#so that tells me MAYBE you’re engaging without actually engaging!

[tabithatwo]

Saying that someone not liking elements of something means they want a happy ending or are anti tragedy or anti twisted shit is mmmm a big old logical leap!! I guess some people watch yellowjackets and don’t want tragedy but uhhh idk I have yet to see them have yellowjackets obsessions (not saying it isn’t possible just! seems very much less common!)

I (and many other people who didn’t like elements of this season or it’s approach to shit) gobbled the tragedy the fuck up s1! I was actually sitting at the proverbial table banging my proverbial knife and fork with a proverbial empty plate for the first half of s2 chanting fuck it up, fuck it up, fuck it up!

People having narrative critiques of HOW they did dark shit are not automatically ANTI dark shit lmao like I actually think that the reason much of it doesn’t hit for me personally is the lack of agency/the accidental nature of the tragedies. Like. I want more fucked up shit ACTUALLY. I want tragedy that doesn’t feel corny as fuck in execution. You can very much hate the way nats death and the hunts etc etc were done BECAUSE you don’t feel like they executed the level of psychological horror s1 promised! Also you can love it! Or you can be in between! Or you can not care! But like consolidating any criticism of unhappy story lines with doesn’t like dark shit is a wild oversimplification.

I know people feel reactive and defensive of things they love!! But it’s okay to not agree with someone’s take and ignore it. It’s also okay to engage with it! But like, dismissing any criticism with a weird idk you people don’t like/understand horror/sad shit party line is the worst kind of engaging, because you’re not actually engaging you’re just going out of your way to dismiss without taking what they’re really saying into account!

[criminalminds4eva]

secret polaroids - spencer reid

summary: secretly dating your coworker, when it all coomes to light due to a blurry polaroid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

“wait, whos in the picture behind your phonecase?!”

doctor spencer reid, the genius with an eidetic memory, one of the fbi’s brightest minds, your coworker. who you’ve been secretly going out with for the last couple of months

it all happend over spilled coffee, you had been rushing over to the office, holding cups of coffee for the team working on a case out of town. as a new member of the team you wanted to make a good impression, hell maybe suck up to them a little.

so when you walk in the precint and spill the coffee all over your clothes, the work of a small town cop running into you, spencer offers to drive you to the hotel, to change into clean clothes.

“that was so embarrasing god what an idiot” you said covering your flushed face as spencer drove to the hotel

“the cop ran into you, besides you were doomed from the start carrying 8 cups of coffee in the same hand, and statistically speaking, it's actually quite common to spill coffee, especially when multitasking or under stress, the brain can only process a limited amount of information at once, which leads to small errors in motor control.” spencer looked over at you and chuckled

"you know it amazes me how much information you have stored up in your brain, i mean i know about the phd´s and everything but still its so amazing" you said looking over at him as he parked in front of the hotel, you can see his cheeks start to form a little red to them and naturally yours do too

and after that, a couple of weeks later full of small glances, smiles and of derek telling him how painfully obvious it was that he likes you and liked him. he asked you out

"you know people who share common interests and engage in meaningful conversation tend to form stronger connections and, well, i really enjoy talking with you, so i was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me sometime? i promise i won’t ramble about statistics the entire time" he said as he tried to hide the blush in his face so the rest of the team wouldnt know what the both of you were talking about in your desk

"spence, id love nothing more than to hear you ramble over dinner"

one dinner became two then three, then you found yourself kissing him goodnight as he dropped at the door to your apartment

he leans in slightly, hesitating for a brief moment, as if calculating the perfect timing and then gently kisses you

"i really enjoyed tonight" you said after the kiss "would you like to come in for a drink?"

he pauses for a moment, trying to think clearly then says "id love too"

after a while you both end up getting wine drunk in your apartment floor, which leads to the decision of your bringing out your polaroid camera

"come on spence smile for the camera" you laughed trying to get him to take his hands off his face but he wouldnt so you snap the picture anyway

"alright enough, your turn" he said taking the camera from your hands and taking a couple of pictures of you.

he wobbles a little setting his wine glass down in the counter, eyes half-focused but full of affection. "you know,ive been thinking, well, not just tonight, but, like a lot. you’re amazing and smart, and funny, and so beautiful and i think your definetly out of my league and if i were to kiss you then go to hell, i would. so then i could brag to the devils i saw heaven without entering" He fumbles over his words, blinking slowly, but his sincerity is clear. "maybe you could, um, be my girlfriend? statistically, we’re, uh, compatible, and I think we could you know be really happy together what do you say?" he offers a lopsided smile, clearly a bit nervous despite the alcohol.

his rambling takes you back "did you just quote shakespeare to me?" you chuckled as you leaned in to kiss him once more

"is that a yes i take it?" he said kissing you back

"yes doctor reid, i want to be your girlfriend" his eyes wide open to your response, and for a moment hes speechless, he laughs nervously rubbing the back of his neck and grabs the camera once more

"come on we are taking our first official dating picture" he smiles shyly but brightly taking a blurry polaroid of the two of you in front of the mirror

the two of you knew it was better to keep the relationship private, spencer's face flushed when you mentioned the thought of how derek would tease him, or how he wouldnt hear the end of it from garcia being all happy for the both of you. knowing they wouldnt do it to harm either of you but since this was quite new and being coworkers, you decided to keep it private but not a secret. the team knew spencer was seeing someone, emily said his face seemed brighter and suddenly he couldnt stay overtime to finish the files jj had sneeked him in his desk. and they knew you were seeing someone too since garcia said she caught you smiling while you were texting, they hoped you guys were seeing each other but since neither of you ever mentioned the date or maybe it was the fact that you really were able to mantain a professional front while working, they hadnt been able to fully catch on that you were dating spencer

that was until you decided to put the blurry polaroid of the night he asked you to be his girlfriend behind your phone case

"wait who's in the picture behind your phone case?" penelope squealed with exciment catching the attention of the rest of the team

"is that your boyfriend y/n, do i officially have no chance with you" chuckled derek leaning against your desk as you nervously took your phone from garcia

"oh come on now she will tell us when she wants too" emily approached then took your phone from your hands "besides you cant really tell who it is in the picture" as she looked at the picture trying to figure it out despite your efforts to take the phone from her hands.

derek stood beside her also looking at the picture "hey but doesnt it kind of look like.."

"morning what are we looking at" spencer appeared at your desk, his face blushing when he saw the picture emily and derek were looking at, they looked at spencer, then looked at you burying your face in your hands

"oh my god, no way really?!?" garcia said with a bright smile "doctor love oh my god i cant belive it" she said hugging spencer

"so i guess the cat is out of the bag huh?" you said looking at spencer

"you owe me 20 bucks i told you they were dating" emily said playfully punching derek in the shoulder

"wait you guys had bets on this" spencer said laughing nervously letting go of the hug with garcia

"well pretty boy we didnt actually think you would even ask her out how long has this been going on for" said morgan looking playfully hurt "baby girl let them breathe" he said pulling garcia from you

"a couple of months" you mentioned letting go of the hug with a cheesy smile

"alright, we have a case" said rossi joining the team by your desk. the team grins weider as they notice spencer blushing as he stands next to you "were really happy, for the both of you" said derek as they started to walk away. you get up from your desk following the team and squeeze your boyfriends hand, a signal that all was well

"did you really think we wouldnt figure it out?" rossi raised his eyebrows as he looked at spencer watching walk away while the team playfully teased you "im happy for you kid" rossi patted him on the back

spencer shakes his head with a half-laugh trying to hide the blush in his face as they joined everyone.

⋆｡°✩

a/n: feedback would be super appreciated, i hoped you enjoyed reading <33

[sanjisleggy]

i just need more time to be loved by you (roronoa zoro x reader)

req: Could you please do a Zoro x reader (fem or gn)  where the reader is trying to plan a surprise thing for him and has been hanging around Sanji more to help get stuff prepared and in the process accidentally is ignoring Zoro. Zoro starts to worry that he isn't romantic or affectionate enough like Sanji and will loose the reader to him. Maybe Zoro even starts purposefully avoiding the reader like the mindset of 'if we don't talk I can't be broken up with'. Idk hurt comfort please make me cry but end nice 🩷

a/n: ngl i rubbed my hands together like a raccoon or smth when i was brainstorming for this req bc i’m just a sucker for hurt/comfort that isn’t dramatic hehe anyway thanks for 100 followers! :D i’ve been having a great time writing for one piece these past few weeks, everyone has been so kind :3c

contents: some suggestive content (16+ only ty!), insecure! jealous!Zoro, suspicions of cheating (but no actual cheating ofc), miscommunication, hurt/comfort and reverse comfort, angst to fluff

wc. 3.9k

wanna be on my taglist?

i. 

for the first time in over a year, Zoro wakes up in an empty bed.

the absence of a familiar weight resting on his chest nearly startles him awake, his brain skipping over the initial first few minutes of grogginess most feel when they’ve just woken up. he runs his hands over your side of the mattress before crawling over it just enough to check if you’re on the floor. 

it dawns on him, in that moment, that this is the first time you’ve gotten up and left before him since you began seeing each other. usually Zoro would be the one waking up at the break of dawn to get some early morning training in, always carefully taking a few minutes to lift your sleeping form off his body and place you back on your assigned end of the bed without waking you. it never seems to matter if you went to bed cuddling or not, somehow, throughout the night, you always find your way on top of him.

setting aside the foreign feeling in his stomach, Zoro decides to go look for you–he tells himself he’s just curious about the reason for your absence but the part he won’t admit is that he just misses seeing you first thing in the morning. 

it doesn’t take him long to find you, catching a glimpse of your back when he’s walking past the open kitchen door. before he can decide to get your attention, however, Zoro realises you’re not alone.

in front of a counter upon which is laid half-used utensils and uncooked ingredients stands you and the crew’s one and only chef. you’re both deeply engaged in a conversation spoken in a volume low enough that the swordsman can barely make out any of the words. he does, however, notice that you’re wearing Sanji’s favourite apron–it’s a tad too long for someone of your height, or maybe the stupid chef just has freakishly long legs, who knows? –and it causes his heart to stir in a way he struggles to describe to even himself.

if Zoro had to choose a past feeling that comes the closest to comparing, it would have to be when he’d challenged Dracule Mihawk to a duel and lost.

“oh, no, my sweet,” Sanji finally says something loud enough for Zoro to hear from behind the two of you. “you’d want to pinch it more than just squish it,” he continues before repositioning himself behind you to demonstrate. it’s hard to see exactly what the two of you are doing but it’s clear to the swordsman that the pervert chef’s most likely cupping your hands in his to guide your movement with whatever dish you’re seemingly making together.

Zoro isn’t surprised that you don’t try to push Sanji away in any capacity, not due to any lack of trust between him and you but because you’ve always been a very physically affectionate person. it was one of his first impressions of you when you joined the crew at the behest of Luffy. it was common on the Merry–and still is on the Sunny–to see you hugging, holding the hands or even kissing the cheeks of your companions in the most platonic sense. it’s just the way you show your happiness.

although every bone in Zoro’s body is screaming at him to storm in and tear Sanji away from you, a sudden realisation washing over him roots his feet to the ground.

is this what you actually need from me? if i touch you more, would you need it less from the others?

the swordsman can’t help but recall how just last night you’d kept bugging him for pre-sleep cuddles but he pushed your needy hands away every time.

“it’s too hot and humid tonight for that,” he grumbled after you frowned at his rejection.

“you’ve been saying that for the past two weeks,” you whined, wiggling around your side of the bed in protest.

“well, too bad the weather���s just been too hot. it’s not my fault.” he shrugged. when your frown only deepened, he decided to give you a few forehead kisses as compensation. “now stop being a brat and go to sleep.” 

Zoro walks away from the kitchen, opting to leave you and the chef alone; and wonders if you would’ve been in bed this morning when he woke up had he caved in and given you the cuddles you so wanted just last night.

he only sees you again when the sun’s started to set and all of the Straw Hats begin to gather for dinner. instead of taking your usual seat beside him, you end up serving him a plate of onigiri with a wide grin on your face instead.

“here’s your serving, my love,” you say with a satisfied hum that only serves to confuse the man. surely these are just the usual onigiri Sanji occasionally makes for meals, right? “how does it taste?” you ask after he takes a bite.

it tastes richer today and the rice is fluffier.

“it tastes the same as always.” the swordsman shrugs, physically incapable of praising anything remotely made by the crew’s dedicated cook. “why?” he adds when he catches the way your smile falters at his reply.

“nothing, it’s nothing.” you lean over to kiss his temple. his heart has been so deprived of your affection for the entire day that the simple gesture is enough to make him forget about your faltering smile from just mere seconds ago.

ii.

the next morning, after the Thousand Sunny has docked at a new island, Zoro wakes up yet again to an empty bed. this time, though, he wastes no time getting up and jumping into the shower after remembering a specific conversation from a week ago.

“we should go out on a date when we reach the next island,” you’d said, your bare sweaty chest sticking to his as you rested on top of him after an eventful night together.

“whatever you want,” he’d hummed in agreement as he rubbed your sides and back in an attempt to soothe the parts of your skin he’d been a bit too rough with. “we can even go right after we dock.”

rushing out the door of your shared quarters, green locks still dripping with water, Zoro makes it out just in time to catch you alighting the Sunny with two of your fellow Straw Hats: Chopper and, much to his dismay, Sanji. the three of you walk towards the bustling town together with the reindeer in between you and the chef with one hoof holding your right hand as his other holds Sanji’s left. 

Zoro feels the same stirring sensation from yesterday in his chest, except this time its intensity has increased tenfold. a bitterness forms in the back of his throat when he realises, if he wasn’t really paying attention, how much the three of you look like a family: a mother, a father and their child.

for a split second he imagines the kind of future you could have with someone like Sanji–someone who could provide for you and your children in a more meaningful way than a swordsman can. after all, what’s the point of teaching your kid how to wield a sword if you can’t even feed them properly, right?

a part of Zoro considers catching up to your little group and grabbing the basket from your other hand to replace it with his own. it would be a foreign experience to him, not usually being one to initiate even something as simple as hand-holding—aside from the times when your lives were being threatened and he needed to make sure you escaped safely with him.

the swordsman feels his face heat up at the thought of holding your hand for no reason other than the action itself. he tries to recall the last time you wormed your hand into his, intertwining your fingers with his calloused digits. Zoro remembers how soft your skin felt, how cold your hand initially was before it was engulfed in his warmer palm, and his heart skips a beat. 

by the time he snaps himself out of his reverie, he realises you’re nowhere to be seen.

”what’s bothering you, swordsman?” a familiar voice speaks from behind him. without turning around, Zoro simply shrugs in response.

”i don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

he hears Robin chuckle before he feels her hands sprouting from his shoulders to gently turn him around. though he really doesn’t want to talk about his feelings to the archeologist, he decides it’s better to comply than to fight it.

her arms are crossed as she looks at him with a smile. Zoro can’t help but compare her expression to that of a person seeing a pitiful baby animal struggling with eating solid foods for the first time—they know the only thing they can really do is watch.

”i think you should talk to her. you won’t know what she’s thinking unless you ask.”

Zoro curses under his breath. had he really been that obvious with his pining? how pathetic he must look to the rest of his crewmates.

how pathetic.

still, he can’t deny that she’s right—Robin always is, most of the time. he knows he’s been making a lot of assumptions lately and it’s not fair to either of you; and yet when he thinks about sitting you down to hear your actual feelings, he fears that not only will he be unable to offer you what you need, you would realise it as well.

would it really be the end of the world? if we go back to just being friends? 

Zoro’s lived his entire life up to this point without any romance, having deluded himself into thinking that any relationship—platonic or romantic—wouldn’t serve his goal of being the best swordsman. if anything, it would only be a distraction. he’d made it far in life with this belief and then, of course, he had to meet Luffy and subsequently: you.

he realises then that he can’t remember what it’s like not being your partner; to not have the privilege of being the one who sleeps beside you every night, to touch and hold and kiss you in ways only appropriate behind closed doors. when he thinks about his future as the world’s greatest swordsman, he can only imagine it with you by his side. it wouldn’t be the same otherwise.

maybe… if we just never talk about this, i can be yours for a little while longer. with a bit more time, maybe i can convince you to keep loving me.

iii.

a few days later, on the morning of the day you’ve been anxiously preparing for for a week now, you wake up, once again, to an empty bed and your heart sinks lower than it did yesterday.

Zoro has been waking up earlier these past few days and you’re unable to find out why. anytime you try to look for him during his usual training hours, you struggle to even find him, let alone spend time with him. for some reason that even the others are unsure of, he’s been training in odd places around the Thousand Sunny, seemingly forgoing the crow’s nest altogether. on the off chance you do manage to run into him, he’ll give you some random excuse for why he “can’t talk right now”.

”Luffy needs me to run some errands.”

”i have an appointment with the local blacksmith.”

”i think i see Chopper drowning.”

clenching your fists in your lap, you stay sitting in bed for a while longer, your heart pounding faster and faster no matter how hard you try to calm it down. you feel your eyes begin to burn with tears as you come to the realisation that maybe Zoro isn’t interested in you anymore. 

under your breath, you curse at whatever god is listening for their horrific timing. you’d spent the past week with Sanji and Chopper meticulously planning for tonight’s surprise birthday picnic and now you’re not sure if you’ll be able to convince your boyfriend to even look at you.

mind racing, you try to recall if you’d done anything to remotely upset him lately but you draw a blank. if anything, you’ve been spending more time away from Zoro in order to maintain the secrecy of your plans but surely that’s not what he’s upset over, right? wouldn’t he have welcomed the me-time with open arms?

finally deciding that it’s really not the time to be overthinking about this, you wipe away your tears and get ready to freshen up for the day. you and the others have put in too much effort into tonight to just throw it all away so you decide that no matter what, you will see it through, even if it ends up being the last time you spend with him as his partner.

iv. 

Zoro’s on the verge of falling asleep whilst sitting upright in bed when the door to your shared quarters bursts open and startles him awake. before he can beat the crap out of whoever it is, Nami’s frantic shouting freezes him in place.

”(Y/N)’s been taken!” his throat tightens as he feels his heart drop and his skin go cold. “quick you need to hurry!” the navigator yells. instinctively he grabs his three swords and leaps out of bed towards the door, more of the Straw Hats coming into view as he exits the room.

”you fucking dumbass mosshead!” Sanji shouts, furious, “sweet (Y/N)’s been kidnapped and you’ve been asleep this whole time?!”

”i-i last saw her being taken away towards the southmost cliff,” Chopper sobs, words muffled by his hooves as he frantically rubs away his never ending tears.

”remember, Zoro,” Sanji grabs the swordsman’s shoulders firmly, “southmost. SOUTH. it’s literally the closest cliff to the dock.”

it does cross Zoro’s mind that the chef’s acting fucking weird but right now isn’t the time for that. without a word, he takes off, running as fast as his legs can carry him toward what he hopes is the right direction. once he’s out of earshot, the Straw Hats let out a collective sigh.

”do you think he’ll make it?” Nami asks no one in particular.

”seeing as he really thinks (Y/N)’s in danger, i’d say so,” Robin replies.

”well, at least we have Usopp keeping an eye on him,” Sanji adds, “if mosshead really gets lost, we can at least rely on Usopp to get him back on the right track.”

a moment of silence passes as they all watch Zoro gradually disappear from view—all except for the sound of Chopper’s sobbing.

”he’s not here anymore, you don’t need to keep crying, Chopper,” Nami says to the doctor. he sniffles as he pulls his hooves away from his face, revealing a mess of snot and tears. 

“i-i know,” he chokes, reaching out to hug Robin’s leg, “i was faking it at first but now i’m scared something will happen and they really do break up.” Chopper lets out another cry, smooshing his face into the archeologist’s pants as he wonders if this is what children feel like when their parents get divorced.

“don’t be silly,” Nami leans down to pat his head, “i’m pretty sure hell would freeze over first before they decide to break up. besides, once Zoro sees all the stuff (Y/N)’s prepared, i think that’ll be the last thing on his mind.” 

v.

the swordsman barely thinks about where he’s going as he makes his way to you, his legs carrying him through twists and turns as though they have a mind of their own. all he can really focus on right now is the sound of his scabbards clicking against one another and the way you’ve been looking at him these past few days.

how your smile would melt away when he gave you another half-assed excuse to leave. how he felt you lingering a distance behind him so many times before your presence disappeared without saying a word. how just last night it seemed like you wanted to ask him something before going to bed, your mouth opening and closing as you laid down beside him, head turned just enough for your eyes to meet his. he’d almost asked you what’s wrong but before he could, you simply shook your head and turned around to go to sleep with your back facing his way.

i’m sorry. i’m sorry i kept avoiding you. i’m sorry i hurt your feelings.

Zoro takes a sharp left turn before he’s halted in his tracks when an entire tree branch falls just a few steps in front of him. before he can manoeuvre his way around the unexpected obstacle, he realises he’s going the wrong way; so he turns around.

i just needed more time to think. i just wanted a bit more time to figure out how to fix myself for you.

through the darkness of the night, his eyes catch a glimpse of light as he nears the edge of the forest that leads to the southmost cliff of the island. heart pounding rapidly in his chest as he continues to run, Zoro readies himself for a fight, to shed as much blood as necessary to bring you home without so much as a scratch on your skin. 

please be okay. this can’t be how it ends for us. i need to tell you that i—

he comes to a sudden stop, the inertia from running at top speed causing him to nearly stumble forwards. still panting heavily as he holds his unsheathed swords by his sides, Zoro simply stands there wordlessly as his eyes take in the sight before him.

you’re by yourself, sitting cross-legged on a large picnic blanket with a large array of food and bottles of alcohol surrounding you. you’re wearing a dress he’s never seen before but it fits you perfectly and he wonders if you’d gotten it just for tonight. you simply smile at Zoro as you wait a good while for the truth to fully dawn on him; to be honest you didn’t expect him to show up so frazzled and upset.

”happy birthday?” you eventually say, unsure yourself why the phrase comes out sounding like a question. still donning a look of shock on his face, Zoro sinks to his knees, dropping his swords onto the grass. he furrows his eyebrows, clearly deep in thought and your own eyes widen when you realise— “did you forget today’s your birthday?”

”i…” he murmurs, “… yeah, i forgot.” he swallows thickly. “is this all for me?”

”of course it is,” you can’t help but laugh a little as you reply, still unable to wrap your head around the fact that he truly did not see this coming at all. “i spent the whole week getting ready for this.”

Zoro feels a pang in his chest.

”you’re not breaking up with me?” he asks, stunning you into silence. for a second you think he’s trying to make some kind of sick joke but you know him well enough to tell from the way he’s staring at you so intensely that he’s being completely honest. “i thought…” the swordsman steadies his voice as best as he can, unable to help the words he’s been keeping hidden from spilling out of his lips, “you’d fallen out of love with me. i thought you just didn’t want to be around me anymore.”

you feel your eyes burn with tears as you hear your own thoughts being spoken aloud in his voice. your bottom lip quivers as you feel an odd mix of relief and sadness wash over you. upon seeing you cry, Zoro scrambles towards you until he’s within arm’s reach.

”no, no,” he clumsily wipes away your tears with the pads of his thumbs as he cups your face in between his hands gently, “please don’t cry. don’t be sad.” you place your own hands over his, keeping them held to your face as you give him a wobbly smile.

”i’m not sad, you silly man,” you reply with fresh tears still running down your face. “i’m so relieved. this whole time i thought you were going to break up with me.”

”what made you think that?” Zoro can’t help but speak with a hint of indignance in his voice.

”you’ve been avoiding me the past few days,” you sniffle, the sound alone twisting his heart even further. “i thought you’d gotten sick of me or something but i didn’t wanna waste all the effort me and the others put into tonight so i thought we could at least have one last date together before you break up with me.” you feel his hands tense up as you speak before a frown spreads across his handsome face once you finish saying your piece.

”i could never,” he responds resolutely, as though offended by the mere idea of ever falling out of love with you. Zoro admits he’d been dodging you in order to avoid being broken up with. “i just thought,” he says, face turning red as he realises how dumb it all sounds now that he’s saying it out loud, “that if i didn’t give you the chance to leave me, i’d have more time to fix myself… to have more time being yours.”

”what’s there to fix?” you can’t help but ask, turning your head ever so slightly to press a kiss against the palm of his right hand. you smile when you notice Zoro’s already blushing face turning a deeper shade of red. “i already love every part of you. don’t you ever dare think again you need to change.”

you let out a squeak of surprise when Zoro lunges towards you without warning, tackling you into a tight hug. his hand reaches out to cushion the back of your head as you fall backwards onto your back with him laying on top of you. running his fingers through your hair, the swordsman gazes down at you warmly as he just now registers the smell of onigiri and sashimi.

”you made all this for me?” he asks in a soft voice, his breath brushing against your face. you nod, smile growing even wider when he leans down to kiss the tip of your nose. “is that why you were hanging around the shitty chef so much?” 

you hum affirmative in response, unable to help the racing of your heart as you bask in the sudden display of physical intimacy he rarely shows you outside of the bedroom. you wonder if he can feel your rapid heartbeat from how closely his chest is pressed against yours.

”the onigiri from earlier this week was my first attempt at making it,” you share before you feel Zoro start to pepper kisses all over your face.

”i lied when i said they tasted the same,” he admits, the occasional syllable muffling from when his lips make contact with your skin. “they tasted really good. i just thought the shitty cook made them so i lied.”

”oh really?” you chuckle as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “i hope you like the ones i made today then.” Zoro brushes the tip of his nose against yours.

”i’d love anything you make for me,” he mumbles before capturing your lips with his own, pulling away only when his lungs begin to scream for air. “thank you for the surprise, (Y/N). i love you.”

”love you, too.” 

—

taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like

[sterifels-blog]

creepypasta characters – how they’d react to you being upset over a small inconvenience 🤏

BEN drowned

•mocking sarcasm: “oh no, did the big scary printer jam again? total apocalypse. truly.” what became clear in his death, was he did, in fact, take his childish personality with him. he is no better than jeff when it comes down to teasing you for your dismays.

•playful teaser. he glitches around the room, mimicking your upset tone in a distorted voice, just to annoy you. it's spiteful, a little ignorant, but it's something you've come to grow used to. some things were just inevitable with BEN, and his torment was one of those things.

•offers digital comfort. BEN hacks a random game to create a hidden message for you, like “cheer up, loser.” if you don't reciprocate any sort of reaction back- you best believe he will be petty enough to rig a match for you. not so you can win, no. so you lose. just to agitate you again.

•awkward, awkward softness: if you’re seriously upset, he stammers, “hey, uh, don’t cry. i… don’t know how to deal with that.” very likely, he panics and goes to grab someone like jack or jane.

•weird with distractions. he'll float around, humming the zelda theme song until you laugh or throw something at him. if it works, it works. either way, you're too focused on smiling, or trying to hit him.

•over-the-top suggestion: “want me to corrupt their computer files? that’ll show them.”

•king of small gestures. leaves a pixelated heart drawn in a game you’re playing, then pretends it wasn’t him.

bloody painter:

•he observes quietly. sits in eerie silence, studying your emotions like he’s painting a mental portrait.

•when he is finished staring (although, admittedly, he does quite like the sight of you), he will offer some deadpan advice:

•“if it doesn’t matter in five years, it’s not worth ruining your eyeliner over.”

•if verbal reassurance doesn't do it for you, willingly, he'll engage in a paint-based gesture for his angel. he draws something comforting or silly (alternatively, absolutely crude) on a scrap of paper and hands it to you without a word, hoping it makes some difference.

•dark humor (where it is, and isn't appropriate.) “want me to take care of whoever pissed you off?” half-joking. maybe. if you say no, there is some genuine disappointment left lingering in his eyes. a missed opportunity to stock-up.

•unexpected comfort. gently touches your face and says some cheesy bullshit like, “the colors of sadness suit you, but i’d rather see you smile". he knows he's succeeded in making you feel something other than upset, when you are pressing your palm against his face and pushing him away with a groan of annoyance.

•will go extreme measures to make you a distracting gift. offers to paint you something. it’s his way of saying sorry.

•serious effort: if you’re really upset, he’ll spend hours creating something meaningful to cheer you up. although you'd clearly specified you didn't want him to maul the poor man who'd taken the last pint of your favorite ice cream flavor; the red coating of the little house he'd made you (in respect to the small abode you will "most definitely have" together), spoke otherwise to him listening.

•it's fucking disgusting, but don't discard it. it's the.. 'sweetest' way he shows that he cares.

clockwork:

•chaotic comfort. immediately threatens to stab whatever inconvenienced you. “who do i need to ‘fix’ for this?”

•pactical help (or a lack thereof): she does actually try to solve the problem for you, but gets frustrated if it’s not instant.

•(unhelpful) teasing: “aww, does my little clock need winding? let’s fix your mood.”

•joking aggression: “you’re upset? try getting stabbed in the eye and tell me how you feel". she soon after realizes this probably wasn't the best way to get through to you, and instead resorts to gently carding her fingers through your hair, sitting in an awkward silence after.

•when the silence gets to be too much, the most rational conclusion she could come up with was a random distraction. tosses something shiny or makes a loud noise to snap you out of it, almost, most definitely getting a sick kick of amusement when you jump in a startle.

•clumsy affection: roughly pulls you into a hug afterwards and says, “you’ll be fine. i’ve seen you handle worse.”

•this is shortly after followed by a soft admission. “i don’t like seeing you like this. it’s weird.” no sympathy on her face, just her nose being scrunched up in discomfort. but you can tell she means her words.. more for her sake.

eyeless jack

•jack is a quiet observer. he always has been, and will be. he notices you’re upset but waits for you to bring it up, not wanting to push you down a further slope than you were already on.

•when you finally begin to talk to him, for the most part, he simply listens. but if he notices it's getting to be too much, he'll offer some gentle reassurance: his voice is calm, almost nonchalant as he says, “it’s okay. you can talk to me.” he means it.

•words aren't easy for him. he's used to being silent, tucked away to the confines of his laboratory. it's why he chooses a more physical approach. cooking comfort. jack makes you a meal without being asked—though you might not want to know the ingredients. just eat it, and thank him.

•when he does speak, he offers the most practical advice out of the bunch: “you’ll survive. you’re stronger than whatever this is.”

•he's cold, but caring: “if it’s not life-threatening, it’s not worth worrying about. but... i get it.”

•soft-spoken comfort: stays close by, quietly grounding you with his presence. he'll offer you a spot in his laboratory for the time being, leaving you to watch as he hustles and bustles about. he isn't a fan of people in his space- in the slightest. but for you, he doesn't mind the company, so long as it helps. he won't directly admit it, but seeing you upset does something to his heart.

•it unfortunately, wouldn't be jack without some out of pocket, and highly untimed dark humor. he's working on his current 'patient', his scalpel against the lining of their abdomen when he would pause, as though an idea surfaced.

•“would harvesting an organ cheer you up? no? worth a shot.”

hoodie

•takes a more casual approach compared to the others. nudges your shoulder and says some nonchalant shit like; “what’s got you so down?”

•followed by some super-chill reassurance: “it’s not the end of the world. i’ve seen worse.”

•says it in a tone that makes him sound like he genuinely doesn't give a fuck, and is instead saying it in prayer god gives him a second chance for being 'kind'. he does, genuinely care however. he wouldn't have asked if he didn't.

•when he realizes it's something 'trivial' (in his mind), he'll give you some lighthearted distraction. hoodie offers to hang out or go on a random drive to take your mind off it. if you accept to hang out, you're both watching some rag-tag channel that your old, boxy ass television could pull up. it's absolutely shit. if you accept the drive, the radio is on, playing some old song that helps you clear your mind. the two of you definitely get going.

•if it's not the radio you're focused on, it's his singing. it's either god awful, and it makes you want to die more than whatever inconvenienced you at first, or he should have been a choir boy.

•snack attack: you two pull into a gas station along the way to fill up the old piece of rust. he goes in, comes back out with a pack of cigarettes and some chips in hand. he'll carelessly throw the bag of chips at you and say, “here. don’t say i never do anything for you.”

•soft teasing: “you’re cute when you’re mad, but let’s not make it a habit.”

•followed by some subtle care: puts his hoodie around your shoulders if you look especially down, or you're out late on your drive and it's getting cold.

jason the toymaker

•100% makes a toy bribe: instantly offers to make you a custom toy to cheer you up. “what’s your favorite color again?” it's cheesy, but it does have it's odd way of working it's magic.

•jason can get into quite an overprotective mode, often getting himself frustrated when he cant disect the root of your problem. “what caused this? tell me so I can fix it." .. "am i going to kill them..? what does it matter?"

•the answer is yes. yes, he is.

•soft-spoken comfort: “don’t worry. i’ll always take care of you.” he has a way of reassuring you even when you have your doubts, almost with an expertise that surprises you. if you were ever questioning his genuinity, he's answered for you.

•possessive guilt-tripper. “i don’t like seeing my favorite person like this. smile for me, will you?” he's sweet, in the worst of ways. jason knew all he had to do was flash you that charming smile of his, and you'd bend to his will. it was both a curse and a blessing.

•makes up some distracting hobby. he invites you to join him on a whim in making something to calm your nerves. (he definitely ends up taking over your craft.)

•encourages gentle insistence much like bloody painter. “you’re allowed to be upset, but not for long. it doesn’t suit you.”

•creepy but.. comforting? reassurance: “nothing bad can happen to you while i’m here. i'll make sure of it.” you aren't allowed out of his sights for a while.

jeff the killer

•mockery overload. “aww, you’re upset? should I call the waaah-mbulance?” he's a fucking asshole and he knows it, but his emotional boundaries hold no shame. if you knew any better, you would think he didn't care if he made you feel better or worse.

•teasing to comfort: purposefully annoys you until you either laugh or yell at him. he is 100%, more than likely aiming for the latter, getting a sick sense of satisfaction from knowing you're wound up now because of him. “see? you’re not upset anymore!”

•he's a twat with territorial anger: if it’s someone else’s fault, he’s immediately ready to fight, thinking of the most irrational ways to kill someone for your sake (though there is already nothing rational about him). “who do i need to carve a smile into?”

•though a selfish sod, he does have some genuinely surprising softness when it comes to you. if you’re genuinely upset, he awkwardly wraps his arm around your shoulder and says, “it’s fine. just... chill, okay?” he's rubbing your back until his hand is numb, or you become agitated.

•clumsy reassurance: “you’ve got me, so who cares about dumb stuff like that?”

•even throughout the comforting, his offer of violence still stands. “say the word, and i’ll make it disappear. permanently.”

•jeff is the absolute fucking worst for guilt deflection. if he caused the inconvenience, he’ll deny responsibility, but quietly try to make it better. he sees admitting to his faults as a weakness, but a few hours later, when he‐ again‐, sees your mood hasn't improved— he's begrudgingly coming over and taking your hand to apologize. his words are lazy sounding, but they are true. it pisses him off that he has to go such lengths to make you feel better, but in the end, it's you. so he'll cope.

jane the killer

•she is a direct comfort sort of woman: “what’s wrong? talk to me.”

•when she notices its an re-occuring issue bothering you more than usual, she'll go into problem-solving mode. jane listens carefully and offers solutions, even if you just want to vent. she loves listening to you talk, even if it's under more unfortunate circumstances.

•has a protective streak much like her male counterpart: “if it’s someone else’s fault, i’ll handle it.” and she means it

•queen of tough love. it's her kingdom. “you’re stronger than this. don’t let it get to you.” she's seen too many people react irrationally because of minor inconveniences (jeff), and she would hate to see you deliberately get into trouble because of something as 'simple' as frustration.

•silent presence: if words won’t help, she stays with you until you feel better. if your room is a mess, she'll clean your clothes off the floor, fold, and carry your laundry to the washer while you relax on your bed. she won't let you leave until she's positive you're at least feeling a little better about your situation, and even then, she's by your side for most the day.

•though she can be just as stubborn as anyone else, jane does make a soft admission: “i hate seeing you so upset. tell me how to help.”

•makes some gentle distraction (unlike clockwork): she suggests watching a movie or doing something fun together to lift your spirits. she will likely end up doing your makeup, the two of you on the floor together until your spirits start to rise.

laughing Jack (i hate this motherfucker)

•over-the-top antics because he's just like that, unfortunately. he's a piece of shit, but tries to make you laugh with ridiculous jokes or obnoxious pranks. a for effort, i guess. he's giving it his best shot.

•much like jeff, being a complete dick, there is that aspect of mock concern: “oh no! we must alert the circus of your sorrow!” sarcastic cunt.

•there is some aspect of unexpected sweetness with him, i would think (hope). if you’re genuinely upset, he tones it down and says, “hey, I don’t like seeing you like this.”

•he's crouching down onto his knees as you sit on the edge of your bed, his large, ugly ass hands cupping your face the best he can without shanking you with his gross, long fingers. his thumbs 'gently' rub your cheeks as he let's you breathe your frustration out.

•clownish ass distractions: pulls out a random toy or silly object to cheer you up. from out of fuck-all nowhere, he pulls a doll out from behind its back. it's even more hideous than him, which is difficult. it's stuffing is gruesomely ripped out, instead, packed full with grotesque looking candies. he'll awkwardly discard it on the floor when he sees it's only made your mood worse. what an idiot.

•chaotic energy: “let’s go do something fun! or dangerous! or both!”

•you don't feel like doing anything

•gentle honesty: “i'm not good at this comforting stuff, but I’m here for you.”, even though you already knew that. though the semblance is appreciated.

kagekao

•you're still a victim of playful mockery. "you look adorable when you’re mad. like a tiny storm cloud". he's mocking you while you want to punch him into a smear.

•teasing distractions. he pokes at your cheeks or steals something of yours to make you chase him. he genuinely does not care that you feel murderous tendencies towards him at the moment. it's his life mission to torment you eternally.

•jovial comfort: “don’t worry, i’ll take care of everything. or, at least, pretend I did.”

•surprise gifts. when he knows he's pushed you too far, he will opt to leave you a random (sometimes unsettling) trinket to cheer you up. he knows he's the source of your agitation, so he tries his 'best' to make up for it.

•more lighthearted annoyance. “you know i can’t take you seriously when you’re pouting like that, right?”

•unexpected wisdom from someone who is such a cunt to deal with. “life’s too short to stress over these things. laugh it off.”

•silently lurks nearby until you calm down, offering his silent presence as comfort.

masky

•masky will often show a reluctant concern, not outright admitting he's worried about your fluctuating attitude, but instead inviting you to chat. “what’s wrong now?” his tone is gruff, but he genuinely cares.

•practical help: masky fixes the problem (if possible) without saying much about it; especially when it comes down to it being an issue with anything containing an engine. if you're frustrated by an issue you're having with your vehicle, calmly, he'll tell you to give him the keys, and if he's feeling nice enough, he'll invite you out to hold the flashlight for him. just make sure you keep it steady.

•vaguely annoyed, but supportive: “seriously? you’re upset over that? fine, let’s deal with it.” he's the type to teach you about fixing your own issues, so you'll know how to deal with it next time.

•protective side: “if you need help with this, come to me. you don't need to be going to.. random guys to fix your car."

•he's definitely jealous at the thought of you going to anyone else for help but him.

•silent comfort if it's anything else that physically, he cant fix. he sits near you, not saying a word but making it clear he’s there for you.

•backhanded affection: “you’re too stubborn to let this keep you down, right?” he knows you'll take it as he's doubting you; and that you'll smarten up quick.

•masky gives you grudging hugs. awkwardly, he pulls you into a hug if you’re really upset— often on the porch as he's having a smoke. you'll be sitting on the steps, tucked up to his side. if he feels nice enough- his jacket will end up slung over your shoulders.

slenderman

•i'm going to be flat with you, he does not care.

•but if he did, he would be calm and composed. it doesn’t affect him, so he has no reason to reacf but to calm you down. “you’re letting this get to you? that’s beneath you.” he sounds unamused.

•stoic support. slenderman offers silent reassurance with his unyielding presence. sometimes he's there, sometimes he isn't. but, you always have that lingering feeling of him being close by. it's both comforting and frightening.

•intimidation tactic: “shall i remove the source of your distress?” he’s deadly serious, for the most part.

•he's slightly patronizing. he doesn't really grasp a sense of confliction about this like you do. he doesn't really get why you're making such a fuss over something so blatant. “this is not worth your energy. focus on what truly matters.”

•both helps and frustrates you more. sometimes it's pointless to explain to him.

•..somewhat gentle understanding. if you’re truly distressed, he places a hand on your shoulder and will tell you to excuse yourself from any activities later in the day.

•eerie distraction: creates a serene yet unnerving environment to take your mind off things. the effort is.. there.

•cryptic advice: “all things are temporary. even this feeling.”

ticci toby

•dry sarcasm “wow, the world’s ending because of this. guess we should all panic.” his tone is teasing but not mean-spirited. he just doesn't understand that it's truly bothering you to that extent, until you breakdown to him.

•gentle understanding: “yeah, okay, I get it. sometimes the little stuff just… builds up.” he leans back and listens without pushing you. he knows you're already overwhelmed, and makes it a point to give you some space while still being there.

•subtle comfort. he offers you his jacket or quietly sits beside you, muttering, “you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. i'm not going anywhere.” like masky, he keeps you close to his side, whether sitting on a log or walking down the path. he'll encourage you to hold onto his arm.

•toby has a protective streak: “tell me who or what caused this. i’ll take care of it.” his voice is calm, but there’s an edge that means he’s serious. he doesn't like the idea of anyone pushing you around— only he can play around with you like that.

•gounding presence: if you’re spiraling, he places a hand on your shoulder or holds your hand. “breathe, okay? just focus on me for a minute.” too many times he's had to do this by himself. he understands the complications of losing yourself— and if you don't have to go through it alone, he won't allow you to.

•dull humor to lighten the mood. "if it makes you feel better, i've probably done something way stupider than whatever you’re upset about.”

•quiet reassurance: “you’ll get through this. you always do. it’s not as big as it feels right now, i promise.” he speaks softly but firmly, making sure you know he’s in your corner. he always is and will be. he's a bit more gentle than the rest.

[arieslost]

talk | op81

summary: oscar loves to talk your ear off.

word count: 1,276

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

everyone who had told you that oscar piastri wasn’t much of a talker was a bold-faced liar.

that, or maybe they just never got to see that side of him.

before you started dating oscar, you totally believed it. the first few interactions the two of you had were awkward and brief, usually ending in you thinking that he actually hated you and only engaged in small talk to be nice.

the oscar you know now is nothing like the oscar you first met, and even though you’ve been with him for the better part of two years, his ability to talk for hours is still as shocking to you as it was in the beginning.

it started out innocently enough. the first time you hadn’t been able to attend a race, oscar called you the moment he was back in his hotel room. you’d only been dating for five months at that point, and you vividly remember your shock when you accepted the facetime call and he started talking at a mile a minute. you’d barely gotten out a “hello” before he started recapping his entire day in precise detail. he didn’t even stop to take a drink of water in his enthusiasm.

that turned into the two of you developing a routine. every time you couldn’t make it to a race, oscar would call you at the end of the day and tell you everything he’d been dying to tell you.

“you could text me some of this stuff, you know,” you told him once, and he had wrinkled his nose cutely.

“why would i text it to you when i can just tell you about it on the phone?” he’d responded, like your suggestion was completely outlandish.

it’s endearing, really, the way he’s always so excited every time you pick up the phone. like he is right now.

“hi, honey!” he says brightly the moment the call connects and you can see each other’s faces.

“hey, oz,” you smile, your mood immediately lifting at the sound of his voice. “how was your day?”

“oh, i have so much to tell you,” he leans forward, his hair obscuring the camera for a moment before he leans back with a piece of paper in his hand.

“what is that?” you ask, watching as he unfolds it.

“this, my love, is my list.” he says, turning it around so you can see the way the page is full of his writing, not only on the lines but in the margins, too. “if i can read my own handwriting.”

“busy day?” you pull the hood of your sweatshirt further over your head so it covers more of your screen.

“you have no idea. i don’t even know where to start.” he sighs, eyes scanning the paper before he looks back up at the camera. “but i want to hear about your day first.”

“ah, it was okay. boring. i got so used to traveling around with you that i don’t know what to do now that i’m home all by myself.” it’s a lie, of course.

you wouldn’t miss oscar’s birthday for the world, and that was why you’d been so believable when you told him that you were so sorry, but you couldn’t make it to japan for the next race. even thinking about not being with him for his birthday was enough to upset you, so he bought it easily. conspiring with mark and lando, you’d gotten your hands on a plane ticket and formed a plan to get to the hotel with oscar being none the wiser.

which is how you’re here, at the end of the hallway on his hotel floor, waiting for the perfect time to interject.

“oh, i have to tell you about how free practice went, the second session, not the first,” he’s saying, squinting a little at the paper. “i wrote it over something else and i can’t see what it says. whatever. anyway, it’s raining here, and, like, half the cars didn’t end up going out for the second session. i was just trying to do my best for the session but i ended up setting the fastest lap! i didn’t even know until i got out of the car. did you watch? i don’t know if you did, i forgot to ask you, but i think it was a 1:34 or something like that. i could’ve been faster, obviously, but it was raining. its still raining right now actually which kind of sucks. i wouldn’t mind if you were here, but it’s just miserable and cold.” he pauses to take a breath. “wait, where are you?”

well that you weren’t expecting. “at home… where else would i be?” you reply, hoping that your confusion looks genuine.

“your background looks… i dunno.” he presses his lips together. “doesn’t look the same.”

“well, i’m at home,” you repeat, trying to come up with something on the fly. “pretending that i’m talking to you face to face instead of through the phone, like always.”

“ah, yeah. i do that all the time,” he admits, giving up on his scrutinization of what little he can see behind your hood.

“i miss you,” he says then, and its absolute hell knowing you can’t knock on his door just yet.

“i miss you too, oz.” you whisper. “keep telling me about your day?”

“sure, honey.” he gives you a soft smile, once again consulting his piece of paper. “so after the second session, i went and got dinner— oh wait, i forgot to tell you what happened earlier! i left the hotel room—”

you were hoping to let him tire himself out a bit from talking so much before approaching the door, but with every little detail of his day he shares you wish more and more that he was saying it directly to you and not through the phone, so you give up on being patient and knock three times.

“hold on, baby. someone’s at the door.” he says on the other end of the call, getting up from where he’s sitting on the bed and leaving his phone behind, so you end the call to free both of your hands.

the look on his face when he opens the door is priceless. “you’re joking.”

“i figured you should tell me the rest in person,” you say. “besides, i’d be damned if i missed your birthday.”

“you’re joking,” he repeats, pulling you and your suitcase into the room and wrapping you into a tight hug. “you’re actually here.”

“of course i’m here.” you laugh, kissing his shoulder through the loose material of his worn out t-shirt. “i don’t want to be anywhere else but here.”

“i’m so happy,” is all your enthusiastic, talkative boyfriend says before kissing you, smiling against your lips the whole time.

“you hung up on me?” its the first thing he says once the two of you are cuddled up in bed, and your jaw drops.

“seriously? i’m right here, and you’re gonna come for me for hanging up on you?”

“i would never hang up on you, but whatever,” he rolls his eyes, but cuddles you closer all the same. “okay, you have to know what lando told me last night about this one thing he did over winter break. it doesn’t sound bad at first, but i promise you it gets so much worse.”

you sigh in content, happier than anything to be in oscar’s arms and listening to him talk your ear off for the foreseeable future. you would never lie about it— you don’t want to be anywhere else but here, with him.

note: happy oscar dayyy!! wishing my fellow aries the best birthday ever and i hope you all enjoyed this 🫶🏼 i low key hate it but hopefully that’s just me lolz

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @lightsoutletsgo

[lost-inthe-v0id]

Someone PLEASE needs to do this

Like something about zuko and fire bending reader being engaged. Like she’s a royal and they’re being “forced to get married” but they actually fall in love. They support each other through everything and they’re literally stuck at the hip. They sneak out to see each other and whenever they have to go to formal events they can’t wait to see each other and they goof around all night. She knows all of his secrets and how he feels about his father and mother.

Reader somewhat gets along with Azula. Reader doesn’t like the way she treats zuko sometimes but she acknowledges she is only a product of the adults around her so she has a soft spot for her.

Then when zuko get exiled he’s so caught up on getting his fathers approval. He promises to her he’ll be back before she knows it. He knows how hard it is for her in the palace. She tries to go with him just as his ship is leaving, pleading with him one last time; insisting she can be of help. He declines her kinda harsh but she understands and bids him farewell. She walks away but remembers she has to give him something. A token of good luck. When she runs back to give it to him she over hears Zuko talking to someone telling them he didn’t want reader to come because she’d be baggage, a burden, dead weight. Reader is hurt and goes back to her room in the palace and cries her sorrows away. She really thought he thought more of her, he always complimented her when she firebent, she was taught by the best and he still thought of her as deadweight?

In Reality Zuko only said that because he knew he wasn’t going to come back for a while, he knew it would inevitably she would fall for someone else during the time he was away. What if he came back with his hopes up only to find her in the arms of someone else, someone who was there for her, who would care and love her then and there. He wasn’t good for her. And the faster he convinced himself he could move on, the less he would cling to her when he inevitably saw her again.

Time passes by and reader comes to the conclusion from the help of overthinking, that he never loved her. It was all a facade to win the approval of his father. If he really cared for her , he would know how awful it was in the palace without him. He abandoned her. And for what to find some kid?

She joins azula. She’s really good at fire bending and she hates to see azula practically destroy herself and the people around her for some approval. So she decided if no one will properly take care of her, she will. Over time Reader has disconnected her feelings from the actions she takes under Azula. Her only concern right now is Azula. She realizes Azula at her core is a wounded little girl and she takes care of her as her own.

IDK when or where reader and zuko reconnects or see glimpses of each other again but when he sees how she cares for Azula he melts away. You’re so scary to people around you but soft and nurturing towards his sister. He wants that. He needs it. At one point when you challenge him to fight due to anger from maybe hurting Azula in some type of way or jealousy due to his kindness towards katara. When you firebent in the past you made sure your flames wouldn’t hurt him but now they’re coming at him full force and he doesn’t know what to do.

@ me if u do plz give credit 👉👈🥺 I can’t write like that

[solarmorrigan]

oooh. fic requests! how about 6 - fight or 19 - allergies for steddie?

Hello! I'm sorry it took so long to get to this one, but I hope it's alright! I went with:

6. Fight - Steddie

cw: implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced domestic violence, unhealthy relationship dynamics (not between Eddie and Steve)

-

The most frustrating thing about fighting with Steve is that he doesn’t fight. Not really.

Sure, he’ll poke and he’ll prod and he’ll snip and he’ll snap; he’ll dole out bitchy, passive aggressive comments and roll his eyes and sigh pointedly, but the moment things get heated, the moment an argument gets real, it’s just–

“Fine. Fine,” Steve snaps, tossing his hands up with an exasperated huff. “You’re right, okay? I’m– I’m sorry.”

And at first, Eddie had always felt so vindicated, so flush with the triumph of winning an argument, that it had taken him a while to realize that it felt– wrong. That Steve—so confident, so sure in his opinions, so willing to stand up to people when he has something to defend—would just give in without a fight– it feels wrong.

So Eddie had tried to pay attention – really pay attention. They don’t fight often, but when an argument inevitably does crop up, Eddie always wins. Rather, Steve always lets him. He never raises his voice, never gets in Eddie’s face, never really even makes counterarguments. He cedes to Eddie’s points and then subsides and it’s– it’s infuriating, because Eddie doesn’t understand.

“Don’t do that,” Eddie growls, tugging a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Don’t– what? Don’t apologize?” Steve asks incredulously.

“No!” Eddie bursts out. “Not if you don’t mean it!”

“Excuse me?” Steve draws back, offended. “What the hell do you want me to do to prove I’m sincere? Get on my knees and fucking grovel?”

“That’s not–” Eddie leaves off with a frustrated noise, trying hard to keep his tone level. “I don’t want to win an argument just because you let me. I don’t want you to apologize just because you think it’s what I want to hear.”

“I’m not letting you win,” Steve says quickly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You are, though. You do. Every time. You won’t actually engage, you just say I’m right and then clam up and that’s it,” Eddie says.

Steve levels him with a look of disbelief. “So– what, you want me to yell at you? You want me to tell you that you’re wrong?”

“I want–” Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a second to gather his thoughts. “I want you to feel like you’re allowed to argue with me. I don’t want you to just give in and then resent me or something.”

“I don’t resent you, Eddie,” Steve says with a roll of his eyes.

“No?” Eddie pushes. “How many times have we gone to bed after an argument with me perfectly satisfied, thinking I’ve won, while you’re actually still mad at me?”

“That’s– I don’t…” Steve shifts uncomfortably. “If I’m still mad, that’s my problem. I can just get over it.”

“But that’s exactly what I mean!” Eddie insists. “That shit builds up! And besides, what if you’re the one who’s really right? I might actually be wrong, and you should tell me. Or maybe there’s some kind of, like, compromise we can reach, I don’t know! I don’t want you to be afraid to push back – I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Steve says, jaw jutting out stubbornly when Eddie fixes him with a considering look. “I’m not. I’m just– how long before yelling turns into a screaming match? How long before it turns into throwing shit around, or��� or shoving each other, or worse?”

“Steve…” Eddie murmurs, the last of his heated frustration draining away, leaving a clammy kind of dismay in its place. “Steve, I would never do any of those things to you.”

“I know,” Steve says, and it sounds like he means it. “I know that. But what if I–”

“No,” Eddie says firmly, because he thinks he understands now – Steve isn’t afraid of him, he’s afraid of himself. Afraid of turning into everything he’d been raised around: the blowout arguments between his parents, his mom’s petty destruction of his dad’s things, his dad’s frustration turned back on Steve, a cycle of violent familial bullshit that Steve is determined to break free from, even if it means saying that he’s wrong every time. Eddie comes forward, grabbing Steve’s hands; he can’t even remember what they’d been arguing about moments before, but he knows he doesn’t care anymore. “You would never do that. I know you, Steve, you are nothing like that.”

Steve looks down at their joined hands, blinking rapidly. “This– you… You’re more important than winning. Than any stupid argument,” he says.

“That’s exactly why we should have stupid arguments,” Eddie says, grinning a little when that gets a choked laugh out of Steve. “I’m serious. Let’s have stupid, petty arguments so they don’t turn into big ones. I swear I’m not going to stay mad if you get on my ass about not doing the dishes.”

Slowly, Steve nods. He doesn’t entirely look like he believes Eddie, but that’s fine. It’s always been like this – Steve unwilling (or unable) to believe that someone will love him if he doesn’t make it easy for them. Eddie’s been breaking that down, bit by bit, and this is no different. This is no chore.

“I’ll still love you even when I’m angry. Even when you’re angry,” Eddie promises. “I just love you, full stop.”

Steve nods again, more certain this time as he looks up to meet Eddie’s eyes. “I love you, too,” he says, because he always, always says it back, which suits Eddie just fine.

He figures if they can agree on that much, every other disagreement will be a breeze.

[afloweroutofstone]

I have followed you for like 10 years and I am so impressed by how you have never really touched scandalized idpol type controversies. You make it so clear that you support marginalized groups but don’t get wrapped up in pointless disputes about it. We’re the same age and I just don’t know how you have always been able to identify what is serious and what isn’t even back in earlier tumblr days. Idk you don’t have to publish this I just wanted to tell you. I’m glad you’re still on Tumblr

🖤 I genuinely do not care about the culture wars except for the ways that they actually affect people at the policy level, and maybe half of all culture war battles have no real policy implications. As someone who loves a good argument, it’s clear to me that much of the really intense discourse about, say, “which LGBTQ flag design is most valid?” consists of other argument-lovers finding something to argue about with each other, something with low stakes but emotionally-charged connotations that can be argued about without the need for significant research. But, frankly, once you have enough offline arguments with conservatives about bombing the Middle East, engaging in online arguments with other progressives about proper terminology starts to feel trivial fast

[redicillin]

hello... your blog is a lifesaver i'm so starved for chase content. i was wondering if i could request chase x f!reader who is a flirt and a tease, except she can dish it out, but can't take it? she usually throws these remarks around not expecting anyone to actually play into things, but chase does, and her bravado crumbles... thank you... augh

𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 (𝐫.𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞)

you like to flirt, but when chase starts flirting back, you’re not exactly sure what to do.

fem!reader ☆ 1.5k ☆ masterlist.

You’ve always been a bit of a tease. It’s not something you do with much thought—it’s just fun. A casual remark here, a wink there. You like the easy game of it, the way people brush it off as playful banter. Nothing serious. You flirt because it’s entertaining, not because you expect anyone to take the bait.

That’s why, when you first start working with Chase, it’s just another playground to you.

He’s sharp-witted, calm under pressure, and disarmingly charming in that unassuming way. Too handsome for his own good, really—angular jaw, perfect blond hair, and eyes you can’t look at for too long without feeling a little dizzy. Naturally, you test the waters.

You throw out a few low-effort lines in the beginning—just enough to see if he’ll catch on. The first time, you lean over the nurses’ station where he’s reviewing a patient’s chart and let your fingers brush lightly against his hand.

“Careful, Dr. Chase. Don’t want to give a girl the wrong idea,”

You expect him to smirk, maybe roll his eyes. But he doesn’t. Instead, he glances at you, one brow barely lifting, and hums in response. Nonchalant. He doesn't even look up from the chart. You’re intrigued but undeterred.

The next time, you’re sitting across from him in the break room, stirring sugar into your coffee with deliberate slowness. When you catch him watching the motion of the spoon, you give a devilish grin.

“You know, if you stare any harder, I might start thinking you’ve got a thing for me,” you tease, your voice light and breezy.

And again, nothing. Just a polite chuckle.

For a while, it’s almost disappointing. He’s either immune to your antics or too professional to engage. But you don’t let up. It becomes part of the daily routine. You flirt as though you’re dancing on the edge of a blade you’re sure will never cut you. It’s safe. You know the game.

Until he starts playing back.

It begins so subtly you almost miss it. One day, while you’re walking side by side down the hallway, you toss out a casual, “Trying to keep up with me, Chase?”

And this time, he doesn’t give you the dismissive half-smile. He slows his stride by half a step, deliberately falling behind. Then, with a low murmur, he lets his gaze drop.

“Maybe I just like the view from here,”

It throws you. You stumble slightly, caught off guard by the sudden warmth blooming in your chest. You glance at him, but he’s already back to his usual composed self, as if he didn’t just catch you completely off guard.

You tell yourself it was a one-off. A fluke. But it isn’t.

The next time you’re in the conference room together, you’re bent over a case file on the table, your hip cocked slightly. You feel his gaze before he speaks.

“Is this your strategy?” His voice is a smooth drawl. You glance over your shoulder, confused.

“Hmm?”

“Trying to distract me on purpose,” His eyes skim over you briefly before he looks back at the file.

You laugh, but it comes out too high-pitched. You straighten immediately, heart thudding, and when you sit down, you make a point to tuck your legs beneath you, suddenly unsure what to do with your own body.

It gets worse. Or better. You can’t decide.

You’re in the lab a few days later, reaching for something on the highest shelf. The stretch makes your scrub top ride up slightly, and you hear the unmistakable sound of Chase’s voice from behind you.

“Need a hand?”

You glance over your shoulder, still reaching, your mouth already opening to toss back a flippant I’m fine—but you don’t get the chance. He steps closer, so close you can feel the warmth of him behind you. One hand comes to rest lightly at your waist as he easily retrieves the item.

He lingers just a beat too long. His breath warm against your neck.

When you turn, he’s still too close. Close enough that you’re suddenly hyper-aware of the faint scent of his cologne. You back up a step, but he doesn’t move.

“Better?” he asks, voice low.

You can’t speak. You clear your throat, grab the item you can’t remember why you even need, and turn away with a muttered, “Thanks,”

Your pulse is erratic. You can feel the heat rising up your neck, staining your cheeks. It’s infuriating. And thrilling. And completely unfair.

You start to avoid him, just a little. Just enough to regain your composure. You stick to your old habits, hoping to reclaim the upper hand. You tease others in the hospital more frequently, though none of it lands with the same sting of anticipation.

But Chase is patient. He doesn’t rush it. He waits until you let your guard down again.

You’re in the locker room, alone, exhausted after a long shift. You’ve peeled off your lab coat, and your scrubs are rumpled, clinging slightly from the day’s exertion. You’re leaning against the lockers when the door opens.

It’s him. Of course it is.

You glance at him in the mirror as he steps inside. Your tired eyes meet his in the reflection, and you muster the last of your bravado.

“Uh-oh. Don’t tell me you came in here just to see little old me,” You’re aiming for playful, but your voice is strained with fatigue.

His eyes stay on yours as he walks over to his locker. Slowly, deliberately, he peels off his lab coat, folding it neatly. You watch his fingers with a little too much interest.

When he speaks, his voice is softer this time. More dangerous somehow.

“Would you be disappointed if I said no?”

The comment hits you like a punch to the sternum. You glance at him sharply, but he doesn’t look at you right away. He’s rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt with casual efficiency, exposing his forearms. You tear your gaze away, suddenly unable to handle the sight of the tendons shifting beneath his skin.

“Oh, please,” You force a smirk, crossing your arms over your chest to feign nonchalance. “You’re not that irresistible,”

He laughs softly, finally turning to face you fully. His eyes catch yours and hold them, and something in his gaze makes your stomach flip.

“Funny,” he says, his voice dropping ever so slightly. “Because you look a little flustered,”

You open your mouth to protest, but the words catch in your throat. You’re flustered, alright, and he knows it. He takes a step closer, his eyes heavy-lidded and calm, like he’s barely exerting any effort at all. You’re suddenly acutely aware of your own shallow breathing.

He doesn’t touch you. He doesn’t have to. His voice is enough.

“Didn’t expect me to fight back, did you?” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly. His tone is soft, but you catch the faintest trace of smugness in it.

You shake your head faintly, unsure if you’re denying his accusation or admitting defeat. Your skin feels hot, your pulse thumping in your ears.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asks, leaning in slightly.

The bastard. He’s enjoying this.

You swallow thickly, trying to will yourself to break eye contact. To laugh it off. To say something. But you can’t. Because in that moment, the game you were so certain you’d been winning has flipped entirely.

The silence stretches too long. He’s too close. His voice is too low.

And when you finally speak, your voice barely carries above a whisper.

“You’re insufferable,” you murmur, but the words lack bite.

Chase’s lips twitch into the faintest smirk, and he leans in just a fraction closer, his breath warm against your temple.

“Only for you,”

Your hands twitch at your sides, aching to grab his shirt, to pull him to you. But you’re still frozen. Suspended. Your carefully constructed walls, the teasing façade you’ve perfected over years, is crumbling spectacularly.

He leans back just slightly, giving you the briefest moment of reprieve. Then, without another word, he turns and heads for the door.

Your knees feel unsteady. Your entire body is buzzing with the aftershock of his proximity. You exhale shakily, closing your eyes.

And when the door clicks shut behind him, you realise with an abrupt, stomach-swooping certainty, you’re completely and utterly screwed.

[ilysungho]

is size training with taesan weird? I have this little thought about size training with him using diff sizes of a dildo. he's definitely packing a huge one in his pants, but you're so hesitant you make up all the excuses in the surface of the earth just to not do it with him. busy with work, too lazy, fake sleeping, until it ticks taesan off and he's ramming into you without a care in the world.

I probably need to get some sleep 😔

- 🌹

noooo that’s not weird at all!! also i apologize for getting to this so late, uni has been taking me out everyday 😭

mean taesan who can’t take anymore excuses from you :( he is so frustrated because even though you’re able to feel all the pleasure with just a dildo and his fingers, he has to hold back and take care of himself on his own. he knows he’s big and doesn’t want to hurt you, but he also knows the surely you can take him now. you’ve both tried almost every size of a dildo you could find, stopping at right before his own size. taesan did say he didn’t want you to use a toy that’s his size when he could finally use his own dick to fuck you properly. but perhaps you were scared to actually try him out properly. maybe you were scared that he really would be too big for you to handle. after a couple weeks of constant excuses though, he corners you before you could give him another. “why do you keep running away from me? i know you can take it. i’ll even go slowly so-” “but you’re so big tae… i can’t.” another one. he was properly pissed now as he flipped you over and pulled your bottoms down in one go. he couldn’t wait until you were wet on your own as he grabbed the lube from the side table and practically emptied the bottle out in you. taesan would be palming his boner during it, taking it out of his boxers to push into you. at first, he’d go slowly since he really doesn’t want to hurt you. he even tells you to tell him the safe word you both had come up with on the first day you started to engage sexually. but you don’t say anything as your moans come out muffled through the pillow pressed against your face. he’d push all the way in, muttering a soft finally, before he bunches your hair in his hand and pulls your head up. “i knew you could do it, princess.” and at that, he completely lets go and pounds into you like never before. he was bound to go crazy some day after all the rejections.

[writers-hes]

tell me you need me (1 of 2) | c. berzatto x reader

It was good when you started but Carmen Berzatto had the ability to make anyone fall in love with him no matter how much you tried not to. (friends with benefits!carmen, smut, mndi!!!, unprotected p in v, smut! smut!, angst!! fluff, maybe some bad words, blood, unedited) MASTER LISTS

TAGLIST

I need you tonight. Want to go?

You sighed at the message that Carmy sent you. “Want to go” was a code for “I want to have sex.” and it’s been working pretty well for these past few months. You both needed some sort of release for the pent-up stress that you both have. Carmy, with the Bear and you, with art. You were a full-time artist; creating art inspired by food using oil paint and other forms of media. You’ve been stressed with your upcoming gallery opening next month. Would they love it? It’s quite hard to meet the expectations after winning the Herb Alpert Award in the Arts last year. It was close to Carmy’s James Beard Foundation award, if not the same. In a way, at the end of the day, you were two people excelling in your jobs except for everything else. You sucked at relationships, friendships, connection…what wasn’t artistic; you sucked at. Carmy was the same. Without thinking, you typed your response, a four letter word. Maybe you’ll see him tonight.

-

Carmy enters your home like he lived in it. He had his own set of keys, it was easier that way. He’s been so stressed with the Bear and the only thing that he needs is to blow off some of that steam before he can be functional again. There was supposed to be a celebrity who was wishing for a whole fucking kitchen tour tomorrow and he had to stay behind to make sure that everything was perfect. 

“Hey,” he greets you when he sees you perched on your couch. He liked your apartment much better; at least you had multiple rooms and your own space. It’s not like his; there was work everywhere while yours felt homey. Except your studio down the hall—damn, how much do artists earn today?

“Hey,” you replied. “Did you have dinner yet? I can heat up some of the Chinese food I ordered earlier.”

“No, no. It’s alright,” he says, removing his shoes in the doorway. You were always so tidy and meticulous. No outside clothes on the bed; he had to learn that the hard way. “Actually, um, can-can I take a shower first? I want to wash the day away and I-I smell like the kitchen.”

“And you took the L,”

“Ubered here, actually.”

“Surge rates?”

“I was in a rush.”

“Oh,” you gulped. “Well, you still have your clothes in my wardrobe and your toiletries in my bathroom.”

“Which one?” he asked. “Which-which bathroom?”

“The one in my bedroom,” you replied. “You know where the fresh towels are. So…”

“Uh, yeah-yeah,” he says. “Thanks.” You only smiled at him. Conversation before your engagements are usually awkward because you both knew what the two of you were there for. It’s more comfortable afterwards; when he talks about the Bear or asks you about your art.

You and Carmy met from a friend of a friend. You were looking for chefs that could serve you inspiration for your paintings when she mentioned Carmen Berzatto. You reached out to him and he replied three months later, telling you that he can show you some of the recipes that he’s been working on. He’s an artist himself—Sistine Chapel art kind of stuff. He explained the components of his dish over dinner in your hotel apartment in New York. You mentioned that you were from Chicago and he mentioned that he’s from Chicago too…you drank too much wine and the rest was history. 

You both stopped communicating when he met Claire but he reached out again, asking if you wanted to meet. He told you all about her and how he fucked up. You drank too much wine again. History has the habit of repeating itself.

You swore to never fall in love with Carmen Berzatto and you didn’t…not until recently. He used to leave immediately once you’re both done. Lately, he’s been staying over. He talks to you about everything. He stays over and wakes you up with coffee and some Michelin Star quality pancakes or French toast. He watches you take your first bite before he takes his, likes to watch your reaction and likes hearing your praise.

You were too lost in your reviere to notice Carmen walking to you, all fresh and clean. He lays a hand on your shoulder and kisses your neck.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, voice deep and sultry. 

“You,” you replied, reaching up to massage his curls. 

“Good,” he says, removing himself from you and sitting on the opposite side of the couch. “Needed you today…but I want to talk first before…before…”

“That’s fine with me,” you replied, inching closer to him. “What’s wrong?” He puts his hand on your knee, squeezing it lightly. Since when was he so comfortable around you?

“I…I just… Mikey,” The name lingers heavy in the air. Anytime Carmen feels the crushing weight of the pressure, he says Mikey. Whenever he feels inadequate, not enough, never enough—he says Mikey.

“He’ll be proud of you, Carm,” you said, smiling at him. “Like everyone else is.”

“I’m sorry for not inviting you to the opening…Claire was-was there and…”

“I understand,” You put your hand over his to reassure him that everything’s okay. “I understand.”

“You wouldn’t have seen me,” he chuckled. “I was locked inside the walk-in the whole time and well, everything was great. What if I’m not needed?”

Is it too late for me to love you? 

“Carm…” you trailed off, trying to find the words. “Of course, you’re needed. The Bear wouldn’t be The Bear without you, you know? Your family must be so proud of you because I know that-that I am. I’m so proud of you and I-I need you so much,” you told him. “I need you, Carmen. More than you could ever know.”

Is it too late for me to love you? 

Maybe it was the words that you said, maybe it was the long forgotten show on the T.V., maybe it was because the T.V. screen illuminated your face in a way that was so, so beautiful. Maybe it was just him.

“Let’s go to bed,” he rasps, taking your hand and dragging you to the bedroom. Once he closes the door behind him, Carmy presses you against it, taking your chin and kissing you. It was slow and needy; this kiss was needy. You trail your hand underneath the white shirt that hugged his figure. You caress his sides up and down; softly; slowly and Carmen releases a whimper into your mouth. I need you. I need you. I need you. 

“Baby,” he whispers, pulling away from you to remove his shirt. “Baby, baby, baby.”

“I need you, Carmen,” you muster the courage to kiss his neck now, sucking and nipping right under his collarbone. He lets you do it, he lets you mark him like you own him. He tugs on the roots of your hair lightly. You lick the purple bruise, nipping it again just so it could last one more week. Carmen was sighing above you, letting you take him like he wanted to be taken. His hands itch, slipping right under the waistband of your panties to cup your heated cunt. “Carmy,”

“I know, baby. Let’s get you to bed, hm?” he asks, pushing you slightly. “Lay down for me. I missed you so much. Let me show you,”

You obey his commands, opening your legs widely like he likes. He crawls until his face is right in front and removes your underwear, tossing it to the side. He’ll take care of that later.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, when he lets his index finger trail along your slit. You buckle in need; silently begging him to do more. “So, fucking wet,” he repeats, parting your folds until he sees your glistening cunt. 

“Carm…” you whine. He spits on your clit and you whimper. 

“Let me taste you, hm?” you heard him say, his wandering fingers rubbing all sorts of shapes on your folds. You could only nod and he takes that, licking a bold stripe. You press your cunt against his tongue and he just takes it. He licks a few more stripes before sucking your clit softly. 

“Carmy,” you moan. Your hands trail down underneath your shirt, thumbs softly flicking your sensitive nipples. Carmy could just come at the sight of you playing with them but he holds back, sucking your clit harsher before plunging his thick middle finger inside you. “Oh, fuck,” 

He pumps the finger slowly…in, out, in, out while he licks your sensitive bud. 

“Fuck, Carmy,” you whimper. “Fuck me,”

“Later,” was his nonchalant reply; enjoying the sweet nectar that dripped from your sloppy pussy. It was better than any dessert he’s ever had before. If it was um to him, he’d have his head buried in between your legs, eating you out forever. You buckle again, pinching your nipples hard and tugging them. 

“Carm…”

“I know, I know,” he says, sucking your clit harshly for one last time before crawling on top of you. “Taste,” he orders. You obliged, opening your mouth and putting on a show with the way you licked your juices off of his finger. “Fuck,” he groans. He palms himself through his boxers while you sucked on his finger. You released it with one last suck before putting your hand on top of Carmy’s to feel his hardening cock underneath. You push his hand away while you squeeze his member lightly. Just enough for him to rut his hips against your hand. Just enough for him to toss his boxers to the side.

You tried to sit up to see him pump a few strokes, moaning your name while he did. He gets off the bed, looking at the way your body moved while you breathed. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself before dragging your body to the end of the bed. He pries your legs open and puts one of them over his shoulder. He liked it like this, it fills you up in ways you cannot describe. “Need you to play with your tits while I fuck you, hm?”

He taps his cock against your pussy.

“Can you hear how wet you are?” he asked, sliding his cock in between your folds. You could feel the protruding vein run along your nub and you moan, massaging your breasts to show him your obedience. “Fuck,”

“Carmy…” you whimpered. “Please.”

He hums, grabbing his member and teasing your wet entrance with his pink tip. “You’re so…”

With no warning, Carmy plunges deep into you and you both groan. You were waiting for this. He’s been wanting this the whole day. He stays there for a few seconds before he thrusts in and out of you slowly. 

“Fuck,” 

The slopping noises inside your room reverberated in your walls and for a few moments, the sounds of your groans and skin slapping against skin heightens your arousal. Carmy thumbs your clit and he feels your walls clench around him.

“Don’t do that, petal,” he rasps, sweat dripping on his forehead. “I’ll cum fast if you do.”

“Sorry,” you choked out. He only grunts as he adjusts his pace. He was faster now and you could hear he ragged breathing. “Carmy, I need you.”

“Y-you need me,” he repeats to himself. “You need me.”

“I do,” you told him, moaning when he plunges his cock deep inside you. “Need you, need you,” 

“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “Tell me that you need me. Tell me,”

“I need you, Carmy,” you whine. “I need you to cum inside me,” 

Carmy’s eyes widened. You’ve never let him do that before. He always had to pull out or use a condom. 

“Want me to fill you up?” he asks, his voice strained. “I’ll fill you —oh, fuck,” 

“Yes, please,” you sobbed, breath hitching at the feeling of his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck, Carmy.”

Sex has never felt this good. 

You could feel the breaking point come nearer and he does too. His movements were sloppier, his breathing even more ragged that it was. Your walls were clenching around him but that seemed to arouse him even more. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he grunted. “I’ll fill you up, hm?” 

“Yes, please, Carmy,” you whine. He could only nod, doing his best to keep his orgasm at bay. He wanted to prolong this feeling; this emotion but he couldn’t. “Fuck, Carmy, I’m cumming, I’m cumming. Carm—oh!”

He follows soon after, moaning your name as he shoots ropes of cum inside your pussy. He could feel your walls clench around him and he thrusts in slowly, to ride both of your orgasms away. 

“You-you liked that?” he asked. He doesn’t pull out. Instead he takes your other leg and hangs in on his shoulder. “We have to make sure that not a drop goes to waste.”

You nodded and felt his hands caress your legs slowly. He slowly lays your legs back down on the bed and crawls on top of you, kissing your torso, neck, and your chest while he did. 

“Stay there,” he ordered and you nodded in assent. You just let him cum inside you. He walks over to the carafe on your bedside, filling the glass with water and then, taking a hand towel from your cabinet. He pours a little bit of the liquid onto the towel. You sit up when he wordlessly gives you the glass of water. He watches you finish it and kisses your head when you gave him the glass back. He sets it on the floor carefully before opening your legs so he could clean you up.

“No,” you shook your head and he stops, alert because you told him no. “I’m…I’m still sensitive,”

“Okay, petal,” he nods, taking the glass and the towel away. He picks up the tossed articles of clothing puts it in the laundry basket. He was quiet when he takes a fresh set of pyjamas and underwear from your wardrobe. “Raise your arms,” he says and you do. He puts a new shirt on you. “Lay down.” You followed him. He puts a new pair of panties on you. “Thank you,”

You were so tired now but you were still so aware of Carmy’s actions. He stands up from the bed to wear new clothes and sits down on the bed. He carefully places your head on his lap and plays with your hair.

“Thank you,” he says, bowing down to kiss your forehead. “Why don’t you sleep for me, hm?”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Waffles or pancakes?”

“Waffles with whipped cream.”

-

Why won’t you let me love you?

There were times when you’d fight with Carmen. A disagreement over something so, so, so small. This time, it was big. It was the opening of your gallery and he promised to be there. It was a big night—multiple art collectors and mongers from all over America came to see your latest pieces. They were all inspired by the food you grew up eating in Chicago; a collection of how culture, identities, and personalities affect eating. Your paintings were in vibrant colors—cup ramen with cheese, cannoli, food that you grew up eating whenever your mom was away. There were small details on the significance of the new collection to your life and he wasn’t there. You were on the stage, telling everyone how grateful you were to the audience but you were preoccupied, looking for a familiar mop of curls in the crowd. He didn’t come. He didn’t go. 

You smiled at them half-heartedly before leaving the stage, ready to be whisked away by some art dealer. You were whisked away by multiple guests, asking you for more details on the painting. You all told them everything they needed to know, what they should do if they’d like to make a purchase…

It would have been alright if he texted you…but he promised he’d be there. He promised he’d take you home. He promised.

-

Carmy was sitting alone in his apartment. He left The Bear earlier than usual and went straight home. He did it all, shower, put a nice suit, and fix his hair. He did it all, he even ran to the nearest florist to buy you flowers but he didn’t go. 

Isn’t this what lovers do? 

He wasn’t your lover. He couldn’t let himself be distracted again. He had to focus; he couldn’t fail the people that relied on him. He looked at the bag of groceries he got from the store; he was supposed to cook you something special tonight. Have you eaten yet? Fuck the suit that he paid for dry cleaning; fuck the flowers; fuck him. It must have hurt you—he knows that. Tonight was a big night and you were so excited to show him a painting that you’ve been working on. 

“I won’t sell it,” you told him. “I’ll have it shipped to you first thing in the morning.”

Would you still send it to him?

-

By the end of the night, you were exhausted. Happy, but exhausted. It was normal; talking to everyone and being scintillating the whole night was work but it was worth it. Your paintings all had their new owners, except for the painting that you promised to Carmy. Would he still want it? You were alone in the studio, wrapping the 4 by 3 foot canvas with the best quality glassine. You were giving this to him tomorrow. If he doesn't want to have it, you’ll probably just donate it somewhere else. 

You laid awake in your bed all night long, waiting for his text. It was funny, just last week he was begging you to tell him that you needed him but when you needed him most, he wasn’t there. 

You arrive at The Bear just before it opens, the big canvas tucked under your arm. He was sure to be there and had always told you to use the back door if you weren’t dining. You always obliged, of course, opening the backdoor to reveal everyone. You’ve met Sydney and Richie before but you haven’t met the others yet. You were an alien in an unknown world; Carmy’s employees looking at you, as if wondering who this girl was. 

“Hey,” Sydney greeted, looking at the glassine covered thing that you were carrying. “Didn’t know you were coming in today. Congratulations on your exhbit,”

“Yeah, Congrats. What’s that, sweetheart?” Richie asked. 

“Oh,” you just nodded. Carmy couldn’t even look at you. “I just came here to give this to…uh, Carmy,” you cleared your throat. “Carm…?”

“Uh, yeah-yeah,” he stuttered. “Can we go to the office?” 

“Sure.”

You followed him into the office while Richie tells everyone to go back to what they were doing. Your heart was hammering inside your chest, afraid that this was going to be another one of those petty fights that you’ve had with him. 

You were wrong. So, so wrong. 

“You didn’t come last night,” you told him, shielding yourself from him with the painting. “I…I waited.”

“Sorry,” was his laconic reply. You nodded, chuckling. 

“That’s all?” you asked. “Just…sorry? No explanation, no nothing?” you asked. “I was looking for you the whole night, Carm. You promised you were coming,”

“I don’t know what-what you want me to say,” he says, looking everywhere but at you. “I-I-I’m sorry, okay? I had other plans.”

“You promised months ago that you were coming,” you repeated. “I called Sydney last night because you weren’t answering and she told me that you left early.”

“You’re spying on me now?” he asks, suddenly defensive. “I had things to do that night. I can’t-can’t just put everything on hold for-for you.” He spits his words like venom, voice getting louder with every word.

You frowned, not recognizing who the boy was in front of you. It’s not like you asked him to put his life on hold. Your heart was beating so fast in anger, ears ringing. 

“I see. So you just need me around and you-you just I don’t know, call me because you need to get your dick wet?” you asked, matching his volume. “You just need me around when no one else is there to fuck you? Is that it?” you asked. “What the fuck?” 

Carmy blinks, tries to think of the words he’s about to say but he couldn’t stop himself. He could never seem to stop himself. 

“You’re the only one desperate enough to do so,” he shrugs. It breaks your heart in pieces, really. The nights Carmen spent nuzzling his head in your shoulder before you slept probably meant nothing to him. Your face falls, contorting in hurt at what he just said. Fuck Carmen Berzatto. Fuck him. “I’m not your fucking boyfriend. I don’t know why you expect me to just-just-just do something!”

“Maybe I wanted you there as my friend!” you shouted over. Your voices could be heard from outside but everyone else pretended like they weren’t listening to anything that you both were saying. You were shouting over each other now, the fuse just breaks. “If you didn’t have any fucking plans to actually go, then don’t give me your good for nothing fucking promises!”

“I don’t need a girl leeching on me when I’m opening a fucking restaurant. Do you want me to put everything on you just because you asked me to? I’m not your fucking boyfriend. You know that right? And maybe-maybe I don’t want to be your fucking friend either!”

“Why would I want you to be my boyfriend, Carmy? You’re-you’re fucking unreliable! You have issues that need fixing. You think Claire could fix that? You think I could fix that? You think the girls you get wrapped around your fucking finger can fix your fucked up fucking head? Huh? Is that what you think? You’re so fucking miserable you make everyone around you miserable! Grow up!” He’s hurt. That’s what you thought of him? That he was miserable? Did he make you miserable?

“I don’t need to go to your fucking art exhibition when they’re all fucking shit.”

You closed your mouth before you could protest. The pain of his words felt like a slap on the face. If he regretted it, he didn’t show it. You turned away, nodding. 

“Fuck you, Carmen. Don’t fucking call me. Don’t fucking knock on my door. Don’t…don’t fucking think of me. I’m fucking done with you,”

“Yeah? You’re done with me, huh? Fuck you,” he spits back. He heard the waver in your voice; heard how you tried to steady everything. He wanted to say sorry but you were already leaving. Richie and Sydney couldn’t even ask you what happened because you were rushing out, throwing the painting you worked hard on for days at the back. Fuck Carmen Berzatto. Fuck him. 

-

“Fuck!” his chefs could hear from outside the office. Everyone heard the vile things you both screamed at each other; everyone heard why you were so angry. Everyone fucking heard. Nobody dared to move, they didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Carmy’s anger; not when The Bear was about to open. Continuous loud bangs and sounds of some object being thrown were heard too. Sugar sighed. 

“Carm?” she called from the door. “It’s almost opening,”

“I-I-I know, Sug.” he replied, blinking. “Uh, can-can you guys go ahead? I’ll be there, I just-just need to you know, calm down?”

“Okay, Bear,” she smiles, tapping the door frame before leaving Carmen in his own thoughts. He gets out of the restaurant through the back door, about to light a cigarette, when he sees the canvas wrapped with glassine. 

“Fuck,” was the only thing he could mutter before taking it and sitting where the staff usually stayed at when they wanted a break. He lights up a stick and lets it hang loose on his lips while he opens your gift with shaky hands. He was so immersed in the experience, gently removing the tape and making sure that nothing was ruined that he didn’t notice Sydney. 

The glassine reveals a painting of a plate of cannolis. He remembered that he told you the story about cannolis during Christmas and how he wanted to recreate that—take it for himself. He traces over the precise brushstrokes shakily. 

“That’s a good painting,” Sydney spoke, her hands behind her back. “Would be a waste to just throw it out.”

“I know,” Carmy nods. “I’m sorry you had to uh, hear all of that.”

“It’s…something,” Sydney replied, making Carmy chuckle. 

“I always…always seem to uh, fuck up everything,” he muttered. “I was on the way there, you know? Last night?”

“Yeah. You were so excited,”

“I was,” he coughed. “But I didn’t go because…” Words died down in his mouth. Why didn’t he go? “I’ve said some things and she-she doesn’t want me to call her anymore and I-I understand but like, I don’t know, Syd.”

Don’t know why I could never seem to just let myself enjoy things. I don’t belong anywhere else but in the fucking kitchen. It’s the only thing I was good at.

“I didn’t really want to to, uh, fuck this up.”

-

I want to talk to you.

Come to my apartment after your shift. Or whenever.

Carmen feels his palms sweat when he reads  texts you sent him days ago. He decided to go today, finally—he was never good at confronting things; always so explosive, so defensive. He didn’t know what he’d feel like today. He knocks on your door and hears the shuffling from the other side. He just got out of The Bear; he was tired but he forced himself to go. He had to go. 

“Hey,” you smiled tightly when you opened the door. “Come in.”

He nods, wordlessly entering your apartment like how henused to. Bag and shoes on the side. Somehow, this made him more nervous than usual. This was a prelude to something else entirely; he believed that.

“How are you? he asked, voice small and looking down. 

“I’m…good,” you replied, looking away. “You?”

“Busy,” he replied. The air felt heavy and his palms were sweating. “I’m…I’m sorry for not being there when I promised you that I would,”

“Why weren’t you there, Carm?” you asked and he could hear the sadness in your voice. He knew that your exhibit meant a lot to you. “You…you told me you will and well, you were…the-the person I want to be there the most.”

“I didn’t know that. I’m- I’m sorry,” he shrugged. “But why? I mean, I-I don’t know art. I like my shit but I-I’m not cool or understand—“

“Because I like you, Carmy.” you told him, looking at him now and trying to go nearer. He stepped back and you stopped your tracks.

“You—what?” he asked, shaking his head furiously; like your confession offended him. “You…like me.”

“I do,” you nodded. “But…it doesn’t matter.”

“Fuck. How many times do we have to go back to this very same place for you to understand?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. He told you before that he didn’t want to date. You told him you understood. You told him he was being egotistic when he told you not to get attached. He wanted to leave. He didn’t expect this to happen—he didn’t want this to happen. “I don’t—I don’t—“

“Carmy,” you cautioned him, trying to ease your beating heart. “Can you listen to me? I-I-I like you, okay and I’ve been thinking about it too. I’m—you’re always staying behind after sex and well, I just maybe thought that you liked me too.” You replied, swallowing his rejection for now.

“I don’t,” he snaps, tone sharp. “We’ll both be miserable in a relationship. I’ll never make-make you happy. You’re right, you know? I’m unreliable and-and-and issues that I need to fix…and I’m not the one you’re looking for,”

“I’m sorry for saying that. It wasn’t my place to do so,” was your meek reply. How does he feel so far away when he feels so, so, so close?

“No, uh,” Carmen blinks, shaking his head. “It’s fine. I-I-I needed to hear those things, you know? I’m sorry too…for everything.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s it then?” he asked. He was distressed. How could he fuck this up after telling Sydney that he didn’t want to fuck things up with you? “I…I had fun,” You were the only one who kept me afloat when everything else turned to shit. I missed you when we stopped talking. I should have fought harder. What else could I have done?

“Fun,” you chuckled bitterly. “Fun…that’s the only thing you’re going to say to me?”

Carmy frowned. 

“What else did you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, Carmy!” you exclaimed, pacing back and forth but never towards him. “God! Tell me that I’m important to you. Tell me that I’ll still be your friend…tell me that you—that you—that I mean more than a fuck!”

Silence. Carmy couldn’t find the words to tell you what you truly meant to him…that he wanted what you wanted too but he was too scared to fuck it all up again like he did with Claire.

You nodded, looking away. You breathed in deeply, as if trying to relieve yourself of the hurt. That’s all you’ve ever meant to him. 

“You lead me along and it’s fine. I know that it’s my fault for wanting other things but at least…at least tell me that I’ll still be your friend; that I still matter to you even if I dug myself a hole by feeling things. Tell me that you still need me to put everything on hold for you because I’ve been waiting you to call me all day…”

“I don’t want you to do that. I don’t want you putting your life on hold for me,” he rasps. “I don’t…”

“But what if I wanted to?” you asked, face slightly contorted because you didn’t want to be so vulnerable in front of him. Not when he hasn’t told you what you wanted yet. Carmy was just looking at you, tapping his foot on the floor. It was a nervous habit that he developed. Fuck, he needed a cigarette.

“Can you, uh, leave?” you asked, voice low. “I…” 

“No, no, no,” he begs, rushing towards you. He grabs a hold of your elbows to remind you that he was there. Would it mean anything? Would his touch convey all of the words he wanted to say? 

“Carm…” your voice breaks. “Carm…”

“No, no. You’re not just that to me,” he reassures “But you have to understand that-that I can’t love you like that.”

“Carmen, please…” you beg, tears brimming in your eyes. “Please…just, just leave,”

You’ve never asked him to leave before but it seemed like it was what you really wanted—like it was what you really needed. He nods, kissing your head softly before detaching himself from you. 

“I’m sorry,” Carmy said. “For-for not saying the right, uh, things.”

“Yeah,” you nod, hiding yourself from him. He hated that you had to do that when you’ve cried on his shoulders multiple times. He never liked seeing you cry; he just didn’t know that one day, he’ll be on the receiving end of your sadness. He watches you rub your forehead, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying. If you started crying, would he stay?

-

It’s been months since Carmy left. He’s been in his best form in the kitchen. He was making things easier for his staff; he was working twenty four hours a day. Going to The Bear early to help with prep; staying late to help them clean after a long shift of cooking and cooking and kitchen tours. He’s been getting acclaim—more acclaim, really. There was a waiting list on his restaurant and positive reviews from left and right flooded in. The Bear was dubbed as “The Restaurant of the Year” in Chicago despite being less than a year old. 

He’s been doing good—perfect. 

It was like he was a hamster in a fucking wheel with no other way to escape. He likes putting himself in gear, like driving fast because it makes him believe that nothing really hurts him. He didn’t like being at home; it reminded him too much of you. It reminded him of when you’d lean on the kitchen counter, a small smile on your lips while you watched him cook you something. He didn’t like sitting on the couch because it reminded him of when he slept with his head on your lap. He didn’t like it in his bedroom because he’s reminded of that night when you pulled him closer in your sleep. He didn’t like The Bear because the painting that you gave him hung so proudly by the dining area. It was marvellous—they said. How was he able to get a painting that you did when your art was so valuable and in demand? 

He was moving so fast so you wouldn’t cross his mind but it seemed like no matter what he did, he'd end up thinking about you anyway. 

It didn’t matter, how come a fall like that made him feel like flying? Maybe he’s waiting for it to hit him but he was feeling alright. 

He was alright. 

“Chef!” Sydney called, looking at Carmen who was chopping the vegetables like a madman. “Carmen!”

“Fuck, what, Sydney?!” he asked, slamming his knife on the counter. 

“You’re bleeding,” Marcus told him and Carmen looked down, blood was all over the chopping board. “You’ve been bleeding for a few seconds now…we’ve all been calling your name, Chef.” 

“Fuck, I-I-I’m…” Carmen was a blubbering mess, just watching his hand bleed like it didn’t matter. “I’m-I’m,”

“Take a break, Carm,” Sydney says but her partner just shakes his head. “Carm—“

“Sydney, don’t—don’t make me take a fucking break, please.”

“You’ll need to clean up and make sure there’s no more blood,” Sydney told him. “I’m not fucking around,”

“Yeah,” he nods, putting his fist over his heart and drawing circles. Sydney nods and Carmy fixes his station. 

He couldn’t stop shaking, though. Even Tina saw how his hand trembled. What the fuck?

“Carmen,” 

“Yeah…just…just give me a second, please.” he nods, picking his knife again and doing everything perfectly. Like clockwork. He’s back. He’s back. He’s fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m alright. 

PART 2

AN: Thank you for the love! This is going to be a two-part fic because I love how everything is right now… Don’t forget to comment / reblog if you like it! I read every single little thing you guys type…even the hashtags.

TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt @morgthemagpie @hal3ynicol3 @1800-queen-trash

[marauder-misprint]

okay i love your sirius and would like to request a sirius x reader bc they are sooo good

i have this idea where sirius asks reader to marry him after finishing school and she accepts of course, but then with the war a wedding is a bit hard so they end up eloping without telling anyone. and then like months later at like an order meeting james jokes sirius mate ur trying to be engaged forever/ when are u gonna actually marry ur girl and they are just like we are married. and maybe remus and lily worked out ages ago from the ring. and then james is devo he wasn’t invited lol

but i will read literally anything u write so feel free to to whatever 🫶🫶

There is no war in Ba Sing Se.

Except in this request.

Let's get married

Sirius Black x fem!reader

1.3k words

cw: mention of death/war, fluff

You had been out of school for maybe a month. Sirius was already insisting on a visit back to Hogsmeade. 

“They sell butterbeer elsewhere and we can always order honeydukes.”

“It’s not that same as being there,” he claims. 

And when you got there, you had to agree. The small village was simply magical and it was somehow better without having to return to the castle looming in the future. Then Sirius drags you out toward the Shrieking Shack and then into the forest. You’re a little confused until you come upon a clearing with a small pond. You smile as memories flood you.

“Sirius, what are we doing here?”

“You know where we are?”

You laugh. How couldn’t you? This was where you shared your first kiss with Sirius. You slowly turn around in a circle; the clearing was as beautiful as ever. When you turn back to Sirius, he’s down on one knee and you stare at him with wide eyes. Your heart pounding in your chest. Was this happening?

“Angel, I’ve known since our first time here that you were the one. It’s cheesy. I know. But it’s true. I used to laugh when people said when you know, you know. But damn, I knew. You’re the only person I can see myself with. I love you more than life itself. More than myself. I’ll live for you. I’ll die for you. I’d kill for you. I’d spend a thousand lifetimes in Azkaban if it meant I got to have you as my wife in this one. So, will you do-“

“Yes, Sirius. Yes!”

You pull him up and kiss him, not even looking at the ring he had pulled out of his pocket. 

When you pull back, he laughs, “Didn’t even let me finish my question.”

“You can finish later,” you say a wink. 

“You cheeky minx.”

“Ah but you love me.”

“That I do,” he gives you a kiss. “That I do very much.”

---

It didn’t take long for news of your engagement to spread to your friends. Most of them had been expecting it, either based on your relationship alone or because Sirius had confided in them. Because of the war, you didn’t risk having a big engagement party. Instead, you met up with your friends in small groups. A sprinkling of little gatherings in more intimate settings. As much as you would’ve loved a large celebration, you would save that risk for the actual wedding. 

Planning for the wedding was difficult. Sirius returned from a mission to find you sobbing on the couch, a letter in your hand and a notebook on the coffee table. He rushes over and knees in front of you.

“Angel, what’s wrong? What happened?”

You shove the letter into his hands, just shaking your head. A girl you had gone to school with was dead. She was muggleborn. Her whole family was found dead. Even worse, you had planned on inviting her to the wedding. You feel yourself shaking as Sirius quickly reads the letter. Then he moves onto the couch to hold you. 

“I can’t do it. I can’t plan this wedding,” you murmur through tears and sniffles. “How can I make a list of who to invite? Plan a seating chart? How can I do that when people keep dying?”

Sirius is quiet for a moment. His arms tighten around you.

“You have a white dress, yeah?”

You look up at Sirius, confused. “I mean, yes. I have that sundress you love.”

“That’s perfect,” he says, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “Let’s elope. Let’s just get married.”

“What?”

“You’ll wear that dress, I’ll wear a suit. No invites. No seating chart. Just you, me, a judge and the rings.”

“Just you and me.”

“Yeah. Let’s get married.”

You nod and lean more into his chest. “Friday?”

He smiles down at you before peppering the top of your head with more kisses. “Friday.”

And that’s how it was. It was a quick ceremony, but it was enough. Then you spent the night in your flat, just the two of you. Part of it felt like before but Sirius started calling you Mrs. Black when you were alone. You didn’t tell anyone. Being married to Sirius, being a Black by marriage put a larger target on your back, more than fighting for the Order did by itself.  

As time passed and the war raged on, more people died. You were glad you eloped, although now your fear of losing Sirius to the war was even more heightened. This was more than your school boyfriend or your fiance. This was your husband and you were not ready to be a widow so young. 

---

After a few months, the war was still raging on and it felt like Voldemort kept gaining more followers with each passing day. Auror Moody called an emergency meeting to discuss new tactics and leads. Some additional missions were assigned, but none to your closest friends. The group decided to go out for drinks after, something to ease the tension.

“To the greatest mission of all,” Sirius says, raising his glass, “staying alive!”

“Hear, hear!” Remus says, following suit, and the rest of the table did the same. 

The atmosphere is upbeat for the grim circumstances. But there’s something about being surrounded by your closest friends with alcohol flowing through your veins that makes life a bit more tolerable. And your husband had an arm around you. You could never get tired of thinking of Sirius as your husband. It still felt surreal. It was a perfect feeling. 

James let out a wolf whistle when you kiss Sirius’ cheek.

“Padfoot, when are you going to marry this girl?” James asks.

“Yeah, do you guys have a date picked out?” Marlene asks. “Haven’t received a save-the-date or an invite yet.”

You laugh and give Sirius a questioning look. You would let him decide when it was time to tell people. 

“Sirius?” you ask, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“About that…” Sirius is smiling down at you with that knowing look he has. “We’re already married.”

The table gasps as a whole before silence falls over everyone. You hold out your hand to show the added wedding band; Sirius flashes his hand as well with his own ring.

“What do you mean that you’re already married?” James bellows. “I was supposed to be your best man!”

Sirius shrugs, looking away from you to his best friend.

“It didn’t feel right, mate,” Sirius says. “Given the war and everything.”

“But I was supposed to be there!”

“A lot of people were supposed to be there,” Lily points out. 

“I thought I was your best friend!”

“Prongs, you are. And if we had a full wedding, you would’ve been my best man, no doubt.”

“Does it help if it was semi-spur of the moment?” you offer, giving Sirius pitiful look as James babbles on. 

“No! I should’ve been there! Padfoot!” James whines.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Lily asks, placing a calming hand on James’ shoulder. “I thought your ring looked… shinier.”

“Felt like something we needed to keep under wraps for a bit,” you say. 

“Not like my family name would add protection. Remove it, really,” Sirius says.

“But that means official congratulations are in order!” Remus announces, waving to the bartender. “Another round to celebrate the newly Mr. and Mrs. Black!”

“But I should have been there!” James continues to whine, although he has a wide smile on his face. He could be sad he wasn’t there all while being happy for his friend.Everyone is laughing and smiling now. Part of you feesl bad for laughing. James had a point. Of the people who should’ve been there, he was one of them. Everyone at this small table sharing beers should’ve been there. Your parents should’ve been there. Regulus should’ve been there. But there was a war. So it was what it was and you were making the best of it. And laughing about James being flabbergasted that Sirius had the audacity to marry you without him was better than crying about everyone who couldn’t be there.

[harrywavycurly]

Worth the Fight Extra: The Rundown

Masterlist: here

CW: Language, mentions of Harry’s asshole behavior

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496 @laughterismytherapy @hisparentsgallerryy @jerseygirlinca @behindmygreyeyes @mads3502 @tpwkdpr @unfuckwitablenarry @itscoucouharry @latedirectionerera

A/N: I thought this would be interesting to see how Niall handles hearing just how his bestfriend treated you in the beginning of your pregnancy, enjoy✨

Summary: Harry tells Niall everything and Niall has to fight the urge to kick Harry’s ass✨

“Wait you left her where?” Harry lets out a sigh as he looks at his hands in his lap instead of the slightly irritated Irishman standing in front of where he’s sitting on his couch in his living room. Niall places a hand on his hip as he cocks an eyebrow at his bestfriend who has a look of pure guilt and regret on his face. “Tell me where you left her because I must’ve not heard you properly the first time.” Harry wants to roll his eyes because he knows Niall heard him just fine.

“I left her at the doctor’s office after we found out she was having twins.” The calm and collected tone of his voice almost makes Niall want to walk over and smack him but he doesn’t, he just rubs his lips together and nods.

“Keep going.” At Niall’s harsh tone Harry chances a quick glance at his friend who is now running a hand through his hair as he glares at Harry. “Don’t pause too much or it’ll give me time to punch you in that pretty face of yours so keep fucking going.” With that Harry just swallows his emotions as he thinks back to the events that happened next and continues on with his story.

“So uh I left and then a few hours later I realized how big of a mistake that was so I went to her apartment and she wasn’t home so I sat there and waited for her.” Niall just nods and motions for Harry to keep going while he begins to slowly pace the length of Harry’s living room. “Uhm and she didn’t let me in and called me an asshole so-”

“Good for her.”

“Anyway that’s uhm when she decided we shouldn’t speak until I found out the twins were actually mine and I thought it was a good idea because maybe that would give me time to get my shit together and figure out why I’m being such an asshole so I uh well that’s when I called my mom.”

“And had that breakdown with the crying and stuff?”

“It wasn’t a breakdown you twat it was just an emotional phone call I mean you try to tell your mom you’re going to have twins with someone who just kicked you out of her apartment after telling you that you ruined an extremely important day for her without a few tears.”

“Anne told me you cried for over an hour and told her you needed her to come help you so yeah Harry you fuckin’ jackass it was a breakdown.”

“Whatever so a day or two after my breakdown to my mom I texted her.” Niall stops his pacing and turns to look at Harry with a raised brow.

“Before you had the results?”

“Uhm pos-possibly. Yes.”

“So you said fuck her boundaries and the one set of rules she gave you and texted her before you were supposed to? God Harry you really are such a narcissist.”

“Like I was saying.” Niall just glares at his bestfriend as he looks down at his lap and lets out a deep sigh because he’s getting close to the part of the story that he knows is going to send Niall into a full on rage. “I texted her and she stuck to her rules and didn’t engage in a real conversation with me but she did finally tell me she worked at the library so on Friday when I was allowed to speak to her because I got the results and of course the twins are mine.” A small smile crosses Harry’s face as he mentions finding out the twins were his and Niall finds himself feeling glad that out of all of this at least Harry is happy about being a dad.

“I went to her work-or well technically I went to her apartment and that’s when I met Ethan her overly fucking friendly neighbor who told me she was at work but I didn’t know where she worked I just knew it was a library so uhm I had to make a few calls-”

“Make a few calls? What you have connections in the library system now Mr. Big Shot?”

“No you wank I had to actually call several libraries looking for the one she worked at.”

“How many?”

“Uhm twelve.” Harry’s cheeks get warm as he remembers calling around looking for you as if it was the most important thing in the world to him, to see you and be able to talk to you. But of course it didn’t go the way he planned but it also wasn’t the worst conversation the two of you have had, the bickering was just normal teasing and no one left in tears.

“Jesus you called twelve libraries looking for her and you still don’t think you have any feelings for her? That’s not normal you know that right? Most people would give up after the third one and just call her instead.” Niall explains making Harry just roll his eyes as he looks up and send Niall a glare.

“She’s the mother of my children Niall so I think calling around looking for her work is completely normal. When I finally found where she worked I went there to see her and she was a little upset or maybe just shocked I’m not sure but then I think uh I think it went well actually? We didn’t fight like we normally do we bickered and stuff but it felt-felt normal? She gave me a picture from the ultrasound that I uhm left in the middle of and I tried to say sorry but she wasn’t in the mood to hear it and I told her about how my mom wanted to have her for lunch and that made her a little upset but she agreed.” Harry messes with the rings on his fingers as he talks, needing a slight distraction so he doesn’t get too caught up in thinking about how the way you looked at your desk surrounded by books made his heart practically melt because you looked as if that’s where you belonged, surrounded by pages filled with romance and adventure and all the things he imagines you want out of life.

“And then the next time you spoke was at Anne’s?” Niall asks and Harry just nods and lets out a deep sigh before he runs a hand through his hair. “Well come on then tell me what you said because I know that didn’t end very well.”

“Part of that is your fault-”

“I beg your fuckin’ pardon? My fault?”

“Oh come off it Niall you saw her go all wide eyed and star struck when she met you.” Harry snaps and Niall can’t help but laugh as he shakes his head is disbelief at what he’s hearing.

“I’m honestly flattered that seeing her get star stuck over me made you get good and proper jealous” Niall teases making Harry just let out a scoff at the idea he was ever jealous of Niall even though he knows he was, he didn’t like how you got all smiley and blushy over him at all.

“I wasn’t jealous I was just annoyed that she got all-all drooly over you right in front of me but her and my mom got on well uhm I let them have a moment while I just stayed inside and then uh I made her some of her disgusting tea that she doesn’t even like by the way. She just drinks it because it helps her nausea but she doesn’t like peppermint tea that’s why she adds all the honey.” Harry lets out an annoyed laugh as he mentions your tea of choice for dealing with your nausea.

“That’s when things took a turn and it’s all because she just asked me about how I felt about announcing the pregnancy to the world and-and I just lost it? I went on a rant about not wanting people to know her and I arent dating and she was just a one night stand and that I just never saw myself having kids with someone I wasn’t in love with-”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. I told her I never imagined being a dad with someone I just got too drunk with. And she uhm she left.”

“Crying?”

“Yes Niall she left crying.” Harry looks down at his lap as the memory of that afternoon plays in his mind, the way he didn’t even notice you had left the table because he was so caught up in his emotions and the way his mom looked at him before she got up to go after you. “And then I waited almost two weeks before seeing her again.”

“That’s the day you called me right? When we went to the pub?” Niall asks as he takes a seat in the loveseat next to Harry’s couch.

“Yes and that’s the day I saw her and Ethan in a shop near her work looking at baby things-things for my kids Niall he was helping her look for things to buy the kids she’s having with me.” Niall watches Harry struggle to get control of his emotions as he suddenly stands up and begins pacing the length of the couch with a hand on his hip and the other roughly tugging at the roots of his hair.

“Do you know how that feels? Standing outside a window watching someone else help the mother of your children buy outfits for them and look so happy while doing it? She was smiling and laughing and he was holding her bag and-and he kissed the top of her head as if it was the most normal thing to do like he’s done it hundreds of times and they looked-looked happy.” He lets out a heavy sigh as he pauses and looks down at his feet, Niall hears him sniffle and sees him rub at his nose with the knuckle of his index finger and while he wants to help and comfort him Niall knows he’s not done with his story just yet.

“She looked so happy.” He whispers before he clears his throat so he can continue. “I went to her apartment that night after we went to the pub and I apologized to her and she opened the door-I didn’t expect her to do that but she did and Paris-”

“Her cat that hates you? That’s his name right?”

“Yes that’s Paris he uh-he bit me and then Ethan showed up but before that I told her how I’m in this. I’m ready to be a part of this because I know she doesn’t need me but uhm-uh I need her because I need them. You know? I need my twins. I need to be their dad.” Niall nods as Harry begins pacing again as the words flow out of his mouth.

“I mean that doesn’t sound bad? Minus the whole showin’ up to her place drunk. It doesn’t sound like it ended horribly?”

“It went bad when Ethan showed up because he said I only get drunk with you because I was jealous and then he made a comment about how he’s been there for her while I’ve been an asshole and he’s the one who picked her up from my mom’s house after lunch went totally wrong. And I left when he made it seem like they’re kinda more-more than just friendly neighbors and I didn’t let her explain herself I just left.”

“I’m sure they aren’t doin anything he probably said that to make you mad because he’s tired of you pissin’ off his friend.”

“I don’t know Niall you didn’t see them in that store they looked like they belong together. But it doesn’t matter because she’s not mine so she’s allowed to date whoever she wants. Ethan included.”

“Harry let’s just cut the bullshit here okay? Do you want to be in her life just as her baby daddy or do you want to be more than that?” Harry lets out a groan as he runs a hand over his face.

“At this point I just don’t want her to hate me.”

“She doesn’t hate you. She told you that today didn’t she? That she’s not angry at you she just doesn’t trust you.”

“And whats a relationship or even a friendship without trust Niall? I don’t-I don’t know what to do.” Harry’s frustration is clear by the way his hands fall to his hips as he closes his eyes and looks up towards his ceiling.

“You have to rebuild the trust. Just keep your word when you say you’re going to do something or be somewhere and help her see that you’re serious about wanting to be apart of this whole thing.” Niall advises as he stands up and takes a few steps towards Harry so he can place a hand on his shoulder making Harry open his eyes and look at his bestfriend who is offering him a small but reassuring smile.

“And for the love of god man stop just showin’ up at her work or her house. You’re gonna get a restraining order placed on you before she’s even half way through the pregnancy.” Harry lets out a quiet chuckle as Niall gives his shoulder a little squeeze before letting it go.

“Yeah that was another rule she put in place. M’not allowed to show up places just because I want to talk or see her when it’s clear she doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Gotta respect her boundaries. They may upset you but they aren’t for you they are for her so if she says stand in the hallway for the rest of your life then that’s what you’re gonna do. Understand?”

“Yes. I understand.”

“Good because honestly I’m still debating if I wanna kick your ass or not so if I hear one more thing you’ve gone and done to make that girl upset while she’s doin all the hard work of carrying your babies-I really might punch you in the fuckin’ face.” Harry just rolls his eyes as Niall heads to go take a seat on the couch.

“Noted.” Niall nods as Harry goes and sits in the loveseat, feeling a little bit lighter now that he’s told Niall everything because if anyone is going to help Harry get to a place of possible friendship with you it’s going to be his bestfriend who isn’t afraid to call him an asshole or smack him upside the head when necessary.

[tiredfox64]

Too Late? You’re Still Young!

Prior notes: DILFS! I LOVE THEM! I LITERALLY HAVE A I ❤️ DILFS SHIRT! YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE I LOVE? CONSENT! WE 👏 LOVE 👏 CONSENT👏!

Pairing: Johnny Cage (MK11) x Virgin! Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: NSFW, fingering, praising, nipple play, safe sex is sweeter, mating press, aftercare (is freaking important)

So you spent all of high school and all of college with you virginity in tact. Impressive, but it wasn’t your choice. With a sheltered home life like yours you struggled to understand the dating scene. You were too afraid to have a boyfriend since you worried you would get in trouble with your family. You never had the talk before but your hormones were a big indicator that you were missing some important information about your body. You somewhat found the solution when you placed a pillow between your legs and it felt incredible good to you.

Through Sex Ed class and word around school you figured out what you were in need of. But to get it seemed so difficult. At least now you knew your fingers were a good option.

That frustration grew in you and you couldn’t voice it out. Even telling it to your best friend Cassie felt wrong. You’re almost graduating and you still have your v card! You can’t do this anymore. Maybe it’s time to ask Cassie for advice. Even if she can’t help you maybe one of her friends can. Two of them are engaged to each other you doubt they are waiting till after marriage. Heaven knows you can’t.

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You went over to Johnny’s mansion since you remembered Cassie was staying with him for a bit. You knocked on the door and waited patiently with an anxious look on your face. It was Johnny who opened the door.

“Hey! I haven’t seen you in a while,” He paused for a second, “Woah, what’s up with that face?”

“Hi, Mr. Cage. Is Cassie here right now?” You asked sheepishly.

“Nope, sorry. She just went out with Jacqui. But you should still come in. I’ll get you something to drink.” He invited you in.

You went inside, taking your shoes off at the entrance like a decent human being. You followed Johnny into the kitchen where you sat at the island. He gave you a glass of water which you thanked him for before he started talking.

“So what’s going on? You don’t seem to happy. Let me guess, a professor gave you a bad grade.”

He knows you too well. That could be true but not at this moment. You did smile though which is the reaction he wanted.

“No actually, it’s more of a…body issue.” You tried your best to explain it without saying it out loud.

“Ah, shark week I’m guessing? That’s why you need Cassie.”

“No! No! It’s another kind of issue that I have a hard time saying.” Your voice grew quieter the more you spoke.

Johnny stayed patient. He waited to see if you would say it yourself. You were being vague so he really didn’t understand what was going on. You sighed before continuing.

“The thing is I’m still a virgin. It’s really embarrassing. I feel so frustrated knowing that my body needs something but I either don’t know what it is or I can’t get it.” Now he understands.

He stayed silent for a bit as he thinks about what you said. He would say it’s no big deal but he’s a man with a high body count so he shouldn’t be talking. Still, he doesn’t want you feeling bad about it.

“Cassie did tell me you were a bit sheltered. But I don’t see why it’s a problem. You’re a nice and intelligent girl and I would hate for some dick to take your virginity as if it was nothing.”

“Everybody says that to me! I know what I am and I understand I need a good man to do it with. But how will I know what is considered a good man if no one tells me.” You were really expressing your frustration.

You had a point and Johnny could see that. You were at risk of being misguided. Everyone is at risk of that no matter what but you had a disadvantage. He had an idea that might work out but it seemed so stupid. Hormonal stupid. He’s been deprived for a while now and getting the chance to have some fun is really tempting right now. But he doesn’t want to take advantage of your situation. It won’t hurt to ask.

“Alright listen, how about you and me…do it. I’ll show you how it goes and what a man should be doing to you. It’s up to you. I won’t force you to do anything.” He said calmly.

You froze up and your cheeks started to feel warm. You were surprised he would suggest something like that even though you knew of his flirting habits. Was it a good idea however? He is your friend’s dad and he is way older than you. You can’t deny though that he is still good looking for his age. Older does mean more experience, right? He’s been so nice to you too so you can trust that he’s a good man. Screw it, he’s the best option!

“You wouldn’t mind doing that? I mean I do feel comfortable with you, especially since I don’t have any guy friends.”

“Of course, but only this one time. Promise me you won’t tell Cassie, right? I get it she’s your best friend and best friends tell each other everything and whatnot. But she is still my daughter and I doubt she will be happy that I banged one of her best friends.”

“I promise. She will never find out.” Better make sure of that.

He nodded before taking your hand and guiding you up the stairs. It was exciting yet nerve racking. Johnny could sensed that and squeezed your hand to tell you it’s gonna be alright. He’s gonna take good care of you.

You two walked into his bedroom. His bed was large and comfortable which helped settle your nerves. He brought you over to the bed and had you sit next to him. He may be an expert in this but he has never really dealt with a girl who was so nervous before. He better take this real slow and talk you through it.

“Alright, first things first, a man should never go right into it. Foreplay is very important. It will help make the experience better for you and prevent you from getting hurt down there.” He instructed.

You had no idea what foreplay was but you trusted Johnny enough to not asking him about it. You were right to do so since all he did at first was kiss your neck. Already that was a lot for you. Each kiss felt like a little tingle that shot down between your legs.

Johnny’s hand was slowly tracing down your body till he got to the waistband of your pants. Your breathing hitched which alerted him you were getting nervous again.

“Shh, it’s okay. Remember I’m taking it slow. I won’t hurt you.” He whispered against your neck.

You relaxed a little as his hand slipped under. His fingers lightly touched your clit and you whimpered immediately. It felt way different than when you would do it to yourself. This is way better, probably cause you are receiving it from someone else. Johnny wanted to see how you were a little more down and was surprised at how wet you already were. He could easily slip his fingers in if he wanted to.

“Damn, you’re really wet. I’ve never had a girl get this excited so quickly.” He commented.

You were embarrassed by that. Barely touched and you are soaking wet down there. You turned your head away from Johnny to prevent any further embarrassment. He just chuckled lightly at your reaction.

“It’s not a bad thing. It makes it easier. You’re doing good.”

One of his fingers slipped into your pussy with ease. You gasped in surprise and pleasure. You never fingered yourself since you never felt anything from it. But you sure felt it now. That one finger slowly pumped inside you as his thumb rubbed your clit. You were keeping yourself together which was good. Johnny felt like you could take a little more.

“You think you can take another one?”

You nodded your head confidently. You wanted more anyways. Your body was in need of it. Now having both his ring and middle finger in you was like heaven. He went a little faster while his thumb kept rubbing your clit.

Your whimpers to turned to quiet, breathy moans. Now it felt too good. Without thinking you were trying to close your legs. You don’t know why you do it you just know you don’t want to make it hard for Johnny.

“Gotta keep your legs open for me. I promise it will be better for you if you do.”

You listened and tried your best to keep your legs open, spreading them wider than before. That should do it.

“That’s it, good girl.” He whispered.

Immediately you had a reaction. Your heart did flips and you felt warmth in your stomach. Johnny caught on when he felt your pussy clench against his fingers. Not surprising considering you always did seem excited by praise no matter what. He’ll keep that in mind when he fucks you in just a moment.

Your body grew hotter the longer this went on. It didn’t help that Johnny was so close to you. So close that his other hand went to the small of your back to support you. You didn’t know what to do with your hands so you were left clenching the bed sheets. Suddenly he asked you a very important question.

“Wait, now that I’m thinking about it, have you even had your first kiss?”

Nope, you didn’t even get that. You nodded no.

“Well I must look like a jerk. What kind of man am I,” He said comedically, “Let me help you with that as well.”

This must be some sort of dream. A dirty one at best. A dream where you are kissing your best friend’s hot dad as he fingers you. Even if you weren’t the best at kissing, Johnny was making it work. Thank goodness your lips were soft cause you’d be embarrassed if they weren’t.

This was all enough to send you over the edge. It really didn’t take much effort since you were so deprived. Your eyes were shut tight as you felt pleasure pulse through your body. You were moan against Johnny’s lips. He felt your pussy clench his fingers which was enough evidence to show he just made you cum. Damn, in three minutes? That’s a new record. To him that was impressive and boosted his already high ego. You were embarrassed, thinking that cumming too early was a bad thing. It’s only bad when it’s guys, you’re fine.

“I’m sorry. I thought I would last longer.” You apologized.

“There’s no need to apologize. It just means we can get to the really fun part now. Take your clothes and get comfortable on the bed.” He instructed.

Johnny gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before slipping his hand out from your pants. He wanted to make sure you were still comfortable. There was no need to feel embarrassed around him. The important thing is if you’re comfortable and still okay with this.

You took your time when taking your clothes off. Obviously you never stripped down in front of a man. Even when you would go to the pool you were nervous to take your shirt off. This was a big leap but you felt like you could do this. Deep breathes and take your time.

While you did that, Johnny went over to his bedside table to grab a condom. You could see how prepared this man is when you saw the long line of condoms he had. It’s been a while for him, they’re still good.

When you took all your clothes off you were quick to get on the bed and cover yourself with the blankets. He doesn’t mind he understands. He started to strip his clothes off and oh…wow.

You don’t care what anybody says he is like fine wine. He looks like he’s still in his prime. You couldn’t deny you felt yourself get wetter and you pressed your thighs together to alleviate the pressure down there. Then he took his pants off. Girl, you’re in trouble but a good kind of trouble.

You’re not mathematician or scientist but you can definitely say he was bigger than average. Was it supposed to be that thick? He saw how wide your eyes were and decided to tilt your head up so you could look at him instead.

“You should probably keep your eyes on me for now. Might scare you if you look down there for too long.” He’s not wrong but he sounds arrogant saying that.

He got on the bed and slowly pulled the blankets off you. You were still being shy which is fine. There is no need to rush into this he will make sure you are comfortable with going ahead. Plus, he’s gotta comment on those tits.

“You have a nice pair on you. Do you mind?” He was asking for your permission to play with them.

You nodded and he went in slowly. You felt his hands cup your breasts gently. His thumb rubbed against your soft skin. You were surprised by how calming it felt. Sure you were even more turned on but you also felt less nervous. Johnny came in closer and started to leave kisses all over them. At first it was gentle but then he decided he wanted to leave hickeys on them. Nothing too big but they were the perfect spot since no one will see them. It was definitely a new feeling but when you saw the marks he left on you, you knew you liked it.

You know what else you liked? When his tongue ran over your nipple. It surprised you but you soon relaxed again to the feeling. He sucked on your nipple gently, not wanting to overstimulate you just yet. His other hand went to pinch your other nipple which excited you more. Once again it was another situation where it felt better when someone else did it instead of you. With all this combined you started to grow needy. There was no sense of embarrassment or nervousness anymore, only this need to be fucked. You started to whine which let Johnny know you were ready.

“Alright, alright, I get you. Just give me a second, babe.”

It didn’t take long for Johnny to put the condom on, what a manwhore. He angled himself before holding your hand. It was for support.

“Just tell me if you need me to stop, okay?”

Then he started to push into your wet pussy. The feeling of being stretched out for the first time was deliciously painful. It’s not what you expected. You expected to be screaming and for a bunch of blood to come out. Nope, not at all. Inch by inch he slowly pushed himself inside of you till he was fully in. He didn’t start thrusting immediately since he knew you had to adjust.

“You okay?” He asked.

“I’m more than okay.”

“That’s good. You’re doing so good. So good for me.” Johnny started to give you kisses on your face which you appreciated.

After a few moments he started slowly thrusting into you. Your hand squeezed his but you never told him to stop. The pain slowly turned into pleasure. Finally, the pleasure of being fucked. Each thrust was another wave of pleasure through you. It was confusing at first, like your mind couldn’t comprehend something this good. Your body could.

Johnny started picking up the pace when no sign of pain was present in your face. You stopped having control over your moans. You weren’t being loud like a porn star. It was more like you couldn’t fake it even if you tried.

Damn, that’s what I sound like?

He didn’t want to push it too far but he was so tempted to pound into you. It’s been so long and you honestly felt amazing. He loved looking down at you and watching your breasts jiggle every time he thrusted in. You squeezed so nicely around his cock. He was trying to hold himself back from getting rough and you could see that. You wouldn’t push your lucky but your body says otherwise. Hormones are crazy like that, they will yell at you to do anything to get the pleasure you need. Your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his waist. You looked into his eyes and you said something that seemed so out of character for you but was what you truly wanted.

“Please go harder.” You begged.

“Fuck, are you sure?” Trust me, Johnny wanted to but he was still worried about hurting you.

You whined and wrapped your legs even tighter around his waist which let him know you weren’t playing.

“Alright, I get it. Never would have expected you to be so needy.” He teased.

He’ll do you one better. How about a new position? Nothing crazy but you will like it. He grabbed your thighs and pushed your legs back before putting you into a mating press. And you thought he was already deep enough. Good thing you are surprisingly flexible.

You really do need to keep your legs open more. It felt amazing to you when Johnny started pounding into your pussy. This position made it easier to hit that sweet spot inside you which you didn’t even know about.

You could hear a wet, squishing sound coming from down there every time he pulled in and out. Not only that but there was also the sound of skin slapping every time he rammed into you. It turned you on even more. You know why? Cause that’s the sound of being fucked, honey!

Johnny had a nice view in front of him. Listening to you moan for him as he continues to fuck you. You make him feel young again. He still has it in him. The energy to have fun with a girl and make her moan. Fuck, he is so glad he is doing this now.

You would be thinking the same but all you could focus on was how big he was and how all of that was slamming into you. At this point why hide any of your moans. No one is around and this is your first time. You should have as much freedom as you want. Get the full experience. You were keeping your eyes closed out of embarrassment but that won’t last for long.

“Come on, open those pretty eyes for me. Can you do that just for me, gorgeous?” Johnny whispered to you.

When he says it like that how can you deny. You slowly opened your eyes to look up at him. Sure you were still embarrassed but you realize that it was just hotter this way. The connecting that the eyes make. You’ve never seen a man look at you in such a way. A look that makes you feel desirable. There might even be some affection behind it. Because Johnny does care for you. Even if this is a one time thing he wants you to have the best experience and walk away with no regrets. It’s working for you.

It was all so much. The sounds, the feelings, the connection, the intimacy is all getting to you. Your nails started scraping against his back lightly. Your toes curled and your legs shook a little. Your eyes almost rolled back and your moans grew louder. You were about to cum and Johnny could see that.

“You’re gonna cum? You wanna cum, pretty girl? Go ahead. Just keep looking at me.” He commanded.

You kept looking at Johnny as he slammed into your sweet spot again. This orgasm was better than the last one. It felt like a heat radiated through your body. All your worries came undone just like you. Like a knot just unraveling in your stomach. You looked at Johnny with half-lidded eyes as you let out breathy moans. Damn, he could have came right there on the spot but he was holding himself together.

“Bet that felt good, didn’t it.” He teased before leaving some kisses on your face.

You knew Johnny would feel like a king after making you cum twice. He’s cocky like that. Ah, but you forgot. He hasn’t cum yet.

“You think you can go a little longer for me, baby? Just a little longer.” He asked to keep going so he can cum.

He didn’t wanna overstimulate you during your first time but it’s your call. You’re a trooper, you can go a little longer even though you are incredibly sensitive down there now. You nodded which made him smile.

He stopped pressing down on you which was a relief for your legs. He still kept them open. He started thrusting into you again, not as rough as when he had you in a mating press but it still felt great. He watched as his cock went in and out of your pussy. Your wetness coated the condom and it still made a wet sound. Oh how he wished he could just take it off and fuck you raw. Fell how warm you are and cum into that sweet pussy of yours. But that’s a stupid idea. One that young Johnny would make and he’s a better man than that. Still won’t stop him from thinking about it.

And that view of you, mwah! Watching your legs shake slightly from being overstimulated. Your hands gripping the sheets around you. Your breasts kept jiggling no matter how hard he pounded into you. He can see your eyes grow wet as you handle the sensations. All that combined with his little fantasy of cumming inside you sent him over the edge. One more thrust in and he was cursing softly as his cum filled the condom.

You both were left panting after that wonderful experience. Johnny pulled out and went to dispose of the condom. Damn there was a lot in there.

You were pretty exhausted but happy nonetheless. You don’t really know what you are supposed to do after. If you’re supposed to just put your clothes on and walk off as if what happened didn’t happen. That’s not how this goes. Not with Johnny.

He came back to you with a bottle of water in his hand. He went next to you and helped you sit up, placing his other hand on your back.

“You’re probably really exhausted after that. Here, drink this.” You gladly accepted the bottle of water, not even realizing how parched you were.

“So, what now? Do I just leave?” You asked which just proved to Johnny that it was best that he did it with you first.

“If a man ever told you to leave right after he’s an asshole. Don’t ever let a man do that to you. Come here.” Johnny pulled you close to him and made you lay down.

Your head laid on his chest which his arm was wrapped around you. He pulled the blankets over you to make sure you were comfy. His fingers ran through your hair which soothed you even more. This was incredibly nice. You didn’t realize how tired you were till he put you in this position. Your eyelids started to grow heavy and your breathing slowed down. There was only one thing left to say to him.

“Thank you…” You said softly.

You drifted off to sleep in his arms as he gave you a kiss on your forehead. Maybe Johnny was getting pretty old since he needed to sleep as well after that. He too started to fall asleep, happy to have a wonderful girl next to him again.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Cassie and Jacqui just came back from their little, or more like big, shopping trip. Cassie was about to call out to her dad till she saw your shoes at the entrance.

“Oh shit, she’s here?” She said.

She went around calling your name, surprised you weren’t out in plain sight. in fact, neither was her dad. She guessed that maybe you were upstairs in her room. Nope, not there either. Well if anything her dad had to be in his room or something. She knocked a few times but no answer. She just decided to open the door herself.

“Hey dad, do you have any idea where-“ Cassie stopped herself when you looked at the scene in front of her. Even Jacqui gasped out loud.

She slowly closed the door again, a shocked expression on her face. She looked at Jacqui who confirmed what they saw was true. Out of all of Cassie’s friends she would have never suspected you of sleeping with her father. She doesn’t even think you did it on purpose you’re not that kind of person. This was all so much and she could only mutter three words.

“What the fuck.”

After notes:🍊…🦊so like, you gonna pay rent or something? Do I gotta feed you? Fuck do you even eat? One of your comrades came crashing through the window this early morning. Who the fuck gonna pay for that? Ah, anyways. My daddy issues have come to say hi. Can’t tell if fucking Johnny will heal me or having him be a father figure to me will. Just need him to ruffle my hair and tell me my professors are the bitches not me. Hope y’all have a good day! Adiós!

[quarterlifekitty]

not to be unkind or tell you how you should feel, but fwiw your reaction to a stranger/potential new friend having the courage to share their raw, uninhibited joy & excitement at something you made is the exact reason I don’t comment on fics, even ones I love enough to write a hype book report about, bc unfortunately you’ve reinforced a learned aversion— that I should never submit an ask/interact with an author, for fear of receiving this exact kind of publicly embarrassing response on social platforms. bc it goes both ways, ya know? it’s lowkey devastating to discover being my authentic self would be unwelcome & “too much” for fandom (since i’m already “too much” for people IRL, lol rip), bc there’s too much risk of committing an unintentional faux pas if I don’t water myself down. it’s exhausting & saddening to know I’d have to police myself here, too, and so I choose to not bother with any of it. 

ironically, I’m also a stranger who loved that vamp!soap post too & felt similarly excited about it. which is how I feel about most of your stuff, actually, bc tho I may be a stranger I’m also a very shy & quiet longtime follower. 🫠😬🤷‍♀️

just thought you should know it’s easy to accidentally alienate someone out of ever engaging with fandom in the future. do with that what you will.

Listen man. There’s a difference between telling someone “I really liked this!! It was a really cool idea and I would love to see more if you’re feeling inspired.” Vs “MORE MORE I WANT MORE”. I’m not asking you to change yourself. I’m asking to be treated like a fucking human being as opposed to a content machine. The truth is that when you’re interacting with people you do not know, the idea is that you behave politely until they know you well enough to be able to interpret your mannerisms the way you intend for them to come across.

I literally do not know how to be kinder about it. I told the person that I find it discouraging and tiring to receive comments that are just “part 2 when?” And “I need 60k words of this stat”. If you want to engage with me and my work, I don’t think it’s a hard ask to request that you actually speak about what you liked and give me some form of meaningful feedback instead of just demanding more.

Fandom dies without comments. It’s why writers get discouraged and give up. No one is asking you to “water yourself down”, writers are asking to be treated with the decency and respect you would, I sincerely hope, treat someone you’ve only just introduced yourself to. Would you say things like that to an author you met in real life? Or any artist?

Also, quite frankly, if you’re the type of person who just writes MORE MORE I WANT MORE PART 2 as a comment? I want to alienate you because the “engagement” you’re bringing here does nothing but discourage and tire me out and make me feel dehumanized. And if you think it’s disrespectful of me to erect that boundary on my own personal blog where I am sharing my personal things for free, I kindly request that you block me and move on, because I do not want to associate with you. I want to associate with the people who can interact with me while understanding my boundaries and that I’m just a person and that you need to get to know me if you want friendship and community before making demands.

I ask again, would you ever say something like that ask said to and artist you had just met in real life? And maybe you would, but you need to understand that text is not a comprehensive indicator of tone, emotion, or intended sentiment on its own.

[jessiso]

"Statistically Speaking"

A Criminal Minds one-shot | Spencer Reid x Reader | Part I

A museum trip leads to an unexpected, adorable connection with Dr. Spencer Reid.

w/c 936 (short n sweet - may do a pt 2?)

...

You weren’t expecting much from your solo Saturday trip to the Museum of Natural History.

A quiet afternoon, some dinosaur bones, maybe a fun fact or two for your group chat. You certainly didn’t expect to be interrupted mid-sip of your overpriced museum café latte by a tall, slightly disheveled man speed-walking past the entrance with a bag slung awkwardly over his shoulder and a trail of papers sticking out.

You blink.

He walks straight into a sign for the Prehistoric Oceans exhibit.

You blink again.

He mutters a curse under his breath, adjusts his satchel, and proceeds to argue with himself—out loud—about whether trilobites evolved before or after eurypterids.

Naturally, you follow him.

It’s not every day you see a real-life walking encyclopedia with a messy mop of curls and a cardigan two sizes too big wandering the museum like he's solving a case.

He stops in front of a large fossil encased in glass and tilts his head.

“Statistically speaking,” he says to no one in particular, “most people underestimate the size of a Dunkleosteus by at least 40%. Which is understandable, considering the average adult can't properly visualize scale without a frame of reference.”

You cross your arms, intrigued. “Is that a challenge?”

He jumps slightly, glancing your way like he hadn’t noticed he was talking out loud. “Oh! I—I didn’t mean to sound condescending. I just, um, I really like fish.”

You bite your lip to suppress a smile. “Big, extinct murder-fish?”

“They’re armored! And had one of the strongest bite forces in prehistoric history!” he says, lighting up like a Christmas tree. “Some estimates suggest up to 8,000 pounds per square inch. It could bite a great white shark in half, probably. Not that it ever did, since they didn’t coexist—but, um, theoretically.”

You snort. “You’re adorable.”

He blinks at you like you just solved a puzzle he wasn’t expecting to exist.

“Spencer,” he says after a pause, offering a hand that’s slightly ink-stained and warm. “Dr. Spencer Reid.”

You shake it. “I’m Y/N. Just... Y/N. Not a doctor of anything.”

“Yet,” he says thoughtfully. “Statistically speaking, you could still become one.”

You laugh. “Wow. You really like statistics, don’t you?”

“It’s comforting,” he says, sheepishly tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “Numbers make sense. People... not always so much.”

“Well, I’m a person,” you say playfully. “How do I rank, statistically speaking?”

He pushes his glasses up his nose and actually thinks about it. “Hmm. So far, you’ve engaged in three nerdy jokes, followed me through two exhibits, and haven’t run away during a five-minute monologue about Devonian sea life. That puts you in the top 1.3% of strangers I’ve interacted with in public.”

You grin. “So I’m special?”

“Empirically? Yes.” He smiles, shy and warm. “And also... you’re really pretty.”

That catches you off guard. “Well, now I have to ask you to walk with me through the dinosaur exhibit.”

He blushes—furiously—but he nods, already falling into step beside you.

By the time you reach the T-Rex skeleton, he's telling you about how the odds of fossilization are so low that it's basically a miracle any of these creatures were preserved at all. You barely understand half of it, but you hang on every word because he’s excited, and charming, and maybe a little awkward—but in a way that makes your heart flutter.

Somewhere between the fossils and the fun facts, you realize that this is probably going to be the best Saturday you’ve had in a long time.

And Spencer?

He’s already calculating the probability of you agreeing to dinner afterward.

As you pass beneath the towering skeleton of the T-Rex, Spencer glances at you sideways.

He’s still talking—something about bone density and how it affects preservation rates—but there’s a different tone to his voice now. Less lecture, more... hope?

You pause in front of a display showing a reconstructed dinosaur nest. “So, if I were a prehistoric creature,” you ask, “what would the odds be of you asking me out?”

He stops walking.

Dead serious, he says, “Well, factoring in our conversational chemistry, shared interest in science-adjacent topics, your remarkable patience with my rambling, and the fact that you've smiled at me eight times in the last fifteen minutes... I’d say the odds are currently 87.2%.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s... really specific.”

“I left a 12.8% margin for shyness or unexpected social variables,” he explains quickly, then winces. “Unless I’ve misread something. Which is possible. Probable, even.”

You step closer and nudge his shoulder gently with yours. “Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“I’d bring your odds up to 100% if you asked me now.”

He blinks. Then flushes. “Would you—um—would you maybe like to grab dinner? With me? Tonight? I know a place with really good Thai food and incredible mango sticky rice. I’ve been told it’s the best in D.C. Or we could get something more casual, or less casual, or—”

“Spencer,” you interrupt, laughing softly. “Dinner sounds perfect. Sticky rice and all.”

He beams. Like, full-on, dimples-and-sparkle beam. You wonder if he smiles like this often or if you're just lucky.

As you start walking toward the museum exit together, he casually says, “Did you know mangoes are the most widely consumed fruit in the world?”

“Is that a fact you save for post-date dessert talk?”

He grins again. “Maybe.”

You link your arm with his and shake your head fondly. “God, you're such a nerd.”

“And statistically,” he says, glancing down at you, “Nerds make the best boyfriends.”

You don’t disagree.

(Click here for Part II)