#sigh. i am...... feeling some familiar feelings. some numbness feelings

[dawnoftime22]

can i get a fluffy taylor request where reader(who is in a established relationship with tay) is bipolar and like- they are starting to hit a depressive phase? its not too bad or serious they're just numb and sleeping a lot and needing comfort and support? its fine if not. just know you're loved, take care of yourself

just be here.

| T.S

Warnings: Numbness / dissociation, R being stuck in bed and sleeping a lot, feeling guilt / small anxiety, more non verbal reassurances than verbal, shower scene with tay; sweet details only

Summary: As an empty day hits you, you end up with lots of sleep, and no productive things done. Taylor gets concerned, but takes loving care of you, with kisses and reassuring touches.

Word Count: 5.8k

Category: fluff, comfort, hurt/comfort (at the beginning if you squint?)

A/N: this isn't really a work of mine I'd say I like because it feels like a mess, but its the best I can do :') starting is a little slow, but it dives into the full comfort in the midday cut if you only want to read that<3

Request A/N: hey, if you're going through this, I understand. just know it won't last forever. I've gotten out of it just recently, it just takes time and care. sit and enjoy the little things for now :] I don't know much about bipolar disorder, but I am familiar with what you described, so this is mostly focused on that part<3 thank you so much for requesting with your lovely words! you're just as loved, if not, more!!

| Started on 08/11/2024, 10:32 AM |

| Finished on 12/11/2024, 12:13 AM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

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“I'll hold your hand through it.”

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The windows only had a dark blue color. Where the curtains were once covering the view of the dusk sky, they had been draped aside by gentle hands.

It was warm, and perfectly cold at the same time. You could feel the covers cozily upon your body. There was some more time to relish it in, right?

Your vision had caught only a glimpse of the blonde, going into the bathroom for perhaps a shower, just before you let yourself surrender to the void of darkness, once more.

When you woke up again, you realize the brighter light shining through the window, white and gleaming instead of the blue dusk color, and you knew what had happened.

You had slept in the day, once again.

A sigh leaves your lips and you reach for your phone by the nightstand, checking the time. It was 9:30 in the morning, where any minutes later, it would have been double digits on the screen.

You slumped into the mattress, your cheek getting squished against the pillow. That was it, your morning routine had fallen down.

There was nearly enough time for you to set your phone back down and close your eyes again, just to avoid even dealing with it all. Nearly. At least, until a gentlefamiliar voice sounds out from behind you.

"Hey, sweetheart," Taylor softly calls from the doorway, her hand going to rest on the doorframe after making her way from the kitchen. She could just barely see you, holding your phone rather than having your arms curled up as earlier, when you were sleeping.

"You're up?" she continued, tilting her head, but her voice questioned her own observations. It wasn't until you soon turned to face her that she could see you were awake. You shifted groggily, staying under the covers and pulling it up to keep yourself warm.

She smiles softly at you as her heart swells, her eyes traveling your sleepy face. You let out a slow breath, blinking drowzily at her, but soon, Taylor gently pushes herself off the doorframe, making her way to you.

"I didn't have the heart to wake you baby, you looked so adorably peaceful," she murmurs, going to crawl into bed to join you. She lays down beside you, gently pulling you closer to snuggle.

"...and cuddly," she adds, getting under the covers too, because it was getting cold, even with just the ceiling fan on.

You stretched your legs under the blanket with your body, eyes closed to then go into her embrace, burying your face into her chest.

Her hand comes into contact with your hair, fingers going through your strands soothingly. She gazes at you, noticing your quietness.

"I made us some breakfast," she whispered, staying in the cuddle for a little while before she shifts her position, her elbow resting on the pillow to prop herself up in a sitting position.

It was quiet for a moment, the fan humming gently in the silence. You wanted to respond, but it felt too early in the morning to even speak.

Taylor didn't mind though. She gently smooths your hair back, her hands being gentle with affection. "Theres eggs and bacon...some cut up apples..." she says slowly, pausing her movement. She could feel you burying your face further into her chest.

"I would ask if you wanna shower first...but the food would go cold," she adds, continuing the motion in your hair and leaning down to lay a soft kiss to your head.

She was about to think that you had fallen asleep, but then she sees you peeking your face out slightly, your cheek against her chest now.

Her lips raise up into the softest smile at the sight of you. "...Ready to get up yet?" she murmurs, seeing the way you haven't moved at all, other than your little head turn.

A yawn passes by your lips, but you let out the quietest protest of an elongated hum, nuzzling back into her. Definitely not because of a shower, and especially not because of the food your lovely girlfriend's told you she's made, but to getting out of bed.

"You're so comfy, huh?" She chuckles, seeing your pout, although there was a slight difference upon it that tugged at her curiosities.

She shifts slightly, trying to move and get up a little more. "Just a few minutes baby...then we can be all warm again, okay?" she says gently.

You melted into her, slumping further into her embrace and nearly holding on. Her eyes soften sympathetically at your stubbornness, but eventually saw the smallest, little nod.

She took that as a sign to get up, and she felt relief flow through her. Although she would have carried you out from bed anyway. Slowly, she untangles herself from you, moving to help you sit up.

She keeps her eyes on you as the both of you got out of bed. Standing up was groggy, but you managed it with her beside you, eventually making your way out the bedroom.

Her cats were hanging around, Olivia by the kitchen, eating out her cat bowl, finishing her food. The other two bowls were empty, Benjamin laying on the carpet while Meredith was probably somewhere in the music room instead of the living area.

You got to the dining table, seeing the plates had your breakfast all ready. The chair gently scrapes the floor, and you sat down, while Taylor went to pour some orange juice into some glasses— one for you and one for her.

When she comes back, you shifted in your seat to get comfortable, then picked up your fork, starting with the apple slices. She places your drinks on the table before she sat down herself.

You took a bite of a slice, and put the rest on your plate. She smiles softly, content in the moment. Her hand reaches out to grasp her drink, taking a sip and relishing the taste, then looking at you after she put it back down.

She watches for a bit, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. "You're quiet..." she whispers softly, the words slipping out faster than her mind can reach. She noticed the way your eyes went to her instantly, flickering with a milisecond of emotion.

"I'm sorry, its just..." you whisper, having had no intention to make her feel like you were treating her any differently. Or, anything. It might've been the only thing that could make your heart feel like sinking for the present moment.

"I don't have anything on my mind right now..." you mumble, staring down to your plate, pausing your eating. Taylor shook her head gently, quickly taking back her words.

"No, I don't mean it like that," she whispers. Her shoulders fell ever so slightly in regret, and a frown was on her face at how your mind jumped straight to thinking she meant it in a bad way.

She reaches out to gently grasp your hand, assuring you softly. "I don't mind it when you're quiet." Her eyes search yours, finding there to be a certain blankness within.

"I'm just...concerned, baby," she adds, worry growing into her heart. She gives your hand a gentle squeeze, starting to feel that something was off.

She then takes in a breath. "...You know, Olivia was in space yesterday," Taylor says suddenly, gently cutting the quietness and returning her hand back to herself. You missed the embrace of her warmth already, but you didn't say anything.

You blink at the sentence though, wondering if she thought of it due to you zoning out, or if it was just the first thing she thought of to say next.

"What?" you whisper under your breath, looking at her. She returns your gaze, hers softening instead of being fully concerned.

A chuckle leaves her raised lips. "Yeah, looking like shes flying through space. I mean, I took some photos if you wanna see..." she murmurs, grabbing her phone from the table, just beside her plate, flipping it to the front to unlock her screen.

You wait patiently, a setting your fork down to lean against the dining table, watching as she goes to her photos to find it.

She stifles a giggle when she did, then turned her phone to show you it.

Your eyes widened, and a smile, for once, rose up from your lips, joined in with a giggle. "Tay..." you whisper, all while she was laughing off her heart.

"Amazing, right? Like...that one rainbow cat. The nyan...nyan cat?" she adds, grinning widely at you. Your giggles turned into a laugh as you nod, agreeing with her reference.

Her heart swells at your joyous sounds, finally getting at least a single full smile out of you in success.

When you both soon finished up breakfast with some passing time, you had stood up, taking the plates to the sink to start cleaning them.

Taylor was finishing off her drink before she steps off to you and leans over to put the glass in the sink.

She then gently wraps her arms around your waist from behind, giving a small, gentle kiss to your shoulder before resting her chin atop it.

Your heart warmed at the sweet gesture. Her eyes watch you put the soap on the plates, cleaning off the grime and dust.

"...How about a warm shower later?" she whispers softly, her voice near your ear, her warm breath nearly tickling your skin.

You thought about it for a moment, then gave way to a gentle, "Yeah...sure." Taylor was smiling softly, resting her cheek then to the back of your shoulder.

You turn your body slightly, pausing the washing to give her a gentle kiss. Her smile grew wider, and she met you halfway in a tender gesture.

The shower later was warm, a slow, affectionate atmosphere. It kind of left you feeling unreal, like you weren't even in your current reality.

As Taylor gently puts the shower gel on your skin, you were spaced out, off onto the shower wall. You had already helped her clean, and now she was returning the gesture, which usually you would be adoring her features as she focused, but your mind was off, and it couldn't at the moment.

She notices your expression, unbothered, but not enough to count as nonchalant. You felt like you were a car, always set to neutral mode all the time, and the world seemed gray along with your feelings, aside from Taylor, being sweet with her love and radiating the golden sun's warmth.

Her hand carefully roams your skin, fingertips brushing by every part of you as the running shower's sound echoes through the bathroom.

Taylor then leans in to give your cheek a kiss, as soft as the warm steam going up. "You okay, sweetheart?" she whispers softly.

Your eyes travel to her, catching smoothly with ease. "...Yeah..." you whispered back, trying to give her a small smile, but even she could see through it, see the slightest hint of a stoic look in your expression.

Her lips turn to the smallest of frowns, but she gives you another kiss, this time on your shoulder once the shower gel was rinsed off, her eyes going down to focus back to cleaning your body. "Okay..."

When she finishes up rinsing off the last of the shower gel on your body, then letting you both soak in a bit longer in the warmth, she soon turns off the shower, the water no longer felt cascading down your body.

You reach for the towel, drying yourself off before stepping out the shower with the towel around you. Taylor did the same, following you, and slipping her hand to yours, intertwining your fingers before you go to the bedroom.

You get your clothes on, after the tensing of the cold air. As you adjusted the hem of your shirt to fit completely so it wasn't bundled up, Taylor came up behind you, since you were standing facing the bed.

Her finger comes up, giving a gentle tap to your shoulder. The touch was light, but it got your attention enough to turn around.

She held up one of her hoodies, which was her lover hoodie that she loved wearing often, now offering it to you for today.

Your expressions softened, and you nod, letting her help you slip it on, getting your head up the neckline and pulling the sleeves on your arms.

She smiles once she was done, stepping back with a proudness in her heart of you in her hoodie. It was a usual sight, but it never failed to reach her precious heart.

The smallest hint of a pink tint came up in your cheeks, and Taylor went to sit down at the edge of the bed, still looking at you.

You go to get in bed, but going to the pillows, laying down and pulling the covers back up your body.

Her gaze softens when she follows your trail, and she joins you, scooting beside you, finding that you were spending much more time being cozy.

She wraps her arms around you, pulling you in closer. A small silence, at least, goes for a little moment.

"...Do you wanna watch a movie with me? Or...come join me in the music room?" she whispers. The windows were still bright with the daylight, shining in through and making the room glow, but cozy enough to send you into a dozy state.

"I...kind of just wanna be in bed..." you whisper softly back, curling into her. She could feel your nose ever so slightly brush against her shirt.

"You sure, baby?" Taylor asks, her eyes searching your body language, and just a bit of your eyes she could see.

"Yeah...its okay, you can go write..." you say softly, pursing your lip. Then a soft yawn escapes your mouth that you had to cover with your hand.

"I'm sleepy..." you murmured then, snuggling closer to her and slowly letting your eyes close.

Taylor looks down with concern growing on her expressions, but her hand gently rubs your back. "Well...okay, sweetie," she whispers back.

The fan was humming with wind, keeping the room filled with air and a certain coldness. You couldn't tell if it was because of your dust colored blue walls, or if the fan was just too cold.

Another yawn passes by your lips, and you curled up further. You wanted to go back to sleep. It was so tempting. So cozy and cold, even if it was the afternoon already.

You couldn't resist...

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Taylor sat beside you after coming back from some songwriting.

She settled with nothing but only her own presence and your sleeping one. Her phone was on the nightstand. A book she was reading, was sitting over by the desk, and her guitar, was on its stand.

Her eyes search your figure from behind. You weren't even on the pillows anymore, you were in an odd horizontal position, curled up, like you were a cat.

She guessed you had been in and out of sleep, changing positions from the ruffled up look of the blanket and sheets.

She could see the dishelved look on your hair, and you didn't even have the blanket up your body.

A small breath leaves her soft lips. Her hand reaches for the covers, and she pulled them up, gently warming you up so you weren't going cold.

Before she could return back to her comfortable position, she soon heard some rustling from you stirring. She held her breath, freezing. But you were just turning around with your eyes still closed. Your arm had fallen to the bed once more in the roll of your body.

She lets her breath release in relief, realizing you were only moving in your sleep, your body urging to get comfortable.

When she leans back to the pillows, she gazes your face, her arm draped around your body. You seemed so sweet and peaceful, she almost didn't want to wake you at all.

But as much as she loved seeing you asleep and wondering what you were dreaming, she couldn't help the concern poking her heart. You may have simply needed the rest, but shutting down the whole day certainly wasn't something usual of you.

She wasn't upset with you. Not at all. She was simply aching at the thought that you were possibly struggling with something, but not wanting to tell her, or even maybe unable to describe it.

Sometime soon, the way your soft breaths turned more noticeable was a tell that you were waking up, along with your slowly opening eyes.

You let out a slow huff of a breath. Your body felt heavy. Your limbs were sore, and especially your legs and feet. You had been staying in bed for too long.

The feeling was still there. The blank feel of your own eyes, the feel of your heart. You swallowed the sleep in your throat, turning your head groggily, and your face peeking out from Taylor's chest.

She notices the movement, and looks down, tilting her head to see you. "...Sweetheart?" she whispers softly, her thumb going to gently rub your back.

You look up at her, a stoic looking expression on your face. You took a deep breath, then sighed softly, feeling the way your body sinks at the exhale.

She could see it. That faraway, distant look. Her eyebrows furrow, trying to put pieces together, of what could possibly have reason to your change of behaviour. But she stopped her mind, because maybe she didn't need to put a reason to it. Maybe she could just provide you your comfort and warmth.

What made it even worse was, you didn't even feel heavy. Maybe even floating, but you didn't feel like that either. You were grounded, present, but everything was like white noise.

You had showered in the morning, but because you had been napping, you didn't even feel clean anymore. Definitely not refreshed, either, even though you've caught all the sleep in the world.

"I'm sorry," you whispered softly, nuzzling into her. Her eyebrows furrow, and she looks down at you.

Taylor took in her own breath, pulling you in closer. "...Shh...It's okay...what are you sorry of...?" she whispers softly, knowing your lack of communication, meant something was off.

"Whats wrong, baby?" she asks softly, moving your stray strands of hair aside, keeping them clear from your eyes.

You curl up into her, snuggling in to find comfort in her embrace. You wanted to tell her. But the room was quiet. You could only feel the coldness of the wind, coming from the ceiling fan above you, brushing against your skin.

Everything seemed bare, felt like it was dull arrows piercing through an empty heart. You rest your head against the front of Taylor's shoulder, one arm around her while your other hand was fiddling with the fabric of her shirt.

Her hands go through your hair soothingly, waiting patiently for any sign that you would perhaps talk, but didn't mind not having an answer, at least knowing you were relishing all the comfort in her embrace.

She nuzzles into your hair, breathing in the scent of shampoo from the shower earlier, then contently sighed, closing her eyes and resting her cheek against you.

Your finger drew mindless circles, and your thumb went in a back and forth position here and there. "...What if it stays like this...?" you whispered. You then took a breath in, wanting to say further, but then you just exhaled it out shortly after, too tired to even say anything else.

She looks down at you, leaning back slightly. "Us, baby...?" she asks, wondering if you were relishing in the quietness. You shook your head.

"Me, sleeping constantly..." you murmur, the slight guilt etching into your voice. You hadn't done anything for the whole day,

"Oh...it won't, darling..." Her arms around you tightened, pulling you in closer. You lean into her, feeling the water in your eyes blur your vision, but you blink a little, and they were gone the second they came.

"...Just...I feel useless...and I didn't do anything today, or hung out with you." Your voice was getting quieter, smaller, possibly even along with how you were shrinking into her, burying your face into the crook of her neck.

She brings her attention to her thoughts, going through all the words in her mind. "You did things with me today. You got up from bed, ate your breakfast, showered...thats enough for me," she reassures you, letting out a soft breath.

"...You know, its normal to get some extra rest...even if you feel like you haven't 'done enough' to get up to that point," she whispers, laying a kiss atop your head.

"Its okay. You can just stay here with me for now," She whispers, resting her chin where she kissed afterwards, making you feel the warmth of her embrace enveloping you.

You heard her murmur, but you slump ever so slightly. "But when will it stop?" you whisper, one of the other problems tugging at the veins of your heart.

Her soft, non audible sigh was provided with an ache in her heart. "I don't know either, sweetheart..." she tilts her head down, looking into your eyes. "And thats okay. You don't always have to worry when it ends, maybe it'll just...happen," she whispers, nuzzling into your nose.

"...It happens with me too, you know..." she says, remembering all the times shes come back home from her shows, or an interview. You look up at her, searching her eyes. She smiles softly, giving you a gentle kiss. "And you've seen that I always turn out better...because you were always beside me."

The quietness goes for a moment, but now with a small drop of comfort, filling the space, some minutes for you to linger on her words. She gazes off to the doorway of your shared bedroom, deep in thought.

"Do you want something to eat...?" she whispers slowly, leaning back slightly to see your face. It had been hours since breakfast already, and she knew lunch was coming around.

Your stomach did feel empty. You hadn't noticed it until now. But you nuzzle back into her. Her arms instinctively tighten around you, a smile tugging on her lips.

"Its comfy..." you murmured. You certainly didn't want to let go, especially with the covers being as warm as Taylor, acting like a shield to the cold.

She gives another kiss to the top of your head, struggling to resist her smile. "Baby...as much as you look adorable, buried in the covers looking like a teddy bear..." she trails off, her eyes traveling down to you.

"Maybe you can be just as cozy when you're out of bed?" she suggests gently, tilting her head. Her thumb gave a sweet caress on your back.

You look into her eyes, hesitant on her gentle urging. The floor seemed too grounded for your feet, but the bed was also too soft for you to stay any longer without feeling the soreness.

After some consideration, you soon accept it with a gentle nod, the churning in your stomach unable to stay unnoticed anymore.

She smiles, ever so slightly, sitting up to start getting up from the bed. You felt a twinge of disappointment at the loss of warmth, but you follow her as she helps you.

You let out a gentle sigh when you sat at the edge of the bed. Taylor waited patiently when she stood up, her gaze gentle over your face. Her hand held yours, keeping touch.

You could feel a gentle squeeze, giving you reassurance before you finally will yourself to stand up. Although maybe a little too fast, causing you to blink at the dizziness and lean yourself against her.

She held you gently, her hand slipping out of yours quickly to wrap her arms around your waist, keeping you steady.

Whats worse is, you didn't even feel tired. You had feelings, but they weren't felt in your heart. There was sleepiness evident, but not tiredness evident. You were simply living in your body and drifting through time.

The world fell quiet, for once. But almost too quiet. Your ankle had pressure as you took your steps forward, and Taylor could see the slight disorientation mustered on your face, so she kept her eye on you, walking with you.

"Slow steps, baby," she whispers, concern etched on her face as she guides you. The deja vu of the moment was starting to run over your mind.

When you got to the kitchen, you sat at the barstool, while Taylor went off to open the cabinets, looking at the options to then take a glance to you.

"Toast or something else, baby?" she asks softly, her hand still holding on the handle of the cabinet. You turn your head up to her, blinking.

"Toast," you answered quietly. Taylor nods, and grabbed a plate, preparing it for you with your favorite spread on the bread.

Once she was done carefully setting it, she sets the plate down in front of you with a gentle clink, then smiled softly, leaning against the kitchen island.

You look to it, then lean forward a little, reaching out to take the toast into your grasp and put a bite into it.

As you chewed, you stare down at your sandwich in your hand, but couldn't help space off to the side a little, or the marble top of the island. You couldn't tell.

A quietness overlays the room. Taylor's eyes roam your expression before she rounds the island to your side, sitting beside you on another barstool.

"Maybe, if you want, we can sit outside for a little bit, you know?" she says softly, resting her arm on the kitchen island, along with her cheek against her palm.

You look at her, getting out of the zoned out state as she gently pulls you back to reality. At the same time, needing to swallow the bread in your mouth and take another bite as she watches.

"Have some hot chocolate..." she suggests softly, trailing off with a gentle smile growing on her face, her eyes going to you. She had made the corner of your lips have the smallest raise.

Taylor waits a little longer, seeing the wheels turning in your mind. "...Hm...?...is that okay with you?" she murmurs softly, in search of confirmation.

You think about it for a moment. Going back to bed seemed so nice. But having hot chocolate in the sun with Taylor? It was...an equal deal. Most times you didn't even need to think about such an offer like that, but even you couldn't figure out what was wrong with your current mind, if there was anything that needed to be identified.

A breath slowly leaves you, and you gave in with a nod, along with a small raise on the corner of your lips that didn't reach your eyes. "Sure."

She fully smiles now, and gives a nod of her own. "Good, I'll make the hot chocolate while you eat," she says, getting up to return to the kitchen counters.

You could hear the creaking of the cabinets, the pouring of hot water, and the gentle clinking of small spoons, stirring against the mugs.

It kept you focused on her, seeing her every move as she made the simple recipe of a warm beverage, easily fit for the midst of days like these.

Once you finish your sandwich, you put away the plate in the sink, although deciding to wash it later since there will be mugs too, now.

Just as you were finished, Taylor was too, and she had gestured to you your drink beside her on the counter, her hand still stirring her own.

You take some steps over to her, your hand about to reach out for the drink. "Careful, baby...its hot," she warned gently, wanting you to be careful.

You look to her, but then gently wrapping your fingers around the mug's handle. "Its called hot chocolate, anyway..." you say, the smallest smile on the corners of your lips, but it elicited a giggle out of Taylor, her head nodding in agreement. "True," she says.

You walked over to the front door, unlocking it and opening it slowly. The sunlight was shining down on everything, making a bright glow against the wooden porch. It was also going to be the sunset soon, too.

Taylor was about to join you in going outside as she followed, but got distracted by a nearby Benjamin, who had gotten curious of the front door opening.

His blue eyes stared gently right back up to her own, and she couldn't help but smile, bending down to gently pick his body up with her free hand.

Then, she joins you, stepping out the house and sitting down beside you on the clean steps of the porch. You were gently blowing on your hot chocolate, although there was a part in you that had an urge to simply take a sip, you remember Taylor's sweet warning.

She settled down with Benjamin, now laid down on her lap comfortably. Once she got comfortable, she puts down her mug, making sure it wasn't in a place where it could be knocked over.

You took some gentle sips, although it was still steaming hot, you could feel the warmth of the hot chocolate, running down easily through your throat, a soothing feeling that sank to your body.

Taylor glances to you, her eyes gently roaming your features and expression. She takes a moment, just a few, before she shifts closer and reaches her arm around you, pulling you closer just a little.

You blink slightly at the pull, but you lean into it eventually, melting into the side of her shoulder. Benjamin noticed, his ears tilting a little, but then he goes into your lap instead, resting cozily, purring. You could feel it.

It almost only made you feel sleepier. But in the comforting way, like the sunshine on your face, melting away the cold.

A gentle smile turns up on her face as she looks at you, then wraps her arm around you, comforting you with her touch.

She could see the relaxation going through you, finding solace in her presence as she simply sits there, peacefully with you. Maybe you didn't need anything else right now. Maybe you didn't have to do anything, but just be present.

Her thumb gently rubs your shoulder through your shirt, and she leans her head against yours, turning to give a lingering kiss before getting comfortable again.

She watches the birds fly in the sky, returning to their home or go to find food. "...Baby?" she starts with a whisper, gently catching your attention to her.

You turn your head to look at her, seeing she had leaned back slightly to look at you properly. "...Mm?" you responded with a questioning hum.

She stays quiet for a moment, simply searching your eyes, as if she was trying to read your thoughts.

"...Can you tell me something, honey?" she asks softly, her other hand coming down to gently slip into your own hand, intertwining your fingers. You gave her a gentle nod, wanting her to continue.

A bit of her lip gets captured by her teeth, but then she lets go to speak quietly, treading carefully. "Do you need anything?"

You thought about the question, your eyes slowly blinking through it, and there was a near furrow in your eyebrows, but eventually her question was answered. "...Just you."

A small smile grew on her lips, but the breath in she took told that she had more to say. "Okay, then be honest with me on this one," she continued, her voice a little more serious, but still soft and sweet.

You stay quiet, waiting for her next words. "What's going on...hm?" she asks with a slight tilt of her head, her hand that was on your shoulder going down to find ground on the wood of the porch.

Your eyes divert from her gaze the second her question came out, a small breath escaping you slowly, but your free hand went to Benjamin's soft fur.

Her face softens, seeing the way you turned away, and she gave a gentle squeeze to your hand. "You don't have to tell, and I won't judge...but I'm worried. I mean, aside from all the sleeping..." she murmurs, knowing there was something else.

You take a moment to respond, your teeth sinking into the side of your lip. You didn't want to answer. You didn't know how to. But it was Taylor, and if anyone could understand your feelings the most, it was her.

Your shoulders lowered slowly with a breath, your eyes downcast. You gathered your words before you softly spoke. "...I don't know whats happening anymore, Tay."

Your gaze returned to her, your eyes squeezing slightly in sadness as you then lean your head against her shoulder. "I feel so...sleepy...but I've gotten so much sleep."

Her hand rubs in a soothing up and down motion on your shoulder, pulling you closer before she gives a kiss to your head, listening closely.

You sighed. "...I don't know. Its...everything is just...gray. I can't find...passion. And not even music helps..." you continued, with your last words being quiet, and then you slumping into her in defeat.

Taylor's heart broke at the heaviness your shoulders seemed to be holding, even if it didn't show, or didn't felt like it was there.

But she took her heart's love, trying to help you find your way back. "Its okay if you end up not being able to feel things sometimes, you know..." she whispers softly.

"I mean, its...not great, but you're still here, aren't you? Being present, still giggling every once in a while even if its hard." she says softly, a small smile coming up on her face to reassure you, and you did feel your heart soften.

"Maybe your brain's just trying to protect you, from big feelings, but it doesn't know how much to reduce?" she pauses for a moment, her mind wanting to be careful with her words. A breath of air goes through her lips.

You frown, hugging her closer and going closer the best you could with Benjamin in your lap. You could still feel the purring. "I don't like it..." you murmur, hating that you couldn't seem to feel anything, nearly to the point that you were even beginning to think it was becoming your personality. But Taylor knew it wasn't that.

"I know...but it won't last forever, sweetheart," she reassures you softly, her arms tightening around you. Her embrace held her love.

"Your passion will come right back to you sometime soon, and maybe you'll even blink and its right there again." The words were simple, a gentle but clear meaning to you in your mind as Taylor gazes off to the neighbourhood.

"Maybe we don't have to...do anything...we can just...sit," she whispers, relaxing slowly with you. She could feel your own body, melting away the tension.

"...And I'll be right here, beside you." Her murmur was quiet, leaning back and tilting her head to look at you, then kiss your cheek, a breath of near relief escaping you as you bury your face into her.

"Its okay."

"We're gonna be okay, baby."

----------------------

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[kalashtars]

google how to google 'how to feel alive' without getting the most bullshit answers possible

[futurewdclandonorris]

Man or Machine | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: after you leave your date unsatisfied, you return to your apartment thinking you'll once again have to take care of yourself on your own when your roommate catches you and offers you a better solution, himself

Warnings: smut

Word count: 8.4k

The flickering street lights cast long shadows as you trudged up the stairs to your apartment, the echo of your footsteps punctuated by the sigh of defeat escaping your lips. The date hadn't gone as well as you’d hoped. In fact, it had been a complete disaster.

The guy was handsome enough, but once you met in person, there had been no chemistry between you. And when it came down to it, the sex was mediocre at best. You cringed at yourself as you unlocked your apartment door and stepped inside, feeling a sense of frustration and self pity.

“You’re back early,” your roommate munched from the couch.

You had been looking forward to your date for weeks, imagining all the ways how it would be different from your usual nights spent pleasuring yourself. But as always, reality has fallen short of your expectations.

“Am I?” you sighed and ran a hand through your messy hair. Maybe you were just doomed to a life of unsatisfying hookups and lonely nights. Maybe you were just bad at this whole dating thing.

“How was the date?” he asked as if he didn’t even hear your previous input, putting chips in his mouth.

“Good.” You glanced at him from the hallway, sprawled on the couch of your shared living room with a bag of chips resting casually on his belly.

“Yeah?” He raised his eyebrows like that was brand new information.

You kicked off your shoes and made your way past him. “So good I couldn’t wait to come home and tell you all about it,” you replied sarcastically, mustering a half-hearted grin as you made your way to the kitchen. The cool light from the refrigerator washed over you as you rummaged through its contents, searching for something to numb the ache of your failed evening.

“Well,” he began with a mouthful. “At least you’re consistent.”

“Thanks for the pep talk, Lando.” You rolled your eyes as you closed the fridge after not finding anything that caught your interest.

"Hey, don't mention it," Lando said, his voice laced with amusement. You couldn't help but smile at his attempt to cheer you up, even if it fell short of its mark. 

His nonchalant demeanor irked you, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions raging inside of you, only intensifying the need for release you were so yearning for. A twinge of jealousy couldn't be avoided at his laid-back attitude towards life. As if everything were so simple for him, as if he had never experienced the bitter taste of disappointment that now lingered in your mouth.

“Any plans for the rest of the evening?”

“No, I think I’m just going to shower and head to bed.” Not.

You needed to do something about yourself, and you needed to do it fast. Lando only shrugged, his attention already back on the television as you retreated to your room.

And once again, you stood in your bedroom, alone and preparing to take matters into your own hands. You stripped down from your outfit and changed into a baggy t-shirt that almost reached your knees. You turned to your dresser and opened the first drawer, reaching for the familiar object hidden amongst your clothes. The soft hum of the vibrator greeted you as you pulled it out, its sleek surface cool against your skin. You took a deep breath in, getting ready to put it into use when the door of your room suddenly swung open.

“Hey, I’m making a little something for me and I saw you checking the fridge—Is everything alright?” Lando questioned when he saw you spin around so quickly that you knocked some of your belongings off the dresser while doing so, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah!” your voice unintentionally came out a bit higher pitched than intended, your right hand holding the toy firmly behind your back. “You just startled me, that’s all.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced by your flustered response. His gaze flickered from your flushed face to the items strewn across the floor. “Uhm, okay. As I was saying, I’m making a little snack for myself so I was wondering would you like some as well?”

“No, I’m fine,” you replied, gripping the vibrator so strongly as if you were trying to crush it and make it disappear. Food was the last thing on your mind, your desire for something far more urgent and primal consuming your every thought. You could see the curiosity in Lando’s eyes, a glint of suspicion dancing in their depths.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, taking in your disheveled appearance and the way you were trying to conceal something behind your back.

“Are you sure?” he pressed, taking a step into your room. His eyes flicked to the item still hidden behind your back and he arched an eyebrow. “What’s that behind your back?”

You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of shame and panic rising within you. Your heart pounded in your chest, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. How could you explain this to him? How could you possibly articulate the overwhelming need that drove you to seek solace in the buzzing vibrations of your trusty toy?

“Nothing!”

Lando’s eyes narrowed at you. “Nothing, huh?” he repeated, taking another step forward. Despite the cool hum of the vibrator still buzzing softly in your grip, you tried to muster up a convincing smile. But Lando wasn't buying it this time. He was always good at reading you, even when you didn't want to be read.

"I... It's nothing, Lando," you stammered, a blush creeping up your neck. "Just... personal stuff."

A knowing smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he took another step closer, his gaze flicking to your hand that gripped the object tightly.

"Personal stuff, huh?" he repeated, his smirk growing into a full-fledged grin. His eyes held a mischievous glint that made your stomach twist with a combination of nerves and something else you couldn't quite place. You were so sure he was going to tease you mercilessly, to make you feel even more embarrassed and exposed than you already did.

“Come on, just show me,” he said gently, his voice turning soft and understanding. Reluctantly, you slowly brought your hand out from behind your back, revealing the sleek toy that had been your source of comfort and release for so many lonely nights.

Lando's eyebrows shot up in surprise, a mixture of shock and amusement flashing across his features. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence hanging heavy in the air as you braced yourself for his reaction.

"Oh wow, I thought I'd seen everything. So that’s how you spend your free evening," he chuckled. “That bad, huh?”

You couldn't help but feel a surge of embarrassment at the situation, standing there exposed with your secret pleasure in plain sight. Lando's reaction was not what you had expected; his laughter disarmed the tension that had been coiled tight within you. A nervous chuckle escaped your lips as you felt the pressure on your shoulders start to lessen, realizing the ridiculousness of the situation.

“I-I... Yeah…” you stumbled over your words, unable to form a coherent sentence to explain yourself. The vibrator still buzzed softly in your hand, a stark reminder of your failed attempts at finding satisfaction elsewhere.

“Want to… talk about it?”

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond to Lando’s unexpected offer. Opening up about your intimate struggles was the last thing you had planned for that night, especially to your roommate, who you had never discussed such personal matters with before. But something in the way he looked at you made you reconsider.

“I mean, it just wasn’t satisfactory… enough.” you confessed.

“Wait, did he even make you cum?” he blurted out, a look of shock and mock anger crossing his face.

His boldness was so amusing, it made you laugh. “He did, once. But I wanted… more. But he couldn’t…” Your voice died out, leaving you at a loss for words to convey the odd combination of longing and disappointment you felt.

“God, I don’t know what’s worse: leaving your girl unsatisfied or not satisfying her enough. Even if he couldn’t fuck you there were still many ways he could’ve pleased you. But he didn’t, did he? And now you’re stuck doing it yourself.” Lando pointed out disapprovingly.

“It’s not the first time, honestly,” you wish you bit your tongue cause only when the words left your mouth, you realized the admittance didn't make the situation any better at all. 

“No? How many times have you done this?”

“Too many too count,” you sighed.

“You want to tell me that every time you would return home you would go to your room and do… this?” Lando asked, gesturing towards the vibrator.

You nodded, feeling ashamed of your confirmation.

“Geez, what kind of guys were you going out with?”

“I guess just guys who didn't know how to make me feel good. They were all so focused on their own… pleasures that they didn't care if I was satisfied or not.” Your voice had a blend of sadness and frustration as you spoke.

“Evidently,” he remarked.

“Yes, so, if you don’t mind, would you kindly leave so I can finally get to it?” You held out the vibrator, your hand shaking slightly at the audacity of your request, and he looked at it thoughtfully.

“Are you serious?” he exclaimed, frowning a little.

“Uh, yeah?” You replied, feeling even more self-conscious.

“Wouldn’t you like something a little more… I don't know, sophisticated?” Lando offered with a smirk.

“What do you mean?” You asked, intrigued by his suggestion.

“I mean, why would you use toys when you have a fully capable man living with you?” His eyes darted from the vibrator clasped in your hand back to your gaze, and he nibbled on his bottom lip with a suggestive hint.

You blinked in surprise and confusion, struggling to process his words. Was he really suggesting you use him, instead of a toy, to satisfy your needs? It was a bold proposition, one that completely caught you off guard.

Lando must’ve seen the wheels spinning in your head because he quickly added, “I mean, if that’s what you really want, I’m willing to help.”

You felt a strange mix of shock, embarrassment, and fascination coursing through your veins. It was such an unexpected request that you honestly didn’t know how to react. On one hand, you were deeply humiliated by the idea of using Lando as a replacement for your vibrator, but on the other hand, there was a tantalizing appeal to the taboo nature of it. And even more so, the idea of having your most intimate needs met by someone you were close to, rather than a cold, unfeeling piece of plastic.

You found yourself looking deep into Lando's eyes, feeling the intensity of his gaze and the unspoken promise of pleasure behind it. For a moment, you thought of all the times you had used the vibrator alone, wishing there was someone to share the experience with. Maybe Lando could give you that.

"I, uh... I didn't think..." You trailed off, unsure of how to respond. The vibrator, now heavy in your hand, felt almost like a burden at that moment. “Uh, okay,” you said finally, the words barely escaping your lips. “Let’s see if you can do better than this.” you shook the toy in front of him.

Lando grinned, a wicked glint in his eyes as he stepped closer to you. “Trust me, I can do much better than that,” he replied confidently, towering over you.

You felt an unexpected surge of lust at his challenge, your heart pounding in anticipation. He was right, there was no comparison between a machine and a living, breathing human being. All the times you had used the vibrator, you had longed for the warmth and intimacy of a real connection. And now, here was Lando, offering himself to you without any reservations.

“Show me what you’ve got then,” you breathed, raising your eyes to meet his.

Lando lifted his hand and dragged his thumb over your mouth. Your lips fell agape following his movement, a silent gasp caught in your throat. His fingers moved down your neck to your chest, then lower and up again, tracing the delicate contours of your skin. Not being able to help yourself, you moaned softly, your eyes fluttering shut as he continued his tour.

It was pathetic, in a way. He barely touched you and you were turning into a puddle underneath him. You couldn’t believe how your body was reacting to his simple touch, how he could make you feel with so little effort.

He got a hold of the side of your face, his firm grip pulling you towards him until there was no space between you. His eyes never left yours, gauging every minute response. Involuntarily, you raised your chin, impatient to close the remaining gap between your lips and his. Lando lowered his head just enough to have his lips hovering over yours, your gesture drawing a slight smirk from him, a devilish little smirk that made your heart skip a beat even more. 

Then, with a gentle yet firm pressure, his lips met yours. It was like an explosion of senses, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. The warmth of his mouth, the softness of his lips, the velvety texture of his facial hair, they all fused together to create an unmatched sensory experience.

He pulled away just when you were leaning in for more, making him chuckle. “You won’t need this anymore, darling.” he whispered over your lips, peeling the vibrator from your hand and putting it away.

Your now free hands reached for him and pulled him back in for another kiss, this time more urgently, more passionately, and his tongue pressed against your bottom lip, seeking entry. Your heart raced as you allowed it inside your mouth, tasting him, feeling him.

His hands roamed your body, exploring every inch of you, igniting a fire in your every nerve ending. You found yourself shuddering, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that this could be possible with a man you lived with, one who you shared meals and chores with. But there he was, passionately kissing and caressing you with an intensity that left you breathless.

You felt his hands slide under your shirt, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist, the indent of your navel and the swell of your hips. You arched into his touch, pulling him even closer by the hair, desperate for more and he met you with equal fervor.

His lips moved down your neck, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses that made you moan softly. “I promise to make this worth your while,” he murmured against your skin, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You wrapped your arms around his neck in response, drawing him closer, not doubting his promise as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth, tasting you thoroughly. Your pulse raced as he began pulling up your shirt, the tips of his fingers skimming over your sides, and you raised your arms for him to take it completely off. You were left only in your panties before him, watching as his eyes darkened as they took in the sight of your naked body, his gaze lingering on the curves and contours of your breasts.

He didn’t say anything, but snaked an arm around your waist and picked you up with ease with his other. Your legs locked around him and he carried you to your bed where he gently laid you down on the soft sheets, his mouth never leaving yours. You were both in a state of heightened arousal, your bodies screaming for each other. 

He pulled back slightly, taking in your flushed face and throbbing lips, and a smirk tugged at his lips. Then, his hands began their journey once again and he dipped his head to your neck, nibbling and sucking gently before moving to your chest, sucking and biting your nipples. You moaned as his fingers teased your sensitive buds, his tongue tracing the outline, sending shocks of pleasure one after another.

Your breath hitched as he moved lower, kissing and licking his way down your stomach, his hands sliding down your sides to the waistband of your panties. He tugged at them gently and you lifted your hips to help him take them off, but he pushed you back down again, keeping you there. You reached down to remove them yourself, but Lando stopped you with a firm grip on your hand. You looked up into his eyes, wondering what was going through his mind. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Patience, my dear. I’m going to make sure you enjoy every second of this.” His words made your heart skip a beat, and you could feel dampness seeping into your panties. “And with me, you can cum as many times as you want.”

You bit your lip, trying to contain your excitement as his hands traced the delicate line of your inner thigh, and you shivered under his touch. With each small movement he was building anticipation, the delay only making you crave his touch more.

He was back on giving his attention to your tits, feeling their weight, squeezing them gently and kissing them all over. You gasped as his teeth scraped lightly over your nipples, feeling your pussy clenching in response. Lando then moved back up, his eyes never leaving yours as he kissed his way up your body, stopping just to lightly bite and suck your collarbone. You arched your back, moaning hard, wanting his lips to be everywhere at once.

“Fuck, Lando, please…” you gasped, your breath short.

He smiled wickedly, his teeth flashing white in the dim light. “Just wait, baby. I’m going to give you everything you want, fulfill your every fantasy and desire.”

His tongue darted out to lick your nipples, one by one, your breath stopping in your throat as he did so. He attached his lips to one of your erect nipples, gently biting it while trailing his fingers between your legs. You trembled in his grip, your core aching for his touch, your desire growing more intense with each passing moment.

You bucked your hips against him, desperate for him to finally touch you where you need him the most. Your nipple popped out of his mouth with a soft pop and he moved to the other, repeating the process. Your breaths came out ragged and short, your body screaming for release. Finally, he broke away, but only to position himself better above you.

“Open wide,” he instructed, tapping your lips with his two fingers, waiting to insert them in. “Suck, make them nice and wet for you.”

You opened your mouth, releasing a shallow gasp as his fingers gently entered your sensitive wetness. The pressure and the warmth of his fingers thrilled your whole body as he probed deeper, smoothly gliding in and out of your entrance. You began to suck on his fingers, mimicking the rhythm of his strokes.

He pulled away, bringing his fingers in front of your face. “Good fucking girl,” he praised and filled your mouth with the fingers of his other hand. “You’re gonna have the time of your life.”

He lowered himself so he was right face to face with your tits and began rolling your nipples in between his now moist fingers. The sensation was dizzying, and your entire body shook as he continued to tease you, knowing that he had the power to unleash an orgasmic storm. You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, adrenaline and arousal coursing through your veins as he pulled them up and then released, watching your breasts jiggle as they fell. Your breath was shallow and ragged with every pinch and twist, and you felt as if you were on the edge of a cliff, about to jump into the abyss of pleasure.

“Fuck, Lando, I could cum,” you squirmed, your back arching into him.

He chuckled deeply, a wicked grin on his face. “Oh, baby, you haven’t even begun to feel my touch yet.”

His rubs on your nipples intensified as if he was really trying to see if he could make you cum from that alone. You moaned and writhed beneath him, your body aching for more. He knew what he was doing to you and he was enjoying every moment of it.

Slowly, he began to trail his fingers down your body, re-familiarizing himself with every curve and dip, his lips following the path of his hands. He paused at the apex of your thighs, his knuckles brushing over your panties, causing you to gasp and shudder.

Suddenly, he backed away and sat against the headboard. “Come here,” he patted the space between his legs and you crawled to him. “Turn around, rest your back against me, that’s it,” he instructed, helping you adjust your position. You could feel his warmth against your back, his erection pressing against your lower back. He rubbed your shoulders for a bit before his hands made their descent once again, his thumbs brushing past your nipples and down your sides, tracing the curves of your waist.

He tugged on your hips, urging you to slide down his crotch. He settled his hands on your lower back, pressing you against him, allowing you to feel the full length of him. You couldn’t help but moan, feeling his hardness, your body responding to his commanding presence.

“Spread your legs for me,” he ordered, and you did so, your heart racing at his command. He began to rub your inner thighs, his fingers tracing the line of your panties. You felt his breath on the back of your neck, his hot breath making you shiver slightly. 

“You’re so wet, so receptive,” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “I want to feel you come apart.”

Your hips responded under his touch, arching up, your need for him growing more intense with every second. With one hand, he held you down, pinning you against him as his other hand continued to explore your most intimate parts. His fingers danced across the fabric of your panties, teasing you mercilessly. He kept his promise of a slow, sensual build-up, but your body was hungry for him, eager to be consumed by the passion he had promised.

"Please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper, "take them off, touch me."

Your hips bucked again, unconsciously grinding against his hand. Lando's eyes turned a darker shade of green following your reaction, and you could see the hunger in his gaze. He pressed his digits over your clothed pussy, this time pressing harder, rubbing your wet flesh through the delicate fabric. Your juices flowed freely, his hand slick with your arousal.

Your back arched up, your head thrown back on his shoulder, your eyes closed tightly, lost in the sensations that were flooding your body. You were on the verge of the most intense climax of your life, and you knew it.

He gently pushed your panties to the side, exposing your glistening, swollen folds. His fingers trailed along your skin, sending sensational shocks through you. His eyes took in every detail, every curve and color. You were so beautiful, and his heart pounded harder at the sight. He reached up to kiss you, his lips demanding, possessive, yet tender. Your hands clawed at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

And then finally, finally, he tapped your clit lightly with his fingertips causing your entire body to jolt in response. He knew exactly what he was doing, it was maddening. Your muscles tightened, your breath hitched and you knew this was the moment you had been waiting for, the moment when he would take you to the edge of ecstasy and push you over.

“Lando,” you moaned his name softly, your voice trembling with longing. “Oh, please.”

“Almost there.” With one hand, he held you in place, the other began to circle your clit, gently at first, then mounting in pressure as your breath grew shallower and hips moved against him.

He cupped your pussy in his hands, spread wide open for him. The sight was a feast for his eyes, and the feel of you, wet and open and squirming under his touch, sent a deeper lust coursing through him. His finger found your entrance, sliding through your juices, coating itself completely. Lando's finger moved in and out of you, slow and steady, syncing with the rhythm of his thumb circling your clit.

He watched as his digit disappeared into your body, connecting with the very core of your need. You moaned into his neck, holding onto the back of it, your body trembling with eagerness, your mind consumed by the erotic scene unfolding before you. He added a second finger, stretching you deliciously, preparing your body for his invasion, his thumb still working in time with his fingers.

You felt like you were melting into him, the pleasure radiating from your center, spreading throughout your entire body. Your moans became louder, more urgent, your hips bucking against his hand. Lando's eyes were locked on your face, watching your expression change from pleasure to bliss to raw, unbridled lust. You were gasping for breath, your body writhing under his skilled hands. It was numerous times better than any night you have spent alone with a vibrator between your legs.

He knew the moment was coming, he could feel it in the way your muscles tensed, the way your juices flowed freely, the way your moans grew louder and more intense. Your whole body was begging for release, and he was more than willing to give it to you.

With a gentleness that belied the intensity of the situation, he slid his fingers inside you, pushing past your tight entrance and finding that sweet spot that made you gasp with pleasure. You arched your back, your head thrashing on his shoulder, your nails digging into the back of his neck as he began to piston his fingers in and out of you, finding the perfect rhythm to drive you over the edge.

With a final thrust of his fingers, he plunged them deep into your core, finding that special place that made you scream in delight. Your entire body shook, convulsing with the force of your climax. You arched your back, your cries echoing through the room, as your pleasure coursed through you like an electric current.

Lando watched in awe as you came apart in his arms, the sight of your body, so beautiful and vulnerable in that moment, making his own desire for you burn even hotter.

"That's it, baby,” he continued to stroke your clit, milking every last drop of pleasure from you, until you were spent, your body limp and panting against him. “So beautiful, so perfect.”

Finally, he eased his fingers out of your heated core, the wetness glistening on his fingers. He brought them to your mouth, smearing the juices all over your lips and chin, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

"Taste yourself, baby. You're a goddess." You opened your mouth hesitantly, allowing his fingers to press against your tongue, tasting the sweet nectar of your own neediness. As you did so, Lando's lips found yours, his tongue slowly sliding past your lips to mingle with the taste of your climax.

“I’m going to taste you first hand,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

With that, he gently lowered you onto the bed, spreading your legs wider as he positioned himself between them. Before he dove in, he took off your panties and then proceeded to take off his shirt as well, revealing his toned chest and chiseled abs, sending a new wave of want through you. Your eyes followed his every move, every flex of his muscles as he moved closer, your heart pounding in excitement of what was about to come.

He bent your legs into knees and pushed them back, having your pussy on full display for him. He looked at you while pressing on your legs, his eyes burning with craving and lust, and you could see that he was about to devour you.

Lando’s mouth watered at the sight of your glistening cunt, leaking wet and pulsing for him. He leaned forward, kissing the back of your thighs softly, trailing his lips upward until he reached your inner thighs. Your breath hitched as he blew gently on your damp skin, sending shivers through you.

With a final deep breath, Lando extended his tongue just long enough to lightly flick your clit, sending electric shocks throughout your body. You arched your back, your hips lifting off the bed in response, your moans filling the room. His tongue teased your sensitive bud, drawing circles around it, then darting in and out of your folds in a rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart. Your hips pushed against him, urging him to continue, to give you more of what you craved. Lando obliged, his tongue becoming more insistent, flicking and teasing your sensitive flesh.

Your moans grew louder, more desperate, your hands clawing at the sheets beneath you as his tongue continued to work its magic.

His tongue found your entrance, sliding in and out, mimicking the rhythm of his fingers earlier, except this time, it was slower, more sensual, while the tip of his nose perfectly aligned with your clit, stimulating it with every motion. You whimpered, your hands gripping his hair almost painfully as you tried to pull him closer.

His fingers joined in, sinking into your wetness with ease, curling inside you in a way that felt like home. He moved in tandem with his tongue, creating a symphony of pleasure that left you breathless and writhing beneath him.

Lando's eyes were locked on your face, devouring every expression that crossed it. He could see the raw hunger in your eyes, and it only fueled his wish to give you more. Your moans grew louder, more urgent, your hips bucking against his face as he continued to pleasure you. You felt like you were on fire, every nerve ending screaming for relief.

“Want to finish yourself on my face on your own?” he slurped your juices, just teasing your entrance with his tongue. You cried out, your hands finding their way to his head, holding him to you as you started moving up and down his face.

“Fuck, baby, yes, use my face to get yourself off,” he muffled against you, encouraging your grinding motions. “Use me.”

He might’ve been the dominant one, but he was still there for your pleasure, for your enjoyment. He was there to submit to your every wish and request, to be used by you. And pleasure you he did, with his skilled tongue and passionate devotion. Each flick, each lap of his tongue sent your nerves on fire, your body shaking and pulsating with pleasure.

He reached up, grabbing your thighs, pulling you even closer to him, burying his face further into your pussy. The combination of his hot breath mixed with the taste of your arousal was intoxicating. You felt yourself growing closer to the edge, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

Your movements sped up, your hips grinding against his face, your nails digging into his scalp as you fought to keep yourself from falling over the edge. He could sense it, the moment when your body would explode in a gasm of pure pleasure, and he eagerly awaited it, his tongue never stopping its rhythmic dance with your sensitive nub.

Your body arched off the bed, your moans growing louder and more frenzied as your orgasm built to a crescendo. He continued to devour your pussy, his tongue never wavering, his nose pressed against your clit, his hands gripping your hips tightly, guiding your movements, urging you on.

And then, it happened. Your body shivered, your muscles tightened, and your voice filled the room in a scream of ecstasy. The vibrations shook Lando's face, his tongue never leaving your clit, as he reveled in the pleasure he had given you.

It was a glorious moment, Lando felt like he had reached the pinnacle of his seduction skills. He savored the taste of your arousal, still on his tongue, and smiled to himself as he watched you catch your breath, still panting on the bed.

“You taste amazing, baby,” he whispered, kissing your inner thighs gently. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

You couldn't help but blush as his words sent a shiver through you, your body still trembling from the intensity of the orgasm he had just brought you to. "You make me feel like a goddess," you managed to say, your voice still thick with aspiration.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Because you are."

Lando's eyes never left your face as he slowly stood up, your gaze locked on his toned body as he towered over you.

“Think you could take me now?” he reached down, offering you a hand to help you sit up.

“Fuck, yes,” you jumped to your knees, pawing at his pants with eager hands. “I’ve never wanted someone more in my life.”

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his pants and boxers, wanting to take them both down in one go, too impatient to have his cock spring out.

Lando laughed, shaking his head playfully. "Slow down, baby. This isn’t about me, but about you. It's about what you need, what you’re yearning for."

“But,” you started, your mouth turning into a pout. “I want to take you in my mouth.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, gently pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. It was impossible to look away as he stepped back to remove his bottoms, his erection springing free, standing tall in front of you. The sight so beautiful made you take a deep breath in, thick and hard, dripping with pre-cum. Your hands shook with fancy how he would feel in your palms as you waited for go-ahead to touch him.

Lando stepped closer, pushing his hips forward. “Think you could manage?” he asked with a sly smirk.

You didn't need another invitation. A grin spread across your face as you reached forward and wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly, feeling the silky skin against your fingers. Lando groaned, his hips bucking slightly, but he stayed still, allowing you to savor the moment. You leaned in, your lips nearly touching the head of his cock, the salty taste of him making your mouth water. But you pulled back, teasing him, your eyes locked on his.

“You’re so fucking big,” you whispered, your voice trembling with lust.

Lando groaned again, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he reveled in your touch and your words. He reached down, gently grasping the back of your head, guiding your forehead to his hardness. "Go ahead, baby," he said, his voice low and rough with need. "Take what you want."

With a shiver of excitement, you lifted his cock upward and pressed your lips to the smooth skin of his shaft. You traced the length of him with your tongue, savoring the taste of him and then rested the tip on your tongue, feeling the weight of his cock, before closing your mouth over the head.

His breath hitched, his hands gripping your hair tightly as you began to suck him, your mouth moving in a rhythm that matched your earlier hand job. You could feel his cock twitching in your mouth, his precum mixing with your saliva, only making you want him more.

Lando’s eyes were closed, his head thrown back in pleasure as you continued to take him deep into your throat. His hips jerked at the sensation, and you knew that you held all of his hankering in your hands and mouth. You took him deeper, your tongue swirling around the velvety smooth head, tasting the saltiness that leaked from him. He moaned, his hands threading through your hair, holding you tightly against him as you continued to tease him with your mouth.

“Oh, god, yes,” he groaned, his voice just above a whisper. “You’re killing me, baby.”

You couldn’t help but smile around him, vibrations of your laugh tickling his sensitive skin. He filled your mouth, his taste overwhelming yet delicious. You moaned around him, feeling the muscles of his shaft flex beneath your tongue as you continued to take him deeper.

Lando’s hands gripped the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he began to thrust slowly, trying to find more pleasure. Your moans grew louder, more urgent, your throat working to accommodate his size. You reached out, one hand gripping his balls, the other reaching between your legs to rub your clit, letting out a low, guttural moan as your orgasm began to build.

Hearing your cries only fueled him more, and Lando began to thrust faster, harder. Your orgasm was upon you quickly, your body trembling and shaking with each thrust. You held on tight to his cock, your hand cupping and stroking his balls, the fingers on your clit rubbing in a frenzied pattern that sent you spiraling into bliss.

Lando's eyes didn't stop watching you, his expression a mixture of pleasure and hunger. He could feel the moment when you would explode, and he pushed you off his cock and onto your back, replacing your fingers with his.

“What did I tell you? No more making yourself cum on your own, baby, not unless I tell you to,” he growled, his eyes dark and intense. “Let me be the one to make you feel this good.”

He bent down, his tongue darting out to kiss and nibble at your neck, your collarbone, your earlobe, his fingers still rubbing your clit. You whimpered, your body arching off the bed, eager for more of his touch. He whispered into your ear, "I need to see you, baby. I need to watch you cum."

You opened your eyes, gazing into his as he continued to torture your clit with his digits. Lando's eyes never left yours, his lips twisting into a smirk as he watched you lose control. It was a glorious sight, your body shaking, your voice screeching in pure pleasure as you orgasm overwhelmed you.

"That's it," he urged, his fingers moving faster, matching the rhythm of his lips against your skin. "Cum for me, baby. Cum hard."

Your body tensed, your orgasm building to a crescendo. You screamed his name, your nails digging into his back as you exploded around his fingers. Lando watched, a satisfied grin on his face, as your body shuddered and convulsed.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, your orgasm began to subside, leaving you panting and breathless. You lay there, spent and writhing in the afterglow, your mind still swimming with the intensity of the moment.

Lando leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead, and whispered, "You look so beautiful right now,"

With a contented sigh, you pulled him closer and kissed him deeply, your tongues intertwining as your bodies continued to pant and tremble.

“Please, fuck me now,” you pleaded, your arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Lando's eyes sparkled with craving as he whispered against your lips, "Not yet, sweetheart. I want you to ride me, take control for once."

You bit your lip, a thrill of excitement running through you at the thought of being in charge at this moment. Lando helped you to your feet, guiding you to straddle him as he sat on the edge of the bed. Your hands trembled slightly as you reached between your legs, positioning him at your entrance.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice low and filled with expectancy.

Your nod was almost imperceptible, your eyes locked onto his, and with a deep breath, you pushed forward. Lando's cock slid into you with such ease, and filled you completely. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjusted to the sensation.

He grinned, a wicked glint in his eyes. “You alright, baby?”

“Yeah,” you managed to murmur, the initial stretch leaving you a bit dizzy.

“Good,” he said, kissing your chest, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements. “Whenever you’re ready, show me what you can do. Ride me.”

With a renewed sense of power and confidence, you began to move, rocking your hips in a slow steady rhythm. Lando watched you with admiration, his hands never leaving your waist, his fingers digging into your skin with each move. His teeth sank into your lower lip and you could feel his hot breath against your skin.

“You feel so amazing,” he whispered, his voice low and needy.

You moaned, riding him harder, your hips bucking in time with his thrusts. His hands slid up your spine, his fingers gripping your hair as he pulled you closer, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. The taste of his tongue mixed with the saltiness of your sweat, making you moan even louder.

“Lando, you’re so deep,” you whined, your words punctuated by his thrusts.

“You can take it,” he reassured you, his hands tightening in your hair, pulling you closer, his hips bucking hard against you. Your breasts bounced, the nipples rubbing against his chest, sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

"Fuck, baby, so tight," he hissed, matching your rhythm. "Look at you, riding me so expertly," he praised, his eyes locked on your body. "You're so fucking beautiful."

You tossed your head back, your hair cascading down your back, your eyes closed, lost in the sensation. Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly, your nails biting into the flesh as your orgasm built, every thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

"Oh, god, yes," you whimpered, your hips bucking wildly, meeting his every thrust.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, his voice ragged. “Fuck yourself onto my cock, make yourself cum, use me as your personal fucktoy,” he begged, his hands tightening around your hips.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his skin, the pleasure building and building, until finally you reached the peak, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave.

You screamed his name, your body arching off him, your muscles tensing and then releasing, your core clenching around his cock as you exploded in bliss. Lando watched, a look of pure satisfaction on his face, his eyes dark and hungry.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, thrusting harder as you cried out, your pussy pulsating around his cock. “Cum for me, let me feel you shake around me.”

You fell into his arms, your body limp and spent, as he continued to thrust inside you. With each thrust, his cock glided against your sensitive walls, sending shivers of delight across your whole being.

Your body was still trembling, your orgasm lingering in your veins, as Lando finally pulled out, his cock glistening with your juices.

He helped you to lie down on the bed, your legs spread wide, your pussy inviting him back in. Your eyes never left his as he positioned himself at your entrance once more, your breath catching, awaiting his entry.

“Ready to go again?” he asked, his voice low and sultry, his eyes locked onto yours.

“Yes,” you gasped, drunk on the high of your orgasm and eager for more.

With a slow and deliberate thrust, he slid back inside you, his cock fitting perfectly within your tight walls. You moaned loudly, your body adjusting to the sensation of being filled once again.

Lando leaned down, his lips brushing against your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "You feel so good, baby," he whispered, his voice low and gruff.

He started to move inside you, his hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm. Your hands found their way to his back, clutching at his skin as you matched his pace, your bodies perfectly in sync.

Your eyes never left his, locked onto his as he looked deep into your soul. Why were you even going out looking for a good time when you had this next door?

"Fuck me, Lando," you pleaded, your voice ragged with need. “Harder.”

Lando grinned, his dark eyes gleaming. He picked up his pace, his hips pounding into you with a fierce intensity that sent waves of pleasure crashing over you. Your screams filled the room as he plowed into you, his cock hitting your G-spot with each deep thrust.

With each surge, you could sense yourself drawing nearer to the brink, your body quivering with excitement. Lando's hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as your bodies moved in perfect harmony.

"Fuck, yes," he growled, his voice hoarse with lust. "You feel so fucking good, baby. You're going to cum for me again already, aren’t you?”

"Yes," you moaned, your voice breathy and needy. "I'm so close."

“So fucking desperate and needy. I can tell no one knew how to handle this pussy before.” It was true, no one else had ever made you feel this way. Lando had tapped into something within you that no one else had ever reached.

You moaned, your hips bucking in time with his thrusts. The room was filled with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, the wet slurping noise of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy. Your breaths came in short, ragged gasps, your body trembling with the force of your arousal.

"Harder, Lando," you begged, your eyes locked onto his as his hips pistoned into you.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned, his hips bucking hard against you. “And only getting tighter. Sit up, baby, watch as you cum on my cock.”

You followed his command, propping yourself on your elbows and watching as his cock slid in and out of you. Lando's hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as his cock slammed into you with brutal force, your breasts bouncing wildly with every thrust.

“See what mess you’re making on my cock? You’re such a dirty girl, aren’t you?” he taunted, his eyes never leaving your flushed face as you looked at the white ring around his cock. “You love getting fucked, don’t you?”

You moaned, head thrown back, eyes rolling in your head as you felt yourself being driven closer to the edge with every deep thrust. The sensations were overwhelming. Every time he hit your G-spot, an electrical charge shot through your body, making your whole being feel alive and on fire.

“Fuck, I’m cumming,” you whined, your voice ragged and breathless.

Lando grinned. He picked up his pace, thrusting harder and faster, his cock slamming into you with a furious intensity. You felt yourself being swept up in a tidal wave of pure ecstasy, every nerve ending singing with pleasure.

“Cum for me, baby,” he growled, his voice rough with lust. “Let me feel your pussy milk my cock as you cum all over me.”

You screamed, your body arching and shaking as the most intense orgasm of your life washed over you. Your pussy clenched and released around his cock, squeezing him, as you collapsed onto the bed, gasping for air.

Lando watched, his eyes growing wider with every thrust, his body tensing as he felt your pussy pulsating around his cock.

"Fuck, baby, that's it," he groaned, his hips bucking wildly, matching your rhythm. "I'm gonna cum too. Fuck, your pussy feels so good, so tight. I can't hold back any longer."

Your body shook with pleasure, your breaths shallow and rapid, as you felt his cock throbbing inside you. Lando's eyes locked onto yours, his face contorted with bliss as he thrust harder and faster, his orgasm building to an explosive climax.

"Oh, fuck!" he roared, his body convulsing as he filled you with his cum. Your pussy clenched around his cock, milking every last drop.

You lay there, panting and sweaty, your body still shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm, as Lando pulled out, his cock covered with your juices. He plopped down on the bed next to you, his chest visibly rising and falling.

“I hope… I managed… to do better… than that… toy,” Lando panted.

“You did so much better,” you breathed, affirming. “Fuck, Lando, that was incredible. I don't think I've ever felt like this before."

Lando grinned, his eyes shining with triumph. He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you. "Then you've been missing out, baby. That was just a taste of what you could have every night, if you wanted."

You laughed softly, snuggling into his embrace. "I'm not sure I could keep up with you."

"You'd be surprised," he said, his lips brushing against the top of your head. "But I'll be here, whenever you need me, you know, just a door knock away.”

You smiled, imagining all the nights you could’ve spent with Lando instead of wasting your time with random hookups that all ended the same.

You turned on your side and propped yourself up on your elbow. “Should I throw all my toys away now then?”

"Not necessarily," Lando chuckled, running his fingers through your hair. "I mean, they served their purpose, but maybe we could use those toys of yours next time you want to spice things up. Just imagine how much better they'll feel with me inside you."

His words went straight into your core and made you shiver. You imagined it too, the intensity of it all, his cock and those toys, all at once, filling you, stretching you, pleasuring you in ways you've never been before.

"I like the sound of that," you said, running your fingers lightly over his chest, trying to play it cool. "But I have to say, you inside me feels better than any toy I’ve ever had."

He smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well then, I guess that makes me your favorite toy now, huh?"

“Maybe,” you purred, your hand trailing down his chest and drifting lower to his hips. "But I think I'd need to test out your battery life first."

[nereidprinc3ss]

omg i'm obsessed with the idea of spencer and a university student and i looooved the one you wrote with reader struggling with finals (i relate so much </3) i'm not sure if you write requests or not (if not, then i'm sorry and please ignore this hahaha) but i would love to see more of their dynamic? maybe spencer for once arrives earlier from a case and goes to pick up reader from university as a surprise? i don't really know but i would love to see more 💗 thank you and i hope you have a good day!

AHHHH omg you have NO IDEA how excited I was to open my inbox and see a request!! i am absolutely obsessed w spencer x uni student too

i kind of took this and ran w it so its a little angsty and random LOLOL but here is (drumroll)

spencer picking up reader after you fail an exam (sorry lol) and you are NOT in a good mood but he loves you so its fine

Tears, partly from the bitter wind and partly from shame, blur your phone screen as you exit the lecture hall. Another missed call from Spencer. It’s the third one today—you've been ignoring them in an attempt to remain focused on the final that you just bombed. Part of you now wants to keep ignoring them out of sheer embarrassment. How can you admit to your super-genius boyfriend that you are a bona fide academic failure? Still, you don’t want him wondering about you while he should be working. Your numb fingers fumble with the phone as you try to call him back without running into anybody on your walk back to student housing. 

It doesn’t reach the second ring before he’s picking up. 

“Hey,” he sighs. “I was starting to worry.” 

“I’m sorry, I’ve been busy,” you exhale, cutting through some trees as you approach your building. “What’s up? How’s the case?” 

“Well... that’s actually what I’ve been calling about. We wrapped up this morning.” 

“What? But last night you said it would be at least three more days.” 

“Rare instance of me being wrong, I guess.” 

“So when are you flying back?” you ask, not wanting to get your hopes up. You know sometimes his team stays behind to help with processing a case. He doesn’t reply for a moment. “Spencer?” 

“I’m... thirteen minutes away from your school. Twelve.” 

Your brain short-circuits as you process his words, the cold metal of the door handle biting into your fingers as you stop dead in your tracks. 

“You--are you driving here right now?” 

“Yes,” he begins, sounding embarrassed, “I kept calling because I wanted to ask first, but I know you had your last final this morning and you were going to come over when I got back anyway so I thought you might want to come stay with me for a few extra days. You can say no, obviously—” 

Some of the icy despair melts in your chest. 

“Of course, I want to.” 

“Good,” he exhales a laugh. “It would have been awkward if you said no. Can you have a bag packed by the time I get there?” 

You’re speedwalking through the lobby now, hitting the up button for the elevator more times than is necessarily effective. 

“Drive faster.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

By the time you blindly shove enough clothing in a bag, text your roommate to let her know you’ll be gone for the rest of the week, and make it back outside, Spencer’s familiar vintage car is already pulling up to the curb. He doesn’t even bother cutting the engine—just puts it in park and gets out, rounding the vehicle as you close the distance between one another. His smile is brilliant, and though you don’t feel particularly deserving of it, it’s for you. 

“Hi,” you breathe shakily as he loops his arms around your waist. 

“Hi, pretty,” he says, already leaning down to kiss you. It’s soft and sweet over too quickly, but then he’s gently pulling you into him. You drop your bag and bury your face in his jacket, trying to right yourself before you go into an emotional tailspin. 

As usual, he smells like lavender, clove, resinous amber. It makes your head spin. Right away you feel yourself relaxing; feel your guard slipping, like it always does when he’s around. 

“I missed you.” The words are quiet to begin with, muffled further by the fabric of his coat, but you know he’ll hear you. 

“I missed you too,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “Everything okay?” 

Why are you always surprised when a man who works for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI accurately analyzes your behavior? 

“Just tired. Can we go home?” You pull back enough to look up at him, meeting his fond—and just a little concerned—gaze, averting your eyes before he has time to discern your... omission of truth. 

“Yeah, angel. Of course we can.” 

He opens the passenger side door for you, making sure you’re settled before tossing your bag in the back seat and circling around the back of the car. 

“Is that coffee?” You say as soon as he slides into the driver’s seat. His eyes dart down to the tumbler in the center cupholder as he buckles. 

“It’s from the jet. You won’t like it.” 

Despite his warning you reach over to grab it, taking a small sip as he puts the car into gear and pulls out of the parking lot. You make a sour face. Spencer glances over. 

“I told you it was bad.” 

You yawn, putting it back in the cupholder. “It was worth a shot.” 

Jazz music plays quietly from the speakers and the heat is blasting, but you’re too busy mentally rehashing question 37 to find it relaxing. 

“You didn’t get enough sleep last night,” he states. Not a question. Outside, the brick buildings of your campus roll by. You wonder if all the students rushing about on the sidewalks and side streets failed any of their finals.  

“Couldn’t,” you mumble flatly, picking at your nails.  

There’s a moment’s pause, and you’re imagining all the things you could have done differently. You’ve never failed a final before. If you’d just studied a little bit harder—if you’d stayed in instead of going out last weekend, if you weren’t so— 

“I’m going to ask you something, and I don’t think you’re going to like it,” Spencer says. 

“Mhm,” you hum, too afraid to speak because your eyes are already stinging again. Honestly, you’re surprised you made it this far without him getting the truth out of you. He offers his hand across the console as you slink down in your seat, and you take it, allowing him to run his thumb over yours in soothing lines. 

“How do you think your final went?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, the bare branches of the trees outside blurring as you stare unseeingly. 

“Not good. Like, I definitely failed, not good. I'm an idiot.” 

“You absolutely are not an idiot.” 

“You didn’t see me taking the test, Spencer. I literally just sat there staring at it for ten minutes before I even answered one question. It was pathetic.” 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” 

The question takes you by surprise. Your frown deepens. 

“What? I don’t—that’s not—" 

“Just answer the question. Did you sleep at all last night?” 

“Yes!” 

“Don't lie to me.” 

“Fuck you! I slept for like two hours and had coffee this morning!”  

He squeezes your hand. 

“That’s why you failed.” 

The first tear traces its path down your cheek, composure overwhelmed by the confrontation. 

“I hate when you use your stupid interrogation tactics on me,” you say, voice wobbling. And then the crying begins in earnest. 

“I know, baby.” 

His hand moves to rub your back when you let go to cover your face. Torrential evidence of your frustration and utter exhaustion well over, slipping through your fingers despite your best efforts to stop them from coming at all. Having an emotional breakdown in the passenger seat of his car is far from how you’d wanted to greet Spencer’s surprise arrival, but you’re too worn out to mask your emotions—especially when he is so adept at drawing them to the surface. 

A moment passes like that before you take a shuddering breath, raising your head slightly and wiping your cheeks with your sleeves in vain. 

“I should have been able to do it. I just—it was like I was reading the questions and I knew that I should know the answers, but I couldn’t remember anything.” 

“You’re exhausted. Sleep deprivation has an immediate, devastating effect on cognitive functioning levels. My recall and processing speed start to fail when I’m tired, too. It has nothing to do with how smart you are.” 

It makes sense—but it doesn’t make you feel much better. You wanted to ace this exam. Of course, Spencer wouldn’t understand because school was as easy as breathing for him. He barely had to try to get three doctorates. It’s possible, you suppose, that dating a genius has put an academic chip on your shoulder—maybe you’ve set impossibly high standards for yourself.  

After a few minutes the crying finally ebbs, if only because you’re running into supply and demand problems with your tear ducts. You rub your weepy eyes on your shoulder, leaning against the cold window and watching DC go by. 

“You know, the final isn’t as important as you think it is. You’ll still pass the class.” 

“It’s symbolic,” you mumble, breath fogging up the glass. Spencer hums, still rubbing your back. 

“I know. I know it matters to you, but I don’t want you to think one bad grade is a reflection of who you are. Do you understand why it doesn’t make sense to measure something as abstract as intelligence by a metric as one dimensional as a standardized test?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

You shift in your seat, wiping your face with your sleeve and prompting Spencer to take your other hand once more. 

“Can your FBI friend hack the university database and give me an A?” you ask after a moment, sniffling. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Pretty please?” 

“Nope.” 

“It’s like you don’t even love me,” you mutter, angling yourself away from him.  

He pulls your hand toward him and presses a kiss to the back of it. 

“I love you so much that I don’t want you to get expelled for academic dishonesty.” 

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll probably just drop out.” 

You both know you’re just being overdramatic, but Spencer has a tendency to be sweet even when you don’t deserve it. 

“I’ll love you no matter what you do.” 

You blush, unable to come up with a sufficient reply. His eyes slide to you briefly and he smirks, clearly enjoying his ability to fluster you, and by extension, get you to shut up. 

“Eyes on the road, genius,” you grumble. But for the first time today you’re fighting a smile instead of tears. 

[luveline]

Wait! Hotch x stripper!reader was so good. I want more of their potential relationship!!

"I want a private dance." 

You look up from your seat at the bar in surprise. Yes, you're in lingerie, and yes, you're in a strip club, but the patrons here usually leave you alone at the bar after a few dances. 

"I'm not doing private dances tonight, honey," you say, sipping at your drink, condensation wetting your hands, "sorry." 

"Are you kidding?" 

You wipe a droplet off of your naked thigh. You should've gone into the dressing rooms and changed, but you'd been dancing for a long time without a break, and craved a little drink to numb your headache. "Not kidding. Sorry," you say again, though apologising makes you feel sick. It's not your fault, you're allowed to say no to private dances, but you've learned that saying sorry helps minimise their anger. 

"That's what you're here for." 

"No," you say, looking away from him. "'M just a dancer. Private dances are done at my discretion." 

"You could at least look at me when I'm talking to you," he says sharply. "Don't be a bitch, sweetheart." 

"That's enough." 

You look up, then, at a familiar voice cutting in. Agent Hotchner stands tall, dark and handsome where he stands behind your disgruntled patron. "Talk to her with respect or don't talk," Agent Hotchner continues. 

"Who are you?" the patron asks. 

He doesn't even need his badge. Hotchner just looks at him, waiting. It's impressive how stony one man can look, how much authority he can carry in little but his stance.

The patron throws you a disgusted look and leaves the way he came. You breathe a sigh of relief, though you're pissed too. You explained yourself twice and it didn't matter, but Agent Hotchner's scolding was enough to send him running. 

"Thank you," you say. 

He shakes his head at you. "You shouldn't have needed my intervention in the first place." 

Your chest hurts with a weird queasy shame. "I know, I should've– I mean, what did I think was gonna happen, sitting here." You laugh awkwardly. 

His frown deepens. "That's not what I meant… I'm sorry." 

"What are you sorry for?" you ask, turning back to your drink. You scratch at the salt along the rim. 

"That it happens, Y/N. That you have to deal with it." 

"Thanks, Agent Hotchner," you say. 

"You can call me Aaron, if you're comfortable."  

He'd said the same a few weeks ago. You'd shown up at the BAU to meet Spencer (who'd been indisposed of, playing an intense game of chess against himself) and he offered you a ride home. He insisted you call Spencer first. He did everything he could to make you feel safe, which is more than most. 

"Aaron," you say, tucking your hands between your thighs. What would his colleagues think of him, here, standing opposite of you and your lingerie? Your chest craned forward ever so slightly, the softness of your stomach and your bruised legs? "I don't know why you're here." 

"I have some questions for you." 

"Am I in trouble?" you ask. 

He gives you a look. You imagine it to be something similar to, No, but I might be. It's a nice fantasy. "No. You were a great help with Lawley. I was hoping we could use your expertise again." 

"Is this going to get dangerous for me?" you ask, tilting your head gently to one side. "Snitching?" 

"I'd never let anything happen to you. And if you were to keep talking to the FBI, we could even facilitate compensation." 

"I sell enough of myself." 

He holds your gaze. "I understand. But I'd really appreciate your help with this." 

"Okay." You slip out of your chair. "Can I get dressed, first, or…" 

"Of course. Take your time." He doesn't gawk at you, doesn't stare, only meets you head on with that familiar furrowed brow. "Does it happen often?" 

You let yourself picture him as neither a customer nor an agent with work to do. For a moment, he's a handsome man, striking heartfelt conversation. "All the time." 

You change into your clothes and meet him again at the bar, where he asks you questions about a patron and you answer to the best of your ability. Before he leaves, he gives you his card. "If you need me," is all he says as he goes. You put the number in your phone and tuck the card into your dressing table, wondering what definition of need fits the bill. 

[kassiekole22]

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

His Angel

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

Pairing: Josh Washington x Fem!Reader

Description: Desperate to save your boyfriend, Josh, you travel through the mines alone to find him, soon to have a bittersweet reunion...

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Mention Of Death.

Word Count: 735

A/N: The queen of fluff and angst is back, bitches!!! Haha, just kidding. I'm not the queen. 😂 But I am back and plan on delivering some brand new fics to the Until Dawn fanbase to celebrate the remake, starting with this fic here. I hope you enjoy it. 🖤 (Find all my fics at #kassieuntildawnfanfics until I can fix my masterlist, and comment to let me know if you want to be added to the new taglist!)

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

She screams his name, her voice echoing off the rocks walls and dirt pathways, traveling for miles through the underground tomb but falling on the deaf ears of the dead. She runs through the rugged maze that is these old mines, while fear grips her heart tightly. But she isn't as afraid of the possible dangers that lurk in the shadows as she is afraid of losing that one person she searches for.

Jagged stones scrape and cut her flesh as she climbs, painting the environment crimson with her blood. The harsh cold air bites fiercely at her skin, freezing through to her bones enough to cause nothing but a painful numbness to course through her limbs. The agony she feels is more intense than anything she has ever been through, but she must keep going. Her love for him fuels her strength as she pushes through and bears it all.

She won't stop until she finds him... Death wouldn't even get in her way...

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

He sits with his head in his hands, his body trembling from the freezing temperature and his deep fear of isolation. He wishes for redemption—to see her again and make things right. It is the only thing that keeps him holding on anymore. He chews at his dry and cracked lip while familiar voices echo in his brain. Are the memories? Did he create them? Were they even real? He doesn't know. Though he hopes that some day he can get some answers.

But suddenly—amist the sadist voices swirling around his mind—another voice calls out. It's much sweeter than the rest, with a hint of sorrow and a broken sob mixed within it. Though it still sounds warm, just like home. It takes him a moment before he can comprehend the voice, until she is crouching before him and taking his bruised cheeks in her icy, frostbitten hands.

His pale blue eyes lift up, and a gasp of a shaken breath leaves him at the sight of her. Soaking wet hair frames her dirty face, and a few trickles of blood drip from a wide cut on her forehead and a few more from falling from her lips. Then his eyes glance back down to see even more blood covering her clothes. He wants to ask what happened to her, but he can only muster up one word to speak...

"Angel..." He whispers, which filters through a cold breath, parting his chapped lips ever so slightly.

She smiles faintly at this as her glistening eyes light back up with life. It was a word that always made her heart flutter, just as long as it came from him. She wraps her arms around him, embracing him like it will be the last time she ever gets to. And he rests his head on her shoulder while returning the embrace, sighing happily now that he is right back where he belongs. Although she looks a mess, she couldn't look better to him in this moment. His angel—the girl who had saved him time and time again—was finally back in his arms. He couldn't be more grateful for it.

And she is grateful that he didn't hear it—the screams that tore from her blood-stained lips as her stomach and other vital organs got ripped out by the wendigo. He didn't need the guilt weighing him down any further than he had already sunk. She may have died trying to find him, but she reached her goal in the end. She vowed that not even death would stop her. And even though it tried right before she got to him, she continued to push through due to her overwhelming love for him. 

Now she will watch over him while he waits to be saved, maybe even while he tries to heal in the hospital and longer if she's allowed to leave this place. She would hold his hand while he learns of her fate, even if he doesn't know of her presence. She knows that deep down, he would still feel her near. She would watch him find love again and raise a family like they had talked about in the past. Despite the pain of that future no longer being with her, she would watch with a tearful smile, proud of him for all he overcame. She would continue to protect him from beyond for years—she would continue to be his angel.

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

[leviraaaaaa]

Takes place in s2 after the scouts rescue Eren.

Blood had dried over your face. It dried over your lashes, making it hard to blink. The pain had numbed long ago, the cuts and slashes didn't hurt as much. At least, not as bad as how your heart ached.

You should have been in the med-bay. In your dorm perhaps. In the bathroom showering up, you think. But instead you found yourself slumped against Levi's door. You weren't even sure why. But out of all the places, this was what the first place you could think of. You needed to run. To hide. But there were people everywhere. And everyone was covered in blood and everyone was crying and everyone was staring. And everyone kept asking you questions and they all looked half-dead and goddamnit, you couldn't take it anymore.

You ended up here, for some reason. Instinctively, you had seeked him out. Well-aware he wouldn't be here but nevertheless.

It was the only side of the building that wasn't swarming with people anyways.

But you think you needed something to ground yourself. Needed his familiar gray eyes to glare at you. Some sense of sanity, clarity, safety.

You wished he was here, you thought.

So that he could scold you. Yell at you to get your ass up and get cleaned because you're filthy and you're bleeding all over his carpet.

Maybe that's what you need.

Maybe his sharp tongue would finally snap you out of this nightmare.

"What..are you doing here?"

You jolted. Your stiff, blood-crusted lashes barely fluttered as you blinked up.

He was there, standing in front of you, eyes widened just a fraction, confused and surprised.

You sighed.

You take it back, you don't really want to see him right now.

"..Levi." You muttered, not bothering to get up. Or even move. Your body give itself up a little more, leaning the rest of it's weight on the door. "Didn't think you'd be back so soon."

"Where am I supposed to be?" He asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"I don't know?" You shrugged. "By Erwin's sick bed?"

"I hate hospitals."

Your mouth twiched. Of course he did. "Will Erwin be okay?"

"He'll live,” He sighs. "His arm won't though.”

You looked away.

“Was it bad?” He asked, carefully watching you with narrowed eyes. You knew exactly what he meant.

“What do you think, genius?”

Levi stared, unease in his posture. He looked uncertain. He'd known the answer, the moment the first horse came in. There were too much blood, too many injured. He knew the answer when he'd saw Erwin, his uniform bloodied and mangled. Hange looked terribly exhausted and the brats looked banged up as well. It doesn't take much for one to add two and two and understand what it'd been like.

Then he'd looked for you. Wildly. He was looking at every horse that passed through, observing every hooded face. Then he paused by the medical room, glancing over every person, but no, no you. There was no you. So he could successfully rule out that you were heavily injured as well.

So when he'd went out to search for you, this was not the place he'd thought he'd find you.

This was, also, definitely not the state he'd thought he'd find you in.

Slouched down in a pool of blood and filth, you were curled up so close, as if trying to make yourself smaller, to make you disappear. He felt a sense of relief when he noticed you weren't too injured. At least, not physically.

There was something wrong though. The more he looked at you, the more frail you appeared. There was something in the way you looked, so tired, so terribly exhausted. The eyes of someone lost. Someone who had just survived hell. Someone who didn't know where else to go. From all the years he'd known you, he'd never seen you this fazed.

He felt a sudden feeling of helplessness. He didn't know how to help you. But he swallowed it down and spoke anyway.

"Are you.. alright?"

You glanced up. He was looking at you, actually looking at you, with worry.

You thought about it for a second

"...no." You swallowed.

He inhaled, nodding, like he wasn't expecting any different answer. His eyes glanced over you.

"You're covered in blood."

"Don't worry, most of it isn't mine."

"I can see you're bleeding." He said. "Why are you not in the med wing?"

"...I needed space." You mumbled, hugging your knees close to your chest. But he was giving you that look, that look that made you feel as though he could see right through your soul. It always made you feel so exposed. So small. You wish you didn't look so vulnerable as you must do. "..that's why I came here. Didn't think you'd be around."

"You're bleeding out on my office carpet.”

That made you grin, "I know. " You said. "I'm sorry. I'll move in a bit.”

"Are you hiding?" He asked, his voice low. God, he knew you too well. Always the escapist, always running away when it got too much. And he’d always dragged you right back.

"Maybe." You admitted.

There was a pause, thick and heavy. You couldn't hold his gaze anymore. You leaned your head back, closing your eyes, you wished he’d leave, wished he couldn’t see how close you were to breaking.

Breathe.

Breathe.

You couldn't.

"Stop."

You blinked at him, it came out breathless. "What?"

"Don't.” He repeated. “I know what you're doing."

"I'm not doing anything—"

"No. You're shutting yourself out."

"What's that even supposed to–"

"And you're angry at me. You're looking at me like you're angry at me. I can tell. " He said, frowning as the realization came across him. Confused. "Why are you angry at me?"

You didn't know what to say. You stared at him as his gray eyes searched your face for an answer. An answer you didn't know yourself. The more he looked at you and the more you looked at him, the more you felt the strange lack of air in your chest rise.

What do you tell him? You could always lie. Tell him it's nothing. He's seeing things. You couldn't think. But no matter what you made up, he'd see through you anyways.

You did feel angry.

Were you angry at him? You thought. Not really. Anger was the last emotion you felt. Not towards him.

Did a part of you blame Levi for this whole shit? Yes, you did. As unreasonable as it was, you did. You hated that Levi wasn't there. You hated that you had to face this alone, how vulnerable you'd felt without him. And you hated that, maybe if he was there, so many less people might've died. It might've been so much easier.

You might cry.

You weren't angry.

But you were scared. You were terrified. You were traumatized. You couldn't breathe. And you wished he'd stop looking at you like that for fucks sake.

"I'm not angry at you. Why would I be angry at you?" You mumbled, the bitterness in your voice so obvious.

"That's what I'm asking."

"Well, I'm not. Your people reading skills are questionable."

"People reading skills? Yes, perhaps." He agreed quietly, looking down at you. "You though? I've known you way too long. So why the fuck are you angry?"

"Because you weren't there, you dumbfuck!" You yelled, the words rushing out before you could even have a chance to stop them. There were angry tears running down your cheek and you pressed your blood covered hands to your mouth to stop yourself from letting the choked sob come out. He was right. You were angry. Not angry at him, but you felt rage, and you had to let it out.

"Couldn't have found a better time to get your stupid injury, could you?" Your voice cracked. "You just had to not be there the only time I needed you!" He looked so hurt, you realized. His brows furrowed together as he watches you, listening quietly as you threw words at him you didn't even mean. Cruel, cruel, cruel. He looked so hurt. And confused. He didn't deserve this. You needed to stop.

Everything you went through today, every bit of fear you'd experienced, everytime you'd felt helpless, everytime you'd wished he was there only to find he wasn't, every gruesome, bloody memory was tangling up in your chest, demanding to get out. It burned you down. If you didn't let it out, you'd turn into ashes here.

"What's the point," You bit the words out, "What's the point of being so fucking strong? Of being humanity's fucking strongest or whatever? Tell me what the bloody point if you can't even be there when we need you?"

"I'm so fucking mad at you," You whispered angrily. "So fucking mad." You were gasping between the words. You needed to stop. You needed to breathe. "I could punch you." You rasped. "I can't even look at you, I can't even—"

You didn't get to finish what you were going to say, because then Levi was down on his knees in an instant, pulling you into him. You struggled, your instincts still jumpy from the last hour, pushing against him and trying to peer away. But he was stronger than he ever was and he held you close, pressing your head to his shoulder.

Your breath hitched, your words coming to a stop as a choke came out. You could feel his heartbeat. It was slow, calming down your own. Breathe.

You weren't angry anymore.

Suddenly, all the rage left your body, the adrenaline rush had died down and you melted right into him. Now all you felt was sadness. Unbearable sadness. There was a void in your heart, empty and cold, and it kept reminding you of everything that had happened today.

"I thought—" you whispered, "I thought we were gonna die.” Your voice cracked as the quiet confession left you. The words were stumbling out of you, a desperate attempt to make him understand. He had to understand. “I was so, so scared, Levi." Your fingers dig into his shirt and you were almost gasping. "And then—and then fucking Erwin almost died and—and everything started going dipshit and I—I thought we were all gonna die and that's the end of it. And I was—I was—"

"Breathe," He whispered in your ear, reminding you. So uncharacteristically gentle. "Breathe. It's over. You're not there anymore.

It was the softness in his voice you think. Like he understood. Like he knew exactly why you were here and how he got you here. There was all the patience in the world when he spoke, all the kindness. It finally broke you. You tried to inhale but there was a tight knot in your throat and it constricted with every tight inhale, as if your lungs were squeezing themselves. Breathe, he said. You had to breathe.

But it was so hard to. Instinctively, you latched onto him, clinging to him desperately as your lungs fought for air. You were drowning and he was the last solid thing. If he let you go now you would fall. You would cease. You would break. You buried your face in his chest. Warmth. He was so warm. Always so warm. And it was so cold there, you thought you might never feel this again.

He felt so very much like home.

"You weren't there." You whispered accusingly. You hated him. "You weren't there, Levi."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You weren't there and I was scared that I was gonna die alone. I hate that you weren't there, I wish you were there because–"

"I know." He repeated. "Hush. You're okay. You're breathing. And you're filthy as fuck but you're alive."

That made you snort. You let out half a sob. "I got blood over you."

He didn't say anything, only pulled you closer in response.

"You're strong." He muttered softly as you let yourself melt into him. There was no more strength left in you. You could only focus on his voice and nothing else. "And brave. And Smart as fuck. I knew you'd be okay. That you'd come back. I always believed in you."

You soaked in his affirmations, the words soothing you. You rested your head on his shoulder and he did the same, his hand gently rubbing circles on your back.

"..I was so scared." You repeated again, closing your eyes. A soft shiver ran through you. "I was scared that I'd never get to see you again. And I never even got to say a proper goodbye."

"Mhm." He hummed softly. "But you're here now. That's what matters. I'm sorry I wasn't there, but I'm here now."

He was holding you so gently. Like you were made of glass. Delicate. Fragile. It's impossible to think that a cold man like him was even capable of such gentleness. You clung to him, wondering how could someone still be so kind after the words you had thrown towards him.

"I wasn't really mad at you," you mumbled after a while, your breathing still uneven.

"I know."

"I didn't mean what I said."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

Of course he did. He always did.

[callsigns-haze]

A pilot? Again?

Pairing: Jake Seresin X detective, single mom reader

After investigating a crash at Top Gun for four hours, Detective Y/N, who lost her husband Daniel four years ago, finds no evidence of foul play and deems the case closed. During her time there, she reconnects with Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Daniel's younger brother, and meets his charming wingman, Jake "Hangman" Seresin. Hangman flirts with Y/N as he walks her to her car, and for the first time in years, she feels comfortable with the attention. Before leaving, Y/N gives him her card with her number, leaving the door open for future contact. Hangman promises to text, sparking the potential for a new chapter in her life.

This chapter contains references to past personal loss and emotional themes. It features characters dealing with grief and the aftermath of a tragic event.

Two Weeks of Silence

It had been two weeks since the funeral, but the house was still suffocating. The silence was unbearable, the only sounds coming from the occasional babble of 14-month-old Keith or the quiet shuffle of Logan, who had been eerily quiet since his father’s death. It was as if the life had been drained from the walls along with Daniel "Griffin" Bradshaw, Bradley’s older brother by two years.

Y/N stood in the kitchen, gripping the counter with trembling hands, her back turned to the door. The numbness hadn’t left. It clung to her like a second skin, tightening with every passing day. She had held it together at the funeral—everyone had said she was so strong. Strong for the kids. But now, without the distraction of people offering meaningless words, she felt nothing but an empty ache.

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw had been coming over almost every day since the funeral. Not that she’d asked him to. He just showed up, like he was trying to step into Daniel’s shoes. But he wasn’t Daniel. He never would be.

She heard the familiar creak of the door behind her. She didn’t bother turning around. She already knew who it was.

“Y/N,” Bradley said, his voice quiet but rough, the usual edge missing.

“What is it, Bradley?” she asked, her tone sharper than she intended.

“I came to check on you,” he said, stepping into the kitchen with a heavy sigh.

Y/N gritted her teeth and turned to face him, her arms crossed. She looked exhausted—dark circles under her eyes, her face pale and drawn. “You don’t have to keep coming here, you know. I’m not your responsibility.”

Bradley’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like the way she was pushing him away, but he wasn’t about to argue with her. Not now. Not after everything. “I know. But I’m here anyway.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Right. You’re always here.”

Bradley stared at her, his eyes flicking to the half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter. “Have you slept at all?”

“Why does it matter?” she snapped. “Sleep doesn’t change anything. Daniel’s still dead. I’m still stuck here raising these boys on my own. You think a nap’s going to fix that?”

Bradley didn’t flinch. He just nodded, the muscles in his jaw working as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “No. It won’t.”

Y/N turned away from him again, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. Keith’s babbling came from the living room, a small reminder that her youngest son needed her, even though she felt like she had nothing left to give. Logan, too, had been withdrawn, watching everything in silent confusion. He was too young to understand why his father wasn’t coming home, but old enough to sense the weight of what had happened.

“What am I supposed to tell them, Bradley?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly. “What do I say to Logan when he asks about his dad? That he died on some mission that went sideways? That he’s never coming back? When I do he asks why. How am I meant to know!?”

Bradley exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. “I don’t know, Y/N. I wish I had the answers. But Logan’s going to need you to be honest with him. You can’t shield him from it forever.”

She let out a shaky breath, blinking rapidly to fight back the tears. “He’s only seven, Bradley. He shouldn’t have to grow up like this.”

Bradley stepped closer, his voice softening. “You’re right. He shouldn’t. But he’s tough—just like his dad. And you’re tougher than you think.”

Y/N shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “It'll ruin the kid. I’m just so damn tired.”

Bradley stood there, not sure what to say. He wasn’t good at this—the comforting, the emotional stuff. That had always been Daniel’s role. But Daniel wasn’t here anymore, and Bradley was all Y/N had left. He stepped forward, cautiously, until he was right next to her.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” he said quietly. “I’m here for you. For Logan. For Keith.”

Y/N didn’t respond at first, just kept staring at the floor, the weight of everything crushing down on her. After a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice tight with suppressed emotion.

“You’re not Daniel, Bradley. You were barely ever here before that either.”

The words cut deep, but Bradley nodded, accepting them for what they were. He wasn’t Daniel. He couldn’t replace his brother, no matter how hard he tried. But he could be there for the family Daniel had left behind.

“I know,” Bradley said quietly. “But I’m still here.”

Y/N finally looked up at him, her eyes red and tired. There was no fight left in her, no anger, just a raw, aching grief that mirrored his own.

“Logan asked me yesterday if his dad was a hero,” she said, her voice barely audible.

Bradley’s throat tightened. “What did you say?”

She swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I didn’t know what to say. Fourteen times in my life I accused pilots of doing something wrong but never Daniel. I just told him… I told him his dad loved him. That was all I could get out.”

Bradley nodded slowly, his chest aching with a familiar sense of loss. “It’s enough. Logan doesn’t need the details. He just needs to know that his dad loved him. That’s what matters.”

Y/N’s eyes met his again, and for the first time since Daniel’s death, there was something other than anger or numbness there. Maybe it was acceptance. Maybe it was just exhaustion. But she didn’t push him away this time.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted quietly.

“You don’t have to figure it all out today,” Bradley replied. “Just take it one day at a time. I’ll be here. For whatever you need.”

Y/N nodded, her shoulders slumping as the weight of it all threatened to overwhelm her again. But this time, Bradley was there, standing beside her, ready to catch her if she fell.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

-----

Four years had passed since Daniel’s death, and life had moved on, even if it still carried the scars of that day. Y/N had thrown herself into her work, rising through the ranks until she became a detective, often working with specialized units like CSI. Her job demanded precision, focus, and a cool head under pressure—traits she’d developed while learning to balance being a widow and a mother to two boys.

It was 6:00 AM, and the alarm blared from her phone. Y/N groaned, stretching in her bed before she turned it off and rubbed her eyes. Another day, another case to solve. She threw the covers off and padded to the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror, she stared at herself. She turned on the faucet and grabbed her toothbrush, squeezing a small amount of minty toothpaste onto the bristles. The rhythmic motion of brushing her teeth was oddly soothing, a routine that anchored her at the start of each day. She brushed methodically, starting from the back molars, working her way to the front, the fresh taste of mint chasing away the dregs of sleep. After rinsing, she ran her tongue over her teeth, appreciating the smooth, clean feeling.

Next, she grabbed her brush and began working through her hair. Her hair had grown longer than she usually kept it, but she liked the way it looked now—professional but still a little wild. She worked through a few tangles, brushing from the roots to the ends until her hair was soft and smooth. She tied it back into a sleek ponytail, the style that was both functional and neat for her long days on the job.

Returning to the bedroom, Y/N opened her closet. She ran her fingers over the hangers, choosing a black tailored blazer and matching pants. A crisp white blouse underneath kept the look sharp but professional. Sliding the pants on first, she tucked in her blouse and fastened the blazer, making sure everything sat perfectly. She moved over to the full-length mirror by the closet door, adjusting her collar and sleeves. Her badge was clipped to the belt, a constant reminder of the responsibility she carried.

Finally, she walked over to the small safe tucked discreetly in her nightstand drawer. She spun the dial, opening the metal door with a quiet click. Inside sat her standard-issue Glock. The cold metal felt familiar in her hand as she checked it over, ensuring it was loaded and ready. She slipped the gun into its holster at her side, concealed beneath her blazer. One last glance in the mirror—she looked like a detective ready to take on whatever the day threw at her.

But before she could leave the house, there was one more challenge: waking up her boys.

Y/N headed down the hall to Logan’s room. At eleven, Logan was already turning into a miniature version of his father. He had Daniel’s stubbornness, for sure, and waking him up in the morning had become something of a battle over the years.

She knocked gently on the door. “Logan, it’s time to get up.”

There was no response. She sighed, opening the door and stepping into the room. Logan was buried under his blankets, only the top of his messy brown hair visible. His room was a mess, toys and clothes scattered across the floor, his desk cluttered with books and school papers.

“Logan,” Y/N said again, this time with more authority. “Get up. You’ve got school.”

A muffled groan came from beneath the blankets. “Five more minutes,” he mumbled.

Y/N smirked, walking over to the bed and gently pulling the covers down. Logan blinked up at her, his face creased from the pillow, eyes squinting in the early morning light.

“You said that yesterday,” she said, tapping his shoulder. “Come on. You don’t want to miss the bus.”

Logan groaned again, rolling over onto his back. “I’m not a morning person, Mom. You know that.”

“I do know that,” Y/N replied, crossing her arms. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you have to get up. Now.”

With a dramatic sigh, Logan finally sat up, rubbing his eyes. He stretched, his arms reaching above his head, and yawned loudly. “Fine, fine. I’m up.”

“Good,” Y/N said, walking back to the door. “Get dressed. Breakfast is in ten minutes.”

Logan gave a half-hearted nod, already shuffling towards his closet as Y/N left the room, leaving him to his slow morning routine.

Next was Keith. At five years old, he was still small and full of energy, but mornings weren’t his strong suit either. Y/N stepped into his room, where Keith was curled up in his bed, clutching his favourite stuffed animal—a well-worn bear named Buddy.

“Keith, time to wake up,” she said softly, kneeling beside his bed.

Keith stirred, his big brown eyes fluttering open as he looked up at her. He yawned, stretching his tiny arms out as he rubbed at his eyes. “Morning, Mama.”

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Y/N said with a smile. “Let’s get you ready for school, okay?”

Keith nodded sleepily, still half-asleep as Y/N helped him sit up. She pulled out a pair of pants and a T-shirt from his dresser, guiding him through getting dressed. His little fingers fumbled with the shirt buttons, so she crouched down and helped him fasten them.

Once he was dressed, she scooped him up and carried him to the bathroom, setting him down gently on the step stool by the sink. Keith blinked blearily as Y/N handed him his toothbrush, squeezing a bit of kid-friendly toothpaste onto the bristles.

“Here you go, buddy. Let’s brush those teeth.”

Keith obediently brushed, though his movements were slow and clumsy. Y/N kept a watchful eye, making sure he didn’t miss any spots. Once they were done, she wiped his mouth with a washcloth and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead.

“All set, champ. You’re ready for the day.”

Keith smiled, still a little groggy but looking more awake now. He reached for her hand as they left the bathroom, heading downstairs to join Logan for breakfast.

Y/N leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping her coffee and watching as her boys sat at the table. It was a non-uniform day at their school, which always meant a little more chaos in the morning, especially with Keith's boundless energy. The five-year-old was practically vibrating in his seat, bouncing up and down as he eagerly shovelled toast into his mouth.

"Keith, slow down," Logan said in a calm but firm voice, his tone carrying the weight of someone much older. At eleven, Logan had always been the quieter, more serious one—a reflection of his father in so many ways. While his younger brother practically buzzed with energy, Logan was a calm presence, though he often seemed like he was carrying the weight of the world on his small shoulders. she told Bradley everything would ruin him.

Keith barely paid attention, his legs swinging wildly under the table. “But it’s a non-uniform day! We don’t have to wear the stupid ties and stuff! And we’re bringing money to school! Can we buy sweets, Mama?”

Y/N smiled at the contrast between her two boys. Keith was practically bursting with excitement, his eyes wide and full of life. Meanwhile, Logan sat quietly in front of his cereal, poking at the milk with his spoon, his face expressionless.

“I gave Logan a tenner,” Y/N said, looking at her older son. “He’ll pay for both of you.”

Logan sighed and pushed his hair back, not too thrilled about his role as the responsible older brother but accepting it with his usual calm. “I’ll take care of it,” he said in his usual, even tone. “But Keith, you’ve gotta calm down. You’re gonna knock something over.”

Keith, of course, ignored the warning. “Can we buy, like, five packs of candy, Logan? And maybe some chocolate too!”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “No. That’s not what it’s for. We’re paying for the non-uniform day, not having a candy shopping spree.”

Keith pouted dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest, but he didn’t argue back. He knew better. “Fine,” he muttered, but within seconds, he was back to fidgeting in his seat, still brimming with excitement.

Y/N shook her head in amusement. “Logan’s right. The money is for school, not to load up on sweets. But maybe I’ll get you something after school if you both behave, okay?”

Keith perked up immediately. “Okay, Mama!”

Logan merely nodded, his expression unchanging. He took a slow bite of his cereal, clearly not as enthusiastic about the day as his younger brother. Y/N knew it wasn’t just about today—Logan had always been more introspective, more serious. He carried a quiet sadness sometimes, though he didn’t like to talk about it much. She knew he missed his father, even if he didn’t say it aloud. The weight of responsibility that had fallen on his young shoulders wasn’t something a boy his age should have to deal with.

Y/N glanced at the clock on the wall, mentally going through her schedule for the day. “I’ve got to work until four today,” she said, placing her mug down on the counter. “So Penny’s going to pick you both up from school, and you’ll hang out with Amelia until I’m off. That okay with you guys?”

Keith immediately bounced in his seat again. “Yay! I love hanging out with Amelia! She’s gonna let me play her video games, right? She said she would last time!”

Logan just nodded, taking another slow bite of his cereal. “That’s fine,” he said, his tone still calm and measured. “We’ll be okay.”

Y/N walked over and ruffled Logan’s hair, earning a slight frown from him as he smoothed it back down. “I know you will. You’re always a big help with Keith.”

Keith grinned at his brother, clearly not picking up on the subtle tension in Logan’s face. “Logan’s the best!��� he shouted, practically bouncing out of his chair now. “He’s gonna let me sit with him at lunch too!”

Logan sighed softly, glancing at his younger brother. “Yeah, sure. Just… calm down, okay?”

Y/N chuckled, finishing the last of her coffee before setting the cup down. She leaned against the counter, watching her boys—so different from each other, but in some ways, inseparable. Keith was a bright light, always full of energy and joy, while Logan had become her steady, serious boy, even though she wished he’d let himself be a kid more often.

“Alright, you two. Finish up your breakfast and get your shoes on. We need to leave in ten minutes,” Y/N said, gently nudging them along.

Keith practically jumped out of his chair, already halfway to the hallway to grab his sneakers, while Logan moved with his usual calm, taking his time to finish his cereal before he stood up.

Y/N glanced at Logan, her heart aching just a little as she watched him. “Logan,” she said softly, causing him to pause and look up at her. “You don’t always have to be the grown-up, you know. It’s okay to just… be a kid.”

Logan shrugged, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I know,” he said, but there was a distance in his voice, like he wasn’t quite convinced.

Y/N sighed softly, resisting the urge to push further. Logan was like that—quiet, introspective. He’d open up when he was ready, and she’d be there when he did.

“Alright, let’s go,” she said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Non-uniform day and no rushing. It’s a good start to the day, don’t you think?”

Logan gave a small, barely noticeable nod, and together they all headed out the door, Keith still chattering excitedly about his plans for the day while Logan walked quietly beside him, always the calm to his little brother’s storm.

---

Y/N had barely finished her second cup of coffee when her phone buzzed with a new case. She was standing in the precinct’s break room, chatting with her rookie partner, Officer Miles Daniels, when her phone went off. Glancing at the screen, her stomach sank as she read the details. A crash at Top Gun—the United States Navy Fighter Weapons School.

“Miles, grab your gear,” Y/N called over her shoulder as she quickly gathered her things. “We’ve got a case. We’re heading to Top Gun.”

Miles raised an eyebrow, still fresh-faced and eager after joining the detective unit, but he moved quickly, following her lead. “Top Gun? Isn’t that, like, military?”

“Yeah, it is,” Y/N responded, slipping her badge and gun into place as they made their way out of the precinct. “But if there’s civilian criminal activity involved, or something suspicious, we get pulled in. Plus, this isn’t just a crash—it’s a potential aircraft destruction case.”

As they made the short drive to the base, Y/N filled Miles in on what they were walking into. The pilot was in stable condition, but there was suspicion that the crash wasn’t just an accident. With a $15 million aircraft destroyed, the stakes were high.

When they arrived at the Naval base, the military security waved them through after checking their credentials. Y/N parked the car outside the main lobby of the base, and the two of them stepped out into the bright morning sun. The sprawling complex of hangars, runways, and state-of-the-art fighter jets stretched out in front of them.

Inside the lobby, they were met by Sergeant Tim Bradford, a stoic and no-nonsense detective who had recently transferred from LAPD to work more closely with specialized cases involving military personnel. Y/N had worked with him on a couple of cases before. He was tough, by the book, and not someone to mess with.

“Bradford,” Y/N greeted him with a nod as she and Miles approached.

“Detective Y/L/N,” Bradford replied, giving her a quick, respectful nod. His sharp blue eyes shifted briefly to Miles, sizing him up. “This your rookie?”

“Yeah, Officer Daniels,” Y/N introduced her partner. Miles nodded politely, though he seemed slightly nervous under Bradford’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Alright,” Bradford said, moving straight to business. “Here’s what we know: A pilot, callsign ‘Raptor,’ nosedived his F/A-18 Super Hornet straight into the runway early this morning. He’s in stable condition at the hospital, but that jet? It’s totalled—$15 million down the drain. The Navy’s doing their own investigation, but we’ve been brought in to determine if this was an intentional act or negligence.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she listened. “Any indication so far that it was deliberate?”

Bradford shook his head. “Not yet. The pilot claims he lost control, but there’s speculation he might have been pushed into it—pressure from his CO, maybe. And if we find anything that points to foul play, the Navy’s going to press charges for destruction of government property. That’s where we come in.”

Y/N nodded, exchanging a glance with Miles, who was taking everything in, trying to piece it all together. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s get to the crash site.”

As they made their way across the base toward the crash site, Y/N kept her eyes sharp. The walk was long, but it gave her a chance to mentally prepare. Aircraft crashes weren’t her usual territory, but the stakes were high, and she was used to pressure.

“I read up on the case file on the way here,” Miles said as they walked. “The pilot’s got a clean record—nothing disciplinary, no indication he’d do something like this on purpose.”

“Keep that in mind, but don’t jump to conclusions,” Y/N replied, her tone firm but patient. “We’re here to look at the evidence, not get caught up in speculation.”

As they neared the crash site, the wreckage of the once sleek fighter jet came into view. The front of the aircraft was crumpled, its nose smashed into the runway with debris scattered all around. Military personnel were already on the scene, cordoning off the area, but the sheer destruction was undeniable.

Y/N knelt down near the wreckage, scanning the area. The nose of the plane was completely destroyed, and the force of the impact had created deep cracks in the runway. It was clear that this hadn’t been a controlled landing.

“Jesus,” Miles muttered under his breath, his eyes wide as he looked over the wreckage.

“Yeah,” Y/N agreed grimly, standing up. “This wasn’t a small mistake.”

She turned to Bradford. “Have they ruled out mechanical failure?”

“They’re working on it,” Bradford said, crossing his arms as he surveyed the scene. “But so far, nothing obvious. It’s more likely a pilot error, but the pilot swears he was fully in control before the nosedive.”

Y/N nodded thoughtfully, walking around the wreckage. Her mind worked quickly, analysing the scene, looking for anything that didn’t quite fit. “We’ll need to talk to the ground crew who prepped the plane and the other pilots who were flying with him,” she said, glancing at Miles. “Something doesn’t add up here.”

Bradford nodded. “Already got the names. Ground crew’s being interviewed, and the flight team’s in the ready room waiting for you.”

Y/N exchanged a look with Miles. “Let’s get to it. The faster we figure out what happened here, the better.”

As Y/N and Miles made their way toward the hangar, they passed a group of aviators, all wearing their flight suits and looking equally serious and exhausted. Among them, a familiar face caught Y/N’s eye. The short moustache, the tousled sandy hair, and that unmistakable stance—it was Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat for a moment. She hadn’t seen Bradley in years, not since Daniel’s funeral. He looked older now, more worn by the weight of life, but still very much the kid brother of her late husband. Her heart squeezed at the sight of him, a wave of memories flooding back.

“Bradley?” she called out, her voice hesitant but filled with recognition.

Bradley turned at the sound of his name, his eyes widening as he saw her. “Y/N?” he said, a mix of surprise and relief crossing his face. “I can’t believe it. What are you doing here?”

They approached each other, and Y/N gave him a warm smile. “Detective now,” she explained, gesturing to her badge. “Working a case on base.”

Rooster gave a small smile, his eyes softening with a mix of nostalgia and respect. “It’s been a while.”

“Too long,” Y/N replied, though the weight of that statement hung between them. The unspoken grief over Daniel was still there, lingering in the air. But this wasn’t the time or place for a deep conversation about the past.

Bradley shook his head, a half-smirk playing on his lips. “I should’ve known you’d end up kicking ass as a detective.”

Y/N chuckled softly. “I try. And you—you’re an instructor now, huh? Flying with the best of the best?”

Bradley nodded. “Yeah, something like that. Let me introduce you to my wingman.” He turned, motioning toward a tall, confident-looking man standing a few feet away. “This is Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin.”

Jake stepped forward, offering a charming grin that seemed to light up his entire face. “Pleasure to meet you, Detective Y/L/N. Heard a lot about you,” he said smoothly, extending his hand.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. Jake’s grip was strong, but not overbearing. There was something about his demeanour—equal parts charm and arrogance—that made her feel like she needed to stay on her toes around him. He had that aura, the kind of guy who was used to turning heads and getting what he wanted.

“I hope it was all good things,” Y/N replied, her tone lightly teasing.

“All good,” Jake said with a wink, his southern drawl coming through in a way that made his words linger just a little too long. “Rooster’s mentioned how tough you are. Seems like you two go way back.”

“We do,” Y/N confirmed, glancing at Rooster with a fond smile. “Family.”

There was a pause as the moment settled between them, and then Jake spoke up again. “So, what brings you to our little corner of the sky? I assume it’s not just a social visit.”

Y/N shifted back into professional mode, nodding. “We’re investigating the crash. The pilot—‘Raptor,’ I believe—is in stable condition, but there’s a possibility this wasn’t just pilot error. We need to determine if this was deliberate or negligence. My job is to figure out what went wrong and, if necessary, who’s responsible.”

Rooster exchanged a look with Jake, both of them clearly intrigued but also guarded. “We’re the instructors for this group,” Bradley said. “But we don’t know much beyond that. Raptor’s a good pilot—this isn’t something you’d expect from him.”

Jake nodded in agreement. “Yeah, kid’s sharp. Cocky, sure, but we’ve all been there. He’s not the kind to pull a stunt like this unless something went wrong.”

Y/N folded her arms, considering their words. “So no inside information? Nothing unusual in his behaviour or flight patterns before the crash?”

Both men shook their heads. “No,” Rooster replied. “Everything seemed normal during the briefing and take-off. Whatever happened, it must’ve been in the air.”

“Or in his head,” Jake added, his expression thoughtful. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s going on up there, even with the best pilots.”

Y/N nodded, appreciating their input. “Alright, well, here’s what we’ve got so far,” she said, launching into a detailed explanation.

“The crash happened early this morning. Raptor nosedived into the runway, and while he’s alive, the aircraft is totalled. The Navy’s investigating the mechanical side, but they want us to assess whether there was any human interference—either pressure from above, negligence, or if this was intentional. The stakes are high. A $15 million jet destroyed can’t just be written off as an accident without a full inquiry. We’re looking into everything: the ground crew, flight logs, maintenance records, and Raptor’s personal state of mind.”

Bradley listened intently, his arms crossed over his chest, while Jake’s eyes narrowed, taking it all in. “That’s serious,” Rooster finally said, his voice low. “If there’s any suspicion of intentional sabotage or negligence, he’s looking at major charges.”

“Exactly,” Y/N agreed. “We’re trying to avoid that if it’s not warranted, but we need to be thorough.”

Jake leaned against the side of a nearby truck, his expression a mix of intrigue and something close to admiration. “Well, Detective, you’ve got your work cut out for you. Anything we can do to help?”

Y/N smiled at him, though her mind was already racing with the possibilities. “Just stay close in case we need anything. I might need to talk to the other pilots too.”

Rooster nodded. “We’ll be around. And hey, it’s good to see you again, Y/N.”

“You too, Bradley,” she replied softly before glancing back at Jake, who gave her one last charming grin as they walked away.

“Don’t be a stranger, Detective,” Jake called after her with a wink.

---

The four-hour mark at the crash site. The long day was wearing on both of them, but Y/N was no stranger to gruelling hours. She had spent countless days on crime scenes, sifting through endless evidence, and poring over tiny details that could make or break a case. Yet, this one seemed different—something about it felt dead in the water.

They had examined the wreckage from every angle, spoken to the ground crew, double-checked the maintenance logs, and even consulted with the flight team. But nothing substantial had emerged to indicate foul play. It seemed more and more like a tragic case of pilot error, despite the nagging feeling in Y/N’s gut that something wasn’t right.

She straightened up from where she had been crouching near the debris, wiping her hands on her jeans and squinting in the fading light. Miles walked over, notebook in hand, looking exhausted but still eager.

“What do you think, Detective?” Miles asked, his voice quieter than usual, likely from the hours of tension.

Y/N sighed, her eyes scanning the crumpled remains of the jet one last time. “I think this is a dead case for us,” she admitted reluctantly. “There’s no solid evidence of foul play, no suspicious activity leading up to the crash. It’s looking more like a tragic mistake than anything else.”

Miles nodded slowly, clearly taking her lead, though he looked a little deflated. “So, we’re calling it?”

“We’ll let the Navy finish their mechanical investigation, but as far as our end goes, yeah, I’m calling it,” Y/N said, her tone final but not unkind. “You did good today, Miles. I know it’s not the ending we were hoping for, but sometimes cases just don’t pan out the way you think they will.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, scratching the back of his neck. “I get it. But it’s frustrating.”

“It is,” she said, giving him a small smile. “But that’s part of the job. Let’s head back. I’ll debrief with Rooster and Hangman, and we’ll wrap this up.”

Together, they made their way back toward where Rooster and Hangman had been waiting by the hangar. Y/N could see them leaning against the side of a truck, deep in conversation. When they saw her and Miles approaching, Rooster straightened up, his expression expectant.

“How’s it looking?” Rooster asked, his tone hopeful but cautious.

Y/N shook her head. “Not much to go on. I’m calling it a dead case for us. The Navy can finish their investigation, but we haven’t found anything that suggests sabotage or intentional destruction.”

Rooster sighed softly, nodding in understanding. “Alright, thanks for looking into it anyway. I know Raptor’s not going to be thrilled, but it’s better than a criminal charge hanging over his head.”

At that moment, Miles stepped forward, looking a little nervous but determined. “Actually, Lieutenant Bradshaw, I still have a few more questions for you—just to tie up some loose ends.”

Rooster raised an eyebrow but gave a nod, turning his attention fully to Miles. “Sure thing, Officer. What do you need?”

As Rooster and Miles moved off to the side, Y/N turned to see Jake “Hangman” Seresin watching her with that signature grin plastered across his face. His charm seemed almost effortless, like it was second nature to him.

“Well, Detective,” Hangman said, pushing off from the truck and sauntering over to her with a slight swagger. “Since Rooster’s busy, how about I walk you to your car? It’s the least I can do after you’ve been out here all day in the sun.”

Y/N chuckled, feeling the tension in her shoulders begin to ease for the first time in hours. There was something disarming about Hangman’s confidence. Normally, she would’ve felt guarded, maybe even slightly intimidated by a guy like him. But right now? For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel that way.

“Sure,” she said with a smirk. “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

They began walking across the tarmac together, the gentle evening breeze cooling the hot air from the long day. Hangman kept pace beside her, his hands tucked casually into his flight suit pockets, his easy smile never faltering.

“So,” he began, his tone light, “you’re telling me that after spending four hours out here investigating a crash and coming up empty, you still manage to look this good? I’ve got to say, I’m impressed.”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, though she couldn’t help but smile. “Is that your best line, Lieutenant? You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“Maybe,” Hangman drawled, his Texas accent coming through thick. “But I figure, why mess with what works?”

Y/N shook her head, but she was still smiling. “Is this how you charm all the women you meet?”

He gave her a faux-hurt expression. “Not all the women, Detective. Just the ones who look like they could outsmart me and outshoot me in the same day.”

Y/N laughed, a real laugh, and she realized how rare that had become. Jake was flirty, sure, but in a way that wasn’t overbearing or disrespectful. He wasn’t pushing boundaries—just toeing the line, making her feel lighter after such a long, draining day.

As they reached her car, she stopped, turning to face him. Hangman looked down at her with a playful spark in his eyes, clearly not ready to let the moment end.

“Well, thanks for the escort, Lieutenant Seresin,” Y/N said, her voice softer now. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her work card, handing it to him. “Here. This has my number on it—in case you ever feel like texting. I’m… open to it.”

For a moment, Jake looked surprised, but that charming smile returned quickly as he took the card from her hand. His fingers brushed hers lightly, sending a small spark up her arm. “Now, that’s an offer I won’t pass up,” he said smoothly, tucking the card into his pocket. “You can expect a text soon, Detective. Count on it.”

Y/N felt a strange flutter in her chest as she smiled at him one last time, sliding into her car. As she closed the door and started the engine, Jake stepped back, giving her a two-finger salute before watching her drive away.

For the first time in years, the idea of someone flirting with her didn’t make her feel guarded or anxious. Instead, it felt… nice. Maybe it was Hangman’s easy-going confidence, or maybe it was just time for her to feel something other than the weight of responsibility. Either way, she wasn’t opposed to seeing where things might lead.

As she drove away from the base, Y/N glanced at her phone in the cup holder. And for the first time in a long while, she found herself hoping that a certain charming fighter pilot would follow through on his promise.

[luna0713hunter]

I just saw you opened your fall prompts and I had to request you something!! Could I request prompts 3 and 15 for Zoro? Maybe the straw hats all decide to go for a night out and dress up and the reader and Zoro have a cute moment outside? Maybe some little teasing from the other crew members? Thank you so much!

Author's note : welcome to my Autumn prompt!!! you're the first request and I'm so excited to write this!!!i hope you enjoy it!!! Kick back,and wrap a warm blanket around yourself! Get cozy ^^

"I'm cold," "come here,let me warm you up."

"making you wear their jacket when you're too stubborn to dress properly."

Based on this prompt

Zoro Roronoa x reader

Warnings : none! Super fluffy,pet names,you being stubborn and Zoro being too lovesick to get tired with your shit,cute couple (you), annoying crewmates,reader is said to wear a dress but is gender neutral otherwise

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

"you're seriously going out like that?"

"yes!its not too cold and I'm not changing."

"you do realize if it gets any colder, we'll have snow."

"well I'm not cold!and i love this dress,so no changing!"

Zoro grumbles something under his breath,and you grin when he finally relents. When you skip over to where he's leaning against your doorframe and cheekily wrap your arms against his (muscular) bicep,he sighs when you flutter your eyes up at him.

"why are you being so stubborn?you know it's cold outside."

"because we never have the opportunity to dress up so nicely!!and now that the guys have decided to celebrate somewhere nice,who am i to turn such a great opportunity to dress nicely, down?"

Zoro merely mutters a 'whatever' and starts walking. Even upset with you,he reaches back and wraps his bigger hand around your smaller one,and when you finally step outside,you swallow thickly;its fucking freezing.

You unconsciously press yourself closer to Zoro's warm side;feeling his leather jacket on your bare arms. The dress you've chosen has no sleeves,and the top of your chest is particularly exposed to the cold weather. You mentally curse yourself for not listening to Zoro,but you'll be damned if you admit it to his face. So instead,you swallow down the nervousness you feel for staying in such weather for the rest of the night in that dress,and wave at your crewmates who're waiting for the two of you.

"damn y/n,you look nice." You laugh at Usopp's comment and when Nami gives you a meaningful wink and looks at Zoro's direction,you feel slightly warmer.

But not enough to stop your teeth from clattering together as you start walking with your crewmates in the freezer streets. After few minutes of walking ,however,your mind starts to wonder off to how cozy and warm everyone's clothes seem to be. You only nod and hum at your friends' questions or jokes,and try to particularly melt yourself into Zoro's side. So when that's not enough and the cold becomes too unbearable,you let out a small sneeze that has everybody falling silence and turning their attention to you.

You rub your reddened nose with your numb fingers and then let out your warm breath on them. You clench and unclench them a few times so you could return some feeling to them and look up at them sheepishly.

"you alright there,dear?"

You nod kindly at Sanji's question,and then Luffy puts a comforting hand on your bare shoulder.

"we can go back if you're too cold."

"Thanks Cap," you grin, "but i can handle it."

Just as Luffy opens his mouth to respond,a sudden warmth engulfs your form.

And your hands immediately raise up to cling to the source.

When you look down,you see a familiar jacket around shoulders. Strong hands pull the front closer to one another and gentle fingers close the zipper.

The sweet scent of your boyfriend adds up to the cozy warmth and you let out small content noise.

You turn around and smile shyly up at the swordsman, watching as he raises a brow and when he sees some color returning to your cheeks,he sighs.

"warmer?"

"very." You raise on your tiptoes and presse a gentle kiss to his slightly cold nose, "thank you,babe."

When you feel his fingers interlock with yours ,you frown slightly upon feeling his cold fingers; lending you his jacket,Zoro was particularly standing there only in a thin shirt. So you tug at his hand to get his attention and when you have it,you smile again.

"I'm still cold."

Zoro only huff and with a hand on your waist,pulls you to his chest.

"come here,let me warm you up."

You're so happy to be in his embrace and bury your face in his chest to relish his natural warmth,that you completely forget about your surroundings. And then Zoro wraps his protective arms around your waist to press his lips to yours. His lips are so warm and when they move against yours,you feel warmth spreading across your core and all over your body.

And you would've continued kissing him right there,in the middle of the street,if it wasn't for the loud wolf whistling suddenly coming from behind you.

"dude,if we're interrupting just tell us!"

"get a room you two!"

"and just as i thought the mooshead had no human emotions in him."

"I'm hungry,can you continue this in the restaurant?"

When you hear Zoro scowl above you to his crewmates,you laugh happily and squeeze his waist.

"let's go."

And as Zoro drops a loving kiss to your forehead and wraps his arm around your shoulder to lead you behind the others,you feel even warmer ; Zoro wont ever let you feel cold. Not ever again

[spacebarbarianweird]

The Dragon Made of Threads

Synopsis: Astarion is making a gift for you.

Tags: fluff

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion’s mind doesn’t let him rest. 

The reverie is supposed to be a blessing, the only way for the True People to remember their long lives. But his long life was nothing but misery until  very recently and he keeps being dragged into the darkness.

Oh, Astarion was so naive to believe it could have been over by killing his master and having the “rebirth” experience on the grave. 

His past haunts him.

“You are tired,” you touch his forehead as if trying to sense fever. “You need some rest.”

“My sweet, elves can survive without trance for a week. And I am undead. I am fine.”

“You don't look fine. You have dark circles and your eyelids are puffy again. You need to rest.”

“No, I don’t!” He tries to sound confident but instead his voice resembles a rebellious teenager.

You are right, of course. The elves can survive without reverie for a week, the same way non-elves can make it through one or two sleepless nights. Then, the body and mind collapse. 

But entering the reverie… Reliving tortures and humiliation… Feeling the same sense of misery and horror and hopelessness… No, he can’t do that. Not now. Not ever.

You are ready to sleep - it’s the first time in a month that you sleep in the room, not in the tent - the thick curtains protect Astarion from the merciless sun. 

“Please,” you yawn. “Meditate.”

“I will.”

“Don’t lie to me, please, I know when you are dishonest.”

Astarion grins. “Oh, my sweet, I am no liar. I am going to reverie once you fall asleep. I just like watching you when the dreams take over you.”

“Astarion, when you say the truth your eyes are wide open. When you smirk, you lie. Listen, maybe I can do something? Something to make you… think about something pleasant? It’s been a year! There are a lot of good memories to relive. Let’s just find a way to point your mind in the right direction!”

A year of good memories. Well, a little bit more. Four months of having a tadpole in his brain, experiencing freedom and sunlight, falling in love, learning how to feel again, and how to be alive. All these memories are precious, even the ones he is embarrassed about. For example, using you in his own favor. It doesn’t matter you’ve forgiven him - it still hurts.

Astarion sighs and lies beside you. Your arms immediately wrap around him. The familiar warmth is so tender that Astarion lets himself slip away into the reverie.

He is indeed tired.

He needs to rest.

But instead of grasping a good memory, a pleasant or at least bearable, his mind collapses into the abyss.

Chained to the wall. Bleeding. Hurting. He can’t scream anymore. It’s an old memory from when he was still hoping. He begs for mercy but no one listens. Hunger. Pain. Blood. Again, again. 

The master is whistling, carving the symbols on Astarion’s back with a silver dagger. The cursed metal feels like melted lava.

Astarion doesn’t need to sleep, neither does the vampire lord. 

This is your life, forever. You are doomed. No one will save you.

No! No! It’s not true! It will end! It will take two centuries, two long and miserable centuries, but it will come to an end! 

Astarion screams in the past until his throat burns.

“Astarion! Astarion!”

He feels the warm hands shaking his shoulders. He returns to reality like a drowned man from the dark waters, numb and restless.

You don’t say anything and he collapses into your arms, crying like a lost child.

“I can’t… I can’t… I need to rest… But I can’t…”

His back… His back is still bleeding, he can feel it, but your fingers caress the scars. It’s all over. It’s been more than a year. He will never return to those dungeons. No one will ever mutilate him again.

You let him go and pick up the travel sack in the corner. 

“I bought something at the potion merchant. I think it might help.”

“Please, I - I can… handle…”

You take out a bottle with a golden liquid. 

Angelic sleep potion.

The only way to make an elf experience regular sleep.

“No.”

“Astarion, what choice do you have? One more day like this and you won’t be able to walk on your own. You need it.”

“No! I am not drinking this! My mind keeps bringing me real nightmares and I have heard  all about the creepy dreams and nightmares the sleeping mind can weave!”

“But it won't be reality! Besides, when a non-elf is exhausted like you, they don’t see dreams.”

“But I won’t be able to escape it. With reverie at least I know it’s a memory!”

You sit beside Astarion and hug him. “Please. If you don’t want to do this for yourself, do this for me. I can’t see you suffering like this.”

Astarion sighs. “You are manipulative, you know?”

“Learned from a professional”.

Astarion adjusts himself back on the  bed and opens the bottle. The potion smells intoxicating. “But I do this only for you.”

“And I am grateful for your sacrifice.”

Astarion drains the bottle and before he manages to acknowledge anything, sleep takes him.

He sees visions and images. Places and people. Some are familiar, and some are not. His mind weaves the dreams out of emotions, memories, and experiences. 

Astarion dreams of a dragon.

It’s an ancient species of dragons, otherworldly. A majestic creature capable of carrying a dragon rider on its back.

Astarion rides this dragon above the Trackless Sea. There is nothing but the water and open blue skies.

And the sun.

It feels like cat fur on his skin, gentle and warm. 

Astarion wakes up still dizzy with the unrealness of what he saw. 

And he feels amazing.

His body is rested, and his mind is clear. The dream was so vivid that Astarion would believe he was once a dragon rider if he didn’t know about the weird fantasies of non-elven dreams.

He looks at you, sound asleep in the bed. His. You are his. And he is yours. What a sheer amount of luck made you meet each other? And how lucky he is you chose him.

It is still afternoon, hours before the sunset and he knows too well you won't wake up till evening.

Astarion needs to occupy himself with something. He gets up, stretches his arms, and then sees your traveling cape on the floor. 

“Such a messy little thing”, he chuckles. Astarion picks up the cape and notices a hole in the fabric.

Astarion takes his sewing kit from the traveling sack. He loves repairing things for you - complaining all the way, of course - but he never lets you sew yourself.

And then the idea comes to his mind.

Instead of black threads, he picks the red ones. It takes him a few attempts to understand how to do that but then the stitches come naturally from his fingers.

A dragon soaring in the skies. A divine creature from other planes. A beast that came to him in his dreams.

Astarion carefully embroiders the body of the dragon, then the wings and a stream of fire from its mouth.

He still has a lot of threads left and he starts embroidering the other dragon on the opposite side of the cape. 

Then he notices something has changed.

The curtain is wide open and the moonlight streams inside the room. You sit beside him, smiling at his work.

“Oh, sorry, my sweet. I’ve been carried away…”

“It’s all right. I like watching you sew. But it’s the first time I see you making something like this.”

“Do you like it?”

“Of course!” you touch the embroidered dragons. “So real! I didn’t know you could do such things!”

“I- I’ve seen them. In a dream.”

The tender fingers touch his curls. “You’ve rested, haven’t you?”

“Yes. I have,” Astarion hands you the cape. “If you want, I can add more. I just need more threads”.

You smile and kiss him. “Of course, I do. Thank you.”

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe 

[milaisreading]

Isagi sister y/n x Sae? She was in love with y/n for a long time and he was planning to confess to her. While all this time y/n was thinking that Sae was gay for Shidou after she saw their matches together. When he confessed to her, y/n told him that isn't he is gay for Shidou.

🌱🩷: I was supposed to be studying this morning, but your idea was funny so I had to write it. Thanks for the request!

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura ⚽️

"Hmmm..." Sae muttered as he looked at the screen of his phone. Over the past few days that was how most people could find him, just sitting and looking at his phone. From time to time, his expressions would change, but that was only if you looked at him fast enough. A lot of people might say it was pre-final game jitters, but whoever knew Sae enough knew that wasn't true. Rin, Isagi, and Shidou would sometimes ask if je was ok, but all they would get is a short nod from him.

'I hope he won't be acting weird tonight. We really need to have his head in the game if we want to win the World cup.' Rin sighed as he received another short nod from Sae.

"What's up with Undereyelashes senior? Did you two have another fight?" Shidou snickered, earning an annoyed look from Rin. But, before the younger could yell back at him, Isagi stepped in between them. They didn't need all of this hours before their final game with Germany!

"Just calm down everyone. Let's leave Sae-san alone for now."

'Be honest when confessing, and also be smooth about it?' Sae frowned as he read through the guide.

'I hate these internet advice sites.' Sae groaned, putting the phone away and rubbing his eyes. He was tired, very tired from all the training, but also from keeping all these emotions under wrap for the past few months. Sae Itoshi wasn't someone who saw himself falling in love with anyone, heck, he never saw himself having a crush! But, here he was, hours before his final game at the World cup, he was busy figuring out a way to confess his feelings for (Y/n).

'This is ridiculous. I should have done this before the game. But, only if I win tonight will I see myself worthy of her.' Sae shook his head as a blush spread across his face.

"I will take a walk." The rehead muttered to himself as he walked out of the room Rin  Shidou, and he shared.

"Are you not nervous? The final game kept mom, dad, and I up all night." The older Itoshi froze in his footsteps as he heard the voice of the one person that's been haunting his thoughts for the past months.

'(Y/n)...' Sae gulped as he observed her and Yoichi's interaction.

"I was nervous days prior, now I am just numb to everything." Yoichi shrugged his shoulders as (Y/n) poked his cheek.

'Wish she would do that to me-Is that Yoichi's jersey she is wearing?!' Sae gulped as he noticed the familiar clothing item, which caused a weird wave of jealousy to hit him.

"Hm?" Feeling eyes on them, (Y/n) turned to look at Sae, and gave him a smile and wave.

"Sae-san! Ready for the game later?!"

Yoichi looked back as well, noticing the blush on the older's cheeks.

"You finally got out of your room?"

"Finally?" (Y/n) asked in confusion, but instead of getting an answer, the boy turned around and quickly walked away.

"Maybe he is nervous?" (Y/n) suggested, watching in sadness as Yoichi chuckled a little.

"Hard to imagine. He basically breaths football." He answered back, earning a nod from (Y/n).

'I think he might be panicking because him and Shidou are in the same team again. After all, I know all to well how it feels to be close to someone you love, but can't tell them that.' She thought as her expression fell a little.

'I wish he liked me like I like him. But, Shidou is the one he wants.'

"Let's go and get some food. I can't play on an empty stomach." Yoichi said as he pulled (Y/n) towards the exit.

"Sure..."

'Maybe,in another life he would like me back.'

Meanwhile, Sae was having a small breakdown in the bathroom.

'That smile... shit, it's so cute! She is so sweet and caring, how can one not fall for her.' Sae thought as he washed his face, hoping the cold water might help his blush.

"That smile, the voice, the eyes, everything is way too ethereal about her. I need to get this off of my chest as soon as possible." Sae took a few deep breaths.

"Shit, get your head into the game, Sae. You can't embarrass yourself in front of (Y/n) tonight."

A few hours later, the game was about to start. The stadium had a special euphoria haunting it, something neither the Japanese or German team felt before. Was it because it's the final game? Was it the loud cheers from the Japanese fans? They didn't know, but they definitely enjoyed it... some more than the others.

"Sae-chan! Ready for the game? You finally got off your high horse?!" Sae flinched as Shidou jumped on his back and yelled into his ear.

"Get off!" Sae yelled, shoving Shidou off of his back and looked back to where (Y/n) was sitting (he had to beg Yoichi to tell him where her seat was). Sending her a small wave, the girl returned it, then she looked back to where Yoichi was.

"YO-CHAN, DO YOUR BEST!!"

Sae sighed dreamily as he heard her yell, ignoring the small jealousy he felt for Yoichi at the moment.

'I wish she would cheer me on like that.'

"I WILL!!" Yoichi was heard yelling back, looking away from Kaiser for a moment.

"Hmm? Who is that? Your girlfriend?" Sae froze for a moment as he heard Kaiser's voice, then looked at the blonde, who had an amused smirk as he stared back at (Y/n).

'Don't look at her, you creep.' The redhead narrowed his eyes and walked over to where Kaiser and Yoichi were.

"Eww! That's my older sister, you dumbass." The blue-eyed boy cringed, which only amused Kaiser more.

"Even better, then. Hope the cutie will not faint from all the magnificent goals she is about to witness from me."

Hearing his words Yoichi recovered from his disgust and sent a warning glare in Kaiser's direction.

"Stay away from her."

"And if I don't?" Kaiser challenged as Sae arrived at Yoichi's side.

"Just shut up. The game is about to start."

Although his voice sounded monotone, that was far from what he felt inside.

It was a tiring 95 minutes of the game. With Sae, Rin, and Yoichi scoring on one side, and Kaiser and Ness on the other, but they made it. Neither the players or the fans could believe it. Japan actually won the Cup. The players of the Japanese team collapsed on the ground after Yoichi scored the final goal, too tired and excited to do much, while the fans were the ones erupting in screams of joy and crying.

"YOICHI!! YOU DID IT!!" The said boy laughed a little as (Y/n) ran up to give him a tight hug, tears streaming down her own face.

"I am so proud of you!" She cried out as Yoichi hugged her back.

"Thanks... without you and our parents' support I wouldn't be here." The boy said back as they separated.

"You are too humble." She pouted, but before she could say anything else, Sae interrupted the conversation.

"(Y/n), can I talk to you for a moment?" The boy asked, looking oddly nervous to the two siblings.

"Sure." She nodded her head as Sae led them to a more private area, or at least a spot where there were no cameras.

"What did you need? And congrats on winning! Your goal earlier was amazing!!" (Y/n) said, which boosted Sae's ego even more up.

"Thanks, glad that you liked it. But, I called you here to talk about something else."

"What is it?" (Y/n) wandered, part of her wanting to ask why he was with her, when he could be celebrating with Shidou.

'Maybe he needs dating advice?' She mused.

"I wanted to tell you this for a while now... I really like- I mean, love, I really love you."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened in shock and her face turned red as Sae continued.

"You are always so calm and kind to others, you were even kind to me after I acted like a jerk the first time we met. I am not really one to fall in love, I never imagined myself in this position, but I am glad that it is you who I fell for."

"Sae... wait, so... so you don't like Shidou-san?" She asked, trying to process everything. Sae stopped talking and looked at the girl in bewilderment.

"Why would I like him of all people?"

"It's just... you both look so close. And your interactions during the U-20 match, I thought that you like him..." (Y/n) admitted, nervously playing with her fingers. Sae was pretty much speechless for a good 2 minutes, ignoring everyone around himself as he sighed.

"I only love you. Shidou is a friend, I will admit that, but I don't see hin as anything more." Sae spoke as he took her hands into his. (Y/n) got more flustered as she avoided Sae's eyes for a moment, but eventually spoke up as well.

"I.... I love you as well. I have for a while now." She stuttered out while looking up at Sae. The boy felt a variety of emotions hit him, but the one that stood out the most was happiness. Pure, utter happiness.

"That makes you mine, from now on. And I will be yours." He said, kissing the embarrassed girl on the cheek.

"I am glad then." She laughed a little.

[black-aurora-nora]

That's What You Get (Yandere!Hawks x Pregnant!Reader)

SERIOUS WARNING: This is an extremely disturbing read with themes and topics that include: suicidal tendencies, cursing, verbal abuse, blood, self-harm, infantilism, forced pregnancy, purposeful miscarriage, descriptions of gore, physical abuse and mentions of rape.

Please read with caution as you have been warned of the heavy subjects present in this story.

You wondered to yourself what you did to deserve all of this.

What god had decided to push all their anger unto your poor, unfortunate soul with such mercilessness?

What events led you to meeting a red-winged devil pretending to be an angel?

A hot hand grabbed at your hand without warning, yanking it away from your mouth. A trail of bloodied saliva followed and you only then noticed the familiar taste of blood on your tongue.

"Can you fucking stop?" Dabi hissed, turquoise eyes glaring deep into your hazed ones. "Do you want Hawks to lose his shit again?"

Yes, is what you wanted to say. You wanted Hawks to watch as you bit into your fingers with little thought. You wanted him to see how numb you were from all his abuse. You wanted him to know that he did this.

He was the reason you were broken now.

You didn't answer his question or even bother to truly look at him, only bringing your other hand to your mouth and biting down.

Your nail cracked against your teeth and felt slight satisfaction when Dabi cursed again and had to grab both your hands to keep you from doing any further damage to yourself.

"God dammnit, Y/N!" He growled, grabbing the attention of nearby league members scattered about the hideout. "Can someone please take this stupid bitch? I am not babysitting that hero's fuck doll today!"

Entering the room with a long sigh, Mr. Compress switched places with the purple-skinned villain, a first aid kit in tow.

When Dabi exited from the room, a dry chuckle left you but disappeared just as quickly as it came.

That's how most feelings worked for you now. They'd come and go. You were never allowed to truly feel anything for longer than 10 seconds.

Compress eyed you disappointingly, "It's not funny, Y/N." He scolded as he began to wrap your fingers, "Hawks told you to take better care of yourself. The more you put yourself at risk, the harder this pregnancy will be in the long run.

You stilled at that, nausea rising to your throat at the painful memories of Hawks holding you down against the cold, tiled floor and his warm, smooth cum filling your bruised cunt to the brim despite your cries.

That was followed by many more nights painted the same way.

A month later, you found out you were pregnant after Hawks had tested your toilet water.

The bastard was happier than ever but that happiness went right out the window when he caught you attempting to throw yourself down a set of stairs later that day. You'd even looked him in the eyes as you'd started to fall.

It was too bad that he'd caught you. That fall definitely would've done the trick.

After numerous other attempts, the hero finally decided that while he was gone, someone had to be with you at all times for both you and the baby's parasite's protection.

"Done-" Compress finished wrapping the bandages around you fingers, "-Have you eaten lunch yet?"

No, you hadn't. You hadn't moved from your curled position on the couch since Hawks left way earlier that morning.

To please Compress, you ate a few bites of what he made you and sipped some of the soup Hawks had packed for you.

Soon, you were back in your corner of the couch, filling in the permanent dent that you’d made from sitting there for so long.

You shivered as you hugged yourself.

Despite wearing a sweater and leggings with thick socks, you always felt so cold. Even if you were sweating, you were still cold.

You wondered why that was.

And now that you were left alone with your thoughts, you began to wonder other things.

Was your family regretting giving you to Hawks?

How long had it been since you'd seen them?

Did they even care?

What would they think if you escaped now and showed up pregnant?

Would they even believe you if you told them what Hawks did?

They’d probably think you were a slut.

A good for nothing whore that would do anything to get money.

Your head felt like it was about to explode.

Everything felt so meaningless now.

Why did this happen to you? Why couldn't you get control of your life again?

You placed a hand on your stomach, feeling the small hump that would soon be bigger and heavier in just a few months.

And then you'd have to push it out while it tore your pussy apart. Then you'd have to heal for who knows how long, taking care of a screaming, shitting lump while Hawks goes out and lives however he pleases.

As he always has.

...

Were you really supposed to just sit here and accept that?

That's what Hawks wanted you to do.

But how the hell could you?

"Baby, I'm back!" Hawks beamed as he walked up to you, stealing a kiss to your cheek. His smiled faded slightly, however, when he saw your bandaged fingers, "Aw, (Y/N), were you biting your fingers again?"

You didn't answer. You never really did anymore, much to his annoyance.

He sighed deeply and turned to Compress, asking him about how you'd done throughout the day. His expression only soured further at the villain's words and he glanced down at you with unimpressed eyes.

"Alright, thank you guys again for watching her-" He picked you up bridal style, "We'll be back next week as discussed."

The flight home was eerily quiet. You could tell that Hawks was upset with you. But he couldn't be nearly as upset as you were. But you knew he never thought about how you felt.

Everything was always about him.

When you both got home to his condominium, he sat you on the couch, unwrapping and examining your damaged fingers.

His lips were downturned and his brows were furrowed. His golden eyes weren't as bright as they'd been previously.

He wasn't happy with you at all.

Good.

His face made you giddy for some reason and you couldn't stop the corners of your lips from twitching upwards. It was so great that you could almost laugh with genuine joy.

Hawks' snapped his eyes up to you with wide, unbelieving eyes.

Shit, you must've laughed without realizing it.

No, wait.

You were crying.

"Oh, (Y/N), it's alright.” He cooed, “I know you'll do better for me and the baby next time, right?" That was a threat and you felt your mood plunge at the mention of the baby parasite resting in you. "Right?"

"Yeah..." You mumbled robotically. You could give less shits about the baby.

Hawks wasn't happy with how you'd responded but shrugged it off with a mumble of 'pregnancy hormones' and started to make dinner.

Ever since he’d found out you were pregnant, he made you take it easy. No unnecessary movement, as he liked to phrase it.

“So…” Keigo started, washing some rice in a bowl, “you’ve got your first appointment coming up next week. How’d’ya feel?”

You touched your growing stomach underneath your loose t-shirt. Was it really time for that?

No, no this couldn’t be.

If Hawks made you wait too long, you won’t be able to get rid of it and then you’ll really be stuck.

Nausea came back full force and you retched aloud, stomach curling. You turned away from the table and threw up the little bit of lunch you’d had earlier.

Keigo was by your side in a flash, rubbing your back when you continued to retch and gag.

“The morning sickness is becoming more frequent now, huh?” He asked, “Here, rinse your mouth with some water.” His feathers brought over a small cup of water and a bowl for you to spit into.

After rinsing your mouth out, you glanced up at Keigo, something you hadn’t done in a long time and saw how he visibly brightened when you did so.

“Please, Kei… I don’t-I don’t want this.” You told him honestly, your voice heavy with misery.

He instantly frowned at that, lips turning downwards and eyes going sharp, “What did I tell you about talking like that, (Y/N)? What the hell is wrong with you?!” He snapped, feathers shaking.

You stared at him as if he weren’t there and shrugged, “I guess you won’t know until the baby’s dead.”

“You don’t mean that.” He seemed to be telling himself that because deep down… deep down he knew that you meant it. “(Y/N), you don’t mean that.”

You felt the corners of your mouth lift again, “I’m not going to my first appointment because there will be no baby. Hell, there weren’t even be a (Y/N) to take to the appointment.” Now you were really smiling, no more tears to give.

Hawks feathers shook more, a hopeless look graced his features as he brought a hand to his mouth, “(Y/N), I-“ He looked away from your wide smile and void eyes, he couldn’t stand to look at you anymore, “What is happening to you? A baby is supposed to make you happy! Why isn’t this working?”

He walked away without another word, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

A burning smell caught your attention and you stepped over your vomit puddle to turn off the chicken he was cooking on the stove.

You took the pan off the still hot burner and placed it on the back one.

If only a burn could kill you.

A glint in your peripheral vision caught your eye and you snapped your head towards the sink. Your eyes widened.

There, like the forbidden fruit, sat a large kitchen knife. You realized Keigo must’ve left it when he was arguing with you.

Now was your chance.

You gripped the knife in both your hands.

You hadn’t seen a knife in so long. Keigo had locked them up when you started ‘acting up’.

You lifted it above your head.

Deep breath in.

Hold it.

You swiftly brought the knife down into your stomach. It slid right in like butter and you surprisingly didn’t feel anything.

With a shaky breath, you looked down and stumbled awkwardly as you struggled to pull the knife back out.

Blood started to soak your t-shirt and stain it dark red. A metallic smell clung to the air and you raised the knife above your head again.

This was easier than you’d thought.

You brought the knife down at an angle and groaned, the pressure of your stab felt like a punch.

One more stab should do the trick.

“(Y/N), I got off the phone with your pediatrician,” Keigo started from the bedroom you both shared, “Turns out, you’re just going through a pregnancy depr- (Y/N)!” He screamed seeing the blood on the ground.

Feathers shot towards you and you smiled wildly as you were pinned to the ground.

Keigo turned you on your side and you let go of the knife, letting it stay in your stomach.

There was no need to do anything else. You’d gotten rid of it for good.

He sobbed loudly in your face, his eyes screaming with despair. He didn’t even recognize you anymore, just like how you hadn’t recognized him for a long time now.

His screams of why were only met with one answer.

“Because, that’s what you get.”

[shegatsby]

Hi! I dont really now how requests work so I’m so sorry for any mistakes!! I was wondering if u could do a Hannibal x fem(or gn) reader where she gets kidnapped and he finds out and saves her(but she’s injured). Heavy angst to pure fluff!!

PS: I couldn’t find if ur requests r closed or open so if they are closed rn I’m so sorry!!!🌷🌷🌷🌷

A/N; Hi! Thank you for this request i hope you'll like it. Sorry for any typos. Enjoy! Let me know what you think :)

Warnings; Kidnapped reader, injuries etc.

(gif isn't mine)

When she woke up from her nightmare her head was hurting her like a bitch.. only her nightmare was real. She was trapped in a basement, the last thing she remembered was that someone broke into her house and hit hear head, she was cooking dinner when the attacker came, her plan was to have Hannibal over for dinner, to thank him for helping her etc. She wanted to impress him so bad.. but now she was in a dark basement and her hands and feet were tied. She had to take deep breaths to calm herself in order to make logical desicions. The door of the basement was opened and soon her attacker hit the light, it was yellow and hurt her eyes, ''Rise and shine sweetheart.'' a man's voice was heard, ''Why am I here?'' she asked trying her best to not freak put, the man had a mask and he was wearing an expensive suit, he came close to her, holding a knife, obviously trying to scare her, ''You're just a pawn in my game little dove. It's your boyfriend I want.''

''Boyfriend? I don't have one, sorry.'' she rolled her eyes, what was he talking about?!

''Aww you haven't realized? Doctor Lecter is quite smitten by you. Even a blind person could see that.''

Well, she wasn't sure but she had been feeling a strange pull towards him, recently they've been seeing each other, bumping into each other, it was as if Hannibal was just standing where ever she goes... or was it not a coincidence?

When Doctor Hannibal Lecter walked into her apartment the door was wide open, only sound he could hear was the stove cooking something, he silently walked in, didn't close the door just in case if he had to run. Turns out, there was no one except the broken plates, he turned off the stove with his gloved hands and picked up the small piece of paper on the kitchen table.

''Come find us Doctor Lecter...''

This must be about the latest case Hannibal has been helping the FBI with, a murderer was loose, killing young women and dropping them in the forest, his heart skipped an awful beat when he thought of the possibility that his Y/N is being killed... if he alarmed the FBI Y/N most likely would be dead in a couple hours so he had to be alone on this case.

He quickly drove to the place where he had suspicions of, there was an abandoned house close to one of the victim's body, of course the FBI searched but couldn't find anything but Hannibal had to try and find her.

Meanwhile Y/N was on the ground, her right side hurt, ''If you let me go I won't tell anyone... please..'' she had to give..

The tall man with the mask laughed, punched her lower stomach, she coughed up blood. ''Shut up before I cut your face.''

She didn't dare to say anything else.

After a while the masked man went upstairs and she heard some noises, like two people fighting and then a gun shot... she almost jumped from the ground and started to pray to any god that's out there. Her back was turned to the door this time so she couldn't see anyone, but familiar footsteps approached to her.

She looked up to see Hannibal with few bruises on her beautiful face, he left a relieved sigh, ''I was so worried Y/N...'' he knelt to free her hands and feet, they felt numb. Hannibal started to rub her hands quickly, ''Hannibal,'' he wasn't hearing her, ''Hannibal,'' she stopped her, looked with her dove eyes, ''I'm fine.''

''No,'' he lifted her chin to take a good look at her face, ''I should've tortured that man thing before killing her. How dare he?!'' he was actually talking to himself than talking to her but she didn't mind, she was happy that he came to rescue her... for once in her life she had someone who would choose her.

Hannibal lifted her and carried her outside, ''You'll be living with me from now on. Understood?'' he asked with a dominant tone, ''Yes Doctor.'' she said sarcastically and it made them both laugh.

She had a new home and someone to spend her life with.

[intern-seraph]

as he falls from the sky

You manage to hold on to consciousness despite the powerful magic coaxing you into sleep. Malleus resolves to tire you out, himself.

(originally posted on ao3)

this one was written after malleus' actual ob happened in book 7 lol; title from That Unwanted Animal by The Amazing Devil

ik that u should be asleep in this scenario but just like. assume porn logic or whatever ok??? mayb being completely non-magical makes u resistant to mal's sleep spell or sth idk!!!

PLEASE heed the warnings!

CWs: mutually dubious consent, overblot smut, angst+smut, bondage, inappropriate use of vines, fem!reader, mild blood, non-human genitalia, malleus draconia has 2 penises, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, possessive behavior, crying, biting

“Malleus…” You struggle to speak, eyelids drifting open and closed. “You’re…” Your mouth tastes bitter and metallic. It’s taking everything in you to fight against the magical sleep, and your digits are starting to feel tingly and numb. The effort makes your head pound. A tiny cry of pain escapes you. In a heartbeat, Malleus scoops you up into his arms.

“Oh, my darling, don’t fight it. You’ll only hurt yourself.” He hushes you, his voice soft and tender despite the ink oozing from his eyes and mouth. One hand rises to cup your cheek and wipe away your tears. He leaves behind a chilly smear of ink. “Your resilience is admirable… but it is time to accept my gift.”

You sob, your fingers curling weakly into his cape. “N-no. You’ll… you’ll get hurt…”

He sighs and shakes his head as if chastising an obstinate child. With long, graceful strides, he moves through the thorny vines and sleeping bodies littering the path to the throne. Malleus cradles you in his lap, humming to himself as he settles in. The tune is uncanny — some part of you recognizes it, but it’s far enough removed from that familiarity to make your stomach turn. “Nothing here can hurt me,” he says abruptly. “You have nothing to fear.”

“You,” is all you manage to say. His electric green eyes widen before lidding heavily as he laughs.

“No, not even myself. I am entirely in control.”

You squirm in his arms. “No!” Another sob. "Listen to me!"

"Shh… it's alright, it's alright. Just close your eyes for me."

"Malleus!"

He seems genuinely harrowed by your scream. You see his jaw tense. "So you refuse to sleep. Then I will tire you out, myself." The oppressive aura surrounding him grows heavier. Around you, more thorny vines slither up the sides of the throne. They begin to curl around your body, gently tugging your arms behind your back and winding around your thighs. The thorns don’t pierce your skin, only plucking tauntingly as you keep squirming. “Be still.”

A gentle hand comes up to cup your cheek. Despite yourself, you lean your head into his palm. The warped affection in his eyes makes your chest hurt, and you sniffle weakly. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. You can feel the imprint of his scales, cool and smooth against your clammy skin. With a dreamy sigh, he leans in and kisses you. His pace is slow, languid, sensual. Deep in your chest, you moan. Soon, you’re returning the kiss. Your arms strain against the vines, aching to touch him.

“There we go, that’s my good girl,” Malleus coos. A shudder rolls down your spine, and you throw your head back as he kisses along your jaw all the way down your neck. His lashes flutter against your skin. Then, hand steadying himself on your thigh, his mouth drags open so he may take your throat in his fangs. Your breath stills. When he bites down, it’s with that same agonizing slowness. Pain takes you. You spasm, screaming, but the vines hold you fast and his teeth only immobilize you further.

After a long few minutes, he releases your throat to lick plaintively at the bleeding puncture wounds left behind. You can’t stop shivering. You make a tiny, broken noise.

“I must apologize, my love. I didn’t want to hurt you, but…” His voice deepens to a growl, and the madness in his glowing eyes sparks to life. “Understand that I am only doing what’s best. My mark will protect you. My gift will preserve you. Accept it. Accept me.” One hand slides down to your waistband. He shoves his fingers under your underwear and runs them through your lower lips. Your hips buck against the vines binding them as you yelp. “Oh, my darling, if you want me this badly, you may have me. And then… then, you will sleep. I’ll be sure to satisfy you completely. You will only have the loveliest dreams. Sssso wet for me… you undersssstand, don't you? Why I musssst keep you? Why you cannot leave me? Precioussss, ssssweet human." His tongue flicks out between his lips, long and serpentine. His hisses fan out over your stinging wounds and the cool air makes you shudder. Beneath your trousers, his fingers prod at your hole and tease you open. He's right: you're dripping wet, shame trickling down your body in little beads of sweat just the same as the pre making your underwear damp and uncomfortable. You grind your teeth against your moans as he begins to fuck you on his fingers. You should be focused on saving him, not —

“Ma… ahn… Malleus!” You throw your head back as you come. You can’t shy away from his persistent thrusts, nor can you roll your hips into his overstimulating touch. It’s painful in a way you can’t help but want more of. You whimper, thrashing in your binds.

“Still not tired out… I see.” His fingers leave you, and you go limp as you catch your breath. Malleus hums in contemplation before he brushes his fingers against your hips. Suddenly, you’re naked. The thorns prick at your newly-bare skin. Groaning, the vines begin to shift you around until you straddle his lap. Beneath you, his cocks brush against your naked thighs — when did he take them out?

“We can’t,” you rasp out. You don’t sound convincing even to yourself. “Y-you’re not all here, and… oh…”

The head of one cock butts up against your hole. He coos at you, the noise soft and birdlike. His knuckles brush the curve of your jaw. “Shhh… let me take care of you, my love.”

You whine. Tears bead along your lashes and drip down your face, smearing through the ink he’d left behind earlier. Gently, he eases you down, continuing to coo and stroke along your jawline. For a moment, as you approach the thickest part of his cock, your breath hitches in your throat. His hips surge up to sheathe himself fully, and you release that breath in a moan. Malleus snarls, smothering the sound as he mashes his lips against yours. One hand seizes your hip while the other settles between your thighs; his long fingers stroke your clit with a jarring gentleness in comparison to the rapid, rhythmless pace he immediately sets. You’re helpless in his grasp. All you can do is squirm and moan and kiss him back as he fucks your hole.

“I love you,” he pants. His claws dig into the meat of your hips as his thrusts become more frantic. “I love you sssso much, don’t you… hah… don’t you undersssstand? I jusssst want to… keep you…” One more thrust; his hips surge up to be flush with yours. You can feel his cocks pulsing as he comes, filling your cunt and splattering on your stomach. His fingers dart down to your clit, and you’re quick to follow him with a whimper. Panting, Malleus looks up at you with glazed eyes. “Forever. You are mine forever.”

The vines surrounding you retreat. You collapse onto Malleus’ lap, thoroughly exhausted. He cradles you in his arms and strokes your sweaty skin. With a snap of his fingers, the filth covering both of you vanishes — you don’t miss how more ink flows from his tear ducts. You reach up with a tremulous hand to wipe at the ink with your thumb but only succeed at smearing it further. “Please,” you whisper. “You need to wake up.”

His smile saddens. He presses his face into the crown of your head, inhaling deeply. In the wake of his fingers’ exploration of your body, a black silk nightgown drapes over you. It’s cool and sleek against your skin, and you shiver and sigh. You feel his lips curve into a gentle smile. “No, my dear. I don’t need to wake up. You need to rest. Aren’t you tired?”

You are.

“Will you accept my gift now, my dear?”

What other choice do you have?

The thorns creep up around the throne. Roses blossom along the curling vines. Malleus reaches out and plucks a blood-red rose, then tucks it behind your ear. It hurts to resist the cloying pull of his magic. The scent of roses grows overwhelming. You let your eyelids droop shut. “Sleep. I will grant you the most wonderful dream.”

[swashbucklery]

Kit + angry to discover that she actually likes textile work

A wee circus preview and some textile sweetness for you, friend.

+

Kit was never meant to learn to mend things. She was meant - at least in her grandmother’s eyes - to have staff who might mend things for her. Money enough (from her husband) to be able to buy a new dress if one tore.

Kit has been taught, in the most begrudging possible way, the needle arts of a lady. She has been instructed on embroidering fine feather-stitch ferns, decorating handkerchiefs that were always just shy of her grandmother’s standards until her fingertips were numb and her head ached with frustration. She has only the dimmest memories of her mother sitting at the kitchen table, darning socks with her glasses on, saving the mending for midday when the light was best.

You can learn when you’re older, her mother had said, when Kit paused to watch the nimble work of her sure hands. Leave me to get this done before the matinee.

They both thought they’d have so much more time.

Now Kit is sitting by her own table; outdoors in the space meant for eating, somewhere in the wilds of Indiana. She’s got needle and thread, and tights with a run in them, and she’s so frustrated at her own clumsy work that she wants to scream.

“Kitten,” a voice says over her shoulder. Elora always jingles as she approaches; Kit must have missed the sound of it in her frustration. “What are you doing to those poor tights.”

Kit groans. “Nothing useful, I can tell you that.”

Elora sits sideways on the bench beside her. Her hair is all done up for the matinee, piled into a layer cake of curls and jewel-ended pins that turn her head into a confection. For the show she’ll add feathers: ostrich dyed rich emerald, bright magenta, coal black. She’s still wearing her own clothes, though - a soft calico dress, faded from being worn a hundred times over, her wrists heavy with bracelets in a way that Kit’s grandmother would call vulgar. It’s a familiar sort of absurdity, now.

“Who taught you how to mend, the barn cat?” Elora says.

Somehow, the teasing makes a little of Kit’s frustration lift. Elora knows, of course, why Kit couldn’t mend her way out of a wet paper bag. But she often does this. Gives Kit the kindness of forgetting. “I don’t need new ones,” Kit sighs. “It’s just a run in the leg.”

Elora takes the garment from her, runs expert hands along the outside of the cloth, turns it this way and that to get a sense of the flaw. She frowns at the clumsy stitches Kit’s put in - too lumpy, somehow pulling things tight but extending threads loose over the gap in a way that turns awkward - and pulls them out with a few swift motions. “You don’t need new ones,” Elora says. “But you’re going at it sideways. You need these for this afternoon?”

Kit’s stomach is already tight with worry; she manages a nod. “Hoping so,” she says. “They’re my best ones.”

The tights are a perfect, lurid mauve, so bright that they’re difficult to look at under the stage lights. The rest of Kit’s costume is black and cream; the whole effect highlights her legs, brings out the slowly developing shapeliness of her calves. She even found thread to match them. If she could just get her hands to -

Elora takes the mending into her own lap, and Kit doesn’t know if she wants to cry with frustration or relief. “Well, there’s no sense teaching yourself on silk like this, no wonder you’re feeling clumsy.”

She plucks a few things out of Kit’s sewing kit - a spare thread and needle, a second thimble - and clicks her tongue. Then she slings one leg into Kit’s lap.

Kit giggles. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Elora draws her gaze down, points to a tiny, fraying worn spot - less than an inch - in the patterned river of her skirt. The print of the cloth is so complicated, with so many different places for the eye to rest, that Kit hadn’t noticed. “This needs fixing,” she says, no-nonsense. “And cotton is a lot kinder to beginners. You’re going to mend my dress, and I’m going to mend your tights.”

Coming from anyone else, the invitation would make Kit stubborn. She’s still breaking old habits; reflexes from a time when her world was stifling lace and lemonade socials and croquet. But Elora is not, she knows, offering a lesson so that she can speak ill of Kit to the next ten girls who come calling. Elora is not going to give Kit the cold shoulder at the next event of the season. Elora is warm and funny and unfailingly kind, her needle and thread already halfway up the run that’s been giving Kit trouble for over an hour.

Dutifully, Kit sets her unpracticed fingers to work threading her needle.

The thread Elora has given her is a perfect crimson; the colour of the contrast patterning that makes its way across the background cloth now faded to a pale brown the colour of prairie dust. Elora - always happiest in the glitter of a big city - likes to match herself to the dirt out here in the Midwest. Once a day, she giggles and ask Willow when he’s planning to add some trick ropers for a Wild West show. Kit sticks her hand under Elora’s skirt, gathering the cloth the way she’s been shown - by Elora, by Jade - and starts to mend.

It is easier on cotton.

The cloth doesn’t shift or slither out of Kit’s grasp the way that the silk was. Elora’s dress is never going to gleam the same way under the stage lights, but it behaves in Kit’s hands, as she draws her needle in and out. It’s easier on a frayed spot, too, instead of a place where the cloth has torn altogether. Frustration blooms at the back of Kit’s neck; the stirrings of one of those headaches she used to get over embroidery.

Elora pauses in her work, suddenly, and reaches out to grip the place on her skirt where Kit is trying her best. She brings it nearer to her eyes - exposing an amount of underskirt and lace bloomer that would have shocked Kit weeks ago - and smiles. “See, you know what you’re doing, Kitten,” she says. “Just gotta make it easier on yourself.”

She hands the section of skirt back to Kit. Kit stares down at her work. Elora doesn’t say a thing more. Not a lady��s needlework can never be too perfect, not a single note on the fact that Kit’s grid is running slightly off-center to the grain of the cloth. Kit’s repair - tidy, if not perfect - is good enough.

Kit doesn’t say anything in reply. She’s not sure how, yet, to reply. But she goes back to her work smiling.

[m-ayo-o]

pair

18+ // alcohol consumption drunken night out with Aki Hayakawa wc 720 selfshiptember; 7

The night begins at a simple but welcoming ramen restaurant, the last thing seared into your brain being the shout of “cheers!!” clinking glasses with everybody around the table.

You order more food, loads more drinks, then head to bars and clubs, finally ending up at some house party with Aki. You can’t find anyone else, so you stick to him like glue, not wanting to get lost in the chaos.

After having your fill of alcohol for the night month, feeling numb from all the dancing, you grab Aki and pull him into the hallway, “can we–” you’re barely audible over the noise, “can we go home!?”

He nods and takes your hand as you stumble to the nearest train station.

You find yourselves turned around in the underground labyrinth, but you hop onto a train eventually, hopefully heading in the right direction.

Both of you near enough slump onto the sunken seats like they’re the most comfortable cushion in the world, your heads lolling to the side, collapsing into each other in your intoxicated state.

“Too much– beer” Aki groans.

“I knowww,” you moan back, “my head’s… spinning”

You grip onto each other when the train starts moving, feeling suddenly startled then bursting into fits of giggles.

But neither of you pull away, only cuddling into each other further during your ride home.

You’re far too drunk to walk, your phone’s dead, so Aki insists that you stay over while drunkenly setting up a camp bed for himself on the floor.

“Aki, Aki, sstop–” you slur out, “I’ll stay– if, if you come sleep in here�� with me?” You bargain, frowning at each hiccup that interrupts you.

His expression shifts, looking hesitant, then he climbs up onto his bed and sits next to you.

“Help–” you start trying to lift up your dress, attempting to discard the smoke tinged, beer sodden garment before you sleep, “get this off!” you huff with defeat, your arms flopping down again. It’s just too tight and wet.

Aki sighs and unceremoniously pulls your dress over your head, throwing it away as you’re left in your underwear. He joins you shortly, stripping off his jeans and shirt, climbing in as you pull him in for a cuddle.

You’re just so comfortable with each other– he’s seen you in bikinis and underwear so many times now you’re not even shy.

But you’re starting to feel like you should be when you feel something hard poking between your thighs.

You can’t help but giggle, arching your neck round to give him a snarky comment, but you find his eyes closed. 

The devil hunter is sleeping.

You watch him for a second, admiring his peaceful expression.

Then sleep calls for you as well as you enjoy his warm embrace, feeling thankful for your reliable friend.

You’re awoken in a lightheaded and dreamy state, the unfamiliar bedroom swirling into your vision, suddenly overcome with panic.

Where the fuck am I?

As soon as the thought crosses your mind you already realise you’re at Aki’s, noticing the familiar clock on the wall, his bedsheets… his arm… wrapped around your… naked? waist?

Shit.

You lift the blanket, finding that you’re at least still wearing your thong.

You don’t feel like you had sex.

You’d know if you had sex with Aki… right?

You feel his hand twitching, grabbing at your waist as you shuffle around, agitating him.

“We didn’t.” he mutters against your back and pulls you closer.

A relieved smile washes over your face. Fuck knows what would’ve happened if you and Aki had sex last night. You wouldn’t have used protection, that’s for sure, and you were honestly so drunk one of you would’ve probably ended up injured.

He hears you giggle quietly as you grip onto his arm, staying in bed for a while longer as you both wake up and recount the night slowly.

You have a peaceful morning together, nursing each other’s hangovers, taking turns in the bath, borrowing a spare set of his pyjamas, then heading to the kitchen.

Aki prepares some coffee and breakfast, serving them up at the small wooden table in the living room. You enjoy the simple meal then step out onto the balcony, feeling the breeze and indulging in a sobering cigarette.

selfshiptember 7!!

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