes this opportunity to ensure everything remains under her control. Meanwhile, Jimmy and Darcy finally discover what happened to Agent Monica Rambeau. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3k+ | Chapter Tags: Manipulation

A/N: Billy is my favorite twin, if that isn't obvious already :P // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It doesn’t require a calendar to track the days here in Westview.

It's the kind of repetition that settles over suburban life, where dates fade into insignificance and days blur into a seamless loop, distinguishable only by the changing seasons. But even the current season—fall—is as predictable in its passage as ever, like storybook weather in its perfection. The birds are always chirping, the sun rises promptly at 6:40 every morning—never a minute early or a second late—and it never rains. Just endless clear skies, day after day, until the sun sets at five.

You've been chewing on this odd feeling ever since you and Wanda arrived in this part of New Jersey, but today, there's something extra. You can't pin it down, just that it's…there. Today feels different—more than usual—and you didn’t really get it until breakfast, when your mouth slipped past your usual tact with the kids.

“Mommy, do you like it?” Tommy asks, his eyes big and hopeful as he holds up a crayon drawing of what looks like the family standing outside a perfect little house. 

Perfect. Honestly, you’re getting pretty tired of everything being so perfect around here.

“It's...very colorful,” you start, the usual praise ready on your tongue, but what comes out instead is, “Though it's kind of all over the place, isn’t it? Maybe you could try to stay inside the lines a bit more.”

Speaking aloud is like sending an email: once it's out there, it's out there for good. Even so, an email would have been the better option. At least then, you could just hack into Tommy’s account—if he ever figures out how to set one up—and erase your blunder for good.

Could having a magical wife somehow save you from this mess?

It’s too late though. Tommy's face crumples, and Wanda doesn't seem keen on throwing you a lifeline, just a dirty look from across the table as you sip your morning coffee.

“But if you’re going for an abstract—” you start, but your son is already sulking off to his room. 

Billy digs into his cereal, blissfully unaware. Wanda, on the other hand, looks as if she's ready to rip open a portal to another realm and hurl you out of this one.

That can’t be good.

“You really upset him,” she says, arms crossing over her chest. “He was so proud of that drawing.”

“I know, I feel awful about it,” you groan, burying your face in your hands.  Seeing your genuine remorse, Wanda eases up, giving you a moment to stew in your guilt before she comes back to the table with a stack of pancakes.

“Here, eat up,” she says, setting them down in front of you.

You pick up your fork, cutting into the stack. They look perfect—golden brown, with the butter melting just right. You take a bite, and before you can stop yourself, the words are out.

“They're a bit dry,” you blurt out, instantly regretting your words. But once you start, you can't seem to stop. “And this maple syrup... it tastes kind of artificial.” 

Wanda gasps. “Excuse me?”

“Shit—”

“Language, Y/N!” she snaps, but it's too late, the curse is already out there, floating in the air like a bad smell. 

In the next moment, something strange happens—your lips tingle, and suddenly you can't feel your mouth. Alarmed, you touch your face, finding smooth skin where your lips should be. You try to protest, but only muffled noises emerge. Fear surges as you point frantically at your face. You attempt to scream, but no sound comes out.

Seeing your flustered pantomime, Wanda’s face goes from angry to horrified. With a wave of her hand, your mouth is back in its place, and you’re gasping, both of you staring at each other, not believing what just happened. Meanwhile, Billy is giggling, clapping his tiny hands together, and gleefully repeating the S-word you accidentally let slip earlier. 

You and Wanda just continue to stare at each other in shock, but then you glance at Billy, his innocent delight completely oblivious to the fact he’s saying something he shouldn’t, and you see the corners of Wanda’s mouth start to twitch. A moment later, she’s laughing unabashedly, and before you know it, you’re doing the same. 

Despite the peculiarities of your life here in Westview, you don't think you've ever been this content. Before Wanda, the idea of having your own family—your own kids, two no less—seemed unthinkable. You never imagined you'd have a wife, a house in a quiet suburb, or hear one of your sons swear for the first time. Westview is far from normal, but then again, so is your family. As you watch Wanda's laughter taper into soft giggles, you think it's impossible to love her any more than you already do.

Wanda made this all conceivable for you.

“Sorry, honey,” you say, though still a bit shaken by the ordeal. “I didn't mean to be so rude.”

Wanda looks even more remorseful than you feel—which makes sense, considering she did erase your mouth, however briefly.

“And I probably shouldn't have... you know, removed your mouth,” she murmurs, guiltily picking at her cuticles.

Admittedly, it was terrifying—one of the scariest experiences you've ever had. You certainly don't want a repeat. It makes you slightly wary of your wife, but your love for Wanda outweighs your fear. Standing beside one of the most powerful beings in the universe takes courage, and you've built up plenty over the years together. You're made for this—for her, for this kind of love.

“Apology accepted,” you say, mustering a weak smile.

Wanda's face floods with relief, then quickly contorts into worry. “What’s with you today?”

“I can't seem to lie,” you confess, realizing there's no easy way to skirt the truth. “I don't know what's happening, but I just can't stop saying exactly what's on my mind.”

She stares at you, confused and a little hurt. “What do you mean you can’t lie today? So, you’re usually lying?”

Before you can smooth that over, Billy looks up from his cereal, fixing you with that stern look that’s pure Wanda. “Mommy, lying is bad.”

Wanda’s gaze softens as she looks at Billy, then back at you, the seriousness returning. “Billy, why don’t you go brush your teeth and check on your brother? Your mommy and I need to talk for a little bit.”

“Okay, mama.”

Billy scampers off, and you feel your stature shrink under your wife's gaze, suddenly feeling every bit the child.

“What’s this about not being able to lie?” Wanda asks once it’s just the two of you.

You shake your head. “Look, it’s not that I usually lie, but today, I can’t even if I wanted to. It’s like a—a truth filter permanently switched off.”

Wanda takes a few moments to mull over your words. “Oh…” she starts, sounding half-convinced. “Maybe it’s stress,” she throws out after a beat. “You’ve been working really hard lately, haven’t you? Perhaps your mind is just overwhelmed and you need a mental day off.”

You had thought of that, but the whole situation seemed too weird for such a simple explanation. Then again, maybe seeing shadows where there aren't any is just another stress symptom. So you let it slide.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right. I’ll see if I can call in sick next week,” you mumble, trying to sound cheerful about the prospect of a break.

Wanda comes around the table and cups your face in her hands. You let her pinch your cheeks together, feeling both stubborn and a bit sorry for yourself. It's silly, but all you want is for Wanda to coddle you and make you feel better, not to dish out logical reasons for why you’re not yourself today. 

“Well, if you're stuck with the truth, let's have some fun with it,” Wanda says.

You swallow hard, aware that any question she might ask now would either please or upset her—and there seems to be no middle ground.

“Uhm, honey, I don’t think—”

“Do you love me?”

You smirk at her; that’s an easy one. “More than anything else.”

“Only me?”

You laugh at her silly follow-up. This reminds you of the early days of your courtship when Wanda was a bottomless well of need. You didn't mind at all, knowing she needed to hear it as often as you made her feel it. Initially, you were a bit bothered, wondering if your actions weren't speaking loudly enough for her to trust you. Eventually, it became less frequent, until the question turned into a statement—You love me—to which you responded with your own: You love me too. Since then, it quickly became how you say ‘I love you’ to each other.

“Only you. I'd sooner die than love someone else,” you confidently tell her.

Her smile in return is a beautiful riddle—a riddle you can’t figure out. 

“Wanda, I—”

“Do you like living here?”

“Sometimes.” The words slip out before you can think, and you're relieved to realize that your feelings about Westview are honestly not all negative. “It’s a nice town. Quiet and cheap.”

Wanda's face does something subtle. You can't quite read her reaction, but it's clear she has more questions when she doesn't park on your answer, instead moving on to something else. 

“Do you... do you remember how we got here?"

You blink at her. Initially, the question seems a bit absurd. But as you try to formulate a response, “Of course. We got married at…” you stall, your brain blanking on the when and where of your own wedding. “...then we moved into this house last…”

You try to pin down the date, but it slips through your mind like sand.

“Wanda?” A laugh escapes you, but there's a nervous edge to it. “Why can’t I remember any of the details?”

The last thing she says before flicking her wrist is, “Because you’re not supposed to.” But even that slips away, scrubbed clean from your memory by Wanda’s sweeping hand.

–

“Jimmy?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I found her.”

Jimmy hurried over to the tight corner of their camp where Darcy had practically set up shop for the past few days. Since the signals were first picked up, she's taken charge of monitoring the transmissions, her main focus being to locate Agent Monica Rambeau. They've already confirmed that many of Wanda's bizarre, sitcom-style characters are, in fact, real residents of Westview, somehow trapped inside whatever anomaly Wanda seems to be in the center of.

“That’s Monica, right?” Darcy points at the grainy image on the retro television set they've been using to watch the town's activities. The broadcasts come through at odd hours, which makes every second of surveillance crucial. 

Jimmy leans in closer, squinting at the screen where a woman bearing a striking resemblance to Monica appears. “It sure looks like her,” he confirms.

The woman onscreen is dressed in distinctly 70s fashion—a bold, patterned blouse with wide lapels tucked into high-waisted bell-bottoms. Her hair is styled in voluminous, bouncy curls that softly frame her face, completing the look that is so far removed from the S.W.O.R.D. uniform Jimmy last saw her in.

“I wonder what character she’s playing in the show…” Darcy muses.

A handful of nearby crew quietly look on as Monica steps out of a Hornet, a stack of papers clutched in her hand, and strides confidently toward one of those cookie-cutter houses lining the street—yours and Wanda's.

“Stay frosty, Monica,” Darcy mutters under her breath, staring unblinkingly at the screen as they watch her knock gently on the door.

It’s Wanda who greets her with a guarded smile. “Hello, can I help you?” she asks, sizing up the stranger on her doorstep.

“Hi, there. I’m Geraldine. You must be Wanda,” Monica says. Jimmy and Darcy exchange a look, both arriving at the same conclusion: whatever spell has ensnared the other residents, Monica appears to be under it too.

“Do I know you?” Wanda asks, her teeth gritted in what she hopes passes for a smile. But Wanda, she’s got a tell. It’s never hard to see when she’s faking it. The sitcom laugh track of this Westview tries to spin it as humor, but it’s clear to anyone—she’s not thrilled about Geraldine’s arrival at all.

“Oh, I’m sorry, has Y/N not mentioned who I am?” Geraldine asks mildly,  like she’s bringing up some small, casual detail—which, for Wanda, it isn’t.

“Honey, who's at the door?” Your voice drifts from the living room just before you step into view, crunching on an apple. When you spot the visitor, your face lights up with recognition, puzzling Wanda even more.

“Evening, ma'am,” Geraldine nods at you with a polite smile.

Wanda keeps darting glances between you and Geraldine, trying to piece together what's going on. And what’s frustrating her is you don’t seem privy at all to her disconcertment.

“I told you to just call me Y/N,” you admonish with a light grin. “What brings you here?”

“W-Who is she?” Wanda jumps in, keeping up her charade of a pleasant surprise.

“It’s Geraldine,” you tell Wanda, expecting her to recognize the name. Her blank, slightly annoyed expression forces you to jog your memory and that’s when it hits you that your wife has no idea what you’re talking about. “She’s my new assistant. Didn’t I tell you?” you say sheepishly.

“No, honey, you certainly did not,” Wanda replies, her smile stretched a bit too tight. She turns to Geraldine. “Aren’t offices usually closed by five?”

“They sure are, Wanda,” Geraldine replies cheerfully. It bothers Wanda how Geraldine uses ‘ma’am’ for you but casually drops her first name like they're old friends.

“So, why are you here?” Wanda asks, no longer bothering to hide her irritation.

“Oh, just dropping off some reports that Y/N needed to review tonight. Urgent stuff, you know?” Geraldine holds up the stack of papers in her hand as proof.

“Yikes,” Darcy winces at the tension practically leaking through the screen, feeling that deep cringe of secondhand embarrassment for Monica's obliviousness to Wanda's ire.

Fortunately for your assistant, you position yourself between her and Wanda, intercepting just as your wife’s temper begins to flare. You remember Wanda’s warm, almost syrupy kindness with Agnes when she first appeared, which only makes her sudden cold front toward Geraldine unreasonable.

“I completely forgot about those reports. Thanks for bringing them over, Geraldine,” you say, nudging her toward the exit. “See you Monday!”

Then, you close the door before she can add anything else, sparing both women from each other.

“So, why haven't you mentioned Geraldine before?” Wanda asks, not sparing another second to grill you about your new assistant.

You frown, thinking back. “I thought I did.”

Wanda looks at you for a long moment, her expression inscrutable. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you’re not telling me?” she demands, her eyes searching yours.

“Uh-oh, trouble in paradise,” Darcy sing-songs, stuffing a handful of popcorn into her mouth. Jimmy reaches over, trying to sneak a handful, but she swats him away.

You give her a lopsided smile, doing your best to charm your way out of the situation. The compulsive honesty from earlier isn't nagging at you anymore, but really, there's no need to sugarcoat anything in this case.

“Sounds like someone's a little jealous,” you tease lightly. And there it is again—that distant chorus of an audience, laughing on cue. You really need to talk to Wanda about this; it could be linked to all the experiments she's been doing with her powers.

Wanda barks out a forced laugh right into your smirking face. “Jealous? Me? There's no way I'm jealous of anyone, especially not Geraldine.”

“Then why did you look like you wanted to throw her out yourself when she showed up?”

Wanda's smile fades a tad, then she just shrugs. “Because she was interrupting our family dinner time. That's all.”

Normally, you'd draw this out until she admits she's jealous, but that could take all night. Right now, all you want is to kiss your beautiful wife, the only one you see. It's getting late, and not being able to touch her all day is driving you a little mad with want.

“Fine, you're not jealous,” you whisper, moving in, wrapping your arms around her waist. “Why would you be? You’re the prettiest, smartest, most amazing woman anyone could ask for.”

Wanda melts into you almost instantly. “You love me.”

“You love me too,” you say before leaning in to peck her lips. She hums happily against your lips, but just then, you hear the boys complaining about being hungry. Sharing a smile, you both head back to sort out dinner.

The episode ends, credits roll, and Darcy groans, tossing her head back. “No way. I need more of this,” she huffs, stabbing her finger at the screen. “They're perfect together. Shame Y/N’s supposedly dead. I hate spoilers.”

“She doesn’t look dead to me from here,” Jimmy says.

“My theory? That’s not actually her. I bet Wanda or someone did something to make a rando look like Y/N.”

“You think?”

Darcy nods. “With all the surreal stuff happening here? Yeah, I'd put money on it, dude.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Jimmy concedes. “Anyway, it’s a relief to see Agent Rambeau’s alive and kicking.”

“As Geraldine,” Darcy reminds him. “I wonder who chooses their names for them. Back to Y/N, what did that Howard guy have to say about Y/N being dead but so alive in Westview?”

“It’s Hayward,” Jimmy corrects her with a sigh. “He doesn’t seem interested in her or anyone else trapped inside. He’s more interested in the energy field surrounding the town.”

“And their boys?” Darcy adds, not listening to Jimmy’s rant. “We don’t have any public record of their true identities in Westview, right?”

Jimmy gives her a sidelong glance. “No records, no data. As far as Westview’s concerned, they just… appeared.”

“Typical,” she mutters, jotting down notes without looking away from the TV's static, hoping there’s a bonus episode or something.

But the screen stays blank, nothing but static for hours on end.

–

After hours of making love, Wanda lies next to you, watching you sleep. She’s used her powers on you before, but never here, never without your consent since you became a couple. Casting the hex was the easy part, the lying to you—not so much. Acting like she didn't know what was troubling you had hurt her more than she let on. 

She wanted to check if you were still happy here, still content, or if doubts were starting to creep in. And knowing you—the real you—you'd probably lie to Wanda just to keep her happy, just to ensure she has everything she wants. You've always prioritized her needs over your own, always stepping aside to let her shine. She wants the same for you, but you always manage to outdo her in every act of self-sacrifice.

When you started asking her about the exact dates of the wedding you thought you two actually had, it confirmed you still had no idea why you’re here, or what she’s done. She was relieved, honestly, because it meant she could stop forcing you to tell the truth, a spell she’d put on you out of desperation more than distrust.

She isn't sure how long this will last, just that it might be the most happiness she'll ever know, even if it's a delicate, fleeting kind. How did she even do this? Wanda doesn’t even know. It just happened—like a rose that has sprouted off a barren land. And now, despite having everything she's ever wanted, there’s always this nagging fear that it could all fall apart.

Quietly, she makes a promise to herself to fix things. She promises to you and her boys, she’ll find a way to make this life real, something that won’t just vanish like everything else she’s ever loved.

[dumpywrites]

Adrift - Min Yoongi / Suga

Prompt: He only comes to sleep with you and you accept because your heart allows you to.

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Angst (with happy ending), slight mentions of smut, friends to friends with benefits to lovers

Pairing: Yoongi x she/her reader

a/n: this was very very very lowkey inspired by real life situation, don't ask me lol

The joy of making breakfast, or not. Carefully plating the pancakes you made, drizzling them with maple syrup, adding some blueberries from the fridge. The sight of two delicious pancakes in two separate plates should not irritate you this much. The matching cups of drinks, one with milk in it, one with black coffee. 

Making food at ten in the morning should not be this grim, but here you were, holding yourself together just at the thought of the person who would soon join you at the table. 

The sound of the bathroom faucet turning off and the light button being pressed made you look. 

There he was. The man you were so madly in love with. His dreamy black locks wet, small droplets fell down on the floor and he for sure would get an earful for walking straight to the dining table while still dripping with water from his hair. Or maybe not, you were too busy ogling at his bare upper body, nothing you had never seen, but would always made your jaw drop. With a small towel in his hand and that one sweatpants that he always left on your place on purpose covering his lower body, he slowly made his way towards you.

“Pancakes again?”

“You better not complain.” You rolled your eyes, which earned a smirk from the guy. 

“I love pancakes.” He simply said, sitting down and putting the towel around his neck so the water from his hair would not drip down. “Especially yours.”

“Cause it’s free, just say it.” You rolled your eyes again and sat down across the guy who had a huge smirk on his face. 

The man simply shrugged and proceeded to take a bite of the food. Technically, he did not deny it. 

You both ate in silence. It had been somewhat accustomed to you. Instead of bantering and sharing stories when you hangout, breakfast was a peaceful moment for both of you. Although, little did he know, you mostly spent it with him occupying your mind. 

What started as a joke ended up as a habit for the past three months. This was definitely not what you had in mind when you said yes to his silly claim that he could make anyone release in mere three minutes. You were suppose to just see if you could crush his ego. One night he just showed up looking absolutely hotter than he usually did on your doorstep. One thing led to another, you ended up with his face right in between your thighs. 

It started with just him coming to you, and he would sometimes finger you in between watching Netflix, or eat you out as you laid your head back against your pink Squishmallow. To then you returning the favor under the desk as he work. Before you knew it, you two had started fucking each other’s brains out on the daily.

This was not suppose to happen. Yoongi was supposed to be one of your closest friends. You both came from the same circle and none of them knew yet about the odd thing that had been going on between the two of you. 

It was only natural to hide it. You both agreed that it’d be super awkward if the rest of the guys knew about your so-called experiment. Although it was hard to behave like how you would normally act, you both managed to hide it for the past few months. While you, managed to hide your feelings for him for a month and a half so far. 

Didn’t matter though. You knew Yoongi could never see you as a potential lover. He had told you multiple times how career driven he was and how he could barely take care of himself. Therefore, there was no room for romance in his life, and you respected that.

Today marked as your second week of trying to tell Yoongi to put an end to whatever the hell that was going on between you and him. It was getting unhealthy, especially for you. Either you told him your feelings and end on a sour note, or the option you preferred, just straight up telling him that you were not feeling it anymore. It sounded easier and simpler, you were sure he’d understand. 

You just needed to stop him at your front door before he started grabbing you and shower you with sloppy kisses. 

It was easier said than done when your heart literally was on his side. 

“Jin’s birthday’s next week.” Yoongi suddenly said, breaking your daydream. “Are you coming?”

“I don’t know… don’t really have anything fancy to wear.” You shrugged. 

“Just wear whatever you think looks pretty, it’s just Jin. I’m sure his family won’t mind.” 

“I still don’t get why he suddenly wants to celebrate his birthday at a five-star hotel.” 

“I heard he just got promoted and his pay is now doubled.” The man said after he sipped his coffee. 

“That explains it.” You rolled your eyes. “Well, lucky him? But I still don’t have anything to wear…” You sighed. 

“I like that one dress you wore in your Instagram story…”

“Huh?” Your head jerked up at the sentence. Yoongi’s eyes weren’t focused on yours though. “The backless one?”

“Yeah.” He said with a blank expression. 

“That’s too short! Yoongi, his parents are gonna be there, you know.” You complained. 

“Why did you wear it before then?”

“I was in Bali for a holiday.” You rolled your eyes. “I’ll just show up in a dress shirt or something…”

Yoongi just answered with his mouth turning like an upside-down U and shrugged. 

Fifteen minutes after finishing the food, you both washed the dishes together, before he left for some work calling.

Once again you were alone with your thoughts. In fact, you were left with your thoughts for a few days before a text popped up from him again, as what you had expected. It was already a habit. 

It was exactly two at night and a day before Jin’s birthday celebration. Yoongi had just came back from some afterparty you did not bother to ask. You would be stupid to just open your door and let him in at this point. And yes, you were in fact simply that stupid. 

“Hey.” The guy casually said, placing his shoes on your rack, where he already had a designated spot. 

“Hey you.” You replied monotonously. 

Raising one of his eyebrows at you, he crooked his head to the side. “Something happened?”

“I’m just in a somewhat of a bad mood.” 

“I can fix that.” He smirked. 

You smiled weakly at him, clearly not in the mood to talk about whatever that was clouding your mind. “Let me shower real quick, I just got back from my night jog.” 

A hand grabbed you by your left wrist. 

“I need to shower first…” You complained trying to wiggle out from his grasp. 

He pulled you slightly closer to him, leaving small space in between your standing bodies. “I don’t wanna have sex.”

You looked at him as if you had seen a ghost. “You don’t?!”

“Come on, sit down.” He pulled you even closer, now grabbing you by your forearm. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Noth—“

“Don’t even.” 

You sighed. “It’s fine…” 

“Your eyes are red.” 

You quickly shook your arm from him and wiped your eyes harshly. 

“Hey,” He grabbed both of your shoulders. “It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it. Let’s just sit down? I’ll be a silent cuddler.” 

If only he knew how his words made you wanna cry even more. 

“Come on…” 

He pulled you into a hug and you accidentally let out a sob. He soothingly rubbed your back before dragging you to the sofa. He helped you sit down and got up to turn on the tv, but quickly lowered down the volume. He knew how much you loved cuddling while watching something. Anything, even. He just did not know you enjoyed it so much mainly because it included him. 

“Yoongi, I stink.” You said through sniffles. 

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I hate you.” You let out a small giggle.

“Again, tell me something I don’t know.” 

Oh, if only it was that easy. You sighed. “It’s okay if I don’t talk about it, right?”

The man nodded. “I won’t die just because you won’t suck the soul out of my dick tonight.” 

“Yoongi!” You slapped his sides. 

He smiled, rubbing your shoulder gently. “Alright, I’ll shut up now.” 

And you overslept. You did not know at what specific time did he leave, but you were awaken by the sound of multiple notifications from your phone. It could only be your friends bombing you with texts about the upcoming surprise for Jin, no one else would be doing that to you on a Saturday morning. 

Yoongi’s grey sweater was barely wrapped around your body. It was funny how he refused to come inside your bedroom without your permission, even though he had been there countless of times. It was almost sweet even, and you smiled just by the thought of him going home without his sweater. 

“I’ll pick you up around 6?” Jimin’s private message said, followed by more notifications from a separate group dedicated to Jin’s surprise plan.

The idea was to surprise Jin in the middle of his party. You would all pretend to show up late and some already agreed to even give some convincing reasons for not coming. Since Hoseok had already contacted the hotel management to lend one of the backstage room, later, you would all suddenly appear right from behind the stage as he was about to give a toast, surprising him with a cake.

Halfway through reading the chat talking about the plan, a call interrupted you. 

“You awake?” You didn’t even get the chance to say hello. 

“You left your sweater.” 

“Your aircon’s pretty cold you know. I don’t want you to get sick.” 

“Yoongi, you can literally just wake me up though.” You chuckled. 

“Right.”

“Right.” You mirrored awkwardly. “By the way, Jimin’s picking me up tonight and I still don’t know what to wear.” You laughed. 

There was a second of silence before he replied. “There’s always that black dress…?” 

“I’ll raid my wardrobe and we’ll see. That’s my last option.” You chuckled. “By the way, why did you call?”

“Just wanna make sure you got up, that’s all.”

“Well, the group chat certainly was loud enough don’t worry.” You said. “I’ll see you?”

“Alright.” The guy said shortly before hanging up the call. 

Despite sounding rather cheerful when you answered the call, last night’s event was still filling up your mind. It was hard to pretend everything was alright when just by hearing his breathing made you feel stuffy. 

Sooner or later you needed to bring a stop to this situation. Clearly it was getting pretty toxic. Maybe loving him from afar was enough for you. Surely you could get over him in a few weeks, or months, maybe more. The point was, you would get over it. You hoped so. 

Jimin later arrived at your place at half past five, expecting to see you already ready with your hair and makeup. But plot twist, here you were, still struggling between your outfit options. Clothes were all over your bedroom bed and floor, not the prettiest sight.

“Bitch, didn’t I tell you we need to be early?!” Your friend looked at you and the whole apartment unit in disbelief. 

“I don’t know what to wear…” You said, slumping over your couch. 

“I’ve never seen you so stressed over an outfit.” Jimin folded his arms. 

“I should’ve bought a new dress if I knew I would look ugly in everything I own today!” You groaned. 

Your best friend just looked at you and studied your expression for a few minutes. 

“What?” You retorted at him. 

“Is this about Yoongi?”

“H-huh?!” You widened your eyes in shock. “What about him?”

“Girl, don’t act like he didn’t pinch your ass when we were hanging at Taehyung’s that one time.” 

You gasped in horror. “You saw?!!!”

“Me and Jungkook, yeah.” The guy shrugged casually.

You covered your face in embarrassment. “Of course you did.” You sighed into your palm. “Does everyone know?”

“I think Joon’s a little suspicious about it but he never brought it up again. Maybe just me and Jungkook for now.”

“Okay…” You exhaled. 

“So what’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing!” You exclaimed, rather loudly. “I’m going to break it off soon, I swear!”

“But why?!” Your friend walked and sat next to you, looking concerned. 

“Jimin, friends aren’t supposed to fuck each other.” You looked at your friend sternly. 

“Oh my god…” Was all the guy said in response. He appeared to be in shock.

“I also wasn’t supposed to fall in love with him like that…” You covered your face again. “I don’t know how to tell him or to break whatever the hell that is between us.”

Jimin looked at you sympathetically. “How long has this been going?”

“Three months or so.”

“I feel like such a bad friend for not confronting you about this sooner.” 

“Hey, I’m the one who did something I shouldn’t have in the first place…” Your voice start to shake again. 

“Don’t cry now…” He hugged you. “Come on, I’ll help you sort this out, I promise. But we can’t do this with you looking not-so hot.”

You wiped your tears harshly. “Okay, help me then.”

“First, missy, we get up.” He helped you up and you broke into a smile. “And we pick a damn dress. Show me your options.”

“You know…” You bit your lips, fidgeting your fingers. “There’s this dress that Yoongi’s been telling me to wear…”

“That’s it! Show me.” Your friend beamed in excitement. 

“But it’s too short…” You said as you walked to grab the dress to show him. “Look, it could barely cover my butt.”

“Do you have stockings?” Jimin eyed the dress up and down.

“Well, yeah?” 

“Then let’s wear that.” He took the dress from your hand. “Go, grab those stockings! Oh, and do you have any red panties?”

“Jimin!” You whined. 

“Hey, if we wanna make him fall head over his heels, we gotta go all out!!!” Your friend laughed. 

And that was how you wound up wearing that infamous dress, with a sheer stockings underneath, and a leather jacket quickly borrowed from your friend who conveniently had one in his car. The platformed Mary Janes that you rarely wore finally got their chance to shine. 

When you and Jimin arrived at the meeting spot, everyone was already there. Everyone including the guy you wished would stop staring at you ever since you entered the function. 

You knew you were right on telling him to grow out his hair. The combination with the suit? You were weak in the knees. Did he really have to sleek his hair back every couple of second? You were slowly losing your sanity. If it were not for the fact that your friends were literally in the room with you, you would probably jump at him the very chance you can. 

“Do you wanna hold the cake?” Taehyung said, looking at your direction. 

“Huh? Why me?” You pointed at yourself. “I don’t wanna hold a huge cake that looks like a dead tuna.” You eyed the hilarious looking cake. 

“Dunno, you look hot tonight.” Taehyung shrugged playfully. 

“Yeah, Yoongi hasn’t stopped staring at you since the first second you arrived.” Namjoon nudged the guy next to him. 

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes, looking away. 

“Oooh.” Jungkook joined in, teasing. 

“He’s not denying it!” Hoseok pointed out. The man had a wide grin on his face. 

“Guys, focus.” Jimin said, stopping the commotion. “We got around ten minutes before Jin will start panic-calling some of us.”

“Not gonna lie, I kinda feel bad imagining him panicking over no sight of any of us.” Namjoon commented. 

“He’ll get over it.” Taehyung replied. 

Jimin snapped his fingers to catch everyone’s attention. “Okay, so the event organizer will signal us when it’s time. We will all wait from behind the stage as he prepare for the toast, just when he’s done with the whole speech, we’ll show up.”

“Do we have to sing Happy Birthday?” Jungkook asked. 

“Of course, dummy. Do you want us to sing Careless Whisper or something?!” Hoseok snapped, which earned an evil snicker from the youngest one. 

“You, missy,” Jimin pointed at you. “You'll stand at front since you’ll be holding the cake.” 

“I’m literally the only one here in platforms, why should I?!” You complained. 

“I’m not gonna repeat Taehyung’s statement and start a whole argument again.” The blond haired guy chuckled. “And we all are gonna be right behind you, in case shit happens.”

“Yeah! Yoongi is ready— Ouch!” Hoseok did not let Jungkook finish his sentence by hitting his back. 

At this point Yoongi’s stares and glares were making you really uneasy. He did not react to their teases which was good, but this was also the first time that they started teasing both of you. There was no way Jimin or Jungkook had told them, cause if they wanted to, they could had told them months prior. Whatever it was, you were at least glad that Yoongi found you attractive enough today to catch his attention. 

After finishing the so-called briefing session, it was finally time to step out and wait from behind the curtains. Oddly, none of you got any text or calls from the birthday guy. The sound of the jazzy instrumentals playing and loud talkings could be heard. Jimin handed you the cake as you walked with all the boys right behind you. The mic started echoing and you heard Jin’s voice through the speaker. 

“Good evening, everyone. Thank you so much for coming. I appreciate each and every one of you for your time.” The birthday boy stated. 

“I know it’s a bit much for a birthday, especially when I’m already entering this big age.” He laughed at the sight of thirty-one candle on his birthday cake. “I just wanna celebrate myself today and actually pat myself in the back for all the hard work I’ve done.”

It could be seen from his shadow that he was getting a little bit anxious, looking left and right. “I couldn’t be here without the support of my family and friends.” He exhaled. “Speaking of friends, I wonder where those rascals—“

In a flash, all of you appeared from behind the curtains, singing Happy Birthday loudly. One of the organizers had given you two mics, which were given to Jungkook and Jimin, since they were the actual ones blessed with singing voice. 

Pure expression of happiness was clearly painted on Jin’s face as he clapped and laughed at the sight of the tuna shaped cake with a single candle on its head. You all watched as he blew the candle quickly and snatched the cake from your hands to put it on the table beside him. Just seconds later, the oldest already scooped everyone into a big group hug. 

The after party came soon after all the old relatives went home. Bar was free flow open and the ballroom had transformed into a dance floor. 

Taehyung and Jungkook were dancing in sync, each with drinks in their hands. You could see Hoseok, Jin, and Jimin were goofing and laughing around as the DJ play an old trot song as per their request. Namjoon, you, and Yoongi were left chilling at the bar, enjoying the sight of your friends having fun. 

“Should we join them?” You said with a smile, eyes still looking at the dance floor. 

“Nah, I need to get up early tomorrow, can’t drink too much.” Namjoon said. 

You looked at Yoongi hesitantly, wanting to ask about his opinion, but before you could do that, you felt a hand over your shoulder. 

“Why aren’t you dancing with us???” Jin said to you, half shouting. 

“My dress isn’t exactly fitting to dance around with you goofballs.” You chuckled. 

“Aww, come on!” Jin pouted. “It’s my birthday!”

There was no saying no to Jin’s request. You were soon dragged to the center of the room, joining the boys. All their smiles and laughs were contagious, as in no time, you found yourself dancing along with them to yet another questionable song that Jin requested. 

You lost the track of time, but the pain in your feet reminded you to take a break. You slowly retracted yourself back to the bar area where Namjoon and Yoongi were. 

The speakers were blasting loudly. Even though it was incredibly loud, no amount of Britney Spears songs could make you unhear your name mentioned alongside the word “just” and “friends”. Yoongi was even saying it with an annoyed expression. It was crystal clear to you what the two of them were talking about and you needed no further explanation. 

Immediately the first thing you did was taking your phone from your handbag and texted Jimin. You told him that you needed to go home early and took the taxi. 

And you did. You managed to get out untracked without your any of your friends noticing. 

You barely sat down for five minutes on your sofa upon arriving. Tears that were pooling when you were in the cab now broke freely. You already knew, but hearing it first hand just made you feel sick. You thought you had prepared yourself better for the inevitable. Oh how you were wrong. 

The chat notifications of Jimin asking you multiple questions and three missed calls from him could be seen from your phone screen. You could not care less at the moment. Everything felt too much and it would drain you dead just to make a single reply. 

KNOCK KNOCK

Freezing in place, hand balled into fists. You knew Yoongi enough to even know his door knocking pattern. You were tempted to just ignore and hoping he would go home, but as a matter of fact, the guy had a spare access key to your place and he only knocked out of habit. 

“I’m coming in.” The voice warned, seemingly right in front of the doorstep. 

The expression that was plastered on Yoongi's face was unreadable. He had ditched his suit and tie somewhere and his eyes were insignificantly droopy from the alcohol. Your eyes locked for a quick second before you looked away, remembering how puffy your eyes probably were and how your makeup looked like a mess because of the cryings. 

“Why are you here?” You managed to say. 

“My sweater.” He said stoically. 

“There,” You pointed with your eyes. “On the table.”

He approached closer after taking off his shoes. You saw him bent down in front of you, but instead of grabbing the sweater, he chose to sit next to you. 

You did not know what to say. He wasn’t exactly saying anything to you either, just simply sitting down, listening to your heavy breaths. 

“You know, I came here to tell you to put an end to us…” Yoongi suddenly broke the silence. 

You did not reply, nor look at him. Only tears flowing out quietly as your head crooked to other direction. 

“But seeing your red eyes and messy makeup, all I wanna do right now is to kiss you like I mean it.” 

“Yoongi, stop.” You said with shaky voice. 

“No.” He delicately took your wrist and pulled you closer. You still refused to look into his eyes. 

“Stop… Please.” You begged. At this point you were sobbing, biting your lips hard so you wouldn’t make too much noice. 

Instead of saying anything, he cupped your face with his palms, kissing you. Your gasp and whining were swallowed by him altogether with your tears. You tried to push him at first, but your body quickly gave in to his touch. 

He broke the kiss to give pecks on your forehead, your eyes, cheeks, ears, the tip of your nose, before going to your neck. He rested his head on your shoulder, hugging you comfortably. You could feel his heart beating in such rapid pace. 

“Both Namjoon and Jimin almost hit me.” He chuckled nervously, head still resting on your shoulders in a hug. “When I told Joon that we’re secretly messing around with each other, that was his initial reaction. Later on, when we found out you left, I’ve never seen Jimin’s eyes filled with so much rage.”

You didn’t say anything, just letting him continue. Quite frankly, you could not decipher anything he had just said to you.

“The thing is, I’m not angry at them for accusing me of doing vile things and hurting you. I’m angry because it’s true. I am dumb and we shouldn’t have played with fire.”

“I should’ve stopped.” He withdrew, looking at you softly.

You bit the inner of your cheeks, fighting the tears from coming out. “I’m at fault too, you didn’t force me into anything.”

“Yeah, but I wished I started differently.” He scoffed. “I wish we started differently…”

You looked at him directly with eyes full of hope. “Yoongi…”

“Can we start over? Can I take you on a date?” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Am I even allowed to?”

“But you told me you didn't want a girlfriend…”

“I said a lot of stupid things and also did not say some things I should've.” He sighed. “I called you this morning to offer you a ride.”

You looked at him with widened eyes. “Why didn't you say so?!”

“I'm a coward.” He slumped down, looking away from you. “And I thought it'd make you uncomfortable.”

You chewed your bottom lip. “Then what about what you said to Joon?”

“You heard?”

“Only parts when you said that we're just friends, with a very annoyed expression.”

“He asked about us and I told him the whole story. He was furious at first as I mentioned, but I explained more afterwards.” He paused for a few seconds, before exhaling deeply. “Of course I'm annoyed with the fact that we're just friends…” He took your hand and laced his fingers with yours. “I'm in love with you.”

A tear escaped your eye, the same time a big shaky smile formed on your lips. You laughed, it just felt right to. After all, this whole circumstance between the two of you was indeed funny. Funny how the two of you kept making love while hurting each other in the process. Funny how you were basically crying over your insecurity towards him when he was feeling the same way all along.

“Me too…” You chuckled. Tears now flowing freely and you did not give a damn. "I'm in love with you too.”

Yoongi smiled. His eyes looked glistened and his cheeks were a tad bit rosy. You thought he looked so pretty at that exact moment. He caressed your cheek with his right hand, before gently pulling you towards him for a soft kiss. He quickly kissed the top of your head and pulled you into a hug.

His fingers ghosted the zipper on your back, resting just a little over your butt. When he teasingly pulled down the zipper halfway, you slapped his chest playfully. He laughed and kissed your forehead. And your lips, your neck, and then every single part of your body.

You'd be okay this time though.

Thank you for reading! 🌤️

Prompt request: HERE

[sunnitheapollokid]

♡ ⑅˚₊ going soft on me, hargreeves ? PART ONE.

a five hargreeves multi-fic . . 🌻🕰️ — intro.

warnings : minor cursing .ᐟ mentions of blood.

author’s note : MOSTLY BASED THIS OFF RAPUNZEL READER because tangled is my favorite movie and she’s literally me 🙈 (atp this is a self-insert) AHH but also almost like harley quinn-ish? BUT WHATEVERR happy reading cuties <3

five wiped the blood off his face with his navy blue jacket’s sleeve. his siblings all feeling and looking defeated against the sparrows.

“i’ve never had my ass handed to me like that before.” luther spoke faintly, five squinted under the sun in attempts to relax his body off from that spur of the moment fight. “it’s like,” luther spoke again. “here you go.” he motioned his hands at a confused allison. “it’s your ass.”

despite the pain, five couldn’t get his mind off one of the sparrows. the younger one, with the upbeat personality. he was too busy fighting jayme, but he was incredibly intrigued by her. he could watch her fight diego and allison for a bit, with her own powers. — which was light manipulation.

during the fight, five watched her play with her hands and the light that poured in the hargreeves’ mansion as a distraction for her siblings.

viktor sat by five, “someone’s crushing.”

“yeah, me.” diego replied, stretching his back.

allison rolled her eyes, “i don’t think that’s what viktor meant.” she moved her eyes towards five, who stared at all of them like they were crazy. “a real delight that number eight was, wasn’t she?” klaus commented with a light-hearted laugh. “let’s just find a place to stay, yeah?” five rolled his eyes.

— 𐙚₊˚⊹ ⭐️

five needed a break from his siblings. the hotel klaus had found for them wasn’t half bad, but the coffee they served was complete, and in his words : ‘dogshit.’ which was the only downside of it all really. a very big downside.

five walked into griddy’s donuts in attempts to get a decent cup of coffee. he sat down and waited for her order to be taken when, “umbrella asshole?” one of the waiter’s asked him. it was number eight, just in a diner uniform, and holding a pitcher of coffee.

she looked at him confused. “what are you doing here?” five furrowed his brows, “i should be asking you that.” he retorted. she gave out a big smile at that. “okay ‘ya grump, i work here, actually!” she gave a charming wink as she poured him a cup of coffee.

“i take it you’re a black coffee kinda guy?” her voice overlaping the sound of the coffee pouring in. he took the cup and sipped, “am i suppose to be flattered by that observation?” he asked upon putting the cup down. “i’m just very curious is all.” he fought the urge to mirror her infectious smile.

“also, it’s not just number eight, it’s (name). or — (nickname) if you want.” if it was possible, she smiled brighter. how can anyone be so cheery? five thought to himself. also, why isn’t she kicking my ass right now? “anything to eat for you?” she pulled her pretty and sticker-covered notepad out.

he shook his head, “not hungry. far too much things on my mind.” he tapped his foot on the ground. (name) watched him, his anxious stance and his constant worried eyes. “wait here, yeah?” she spoke before running off to the back of the diner. five watched her rush away, only to come out a few moments later with a plate of waffles, eggs, and a few slices of strawberries.

she placed the plate before him, the maple syrup on top with a smiley face. “what’s this?” he asked with a dead-panned expression planted. (name) shrugged as she sat across him, “my treat, silly.” she beamed another smile at him.

five was hesitant, but took the fork from beside the plate and started digging in. his eyes grew wide at the taste, it was delicious. it felt like being home again. “it’s mom’s recipe. nobody really calls her mom besides me, they make fun of me for it.” she giggled lightly.

five looked at her, “it’s really good.” after five finished he put the fork on the plate and put it away. “thank you! also, i’m very sorry for this five.” she cackled a little more, a confused five realized his mistake and stood up, the girl began fighting him.

she attempted to punch him on the side of his face, but he dodged it with his forearm. he returned the attacked with a kick to her face, blood oozing out of her might-be broken nose. she laughed, impressed, wiping the blood off with her fingers. they began fighting more, to which people inside had run off and evacuated.

(name)’s boss continued to yell at her to stop, but (name) knew damn well she wasn’t going to stop. she hit five in the stomach with her knee, five hunching over, and (name) continued with a back-kick on the side of his face. five coughed before pushing her into the table.

“you fight real good, for a seventeen year old.” she spat the blood out of her mouth on the floor. “and you fight really weak for a girl who can manipulate light.” five time-jumped on the table she’d collided her back with, and tried to kick her once again on the face, but to his surprise only met a blinding light.

and once five was distracted trying to find his vision again, (name) pulled his feet out to get him on his back. five landed with a thud! the pain rising from the bottom of his ass to his back. “lunch is served!” her laugh echoed across the diner. five time-jumped again, under the counter.

(name) looked for him, her platforms clanking on the ground. “where are you five? we’re not done here yet, grump.” she sang, another laugh escaping her lips. she spat another puddle of blood out of her mouth. five panted heavily, trying to catch his breath.

this girl was crazy. how could she be laughing at a time like this? and how was it that she was killer fighter? “come on five, you going soft on me hargreeves?” she walked the place around a little bit more. is that why diego and allison looked that bad after the fight back at the mansion? because of her?

“there you are handsome.”

[doumadono]

hey! I'd like a mango cone with lots of sprinkles and maple syrup!

Characters Bakugo and Dabi (Touya) separately pls

-👾☠️

5k FOLLOWERS EVENT MASTERLIST MY HERO ACADEMIA

Bakugo

Bakugo initially approaches you with a gruff demeanor, clearly trying to hide his concern. Bakugo's eyes dart to where you're sitting, trying to hide the wince of pain every time you move. "Oi, you idiot. What the hell were you thinking? Can't even protect yourself properly?"

Despite his harsh words, his hands will be surprisingly gentle as he examines your injuries. "Tsk, what a mess. Just sit still and let me handle it."

He brings over a first aid kit, slamming it down next to you. Bakugo awkwardly fumbles with the bandages. "Oi, who knew you'd be so clumsy on the battlefield." After a moment, he grumbles again, "Hold still, idiot," while wrapping your wound carefully.

You and Bakugo have been friends for years since meeting at UA, but you struggle to recall seeing him act like that ever before because he always kept you at arm's length. But now? Despite trying to maintain a gruff and cold facade, he's surprisingly affectionate towards you.

As he tends to your wounds, he grumbles under his breath about how you always manage to get hurt. "You're such a pain in the ass, dammit. Do you enjoy making me worry?"

When you flinch from the pain, he'll clench his jaw, trying to hide his own frustration after causing you more pain. "Stop moving, dammit! I'm trying to help you here."

He keeps on grumbling about how annoying it is to have to take care of you, but still, he makes sure you have everything you need to feel better.

If you thank him for his help, he'll quickly brush it off, trying to hide his embarrassment. "Hmph. Don't get used to it! I just can't stand seeing you in such a pathetic state."

He pats your head roughly in the end, "Just… don't get hurt again, okay, nerd?"

But when he thinks you're not looking, you'll catch a rare glimpse of concern in his eyes before he quickly looks away, muttering something about you being annoying, again.

Dabi

Dabi's turquoise eyes narrow as he sees you being carried in by Twice, clearly hurt from the battle. "Took you both long enough to get back," he mutters, though his eyes betray his concern.

As Twice gently sets you down, Dabi can't help but hover close, trying to assess your injuries without making it obvious. "You look like shit," he says gruffly, but there's a tenderness to his tone that wasn't there before.

When you glance up at him after he lingers a bit too long checking your injuries, and your eyes meet, he gruffly murmurs, "I'm just making sure you're not completely useless to our cause."

You've never been involved romantically, but when he's tending to your wounds, he becomes incredibly protective. He keeps other League of Villains members at bay, and if he could, he'd shield you with his own body.

A fleeting thought crosses your mind that perhaps, just perhaps, Dabi feels something more than camaraderie towards you…

When you wince from pain as he treats your wounds, he immediately scolds you, "Don't move too much, Y/N."

As he applies a healing salve or wraps your wounds, he avoids eye contact, focusing intently on his task.

If anyone of the League comments on his sudden caring attitude, he snaps, "Shut up, maniac! It's just because she's gonna be troublesome otherwise."

After taking care of you, he mumbles, "Just rest now, Y/N, and better appreciate this. I don't go around playing nursemaid for just anyone."

As he heads away, he casts one last look back at you, a rare gentleness in his eyes before he exits the common room to attend to his own duties.

Rest assured, anyone who dared to harm you in that battle will meet their demise very soon, and Dabi will ensure they suffer for it. It'll be a head for every wound you got.

[luveline]

Hii

Whenever you have time could you please do more single dad!Spencer. It’s just too cute and it really warms my heart how you write it.

tysm ♡ dad!spencer and his daughter amanda find their reunion unexpectedly interrupted when you need a place to stay the night. fem!reader, 3.4k

Spencer doesn't mind how tactile Amanda is. If anything, he loves it, content to have her sitting in his lap or on his hip, anywhere he goes and anywhere she wants to be. He tries to get in as much affectionate time with her as he can when he's home to make up for his days away. 

He doesn't like missing her, but he loves coming home. Amy sits on his stomach while Spencer lays on the couch, using his thighs as a backboard while they both fail to pay attention to the kids cartoons on their TV. 

"Were you good for Mrs. Gomorrah?" he asks, though he knows she was. He had to live through the agony that was teaching Mrs. Gomorrah how to text on a cell phone he bought for her years ago, but it was worth it to get those incremental updates that he relies on every day to get to the next without catching a flight home.

Amy had pizza 

Amy misses you. She said she is kissing you through my phone

Wants a new dress for school party tonight, emergency money OK to use? said she loves you 

Aaskkk k k o 

Sorry, accidentally texted you, Amanda made dinner tonight [photo]

The text messages help being far away feel less like torture. Spencer loves his job but he wonders if he should love it less, sometimes, when Mrs. Gomorrah remembers how to send photos, or when he can make it back to the hotel before bed time and call Amy.

But here she is in the flesh. Spencer doesn't worry about work when she's holding his hand. 

"I was good," she confirms, wiping hair from her face with a blue sleeve. She's in her pyjamas at three thirty. Spencer's in his matching set, blue long sleeve t-shirts with two dogs —a grown up and a puppy, seemingly a dad dog and his daughter— on the shirt and miniature dogs on the pants. "Promise. We did fruit kebabs last night." 

Spencer saw photos, but he still says, "Yeah? What fruits did you have? You know, strawberries will be extra yummy again soon because they're back in season." 

"We had strawberries, and bananas, and the green one, kiwi." She puts one of her feet up on his chest. He makes wide eyes at it to hear her giggle. "And with chocolate and maple syrup, it was really yummy." 

"We should make Tanghulu." 

This is a new word for Amy. "Tanghulu?" 

"It started with a berry called Chinese hawthorn, but now people use lots of different fruits. You make a fruit kebab, but instead of chocolate, you dip the fruit into hot sugar and it goes hard as it cools like rock candy, and you have good strong teeth, so you could eat it no problem." 

"It turns the fruit into candy?" she asks, wiggling her toes. 

"Kind of." Spencer covers her foot with his hand unthinkingly. She looks tired already though it's only the afternoon. She gets very tired when Spencer comes home, like she'd been waiting. "Do you want to have a nap with me, sweetpea?" 

"No, I don't think so."

Spencer made a mistake when she was younger. He thought leaving while she was sleeping would make it easier to say goodbye. It was for him, but Amy didn't sleep or eat right for days, and Spencer had to come home before the case was over to stop her from making herself sick. They've worked on it, Spencer never ever leaves without saying goodbye, but she still gets scared to sleep when they're together sometimes. 

He ushers her forward. "Come here," he says, "quick, give me a hug." She flops forward and Spencer arranges her into a cuddle, hand against her hair, his nose pressed to her forehead. "I missed you." 

"Missed you more," she says. 

"Not true. I missed you so much." 

"Don't go away again for a day," she says. 

"I'm staying home for a whole week. Maybe longer, okay? But I promise you, seven whole days no matter what." And he means it. The only thing that could change his mind is a mass murder situation, but otherwise, they'll have to make it work without him. He hates to say that kind of thing, but he has to say it, because Amy is his first priority. 

She relaxes into his arms. "Okay." 

His phone rings, because of course it does. Amy frowns her displeasure with tears shining silver in her eyes. Spencer shakes his head at her, "I'm not going, Ames. I promised. I won't answer anybody, this week is just going to be me and you." 

She glares at the phone and rests her chubby cheek on his chest. Spencer wonders if it's uncomfortable considering his lack of padding and sits up with an arm behind her seatbelting her to his front. "Let's go watch TV in bed." 

Her hands grab at the back of his shirt. "Bring your phone, dad," she says. 

Spencer kisses the side of her head. "No, I told you already, I'm not going." 

"What if Mrs. Gomorrah wants to come for dinner?" she asks, her voice smaller, sleepy. She rubs her face into his front. 

It's a good point. Spencer picks up his phone to check if it was her and frowns at the missed call. It's you. You've texted him too. 

"It's Y/N," he says. 

Amy knows you because whenever he's had to bring her with him (not often, but occasionally on regular work days when there's school reset days), you're very, very kind to her. You're not sure of yourself around kids but it doesn't matter, you let Amy sit with you if she wants to and you always talk to her with care, offer her snacks, anything that you can share. 

It's why he calls you back. That, and you're a nice friend. 

— 

You're feeling about as ashamed and sheepish as a girl can be as you take the elevator up to Spencer's floor. You don't want to impose on anybody, but you'd rather have died than ask Hotch, JJ's taking a vacation in Santa Monica, Penelope's on a conference with Kevin, Emily chose to use her week on an undisclosed trip, and Morgan was similarly off the radar. 

And you know Spencer has Amanda, you know they've been apart for longer than they've been together this month, and you hate interrupting their time together, but… you couldn't stay home no matter how badly you wanted to. Stupid landlord. Stupid cockroaches and stupid fumigation tents.

You carry your go bag with nothing but a week's worth of dirty clothes and your wallet. Your phone is about to die and you'd really wanted, more than anything, to crawl into bed and sleep the daytime away. 

You've never been to Spencer's apartment despite knowing him well, and liking him more. You knock on the door, apartment 305B. You're dead on your feet at this point, exhausted by the jet ride home, the commute to your apartment, the subsequent ten minutes spent crying on the sidewalk, and the next half hour debating if you could bother Spencer. Maybe you should've got a hotel, but it was already getting late and you just needed something familiar. Selfishly, you needed someone you knew after such a shitty case. 

"Hello," Spencer says, opening the door with a familiar girl held in his arms, "don't mind my jacket." 

Amy's clearly sleeping, tiny snores echoing from near his neck. It's cute, but it makes you feel much worse. "I'm sorry–" 

He doesn't let you apologise, "Are you kidding? What were you gonna do? We're excited to have you." He's kind of talking to you like Amy's still awake, enthusiastic whisper-shouting as he pulls you inside. 

"It's just for tonight, I promise. They said I'll be able to  back in by evening tomorrow," you say, holding your bag to your chest. You blink at him as you follow him to the kitchen. "Are you wearing matching pyjamas?" 

"You came over last minute!" he defends with a laugh. 

Spencer opens his hand for your bag and puts it behind a steaming bowl of soup. "Oh, were you guys eating dinner?" you ask. 

"No, that's for you. I'm gonna put Amy in bed and then I can do your laundry. Did you need a hug?" 

"What?" 

Spencer smiles at you. "I thought maybe you're having a bad day." He offers his empty arm and you don't know how to say no, don't want to, careful not to bump into Amy as you curl your arm behind his back. "We're happy to have you. You could stay all week and that would be fine. Did they really give you no warning?" 

"I called my landlord and he laughed and then kind of got quiet. I think he forgets that I live there." 

Spencer pulls away and puts a hand on Amy's back. She's very slight like Spencer but if she were any older he'd struggle to carry her for as long as he has. You can see the fatigue trembling in his left arm. "It's not legal for him to leave you with nowhere to stay, and without any notice. You could ask Hotch–" 

"It's okay." You gesture to Amy's face. "She's getting so big." 

"And heavy. Be back in a few. Eat on the couch if you want to." 

You wouldn't. Spencer takes Amy into one room off of the main room, and then comes back to grab your laundry before disappearing into another. His apartment is a fun but odd layout, the door leading into a living room slash kitchen with a dining table, then opening out left and right, bedrooms toward the back of the apartment and a bathroom behind. It reminds you of a flower, that central hub of life and the petals curling outward. 

You pick up your spoon cautiously. He definitely said the food was for you, but it's so strange to be greeted with a meal, you can't remember the last time someone made sure you had something to eat. 

Spencer doesn't attract your attention until he's pulling up a chair next to you with two glasses set on the table. "I put your pyjamas on quick wash. And your, uh, your grey bag." 

Your grey bag is a little net bag full of delicates. You try to be adult about it, but it's so super awkward that you end up laughing aloud, "Oh, shit, I'm sorry." 

"Don't be. It doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you. I just put the entire bag in, like, intact." 

You believe that, but you infer from the tightness of his voice that he's worried you'll think he's weird. Honestly, he's just nice, even if it's awkward. Everybody wears underwear. "That's what it's for," you say. 

"Do you think they make those in a bigger size? Amy's vests get tangled sometimes because the straps are skinny, that would be useful." 

"I'm sure they do," you say, toying with your spoon. "I… really don't know how to say thank you. I know we're friends, but it's different. To let me stay."

"When I was a kid I didn't have many friends. By high school I didn't have one. So I never got to have sleepovers until Amanda. And she's my best friend, but she's six, so…" 

You both laugh suddenly, beaming at one another in your wrinkled, mismatched clothes. 

You finish your meal through lighthearted conversation. Spencer takes your dish for the sink and you both move to the couch to watch TV. 

Clifford the Big Red Dog plays on mute. "I know you're thrilled to watch something this intellectually tantalising, but maybe we should watch a movie. There's a guide under the cushion," Spencer says. 

You dig for the guide but wherever he thinks it is, it isn't. 

"Doesn't matter. Mrs. Gomorrah will have one, I'll take her some dinner at the same time. Would you keep your ear on Amy? She might wake up."

He makes a tray for Mrs. Gomorrah, a neighbour and good friend of his. You've met her once when she brought Amy into the office, an Italian-American woman who's black and silver hair bounced when she talked. Beside his mother living in a sanitarium in Nevada, and his small daughter, Mrs. Gomorrah is Spencer's only family. He treats her accordingly. 

The washing machine starts to beep a few minutes after he's left. You spring from the couch and track down his washer and dryer, transferring your damp wash into the dryer and frowning at the machine's strange settings.

"Daddy?" a small voice calls. Sharper, unhappy, "Daddy?" 

"Amy!" you say, moving from your crouch to stand in the doorway. "Hi, honey! Your dad just went to give Mrs. Gomorrah some dinner." 

Amy squints at you. "Miss Y/N?" 

"Hi," you say tentatively. "My house is kind of broken for a bit and I asked your dad if I can stay the night." You bend to meet her eyes properly. "Would that be okay with you?" 

"Yeah," she says, smiling. "Yeah, please stay. Daddy's friends never come over." 

"Did you need something, honey? I can help." 

"No… You're sure he's at Mrs. Gomorrah's?" 

"Definitely one hundred percent positive. He can't go to work without me, can he?" 

Amy shrugs little shoulders. "I guess not." 

You can't help laughing at her. With the sound of the dryer bumping behind you, you meet Amy near the dining table and touch her shoulder gently to prompt her toward the couch. She jumps up onto the seat with the most cushions and you sit beside her. You and Spencer never managed to pick a movie, so the kids channel still plays on mute. 

"How do you turn it up?" you ask, offering her the remote hopelessly. 

Amy sidles against your side and points. You click the small white speaker button, greeted by the barks of another episode of Clifford. 

"Is this one okay?" you ask. 

"I love Clifford."

It can't be two minutes before she rests her head against your arm, her hand locking over the crook of your elbow. 

You're not sure what to do. She's Spencer's kid, so she probably does. "Do you want a cuddle?" you ask her. You'd be happy to give her one, but you don't know what's okay with her. 

"Please." 

You hang your arm across her shoulders and behind her back, stroking a tentative and short line into her arm, just once. "These are nice pyjamas, Amy. I saw your dad has the same ones." They're soft under your arm. Her hair brushes your wrist as she turns her head to crinkle her nose at you. 

"Thank you. Me and dad have all matching pyjamas," she says proudly. 

"All?" 

"Well, maybe not all. But lots." 

She hums and shuffles closer to your chest. It felt odd at first —although Amy has sat in your lap at your desk at work, and even given you a hug on her birthday to say thank you for the books and candies, you're not used to children or the things that they want. But it feels less foreign the longer she sits there, and you find yourself relaxing for the first time that day. 

Spencer comes back with a shiny TV Guide Magazine and a bundle of Amy's clothes under his arm. His eyes light up as her head peeks over the back of the couch. 

"Sorry, I was just at Mrs. Gomorrah's," he says, quickly putting everything down to take her into his arms. 

"I know," Amy says into his shirt. 

He kisses her head. You almost miss it, the affection quiet and swift. "Was your nap okay? Or do you need another one?" 

"Dad! Y/N's here." 

"Y/N doesn't care that you take naps, she takes naps too." Snoozing up against his shoulder with drool running down your chin. 

"No, I can't sleep because we're having a slumber party!" 

"We are?" he asks. 

"But she needs matching jammies." 

"Well, I don't have anything matching, but it won't be long for all my clothes to dry. I can wear jammies, then, at least," you assure her, sending Spencer a squinting smile that says, She's the cutest thing on planet Earth. 

He smiles back, as if to say, She really is. "Maybe Y/N wants a nap." 

Amy's concern lands on you. She climbs out of Spencer's arms, pressing her hand to your shoulder. "Please don't nap, I want to play games." 

"I'll play games, babe," you say. "Any game you want." 

"Yes! And, and maybe we can make, um–" Puzzled, Amy quirks her mouth into a frown and bounds back to Spencer. He rounds the couch and leans down at her gesturing. "What's it called, the fruit candy?" she whispers.

"From earlier?" he whispers back. "It's tanghulu. Tang-who-loo." 

She whispers a sweet thank you, spinning on the spot with her hands held behind her back. "We can make tanghulu, it's fruit kebabs turned to candy! Do you want to?"

Spencer smooths her hair back from her face. "You don't have to," he mouths, already squeezing her arm like he's prepared to talk her down. 

"Well, if it's okay with your dad I'd love to."

She gasps happily, jumping down off the sofa to race into the bathroom. "I'll wash my hands!" 

Spencer snorts and sits on the couch arm. "Notice how she didn't even ask me?" 

"You know that's a good thing." Spencer's probably read every parenting book there is. "She's so smart, Spencer. So smart, it's incredible. You're amazing." 

He scratches the collar of his sleep shirt, his curls moving as though woken by a gentle breeze as he nods to one side, "She shows some signs of an eidetic memory. Not like mine, but most children who have eidetic memories don't have them like I do. I can't take the credit for that, you know, beyond genetics." 

"Of course you can, someone had to teach her these things for her to remember them. You're never as nice to yourself as you should be, Spence. Everybody knows you're a great dad." You slouch back into the couch. "And I'm not just saying that because you're letting me stay for free." 

"There's no version of this situation where I would ever charge you. Thank you, Y/N. Having her by myself has been hard��� it's hard. She's easy and I love her and she's better for me than she probably should be." He winces, his talking rushed, like he's listing statistics. "I haven't really been by myself. Mrs. Gomorrah. The team. We've known each other for a year but you act like Amy's family whenever you see her, and that means a lot to me. That's why I'm glad you called. You can always call me if you need help." 

"You can always call me," you murmur back. 

Spencer bumps your thigh with his knuckles. "I'm glad we're friends. Are you sure you're not too tired? Tanghulu isn't easy if you've never made it." 

"Says who?" 

"East Asian Eating, issue 78. We have to find the sugar, water, glucose syrup sweet spot or the candy doesn't harden."

"We can do it. You're the smartest guy I know, and I've been known to be resourceful. Plus, we have a world class assistant." 

Spencer stands up and offers you his hand to help you come with him, his fingers brushing yours for a moment that seems to stretch for minutes. "Just curious," he says softly, to your heart's clear delight, "when was your last check up at the dentist?" 

Right. He isn't about to tell you something you want to hear. This is Spencer —you should've guessed an odd question was on the horizon. 

"I'll have to think about it," you say.  

Amy bounds out of the bathroom and paints a trail of water droplets from the table to the kitchen. "He thinks you have weak teeth!" she explains. 

"That is not what I think." 

[hallowpen]

This post is going to be a combination of The Loyal Pin Episodes 5 and 6, as I was unable to post for episode five due to my travel schedule.

Let's start off with the two key highlights from Episode 5...

หมูสร่ง (pronounced 'muu sarong') is a Thai dish made of pork meatballs wrapped in egg noodles that are fried until golden and crispy. For this reason, the dish is literally translated as "Pork wrapped in Golden Threads". It is usually served with a plum dipping sauce.

The Thai name for the series is ปิ่นภักดิ์ ('Pin Phak'). ปิ่น serves as Khun Pin's nickname... but is also Thai for "hairpin". A tradition born from the Lanna Kingdom (อาณาจักรล้านนา), nobles and high-ranking officials would purchase hairpins of gold, silver, or brass to wear as a social status symbol of their wealth. The gift of a hairpin (usually a gift given from a suitor to their potential bride) would symbolize one's promise to care for its intended wearer. Hairpins are associated with the belief that they will help to preserve a couple's love and prevent it from fading over time. They are, therefore, representative of the true and lasting connection between Anil and Pin.

If you managed to survive Episode 6, let's discuss....

การซักผ้าด้วยเครื่องหอ�� - The process of washing clothes in fragrant water is pretty straightforward. A combination of herbs, spices, and florals are added to boiling water to create a natural detergent. The chosen additives can aid in stain and odor removal, reducing wrinkles, and preserving the color of the garments. The particular ingredients chosen in the series were 1) ลูกซัดคั่ว (roasted fenugreek seeds) - Also known as methi seeds, they smell and taste like maple syrup 2) ชะลูด (dried alyxia) - A climbing flowering plant that has a sweet and light fragrance, described to smell like honey 3) ใบเตย (pandan leaves) - A tropical plant whose soft aroma is described as having hints of rose, almond, and vanilla.

Thai rubies (พลอยสีทับทิม) are extremely rare and highly coveted, as they are far scarcer than diamonds. The rubies are not only admired for their beauty, but are known in Thai culture as one of the nine sacred gemstones. They are believed to hold auspicious meanings, and to bring long-lasting love to their wearer. Owning and wearing jewelry that features this incredibly valued gemstone is seen as a status symbol for royalty. Princess Alisa gifting these jewels to Pin for her birthday means she holds Pin in very high regard (it was hinted in the first episode that Alisa views Pin as a second daughter).

There are a few conversations and quotes from this episode that I would like to highlight.

The first is the conversation between Pin and Princess Patt:

"Can Princess Anil follow in Princess Patt's footsteps and stay unmarried?" "That would be quite unlikely, Lady Pin. [...] Savettavarit is a very famous, wealthy, and well-respectable family. Princess Anil will eventually have to get married. You will also have to get married as well, Lady Pin. I already have some prospects in mind."

There are certain expectations that women of royalty and nobility cannot escape from. The most prominent of which is to be married and have natural born children to preserve the line of succession. It is also important to note that these potential marriage prospects are always chosen by a daughter's parents...with the daughter having little to no say over the decision. Which leads me right into the next scene... when Anil is talking to Prik about having to leave for England sooner than she expected:

"I did not choose to do this, Prik."

Such a short and quick line... that holds so much meaning. Anil is a highly ranked princess yet, even she, must submit to the whims of her elder brother. Women hardly hold a say over their own lives within this society... and that's going to come into play, very obviously, later on in the series...

The last scene I wanted to mention was during Anil's planned dinner, when she and Pin were discussing Pin's birthday:

"What gift do you want from me for your birthday?" "Just wake up early to make merits and give alms to the monks with me, Your Highness."

I'm mentioning this scene for cultural reasons. In Thai culture, the tradition of making merit and giving alms together is tied to the beliefs of shared karma. The practice is said to bring prosperity to couples in their current life, and to ensure they will meet again in future lives. Pin's request is representative of her intentions to walk hand-in-hand with Anil in their present life, and in their future lives to come. I'm not crying... you are!!! 😭😭😭

[vivwritesfics]

Pancakes - CL16

Charles Leclerc loves his girlfriend. He loves her enough to make her pancakes while half asleep to make her happy.

A/N: It's nearly 11PM and I want to make myself pancakes. Somebody tell me to pls

Requests Open

Masterlist

Do you ever get those nights where you just can't sleep? Like, you've had a full, busy day and you can't wait to be tucked up in bed in your warmest pyjamas with your love holding you close but, when you get into bed, you just can't sleep?

That was the position Y/N was in. She laid awake, staring at the ceiling. Sleep wasn't coming easy - sleep wasn't coming at all.

Her boyfriend laid beside her, snoring lightly. Y/N should have been enjoying these moments together, the few times they got to sleep in the same bed while the Formula One season was ongoing.

Charles rolled onto his side, throwing his arm over Y/N. His body was warm against hers, breath fanning over her shoulder.

Y/N's stomach growled.

It was oh so incredibly loud, it was a miracle Charles didn't wake up.

With no other choice, Y/N moved her boyfriends arm and slipped out of bed. She made sure he was still asleep, pushed his hair away from his forehead and kissed him quickly.

Charles woke up around ten minutes after Y/N left the bed. He was alone, which was weird, and her side of the bed was still warm. She couldn't have gone far. Charles sat there for a moment or two, waiting for his girlfriend to return.

When she didn't, he got up and explored. and

Charles found Y/N in the kitchen, whisking at some batter in a pink bowl. She let out a yawn as she did so, tiredness suddenly settling in. "My love?" Called Charles as he walked over to her. "What are you doing?"

"Making pancakes," she muttered and walked over to the pan. She poured some of the batter in and stared at it, waiting for the pancakes to start cooking.

They didn't.

Charles was almost too asleep to notice. It was only when Y/N yarned once, and then again, that he checked. "My love, the stove isn't on," he said walked over to her.

Placing his hand on her hip, Charles took charge of the pancakes. He turned on the stove, watching and waiting to flip them. When they were ready, he plated up most for his girlfriend (giving himself one), put on the toppings (maple syrup, sugar and lemon juice) that Y/N requested, and passed them to her.

"Thank you, baby," she muttered as they walked back to the bedroom. Neither one of them had yet touched their pancakes, waiting until they got back into bed. Charles pulled back the duvet and put on a sitcom to watch while they ate.

With full bellies and the television playing, Y/N finally fell asleep. Charles took her plate and placed it on her bedside table. He pulled the covers over her body and pulled her close, falling asleep as he held her.

[itsallyscorner]

Maple syrup, coffee, pancakes for two | H.S

pairing: boyfriend!Harry Styles x reader

summary: you unintentionally help Harry with a song he’s been struggling to write

warnings: a lil on the cheesy side tbh, but she’s cute. Mentions the pandemic

a/n: this was one from the drafts, originally written when Harry’s House was released and I finally got around to finishing it :)

Sometime during 2020 and the pandemic

His soft murmurs and humming were the only sounds that can be heard in his makeshift studio. The occasionally creaking of the house or him clicking his pen would break the silence from time to time. His frame was hunched over on the burnt orange colored couch, with his knees almost pressed against his chest, the couch was far too small for his tall figure. However, he liked the couch and it was comfy to lay on when he took breaks from writing. The journal he used to jot down lyrics was balanced on his left knee while his right hand scribbled words on the paper sloppily.

He had just gotten off a zoom call with Kid, Mitch, and some other members who he’s been working with for his new album. While they were supposed to be working in the studio for today’s session, one of the writers had come down with a cold. While it wasn’t confirmed to be COVID, Harry and his team decided it would be safe if everyone just isolated themselves for a while until further notice. Harry actually enjoyed the thought of working on the album at his home. He considered this to be one of the most intimate albums he’s ever made. The artist in him believed that being in the place where he’s comfortable being vulnerable would allow him to write more personal songs. Being home also allowed him to be closer to his muse—you.

The small claw clip holding his fringe from his face began to feel a bit too tight and his eyes were straining against the warm toned light to look at the page on his journal. He had been stuck on a certain verse for a while now and couldn’t bring himself to just call it a day on writing. He had been on the grind when he first started it, but all of a sudden his verses were turning into single words waiting to be properly knitted into a song. So far, some words/phrases he had were:

Wine glass

Puff pass

Side boob ;)

Cocaine

Toothache

Yellow sunglasses

They were the most random and absurd words to be grouped together, yet he knew he was going somewhere with whatever he had. His train of thought came to a halt when your voice rang through the room.

“Hey, you”

His eyes shifted towards your voice and there you were leaning against the door frame. You wore one of his old sweatshirts, which came up to your knees, and some socks on your feet. You weren’t wearing much but your presence and the soft smile gracing your features screamed comfort to him.

The slight frown on Harry’s face turned into a smile that resembled yours. Pushing off of the door frame, you slowly approached Harry’s spot on the couch.

“Hi angel.” He greeted you, spreading his legs out to make space for you. You happily make your way in between his legs and settle on the floor. You crossed your legs and sat so you were looking up at him. Harry craned his neck to place a kiss on your temple, his lips continuing to move down your face to spread little kisses all over your face. When he got to your lips he placed a soft peck on them with a smile on his own pinkish lips.

“Hope you don’t mind me bothering you.” You tease, the sweet smile still on your face. Harry scoffs playfully, “Y’never a bother to me. I missed you today, what’ve y’been up to?”

He’s been in the “studio” since the morning, having a quick breakfast with you and immediately hopping on zoom to work with his team. It was now 6pm and you couldn’t recall seeing or hearing your boyfriend leave the room throughout the day for a break or a snack—which led to you checking in on him.

“Not much, finished up some things for work and caught up on some Love Island.” You shrugged, Harry rolling his eyes jokingly at the mention of the reality tv show. “How ‘bout you? Was today’s session successful?” You ask. Harry hums, reaching for his journal.

“S’half ‘n half. We finished that track we wrote last month—don’t know if y’remember it—but it turned out really great. I have a good feeling ‘bout it once it’s out.” He began while still flipping back to the page he last wrote on. “I started writing another, b’now I’m just stuck. M’brain feels like it can’t think of anything else, s’blank.” He ranted using his hands to express his emotions. You let out a chuckle as you avoid one of his large hands waving around from hitting your face.

“Maybe it’s time for you to take a break, H. You’ve been here all day, god knows how long you’ve been slouched on this couch.” For emphasis, you nudge said couch, Harry shooting you a look.

“S’not a bad couch, leave m’couch alone.” He pouts, silently agreeing that it was definitely time for a break. You duck out of his arms and get up, walking towards the door. Harry follows, moving to get up but halts his movements when a crack comes from his back. You swiftly turn around with your eyes wide and an amused look.

“Oi m’back!” Harry exclaimed in shock. He stood there for second before making eye contact with you. The two of you burst out laughing.

“I fucking told you!” You pointed at him, only to be gently pushed out the door by Harry who was muttering for you to “shuddup”.

Despite the two of you being home, Harry linked his fingers with yours while you both walked to the kitchen. His large hand engulfed yours, his rough thumb stroking the top of your hand.

“I’m actually hungry.” Harry thought aloud once the kitchen came to view. He was wondering what he should eat, deciding between leftovers, cooking, or ordering in. However, he let out a gasp when he saw food already on the table.

He turned around to you beaming, “Y’made my favorite!” On the dining table were pancakes, hash browns, eggs, and coffee. Even though he was eating healthier, Harry believed that one can never go wrong with breakfast for dinner. The main reason why he loved it was because of a memory you both shared during the early stages of your relationship.

The two of you had overslept at his house after movie night and skipped dinner. By the time you both woke up, everything was closed. So the two of you ended up rummaging through his kitchen only to find eggs, pancake mix, frozen hash browns, and coffee. Harry loved that night so much because it was the moment you two truly got to know each other more and connected. It was like finally breaking the barrier of whatever was holding you back from one another. Till this day he remembers the sleepy haze behind your eyes as you shared stories from your past. Your mascara smudged beneath your eyes and your hair was a mess, but none of that mattered because he thought you were beautiful either way. Ever since that night, the two of you would have breakfast for dinner as a staple in your household.

While Harry piled two plates with eggs, pancakes, and hash browns, you filled up two mugs with coffee. Harry liked his black, while you liked yours with a bit of cream and sugar. The two of you settled in the living room, ditching the dining table because it just wasn’t comfy enough. You smiled down at your plate—which had maple syrup dripping down a tower of pancakes—as Harry picked a record to put on. Call it old school, but it was one of the normal things keeping you sane during this lockdown. He had chosen one of his Elvis ones. The same one he played that first night you had breakfast for dinner.

You sat across each other on the couch, feet nuzzled together and your knees bumping alongside the other. The sound of your forks and knives scratching against the plate filled the room along with Elvis’s voice on the record player.

Harry had forgotten he had been writing the entire day. Instead, he remembered all the places you traveled to and the memories you made together on those trips. Being stuck at home for months made the both of you crave the outside world and the normality of it all. Though as much as you wanted to book a trip to Italy, it wasn’t safe to leave the country.

It felt like the world was ending, but to Harry it didn’t feel like it because he was with you. You brought light to the darkness—yes, it was cheesy—but it was the only way Harry knew how to describe being with you.

You guys spent the night eating and reminiscing on past memories you made together. As the hours passed, your plates were now empty and on the coffee counter, while you had found your way into your lover’s arms. His arms held you close to him as your body rested perfectly against his. Your head laid upon his chest, allowing you to feel him breathe and hear the beating of his heart. You were surrounded by his warmth and it was truly all you ever wanted.

Harry could feel you dozing off, your sentences had gotten shorter and your voice had a slight slur. With his nose against your temple he whispered, “Y’know I’ll always love you, right?”

You shifted your head to look into his dark emerald eyes, “Yeah.”

His eyes squinted at you playfully, “How so?” He tested you.

“Because I know I’ll always love you too.”

Then just like that, a spark set off in his head, and all of a sudden the words he has jotted down earlier that day made sense.

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader | p. 2

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

-> <-

Sep. 1974

It’s as if you’re already going off to college. Dropping her baby off for the first day of first grade gives your mom crippling worry. She tugs at the fabric of your frilly pink top that she was gifted while you were still in her belly.

There is a part of her that always wants you by her side. She can’t let go of when you were a brand new babe. You and her did everything together. She still sits in the back with the other parents, while you practice at your etiquette classes on Saturdays.

If you could tell her how ridiculous they are without shattering her spirit, you would without a second thought. Who knew there were so many different types of spoons? Or that walking with your shoulders up is aggressive and unladylike?

You have much more fun when you’re digging for worms with Eddie and racing him around the trailer because you’re faster than him even on such short legs.

A set of footsteps approach from behind where you stand at the front of the school. It tears your mom up, but she’s got to stop picking at your clothes and slicking down loose pieces of hair. You’re clean, you’ve been fed a full meal and you have your lunch pale. Oh - she twists your arm. Lunch pale? Where’s your- the pink strap drops from her shoulder.

“Here, baby,” she might lose her head if she isn't careful. Handing over your lunch pale, she loops the strap over your shoulder and secures it with a tight tug. “You ready?”

Wayne’s giving a lecture to Eddie about responsibility, and he’s hoping that whatever Eddie is staring at behind him isn’t too interesting and that he’s actually listening to what his uncle is saying. Alas, there’s only so much he can do.

“You take her hand and you walk her straight to her classroom. Eddie,” Wayne’s warning straightens Eddie out, “make sure the teacher sees her. Okay?”

“I got it,” Eddie kicks the gravel under him. “Can I go now?”

“Hug,” it isn’t a question and Wayne sneaks a kiss on the top of Eddie’s head.

Meanwhile, your mom is suffocating you into an endless hug. She holds back her tears as best as she can, but her sniffling gives away the secret.

When she’s ready, you turn away from her. Your backpack is half of your size. Silly little doodles and sparkles scream out across the fabric.

Eddie holds out his hand, and you gladly wrap your fingers around his. The two of you are sucked into the swarm of kids entering the school building, and your mom will stand there until she absolutely is sure that pink glittery bag is gone.

“Do you think it ever gets easier?” She toys with the necklace around her neck.

Wayne wipes her eye, “no, I suppose not.”

“Do you want to get a bite to eat before I head off to work?” Your mom offers. “I’ll pay.”

“I’ll pay,” Wayne shakes his head. “I’ll meet you at the diner around the corner.”

The crowd tightens inside the school, where you’re hardly able to move around the sea of kids. Parents hang around outside of the classrooms waving goodbye to their children.

You’re hardly sure of yourself. The school is still new under your feet. Tile slips beneath you. Everything smells fresh inside. It’s clean. You’re a fan of clean.

Eddie keeps to his word and even tightens his grip when you’re about to be separated by a bigger guy. Fifth graders. They’re all that once they’re at the top of the food chain. Compared to scrawny you, you’re like a minnow in a sea of swordfish.

You near an open classroom where the orange candy colored door has a number one stuck onto a bright orange sun. There’s a few smiley face stickers dancing down the door frame.

A friendly face greets you at the door. Her hair is like the maple syrup you drown your pancakes in. Skin like soap. And, you think she smells like mint.

“Good morning, Eddie!” Her cherry cheeks pinch upwards. “Are you helping your friend to class? That’s very sweet of you!”

Eddie was enrolled in her first grade class a few years ago. Mrs. Clark is one of the kindest ladies that he ever met. They had fun guessing colors and counting numbers together. Sometimes she would give them funny little rewards like candy or cool shiny pencils.

Mr. Brown, Eddie’s new third grade teacher, will surely not do that. The man is about as interesting as a plank of wood. Still, he should try to learn something. Maybe he can finally master cursive writing. That would be a neat trick.

You spin around when Mrs Clark ushers you forward. Brows furrowed into the center of your forehead, Eddie drops your hand and sends you on your way with a wave.

“I’ll see you at recess,” he reassures you.

“Okay,” you swallow those nerves. “Bye, Eddie.”

There’s a hum that separates the classroom from the hallway. Chaos consumes outside the room, but inside is much calmer and quieter. Encouraging posters flash at you from the walls. An alphabet stretches across two corners or the walls at the tippy top. You know your alphabet like you know your numbers because your mom wouldn’t let you rest all summer. She insisted you must know them, before you get into class.

“Do you see your name on the front of any of these desks?” Mrs. Clark encourages your independence.

Weaving between the rows of desk, you do find your name plastered largely on a piece of construction paper that sits atop your desk. You hang your backpack over the back of the desk, before sliding into your chair.

“You can color your name tag if you would like,” she encourages, “you can use your crayons or there’s a big bucket we share over there.”

There’s a whole wall of construction paper, crayons, markers and art supplies that you could choose from. You’re going to enjoy this class a lot. You just know it.

Mrs. Clark leaves you to return to the hallway, while waiting for a few more kids. That cookie cutter grin never leaves her face.

Your mom told you that everything you need is inside that backpack. Unzipping the biggest pocket, you find a purple pencil case. It still has that zesty waxy smell from last year. You go ahead and drop the case onto your desk, before popping the lid open.

“Hi,” pops out a young brunette girl about your height and weight. She’s got on overalls that are one size too big, and she’s missing a tooth in the front of her face.

“Hi,” you smile with all of your teeth.

“Can I borrow some of these?” Her eyes go wide with interest at the particularly pretty pink crayon you have in that box.

You are ready to tell her that there’s a shareable box on the countertop that’s already being picked through by several of your classmates, but before you get the chance, she’s already taken a couple of your crayons. Scrunching your brows into a tight knot, you let the interaction go for now. Your mom’s voice rings in your ears to share with the other kids.

It’s not your favorite thing to do, and your mom chops that up to not having a sibling. Mom says you won’t get one, even though you really want one. Apparently it’s too difficult to get a sibling these days, they’re really expensive. You’ve never seen a store in the mall that sells siblings, but your mom has never been one to lie to you.

They must be rare.

The crayon thief sits right across from you, so you can keep an eye on her. Tongue stuck out from focusing too hard on whatever she’s coloring, you peak over to see. She’s got a cool fish doodled on the right side of the construction paper. The pink is being used roughly to draw some scales across his back.

“That’s cool,” you pipe up.

She finishes the scales, before she speaks to you again, “thanks! Yours is cool too!”

You spent a couple moments drawing lines and shapes across the piece of construction paper in all different colors.

“Thanks!” You say, “What’s your name?”

Lifting the piece of construction paper out in front of her with such theatrics, she traces her name across the paper.

“Robin,” she points. “Yours?”

In a swift motion, you’re also holding up the construction paper so she can read your name off. She nods in acknowledgment, and hands off your pink crayon. Bye, not without sneaking the orange one to scribble a few more scales.

“We should eat lunch together,” Robin decides in that moment. “I don’t have many friends, but I think you’re going to be one of them.”

Your face flushes, “Okay, Robin.”

The moment of chatter has passed, as soon as Mrs. Clark comes into the room with an agenda. She begins by writing her name out in big letters across the chalkboard and then telling you guys something interesting about herself. She has a big dog named Fluffy.

You want a dog, but your mom does not. She tells you that you’re enough responsibility. Dogs are messy.

You never get what you want.

Most of the morning time goes without a hiccup. You’re spelling new words, and your teacher even gives you a list to share with your mom. There’s also something called ‘adding’ and ‘subtracting.’ You haven’t quite gotten the hang of that yet. But, your new friend Robin understands. Her hand shoots up faster than anyone else in class.

By the time lunch rolls around, you’re all told to stand in a straight line at the front of the classroom. Mrs. Clark is leader. You stand with Robin somewhere in the middle, and await your turn to walk. Clutching your lunch bag, you’re excited to share what you have with Robin. She didn’t come with a lunch today, but rather a few dollars to pay for food.

The cafeteria is quite a ways down the hall. You pass by other classrooms that are also ready for lunch. Maybe you’ll find more friends from those classes. Where is Eddie?

When you get into the lunch room, the cafeteria is nearly bare. The children who have a lunch are instructed to sit at a table and to eat what they came with. You’re sitting down amongst a small group of girls that hardly pay attention to you. Their pretty bows wrapped in their hair and their nails all painted up tells you what you need to know.

“This seat is saved,” is also a clue.

You scoot down to give them room for their friend that will never come. Putting your lunch box on top of the table, you undo the straps to find what’s inside. Your mom has given you a sandwich with the crusts cut off. There’s a baggy of chips and a juice pouch. Your favorite flavor.

While you snack on the chips, the cafeteria begins to flow with more life. Eventually, you do see Eddie. He comes into the cafeteria with his own classroom. They’re rambunctious and awfully loud. Eddie heads for the long line to buy his lunch, but not before catching you sitting by yourself and he sends a wave your way.

You wave back at him, and hear the girls next to you snickering. Dropping your hand, you go back to hiding in your bag of chips. One of the girls leans to your ear;

“Do you like-like him or something? Is he your boyfriend?” She snickers. “He looks like a girl. Look at his hair! Do you like girls or something?”

“Eddie is my friend, and he’s not a girl,” your eyes begin to well up, but you take a deep breath before any of them fall.

“Aw,” she doesn’t miss a beat, “you gonna cry? Where’s your mommy?”

Robin approaches the scene just in time, as she overhears these pigs making fun of you. Slamming her tray in between you and her, she swings her leg over the bench.

“This seat is saved,” the girl scoffs, then puts her hand on the bench.

“I don’t see any name on it,” Robin sits hard onto the girls knuckles.

The girl yelps, and babies her fist.

“Are you going to cry?” Robin imitates the girl’s pouty lip.

“I’m telling!” The girl shouts in defeat.

“I’m not scared of you,” Robin rolls her eyes as the girl gets up. When she’s gone, she faces you, “you okay? Don’t let her get to you.”

“I’m okay,” you hold out your pudding cup. “Here.”

“Oh, wow!” Robin beams. “Thanks! You want my jello?”

“Sure!”

The two of you talk about not-so-important details of each other’s life. Robin’s bedroom has a red clock on the nightstand, and your bedroom used to be an extra closet before you were born. It’s all the same to you. Then, Robin tells you about her parents being business people. She’s not really sure what that means, but the house they live in is just down the street. She says she’ll talk to her mom, and maybe you can sleepover sometime.

You’ll talk with Robin throughout lunch, and then some more while you play on the structure outside at recess. The slide quickly becomes your favorite. Robin really likes the swings. While you push her on the swings, Eddie takes a turn on the one next to you two.

“Hi!” Eddie bounces into the seat.

You wave, “Robin, this is my neighbor, Eddie.”

“Hi, Eddie,” Robin twists about in the swing. “Do you want to play?”

“Okay,” Eddie taps your shoulder. “Tag, you’re it!”

Wind whipping in your face, you dart through the play structure after Eddie. Robin hugs the slide where you can’t see her, but her laughter gives her away. You tap on her shoulder because Eddie has grown much longer legs, and you’re too tired to find him across the field.

You dash away in Eddie’s direction. Screaming at the top of your lungs, you charge at him to yelling that Robin is ‘it’ now. Hugging a tree, you spin a few times, before Robin will give up and run after Eddie.

It’s not too long, before a few of Eddie’s friends join in on the fun. They’re older and much speedier than the two of you, but the chase is so rewarding.

Lungs burning. Heart pounding. A smile that cracks the sides of your lips. The only reason you stop the game is because a whistle blows in the distance. You're beckoned inside by your teachers.

"I'll see you later, Eddie!" You wave to him across the playground.

Eddie shouts from the line forming in front of his class, "Bye!"

-> <-

[July 1979]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92

[lexirosewrites]

Idk if ur gonna see this in time for slick sunday this week but here goes: a/b/o high fantasy might b my fave genre so ofc tht means I have a steddie brain worm abt it

Steve is the adopted omega son of the villages midwife, Claudia Henderson. She found him abandoned in the woods as a baby, an unfortunate but common practice for omega boys sometimes.

Their small village isn't far from the capital of the kingdom of Hawkins which is how the news of the summoning reaches their ears within days. The former king was cruel to be sure, and power hungry like he needed it to breathe. So he thought to strengthen himself w the help of a Demon, only he didn't read the fine print & got killed by said Demon & now the Demon is ruling Hawkins bc of right of conquest. Nothing changes drastically overnight but over the course of a year things improve in the kingdom of Hawkins. Their new king was cruel to his enemies but a fair & responsible ruler to his subjects. He established public education efforts for one thing, and opened up the knights ranks to commoners for another. Steve's life didn't change much, he still watched his baby brother & made his family their meals because Claudia was busier everyday tht spring approached, nothing rlly changed till the decree went out.

Tht all unmated omegas of a certain age range were to go to the royal palace for the celebration of their new kings first year of rule, where he will meet them & choose one of them to be his Consort.

Steve goes purely because it's a royal decree & he doesn't expect to make it very far anyway: male omegas r rare sure but they're not considered as fertile as a female omega & in a battle for the throne the ability to guarantee their king an heir must be key. So Steve goes & when he gets to the castle he's bustled in w all the other omegas into one room then this little blonde woman walks out, calls out certain names, & tells those ppl to leave. Steve is not told to leave. They're each given a room complete w a nesting frame & mattress (something tht is fancy to Steve who grew up in a village) as well as nesting materials. They're informed tht the king has scented a handkerchief for each of them to add to their nests. Sure enough atop all the blankets & sheets & paraphernalia is a simple white handkerchief tht smells like the smoke from the fire in his small homes hearth in Loch Nora with a hint of sweetness not unlike maple syrup. He sets abt making his nest to his standards i.e. comfort, comfort, comfort. He tucks in his adoptive mother's cotton headband she wore when working & his baby brothers knitted hat then can't decide where to put the kerchief from his king so he falls asleep holding it to his nose

ANYWAY THIS GOT LONG

So Eddie meets Steve & they fall in love & Eddie doesn't necessarily need heirs but he does need a mortal mate to tie him to this reality more solidly so he was planning to simply choose whoever wasn't repulsed by his scent bc to humans his scent is largely sulphur except Steve doesn't smell sulphur in Eddie's scent this can only mean one thing: Steve is the Demon kings soulmate

ofc Steve gets pregnant after they spend his heat together & he has a cute little half Demon baby w his doting Demon mate

royal au, demon eddie, soulmates!!!! 🥰🥰🥰

[ynbabe]

Fake texts au- pt.10 bffs with the rookies+ The Hangover III

I can't believe we're on part 10 already 😭😭😭

| Masterlist |

"How could I? I didn't have my phone?" the girl asked slightly panicked,.

"That's because you had mine," Lando spoke up, tapping on his phone, "You logged into your account from mine," he said showing it to the girl.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP ME?" She yelled.

"BECAUSE YOU GUYS KEPT RUNNING ONTO THE FUCKING ROAD AND LOGAN AND ARTHUR COSPLAYED SPIDER-MAN" He yelled back.

"Okay, okay," Max put his hands up to calm the two down, sometimes they were so similar he'd want to ask if Lando had a twin separated at birth, "Lando, what did she post?"

"oh oooh, this going to be fun," the boy said, switching to the girl's profile.

its_y/n_love

liked by 21,023 users

Tagged: @/arthur_leclerc @/logansargeant @/oscarpiastri

its_y/n_love me with my Pookie bears everyone say thank you Oscar for paying the Hospital bills 😍

view all 10,874 comments

usernamei SHES GIVINGGG

username she ATE

username they're her pookie bears 😭 she's so unserious I unironically stan her

username a grown woman calling grown men pookie bears 😒 username fr like oscar had to pay for HER hospital bills username he literally payed for Arthurs too but yall ain't gon say none abt that

its_y/n_love

liked by 501,023 users

Tagged: @/arthur_leclerc @/logansargeant @/oscarpiastri @/landonorris

its_y/n_love LANDOOOOOOOOO why he always with his boy tho 🤨

view all 20,874 comments

username omg she's literally living my dream 😫

username fr god i've seen what you've done for others

username omg she's freeloading off him now too?

username give it up she literally just their friend username and even if she wasn’t why would yall treat her differently than any other wag? username look at her man she's literally using them for fame and money

"Well, that wasn't as bad," y/n shrugged.

"That's cause you didn't have your camera roll," Logan snapped back, finally feeling a little more human, the hangover easing down.

"Look who's talking," the Aussie came to y/n's defence, "You're lucky you didn't have YOUR phone," Oscar called out, making the American's face turn red.

"Damnnn Oscar!" The girl praised, colour returning to his face, all were slowly returning to normal, even Arthur had found his way back to the table. Seeing this, the two older men Max and Charles ordered for the table, while Lando, went through more of Y/n's Instagram with the group.

"Honestly, the response isn't that bad, and our PR officers won't murder us, sooo we're good," he said, smiling and logging out of her Instagram account.

"Oh my god," The Monganeseque boy spoke up after being missing for almost half an hour, " I don't think we ate last night," he said shoving the food in his mouth.

The older men expected one of the other three to corroborate the boy's words but they just witnessed four twenty-somethings guzzling down food and large glasses of OJ, lifting plates to slide food into their mouths, letting runny egg yolks and bacon grease getting over their face and hands.

"Fucking hell," Max snarled, "it's like watching animal planet or something,"

"It's disgusting is what it is," Charles agreed, "MERDE ARTHUR, MAMAN RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THIS!" He yelled at his brother who was currently dipping a rolled up pancake in orange juice.

"Oh mate that's fucking disgusting," Y/n scoffed but then followed suit.

"Both of you are insane," Logan cried out, his accent thick, but failed to notice his own disgusting plate, dipping his bacon in maple syrup.

"ugh, there is something mentally deficient with all of you," Oscar frowned.

"Big words for someone mixing coffee into their oj," Lando cringed, taking a photo of the four and their disgusting eating habits.

"I- I can't look at this, I'm leaving," Charles gave up, holding up his hands in surrender, "I have a meeting at Ferrari anyways,"

"Bye, Charles!" the table chorused.

"Oh shit, it's 11am already?" Max called, looking at his watch, "I've got debrief at noon, see you next race, yeah Y/n?" He patted the girl's shoulder as he left.

"Never, again, ever." She yelled out, behind the man, making him laugh.

"Wait really?" The American looked over, bacon in hand.

"Nah, but like I've got uni and stuff and I've been going Arthurs races as well so, I'll probably be back by Britain or Netherlands," she explained.

"Oh yeah I forgot you still go to uni," Lando said.

"Not all of are millionaires cause of our fast vroom vroom cars," she spit back.

"yeah, yeah, " he waved off, "Oscar, Zak's told me to babysit you till our flight tomorrow so you don't do something or someone," he wriggled his brows, smirking at his teammate, making him roll his eyes, "you regret, so let's go and leave that disgusting abomination here," he said pointing to the coffee-orange juice.

"Guy's I don't know about y'all but I'm going go and pass out in the room till next year," The girl said, pushing away from the table.

"Same," The two boys followed.

oooooh this was ✨✨✨ but next we have the summer break chapter 🤭

Taglist: @dark-night-sky-99 @cashtons-wife @i-wish-this-was-me @thehufflepuffavenger1 @eugene-emt-roe @fangirl-dot-com

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 12

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

“How about it, Holly?” Steve’s voice brings you back from your trance.

You only realise then that you’ve zoned out. You look down at your plate, your burger half-eaten and the salad mostly gone. As your mom babbled on, you’d lost yourself staring out at the lawn. It didn’t really matter, she barely acknowledged you since you came out with dinner.

You glance between her and Steve, lost in the conversation already underway.

“I’d love that, it will be nice,” your mom answers, beaming across the table; the shade of the umbrella gathering in the lines of her face.

“How about you, kiddo? Grab you pajamas and join the party,” Steve looks at you.

“Huh?” You and your mom utter in unison.

“Both of us?” She asks in a brittle quaver.

“Yeah, sure, it’ll be a nice way to connect. Holly, I know you’re a mother first, it’s a package deal.”

“Mm, yeah, I just... I misinterpreted,” she puts her hand against her neck. “A sleepover, that’s fun.”

“I felt bad about last time. Don’t want anyone left out of movie night. I got popcorn, mph,” he turns to you again, “do you like cream soda? I got some cane stuff in the glass bottles--”

“That’s a lot of sugar,” your mother murmurs.

“It’s one night,” he shrugs, “it won’t hurt. Lots to go around.”

“I guess...” she forces a smile.

“Well, we can always hold off. I did promise ice cream,” he sits back and claps his thighs. “You all done?”

You stare at the table then look up in the silence. You don’t realise he’s talking to you. You nod. Your stomach won’t settle. It’s been off all day; you wonder if maybe the maple syrup was a bit too much yesterday.

“I’ll wrap it up for you, you can have it later if you want,” he stands and takes your plate, then your mother’s and his own. Where you nibbled through barely half, they had nothing left.

You sit back and cross your arms as Steve goes inside. Your mother sighs and glares past you. She’s annoyed even if you hadn’t made the decision yourself. You didn’t even accept the invitation.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“Whatever,” she rolls her eyes, “you just can’t help but get in the way.”

She leans forward. When she’s angry, her tremors worsen. She’s barely able to keep her head still.

“I didn’t...”

“Oh, be quiet. He only feels bad for you because he knows I can’t get rid of you,” she sneers. “He knows you have nothing go for you. No job, no friends, no hobbies.” She sits back and huffs, “I tried to raise you better. I really did. I don’t know what happened.”

You lower your head. Maybe you can come up with a lie. If you can find an excuse to leave, she won’t be able to hate you.

“I could say I’m not feeling well--”

“Just stay out of the way,” she snarls.

You sniff and turn away, hiding the gloss of tears in your eyes. Sometimes, you don’t do anything at all and she’s mad. You hear Steve coming back out and you wipe your nose, keeping your face down as you shrink.

You can be invisible. You’re good at that.

🏠

Not wanting to seem ungrateful, you accept a bowl of ice cream and finish it. Strawberry. It's delicious but you just can't enjoy it. You're uneasy, unsure.

You go to grab some pajamas, your mother issuing another warning before you return to Steve's. You wear a pair of polka dot bottoms and a jersey shirt. You'll just be watching tv, and hopefully, if you can settle down, sleeping.

Your mother sits on the couch. You can see the fatigue quivering in her lip and drooping in her eyelids. She never did as much before your new neighbour. You only ever stayed inside and wilted in the sunlight.

"Holly, you need anything?" Steve asks as he pushes up the ottoman, "how about you put your feet up. I just wanted to show her something."

"What's that?" Your mom asks.

"Oh, yeah, well, I know she likes art so I wanted to show her my studio. Or office, whatever you wanna call it."

"Mm, right. Upstairs, huh?" She grumbles.

"Right," he confirms, "we won't be too long. You can find a movie." He hands her the remote, "I had some extra pencils and stuff I found on the move. Figured she could take em off my hands."

"Sure, sure," she yawns and leans her head in her hands. You can't tell if she's witholding herself out of exhaustion or for Steve's benefit.

"Come on. We'll just pop up for minute," Steve nudges your arm.

You hug one arm across your stomach and push your shoulder up. You take his direction as he points you actoss the room. You go to the stairs and climb one by one.

Further down, he takes you into another room, just across from an open bedroom. You shuffle inside and can't help marvel at the interior. The walls are hung with still lifes in pencil, charcoal, and ink, and an easel stands by the window, a large drafting table at the center of the room.

"You do these?" You ask bluntly.

"Ha, yeah, I... when I saw your sketchbook, I admit, I got a bit excited. A fellow artist."

"You're an artist? You make money off of this?"

"Sure do," he smiles proudly. "Did some time in the army then had to get out, find some peace. Always found painting calms me."

"Oh."

"I wanted to say something sooner but I wanted to show you," he enters and brushes by you, hand dragging across your back. "Let me find those pencils."

You nod and pace cautiously around the table. There's an open sketchbook. A woman's naked back greets you, a piece of fabric draped around her hips as her refined profile is etched perfectly.

He's good. Better than you. You back away as he sorts through the shelf.

'Ah, here," he turns to you again, "pencils, sketchbook, oh and maybe you'll want these watercolours. I was sent two by accident."

"Oh, uh, thanks, but... you don't have to."

"You're talented. You'll make good use of them, I know it."

"Mm, I... try."

"There's this place I know. Great view. Maybe you can come one day. Good fodder," he offers. "Trees, water, and the sunset..."

"Maybe," you agree half-heartedly.

"Then maybe you can bring it to my next art show."

"Art show?" You mutter, eyes rounding.

"Sure. It'll be good for you. I know you take care of your mom and that's sweet but you gotta make your way. Eventually."

"I know," you slump and take the sketchbooks and flat tins from him. "Thank you. I..." you look at the brand names. You know they're expensive from the catalogues you look at but never buy from. "No one... these are so nice. I appreciate it."

"No problem, sweetie. Let me know if you need anything else. Hell, if you want a quiet place to work..." he stops behind you and looks around, "even just an escape..."

“That's okay,” you say as you go back into the hall.

You head back downstairs, the pencils clattering just a little in your hands. As you enter the living room, you hear a snort. Your mom's head lolls back against the couch as she snores. Steve walks into you from behind as he stops too late.

“Oop,” he frames your hips for just a moment as he presses again your back then parts. “Sleepyhead,” he chuckles and sidles past you, a waft of his cologne filling your lungs. He didn't smell so strongly before. “Well, guess it's your choice, sweetie,” he takes the remote and holds it out to you.

“Oh, uh, you choose,” you try to wave him off but he pushes the remote into your hand.

“You can put your stuff on the table,” he points to the sketchbook clutches against your chest, “better get cozy while I get the popcorn going.”

Before you can argue, he's gone. You turn to look at your mom. Why did she have to fall asleep? She could've said no to all of this, that she's too tired. Now it's you and Steve. Hopefully, the movie keeps the chatter to a minimum.

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

hey babe! (if you don't give me a name I'll keep calling you that)

thinking about modern Arthur who takes you horse riding so he can show you what he likes and he just be his normal arthur going all "good girl" and "that's my girl" with his mare and you just go insane for this man because WHY IS HE TALKING TO A HORSE LIKE THAT😭

You can call me babe all you want honey <33 AND FOR GOD'S SAKE. We never talked about it and this blog yet but like MISTER CLARK why did you speak to these horses like they were your fcking partners?? Not that I don't like it... Totally not searching for mares on purpose to hear Arthur praising me... HUM.

Arthur and you had been circling around each other for a while now. A simple customer at your Café at first, you had grown fond of each other as you remembered his habits and likings (always two shots of expresso, black, plus a pile of maple syrup pancakes on mornings, and a hot dog on afternoons). He had begun to come more and more often, always finding some time between his patrols as a Ranger; his steps always bringing him back "unpurposedly" in the area everyday. One thing leading to another, you had shared numbers and started texting, shyly at first than until late at night. Sharing music, dumb photos, witty lines and, when one of you felt bold, flirty ones.

Soon enough, the need for more private time together had imposed itself on you. You were both craving for more, more than just texting, more than just chatting at the Café, in the middle of everyone and every ears of town. Arthur had pushed back all his limits by inviting you to his family ranch. He was eager to share his passion with you.

A hand on your hip, he helped you jump on the saddle of his mare, a beautiful ginger-colored creature named Boadicea. Your hands were uncertain as you hold the reins; it had been a while since you'd last been horse riding. But your anxiety stops all of a sudden when Arthur cooed unexpectedly, sending an odd shiver all the long of your back:

"Yeah, that's a good girl."

Your heart jumped at his words. Not only because of them but the way he had spoken. His voice was even lower and deeper than usual, the rough edges of it diving dangerously into the dreamiest parts of your psyche.

You blinked a few times, realizing as he was patting his mare's head that he had praised her, not you. The first seconds of surprise passed, you actually found it quite endearing. He looked like she really was everything to him; gaze filled with love. You could see those sweet little glittering fireflies in the depth of his eyes when he looked at her. Like when someone looks at what is the most precious thing on Earth to them. Or those tiny sparkles of joy and excitement when they talk to you about their favorite subject, on the verge of shedding a tear. It was pure and utter affection. How could a man taking such good care of an animal could be a bad one? There was something about all his behavior and his relationship with his mare that made you feel even more safe around him, and even more persuaded he was the softest and sweetest of men.

The afternoon passed wonderfully. Arthur never missed any occasion to put his hands on you: helping you getting down or on the saddle, showing you how to hold the reins better, how to position your back the right way... You didn't know if he was doing it on purpose, but you clearly would not complain about it.

Of course, the day ended with a long time spent grooming Boadicea. Arthur had everything needed for her, a huge box filled with a dozen brushes and at least five different types of treats. He gently showed you how to tend her mane while he fed her, letting out once again his low and loving praising:

"Thaaat's ma girl. Yeah, the best girl in the world. Who did real' good, today? Yeah, that's you! That's you, sugar!"

The good girl in question was in Paradise, weighing happily as an answer to his praise, mouth hungrily devouring the treats he was giving her.

You couldn't help yourself and chuckle slightly. Both because it was really cute, seeing Arthur like this, and because something inside you was loving to hear his voice whispering sweet things like he did, even if it was not for you. You knew, you really knew it wasn't. But God did it felt good to hear. Your heart and, you had to admit, your body was craving to hear it again.

"Wha'? You think I'm a fool, don't ya?" He asked you when he heard your little laugh. Your eyes landed on each other's face, and you noticed his cheeks had turned a tad crimson as one of his hands was scratching his neck, his embarrassment apparent and making him even more adorable than before.

"No! Not at all..." A slight grin curled your lips upward. You couldn't miss an occasion for more teasing. "I just didn't know you loved Boadicea that much..."

Arthur laughed frankly and something in your brain turned the whole World into a Paradise when you noticed that his eyes were filled with sparkles. The sparkles. The same glimmers as earlier. The deepest affection, for you, just for you, even if just for a second. His blue pupils are drawn in it, and covering you with it, dragging you in this pure joy with it.

"You jealous or somethin'?" He asks you, his chest still slightly vibrating with the end of his laugh.

"Maybe, who knows..."

"Oh, well I could call you a "good girl" too all you want, darlin'."

The cheeky bastard had emphasized it on purpose, you knew it. This time, he was the one grinning and you, the one blushing. Your ego begging you not to go any further on that road yet, you tried your best to stay cool and composed whereas it was absolute chaos in your chest and between your thighs.

"Yeah, well, don't get too cocky about it." You simply answered, trying to stay evasive about the matter. But the beautiful red sunset painting your face was displaying for his desirous eyes was betraying you.

"Yes, Ma'am!"

Arthur's grin stayed glued to his face until the very last moment you saw him. You didn't know, at the time, but a very long series of praising and sensual whispering was about to begin on that precise day.