#so the other three will have to eat everything

[vibelladonna]

❛ 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉 ❜ 𝜗𝜚 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒 𝓍 𝑔𝓃! 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Crowe has been working himself into the ground dealing with the never-ending mountain of student council paperwork, ridiculous club requests, and—worst of all—the ever-demanding student council president. 

You've begged him, time and time again, to get an assistant, but of course, he refuses. Something about ‘not trusting anyone’ and ‘preferring to suffer in silence’ like some kind of tragic protagonist. So, naturally, you took matters into your own hands. if Crowe won’t take care of himself? Well, you’ll just have to do it for him.

Even if it means driving him absolutely insane in the process.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉: this was a request from anon! so, of course, my dumbass turned it into a full-blown story. MIND YOU, I’VE BEEN STRUGGLING WITH THIS FOR THREE WEEKS TRYING TO FIGURE OUT THE ENDING. And it's not really poof read as I just annoyed looking at it but i haven’t written crowe in a minute, so here we are.

𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: overworked student council vp!crowe, chaotic & teasing assistant!reader, fem body!reader, reader takes no shit, boss/assistant relationship, playful banter, teasing, mutual pining, secret relationship, possessive behavior, possessive crowe, sassy reader, fluff and smut, slow burn (kinda), soft dom!crowe, playful sub!reader, and mutual obsession  

Sooooooo……

What’s an assistant? you should already know

Well, an assistant can be a person who helps someone else—or a device, or a product designed to make life easier. Something you’d been telling Jericho Ichabod—sorry, Crowe, Prince Charming himself—that he desperately needed.  

The campus was alive with its usual midday bustle. From noon to around two, the student center became a chaotic mess of movement and noise. 

The hallways were clogged with students threading through the crowd, half-zipped backpacks slung over shoulders, their conversations weaving together into a dull roar.  The on-campus market beeped and whirred as it spat out overpriced snacks, and groups of friends hovered near the food court, laughing, talking, and shoving each other playfully before heading to their next class.  

None of it really registered with you.  

While the rest of the student body thrived in the high-energy atmosphere, instead, you moved at a different pace—faster and more worried.

Your thoughts were elsewhere as Crowe had been on your mind since the moment Geo had texted you while you were in the middle of your classes. ‘He's stuck with more student council crap,’ as Geo had so eloquently put it.  

That wasn’t surprising. 

Crowe had a habit of stretching himself too thin, juggling responsibilities like it was some kind of sport. But what bothered you wasn’t just the workload—it was that, for all his charm and effortless control, he never let anyone see when it got to him.

You’d planned to meet him for lunch today, a rare breather in the middle of his overbooked schedule, but now you weren’t even sure if he’d bother to eat.  

Annoying.  

Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you made your way upstairs toward the student council room. It was tucked away in a quieter part of the building, hidden beside the upper-level seating area where students went to eat lunch away from the main chaos. You’d come straight here after class—your day was already done, but his, knowing him, was far from over.  

And if he thought he could brush this off like everything else? 

Yeah, no. Not happening.

The second you reached the door, the noise from the hallway seemed to dull, like the chaos of the outside world just couldn’t quite reach this space. The air felt heavier here, still in a way that made you hesitate. Even the fluorescent lights above barely made a sound, their low hum swallowed by the quiet. It was almost eerie—like stepping into a place that existed just slightly out of sync with the rest of reality.   

Through the small window on the other door, you spotted him.  

Crowe was hunched over his desk, his shoulders drawn tight with the kind of tension that looked like it had settled there hours ago. His head was bent low, nearly buried in a mountain of papers that had practically taken over his entire workspace.

 It wasn’t just a mess—it was a battlefield of assignments, reports, and hastily scribbled sticky notes, some half-crumpled, others barely hanging on. His usual easygoing energy was nowhere in sight. Instead, there was only this heavy, rigid focus that clung to him like a weight.   

His fingers drummed against the desk in a steady, repetitive rhythm—soft, but insistent. You’d seen him do it before, a nervous habit, a tell he probably wasn’t even aware of. The sight of him like this, so unlike himself, made something sink in your chest.

The usual spark in his eyes—the one filled with humor, mischief, that unmistakable Crowe charm—was nowhere to be found. 

Instead, he just looked… drained.  

You hovered in the doorway, unsure whether to step inside or leave him be. Before you could decide, the sound of approaching footsteps pulled you from your thoughts.  

Turning your head, you spotted Geo strolling down the hall, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jacket. His expression was that signature mix of exasperation and indifference he always seemed to wear, like he was perpetually caught between amusement and suffering.

As he reached you, he let out a deep sigh—whether it was for dramatic effect or genuine exhaustion, it was impossible to tell. 

“He’s been at it since, like, forever,” Geo muttered, jerking his chin toward the window without breaking his stride. His boots scuffed lightly against the floor as he came to a stop beside you, one shoulder propped lazily against the doorframe. 

The bad lighting light from inside the office cast long shadows across his face, but the slight furrow in his brow was still obvious. “Pretty sure he hasn’t even looked up once. Council’s been dumping a mountain of work on him lately.”  

You followed his gaze to the desk across the room. Crowe sat hunched over a chaotic spread of papers, ink stains dotting his fingers as he scribbled something with near-frantic precision.

Again, the lighting itself was casting sharp angles against the exhaustion clinging to him. His normally neat braid was barely form together—stray strands falling into his face, but he didn’t seem to notice.  

Your frown deepened. “He hasn’t even taken a break?”  

Geo let out a short, exasperated scoff, shaking his head. “Please. When does Jericho ever ask for help? He’s as stubborn as a damn mule when it comes to work—worse, even. Dude acts like taking a breather is some kind of mortal sin.” He tilted his head toward the office, his voice dipping into something dangerously close to concern, though he tried to keep it casual. “I mean, just look at him. He’s running on fumes. Won’t be long before he passes out face-first into those papers.”  

Something twisted uncomfortably in your chest as you studied Crowe. He was always the composed one, the one who had everything under control—even when he didn’t.

But right now? Right now, he just looked... weighed down. Buried under the sheer amount of responsibility he refused to share with anyone else.  

Geo nudged you lightly with his elbow, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You should probably go snap him out of it before he actually fuses with that desk,” he said, tone dry but not unkind. “Just... don’t expect him to admit he needs it.”  

You inhaled quietly before stepping forward, your footsteps barely making a sound on the polished floor. Crowe didn’t react, too absorbed in whatever he was working on. Up close, the signs of his exhaustion were even clearer—dark circles under his deep blue eyes, tension carved into his shoulders, the pencil awkwardly tucked behind his ear like some absentminded afterthought.  

You lingered just long enough to take it all in before leaning down and knocking your knuckles lightly against the wooden desk. “Knock, knock,” you said, keeping your tone light. “It’s me—your lunch date-slash-concerned friend, here to drag you out of your impending paper-induced demise.”  

For the first time in what felt like hours, Crowe blinked and finally looked up. His eyes, wide and unfocused for a split second, darted around in mild panic before recognition settled in, dulling the shock. He blinked sluggishly, like he was dragging himself out of some deep, paper-induced trance, before exhaling through his nose and shifting his gaze back to the disaster zone that was his desk.  

“Oh. Hey,” he mumbled, voice scratchy from what was probably hours of silence. “Didn’t see you there.”  

“Yeah, no kidding. You were about five more minutes away from fusing with these papers.” You crossed your arms, tilting your head as you gave him a once-over. His posture was stiff, shoulders hunched in that telltale way that screamed exhaustion, and the dark circles under his eyes looked even worse up close. “Are you even taking a break? Or let me guess—‘I’m fine, I’ll finish soon,’ right?”  

He mustered up something that might’ve been a smile in another life, but now it just looked strained, like his face wasn’t quite up to the task. “I’m fine,” he said—right on cue. “I’m just trying to catch up. There’s a lot to do... I’ll finish soon.”  

You gave him a flat, unimpressed stare. “Geo ratted you out,” you informed him, watching as his eye twitched just slightly. “Says you’ve been glued to this desk all morning. So unless you’ve suddenly figured out how to cram ten hours of work into two, I’m calling total BS.”  

Crowe opened his mouth, either to deny or argue—probably both—but you were already moving, plopping yourself onto the edge of his desk without waiting for an invitation. Papers crinkled beneath you, but honestly? He had too many to begin with.   

“Alright,” you announced, clapping your hands together. “New plan. I’m your assistant now. Consider me officially hired.”  

His brows furrowed, somewhere between confused and mildly alarmed. “What?”  

“You heard me.” You grinned, reaching for the nearest folder. “If you won’t take a break, I’m gonna help you power through this so you can. Think of me as your unpaid intern—but better-looking and way more fun to be around.”

Crowe thrust out a hand like a human stop sign, his usual smooth-talking charm dimming under the weight of sheer, soul-crushing exhaustion. “I don’t need an assistant,” he grumbled, voice teetering on the edge of a breakdown. “And definitely not one who thinks ‘alphabetical order’ is a conspiracy theory.”  

You scoffed, waving him off like an irritating fly. “Oh, come on. Filing is just alphabet soup but with extra steps. Besides, it’s either this, or I start making the most obnoxious noises known to mankind until you surrender and flee this room.”  

Crowe stared at you. Hard. You could practically see the internal debate waging behind his tired eyes. He wanted to fight back, to assert some semblance of authority in his own workspace, but let’s be real—he didn’t have the energy for that. 

After what felt like an eternity of silent suffering, he let out a long, suffering sigh, the kind that screamed, ‘I have officially given up on life.’ He dragged a hand down his face. “Fine,” he muttered in defeat. “But don’t touch anything important unless I told you.”  

“Relax,” you chirped, already rifling through a stack of papers with the confidence of someone who absolutely should not be trusted with paperwork. “I’ve got this. What’s the worst that could happen?”  

The worst did happen.  

Many times in fact.

You just didn’t realize it until it was too late.

By the time two weeks had passed, it was like you had unknowingly signed a blood pact with Crowe—minus the actual blood, but definitely with the same level of inescapable obligation. Somehow, without fully realizing how it happened, you had been roped into the prestigious yet completely unpaid role of Crowe’s unofficial official assistant.

Like clockwork, as soon as your classes wrapped up for the day, there you were—reporting for duty like some poor soul enlisted in a student council boot camp, minus the combat training but with twice the paperwork.  

And the workload? 

Oh, it was something else. 

You couldn't make this up if you tried. The sheer volume of tasks dumped on Crowe was enough to make you question whether the entire campus had collectively mistaken him for their personal secretary.

Student club events? His problem. Fraternity and sorority requests? Yup, tossed onto his ever-growing pile. Small-time guest speakers, whose only real compensation was probably free coffee and a handshake? Also somehow his responsibility.  

At one point, you found yourself holding a stack of papers detailing plans for a campus-wide "stress-relief yoga night," and you very nearly asked if Crowe had been secretly elected mayor of the university while you weren’t looking.  

And, because you were clearly a genius with absolutely no impulse control, you had, at some point, volunteered to help him with all of it.

Cleaning up his disaster of a desk? You were on it. Sprinting across campus to drop off forms like some kind of academic carrier pigeon? Already flapping your metaphorical wings. Sitting through excruciating planning meetings for student events? 

Sure, why not? It’s not like watching Crowe argue with five sorority reps over whether they could hold a ‘glow-in-the-dark karaoke night’ in the ��library’ was a fever dream you ever expected to have—but here you were, living it.

It didn’t take long for you to figure out that Crowe wasn’t just overburdened—he was the burden. A walking, talking monument to suffering.  

“Hey, uh, question,” you said one afternoon, dumping yet another stack of papers onto his already paper-laden desk. You weren’t even sure if there was a desk under there anymore, or if Crowe just sat upon a sacred altar of unfinished paperwork. “How many of these events actually needto go through the student council? Like, for real?”  

“All of them,” Crowe said flatly, not even sparing you a glance as he scribbled furiously on some poor soul’s event approval form.  

“No, no, I mean…” You leaned in, lowering your voice as if you were about to drop some grand revelation. “How many actually need to go through you?”  

Crowe finally paused, pen hovering mid-signature as he slowly—painfully slowly—lifted his gaze to meet yours. His expression was the physical embodiment of ‘I will throw you out of this room myself.’  

“All of them,” he repeated, but this time, slower. Like that somehow made it less absurd.  

Sometime later, while you were valiantly battling yet another stack of event proposals—seriously, why were there so many bake sales?—you dramatically collapsed into the chair across from him.  

“So, uh,” you drawled, tossing a paper into the abyss that was Crowe’s inbox, “is this a student council or a circus? Be honest.”  

Crowe didn’t even look up. Didn’t even hesitate.  

“Yes.”

What.

Anyway, somehow, even with all the chaos, you managed to find a rhythm in it all. Cleaning Crowe’s desk became second nature—so much so that you started questioning if you had become some kind of sentient maid. You even unearthed what could only be described as a historical artifact: a half-eaten sandwich wedged between two stacks of papers. Given its fossilized state, you figured it was either from last semester or from the founding days of the school itself.  

Running errands across campus turned into an unintentional workout program. Who needed a gym membership when you were speed-walking between buildings, dodging rogue club recruiters, and carrying stacks of paperwork heavier than your will to live?  

And attending meetings? That became your personal form of entertainment. You even started timing how long it would take before someone made an absolutely insane request—your record was three minutes. The last champion was some guy from the Gardening Club who tried to get funding for a “therapeutic koi pond.” In the middle of the cafeteria.  

Today, though, you and Crowe were actually making progress, discussing the upcoming club events without any major disturbances. A miracle, honestly.  

Then the door slammed open.  

What waltzed was him—the student council president, looking like he had just stepped off a runway and onto your last nerve. He was an upperclassman with the kind of aura that screamed, ‘I was born better than you, and I will remind you every chance I get.’ 

“Ichabod,” he drawled as if merely saying Crowe’s name was a task beneath him. Then, with all the grace of a medieval tax collector, he dumped another towering stack of paperwork onto Crowe’s desk, causing several precariously balanced forms to slide to the floor. “More approvals. Get them done.”  

Crowe had been hunched over, pen in hand, scribbling out what seemed like his last remaining shred of hope. But as soon as the president stormed in, dropping the latest avalanche of paperwork onto the desk, he froze. His hand hovered in the air for a moment—was he about to launch his pen at the door, or was he just letting the despair wash over him? 

You couldn’t tell, but you knew Crowe had just about hit his limit. He closed his eyes briefly. Was he praying? Meditating? Or was he visualizing the sweet, sweet release of just escaping this nightmare by launching himself through the window?

It was hard to say.

You, on the other hand, were getting mildly entertained by the absurdity of the situation. "Wow," you said, blinking at the fresh chaos that had just descended upon the desk. "I didn’t know you were accepting job applications for ‘Official Paperwork Mule.’"

The president—who had somehow magically entered the room without making a sound, like some kind of overpriced ninja—turned his icy gaze on you. He looked you up and down with all the disdain of someone who had just stepped in a puddle of something they’d prefer not to identify, his eyes narrowing like you’d just insulted his firstborn. "Oh, you're still here?" His voice dripped with condescension. "How quaint."

You couldn’t help but grin. You had been waiting for this. "Yep. Unlike the funding you approved for that haunted house event last week." You paused for effect, casually flipping through the pile of forms as if you weren’t even phased. "I suggest you get to it quick, though, before I let the officials know about your… interesting decisions."

Crowe made a noise. It was an odd noise—something between a strangled laugh and a desperate cough. He tried to cover it up, but the damage was done.

The president, however, either completely oblivious or choosing not to dignify your retort with a response, turned back to Crowe with the practiced air of someone who thought his very presence should be worshipped. "This needs to be finished today."

“Of course it does,” Crowe muttered under his breath, already sinking into the depths of his inevitable paperwork doom. You could practically hear the weight of his soul dragging itself down further into the abyss.

The president gave a tight, self-satisfied smile, like he’d just handed down some sort of royal decree, and turned on his heel to exit the room. His steps were as calculated and ridiculous as his whole existence. You couldn’t help but notice his outfit—tailored suit, perfectly polished shoes, and the kind of cologne that probably cost more than your tuition. 

It was almost as if he thought his appearance alone could somehow make him better than everyone else in the room. It was adorable.

He was halfway out the door when you casually called after him, "Hey, by the way—are you wearing that suit to go rescue puppies or attend a high-society funeral?"

The president paused, looking over his shoulder at you with an expression that could’ve been carved into marble. He said nothing, but his eyes briefly flashed with the kind of ‘I’ll ruin you’ look that only the truly entitled could master. 

You, however, weren’t even remotely phased.

"Yeah, I thought so," you added, pushing another pile of forms onto Crowe’s desk. "You’ve got the whole ‘I’m better than everyone’ look down, but next time, maybe try not looking like you belong in a museum." 

Crowe groaned as the door slammed shut, leaving the two of you alone with the mountain of paperwork once more. You sighed, nudging a piece of paper that had somehow escaped the clutches of the abyss. "So… koi pond in the cafeteria is looking less ridiculous by the minute, huh?" 

Crowe didn’t answer.

He was too busy looking like he might spontaneously combust from exhaustion, or maybe just give up on life entirely. You considered offering him a donut or a bucket of coffee, but really, at this point, nothing was going to save him.

“Crowe? You good?” you asked, leaning in closer. His entire posture screamed ‘I’m about to faceplant into this paperwork and never wake up’. You wondered if he was trying to figure out how to escape into the sweet oblivion of the nearest nap corner or if he was plotting his own demise. At this point, it could go either way.

“I’m... fine,” he muttered, but the way his hand slid across the desk in slow motion, like he was having a mental breakdown in real-time, told you everything you needed to know.  

“You sure? You look like you’re one coffee away from crying on a stack of forms."

Crowe groaned, a sound so filled with despair it could’ve been the opening line to a sad indie movie. “I just want to finish one thing today, ‘just one thing,’ without someone handing me more stupid paperwork. Is that too much to ask for?”

“Probably,” you said, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “But, hey, that’s what you signed up for, right? Like, what was your grand plan here? To turn the student council into your own personal administrative hell?”

Crowe shot you a glance that was somewhere between ‘I could kill you’ and ‘Please, for the love of all that’s holy, be quiet.’ You could practically see the little clock in his head ticking down, counting how much longer he could withstand his own existence before he collapsed in the pile of paperwork like some sort of sad, overworked martyr.  

"At least give me a minute to process the chaos." His voice had that exhausted, cracked tone that made you wonder if he’d been functioning on three hours of sleep for the past week.  

You took pity on him. "Alright, alright," you said, grabbing the latest stack of event forms and flipping through them. "Let’s at least start brainstorming for these. I’m guessing half of these are doomed from the start.”

Crowe’s response was a wordless nod, his head still resting on his hand as if that would somehow reboot his brain. It looked like he might pass out at any moment, but somehow, he managed to pull himself back together. Barely.  

"Alright, what's the first one?" you asked, leaning over to get a better look at the next form.  

Crowe’s finger shakily pointed to it. "‘Classical music night... on the roof... with fog machines.’"

You blinked. "I… I don’t even know what to say to that. What, are we trying to summon ghosts now?"

Crowe groaned again. "It’s a real proposal. They want it approved for next week."

"Okay," you said, rubbing your temples. "I think we’re officially past the point of saving this year’s student council. This is just a slow-motion train wreck."

Crowe was too exhausted to even form a proper sentence, his mind clearly whirling through a mental tally of disasters. You could practically see the gears grinding in his head—he was done. It wasn’t clear whether he was about to drop dead or have a full-on emotional meltdown, but either way, the path to recovery was nothing but more paperwork, endless meetings, and a growing sense of doom.

"Here," you said, tossing him a coffee cup with a little too much flair. "You need this more than I do."

Crowe didn’t say a word, just took the cup and stared blankly at his desk. You half expected him to fall asleep standing up, but then he took a long, defeated sip like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. For a moment, you swore you saw him look almost… human again. Though still on the edge of total collapse.  

“Only… five more hours of this shit,” he muttered, voice raw and tired. His words hung in the air like a bad omen, but the way he said it was almost like he was trying to will it into something less awful.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work. 

You leaned against the desk—looking over a few documents that Crowe just signed, watching him as he rubbed his temples like he was trying to massage the chaos out of his brain. Then, he took a deep breath and dragged himself to his feet, his movements slow and heavy as if each step took effort.

You stood there, waiting for him to make the move, knowing he was about to drag you both back into the hell that was his office. 

You followed him out to the coffee area just outside Crowe’s office, the place practically empty except for the hum of a few vending machines in the corner. Most people were in class, living their lives while you and Crowe were stuck in this chaotic little bubble of misery together. But honestly, you didn’t mind. Being stuck with Crowe wasn’t the worst thing in the world. 

In fact, you might even go so far as to say you kind of liked it—chaos and all. It was weird, but after all the hours spent with him, this was just your rhythm. He was like a broken record, and you were along for the ride. 

Crowe leaned against the the desk beside you, staring out at the empty room, looking just about as done as any human could be without literally face-planting. “Let’s just…” He paused, running a hand through his unbraided hair as if he were trying to shake the tiredness out of his bones. “Finish this,” he muttered, but there was no real conviction behind the words. 

It was more like he was just going through the motions, a man trying to survive one last round of office hell before he collapsed into a pile of paperwork rubble.

You shrugged, leaning a little closer to him, not caring much about the empty room around you. "Yeah, sure. Let’s just get through this so you can collapse into your desk in peace."

Crowe didn’t laugh, but you saw the corner of his lips twitch. It was the closest thing to a smile you’d get today, and that was enough for you. He took another sip of coffee, staring at the distant empty chairs like they were mocking him. Honestly, the whole situation was ridiculous, but if you had to be stuck in this hellish paperwork vortex, you couldn’t think of anyone better to be stuck with.

Despite the avalanche of paperwork, the never-ending meetings, and the constant chaos that seemed to follow Crowe everywhere, there were small, quiet moments when his gratitude actually managed to slip through the cracks.

It wasn’t loud or obvious—no heartfelt speeches or dramatic declarations of appreciation. No, it was more like a fleeting shadow, there one moment and gone the next, but it still spoke volumes.  

It was one of those afternoons when you were buried under yet another mountain of event proposals, flipping through them with all the enthusiasm of a sloth on a caffeine crash. Your eyes had glazed over, the words on the pages blending together into an unintelligible mess of overly ambitious plans and unreasonable requests.

You were pretty sure you could start a new career as a professional paperweight at this point, considering how often you were parked next to Crowe’s desk. But hey, someonehad to keep the chaos in check, right?  

Instead of fighting for your own desk—because, honestly, that would’ve been a lost cause given the sheer size of Crowe’s desk, which could’ve fit a small army and their gear—you'd just claimed a corner of it. You’d made it your own little nook, the edge of his mountain of papers your personal workspace. 

Sure, it was a little unconventional, but considering Crowe's desk practically looked like the inside of an office supply store exploded on it, it made sense. Plus, it was way more fun to pretend you were part of the madness instead of standing on the sidelines.  

So there you were, half-buried in a fresh pile of event forms that had been hastily shoved into your hands the second you walked into the room, flipping through them with the kind of mindless speed that comes from hours of sheer boredom. 

You didn’t even look up, thinking it was just another stray form that had somehow wandered into your orbit. But then you heard it—a soft clink. And when you glanced over, there it was: a steaming cup of tea, perfectly brewed and a small snack, sitting on the edge of his desk as though it had always been meant to be there. 

Crowe didn’t say anything. He didn’t even speak to you.

He just silently placed it down, then you felt his hand on top of your head, planting what felt like kiss on top. Afterwards, he gave you a brief, exhausted glance, and went back to his own paperwork like nothing had happened. As if that tiny, thoughtful gesture wasn’t quietly shifting the entire atmosphere of the room. It was his way of saying, ‘I see you’—without actually saying a word. 

Then there were the rare occasions when you handed him something that, frankly, could have been labeled as a ‘miracle’—like a perfectly organized event schedule, where the scattered mess of dates and details had somehow been magically turned into something resembling order. His eyes would flicker to it for just a second before he’d mutter a quiet, almost begrudging “thanks.” 

The words were always there, but they came out like he was fighting them every step of the way as if the concept of gratitude wasn’t quite his thing. Still, the small nod that followed—something barely noticeable, but unmistakably there—told you everything you needed to know.  

Those little moments were a rarity, but when they happened, they felt like an entire month’s worth of appreciation crammed into a second. No fanfare, no grand speeches—just Crowe, the overworked, underappreciated student council lifeline, showing his gratitude in the most subtle ways possible.

It was like he didn’t know how to say it out loud, but his actions spoke louder than any words could. 

It wasn’t much. But it was enough to keep you going.  

That, and the sheer comedy gold of watching Crowe try—and fail—every time a club proposed something so ridiculous it could’ve been pulled straight from a fever dream. Like the latest masterpiece—a ‘puppies and pizza’ day in the science building. The look on his face when he read that? Priceless. 

It was like watching someone go from a hopeful puppy to a full-on terrified deer caught in headlights. Half of him expected to ask if it was some kind of prank. It wasn’t.

But today?

Today’s mark a day of early freedom 

One of those rare, blessed afternoons where Crowe managed to finish his work before sunset. That alone was enough to make you believe in higher powers—like the universe had decided to give Crowe a break for once. And honestly, you were enjoying it too. 

Crowe seemed... different. Less like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and more like he was just a dude who'd had a good day for once. His hair was actually neat—an anomaly that deserved to be framed and hung in a museum—and his outfit looked like it had been picked out by someone who didn’t live off caffeine and stress. His usual tense, I’m-one-email-away-from-a-breakdown stance was gone, replaced by a more relaxed posture. 

And the best part? That trademark smirk of his wasn’t the usual ‘I’m-exhausted-but-I’ll-pretend-I’m-cool’ look. It was... real. Like he actually meant it. You had to blink a couple of times to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. 

"You know," he started, hands stuffed in his pockets, walking a little lighter than usual. He glanced over at you, his face not quite as guarded as usual, like he was letting his walls down just a little. "You've been a such lifesaver."

You raised an eyebrow, figuring he was about to make some sarcastic remark. But instead, he hesitated for a second, exhaled, and with a tiny shake of his head and a soft half-smile, he added, "I don't think I would've survived without you."

Okay, that? That was huge.

For Crowe, the guy who acted like he had the entire universe under control at all times, admitting that he needed help was like watching a robot suddenly develop emotions. You could tell he meant it, too, judging by the way he looked at you. There was no sarcasm, no defensive wall—just a genuinely appreciative look. And yeah, maybe it made your heart do a weird little skip. 

You coughed to cover up your smile, not wanting to get too sappy about it, but there was no denying the warmth spreading through you. 

"I need to wrap up a few things before I can lock up the student council room," he said, voice steady and calm. "After that... we came to meet at my place?”

You couldn’t help it. Your lips twitched into a grin, arms crossed, watching him with an amused glint in your eye. "Wow, Crowe, are you suggesting a private date?"

The reaction was instant.  

His eyes widened, and for the first time, you swore you saw the faintest hint of color dusting his cheeks—a slightly deeper shade against his usual warm brown complexion. Just for a second before his usual playful demeanor slid back into place. He let out a half-laugh, half-grumble. "It’s not a date," he muttered, though you could tell he was trying not to smile. "Just... you know. A thing."

"Uh-huh. Sure, a thing," you teased, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I mean, if ‘things’ include pizza and not having to talk about student council for once, I’ll consider it.” 

He rolled his eyes, but that little real smirk was back again. "You’re impossible."

"Yeah, but you love it," you shot back with a grin.

Crowe let out a short, breathy laugh, shaking his head at himself. “You’re such a tease.” 

You tilted your head, your smirk widening. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  

His deadpan stare told you he definitely knew exactly what you were doing. You could practically hear the thoughts running through his mind: I know you’re trying to distract me with that nonsense, but it’s not going to work.

But instead of entertaining your antics, he let out a long exhale, like the weight of the world had just landed on his shoulders, and straightened up. His hands moved quickly to gather the last of his papers, that familiar rhythm of someone who’d been in a constant state of ‘paperwork battle’ for way too long.  

"I’ll be done in a bit,” he muttered, glancing at the clock, looking like he was calculating the exact time when he could finally escape the clutches of his responsibilities. “Shouldn’t take long. Just… come to my place, please.”  

The way he said it was almost a plea, like he was clinging to the last shred of hope that you would save him from his own self-imposed chaos. There was something in the way his voice dropped, that quiet vulnerability that even Crowe couldn’t hide when he was completely overwhelmed. 

He didn’t ask for help. Ever. 

But right now, it seemed like he couldn’t bear to be alone with all that paperwork for even another minute. 

Without even thinking, you stepped forward, about to throw out some joke or tease him, but before you could, his hand shot out, fingers lightly brushing against yours, like he was desperately reaching for something, anything to ground him.  

You froze, blinking at the unexpected contact. Crowe’s hand lingered there for a moment, not quite holding yours, but not pulling away either. His gaze met yours for just a second—there was something there, a flicker of something deeper than just the usual exhausted annoyance.

“I don’t… I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said, his voice a little quieter, a little more raw than you were used to hearing.

Your heart skipped a beat, and it took everything in you to resist the urge to give him the classic ‘it’s fine, we’re cool’ smile. But you could see it—he was yearning for just a little bit of peace, a little bit of support. 

Maybe more than he’d ever admit.

So, you squeezed his hand, just a little, before giving him a half-smirk. "Don't worry, Crowe. You’ll survive. Just don't expect me to help every time you feel like a nervous wreck." You smiled, slowly walking away. “I’ll gonna go change. See you later.” 

His lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything else, only shaking his head as he returned to his work. You turned on your heel, heading out of the student center with an extra pep in your step. Whether he meant it as a date or not, he still invited you over.  

And that was definitely something to work with.  

With that, you made a break for it, finally escaping the chaos of the student council room. You decided to take the scenic route back to your apartment—aka a detour to your place to freshen up a little. Nothing too extravagant, just a little something to feel less like a walking disaster.  

You slipped into your long-flare yoga pants, because, let's be honest, they were basically good thin material and nobody could judge you for that. You paired them with a long tank top and layered it with a cropped graphic tee that you’d definitely cut at the shoulder yourself for that ‘I woke up like this’ off-the-shoulder look. 

Sure, it looked like you couldn’t be bothered to try, but you weren’t heading to a red carpet event—just to Crowe’s place to eat dinner. Who needed to look cute when you were about to inhale your body weight in food, right?  

You kept your hairstyle in check, though—that was the one thing you weren't willing to sacrifice. A little effort to at least pretend you had it together. And the earrings? Oh, the earrings were a must. They hung from your ears like delicate little reminders that you were, in fact, capable of caring about something.

Maybe not your best outfit, but its’s something.  

Before heading back out, you made a pit stop in the kitchen to grab a small blueberry cheesecake from your favorite bakery. The one where the guy behind the counter always slid an extra smile your way whenever you came in, like he was secretly rooting for you to get that slice of dessert joy. 

You grabbed it like a pro, but this wasn’t just any cheesecake. Oh, no. This was the kind of cheesecake that required ID verification because they had to make sure you were worthy of its glory.  

It was rich, creamy, and topped with a glossy layer of blueberry wine reduction that probably had magical properties. Or at least, that’s what you liked to tell yourself. You figured the extra indulgence might help Crowe decompress a little, so, like a good friend, you were willing to go the extra mile.  

“Maybe it’ll help Crowe unwind,” you mumbled to yourself, adjusting the strap of your bag before heading out. “Not that he’d admit to it. He probably thinks ‘relaxing’ is a dirty word.”  

You snorted at the thought. Crowe would probably rather eat a salad than admit he was anything less than an overworked machine. But hey, everyone deserves a little luxury now and then, right? Even if that luxury was blueberry cheesecake and a very reluctant attempt at unwinding.

The walk to Crowe’s place was mercifully short, tucked just on the edge of campus. The air was crisp, carrying the lingering chill of the evening, and the faint glow of his windows stood out against the dimming sky.

It was a modest place—large, practical, the kind of space that was meant for luxury rather than convenience. But the moment you spotted the faint flicker of movement inside, a shuffle of shadow passing by the window, you knew he was home.  

You hesitated for just a second before knocking.  

Part of you hoped—no, expected—that when he answered the door, he’d look at least a little more relaxed than he had earlier. Maybe the stiffness in his shoulders would be gone. Maybe he’d be in something softer, a hoodie instead of that ever-present button-up. Maybe—dare you dream—he’d actually be smiling.  

But when the door swung open, it was immediately clear that reality had other plans.  

Crowe stood in the doorway, his hair once again was an absolute wreck—not the effortless kind of messy that turned heads, but the kind that screamed, ‘I’ve run my hands through it too many times out of frustration.’ A furrow was etched deep between his brows, and his usual sharp posture was stiff like he was physically bracing against the weight of his responsibilities.

And—oh, fantastic—a folder was tucked under his arm, looking as though it had permanently fused to him at this point.  

You exhaled through your nose. Of course.

Yet, despite the exhaustion written all over him, something in his expression softened when he registered it was you at the door. The tightness in his shoulders didn’t fully disappear, but there was the faintest tug of a smile at the corners of his lips—tired but real.  

“What’s with the face?” you asked dryly, raising an eyebrow as he stepped aside, silently motioning you in.  

“I’m fine,” he replied automatically, the words so robotic and rehearsed that you almost laughed.  

“Right. And I’m the student council president,” you deadpanned, stepping inside and crossing your arms. “You look like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. Again.”  

“Funny thing about the student council president,” Crowe muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he shut the door behind you. “It turns out he can, and will, dump work on me at all hours. Apparently, I’m not allowed to have a life outside any paperwork.”  

Crowe allowed you inside, leading you up the sleek, polished staircase to his bedroom. As he pushed open the door, you were immediately struck by how effortlessly luxurious it felt—like stepping into a five-star suite rather than your living space.  

The room was spacious, barely lit by the warm glow of a single overhead light and a tall, modern floor lamp near his desk. The walls were painted a deep, muted blue, the color rich yet understated. But it was the bed that truly caught your attention—elaborate and inviting, draped in dark blue satin sheets that gleamed subtly under the soft lighting.

The bedding was pristine and neatly arranged with thick pillows and a comforter that looked like it belonged in a high-end catalog rather than a broke college student apartment.  

And yet, despite the undeniable elegance of the space, the desk against the far wall told a completely different story.  

Stacked with an obscene number of papers, open binders, and what you were pretty sure was the same coffee cup from this morning, his desk looked like a war zone of responsibilities. A sleek laptop sat open, its screen casting a faint glow over the scattered documents, and a small, gold-rimmed clock ticked quietly beside a stack of folders. 

The faint scent of ink and paper lingered in the air, mixing with the rich undertones of expensive cologne and the barely-there scent of cedarwood. The place had the distinct feel of someone who had been trapped inside for far too long—like a space meant for relaxation had been forcibly converted into an office.  

And honestly? That pissed you off a little.

You turned back to him with an unimpressed look, arms crossed as he carelessly tossed his folder onto the desk. “You invited me to hang out, and now you’re telling me I’m supposed to just sit here while you work?”  

“I’ll multitask,” he said with a faint smirk, already lowering himself into the sleek, leather chair at his desk like that settled the matter.  

You let out an exaggerated sigh, setting your bag down on the small couch tucked into the corner of the room. Of course, even his couch was high-end—dark velvet with a few neatly arranged cushions, barely touched, like it was there for decoration rather than actual use.  

“Unbelievable,” you muttered. “What a great person you are. Let me guess, next you’re going to ask me to fetch you coffee?”  

Crowe didn’t look up, but you caught the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “If you’re offering.”  

You rolled your eyes before reaching into your bag and pulling out the carefully packed cheesecake you had brought. With deliberate flair, you set it on the small wooden table near the couch, ensuring the movement was just noticeable enough to break Crowe’s focus.  

And to your satisfaction, it worked.  

From his place at the desk, Crowe’s eyes flicked up, momentarily distracted from the mountain of papers in front of him. His gaze landed on the dessert, his brow raising slightly. “Is that… blueberry cheesecake?” 

You shot him a smug grin. “It is. And not just any cheesecake—blueberry wine-glazed cheesecake. Only the best.” 

Crowe’s lips twitched, almost forming a real smile, but as his gaze flicked back to the cheesecake, hesitation crept into his expression. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “Wait… you said wine-glazed?”  

You raised an eyebrow, already sensing where this was going. “Yeah? It’s just a glaze, Crowe. It’s not like I’m trying to get you drunk off dessert.”  

He exhaled, glancing between you and the cheesecake as if debating whether he should risk it. “Still…” His fingers tapped idly against the arm of his chair. “…I don’t know if I should.”  

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face before throwing him an exasperated look. “Crowe. It’s cheesecake. Not a bottle of aged whiskey.”  

His eyes narrowed slightly, but the reluctant amusement in them told you he wasn’t completely opposed. He just wanted to be difficult.  

“You’re seriously overthinking this,” you added, crossing your arms. “One bite won’t turn you into a lawless delinquent, I promise. It’s just something to help you relax for once.”  

Crowe exhaled slowly, glancing at the dessert once more before shaking his head with a smirk. “Sorry but no, I need to work—because if I suddenly start making reckless decisions, it’s your fault.”  

“Oh, please.” With a scoff, you pushed yourself up from the plush velvet couch, smoothing your hands over the soft fabric before stretching lazily. “I’ll be right back.” Crowe barely acknowledged your movement, too focused on whatever tedious task he was drowning in.  

Perfect.  

You slipped out of his bedroom, padding down the sleek hallway and down the grand staircase that led to the main floor. The house was eerily quiet, save for the faint ticking of an ornate grandfather clock positioned near the entrance. Of course, he had something so unnecessarily extravagant in his house. You shook your head, making your way toward the kitchen.  

And, unsurprisingly, even his kitchen looked like it belonged in some high-end interior design magazine—black marble countertops, dark mahogany cabinets, and sleek, modern appliances that gleamed under the warm glow of overhead lighting. The air carried the faintest scent of coffee, no doubt from whatever caffeine-fueled disaster had taken place earlier that morning.  

You pulled open a drawer, rummaging through its neatly arranged contents until you found the gold forks—because, of course, even his utensils were unnecessarily fancy, polished to a pristine shine. You hesitated for a second, eyeing the wine bottle in your other hand. You could technically be a menace and grab another fork just for him, despite his earlier protests, just to see if he’d cave.  

A slow smirk curled at your lips as you picked up another fork and then made your way back upstairs.  

By the time you reentered Crowe’s bedroom, he was exactly as you left him—hunched over his desk, a hand buried in his long brown tousled hair, muttering something under his breath as he scribbled furiously onto a page. His laptop cast a faint glow across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, and the way his brows furrowed with quiet frustration.  

You shook your head in fond exasperation, setting the forks onto the small wooden table—top of a paper towel near the couch with deliberate flair. The sound of metal forks against wood was just loud enough to pull his attention away from whatever crisis was currently occupying his mind.  

His gaze flickered to you, then to the newly placed items, and finally, to the bottle of wine you were already uncorking with far too much enthusiasm.  “You don’t take ‘no cake for me’ seriously, do you?” he asked dryly, watching as you handed him a fork, which he took. You raised an eyebrow, swirling the liquid slowly before taking a deliberate sip. “Oh, I heard you,” you mused. “I just chose to ignore it.”  

Crowe exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly, but there was no real irritation in his expression—if anything, the corners of his lips twitched upward, like he was fighting off a smile.  

You handed him a fork, gesturing toward the cheesecake. “Now, be a good boy and eat before I start burning your paperwork.”  

That earned you a full, amused huff of laughter. “You wouldn’t.”  

“Oh, I would,” you said smugly, already reaching for the nearest document with mischief glinting in your eyes.  

And just like that, for the first time that evening, Crowe finally relented. With a quiet sigh of defeat, he grabbed his fork, cutting into the cheesecake with a small shake of his head.  

“Happy now?” he muttered, bringing a bite to his lips.  

You grinned, raising your fork in victory. “Ecstatic.”  

Later on, You ended up sitting in Crowe’s bed, which, honestly, wasn’t part of the original plan. You’d offered—very generously, might you add—to just sit on the floor, but Crowe wasn’t having it. And of course, that turned into a whole thing. A full-blown back-and-forth argument that went nowhere because, shocker, Crowe won.

So now here you were, cross-legged on his bed, scrolling through your phone while eating cheesecake like it was just another day.

Meanwhile, Crowe was buried in paperwork, signing off on whatever ridiculous event proposals students had cooked up this time.

Between the scribbling of his pen and the occasional tap of your phone screen, the two of you fell into an easy rhythm of conversation—nothing deep, just the usual random nonsense that somehow never failed to keep things interesting. 

You could say literally the most out-of-pocket thing, and Crowe would have an opinion on it. 

“You think pigeons ever feel bad about stealing people’s food?” 

“No. They’re menaces.” 

“What about geese?” 

“Demons in feathered form.” 

It went on like that for a while, but then, out of nowhere, Crowe, still focused on his paperwork, casually muttered, “If you end up drunk, you can stay here.” 

You blinked, glancing up from your phone. “Huh?” 

“I have hangover pills for situations like these,” he added as if that was just normal information to throw out there. 

You squinted at him, completely lost as last time you checked—he didn’t drink. “Crowe, sir, what the hell do you have those for?” 

He didn’t even hesitate. “They’re normally for my mother.” 

Oh. 

…Well damn. That changed the vibe.  

You suddenly found a very interesting spot on the wall to look at, your brain screaming at you to not ask any follow-up questions. Just let it slide, move on, talk about geese again— 

“…How come?” Damn it.

Crowe paused mid-signature, his pen hovering over the paper for a second too long. He didn’t immediately answer, which only made the air feel heavier. You shifted a little on his bed, suddenly regretting asking. But at the same time, you had to know. 

Finally, he exhaled through his nose, setting his pen down and leaning back slightly. “She’s a businesswoman,” he said simply like that explained everything.  

It kind of did.  

You nodded slowly. “Ah. So… business meetings, long nights, expensive wine, and regrettable choices?”  

“Basically,” he said, rubbing his temple. “She doesn’t get wasted often, but when she does, it’s always a mess. It’s better to just have something on hand so she doesn’t call me at two in the morning complaining about a headache and demanding I fix it.” 

You raised an eyebrow, resting your chin in your hand. “So what I’m hearing is… you’re the designated babysitter for your mom when she goes too hard on the fancy liquor.” 

Crowe gave you a flat look. “I wouldn’t call it that.”  

“But I would.” You grinned, taking another bite of your cheesecake. “Imagine that. Big, serious Crowe, the man who runs student council like a military operation, reduced to fetching electrolyte drinks and aspirin for his drunk mom.”  

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly like he was reevaluating all his life choices. “You are so lucky I tolerate you.”  

“Tolerate? Please. You’d be bored out of your mind without me.”  

Crowe rolled his eyes, but you didn’t miss the way the corner of his lips almost twitched up. Almost. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”  

You smirked, then gestured toward his desk. “Speaking of you tolerating me, when are you actually gonna stop working? Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve been signing papers for the last hour and I’m starting to think you might be stuck in an endless loop.”  

“I’ll be done when I’m done,” he muttered, flipping to the next page.  

You squinted at him. “Liar. You never finish. The work just keeps coming.”  

Crowe didn’t deny it. He just let out a long sigh, rubbing his temple again. You could tell he was exhausted but too damn stubborn to stop.  

So, naturally, you had to push a little.  

“Y’know,” you started, setting your plate aside and stretching out on his bed dramatically, “I’m not a heavy drinker. I won’t get drunk.”

Crowe quickly said, “That’s what you said last time.”

“Blame Britt, she needed someone to take shots with at that club.” You sighed, “But If I look drunk, there’s a chance I might be pretending.” You mentioned. “Why,” Crowe asked. “…I’ll be able to get the tender loving care of a certain man.”

Crowe somewhat blushed, then added. “And If I’m the one who gets drunk, will you look after me? Or will you let me fend for myself?”

“Ehhh, that depends. What kind of drunk are you?” You gave Crowe a pointed look, lazily kicking your legs back and forth. “’Cause remember when Britt got wasted after we passed our exams and threw up in the car?” You grimaced at the memory. “Still sorry about that, by the way.”

Crowe, who had been signing something, paused and flicked his eyes up at you. “There are different types of drunk?”

You snorted. “Uh, yeah. There are levels to this, Crowe.” You started counting on your fingers. “Tipsy, somewhat affectionate—y’know, the giggly, slightly dumb but still functioning stage. Then there’s a buzz, which is what I usually am. A nice little warm feeling, maybe a little too honest, but still got control.”

Crowe raised an eyebrow. “And then?”

“Oh, it just gets worse from there.” You grinned. “There’s sloshed, where your words start slurring, and you start thinking you can dance when, in reality, you cannot.” You pointed at him. “Britt was sloshed. Then there’s blacked out, which—self-explanatory. Bad decisions are made. Regret is guaranteed.”

Crowe hummed, going back to his papers. “Lovely.”

“Oh, we’re not done,” you continued, thoroughly enjoying this. “Then you got aggressive drunks—you know, the ones who suddenly wanna fight everyone, including their own reflection. Confident drunks, which are honestly my favorite ‘cause they act like they own the place and think they’re hot shit. Sad drunks—kinda self-explanatory. They cry about their ex, their childhood, or how the bartender didn’t smile at them enough.”

Crowe sighed like he already regretted indulging this conversation. “And?”

“The two everyone really looks out for are lightweights and heavyweights.” You leaned forward a little, smirking. “I used to be somewhere in the middle, but, uh… college happened. And Britt happened. So now I’m lowkey more of a heavyweight.”

Crowe set his pen down and gave you that look. The one that was half disappointed professor, half exasperated parent. “Really.”

You shrugged. “What can I say? I build tolerance fast.”

Crowe pinched the bridge of his nose. “That is not something to be proud of.”

You waved him off. “Anyway, what about you? Heavyweight or lightweight?” You already knew the answer, but you wanted to hear him say it.

Crowe let out a slow breath, glancing at you like he was debating whether to humor you or just ignore you entirely. Then, with a sigh, he muttered, “I have work to do.”

You gasped dramatically. “Avoiding the question? That means you’re a lightweight, doesn’t it?”

He didn’t respond.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, grinning. “Crowe, do you get tipsy off one drink? Is that why you don’t go out? Are you—”

He gave you a look. A very pointed, very shut up before I actually throw you out look.

You just cackled. “Yeah, alright. Go back to work, lightweight.”

Soon after, it didn’t take long for Crowe to start feeling something—not that he’d ever admit it. You had finished your slice—even had another one without issue, enjoying every bite while Crowe had been more hesitant, taking small, slow bites as if waiting for some dramatic effect to kick in. And, to your delight, it did.   

He shifted in his chair, rolling his shoulders as if trying to shake off the odd sensation creeping up on him. His usually sharp gaze had softened just a bit, and though he kept his expression neutral, you didn’t miss the way his fingers drummed against the desk a little too loosely or the way he exhaled through his nose, slower than usual.  

You smirked. “Feeling okay over there?” 

Crowe shot you a flat look, but there was something off about it—like his focus wasn’t entirely there. “I’m fine.” You tilted your head, scrutinizing him. His dark brown skin had taken on a noticeable flush, heat blooming over his cheekbones and creeping down his neck.

 You knew that look.  

“Oh my god,” you gasped, leaning forward with barely contained laughter. “You’re lightweight, aren’t you?” Crowe blinked, frowning slightly before scoffing. “No.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated. “It’s just warm in here.”  

You bit your lip, trying to stifle your amusement. “Crowe, this is embarrassing. I ate the same cheesecake on my third slice, and I feel fine.” He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening for a second before he muttered, “You have an unfair advantage.”  

You grinned. “No wonder you avoid alcohol like the plague. You can’t hold your liquor.” Crowe furrowed his brows at your mocking tone, his face turning into a bit of a pout.

"I can hold my liquor," he grumbled, though the faint tinge in his face betrayed his words. He shifted in his seat slightly, crossing his arms defensively. "I just don't see the appeal of losing my inhibitions and making a fool of myself. Unlike some people."

Your expression turned into a smirk, tone still just as condescending.

"Ah, the classic excuse." Your gaze remained fixed on him with a hint of judgment. "Inhibitions are what make us human, you know. Or perhaps you fear the idea of letting go and having a little fun."

Crowe bristled at your words, a slight frown tugging at his lips.

"I'm not afraid of having fun," he retorted, his voice betraying a hint of defensiveness. "I simply prefer to maintain control over my actions. I see no need for losing myself to something as shallow as alcohol."

He let out a scoff. 

"Besides, true fun can be had without the need for impairment."

You let out a short, derisive laugh. "Ah, yes. The need to control everything around you, even your fun. How incredibly dull of you." She leaned closer, her expression a mix of mockery and superiority.

"But tell me, Princess, do you ever truly feel alive, or is your life merely an endless cycle of monotony and self-imposed discipline?"

"Oh, please." Crowe rolled his eyes at your mockery. "Just because I don't partake in mind-numbing substances doesn't mean my life lacks excitement. I simply find joy in more meaningful pursuits." He crossed his arms, his expression hardening. "Unlike some, I don't rely on alcohol or other substances to feel alive. My life is filled with purpose and discipline, and I take pride in that."

You tilted your head, the smirk still dancing on your lips.

"Purpose and discipline…?” she drawled. "I bet you take pride in your ability to follow routines like a well-trained dog, too."

“Excuse me?” Crowe frowned, his voice sharp as he watched you lean closer, sensing the shift in the air.

You didn’t back down. “Jericho,” you said, using his real name with a seriousness that seemed to catch him off guard. “I’ve been your assistant for the past two weeks now, and I’m starting to notice something. You let the student council—and even the president—treat you like a dog, and I see the expression on your face every time. Pure irritation.” 

You shifted and hopped onto his desk, sitting beside him, your legs casually swinging back and forth as you watched him try to suppress his usual annoyance. 

Crowe’s frown deepened, his hand tightening on the paperwork as he visibly tried to keep his composure. You could almost see the gears grinding behind his eyes, a mix of irritation and something else, something less guarded. 

"I’m aware of the circumstances," he said, voice tight but still trying to assert some control, "and I can handle the student council just fine. I… I’m fine with it. Really." He trailed off, and his words faltered. You could tell he was trying to convince himself more than you. The bravado was fading as his frustration bled into something more vulnerable, something he didn’t want to admit out loud.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning in just a little closer. “Oh, I don’t doubt that you can handle things, Jericho. But here’s the thing—you’ve been avoiding something for a while. And it’s not just the paperwork.”

He didn’t meet your gaze, his eyes flicking away as he shifted uneasily in his chair. He didn’t like where this conversation was going, that much was obvious.

“Look, I get it. You’re used to doing everything by yourself, keeping things together, and letting everyone walk all over you if it means getting things done. But that doesn’t mean you have to take it. And it definitely doesn’t mean you’re okay with it,” you said, leaning forward, voice low but firm. You saw the way he struggled to keep his walls up, the cracks widening. 

“I appreciate your concern,” he muttered, barely audible, “but I can handle everything. I really don’t mind being treated like a dog.”

Your smirk faltered just a bit, and a hint of seriousness crept into your tone. “Hm, now I know you’re not the buzzed type…” you murmured, thoughtfully. “You say you don’t mind… but I can sense there’s more to it than just handling things. You’re avoiding my gaze for a reason, after all.”

Crowe didn’t respond right away, his eyes avoiding yours, but the tension in the air was palpable. You could feel his discomfort growing, but there was something else, too—a sense of reluctance mixed with a desire for something else, something you both knew he wasn’t willing to admit yet.

You sighed heavily, making sure to add some extra dramatic flair before stepping closer. His desk, though structured, had a certain worn-in look, the wood slightly dulled from constant use, with scattered notes and open folders sprawled across its surface. The lamp at the corner cast long, soft shadows, adding a golden warmth to the otherwise sterile, paper-filled workspace.  

You crouched beside his chair and gestured toward his feet. “Move.” 

Crowe blinked down at you, finally breaking his focus. His brows furrowed. “What—?”  

You didn’t give him a chance to retreat into his shell. Instead, you were now kneeling down in front of him, slipping under the desk with the kind of confidence that said ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ “I’m going to see if you’ll actually let me help,” you said, your voice light but insistent, “because right now? You think you don’t need anything from anyone. But I’m betting you’ll let me assist you. And I’m going to find out just how much you really don’t mind.”  

The air between you shifted, thick with unspoken tension, as Crowe’s jaw tightened. You could almost see the internal battle raging within him—the need to keep control, to not rely on anyone, fighting against the small, desperate part of him that did need help, that did want something different. Something softer, something less exhausting.

“Stop acting like you can do everything by yourself, Jericho," you said gently, yet firmly. “Let me help. Please.”

His eyes flicked down to where you were kneeling in front of him, his throat working as if he were trying to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. You didn’t move, letting the silence stretch just long enough for him to feel the weight of your presence. You were here, offering, and this time, you weren’t going to back off.

“I’m not going to bite, I promise.” You smiled, though it was a soft, knowing grin—one that suggested you could see right through the mask he wore.

For a moment, he said nothing, just staring at you like you’d asked him to do the impossible. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, His deep blue eyes flickered with something unreadable—something between exasperation and tiredness.  

Then, finally, his shoulders and arms sagged, just a little, and he let out a quiet, resigned sigh. “Fine. Okay. You win. Help me, then.”

Still kneeling on the floor, you tilted your head slightly, your eyes locked onto his with a mischievous glint that told him you weren’t backing down anytime soon. You let your gaze linger a little longer than necessary, unwavering and unblinking, before slowly shifting closer, inching just enough to make your presence impossible to ignore.

You could feel the tension building between you two, a palpable electricity in the air, and you were loving every second of it.

“Y’know, as your assistant,” you began, your voice dripping with playful sarcasm, “all I’ve done is watch you mistreat me, running errands, picking up the slack... I mean, I barely get a ‘thank you’ for anything.” You leaned in just a little more, making sure he could feel the weight of your words.

It was a total lie, of course. He doesn’t actually mistreat you, but you loved getting under his skin, watching the way he reacted to your teasing. The slight furrow of his brow, the tension that flickered in his jaw—he was trying so hard not to take the bait.

Before he could respond, you lightly placed a hand on his thigh, just above the knee, your fingers barely grazing his skin. You could practically feel the sharp intake of breath he took, his body going rigid under your touch.

“You really should show your assistant some gratitude,” you added, your voice low, almost a whisper. “Or... maybe I’ll start taking advantage of the fact that I know exactly how much you don’t want help.”  

His eyes flickered to your hand, then back up to your face, but he didn’t move. His lips pressed into a thin line, clearly debating whether to stay stoic or snap at you. But you could tell that you were getting to him—just a little. 

You were testing him. And so far? You were winning.

You felt it instantly—the way his muscles tensed beneath the fabric of his pants, his entire body going rigid for just a fraction of a second. His smirk, always so confident, faltered—just barely. Instead, he regarded you with something sharper now, something closer to curiosity than irritation. “Oh?” he mused, his voice dipping into a lower register, sending a slow ripple of heat down your spine.  

"I don't treat you badly," he protested, though his voice had an edge to it—strained, like he was trying very hard not to focus on the placement of your hand. “I always make sure to take care of you, even when I’m busy…”  

You chuckled slyly, inching closer so that you were practically hovering over him now. Your fingers traced absentmindedly along his thigh, feather-light but deliberate, as you tilted your head and gave him a teasing, knowing look.  

"Oh, Crowe," you crooned, drawing out his name, savoring the way his jaw clenched in response. “That’s not enough. And you don’t reward me ‘nearly’ enough."  

His breath hitched for the smallest moment, but he recovered quickly, exhaling sharply through his nose. Almost a laugh—almost. His eyes flickered with something unreadable, something restrained, but the corners of his lips twitched upward in spite of himself.  

"Rewards, huh?" he murmured, the words slow, measured. He leaned back slightly in his chair, though his gaze never left yours, locked in a silent battle of wills.

You could feel the weight of his stare, the way his fingers tightened slightly around the papers he had been holding—forgotten now, unimportant. 

You had his attention. Completely.

"And what exactly do you think you deserve as a reward, huh?" Crowe asked, tilting his head slightly, his tone deceptively casual, but his body language betraying him. You paused, considering his question, letting the moment between you.

What could you ask for?

What did you want from him?

Your fingers, still resting on his thigh, tapped once—thoughtful, teasing. "Well," you mused, lips curling at the edges as you leaned in just a fraction closer. "That depends. Are you finally done with work?"

Crowe exhaled sharply, the sound unmistakable as he shook his head—a familiar gesture that meant he was about to endure something he definitely wasn’t looking forward to. You could see the frustration in the way his shoulders slumped slightly as if bracing for the inevitable storm that was coming his way. But before he could even open his mouth to express his exasperation—

His phone rang.

Shit maybe you don’t have his attention like you thought 

You didn’t need to check the screen to know who was calling. The ringtone had become so ingrained in your memory, it was practically a soundtrack to your time spent in the student council room. You could’ve recognized it in the dead of night, half-asleep and groggy.

But you still raised an eyebrow, curious despite yourself. “Who is it?”

“The student President…” Crowe muttered, barely a glance at the phone before he visibly grimaced.

Without skipping a beat, you leaned over his thigh and nudged him, giving him that determined look that meant ‘this was happening whether he liked it or not.’ “Pick it up.”

He shot you a look of disbelief. “What now?”

“Yes. Pick it up.”

Crowe hesitated for just a second, clearly torn between his usual aversion to the student council President’s calls and the sense of duty that always seemed to take over.

You could practically feel the battle within him: to pick up and face whatever nonsense was about to unfold or to pretend he hadn’t heard it ringing and hoped it went away. But, of course, he didn’t choose the latter. 

With an exaggerated sigh, Crowe picked up the phone, his fingers brushing over the screen like it was a ticking bomb. 

Above you, Crowe cleared his throat, the sound sharp and professional—the tone he always used when he was in full ‘I-have-to-do-this’ mode. It was crisp and controlled, but there was a thin thread of tension that clung to the edges of his voice, betraying the fact that he was anything but relaxed.

“President,” Crowe greeted, his voice polite but tight, like he was holding back the urge to snap. "Didn’t realize you were gonna call so late."

You could practically feel the irritation dripping off him, but he kept it buried under that forced professional tone. If the student council president had any clue how much Crowe was dreading this call, they sure weren’t showing it. Crowe shifted in his seat, like he was bracing for whatever nonsense the student council president was about to throw his way.

You almost felt bad for him—almost—but let’s be real, he was the one who willingly signed up for this madness.

Still, you had a feeling this call was gonna drag on a lot longer than either of you wanted. Your heart was hammering as you pressed your head flat against Crowe’s lap, barely breathing, just waiting—again for this stupid call to be over.

Every inch of you was aware of how close you were, and it was making it hard to focus on anything else. You tried to keep your breathing steady, but it was way too hard when Crowe’s leg was right there, brushing against you. 

On the other end, the student president’s voice—sharp and already full of annoyance—came through loud and clear. "It’s about the upcoming budget meeting. You didn’t submit the finalized report yet."

Crowe let out an exaggerated sigh from above, and you could feel the shift in his chair like it was trying to rattle your very bones. You clenched your jaw, trying not to squirm as you felt the brush of his knee against your shoulder. It definitely felt deliberate, like he was trying to mess with you, making it impossible for you to get comfortable. 

You swallowed down the discomfort and forced yourself to stay still, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you react. 

"It’s almost done," Crowe said, smooth as butter, his voice way too casual for how much of a lie it was. "I was just in the middle of… reviewing it."

Such a liar. You rolled your eyes internally. 

"Good," the student president replied, clearly distracted by whatever papers they were rifling through. “I need it by tonight. No excuses.”

Your stomach dropped. You held your breath, teetering on the edge of panic as Crowe leaned forward, his lower body inching closer to yours. He reached for something on his desk, and suddenly, the space between you felt way too small. 

Like, way too small. It was suffocating, but you didn’t move. 

You couldn’t. 

…Right?

“Noted,” Crowe said, his voice only slightly strained. You could hear the tension in it, though, and it made your pulse spike. 

The student president sighed on the other end of the phone call, oblivious to the chaos unfolding in Crowe’s office. “I don’t know how you manage all this paperwork, Ichabod. You’d think with your assistant, things would be more efficient.”

You nearly choked. Excuse me?

Crowe let out an amused huff, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Yeah, well. Sometimes, they can be a handful.” 

Your eye twitched. Oh, he did not just say that. That smug little—oh, he was so not getting away with this. 

From under the desk, you moved quickly, your fingers darting to his pants. You undid the buttons with practiced ease, then unzipped them, pulling them down to his thighs. And then—oh. 

Oh~

The first thing you saw was the massive tent in his briefs, and you almost choked on your own saliva. How was he even walking like that?

“Hey—what are you—what are you doing—?” Crowe hissed, his voice low and frantic. You glanced up at him, and the look on his face was priceless. His jaw was tight, his dark blue eyes wide, and there was this desperate, pleading expression that screamed, ‘Don’t you dare.’ 

But oh, you dared. 

You brought a hand to him hesitantly, your fingers brushing over the fabric of his briefs. The second you started palming him, Crowe let out this low, shaky sigh that he barely managed to stifle. How the hell was he already this hard? And why did that make your stomach flip in the best way possible?

You could feel him twitch under your touch, and you bit your lip to keep from grinning. This was payback, plain and simple. He wanted to call you a ��handful’? 

Fine. You’d show him exactly what that meant.

Crowe’s voice was strained as he tried to keep his composure on the phone. “Yes. I’ll—uh—make sure to follow up on that.” 

You smirked, your fingers slipping under the waistband of his briefs. Crowe’s breath hitched, and he shot you a look that was equal parts warning and begging. But you weren’t about to stop now. Not when he was squirming like this, not when you had him right where you wanted him.

“Crowe?” the student president’s voice crackled through the phone. “Are you still there?”

“Y-yes,” Crowe stammered, his voice tight. “Just—uh—just dealing with something. Urgently.”

You stifled a laugh, your hand wrapping around him fully now. Crowe’s head tipped back slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. He was trying so hard to keep it together, but you could see the cracks forming. His free hand gripped the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white, and you could feel the way his body tensed under your touch.

Crowe was trying to focus. 

Keyword: trying. 

But you were making it impossible.

You had one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, your fingers teasing the sensitive skin there, while your other hand cupped his balls, gently massaging them in a way that made his leg twitch under the desk. You kissed the tip of him, soft and teasing, and when you glanced up at him, his jaw was clenched so tight you thought it might crack.

“Yes, President,” Crowe said, his voice strained but impressively steady. “I’ll make sure the budget report is finalized by—” He cut off with a sharp inhale as you dragged your tongue along the length of him, slow and deliberate. His free hand slammed down on the desk, and you could see his fingers trembling.

You smirked, your lips curling around him as you took him deeper, your tongue flicking against the underside of his cock. Crowe’s breath hitched, and he quickly cleared his throat, trying to cover the sound. “Apologies,” he said, his voice tight. “Just—uh—just a bit of a cough.”

You almost laughed at that, but you were too busy enjoying the way his thighs tensed under your hands. You pulled back, letting him slip from your mouth with a soft pop, and then—because you were feeling extra mean—you slapped his cock against your cheek a couple of times, the sound muffled but still way too loud in the quiet space.

Crowe’s eyes snapped down to you, wide and panicked, and you gave him your best innocent look before leaning in to lick a slow stripe up his length. His hand shot out, tangling in your hair, but he didn’t push you away. No, he just held on, his grip tightening as you took him into your mouth again, deeper this time.

“Ichabod?” the student president’s voice came through the phone, sharp and impatient. “Are you even listening?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Crowe managed, though his voice was definitely higher-pitched than usual. “Just—uh—just reviewing the numbers.”

You hummed around him, the vibration making his hips jerk involuntarily. He bit down on his lip to stifle a groan, but you could still hear it, low and desperate. You pulled back again, your lips brushing against the tip of his cock as you looked up at him, your eyes wide and innocent.

“You’re doing so good,” you mouthed, your voice silent but your meaning crystal clear. Crowe’s face flushed a deep red, and he quickly looked away, his jaw tightening as he tried—and failed—to focus on the phone call. His free hand, the one not clutching the phone, gripped the edge of his desk so hard you thought the wood might splinter.

You didn’t let up.

Instead, you ducked your head again, taking him deeper this time, your throat relaxing around him as you swallowed him down. Crowe’s hand tangled in your hair, his fingers tightening almost reflexively, and you could feel the way his body tensed, the way he fought to keep his hips still. 

He was a losing battle, and you knew it. 

You could feel the subtle shift in his muscles, the way his control was slipping with every flick of your tongue, every slow, deliberate movement of your lips.

“President,” Crowe said, his voice strained, “I think we might need to—ah—to reschedule this call.”

You smirked around him, your tongue flicking against that sensitive spot just under the head of his cock. Crowe’s breath hitched, and he let out a shaky exhale that he barely managed to stifle. You could feel the way his thighs trembled under your hands, the way his entire body was teetering on the edge.

“Reschedule?” the president snapped, his tone incredulous. “Ichabod, this is important. We don’t have time for—”

But Crowe wasn’t listening anymore.

His hips bucked forward involuntarily, his cock hitting the back of your throat, and you could feel the way his body shuddered, the way he lost control for just a second. 

It was all you needed. 

You hummed softly, the vibration making him twitch in your mouth, and you could feel the way his resolve was crumbling. His hand in your hair tightened, pulling just enough to make your scalp tingle, and you could hear the way his breathing grew ragged, uneven.

“I—uh—apologize, sir,” Crowe managed to choke out, his voice tight and unsteady. “Something… urgent has come up.”

You didn’t let him finish. 

Instead, you pulled back slightly, just enough to swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock before taking him deep again, your throat working around him. Crowe’s head tipped back, a low groan escaping his lips before he could stop it, and you could feel the way his body was trembling, the way he was barely holding it together.

The student president was still talking, his voice sharp and impatient, but Crowe wasn’t hearing a word of it. His focus was entirely on you, on the way your mouth felt around him, on the way you were driving him absolutely insane. His hips bucked again, this time more deliberately, and you could feel the way his control was slipping, the way he was losing himself in the sensation.

“I’ll—ah—call you back,” Crowe said abruptly, his voice rough and strained. He didn’t even wait for a response before he ended the call, tossing the phone onto his desk with a clatter.

The second the call was over, his hand in your hair tightened, and he pulled you off him just enough to look down at you, his eyes dark and blazing with need. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he growled, his voice low and rough.

You just smirked up at him, your lips still wrapped around him, and then you took him deep again, your throat relaxing as you swallowed him down. Crowe’s breath came out in a harsh exhale, and his hips jerked forward, his control completely gone now.

“Fuck,” Crowe muttered, his voice rough and strained, his hand tightening in your hair as he thrust into your mouth. His movements were desperate, almost frantic, like he was losing control and couldn’t stop himself.

You could feel the way his body trembled, the way his thighs tensed under your hands, and you knew he was teetering on the edge. 

You kept your pace steady, your lips wrapped tight around him, your tongue working against him in ways that made his breath hitch and his grip on your hair tighten almost painfully.

"Here I—"

Crowe didn’t get to finish his words.

His hips stuttered, his cock pulsing in your mouth as he came with a low, guttural groan. You swallowed half of it, the taste warm and salty, before pulling back just enough to let the rest spill across your lower face. A few streaks of white painted your chin and the corner of your mouth, and you looked up at him, your eyes never leaving his.

“I’m so sorry,” Crowe said, his voice hoarse, his chest still heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His hand loosened in your hair, his fingers brushing gently against your scalp as if to soothe the sting. But you just smirked, your tongue darting out to catch the cum at the edge of your face.

“It’s all good,” you said, your voice low and teasing, as you licked the last traces of him away. The way his eyes darkened at the sight, the way his jaw tightened like he was fighting the urge to pull you back in, only made your smirk widen.

When he finally stilled, his body limp and spent, you pulled back slowly, a satisfied smirk on your lips. Crowe slumped back in his chair, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady his breathing. He looked completely wrecked—his hair disheveled, his shirt rumpled and half-unbuttoned, his face still flushed with the aftermath of his release. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the faint tremble in his forearms.

“You’re lucky we didn’t get caught,” Crowe muttered, his voice low and gruff as he leaned back in his chair. He was trying to sound stern, but the way his eyes lingered on you—dark and hungry—gave him away. “Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if the student president had figured out what you were doing under my desk?”

You just shrugged, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, a sly grin spreading across your face. “At least I had your back, so he didn’t really hear anything. Besides, he sounded more pissed that you hung up on him than anything else.”

Crowe groaned, running a hand over his face like he was trying to wipe away the memory of the entire ordeal. But you could see the corner of his mouth twitch like he was fighting a smile. “You’re such a menace,” he said, though there was no real heat behind his words. His voice was soft, almost fond, and the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the room that mattered—made your stomach flip.

You stood, leaning against his desk, your grin widening. “You love it,” you shot back, your voice dripping with playful defiance. 

Crowe let out a low laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. “I really do,” he admitted, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper. 

You couldn’t help but notice how flushed Crowe’s face was, the deep red hue spreading across his cheeks and down his neck.

Was it from the way you’d just had him unraveling under your touch?

Or maybe it was the spiked cheesecake that you convinced him to indulge in earlier, the alcohol warming his veins and loosening his usual tight control. Honestly, it could’ve been both, and the thought made a smug little smile tug at your lips. 

Either way, you wanted him to relax, to let go of whatever tension was still coiled in his body.

“Do you need the hangover pills from your bathroom?” you asked, your voice soft but teasing as you tilted your head, studying him. You were half-turned toward the door, ready to fetch them if he said yes, but Crowe shook his head almost immediately.

“No,” he said, his voice rough, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I don’t need pills. I just need you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded, and before you could respond—before you could even process what he’d said—he reached for you. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist with a firmness that sent a shiver up your spine.

In one swift motion, he was on his feet, pulling you toward him with a force that made you stumble. You let out a surprised laugh, but it was cut short as you collided with his chest, his other arm snaking around your waist to steady you.

And then his lips were on yours, crashing into you with a hunger that left you breathless. The kiss was deep, demanding, almost possessive, and you melted into it without hesitation. His tongue slid against yours, and you could still taste him on your lips—a faint, lingering reminder of what you’d just done to him. It seemed to drive him wilder, his grip on you tightening as if he was afraid you’d pull away.

His hands roamed over your body like he needed to touch every inch of you, to remind himself that you were real, that you were his. One hand slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair as he cradled your head, holding you in place like he never wanted to let you go. The other hand stayed firmly on your hip, his fingers digging into your skin through the fabric of your clothes, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you.

You could feel the heat of him through his clothes, the way his body thrummed with restless energy like he was still riding the high of what had just happened. His chest rose and fell against yours, his breathing ragged, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart where your hand rested against him. 

It was intoxicating, the way he wanted you, the way he needed you, and you kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands sliding into his long, soft brown hair. His hair was silky between your fingers, and you tugged gently, earning a low groan from him that vibrated against your lips. 

The sound sent a thrill through you, and you deepened the kiss, your tongue sliding against his as you poured every ounce of your own desire into it. Crowe’s grip on you tightened, his body pressing into yours like he was trying to fuse the two of you together, and you could feel the evidence of his want pressing against your hip, hard and insistent.

The kiss was everything—hot, desperate, and full of unspoken promises. 

It was a collision of need and longing, a silent conversation that neither of you could put into words. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that left you breathless, his hands gripping you like you might disappear if he let go.

And when he finally broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his breath came in short, uneven gasps. You could see it in his eyes—the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, like you were his entire world.

Crowe laughed, the sound low and warm, and then he was kissing you again, softer this time but no less hungry. You let yourself get lost in him, your body leaning back until the edge of his desk stopped you from moving any further. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, his body pressing you firmly against the desk.

One hand braced on the surface beside you, trapping you in place, while the other stayed on your waist, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

When he finally released you, you could see the redness of his face, the flush spreading from his cheeks down to his neck. It was almost enough to make you laugh, and you couldn’t resist tapping your finger lightly on his nose. He blinked, taken aback by the playful gesture, and then a slow, mischievous smile spread across his face.

“It’s time to reward beloved assistant,” he said, his voice low and rough, before kissing you again. This time, it was fiercer, more demanding, and you barely had time to react before he was roughly pushing all the papers off his desk with one sweeping motion.

The sound of them scattering to the floor barely registered as he lifted you effortlessly, setting you down on the now-clear desk. His hands stayed on your thighs, his grip firm as he leaned over you, trapping you once again.

Crowe’s breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling as he hovered over you, his eyes dark with want. He was about to kiss you again, but you stopped him, placing a hand on his chest to hold him back.

“Crowe, you’re still drunk,” you said, your voice soft but firm. You cupped his face in your hands, your fingertips brushing over the soft skin of his cheeks. His eyes, usually so sharp and focused, were now clouded with a mix of desire and something deeper, something raw and vulnerable. “One slice of spiked cheesecake is all it takes for you to be someone else?” you teased, your fingertips grazing over his soft, parted lips.

As much as you adored Crowe, you didn’t want to take advantage of him in this state. He was always so composed, so in control, and seeing him like this—unraveled and needy—was both intoxicating and a little unsettling. 

Crowe’s breath hitched as he leaned into your touch, his lips pressing a kiss to your palm. “I wonder if you fed me that cake on purpose, you to take a break.” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “Did you want to see me like this?”

You almost laughed. 

Yeah, maybe you did. 

But you wouldn’t tell him that to his face.

“Who could’ve guessed a small amount of alcohol would get you this drunk?” you said instead, looking down as his hands traveled up your thighs, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His touch was electric, and you had to bite your lip to keep from gasping.

“I never allowed myself touch alcohol,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands stopped at your waist, his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin. “But for you, I broke that rule.”

“Crowe…” you mumbled, your arms wrapping around his neck as you tried to steady yourself. His proximity, his touch, the way he looked at you—it was all too much, and yet not enough.

“You said you wanted a reward,” he said, his eyes pleading as he leaned his head down into the crook of your shoulder. “Fuck, you’re so warm. You smell like you, and I can’t imagine anything more beautiful than the stars in the sky.”

Confident, may you add, needy drunk definitely.

You felt your breath catch as his lips brushed against your neck, his kisses soft and lingering. His hands moved back to your thighs, sliding up to your waist, and then under your shirt again, his fingers exploring the plush curve of your hips. Everywhere he touched, it felt like he was leaving a mark, branding you as his.

“You’ve been such a wonderful assistant,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with emotion. “As your so-called boss, let me reward you, starlight.” His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help the windchime laugh that escaped you, muffled against his chest. It made his heart flip-flop like a fish in the cavern of his ribs. 

“Crowe, please…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“If you want me, you can have me,” he said, his lips brushing against your shoulder. “In whichever way you want.”

In whichever way you want?

That was a dangerous offer, especially from someone like him. And you knew you’d take him up on it, again and again and again. But not like this. Not when he was drunk, his inhibitions lowered, his control slipping. 

You sighed, gently pushing against his chest to create some distance.“Jericho, you’re really drunk,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “I’ll get the hangover pills.”

But before you could slide off the desk, Crowe grabbed your arms, pulling you back onto the surface with a force that surprised you. “Are you trying to escape?” he asked, his voice tinged with frustration. “You keep saying I’m drunk. So, must I always stay sober?” He rested his head on your chest, his breath warm against your skin. “Because of you, everything is spiraling out of control. How can you pretend you’re not affected?”

Your eyes flickered away for a moment, your hand resting on his chest as you thought about his words. It was hard to say no to him, especially when he looked at you like that, when his touch set your skin on fire. But you didn’t want to push him into something he might regret later.

“Jericho…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible. You were torn, your resolve wavering under the weight of his need and your own desire. 

Fuck it. 

You were a little tipsy too.

Just a bit better at hiding it than him.

You kiss him with a softness that he thinks must come naturally to you, a tenderness that makes his chest ache in the best way. Crowe adores it, even as he feels a twinge of guilt for the way he wants to devour it, to take that softness and turn it into something wild and untamed. 

But for now, he lets himself sink into it, his lips moving against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm that quickly deepens. Lips give way to tongue, and then to teeth, his mouth nipping at your lower lip in a way that makes you gasp softly, your fingers tightening in his hair.

His hands know your skin like they’ve mapped it a thousand times before, and yet every touch feels new, electric. They’re everywhere at once, hot and aching as they slide under your clothes, exploring the curves of your body with a reverence that makes your breath hitch.

One hand slips up to your breast, cupping it gently, his thumb brushing over your nipple through the fabric of your top. The sensation is enough to make you arch into him, a gasp escaping your lips that he swallows down with another kiss.

Crowe takes his time with your layered tops—first the crop top, then the tank top—peeling them off you carefully, like he’s unveiling something sacred. His gaze never leaves you, his eyes dark and hungry as he drinks in the sight of you. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and then he’s leaning in, his mouth finding the spot right above your sternum, where he can feel the rapid flutter of your heartbeat beneath his lip as he removes your bra.

“So beautiful,” he mumbles into your skin, his voice low and rough with desire. His hands cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in slow, deliberate circles.

“The brightest star in my life,” he adds, his voice barely above a whisper, like he’s confessing something he’s held onto for too long. He tilts his head, capturing one nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around it as his hand slides under your back, fingers pressing into the dip of your spine. 

You arch into him instinctively, a soft moan escaping your lips as he takes his time, lavishing attention on your body despite the way his cock throbs painfully in his boxers—once again a bulge as pants were still unbutton. “Such a pretty star,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot. “So hot to the touch.”

His hands move to your hips, gripping you firmly as he lifts you by your ass, pulling your flared yoga pants down and off in one smooth motion. His eyes follow every movement, every inch of exposed skin, and you’re grateful for the dim lighting of the standing lamp near his desk.

It casts a warm glow over you, highlighting the curves of your body as you sit on top of his desk, completely at his mercy. His gaze is intense, almost reverent, as he takes you in, his hands sliding up your thighs with a touch that’s both possessive and tender. 

“Stay still, dearest,” he murmurs, his voice a low command that sends a shiver down your spine. His hands continue their exploration, fingers lacing through yours as they move over your hips, down to the waistband of your panties. He hooks his fingers into the fabric, pulling them down slowly, leaving you completely bare in front of him. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, his breath coming a little faster now.

But of course, you can’t let him have all the fun.

“No,” you say suddenly, your voice firm but playful, pushing Crowe away with your foot on his lower chest, slowly rubbing.

Crowe freezes, his head snapping up to look at you, his cheeks still flushed with desire. “No?” he asks, his voice tinged with surprise and a hint of amusement.

“Isn’t this my reward for being your assistant?” you ask, tilting your head as you give him a sly smile. “Shouldn’t I have a say in how this goes?”

His eyes widen for a moment, and then a smirk plays on his lips, his expression shifting from surprise to ‘of course, whatever you say.’

“My apologies, dearest,” he says, his voice soft but laced with teasing. “How selfish of me. Of course, it’s only fair that you have a say in this.” He steps closer, his hands resting on either side of you on the desk as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “So, what is it that you desire, my sweet star? You have my full attention. Just tell me what you want.”

There was one or maybe two things.

You were sprawled back on Crowe’s desk, the cool surface pressing into your skin as your legs fell open for him. 

The edge of the desk dug into your lower back, but the discomfort was a distant thought—completely overshadowed by the way Crowe was looking at you. His deep blue eyes were dark with hunger, his gaze raking over your body like he wanted to memorize every inch of you. His long brown hair was undone,messy, falling into his face as he leaned over you, and you couldn’t help but reach up to brush a strand away. He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm before letting it go, his lips curving into a smirk that made your stomach flip.

His hands slid up your thighs, his grip firm but not rough, like he was savoring the feel of you. He pushed your legs wider, settling himself between them, and you shivered as his fingers traced patterns on your skin, teasing and deliberate. His touch was electric, sending little shocks of pleasure through you, and you bit your lip to keep from begging him to hurry up.

But Crowe wasn’t one to rush. He took his time, leaning down to press a kiss to your inner thigh, his lips soft and warm against your sensitive skin. You gasped, your hands flying to his hair as he kissed his way up, his breath hot and uneven. Each kiss was slow, and deliberate, like he was mapping out every inch of you, and by the time he reached where you needed him most, you were already trembling.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, the words sending a thrill through you. And then his tongue flicked against clit, and you let out a strangled cry, your fingers tightening in his hair. He didn’t hold back, his mouth working you over with a skill that had you seeing stars, your hips lifting off the desk as you tried to get closer, to feel more.

But just as you were about to tip over the edge, he pulled back, leaving you gasping and desperate. You whined, your hands tugging at his hair, but he only chuckled, the sound dark and full of promise. “Not yet,” he said, his voice dripping with mischief. “You missed the best part.”

You groaned, your head falling back against the desk as you tried to catch your breath. Crowe straightened, you can heard him unbuttoning his shirt, then pulled down his boxers along with his pants.

Soon you felt his hands sliding up to grip your hips, and you could feel the heat of him as he positioned his cock at your entrance—which he slap his cock against your pussy, enough to make you jump little bit as you tried to mentally prepare yourself.

Crowe laugh softly, holding you, "Don’t worry," He started before opening your pussy with two fingers, "Just relax, right?"

That little cheeky asshole

Suddenly, he pushed in slowly, inch by agonizing inch, and you bit your lip to keep from crying out. He felt so good, stretching you, filling you completely, and when he finally bottomed out, you both let out a shaky breath.

“Fuck,” Crowe muttered, his head dropping forward as he tried to steady himself. His hands tightened on your hips, his thumbs brushing against your skin in a way that was almost soothing. “You feel so fucking incredible.”

You could only nod, your hands sliding up his arms to grip his shoulders as he started to move. His pace was slow at first, almost torturous, each thrust deep and deliberate. But then he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Just you.”

Crowe groaned, his pace quickening as he gave you exactly what you asked for—a rhythm that had you seeing stars. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he kissed you, deep and hungry.

His hands slid under your thighs, lifting your legs higher as he thrust into you, each movement deep and deliberate. You could feel the tension building in your body, your nails digging into his back—enough to almost leave marks as you tried to hold on.

And then, just as you were about to lose yourself completely, his phone rang.

The sound was jarring, pulling you both out of the moment, and Crowe let out a frustrated groan, stop completely. “Shit,” he muttered, glancing at the phone where it sat on the desk beside your head. He reached for it, his movements jerky and impatient, but when he saw the name on the screen—Student Council President—he hesitated.

“Answer it,” you moaned, your voice breathless and teasing. Your eyes met his, and you could see the conflict in his gaze—the way he wanted to ignore the call but knew he probably shouldn’t. “You know I can’t,” he said, his voice strained as he tried to keep his composure. 

But you didn’t care. 

You reached for the phone, your fingers brushing against his as you answered the call and handed it to him. “You’re just going to hang up? What if it’s something important?” you teased, your voice dripping with playful innocence.

Crowe shot you a look that was equal parts ‘I can’t believe you’re doing this to me’ and ‘I’m so into you it’s ridiculous.’ He sighed, running a hand through his hair before reluctantly bringing the phone to his ear, standing up straight. “What?” he snapped, his voice sharp and impatient, like he was already done with this conversation before it even started.

The student council president’s voice crackled through the phone, loud and unmistakably pissed. “Ichabod! What the hell was that earlier? You can’t just hang up on me like that! Do you have any idea how unprofessional—” 

Then, out of nowhere. With a playful annoyed sigh, your body to move, slamming yourself hard against Crowe.

He had to bite his lip to keep from moaning into the phone, however, your warm pussy clenching around cock—deep inside you, so warm, so fucking wet and bare— he wonders if he stretching you out in all of the right places.

You could feel the way his body tensed, the way he was trying to keep his voice steady while you were doing your absolute best to ruin him. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Unprofessional. Got it. Can we move on?”

“Move on?!” the student president screeched, his voice so loud you were pretty sure the neighbors could hear it. “You hung up on me in the middle of a very important discussion! Do you know how much paperwork I have to deal with because of you?!”

You couldn’t help it—you smirked, your fingers digging into Crowe’s arms as you rocked against him. He shot you a glare, but it was half-hearted at best, and you could see the way his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile. “Look,” he said, his voice strained as he tried to keep his composure, “I’ll… uh… I’ll get you the forms tomorrow, okay? Can we just—ah—drop this for now?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you could practically hear the president’s brain short-circuiting. “Are you… are you breathing weirdly? What’s wrong with you?”

Crowe’s eyes widened, and for a split second, he looked genuinely panicked—like a deer caught in headlights. His grip on your hips tightened, his body freezing as the president’s voice blared through the phone, sharp and accusatory.

But then, just as quickly as the panic had set in, it was gone. His expression shifted, an unfamiliar mask of cool composure sliding back into place. 

His voice dropped into that low, dangerous tone he used when he was about to shut someone down, the one that sent shivers down your spine even when it wasn’t directed at you.

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he said, his voice smooth and steady, though you could feel the way his body tensed beneath you. “I’m just… busy. Very busy. So if you’ll excuse me—”

“Busy doing what?!” the president yelled, their voice reaching a pitch that could probably shatter glass. “You’re supposed to be working, not—what are you even doing right now?!”

Crowe’s lips twitched, and you could see the exact moment the mischief sparked in his eyes. He looked down at you, his gaze dark and heated, and then he smirked. 

Uh oh. 

“Jericho—” you started, your voice a warning, but he cut you off with a deep, hungry kiss. His lips crashed against yours, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your head spin. The kiss was demanding, almost possessive, and you couldn’t help but melt into it, your hands tangling in his hair as he muffled your sounds. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with desire, his breathing ragged, and he gave you a wicked grin that made your stomach flip.

“Trust me,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “I need you to be loud for this.”

Before you could respond, he turned his attention back to the phone, his smirk widening as he brought it to his ear. “What am I doing?” he repeated, his tone dripping with faux innocence. “Oh, you know. Just… multitasking.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line, and then the president’s voice came through, louder and more incredulous than before. “Multitasking?! What does that even mean?!”

Crowe’s grin turned downright devilish, and you could feel the way his body vibrated with suppressed laughter. “This,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, and then he thrust deep inside you, hitting that spot that made your vision blur and your breath catch. 

You couldn’t help it—you moaned, loud and unrestrained, your nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure shot through you like a lightning bolt.

“Jericho!” you cried out, your voice breaking on his name, and he smirked, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he turned his attention back to the phone.

“You hear that?” he said, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm. “I’m busy fucking at the moment. Raw and deep. Something you’ll never get with those ugly-ass clothes of yours.”

Your eyes widened in shock, your mouth falling open as you stared at him. 

Did he really just say that? 

To the student council president? 

Your Crowe??

But before you could say anything, Crowe hung up and tossed the phone onto the desk, the device skidding across the surface before coming to a stop near the edge. “Jericho!” you hissed, your voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. “You did not just say that!” 

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and then he was kissing you again, his hands roaming over your body like he couldn’t get enough of you. “What?” he said, pulling back just enough to grin at you. 

“It’s true, plus you wanted this,” Crowe murmured, his voice low and rough, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned down to capture your nipple between his teeth. He bit down gently, just enough to make you gasp, before soothing the sting with his tongue, sucking and teasing until you were squirming beneath him.

His deep blue eyes locked onto yours, “There’s something undeniably addictive about stepping out of line,” he admitted, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “Maybe getting drunk was worth it. Especially fucking you at the end.”

You laughed breathlessly, the sound catching in your throat as he thrust into you again, his cock hitting that deep, sensitive spot that made your toes curl. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he fucked you with a relentless intensity that left you breathless. 

Every movement was deliberate, every stroke designed to drive you closer to the edge. You could feel the tension building in your body, your legs wrapping around his waist as you pulled him closer, desperate for more. “Crowe,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as you tried to hold on. “I’m close—”

“Come for me,” he growled, his voice low and commanding, and it was all you needed to tip over the edge. Your body trembled as pleasure washed over you in waves, your walls clenching around his cock as you fell apart. Crowe didn’t let up, continuing ramming his hips into yours as he chased his own release, his breath hot against your neck as he let out a low, guttural groan.

When he finally came, it was with a force that left you both shaking. His hips stuttered, his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled himself deep, his body collapsing against yours as he rode out the waves of pleasure. His breath was ragged, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath, and you could feel the way his heart raced against your chest.

For a moment, neither of you moved. 

The room was quiet, save for the soft, uneven rhythm of your breathing, the sound of your hearts still racing in sync. Crowe’s body was warm and heavy against yours, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. You could feel the way his fingers absently traced patterns on your skin, his touch gentle and lingering like he was memorizing every inch of you.

And then he lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, and the look he gave you—God, it made your chest ache. His gaze was dark, full of something raw and unguarded, a mix of affection and possessiveness that made your stomach flip. It was the kind of look that made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered, like you were his entire world.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his voice rough but tender, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“But what a way to go, right?” you teased, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back, feeling the way his muscles shifted under your touch.

Crowe laughed, the sound low and warm, and then he was kissing you again, his lips soft and lingering. It wasn’t the hungry, desperate kiss from before—this was something slower, sweeter, like he was savoring the taste of you. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm on your skin.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for ages,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Besides, my assistant wanted attention, and as the boss, I’m happy to provide.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face. “You’re such an idiot,” you said, your voice fond.

“Maybe,” he said, his lips brushing against yours in a way that made your breath hitch. “But I’m your idiot.”

And then he was kissing you again, his hands roaming over your body like he couldn’t get enough of you. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine as he traced every curve, every dip like he was trying to commit you to memory. “Forever yours,” he murmured against your lips, the words so soft they were almost lost in the space between you.

You laughed as you kissed him back, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. “So, what are you going to do now that you’ve probably been fired from the student council?” you asked, your tone light and teasing.

Crowe shrugged, a smirk spreading across his face. 

“Whatever my new boss tells me to do,” he said, his lips brushing against your palm as he kissed it. His eyes met yours, and the look he gave you was pure mischief. “And right now, you’re telling me to stay right here.” You grinned, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him in for another kiss. 

Good answer, assistant.

[wendichester]

I absolutely love your work! Could I request something where the reader is not the most active person, like... She doesn't like running, she's not fit, she's terrible at fighting. She maybe does research, but that's all. But she's good at picking clothes, she always makes sure Sam and Dean look professional/appropriate to what they'll be doing. And she makes absolutely AMAZING apple pie, and she cooks, and all - just helps "passively", not "actively". So one day she decides that "alright, that's enough, I'm only causing trouble" and leaves - and at first the boys don't care, since she "wasn't too useful" - but after like a week or two they notice that they miss the apple pie, they miss someone who could help them with looking better, especially Sam, who realizes how deep in love with her he is? And maybe she comes back?

I'm sorry if it's too specific, or too much details, or anything😅😅

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ all the little things,

summary. when you start to think just how replaceable you are, sam shows you exactly otherwise

pairing. sam winchester x reader ft. dean winchester

wordcount. 681

notes. honestly, this is just a heartwarming idea! thank you for requesting lovely 🩷

The motel room is quiet when you slip out.

Your bag is packed, everything neat and folded because, well—of course it is. You aren’t a mess. You don’t do things hastily or without thinking. But you’ve thought about this—leaving—long and hard, and the conclusion is always the same.

You aren’t useful.

Sure, you help. You make sure Dean’s FBI suit isn’t wrinkled and that Sam has something other than plaid to wear when interviewing victims. You keep the bunker stocked, and you make damn good apple pie.

But you can’t run. You can’t fight. You can barely hold a gun without it shaking in your hands.

And you’re tired of feeling like dead weight.

So you leave.

No note, no big speech—just a quiet exit in the middle of the night, the way you’re sure they’ll forget you.

Because you? You’re replaceable.

Right?

At first, the boys don’t notice.

They wake up, see that your things are gone, and shrug it off. Maybe you got tired of the life. Maybe you found something better.

They don’t talk about it.

They just move on.

Then things start feeling off.

Not all at once—just little things.

Like how Dean’s shirts are suddenly wrinkled as hell, and his ties are never quite right. Or how Sam keeps losing his laptop charger because you’re not there to remind him to bring it.

And the food? Absolute garbage.

Dean burns everything. Sam tries to cook and nearly poisons them both. They eat diner food three times a day, and after two weeks, Dean stares blankly at the menu and mutters, “God, I miss pie.”

Sam’s fork pauses mid-air.

It’s the first time either of them has said it out loud.

Dean catches himself, scowls, and shoves a bite of pancakes into his mouth. But the damage is done.

They do miss you.

The bunker feels wrong without you.

Your room is empty, hollow in a way Sam can’t stand. He stops by more often than he wants to admit, staring at the bed like it might hold answers, like it might tell him why you left without a word.

At first, he assumed it didn’t matter. But now—now it’s everywhere.

It’s in the little things.

Like how there’s no warm light from the kitchen in the morning, no soft hum of music while you bake. No one teasing Dean about his terrible diet or fixing Sam’s collar before an interview.

No one who makes them feel like they have a home.

It takes Sam longer than he’d like to admit to realize what it means.

He doesn’t just miss you.

He loves you.

And he needs you back.

Finding you takes time.

Sam spends hours searching, fingers flying over the keyboard until—finally—he gets a hit.

Dean doesn’t argue when Sam says, “Let’s go.”

Because he misses you too.

You stare at them when they show up at your new apartment.

“...What are you doing here?”

Sam takes a slow breath. “We need to talk.”

You cross your arms, trying to hold your ground. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Dean scoffs. “Bullshit.”

Sam shoots him a look, then turns back to you, softer. “We didn’t realize how much we needed you,” he admits. “Not just for the small stuff—for everything.”

You blink, and Sam steps closer, voice steady.

“You make us better. You make us feel like we’re more than just hunters. More than just the job.”

You swallow hard. “I—I thought I was just in the way.”

Sam shakes his head. “You were never in the way.”

Dean chimes in. “Look, we’re idiots, okay? We should’ve said something when you left.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “But the truth is—we suck without you.”

Your throat tightens.

Then Sam says, quietly—earnestly,

“I love you.”

Your breath catches.

Dean smirks. “Took him long enough to admit it.”

Sam rolls his eyes but doesn’t look away from you. His hand finds yours, warm and solid.

“So,” he says. “Come home?”

You hesitate—only for a second.

Then you nod.

And just like that, everything is right again.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

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[melanchoire]

i love your writings smmm ughhhhh😩 wish u wrote anythinggg on njz minji 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 like imagine minji giving you a head and eating u outtttttt for her own pleasure through overstimulating u..💔💔 clit slaps😵‍💫 and then guiding u to fuck her with pretty 9 inch strap on and provocatively sucking your strap😭 minji degrading u and calling a slut😩 and cuddles in the end with now cutest bear min

i absolutely NEED to write more for minji because she is so boyfriend and handsome and EVERYTHING anon if you have more ideas for minji my inbox is always open 👀

cw: cunnilingus, degradation, edging, fingering, hair pulling, use of strap on.

minji looks like she gives you the best heads 😵‍💫 yes, she has such beautiful and kissable plump lips, but they look even better when they wrap around your clit and suck on it 🥰

have you seen those boyfriends who usually wear a hair tie from their girlfriends on their wrist to show that they’re in a relationship? well, from the outside it may look like minji is using one of your hair ties as a bracelet and showing that she is not available because she already has a girlfriend that she loves too much, but really, it’s mostly because she wants to be prepared in advance if the situation arises where she finds a moment to tie up her hair and start eating you 😭 and she looks so attractive when she has her hair tied up in a messy bun… she would tie her hair in front of you in the most sensual and slow way because she knows the effect it has on you, or other times she likes it when you’re the one who ties her hair while she is eating you 🫠

the feeling of your hands in her hair makes her sooo wet that she could cum just from the feeling of your fingers in her locks, one of the reasons why she sometimes prefers to have her hair down while she devours you. maybe it can be annoying because the strands tend to fall on her face, but she loves it when your hands run through her hair and pull on her soft locks, feeling much better than when her hair is tied up

minji has big, somewhat masculine hands that she makes the most of when you give her the chance to use them. it doesn’t matter if you have plushy thighs or slimmer ones, she can make her whole hand surround your whole thigh and always applying a pressure that leaves a mark of her fingers that will be there for days 😵‍💫 she uses this to her advantage to completely open your thighs to the point your legs are spread obscenely wide or push your thighs up until your knees are pressed against your chest and she commands you to hold them in that position

but just as her hands please, they also punishes! so imagine how a slap in the pussy feels from someone with big ass hands 😥 it would all start with you moving your hips, maybe up to fuck her face or trying to push your cunt away from her mouth by pushing them down into the mattress. minji would try to brush it off at first, pausing for a moment to furrow her thick eyebrows and gives a glance from beneath her eyelashes. she would let it go if it weren’t for the fact that you repeat the same mistake, and given her short temper, she suddenly moves away from between your legs and her palm lands on your pussy, giving you a sharp slap that makes you scream and your pussy turns a little red :( there are times when minji has less patience and gives you three or even five slaps in a row, pissed off on the outside but inside she is enjoying watching your pussy get swollen and get a reddish color 😣 she is so mean… but she can’t help but make you moan or cry

THE STRAP PART. you’re used to the fact that if you’re the one using it, she is on top or, as in most cases, that she is the one fucking you, but your girlfriend has needs too and you’re willing to fulfill them! even if you know it won’t end well

omg i know she gives the best head of her life to the strap, saying “we can’t use it dry, right?” looking up at you from below as she gets on her knees 🫠 and minji sucks the cock like it’s real?? first teasing and kissing the head to tease, but a few seconds later she already has more than half of the strap in her mouth while one of her hands caresses the base as if it were real… you can’t feel anything, of course, but the image of her so into her task and committed to fulfilling it that sometimes makes you wish you had a real cock just to experience this every chance you get

you worry about her because the choking noises are so obscene and she is drooling so much on the strap that her drool starts to drip down her chin 😭 but if you try to move away, her hands will go to the back of your thighs and use them to push your body towards hers, causing the tip of your cock to hit the back of her throat and her nose to now be against your tummy…

and degrades you while you fuck her even if you’re giving her a fuck that will leave her in bed the whole next day. she knows how to contain her moans, suppressing them by biting the lower lip and covering them with shaky laughter. she doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction of knowing that you’re making her feel good, but not before making fun of you a little

“c’mon babe. fuck me properly.”

“is that all you got? aww sweetie… it seems that even after so much time in a relationship, you still don’t know how to please a girl.”

your energy may be starting to run out and you’re starting to feel tired, but that’s no excuse to give up just yet! you still have one task left to do: make minji cum

but you end up being so submissive and pathetic 😭 hugging her waist tightly and starting to fuck her at a speed that makes the bed creak beneath you two 😋 minji at this point doesn’t feel like joking around anymore because she feels so overwhelmed, so she wraps her legs around your waist and pushes your face into the crook of her neck, muffling your whimpers and moans because you were starting to get frustrated but feeling needy too :( pleasing minji always ends up causing this because her teasing always makes you so wet

and when you collapse on the bed after she cums on your strap she is the one who takes care of the aftercare because you always end up lifeless on the bed 😞 but kisses and cuddles with min are >>>

[tarotbydelilah444]

PAC • what is manifesting for you

pile one

angel numbers

111

888

444

777

222

what’s manifesting…

Abundance in all forms is coming your way. You have unexpected windfalls of money that is coming in. I intuitively heard, “Fuck Up Some Commas” by Future. This could be a tax return, refund check, settlement, inheritance, return on investments, or a loan being repaid. Whatever it is, you have definitely been waiting on this for a while. Make sure you spend it wisely!

Starting your influencer journey. You may start an influencer/lifestyle channel. Do it! You will receive so many followers and views.

Gaining happy weight. Your body is filling out and going in all the right places. You will definitely appreciate and love the appearance of your body. Realizing that you're "that girl".

Starting your own garden. Growing fruits, vegetables, and herbs.

Becoming a plant mom or spending more time in nature.

• Trying new products for your hair and skin and seeing amazing results.

The months of May and September are of significance. Autumn is also of significance.

• If you’ve been thinking about changing your appearance, go for it! This applies to you if you want to dye your hair, specifically red, or even straighten your hair for the first time. A silk press or perming your hair is of significance.

• Someone that you blocked or in a no-contact situation with could be lurking on your social media. You know exactly who this person is. They still have feelings for you, or they still in their feelings about you blocking or ignoring them.

MAIN CHARACTER ENERGY. Your confidence will be improving. “And to me, you are the star of the show still”. You are officially God’s favorite and the universe will be showering you with nothing, but blessings on top of blessings. Be open to receive and give thanks to the most high for these blessings. This is your time to shine and thrive because everyone is watching you, yes, even your HATERS. Everything about you is so magnetic and contagious right now, so be mindful of who you are letting in your space at this time because you definitely got some people trying to block your shine, trying to talk shit, and even sending you the evil eye to block your blessings, but know that you are protected and no harm shall touch you. 

Changing your eating habits. This could be dieting, fasting, or even being more mindful of what you are consuming. Working on that summer body!

• Learning new cooking recipes rather than eating out all the time. You could find new recipes on TikTok that you've been wanting to try out. Nara Smith could be of significance.

• If you are single, new love is coming in. This could be a soulmate connection, especially, if you've been trying to manifest in your soulmate. The wait is over and there is no need to look any further because this person is coming in sooner than you think. This person may be an Aries, Leo, Sagittarius, or Taurus, or could have these placements in their big three. They are very attractive, confident, friendly, creative, passionate, nurturing, and fun-loving. They could be younger than you or they could be a bit immature. Your advice is to allow yourself to be open to receiving this love and give this person a chance. Do not allow past experiences to rob you of this beautiful opportunity. "Love Like This," by Faith Evans is what I intuitively heard. For others, you got options, babyyy! You have so many people who are attracted to you and ready to shoot their shot and risk it all. "I'm here for a good time, not a long time" is your mantra. Right now, you are perfectly content with just exploring your options and having some fun. Take if it resonates, but some of you are discovering yourself, as it pertains to your sexuality, and others are becoming more comfortable in how you express your sensuality. Overall, you have good sex coming your way, so make sure you take precautions. I am sensing heavy fertility energy in your reading.

If you recently applied for an internship or scholarship, you will hear good news regarding this within the next few days or three to six months from now. Nursing could be of significance.

Receiving an invitation. This could be an invitation to a birthday party, baby shower, graduation, concert, trip, or some type of event/celebration. It will be fun and I see you enjoying yourself, if you decide to go. This definitely applies if you are an introvert, you are being encouraged to get out more and say “yes” to new opportunities and experiences that are heading your way. Time to get out of your comfort zone!

• Making birthday plans, especially, if you are a Pisces, Aries, Taurus, or Gemini.

• Tapping into your creative energy. If you have been thinking about starting a business or working on a new or old project, it’s time to START RIGHT NOW! I intuitively channeled that clip of Kim K, saying "Get Your Fucking Ass Up and Work". This may be a passion project or even you discovering a new hobby that has piqued your interest. Whatever it is, nurture it and watch out for how abundant and prosperous, it can become. It's time for you to share this idea, business, or project with the world because it will receive so much recognition, praise, and attention, especially if it's related to beauty or fashion.

keywords: glow up, Obsessed by Mariah Carey, abundance mindset, "patience, young grasshopper", Sum 2 Prove by Lil Baby, the world is yours, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper, "My vibe right now is just living life", How Stella Got Her Groove Back, Blessings by Big Sean ft Drake, All Eyez on Me by 2Pac, having my way, YOLO, Valentine's Day, Congratulations by Post Malone ft Quavo, new character development, going viral, five-star b*tch, All I Do is Win by DJ Khaled ft T-Pain, Snoop Dogg, Ludacris, monitoring spirits, Cocky Af by Megan Thee Stallion, destiny swapping, Pretty Girl Rock by Keri Hilson, soft girl life, Work Bitch by Britney Spears, high maintenance, Get It Sexyy by Sexyy Red, losing your virginity, I Am Woman by Emmy Meli, Korean skincare, life feeling like a movie, pilates princess, Git Up, Git Our by OutKast, "baby, you summertime fine", gang-stalking, Look At Me Now by Chris Brown ft Busta Rhymes & Lil Wayne, brand deals, "young, hot, and turnt, TGFI by Glorilla, Shining by Dj Khaled ft Jay-Z & Beyonce, romantizing my life, Stay Schemin by Rick Ross ft Drake & French Montana, buying a rose vibrator, Excuse Me Miss by Jay-Z ft Pharrell, Brokey by Latto, “let me give her a new style, a new hair-do, a new cut, a new color”

affirmations to affirm

"I am intelligent"

"Life is beautiful"

"I am beautiful"

pile two

angel numbers

333 666 888 444 111

what's manifesting...

You may have gone through a rough time or felt like it's you against the world for some time. You've learned harsh, yet valuable lessons and managed to overcome each obstacle and challenge that has come your way. "Everything happens for a reason". The Universe is so proud of you and is ready to reward you for your resilience, bravery, patience, and perseverance during this time. Things will begin to make sense and finally shift in your favor very soon. The storm is finally over!

A solo trip. I channeled Paris, Mexico, or Italy. If it's not these specific places, it will definitely be somewhere overseas. You want to get away to clear your mind. I intuitively heard, "reset button".

Learning how to detach and move away from things that no longer serve you. You no longer want to entertain and engage in/with low-vibrational things, people, and situations that subtract from you rather than add to you. "It ain't nothing to cut that b*tch off" is what I channeled. LOL, you guys are truly over the bullshit and are choosing to protect your peace by removing yourself from unnecessary stress and drama. It hasn't been easy, but these changes are necessary, for new things to come towards you.

Wanting to change your number. "New number, who dis". You are being more selective of who you allow access to you. You could be de-cluttering your phone by deleting old numbers and texts.

A passed-on loved one watches over you and constantly sends you signs from Heaven. They actively try to communicate with you through synchronicities and send you messages in your dreams to get your attention. They act as a guardian angel, always guiding you and protecting you from harm, both physical and spiritual.

The months of February, May, and August are of significance.

A new job or job offer is coming in, especially, if you've been applying non-stop or waiting for a response about a position. Make sure to stay vigilant and check your emails, junk mail, and messages, and answer phone calls because they may come in unexpectedly. This can also apply if you applied for an internship.

Tapping more into spirituality and leaning more into your spiritual abilities. You will find it easier to trust your intuition as a guide as well as see and trust in the signs and synchronicities that the Divine sends to you to assist you on your journey, especially when you are feeling confused or lost. Lots of praying, meditating, connecting with the elements, practicing gratitude, shadow work, and visualization. You may even find it much easier to manifest.

Finding or changing your style or aesthetic. "A new era of me".

If you recently went no-contact or blocked communication with someone, this person has been thinking about you a lot. You and this person share a karmic connection. They may have Gemini, Aquarius, or Pisces placements in their big three. Further characteristics: hazel eyes, average height, Asian, brown or darker complexion.

If you struggle with any health issues, you will make a speedy recovery, as long as you remain consistent with your health regime. You are learning how to prioritize yourself rather than choosing to ignore them for a change, through radical self-care and mindfulness. Replacing bad habits with good habits. Taking responsibility for your health, no more victim mentality.

Working and improving your credit score. You are becoming more frugal or mindful of where you are spending your money. Learning how to budget and how to invest in stocks. Paying off your debts.

Becoming more organized and being able to accomplish and deal with things with ease. Moving with intention.

Setting boundaries and being comfortable with saying "no". You guys are finally putting yourself first, for the first time in a long time. You are no longer interested in being a "people pleaser" and are focusing on only pleasing and accepting yourself. I channeled, "Don't save her, she don't wanna be saved". Not playing "captain- save-a-hoe anymore". The solar plexus chakra is very strong in your messages.

Shifting your mindset and learning how to be mindful of what you are thinking. Learning how to observe your thoughts rather than attaching meaning to them. Gaining control over your mind and thoughts.

keywords: protecting my peace, law of attraction, the art of detachment, I Wish You Roses by Kali Uchis, DND mode, Joy & Pain by Maze ft Franke Beverely, "It's above me Now", The Pressure by Jhene Aiko, actions speak louder than words, Free by 6lack, entering my villain era, Access Denied by Lucky Daye ft Ari Lennox, divinely protected, Female Energy by Willow "it's in me, not on me", spring cleaning, Bounce Back by Big Sean, me vs me, "I am the master of my fate", self-improvement books, epiphanies & realizations, Level Up by Ciara, herbalism, "I got to put me first", Do Not Disturb by Drake, in my healing era, medicine woman, "I forgive, but I don't forget", Not My Problem by Laila!, the path of self-discovery, phoenix rising from the ashes, Ambience by Nia Sultana, finding your voice, After the Storm by Kali Uchis ft Tyler the Creator, out of sight, out of mind, M.I.A, year of the snake, "no mean no", enlightenment, expand your consciousness, Surrender by Jhene Aiko ft Dr. Chill, too much static, return to sender, Fuck the World (Summer in London) by Brent Faiyaz, being tested, Silent Hill by Kendrick Lamar ft Kodak Black, the five clairs, sink or swim, Spider-Man Superman by Drake ft PartyNextDoor, "come correct or don't come at all", fuck around and find out, mental clarity, thrift shopping, standards going up, G.O.M.D by J.Cole, None of Your Concern by Jhene Aiko ft Big Sean, 0 to 100 by Drake, "didn't tell I was a savage", I Don't Fuck With You by Big Sean ft E-40, rebirth, Prada Process Guapdad 4000 ft 6LACK

affirmations to affirm

"I have a beautiful life"

"I am in control of my destiny"

I know my value and I add tax"

pile three

Disclaimer: Tumblr has a limit on the amount of songs you can add, so the rest of the channeled songs will be typed out.

Never Be Yours - Kali Uchis Burning - Tems Lucky Girl - Carlina

angel numbers

555 222 888 1010 111 /1111

what's manifesting...

Receiving recognition or having a viral moment. I channeled "overnight success/sensation". You or something is finally receiving its flowers after a long time of going unnoticed.

Wanting or getting a piercing.

Adopting a new pet.

Reconnecting with your inner child by following your passions and childhood dreams. Enjoying activities that you enjoyed in your childhood.

Volunteering. You could be working with children.

If you are experiencing family issues, there will be some type of resolution or mediation. "Waiving the white flag" is what I heard. For others, you could spend more time with your grandparents, especially since they are getting older.

Experiencing shifts in your friendship circle. The snakes in the grass are revealing themselves. Using your intuition to help guide you on who needs to be removed. " Not everyone can come along with you on this next phase of your journey". Don't worry though because you are meeting new people that are in alignment with you and your path.

People from your past will be resurfacing. This could be old friends or an old love interest. However, I strongly sense that this is the energy of an old love interest. This person could be Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn, or Cancer. This person is missing you real bad. They constantly replay the last encounter with you in their head like a broken record. They cannot get off their mind, no matter how much they've tried to, everything reminds them of you, especially if this a no-contact situation. I am intuitively hearing, "Missing You" by John Waite. This person looks at your photos a lot at night. They definitely relieve themselves to your photos and have flashbacks of the "intimate" moments that you two shared together. I received the "twin flame" card twice in the reading, so this is confirmation if were looking for a sign. This person wants to communicate with you and tell you how they truly feel about you. Apply if it resonates, but they are tired of running away from this connection and are realizing that they still love you or have fallen in love with you, and are hoping that you will grant them a second chance when the time is right. For some, they may even ask you out on a date. Further confirmations: Hispanic / Latino / Latina, curly or wavy textured hair, hazel eyes, and piercings.

Receiving calls or messages from unknown numbers.

If you are doubting if you are on the right path, 222 is confirmation that you are on the right path and that you are right where you are supposed to be.

Maturing. You are growing out of certain things that no longer resonate with you. Some of you may have experienced or are currently experiencing a spiritual awakening. Everything is shifting for your highest purpose, so don't panic or resist! You are no longer interested in repeating the same cycles.

The months of March, June, July, August, and October are of significance relating to your manifestations.

Good news about an interview or a deal. This can apply if you have aspirations of becoming a singer or pursuing a career in the creative field.

A new car. For some, this could be your first car, and for others, you could be passing your driver's test, getting your driver's license or your driving skills improving.

Going out on more dates. This could either be solo dates or allowing yourself to be wined and dined by others.

A mentor.

Enrolling in school to further your education or to earn a certification/license. If you are currently enrolled in school, your grades will improve and you will pass your courses. For others, yes, you will graduate, just stay focused and continue to study and work hard. This applies if you are studying for exams or a standardized test as well, you will get the results that you are seeking. An acceptance letter.

You will be more confident in sharing your talent with the world. You are beginning to believe in yourself and you are ready to share your talents with the world. You were meant to stand out and inspire others, you have so many people that look up or will look up to you as inspiration. "Allow me to reintroduce myself" is what I heard.

The ability to speak your manifestations into existence is becoming more powerful and potent. Remember that there is power in the tongue, so make sure, you are using it wisely. I also channeled that some of you are listening to subliminals to help you attract and manifest your "dream life", and receive your desired results.

keywords: What About Your Friends by TLC, having flashbacks, Can't Get Over You by Maze ft Frankie Beverly, true colors, "I want that old thing back", butterfly cycle, follow your dreams, "You complete me" (Jerry Maguire), close mouth don't get feed, Express Yourself by Charles Wright, Sparkle (movie), No Frauds by Nicki Minaj ft Drake & Lil Wayne, look how far you come (looking through old photos), Break My Soul by Beyonce, facing and overcoming your fears, Same Ol' Mistakes by Rihanna, the world is your oyster, Empire State of Mind by Jay-Z ft Alicia Keys, Lakshmi, it was all a dream, God's Plan by Drake, focus on the vision, Dedication by Nipsey Hussle, power of the mind, Glamorous by Fergie ft Ludacris, out with old, in with the new, 7 rings by Ariana Grande, the people's princess, New Level by A$AP Ferg, investing in yourself, honor roll, valedictorian, Roar by Katy Perry, runner & chaser dynamic, Live Your Life by T.I. ft Rihanna, trash taking itself out, Make Me Proud by Drake ft Nicki Minaj, "with great power comes with great responsibility", listening to subliminals, Motivation (Cardi B clip), "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade", Complicated by Nivea

affirmations to affirm

"I am proud of all my accomplishments"

"I am high frequency"

"I am standing in my power"

[universefcb]

Hellooo!! Could you write something with Pau Cubarsí? Where he meets Y/N's family, and is terrified of her father and older brothers? But in the end everything turns out okay. Something fluffy and funny please hehe 🤭💓

↬❥ Mission impossible

Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

sy: He meets his family for the first time, but his brothers are protectors.

a/n: Sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

warnings: No warning.

Today was a big day. Pau Cubarsí would finally meet his family. You were excited, but he... not so much.

“Baby, you’re freezing!” you said, holding his hands as you walked to your front door.

“I’m fine... just a little nervous,” Pau admitted, trying to hide it.

He had heard a lot about his family. His mother was a sweetheart, but his father and older brothers... well, they had a slight history of being overprotective. And Pau, despite being a fearless defender on the field, felt like this would be his toughest defense yet.

When they entered, their mother welcomed them with a warm hug.

“Dude! I finally meet you, darling! Y/N talks about you so much!” she said, smiling.

He smiled in relief. At least one positive point.

But then… they arrived.

His father and two older brothers walked into the room. Three tall men, arms crossed, with sharp gazes straight at Pau. The aura of intimidation was almost palpable.

“So you’re our sister’s boyfriend?” one of her brothers asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Yes, it’s me,” Pau replied, swallowing hard.

“You play for Barcelona, right?” his father asked, without looking away.

“That’s right, sir.”

“Good to know. Because if you do anything wrong with my daughter, we’ll mark you like a defender in a Champions League final.”

Pau almost choked on his own air. You had to hold back your laughter.

“Dad!” you complained, giving him a light shove.

But his brothers laughed, amused by the evident terror in their boyfriend's eyes.

“Relax, Cubarsí,” the other brother said, giving him a none-too-gentle pat on the back. “We just need to make sure you’re the right guy for our sister.”

Pau nodded quickly, trying to hide his panic.

“I promise I am. I like her a lot. I would never do anything to hurt her.”

His father and brothers looked at each other, as if they were considering his answer. You could have sworn they were holding back laughter.

After a few tense minutes, his father finally broke the silence.

“Well, then come eat with us. Let’s see if you can handle the family dinner.”

If Pau thought the worst was over, he was wrong.

During dinner, his brothers began a real interrogation.

“What is your intention with our sister?”

“Do you have any exes that still talk to you?”

“If my sister asked for your card, would you give it to her without hesitation?”

“Guys!!” you interjected, rolling your eyes. “You guys look like those annoying barbecue uncles!”

Pau smiled nervously and, with each successful answer, he received looks of approval. In the end, he was more relaxed and even laughing at some stories about his family.

When the night ended and you were leaving, your father finally gave a small smile and gave Pau a firm handshake.

“You passed the test, kid. But keep your eyes open.”

His brothers crossed their arms and nodded in sync.

Pau let out a sigh of relief and smiled.

“Thank you, sir. I promise to take good care of her.”

On the way back, you looked at him and laughed.

“See? It was peaceful.”

He stared at you in disbelief.

“Easy?! I thought I wasn’t going to get out of there alive!”

You laughed and grabbed his hand.

“Well, now they like you. Next time will be much better.”

Pau took a deep breath and smiled, finally relaxing.

“I hope so. Because honestly, I'd rather mark Real Madrid strikers than face your father again.”

You laughed and kissed him on the cheek.

“My hero.”

[yailtsv]

Valentines Chaos - Pazzi’s Daughter

💌 Syn: Paige & Azzi decided they wanted to go all out on all holidays for Rory, so on Valentine’s Day they spend it with the whole team.

»»— warnings: none

»»— notes: finally finished after like 3 weeks of trying to finish this 🙌

»»— word count: 1.4k

»»— pair: Pazzi x Daughter!Oc || Rory Bueckers

the last couple weeks have been…chaotic for the bueckers-fudd duo to say the least

while being student-athletes, playing basketball games two times a week, and being full time caregivers for a 1 year old, they are also trying to go all out on valentine’s day for rory.

rory has no idea about the holiday so they don’t even have to celebrate it like this until she’s maybe 2, but they want to have the memory of going all out on all holidays - even the ones were rory is to young to remember

for the last few weeks paige and azzi have been buying things for valentine’s day. they’ve bought ingredients to bake sweets, they’ve bought gifts, they’ve bought clothes, they’ve bought decorations, they’ve bought other foods, they’ve bought so much and still feel like it’s not enough and valentine’s day is tomorrow

which is why they are currently doing last minute shopping at target while caroline and kk babysit rory.

“we should get this for rory” paige says pointing to a large stuffed unicorn “YES” azzi says excitedly “remember azzi, i said for rory” paige says again

azzi pouts “i know what you said. put the unicorn in the cart.”

paige does as said with them eventually moving on to other parts of the store. during the whole store trip they joked about basically everything, argued about what they should and shouldn’t get a few times, and decided that they were also gonna shop for the girls and get them a few gifts.

a few of them are long distance with their significant other so they don’t get to see their lover today, and some of them broke up with their partner so they obviously can’t see them today, — plus all the girls were already gonna be at their dorm anyway so while they are going all out for rory, they also want to do that for the girls.

——————————————————————

after getting the remaining stuff they would need for valentine’s day (+ going overboard on team gifts) they payed and left the store deciding on stopping and getting food for them, caroline, kk, and rory before heading back home.

when getting home they could hear rory giggling and kk screaming, making both of them shake their head amusingly before paige opened the door

they both put the grocery bags in the closet by the door so none of the girls could see any of it before walking into the living room with the food bags

“honey we’re home” paige yells a little bit so she’s heard over the yelling

rory bounces on the couch when she sees paige and azzi, making azzi set down the drinks she was holding and go over - picking up the excited baby

“hi baby! hi! how are you my love?” azzi says in a tone matching rory’s excitement while kissing rory all over her face making her giggle

“hi sweetheart” paige says walking over to azzi and rory after setting the food bags down and letting rory wrap her tiny hand around paige’s finger

rory doesn’t speak yet or walk - i mean she did just turn 1 in december so duh, but even when she can’t speak she’s a VERY vocal baby.

she expresses her feelings through her face obviously, and makes noises to match those expressions.

right now she’s excited about seeing paige and azzi again and is showing that by bouncing in azzi’s arms, and giggling while gripping paige’s finger

kk, and caroline have just stood to the side letting the three of them have their moment - and honestly? taking secret pictures of the three of them

after eating and hanging out for a few hours caroline and kk left saying it was getting late, and paige had just put rory down for bed

while paige was putting rory to sleep azzi was getting out all of the stuff the bought for valentine’s day and setting it all in the living room

when paige walked back into the living room after a hard 25 minutes of rory not being able to go to sleep, paige walks into azzi already putting up some streamers

“decided you didn’t want to wait for me?” paige asked while wrapping her arms around azzi’s stomach - after sneaking up on her

azzi leans into paige wrapping her hands on paige’s that are resting on her stomach “i was just getting a head start-“

“uh-huh sure” paige mumbles into azzi’s neck, placing small kisses all over her neck and sucking gently on some places “rory asleep?” azzi asks tilting her head to the side to give paige more room “mhm” paige mumbles into the side of her neck again, pulling azzi closer to her by grabbing her waist

——————————————————————

it’s now the next day, paige and azzi had to wake up early to set up because they got…occupied last night and they had just now finished setting up.

the rooms were decorated, the gifts were put together and sitting on a table, all the food was made, and all the things they would need to bake the desserts were out on the counter neatly - waiting for the team to get here and for rory to wake up.

the team started to show up to paige and azzi’s dorm at around 8:30am, some coming in pairs, and some coming in groups

once the last few people got there at around 9:50am, azzi decided it was time to wake up rory. it took a little bit to wake her up but after around 10 minutes, azzi made her way into the living room with rory perched on azzi’s hip - her face buried in a’s neck too

“there’s the princess” caroline says after looking up and seeing azzi and rory, making everyone look up to see them, and then cheer

rory just hides more into azzi still trying to wake up properly, making azzi laugh a little bit

paige gets up and walks towards her girls, greeting rory with a kiss on her forehead while saying “good morning sweet girl, happy valentine’s day” rory obviously doesn’t know all the words she said but she still smiled and reached her small hand up to paige’s face

paige grabs rory’s hand off her cheek and kisses the palm of her hand, making rory laugh at the ticklish feeling.

paige, azzi, the uconn girls, and rory have been baking sweet treats for the last 4 hours, and when i say rory i mean she sat in her bouncer in the kitchen entrance watching all of them move around the kitchen

"umm who's been giving rory the desserts?" azzi says, after turning around from the counter and seeing a lot of missing deserts from the counter and chocolate covering rory's face and clothes

"what-" paige started, also turning around and seeing the same thing azzi did

"HA! HA! you're gonna have a sugar rush baby!" kk said pointing fingers at paige - as she is still mad at paige from the "argument" they had just a little bit ago

"bro shut up" paige says pushing kk away from her and walking towards rory - picking her up "hi baby, the deserts good?" paige asks with rory on her hip - rory just squirms in paige's grasp

everyone's just watching paige with rory - not knowing how to help this situation + no one has confessed either, azzi moved closer towards paige and rory, but still gave paige her space to help rory without needing azzi's assistance

——————————————————————

after that whole mess, paige went and got rory cleaned up and in a new outfit seeing as she had chocolate and icing all over her.

once rory was clean and back in the living room, the whole team was playing with rory to try to get her tired from the sugar rush, which eventually ended with kk running around the dorm with ice and jana chasing her, after something kk had said

but paige and azzi aren't judging what so ever because rory was laughing the whole time and succeeded in doing what they knew was gonna be difficult, in no time! - which was get the very hyper baby to calm down and take a nap

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @authentic-girl03 @ldapper

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Parallels in “Nosferatu” (2024)

Three nights. Three vampire hunters. Three of everything:

Three main themes (disease, death and sex) connected to trauma, pain and violence. In his own essay to “The Guardian” about his “Nosferatu”, Robert Eggers writes: “what are we to make of stories like this? What kind of trauma, pain and violence is so great that even death cannot stop it? It’s a heartbreaking notion. The folk vampire embodies disease, death, and sex in a base, brutal and unforgiving way.”

Three nights. Three goals:

"You are not for the living. You are not for human kind": force Ellen to confront her own power (death);

"You deceive yourself": destroy Ellen's Victorian self-deception (her power won't ever be accepted by Victorian society)

"Remember how once we were? A moment. Remember?": compell Ellen to remember their shared trauma by forcing other characters to relive it (reincarnation theme + "Wuthering Heights" inspiration)

Three main "blood plague" victims and deliriums: unbearable guilt (Thomas), burdens of reproduction (Anna Harding), maddening grief (Friedrich Harding).

"I’ll kill him! He shall never harm you again. Never! [...] Please, it is my fault! Forgive me my dear, sweet friend!" "Suffocating… I… feel so weak… I… I fear little Friedrich is so strong and hungry, he’s eating me weary." "Anna, my love. Our son … our little son… forgive me. I shall never sleep again. Never."

Three times is Ellen compared to a fairy-like being:

"She is truly a… nonpareil of beauty. Almost a sylph." "Father… he would find me in our fields… within the forest… as if – I was his little changeling girl." "You mustn’t be swept up in her fairy ways."

Three times is Ellen told she's not for the living:

"You, you... You are not for the living. You are not for human kind." "I told you, you are not of human kind." "In heathen times you might have been a great priestess of Isis."

Three times is Thomas warned about "Orlok's shadow":

"Beware his shadow. The shadow covers you in nightmare. Awake, but a dream. There is no escape. Pray. Pray." "You are lost in his shadow. Enchanters turn their spirit into shadow to infect your dreams. Remain here!" "Wait! You are not yet well!"

Three times Thomas is laughed at by characters affiliated with Orlok, or Orlok himself:

"He [Orlok] has one foot in the grave, as they say." "Yesternight was but the eve of their Szent András. Our common people say it is the darkest witching night when Devil’s magic bids the wolf to speak with tongues of men, and every nightmare freely treads upon this earth, ascendent from the torturous grave." [extended cut]

Three times Orlok was a shadow at Ellen's window:

"Soon I will be no more a shadow to you. Your spirit was never enough. Soon our flesh shall embrace and we shall be as one." (Because that's all he was to her in her teenage years)

Three times Ellen mentions dreams of Death/Orlok:

"I must tell you my dream. No… It was our wedding���. Yet not in chapel walls. Above was an impenetrable thundercloud outstretched beyond the hills. The scent of the lilacs was strong in the rain… and when I reached the altar, you weren’t there. Standing before me, all in black… was… Death. But I was so happy, so very happy. We exchanged vows, we embraced, and when we turned round, everyone was dead. Father… and… everyone. The stench of their bodies was horrible. And – But I had never been so happy as that moment… as I held hands with Death." "Professor… My dreams grow darker, they sicken me. Does evil come from within us or from beyond?" "He stalks me in my dreams, all my sleeping thoughts are of him, every night!"

Three times Orlok is shown to feed on souls (soul in the blood/ strigoi myth):

Thomas exorcisim "You will press thy lips to my cold mouth and I will drink upon thy soul." [extended cut] "I relinquished him my soul…"

Three times Clara and Louise Harding spoke (foreshadowing devices):

"No! We can’t! There is a monster in the room! Papa! Papa! Don’t let her feed me to the monster!! Stab him!" "Mama! Papa! Is that the monster?" "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep."

Three failed "spikes of cold iron":

Three times Orlok conjures pure horror before feeding:

Three times Orlok is identified as Solomonar:

"A black enchanter he was in life. Şolomonari. The Devil preserved his soul that his corpse may walk again in blaspheme." "Solomonari. And their codex of secrets." "Our Nosferatu is of an especial malignancy. He is an arch-enchanter, Şolomonari, Satan’s own learnèd disciple." [extended cut]

Three times Orlok is seen performing sorcery:

“Your husband is lost to you. Dream of me. Only me.” (Solomonari Sex Magick ritual) “Nature, increase thy thunders, and hasten me upon the wings of thy barbarous winds" (Solomonari weathermaker or Dacian cloud traveler) [Without subtitles]: Orlok influences Thomas' dreams for him to kick Ellen out of bed

Three Solomonari Sex Magick rituals:

"Your lordship. It is entirely as you have demanded of me. He shall presently be in thy rule, and I shall attend thee here, near the object of thy contract!" "Your husband is lost to you. Dream of me. Only me." "And so the maiden fair did offer up, her love unto the beast, and with him lay, in close embrace until the first cock crow. Her willing sacrifice thus broke the curse, and freed them from the plague of Nosferatu."

Three spiritual obsession scenes linking Herr Knock and Ellen (Orlok has to be summoned for these communications to happen):

"He is coming." [Who, who is?] ‘Twas He that invoked me! ’Twas I that was chosen to serve Him for I know what He covets. And He shall cast upon you curses, confusion, affliction and rebuke, for you have forsaken me! And He shall reign over all your empty corpses! Devourence!" "Enduring night… a spectre of death… He… he… spreads his shadow… and… and… he is coming– [Who, damn you!? Speak!!] I shall persist to join you every night, first in sleep, then in your arms. Everything will be mixed with abomination, and you'll be knee-deep in blood. Everyone will cry. There will be none to bury the dead. You are promised to me!" "Help me! Help me!" "His Lordship! He is come!" "He is here!"

Three kneeling scenes:

"Pray then, instruct me, my Lord. Charge me. Use me. Yet my Lord, I beg thee." [Silence, dog! Your entreaties grow insolent. You shall crave of me nothing.] "Please, have pity, Thomas is very poorly and… Friedrich, you must listen to me, we are all in the most grave danger – I throw myself at your feet! [Frau Hutter, please!] Listen to me, please! "No! Please. I’ll be good, I’ll be good..."

Three times Orlok placed intentions inside of Thomas' head:

"Get off me. Give me room. I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe… Get off!" “Another night has passed. More blood shall stain thy hands. Tomorrow shall be his last.” [extended cut] “I will drive a spike of cold iron through him. [...] No. I will not wait ‘til morning! We must stop him now. I feel his hold upon me this night."

Three times the "reincarnation theme" is introduced in the dialogue:

"Yet, I cannot be sated without you. Remember how once we were? A moment. Remember?" "He took me as his lover then, and now he has come back. He has discovered our marriage and has come back!" [this "then" is 300 years ago] "You could never please me as he could."

Three times Friedrich-Anna Harding paralleled Ellen-Orlok (mirror pairs)

[In public.] "I cannot resist you, my love." Friedrich and Anna sex scene [extended cut] = Ellen and Orlok sex scene "Let this your tender embrace keep me now in bliss, away from everlasting sleep." "And so the maiden fair did offer up her love unto the beast, and with him lay, in close embrace until the first cock crow. Her willing sacrifice thus broke the curse, and freed them from the plague of Nosferatu."

The three main themes connect Anna-Friedrich and Ellen-Orlok final scenes:

Disease (Blood plague); Sex (Necrophilia) and Death (self-explanatory) Wedding dress - kiss - sex

Three times Ellen's destiny is mentioned, and in connection to Orlok:

"Look at the sea! Does it never call to you? Urge you? Something is close at hand- Destiny!" "Yet even now we are fated." "You run in vain! You cannot out-run her destiny!"

Three times is Ellen's faith seen (enchantress):

"Come to me. Come to me: A guardian angel, a spirit of comfort – spirit of any celestial sphere – anything – hear my call. Come to me." [Have you so little faith in me?] "I will send you my utmost faith and you will write to me every day." "He does not have power over you, Thomas. I place my utter faith in you." [...] "I bid you, come to me."

Three times the Dawn is connected to Orlok, Ellen, Thomas and Herr Knock:

Knock: "I shall then stifle out the bridegroom, your Lordship." Orlok: "I have use in him." Knock: "Pray then, instruct me, my Lord. Charge me. Use me. Shall I fetch unto thee thy pretty belonging?" Orlok: "The compact commands she must willingly re-pledge her vow. She cannot be stolen [...] Daybreak draws near. Anon the bells of dawn shall toll in despair of my coming. And I shall taste of you."

Three "possession" scenes:

Orlok takes control over Thomas' soul (Solomonari Sex Magick Divorce ritual) Orlok possesses Thomas to have sex with Ellen ("Possession scene") Orlok possesses Ellen's soul (Breaking of Nosferatu curse)

Three are the ways Ellen’s heart (soul) is connected to Orlok:

[Your words spring from your honest heart] “My heart [locket] is lost without my Thomas.”  "Kiss my heart! My heart!”  [the "possession scene" | "No! Orlok!"] Her giving Orlok her heart/soul to feed on (heart blood): her blood plague delirium is love

Three interrupted sex scenes (only Orlok carries on):

"The honeymoon was yet too short! Take off your shoes. One minute more." "Stop. Stop my love. Do you hear that?" [extended cut] "More... more..."

Three representations of unbearable grief:

[huffelpuff210]

My Girl Part 2

Mafia Bucky X Reader My Girl Part 2

Summary: you never realized who Bucky was until a co worker points it out

You were currently in the bathroom of your apartment covering up the bruise on your neck, you were good at covering up bruises from your past, 

when your parents would beat the shit out of you, you had no choice but cover up the bruising, 

You sighed looking at the cover up if you didn’t know there was a bruise there you wouldn’t even know something happened. Last night Bucky brought you to his home where you got check out by one of his doctors he claimed turns out one of his doctors on his pay roll was your boss, 

after telling you it was just bruising, and to ice it he took you home, the look on his face told you he didn’t like where you lived it was a bad part of town, you knew that, everyone knew that, But you just brushed it off thanking him and getting out of the car, 

Bucky was currently sitting behind his desk looking at the file on you Nat dug up, many trips to the hospital as a kid, broken ribs, jaw, collapsed lung, damaged vocal cord, 

it didn’t take a doctor to know what the hell was going on there and just the mere thought of someone hurting you made him want to kill, hell it took all of his strength to not kill the bastards who decided to jump you, but what he didn’t expect was how you took out most of the men, that third man that hurt you he wanted to kill but he didn’t want to freak you out, 

Still it did surprise him, but after you were sixteen you just disappeared, your parents never filed a missing persons report your teachers at the school did, Bucky takes a sip of his whiskey, 

He turns the page, got your GED when you were finally an adult, went to community collage got your degree, and you have been working at the hospital ever since, 

He closes the file crossing his leg over the other, but begs the question where were you for three years before you resurfaced? 

He also didn’t like the part of town where you lived, it was no secret that part of town is dangerous for someone like you, you were small compared to him but you were a woman, probably around 5’4 by his guess. You were a small thing, but he loved it. 

He loved everything about you from your long dark brown hair to your green eyes, you were perfect for him, 

He looked at his watch it was around noon around your break, it was a surprise to him that Bruce was your boss so he had him give him your schedule, Bucky stood up walking out of his office, 

You were running around work like a crazy person you were about to take your lunch when another emergency rolled it, not like you had lunch anyway, 

“Y/N please report to the main lobby.” You hear over the speaker 

You sigh in frustration, just as you were about to the lobby one of your co workers grab your arm, 

“Do you have any idea who that is?” She asked nodding towards Bucky, 

“He helped me out the other night.” You says 

“That is Bucky Barnes he is the Mafia king of New York.” She says in a worried tone

“Mafia?” You asked 

“Yes, He is dangerous just be careful.” She says 

You nod

He couldn’t be any worse than your family, your father got so mad at you one time he beat the shit out of you with a bamboo stick, hurt like hell. 

You walk towards him, 

“Bucky what are you doing here?” You asked tilting your head

“Well it is lunch time, I was wondering if you would like to go out for lunch?’ He asked with a wicked smile, that smile seemed to probably get him anything if he wanted 

“And don’t worry about money or your boss, I’ll take care of it.” He says holding out his hand, you had a feeling if you said no he wouldn’t accept that answer so you take his hand you can’t remember the last time you went out to eat so you might as well accept his invitation 

“Besides I want to get to know the girl that took out two full grown men.” He says with a chuckle 

You chuckle as well, 

“It’s a dangerous city, a girl needs to know how to protect herself.” You say He smiles as he nods 

“Well I would like to hear it anyway.” He says 

for the first time in a while you smiled a real smile not one of the fake one’s you so skillfully mastered.

You just had one question, who was Bucky Barnes really?

[hereghostslive]

WIP Wednesday

I haven't done one of these in a while and it's because I told myself I wouldn't until I had completed a fic but no surprise, I've grown impatient with my slow as fuck writing pace. so here's what I've been working on.

started writing this on my own birthday because I was feeling sad and depressed and wanted to cheer myself up by writing angsty Tommy and then cheer him up as well. here's everything I have for it. not sure when I'll finish it.

--

He’s staring at the dark screen of his television when his phone goes off for the fourth time? Fifth time? He lost count after the first few, not interested in answering but too tired to move to turn his phone off. 

Besides, he already knows what the messages say. 

Happy birthday, Tommy! 

Or

happy b day man

Or

Wow the big 4-0, got your AARP card yet?

And probably a

Happy birthday from Diner 54. Get 30% off your meal today!

Okay, that one he should actually open and make use of. The others, well … he doesn’t want to look and see the one message that isn’t there.

He has the day off, which is unusual for him. Normally, he works on his birthday, on account of him not really caring about this day at all. But he had taken this one off because —

“— you have to celebrate turning 40, Tommy, c’mon! It’s a milestone birthday!” 

“You just want an excuse to have your own day off,” Tommy had replied, fondly rolling his eyes.

“Well, yeah, sure, but specifically to celebrate you,” Evan had said, like it was simple. 

So Tommy had asked for it off but they never got around to making any plans for it. The day on the calendar sat free and inviting without his notice until suddenly he found himself waking up alone on his 40th birthday, with no plans and no one to have them with. 

He thought about watching his favorite rom-coms to pass the time today but nothing seemed appealing. Hard to watch and invest in the romantic lives of fictional characters where everything works out and the hurt is only temporary and never proceeds past the end credits. 

Tommy wonders when his rom-com started becoming less rom-com-y and more … rom-tragedy? If that’s not a genre then Tommy’s earned the right to patent. He sinks back into his couch, his phone still going off, and keeps staring at his dark television screen. Remembers back to three weeks shy of their six month anniversary when Evan showed up at his door with his favorite take out and a pack of lightbulbs Tommy had mentioned off hand that he needed replacing. 

He remembers gazing up at Evan as he stood on top of the ladder, the light flipping on, wholly fixed. And with the light shining behind his head, Evan looked down at him with an easy smile. 

Yeah, that was the moment. 

Roll credits. 

–

There’s a banging in the distance. Tommy’s eyes flutter open; he’s slumped over on his couch, still facing the blank TV screen.

“Tommy! Open up!”

Tommy groans, pushing himself off the couch and stumbling to his front door if only to stop the incessant knocking.

He flings the door open to find Howie, fist raised to continue disturbing Tommy’s neighbors and most importantly Tommy.

“What?” he grumbles.

“Now is that anyway to greet your old friend?” Howie asks, shoving his way past Tommy into the house. Tommy’s still waking up from his accidental nap on the couch, too slow to stop Howie from intruding further. 

He closes the front door and reluctantly follows Howie into the kitchen.

Howie opens his fridge and whistles. “Just as I suspected,” he says, and then closes the fridge, spinning around to face Tommy.  

Tommy, still waking up, can only raise a single eyebrow in question.

“Your fridge is empty. How are we going to celebrate your birthday with nothing to eat or drink?” 

Rolling his eyes, Tommy collapses onto the bar stool at his kitchen island. “Oh, is that why you’re here?”

“Why wouldn't I be here? It isn't every day your friend turns 40!” 

Tommy eyes Howie, searching for an ulterior motive. He wants to ask about Evan, if Howie is here on Evan’s behalf, but he doesn't. Doesn't think he could handle a “no,” and anyway, he lost the right to ask about Evan when he walked out of his life. 

Eventually, Tommy nods at Howie, agreeing to at least hear him out about dinner. “Okay, so … what are we eating? There's a good Thai place not far from here we can get take out from.”

But Howie’s shaking his head. “Oh, no, no. It's not that easy. Get up, get dressed. We’re going out.”

--

tagging some bucktommy mutuals: @liminalmemories21 @leashybebes @beanarie @alrightbuckaroo

[a-bottle-of-tyelenol]

little izuku & cg katsuki headcanons !!

— requested by anon —

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

🌱 - izuku struggles a lot to regress. he’s a chronic over thinker and can’t get out of his head long enough to settle down. he’s shrouded in constant shame towards his headspace because there are things he could be doing, things he should be doing, and instead of doing them, he sits paralyzed and unable to regress. the only exception is katsuki— who somehow makes izuku small without even trying. all he does is stand too close and izuku is many years smaller, trying to stop himself from leaning in for affection. something about the way he’s constantly so confident that everything will be okay has izuku regressing immediately, as if reminded of why he used to think katsuki was so cool and heroic in the first place.

💥 - katsuki, meanwhile, is very aware of this fact and never knows what to do with it. on one hand, he doesn’t want to further break things he’s already cracked and, on the other, he has no idea how to reciprocate. so, he does what he always does when he’s anxious about friendships— he throws a bunch of stuff at the person he’s friends with and hopes that his actions speak louder than words. for a long time, little izuku survived off the baked sweets katsuki learned how to make from satou and personalized dinners clearly decorated for a child and delivered straight to him (even when he wasn’t small).

🌱 - izuku starts out without any little gear because he hardly managed to regress anyways and he never had the money for it. part of him thought about telling his mom and asking her for things, but he’d always chicken out before he could. it left him with nothing except for his all might merch, which worked well enough. then, katsuki found out and used a ton of his loose spending money on things that izuku could use. he refuses to be unprepared (specifically, he says he “refuses to be caught with his pants down” about it) and keeps a bunch of random things stashed in both their dorm rooms. izuku thinks it’s overkill and gets so embarrassed about it but he does relish in having supplies. there truly is nothing better than plushies and bottles.

💥 - katsuki doesn’t really care for rules as a caregiver but there are three that are absolutely non-negotiable. one, izuku has to eat. it doesn’t matter how busy he is pretending like he can study while half-regressed or spiraling under the pressure of the world, he has to eat something and katsuki will spoon feed him if he has to (he’s done it before and every time, it just leaves him with a whiney baby /affectionate).

two, when katsuki goes to bed, so does izuku. he doesn’t enforce this one when izuku isn’t regressed for obvious reasons, but as much as he loves the kid, he’s not child-rearing past ten pm and he’s not waking up any earlier than 5 am (unless it’s important like a nightmare or accident). izuku doesn’t love this rule so the compromise is that it’s fine if izuku is awake and cuddling katsuki, as long as he’s in bed and not constantly waking him up because he can’t keep still (I headcanon that izuku moves constantly in his sleep and he takes up so much room that katsuki never knows peace when they spend the night together).

three, izuku has to tell him when he’s feeling small or otherwise not good. there have been too many times where izuku bottled things up only to have a massive meltdown that his three year old brain couldn’t handle (it is a little funny that katsuki is so strict about this one because,,, pot meet kettle. he’s just as bad about bottling things up until he crashes out). it’s a very casual system— meaning that izuku will just randomly text katsuki throughout the day that he’s feeling anxious, spacey, weird, etc. and, every time, katsuki will ask if izuku needs him and if he says no, katsuki sends a thumbs up and says to tell him if that changes. if he says yes, however, katsuki will literally drop everything and take off to find him without a single explanation to those he’s around. it’s the same every time, like clockwork, and as much as izuku hates feeling like a burden, he likes routine and he likes knowing what to expect so he stopped shying away from this rule quite early on.

not that there’s really any punishments for breaking the rules, anyways. katsuki is afraid of being too harsh and izuku will cry if he even thinks katsuki is upset with him, so it’s mostly just a lot of katsuki barking (like the least threatening shih tzu ever) at him for not taking care of himself. that said, izuku does become a troublesome toddler in his ‘older’ ages and is an absolute monster to handle because he’s constantly getting into things, running around, and actively trying to give katsuki a heart attack. one time, he decided he wanted to fly around and act like all might, and that’s how katsuki implemented rule four: no goddamn quirks while small.

🌱 - izuku regresses young, usually 1-3, and its like something directly out of katsuki’s memories. izuku has a lot of the same mannerisms, he’s just far more shy than he used to be (and katsuki can’t help thinking that might be his fault). it’s not usually an issue because katsuki, for as abrasive as he can be, is actually pretty good with little kids. but izuku also struggles with being big in a school environment. once he started regressing somewhat regularly, it was like the floodgates opened and he was left with a headspace constantly on the brink of tipping over. school is a very sore subject for him, both because of his history of bullying and isolation, and because he just doesn’t really enjoy it. he likes learning heroics, but everything else just stresses him out because he’s smart but he’s not actually that good at academics (the classic tune of autistic kid meets classes that aren’t about his special interest). he just finds it difficult and that discomfort always pushes him towards regressing in his least favorite classes.

it, of course, stresses katsuki out in turn because he can’t focus on his work if he’s busy worrying about izuku (who is usually fine, by the way. katsuki is very prone to overreacting and mother henning him about everything. at worst, izuku usually just won’t be able to listen to the lesson and, instead, spends the whole time kicking his feet in boredom). the solution is that they pass notes back and forth since they sit in front of each other and it’s mostly izuku doodling things and assuring katsuki that he’s fine. aizawa pretends not to notice on the rare occasions it happens in his classes because he refuses to reprimand them for bettering their relationship after the hell that was the beginning of first year, especially since they aren’t actually disturbing anyone.

💥 - katsuki doesn’t really like it when people touch him, but izuku is always the exception. katsuki runs really warm and izuku likes snuggling with him while watching cartoons with his thumb in his mouth. more often than katsuki (or big izuku) would necessarily like, izuku will trap katsuki on the couches in the commons or will cling to him in the kitchen when he’s trying to help make dinner. in general, little izuku is just really clingy and he hates being cooped up in his dorm so he���s just constantly hovering around katsuki, trying to hang off his arm whenever possible. it’s not that katsuki actually cares that much (unlike big izuku who is mortified by it), it’s more just that it’s hard to juggle keeping tabs on izuku while explaining that no, this doesn’t suddenly mean katsuki wants hugs from everyone else. it takes a couple attempts but, eventually, katsuki’s friends learn that izuku is just the exception because he always is (and they think it’s very sweet, even if they are a little jealous since they want katsuki cuddles too).

[loganwritesprobably]

Hurt/Comfort (the comfort is sex)

Tags/Warnings: Shanks/AFAB!Reader/Mihawk, she/they reader, hurt/comfort (the comfort is sex), shy!reader, established relationship, double penetration two holes, fellatio, spanking, rough sex, cum eating, cream pie Word Count: 1293 A birthday gift written for @mermaniaa

It had been such a long day. Usually, you’d have been more resilient, but not today. Today, the world seemed to just weigh a little heavier on your shoulders and so you tucked yourself away in your room, knees pulled to your chest, face wet with tears. You’d felt ridiculous for breaking down, but sometimes you just couldn’t help it. Nothing much had even happened, everything just felt that little bit more overwhelming than usual. When Mihawk found you, he’d wrapped you up in his arms and gently brushed away the lingering tears, and suggested that he and Shanks make you feel better. You knew the two men well enough by now to know what that would involve, and you said yes, almost eagerly. You hated to seem needy, and talking about intimacy often left you speechless, struggling to convey your wants and needs, but thankfully they found your shyness endearing. 

When Shanks joined you, it didn’t take long for the three of you to be disrobed, and have your hands on each other’s bodies.

Shanks sighed softly as he sunk into your heat, Mihawk humming appreciatively at the view, stroking himself slowly to maintain hardness but not truly bring himself pleasure. You looked wonderful spread so widely, with his hands holding your ankles, pulling your knees back to your shoulders so the swordsman could bask in the heavenly image the two of you made. There was always something so special about the three of you together and the love you could make, the chemistry between you lighting up and making you all insatiable, until at least four rounds later. You’d always been shy about it, their beautiful princess, struggling to share what you wanted in moments of intimacy, and before, flushing darkly in a way they both found incredibly sweet, and a turn on in Shanks’ case. Innocence had always been a thing for him. Shanks rocked his hips slightly, not fully thrusting into you, just moving enough to drive you crazy, and force whatever you were thinking about out of your head. 

You couldn’t help whining, lip pulled between your teeth, needy for more but unable to ask for it.

“What is it, dearest?” Mihawk asked, a small smirk playing at his lips. He knew, of course he did, but the game was to try to get you to say it. You only whined again, attempting to grind yourself down on Shanks for more.

“Oh I don’t think so pretty girl.” Shanks said, moving one hand from around your ankle to wrap instead around your middle, including your thighs, to hold you in place. You whimpered pitifully, and you just about caught the hungry look on Mihawk’s face.

“I think they might want something, love.” He said to Shanks, who chuckled lowly against your ear, you could feel the sound just as much as you heard it. 

“I think you might be right, Hawkeyes. Should we give it to her?” He asked, slowly licking up the shell of your ear.

“Perhaps we should. Or maybe she should ask for it, like a good girl.” Mihawk’s voice was honey thick, the words oozing from his lips and lighting a fire inside you, making you ever more desperate, and wetter around Shanks’ cock.

“I know they can do it, we’ve seen it before, shame they don’t want to right now. I guess they don’t want any more than this then.” And that was too far, to suggest you weren’t eager and desperate for them, whimpering and whining for them and them alone.

“Please.” You managed to breathe out, just barely, the sound only audible because Shanks had stopped moving entirely in his effort to make you speak your desires. 

“What was that, darling?” Mihawk asked, shuffling closer to you to rest a hand on your thigh, making you bite your lip - even the simplest of their touches drove you wild.

“Please! Need- need you.” You managed, your face only flushing darker, and you couldn’t help squeezing your eyes shut as if to hide from your own embarrassment.

“Good girl.” Shanks whispered, voice dark and husky. For a second, the tension of the room was as thick as it could get, like an elastic pulled to full extension, and then it snapped, and then everything was happening. Shanks flipped you both over, pressing your body down into the mattress as he lifted your hips. You turned your head so you could breathe better, and found Mihawk in front of you with his dick in hand.

Slowly, with a loud, heady groan Shanks pushed back inside you, grunting as he bottomed out, barely able to wait for a moment before he began to fuck you. He struggled so much more than Mihawk to restrain himself, especially when he knew exactly what you wanted, but he couldn’t deny that you were so beautiful when you were shy and needy. Mihawk waited a moment for you to adjust, just watching the pleasure on your face, before he stepped forward, taking some of your hair in hand to get your attention. You opened your mouth before your eyes, mostly on instinct, and were greeted by his dick just centimetres from your lips.

“Well done, darling. You’ve done such a good job learning how to please us.” He looked and sounded so proud, and it was dizzying. He slowly pushed into your mouth, and then allowed you to do as you pleased. He’d never had complaints about your head before, he wasn’t going to start guiding you now.

It was easy to get distracted by Shanks pounding into you, temporarily stealing your attention as he hit your gspot over and over, but a quick swat on your ass was enough to remind you what you were meant to be doing. You sucked Mihawk eagerly, happy to do it, eager to make your lover feel good. He worked so hard, he deserved it, and you wanted to taste his cum. It usually wasn’t something that you were particularly interested in, but you loved to do it with them, your men. 

Shanks was no slouch when it came to sex, but it’d been a while since the three of you had indulged together, so you weren’t surprised when his hips began to stutter, his rhythm faltering as he came closer to orgasm.

“Gonna fill you up, sweet girl. Make sure you can feel my love inside you.” Shanks grunted, kissing down your spine, fingers digging into your hips as he fucked into you. Just a few thrusts later, and he bottomed out inside you again, filling you with his seed. You never faltered your own movements, hollowing your cheeks to bring Mihawk closer to orgasm. The swordsman made hardly any sound, the only sign of his pleasure being the soft pants that escaped him whenever your tongue moved just so. Finally, in an uncharacteristic moment of impatience, Mihawk pulled out from your mouth and took himself in hand. He stroked himself quickly, head tilting back from his pleasure. You tilted your head further, so when he finally came, he coated your face and neck with his seed.

Reluctantly, Shanks pulled out of you, but then crouched down to press his tongue inside you, eating his own cum from inside you eagerly. He ate like a man starved, his tongue moving expertly to bring you more pleasure until you came like that, his face pressed to your core, Mihawk’s cum on your face. The swordsman dragged a finger across your face with a smile, bringing his cum to your lips for you to take, sucking gently on his finger to clean it.

When they were done, they took their posts either side of you, holding you close, pressing kisses to your skin.

Tags: @cainnoable @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @categoryace

If you'd like to tip me and get exclusive ficlets, Kofi

[livingdreams97]

Jackie Taylor -- "Our Destiny" (Part 1)

Jackie Taylor x Male reader/oc

Summary: What happens when a plane crashes in the middle of the Canadian Wilderness full of teenagers? How something as traumatic as that can affect the people and and how they find comfort in each other.

Words: 6.190

NEXT

Masterlist

(For the reader I thought of Wolfgang Novogratz, but everyone can imagine reader how they want.)

_________1996__________

Your POV 

I drop the pieces of firewood I've collected into the pile on the ground and sit down on the stump to rest for a bit. I've spent the last three hours walking between the woods and the cabin collecting firewood non-stop, and I need a break.

From my vantage point, I can see what some of the girls are doing and I sit there for a moment watching them. Things are a bit tense lately, some of the girls are acting a bit weird and especially Lottie.

After what happened at the Seance a few weeks ago, I've noticed that Lottie has been a bit quieter, more withdrawn and distracted, as if she were in her own world.

This worries me a lot, because I don't know if her behavior could be due to the lack of medication or something else. It's the first time since she was diagnosed that she has gone so long without taking her medication and I don't know what the consequences of this could be.

Taissa: Hey.- she greets me standing next to me. -I've been thinking about something and I want to know if you'd like to join me.- she tells me and I focus my gaze on her.

Y/n: Hey.- I greeted back looking at her with curiosity. -Should I be afraid of what you thought?- I asked her with a certain humor.

Taissa: Considering you're scared of bees... - she mocks me with a big smile.

Y/n: I'm not afraid of bees, I'm allergic to them, ALLERGIC and I could die if they sting me. - I reproach her with an offended grimace.

Taissa: Whatever.- she dismisses me with her hand and a smile. - I've been thinking and I realise we should get out of here in search of help or something to eat. It's possible that the animals are migrating or that there's someone out there.- she tells me and I look at her a bit skeptically.

Y/n: I don't know Tai, if there was someone they would have appeared a long time ago from the noise the plane made against the ground.- I comment somewhat unsure.

Taissa: But what if there is someone or a small town far away enough so that they didn't hear the accident? - she tells me with some confidence. - What if there is a small town or a cabin like this one a few days walk away with people who can help us? - she hypothesizes with a small smile.

Y/n: And if there isn't one? - I ask trying to be realistic, since even with her approach the radius that the noise of the accident would had reached, is very extensive.

Taissa: And if there isn't, maybe we can find animals or something to bring back to camp.- she insists with a confident gesture.

Y/n: I don't know Tai.- I deny getting up from the stump. -I can't just get up and leave Lottie here.- I sigh looking towards where the mentioned one is.

Taissa: Lottie is old enough for you to keep an eye on her.- she assures me, crossing her arms.

Y/n: Are you going to tell me that you haven't noticed a differece in her? - I ask her, focusing my attention back on her.

Taissa: Different? More like a little disturbed.- she comments and I look at her badly, making her throw her hands in the air. -Sorry, it was a joke.- she apologizes immediately. -But still, it's not your responsibility.- she assures me placing a hand on my shoulder.

Y/n: She's my twin sister, of course she's my responsibility.- I remind her with a grimace. -I can't just leave her here for I don't know how many days.- I deny letting out a tired sigh.

Taissa: But you're not leaving her because you want to, but because we're going to go find help or food for everyone. This way you're going to help her a lot more than being behind her all day and worrying about everything she does or says. - she assures me with a slight smile and letting her squeeze my shoulder.

Y/n: I'm not sure.- I murmur trying to think of what is the most appropriate thing to do.

Taissa: Give it a tought and tell me.- she tells me in a calm voice.

We both stand in silence for a few seconds, before a commotion comes from the front of the cabin and out of the woods appear Travis and Nat with a dead deer.

Van: Meat, Fuck Yeah! -she exclaims excitedly as she passes by us quickly.

We all immediately approached them, happy that they were able to hunt and that we could eat something other than belt soup.

Van: Wow, that thing is knarly.- she says when both hunters pass by her and she sees the deer's antlers.

Akilah: It's like Freddy Krueger and Bambi had a baby.- she comments with some disgust when they leave the deer on the ground.

Javi: I'm not eating that.-he immediately denies looking at the dead animal.

Ben: Guys, relax.- asks the trainer approaching the deer. -Deer shed their antlers every season. This is normal.- he explains calmly. -Shauna, do the honors?- he asks her, his breathing a little labored from the effort.

Shauna quickly takes the knife out of her backpack, approaches the deer and begins to open its stomach to empty it.

As soon as she opens its stomach, we can all see the worms moving through the deer's organs and I have to look away to avoid throwing up.

Jackie: That's normal too, Coach? - she asks with a disgusted gesture.

Lottie: I'm not crazy.-I hear her mutter in front of me on her knees on the floor.

Laura Lee: No.-she denies in a whisper. -You have a gift.-she assures me and I open my eyes scared at her answer.

Taissa: We cannot keep fucking doing this, you guys.- she assures moving to the side. -What happens when winter gets here? We fucking starve to death or freeze?- she says, upset by the situation. -We can't count on getting rescued anymore. All of us know that is not going to happen, we have to save us.- she says confidently. -That's why I'm gonna go find help. I'm leaving in the morning, come with me if you want to get out of this fucking hellhole. - says as she walks safely into the cabin.

I just stay silent for a few moments, before sighing and walking towards the lake to be alone for a while.

I need to think about what I have to do and it will be impossible to do so near the abaña and the girls. So I walk calmly through the forest, thinking about the pros and cons of going with Taissa or staying with the rest.

Once at the lake, I sit on the shore on the stones and watch the slight movement of the water.

I don't know how long I spend staring at the water, until I hear footsteps behind me and when I look over my shoulder I see Jackie holding a bucket.

Jackie: Hey.- she greets me tiredly, walking towards the shore and filling the bucket with water.

Y/n: Hey.- I greet back watching as she puts the bucket aside and sits next to me. -Do you think Taissa's idea is crazy?- I ask her after a few seconds of silence.

Jackie: I don't know.- she answers with a sigh. -What I do know is that in a certain way she's right and that scares me.- she tells me in a low voice.

Y/n: Is the great captain Jackie Taylor afraid of something? - I asked with humor and receiving a slap on the arm from her.

Jackie: Idiot.- she insults me while laughing and I look at her with a proud smile for making her laugh.

Since the accident, I have noticed that Jackie is the one who is having the most difficulty adapting to the situation and that her mood is increasingly sad.

She is the one who has always been sure that they would come to rescue us and I have realized that with each passing day, that hope of being rescued is disappearing more and more from her eyes.

Y/n: Now seriously, you're afraid that they won't rescue us, right? - I ask her softly.

Jackie: It's been months and still no one has shown up.- she answers me with some apprehension in her voice.

Y/n: That doesn't mean they aren't looking for us.- I tell her to try to cheer her up a little.

Jackie: No, but it doesn't mean they'll find us either.- she whispers, placing her knees against her chest and her chin on them. -We both know that with each day that passes without them finding us, the probability that they'll stop looking for us and leave us for dead increases.- she explains to me with some fear and sadness in her voice.

I sigh with some sadness at her words, because in a way she is right and I don't want to think about it.

I approach the soccer captain, standing just a few inches away from her body and placing my hand on her lower back and moving it in circles to try to comfort her.

She leans into me and places her head on my shoulder relaxing her body against mine.

Y/n: They will find us, I promise.- I whisper against her head, resting my forehead on it. -But I need you to promise me something.- I ask her, swallowing hard.

Jackie: What? - she whispers, getting closer to my body and hugging me around my waist.

Y/n: Promise me that you will take care of Lottie when I'm not here.- I ask her with some fear that the madness I'm doing is permanent.

Jackie: What are you talking about? - she asks me, separating from me and looking at me with concern.

Y/n: I'm going to go with Tai.- I answer and she immediately shakes her head.

Jackie: You can't go, you can't, not you.- she tells me with some panic.

Y/n: I have to do it.- I assure her, looking her in the eyes. -I have to try, Lottie is not well and we can't continue like this much longer. The least I can do is try and seek help.- I explain to her with apprehension about the situation.

Jackie: But what if it doesn't work out? If some wild animal appears, or you guys get lost and can't get back, or any of the thousands of other things that could happen? - she asks me worriedly, waving her hands in an exaggerated manner.

Y/n: Nothing is going to happen.- I assure her, grabbing her hands and trying to calm her down. -The worst that could happen is that we don't find anything and we have to come back empty handed.- I explain to convince her.

Jackie: But what if...- she continues with the possibilities but I interrupt her before she can say anything else.

Y/n: Nothing is going to happen.- I tell her confidently and without taking my gaze off hers.

Jackie: Nothing is going to happen.- she repeats, nodding her head and looking me straight in the eyes.

We stay a few more moments looking into each other's eyes, before she puts her head back on my shoulder and hugs me tightly around the waist.

I put my arms around her shoulders, resting my head on hers and letting the sound of the lake be the only thing that can be heard.

Jackie's POV

It's been two and a half days since Akilah, Van, Taissa, Misty, Y/n and Mari went out in search of something.

As I promised Y/n, I've been keeping an eye on Lottie and talking to her at least a couple of times a day, to see how she's doing.

I try to ask her simple questions, so she doesn't feel like I'm interrogating her and get defensive.

But at most ,she will lose focus during the conversation and stare off into the distance for a few moments before continuing with the conversation like nothing. Which is not entirely worrying.

Plus, she and Laura Lee spend all day together, so it gives me some peace of mind that at least she's not out in the woods alone.

On the other hand, I have discovered that my best friend, the person in whom I had complete trust, has lied to me and betrayed me in the worst possible way.

Our entire friendship based on sincerity and trust has been a farce.

I knew something wasn't right the moment she told me her story with Randy and how she got pregnant.

If what she told me about losing her virginity at Mari's birthday party were to be true, she would have told me as soon as it happened. But she didn't and the biggest lie is that Jeff and I took drunk Randy home that night.

So it couldn't have been after we left and it couldn't have been before either, since Shauna was with me, Jeff and some of her friends all night.

But I didn't know that the reason for her lie and the person she actually slept with was my boyfriend.

My best friend has betrayed me in the worst way possible and has slept with my boyfriend. Also, in her diary are written all the times they did it and it wasn't just once, it was several times.

I don't know how she could do this to me, sleep with my own boyfriend and then get pregnant by him. How could she do this to me. How can she look at me in the eyes and lie in my face with no trace of guilt.

I don't even know how to look at her face without imagining them together, without feeling betrayed and imagining everything else she could have lied to me about.

I quickly get up from my chair when I see Misty, Mari and Akilah appearing through the forest, almost out of breath.

Jackie: Oh, my god. What happened?- I ask them, walking quickly and holding Misty before she fell to the ground.

Shauna: Where are Van, Tai and Y/n? -she asks, also getting up from her chair.

Misty: She...she told...she told us to leave them. We had to get help.-she tells us as best she can between breaths and Nat and Shauna grab her.

Lottie: Where is Y/n?-she asks Mari with a certain panic in her voice.

Laura Lee: Show us which way to go.- she asks her, grabbing her by the shoulders and staring at her.

Misty points to the path they came from and we all quickly set off.

We run quickly, following the instructions and directions given to us by Misty, who is at the head of everyone.

After running for a while, the darkness begins to hide everything around us and we decide that the best thing to do is to walk. So, lighting some lanterns, we walk quickly, looking everywhere.

Shauna: Van! - she shouts from in front of me.

Laura Lee: Taissa!- she shouts loudly from the front of the group.

Lottie: Y/n!- she shouts from behind me with obvious concern.

Laura Lee: Are you sure you came this way? -she asks the one leading us through the darkness.

Misty: I.. I don't know. I can't see anything.- she answers with uncertainty in her voice. -It's so dark.-she says looking around.

We stopped for a few seconds to catch our breath and looked around for something to guide us. It was then that we heard a noise and saw one of the flares rising between the trees.

Laura Lee: It's them.-she points with her finger and we quickly start running in that direction.

We run for a couple of minutes between the trees, immediately spotting the three of them on their knees on the ground and looking very bad.

Lottie: Y/n!- she exclaims, running towards her brother and kneeling next to him on the ground.

When we get closer we can see why the urgency, as Van has her face covered with rags and we can see the blood on her clothes. As can the pale color on Taissa and Y/n's faces.

We set off immediately, with most of the girls carrying Van, Misty and Laura Lee helping Tai, and Lotti and I carrying her brother.

As I help him up from the floor, I place a hand on his side and feel something cold and wet against my palm.

I raise my hand to my face, feeling my heart racing in my ears and my throat feeling dry as I swallow. I open my eyes, startled, when I make out the reddish color of blood in the light from the lanterns.

Jackie: Y/n.- I murmur scared seeing the boy's pale and sweaty face.

Misty: We have to get them there as soon as possible so we can stitch up their wounds.- she says hurriedly, encouraging us to walk as quickly as possible to the cabin.

So as quickly as possible, we managed to get to the cabin in record time and the girls got going.

Misty: Who goes first? - she asks as they clear the table, place candles around it, and Akilah searches for the materials.

Y/n: Van has to go first.- he answers in a low voice. -She is worse than me, I can hold on.- he assures the group with a small grimace.

Shauna: Van, are you ready? - she asks as they lay her down on the candlelit table.

The redhead lets out a grunt of pain, as Lottie and I place Y/n into one of the chairs.

Misty: We have to take off his clothes from the waist up. - She approaches us and reaches out her hands to do it.

Jackie: No.- I stop her immediately. -Lottie and I will do it.- I assure her, standing in front of her so she doesn't come any closer.

Misty: With the shirt you will have to press the wound to stop it from bleeding further.- she explains to me and I nod knowing what I have to do.

I turn towards the injured boy, approaching with uncertain steps and observing him in more detail thanks to the light from the cabin.

The black haired man, his green eyes are half-closed due to tiredness, has lost all the color in his face, you can see the sweat soaking his face and the locks of hair that are normally pushed back are stuck to his forehead.

On the other hand, the blue t-shirt and the grey sweatshirt are covered in dirt and blood, as are his jeans.

I quickly approach him, aware that he is not in a very good condition and that every minute is worth gold.

Lottie: You're going to be okay.- she whispers, stroking his hair. -Nothing's going to happen to you, It won't let anything happen to you.- she assures him with conviction and I look at her a little scared by the tone in which she is saying it.

Jackie: Lottie, help me take off his clothes.- I ask my teammate in a hurry.

Y/n: Damm Jackie, I knew you had the hots for me. - he scoffs with sense of humor, letting out a grunt when we move him to take off his sweatshirt.

Jackie: In your dreams.- I tell him with a slight smile, to try to ease the tension and play along.

When we managed to remove his shirt, you can see the wound on his side and it doesn't look good at all.

You can see the wolf's teeth and the cuts they left behind. There are at least five long cuts and about seven fairly large perforations on the side of his stomach and back.

You can see the blood gushing from the wounds and I have to hold back my gagging at the image.

Jackie: This is going to hurt.- I whispered softly, before placing his shirt over the wounds and pressing with both hands to stop the bleeding.

Y/n: Fuck.- he grunts in pain trying to get away from my hands.

Jackie: Lottie hold him.- I ask her, making her grab him by the shoulders and hold him still.

I press my hands against the wounds again and this time thanks to Lottie, Y/n doesn't get away from my hands no matter how hard he tries.

But Lottie's strength is affected when Akilah starts stitching Van up and she starts to let out pain-filled grunts.

The brunette immediately sits on the floor, placing her knees against her chest and covering her ears with the palms of her hands.

Y/n: Lot, don't listen.- he growls trying to get his sister's attention. -Lot, look at me.- he stretches his hands towards her with great effort. -Charlotte Matthews look at me right now.- he orders her and she surprisingly does it. -Come closer.- he asks her with a sigh.

Lottie walks over to her brother and he immediately pulls her close to his body. As I apply pressure to his wound, I can hear him whispering things to his sister to reassure her and distract her from what's happening on the other side of the room.

But after a few moments, I stop hearing the whispers from Y/n and I look at his closed eyes.

Jackie: Shit! - I exclaimed scared, stopping pressing on the wound and grabbing his cheeks. -Y/n, wake up. Keep your eyes open, wake up! - I exclaimed hitting him on the cheek trying to get him to react but nothing.

Lottie: Y/n.- she whispers, separating herself from her brother's thigh and looking at him scared. -It's not your turn.- she murmurs confused, placing her hand on her brother's bare chest.

Jackie: Girls hurry up, Y/n has lost consciousness! - I shout for them to hear me, without stopping hitting the boy's cheeks and trying to wake him up.

Natalie: Don't fuck with me.- she growls when she reaches us and takes his pulse. -Does anyone else know how to sew?- she asks the girls with some panic.

Misty: Me! - she exclaims quickly raising her hand.

I look at Nat, a little unsure and worried that Misty will stitch up Y/n's wound and I can see that she feels the same as me.

Natalie: We have no choice.- she murmurs, looking at me with apprehension. -Misty, grab a needle and thread quickly. We'll put him on the floor.- she says, grabbing him by one of his arms.

I do the same and with Lottie's help we get him on the ground as quickly as possible.

Misty: I have everything.- she tells us, throwing herself on her knees beside us. -I need more light.- she tells us while she begins to put the thread on the curved needle for fishing.

Nat: I'm going to get more candles.- she says getting up and I do the same with her.

We both grab some candles and run back to where Y/n, Lottie and Misty are. We place the candles on the ground near the wound, lighting them so Misty can see what she's stitching.

I swallow hard, feeling my hands shake from fear and worry that Y/n will die.

I move to the other side of Misty, kneeling at his hip and grabbing his hand. I bring the hand to my chest, praying that Misty will stitch him up quickly so that the bleeding stops and he can survive.

Your POV

I pull the chair over next to Jackie's and sit down a bit carefully, trying not to let the stitches pull too hard. But I can't help but let out a little grunt as I lean forward and take my share of the bear meat.

Jackie: Are you okay? - she asks me in a whisper, placing her hand on my thigh and leaving a light squeeze there.

Y/n: Yeah, I just moved too fast.- I play it down with a smile and she returns it.

She also leans forward and receives her plate with her ration from the redhead, while the others talk about whether we should wait for Nat and Travis or not.

Van: Lottie, last night you said we wouldn't be hungry much longer. How did you know? -she asks my sister and I feel my body tense immediately.

Everything that happened last night was absolutely crazy and I don't know what the hell went through their heads to make them act the way they did.

Because the mushroom excuse doesn't work for me, since we're all supposed to have eaten them and not all of us tried to sacrifice Travis. Especially not with the way my own sister, Shauna, and Mari jumped on me when I came down from the attic with Jackie, before Travis showed up completely out of it and they jumped on him immediately.

Lottie: I just did.-she answers, chewing what she has in her mouth.

Y/n: She didn't know anything, it was pure coincidence, okay? - I say seriously and avoiding looking at my sister at all costs.

Jackie: Yeah, it's called getting lucky.- she supports me, giving my thigh another squeeze. - The bear probably just smelled us and came looking for food, okay? Probably had something wrong with him. - she says in a logical way to take a bite of her meat.

Misty: It didn't look sick.-she denies sitting to my right.

Mari: Honestly, at this point I don't even think I care.- she says sitting at the table. -Can we just eat?- she asks, wanting to leave the subject aside.

Van: Wait.- she asks, drawing everyone's attention. -Should we maybe... say something? Like... like thanks or grace or.. whatever- she asks, somewhat unsure.

The dining room falls completely silent for a few moments, during which no one knows what to say or how to act in response to the question.

Taissa: Yeah.-she nods, leaving her glass on the table. -Just make it quick.-she asks her girlfriend and I can't help the frustrated grunt that escapes me.

Van: Lot?- she asks my sister and I can only roll my eyes and continue eating.

Lottie: Sure, let's join our hands.-she says leaving her ration aside and shaking hands with the trainer and Shauna.

From my peripheral vision, I see a hand approaching from my right, so I look up from my plate and see Misty holding out her hand to me.

I just stare at her for a few seconds, alternating my gaze between her eyes and her hand, before shaking my head and turning my head towards Jackie, seeing that she thinks the same as me.

Lottie: For this gift from the wilderness, we give our thanks.-she begins to say and my right knee begins to bounce from the tension.

Van: Thank you.- she says to my sister's words, urging her to continue.

Lottie: To the spirit of the bear, who sacrificed so that we could survive, we give our thanks.-she says and they all give thanks. -And to the ancient gods of the sky and the dirt, we give our thanks.-it continues and everyone thanks again.

Misty: You two didn't say it.-she whispers looking at the girl to my left and me. -Jackie and Y/n didn't say it.- she accuses us loudly so that everyone present knows.

Y/n: The fuck is your problem?-I asked the curly-haired blonde with a murderous look.

Jackie: No, I didn't thank the dirt for bringing us a brain-dead bear. What is even happening right now? -she asks, impressed by the group's attitude. -The fuck is wrong with you all?- she asks the girls, leaning forward.

Taissa: It's fine, you guys. They don't have to... -she comes to our defense but the team captain interrupts her.

Jackie: Oh, shut up Tai.- she scoffs at her. -Don't pretend like you weren't a part of it. What, we're... we're just not going to talk about it? - she asks everyone present. -We just howl at the moon now and have fucking orgies or support incest?- she says and I tense up even more at the last thing she said. -And somehow we are the ones who did something wrong? -She shrugs her shoulders, angry at the whole situation.

Ben: Whoa, wait, what?- he asks completely surprised by what he just heard.

Shauna: Jackie, calm down.-she asks her best friend, but I can see that this only makes her angrier.

Jackie: Don't tell me to calm down!-she exclaims angrily, getting up from her chair. - What were you gonna do to Travis last night, Sahuna? - she asks, approaching her and crossing her arms. -Answer me.-she asks after a few seconds of silence.

Shauna: I don't know. I don't remember. -she answers with some uncertainty, her gaze fixed on the ground.

Jackie: Bullshit.-she reproaches, not believing what she has just heard. -You had a knife to his throat. If we hadn't come, you would have killed him.- she accuses her with total honesty.

Shauna: Just shut up!-she exclaims angrily, getting up from her seat. -None of this would have happened if it wasn't for you. If you hadn't...-she accuses quickly, approaching her without finishing the sentence.

Jackie: Hadn't what? Huh?-she asks without reacting to his proximity. -Stolen him? Wow. The irony.- she scoffs again. -Shauna was fucking Jeff behind my back, you know that?- she asks and I open my eyes in surprise. -Yeah. That's who's really responsible for her little bundle of joy.-she tells everyone present and I stare at her, worried about her.

Shauna: It was you.-she accuses her with a certain hurt tone. -You read my journal.-she explains without taking her eyes off the one who was her best friend.

Jackie: How could you? - she accuses her with pain in her voice. -You were my best friend. You.. you.. you don't even like him.-she says in a hurt face.

Shauna : And how would you know? - she asks her angrily with a broken voice. -You're so obsessed with yourself, I'm surprised I'm aware other people even exist.-she reproaches this time with some malice.

Y/n: Girls, I think it's best to stop now.- I say, getting up and leaving the empty plate aside.

Shauna: You know you never even asked me if I wanted to go to Rutgers? You just assumed I would go wherever you wanted.-She reproaches her with more and more annoyance in her voice. -You tell me what to wear, what to do, who to hook up with. I don't even like soccer!-shouts the last part. -But you just get everything you want. All the time like it's nothing. And the rest of us, we are just extras in the movie of your fucking life.- she accuses her angrily and with some pain in her tone.

Jackie: Oh, my God. You are such a cliché.- she exclaims, hurt and upset by what she just said. -Oh, is the.. is the sad little sidekick mad?- she asks with a certain sarcasm. -Did I force you to live in my shadow, Shauna? It must be hard being this jealous all the time.-she says, earning a short laugh in response.

Y/n: Girls, seriously, stop.- I ask them taking a couple of steps towards them, but a hand on my sweatshirt stops me. -What are you doing?- I ask Van confused and she shakes her head.

Jackie: What? You're so fucking jealous of me, you can barely breathe.-she reproaches Shipman, hurt and angry with her.

Shauna: Are you quoting Beaches at me right now? - she asks with a gesture of confusion.

Jackie: What? No.-she denies, confused by the question.

Shauna: I'm not jealous of you, Jackie. I fell sorry for you. Because you're weak and I think that deep down, you know it. - she says taking a few steps towards her. -I'm sure everyone back home is so fucking sad to be losing their perfect little princess, but they will never know how tragic and boring and insecure you really are.- she continues without measuring her words. -Or how high school was the best your life was ever going to get.-she finishes saying in a somewhat aggressive way and I can see the damage those words are doing to Jax.

Jackie: Fuck you.-she says with a slightly broken voice. -That's it. You know what? That's it. Get.. get out.-she orders pointing to the cabin door.

Y/n: Jax, stop.-I ask her, trying to get closer, but the redhead keeps holding me by the clothes and preventing me from doing so.

Jackie: Go on, get out.-she repeats with a little more force.

Shauna: No.- she shakes her head, her eyes wide.

Jackie: I can't be around you, I... I can't even fucking look at you right now.- She says completely hurt.

Shauna: Well, that sounds like your problem. So maybe you should leave.-she ignores the order and stands in her place while maintaining eye contact.

Everyone remains completely silent for a few seconds, processing the words of the two friends and the situation that is happening at this moment.

Mari: Maybe you would be better off, since we're all so crazy.-she reproaches the captain, supporting Shauna.

Ben: Okay, everybody just stop. Nobody is going outside.-he orders us all seriously.

Lottie: Stay out of it, Coach.-she tells him with a murderous look.

Y/n: No, you stay out of it. You already did enough last night.-I say to my twin, giving her a dirty look, angry and fed up with her attitude.

Jackie: You know what? Fine.-she says walking towards the sleeping things and grabbing her blanket and pillow.

Taissa: Jackie, come on. Don't go outside.-she asks her friend, somewhat tired.

Jackie: Don't pretend like this isn't what you wanted the entire fucking time.- she responds with obvious anger.

Y/n: Don't be silly, Jax.- I ask her, releasing myself from Van's grip and walking towards her. -The temperatures are dropping and sleeping outside is dangerous.- I assure her, worried about her.

Jackie: I don't care, I'm not going to be where I'm not wanted and clearly this isn't it.- she denies looking me in the eyes. -I don't even know who you are anymore.-she says to the one who was her best friend.

Shauna: Or maybe you never did.-she assures her and that is all she needs to leave the cabin and slam the door.

The room is tensely silent for a few moments, until I hear a murmur and explode.

Y/n: What the hell is wrong with you two? - I ask completely angry. - We are all here together, for better and for worse, and no one has more right than anyone to be in the cabin. - I comment looking at the pregnant girl. - And let me tell you that as a friend, you leave a lot to desire. Not only have you betrayed your best friend, but you have dumped all your frustration on her and used her insecurities against her to hurt her. What kind of best friend does that? - I ask her completely impressed by her evilness.

Shauna: You don't know anything.- she claims, directing her anger towards me.

Y/n: And I don't need to know.- I deny between my teeth. -With what I just saw, it seems more than enough to know what kind of person you are and believe me, you are not the type I want by my side in a situation like the one we are in.- I finish looking at her with repulsion, before grabbing two blankets and a pillow to leave the cabin.

Lottie: You can't go out.- she forbids me, standing in front of the door so I can't open it.

Y/n: Charlotte, get out of the way right now.- I ordered her, annoyed by her attitude.

Lottie: No.- she denies strongly and crosses her arms.

Y/n: You move or I move you. But I'm not staying here with you two. - I assure her, looking at her with my eyes half closed.

Lottie: No.- she repeats in a slower manner, but with the same authoritative tone of voice.

Y/n: You asked for it.- I remind her grabbing her by the arm and pulling her to the side, trying not to use too much force to hurt her, but enough to move her.

Once I push her away from the door, I open it and walk outside, slamming the door behind me.

At the sound of the door, Jackie turns her head towards me at the noise and frowns when she sees me.

I just walk towards her, dropping the things in my arms to the ground and sitting on the wooden log carefully.

Jackie: What are you doing? - she asks me in a low and broken voice without taking her eyes off me.

Y/n: Keeping you company.- I answer shrugging my shoulders. -You're crazy if you think I'm going to leave you here alone and stay in there with them.- I explain looking at her as if she were crazy, causing a small laugh from her at my gesture.

Jackie: Thank you.- she whispers looking at her hands.

Y/n: You don't have to thank me for anything.- I assure her with an amused grimace.

I put one of my arms over her shoulders, pulling her close to my body. I place a kiss on her forehead, feeling her snuggle up against my chest and hug my waist tightly, but careful of my wounds.

She looks up at me, placing a hand on the back on my neck and pulling at It to join our lips in a soft kiss. When she pulls away, her eyes shine full off life ande a small smile appears in her face.

We just sit together outside watching the sun disappear and observing the flames of the fire move in the darkness of the forest night.

[sturniololuvz]

haha it would be so okay if you did freaky stuff. anyway for now do you think you could do a fic where y/n their sister is kinda in a bad mood because of her period and the triplets keep like joking and messing with her until they realize why shes so mad and they apologize. also thanks for being so active you're the best

lol! okayy!

“Oh… That Makes Sense”

Sturniolos x sister

Y/N had been in a terrible mood all day. Everything annoyed her—the way Nick kept tapping his fingers on the table, the way Matt chewed too loudly, and especially the way Chris wouldn’t stop throwing random objects at her just to get a reaction.

She sat on the couch, arms crossed, eyes glued to her phone, trying to block out the sound of her brothers goofing off in the kitchen. They were being extra obnoxious today, and she had zero patience for it.

“Yo, Y/N, catch!” Chris suddenly called, tossing a balled-up sock at her head.

She barely flinched, just turned to glare at him. “Chris, I swear to God—”

“Woahhh, relax,” he laughed. “Why you so grumpy today?”

“Maybe she didn’t get enough sleep,” Matt suggested, smirking.

“Or maybe she forgot to eat,” Nick added. “You get all cranky when you’re hungry.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and groaned. “Oh my God, can you three just shut up for like five seconds? You are so annoying.”

“Damn,” Chris muttered, exchanging looks with Matt and Nick. “Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Y/N had reached her breaking point. “I AM ON MY PERIOD, OKAY?!” she shouted, standing up.

The room went dead silent. The triplets all stared at her, eyes wide like deer caught in headlights.

“Oh,” Nick finally said, blinking.

Chris slowly nodded. “That… makes sense.”

Matt winced. “Yeah, okay, that explains a lot.”

Y/N let out a frustrated sigh and flopped back onto the couch, rubbing her temples. “You guys have been annoying me all day, and I already feel like crap. Just leave me alone for five minutes, please.”

There was another beat of silence before the triplets suddenly scrambled into action.

“Do you want a heating pad?” Nick asked. “I think Mom has one in the bathroom.”

Chris nodded. “Or chocolate. We have chocolate, right? Matt, go get some.”

“Right, right! And do you need pain meds? I can grab those too,” Matt offered.

Y/N blinked, a little taken aback by their sudden shift in attitude. She sighed but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay… that would actually be nice.”

Within minutes, she was wrapped in a blanket, heating pad on her stomach, chocolate in one hand, and water in the other.

Chris sat beside her, looking sheepish. “Sorry for messing with you earlier.”

“Yeah,” Nick added. “We didn’t know.”

Matt ruffled her hair lightly. “We still love you, even when you’re scary.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I love you idiots too.”

[maybequinnidk]

I'm Good At Loving You (You're Good At Loving Me) pt. 2

part 1

(hurt/comfort i think. feedback is appreciated, i'm new to this)

Kara notices after that conversation at the Tower three weeks ago something started to change.

Lena stays over almost everyday, and they develop a domestic routine: sometimes they're lucky enough to spend some more minutes in bed before properly starting the day, just enjoying the other's company. Then they eat breakfast, wash the dishes, sweep the floor, take out the trash. After that they shower and get ready for the rest of their day. They have a late lunch with their team and go back to their respective tasks. By the time she goes back home Lena is usually there, if they didn't go together.

Kara's favorite part is the relief of coming home and finding Lena making dinner, or reading a book on the couch, or coming out of the shower, or- Kara's favorite part is Lena. And today she's...

Not here.

As if today wasn't awful enough already.

She came in through the window and falteringly made her way to the kitchen, leaning over the countertop.

She finds a note on top of it in Lena's handwriting "forgot my phone at the lab, portal watch is still broken :/ BRB "

Not even five minutes later her partner arrives. She barely opens the door and Kara envelopes her in a hug. Lena is quick to reciprocate despite the suddenness.

"Oh. Hi. I came back as fast as I could, are you okay?"

Today was a hectic day. She had to leave early in the morning and missed breakfast, the villain of the week was turning into villain of the month, she'd been running on nothing but a sandwich, a bag of chips and yellow star radiation for the past 12 hours, and to top it all off she solar flared. She used the last bit of her powers to fly home. She didn't break anything and didn't get sick, but still, everything hurts.

She shakes her head.

"Oh, darling. Let's go inside and talk about it?"

Kara doesn't want to talk though. She squeezes Lena tighter. She can do that now.

"Or we could go inside and not talk about it?" Lena knows her so well. "How about we get you out of this suit, and you take a nap while I worry about dinner. Does that sound good, honey?"

Lena knows her so well.

She loves Lena calling her "darling", but "honey" is on another level.

It's for when she's grieving Krypton, her family, her friends, her culture. For when she can't get out of bed after waking up five seperate times in the same night because the memories that come back as nightmares wouldn't give her a break. For when she couldn't save everyone from a fire or earthquake or alien attack. For when she's not even able to process and explain what's happening.

It's been a while since she needed it.

She nods.

She has no idea what time it is when she wakes up, all she knows is that it's cold, Lena is stroking her hair and the softness of her voice can be compared to the one of her hoodie and sweatpants.

"How are you? Did you sleep well, honey?"

Kara yawns and stretches. She does feel a little bit better so she nods.

She does remember what Lena said during dinner. "I talked to Alex and J'onn and they agreed that we all need a break, so Nia suggested a game night sometime soon."

The night's events blur together. She doesn't know if it's because of her exhaustion or the fact that this has happened so many times before — it's mundane, eating with Lena after a hard day.

She also remembers when she was able to voice her thoughts for the first time since she got home.

She had just gone to bed, her face buried in the pillow, as Lena was petting her hair.

"Honey, are you feeling better?"

She nods and turns to her left so she can see Lena. "Thank you for this."

"I'm glad I was able to help."

"You always are."

Kara grabs Lena's other hand and brings it to her lips, peppering her with kisses, maintaining eye contact. She wants to be closer, though.

Lena reads her mind again. She lifts up the blanket as an invitation to get closer, which Kara accepts.

Kara settles her body between Lena's legs and rests her head on her chest. Featherlight fingers caressing her back, the subtle rise and fall of Lena's breathing. It's grounding.

"I love you." she breaks the silence.

> > > × < < <

Kara has said that a lot in the past couple of weeks. Mostly when they're in private, or when she's about to go on field.

She had been so anxious about this. Terrified to trust that Kara wasn't manipulating nor leaving her.

But seeing the way Kara looks at her – like the first time they woke up together, or shared clothes; with an unmistakable fondness in her eyes, a light blush on her face and a smile on her lips – she knows she means it.

Most of the time, Lena responds with physical affection, a soft "I know", a concerned "stay safe", an "ily" text; sometimes she didn't respond at all, still not completely used to it. This is not any of those times.

"I love you too." She barely thinks about it, it's always on her mind. Such a frequent thought it became an easy action. Natural. Familiar. Known.

"I know, baby." Kara plays with the collar of Lena's shirt, traces her neck and jaw.

She never liked being called "baby" by her exes. It was uncomfortable, infantilizing and just felt wrong.

There was only one person who made it tolerable: Jack. But even then he didn't use it all the time. He preferred "darling" and so did she.

The first time Kara used that pet name, it came as a suprise that it didn't bother her. It was two, maybe three weeks into this new aspect of their relationship.

"You're so wonderful, baby, so stunning." Kara could probably listen to her pulse rushing and see her face flushing which only made her blush even more.

In the past she would have said something like "I know you're trying to be cute but I really don't like that word", instead she said nothing because her brain had given up on her.

The reason she likes it so much now is probably because it's always accompanied with compliments and reassurance.

"I'm so proud of you." proud. Lena lets out a short laugh and smiles shyly.

"Darling, you're doing it again..."

"Doing what?"

"Comforting me when you're the one who needs it."

"I told you." she finds a way to get even closer, kisses her cheek and says "It helps."

Although she doesn't fully understands how that works, she does see how it affects Kara when she starts to relax.

> > > × < < <

She eventually falls asleep.

With Lena's hearbeat at the perfect volume on her ears; audible but not overwhelmingly loud.

The words "I love you too" echoing in her mind; can words be addictive?

The hope that tomorrow won't be worse than today; may Rao help her.

She eventually falls asleep.

[neewtmas]

*cracks knuckles* okay let's do this

First of all you’re insane for using that first pic✋🏻😮‍💨

She’d been there three months already, but she still wasn’t used to the hours kept by her colleagues. They could eat breakfast at 3am or 11, sometimes had breakfast for dinner or the other way around.

They have the same fucked up eating schedule I have hallelujah

The only noises came from George’s cooking. They would soon be replaced by uninterrupted chatter, the scraping of chairs against the floor and the kettle that was kept on most of the time.

The cosy vibes are off the charts ☕️☕️☕️

However, she had made the mistake of smiling at him which instantly turned him mute once again before exiting the room without finishing whatever thought he had started.

He is just social anxiety in person omg

She turned around to see George rearranging her table setting, visibly sighing as he placed attentively the forks on the left face up and the knives on the right blades in. He once again avoided her gaze and went back to his dish still cooking on the stove.

Dude wtf is wrong with u😒

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Lucy said as soon as she entered the kitchen.

Good question lucy! I was asking the same thing

She didn’t want to say anything yet, but she had a hunch.

Meddling lucy truly is the best Lucy🤩

George looked back at her, a knot forming in his stomach. Having all his mistakes lined up this way made him realize how badly he had handled the situation

George stared at the closed door with round eyes. He wasn’t mad about the files anymore. This was worse. So much worse. How was he supposed to get anything done while she was around?

🦋🦋🦋

Aww no poor baby🫂

Whatever trick this might be, it was working. He couldn’t resist correcting anyone about his filing system.

He’s such a fucking nerd I love him

“Are you okay?” George asked, worried, as he crashed back into his room. Desperately trying to get away from the cold wet blanket, she pulled herself up, only managing to hurt herself more.

God now I am the idiot🤡

She looked back down and noticed what George had draped over her. His own sweater, the one he wore in October when the days started getting colder, sat gently on her shoulders, smelling faintly of cedarwood.

Alksjdgjgsalaeh

She just took a seat at the kitchen table and smiled at him. He had been talking to her for five uninterrupted minutes with eye contact and everything. Technically it was to yell at her, but still. progress was progress. He gave up when noticing her smile wouldn’t budge.

He can just go and yell at me whenever he wants🥰

She scoffed and threw the orange in her hand, aiming for his head. He caught it just in time before it made contact with his cheek. He stared back at her with round eyes.

“What the hell was that?” he asked with an edge in his voice. Did she just imagine his voice getting deeper? The slightest grin formed at the corner of his mouth, giving her chills.

HUH🫠🫠🫠

The fruit’s sweet perfume filled the air as George dropped the peel on the table in one piece. While she studied his hands attentively, he proceeded to tear the orange apart, setting its pieces on the table in front of her.

Not the orange peeling ahhhh

“Like spending time with you could ever be wasted time” he wanted to say. Instead, he simply shook his head and started his explanation over, shaking off the thought.

🥹🥹🥹

She didn’t really expect him to, so it really came as a surprise when he reached for her hand without taking his eyes off his notes.

He held his hand out high for her to high five him back. She did, her touch electric against his. She didn’t let go and wrapped her fingers around his, lingering there for another second. He stared at their tangled fingers, oddly captivated. His eyes traveled down her arm and up her face to find her already staring. His breath caught. Suddenly he couldn’t care less about the case they had been working on. Nothing mattered except for the way the warm light of the kitchen lit up her eyes. Her lips parted, catching his eye before he could stop it

My guyyyyy

He got closer each time and she took each opportunity to raise the blanket higher over him. He needed to sleep and he would, even if she had to sneak up on him

Not tricking him into falling asleep lmao

When he noticed her dosing off, he spoke lower and lower before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

AHHHHHHHHHH

What she hadn’t expected was George laying down closer against her with his arms draped around her waist. She froze. His hands traced their way down her arms and his hands locked around hers, gently trying to nudge his glasses out of her hands. She held them tighter, unable to keep herself from smiling. He had his head in the crook of her neck and she felt a smile forming on his lips too.

I am GAGGED✋🏻✋🏻✋🏻

“Is that why you’re staying up so late?” He didn’t say anything back. She rolled back to face him, his hands now resting on her lower back.

SPEECHLESS; CLAWING AT THE WALL

The KISS

Alice you absolute legend

we're not gonna be friends

one shot

Warnings: none

Content: not ennemies, more like annoyed at each other, to lovers, f!reader x George

Word count: 6.8k

Summary: George and y/n can't stand each other, but Lucy can see through their annoyance. Maybe she should help them out a little bit.

Comment: it took me an embarrassingly long time to write this but i'm so happy it's finally here! It was inspired by the song We're not gonna be friends by PJ Frantz which is attached to this

@neewtmas ; @maraschinomerry ; @oblivious-idiot ; @bella-rose29 ; @bobbys-not-that-small ; @lewkwoodnco ; @clarabowmp3 ; @demigoddess-of-ghosts

The kitchen was silent like it often was before breakfast. Or was it lunchtime already? Despite the number of clocks in the house, y/n couldn’t keep track of the day. Unlike Tendy’s where every agent had to keep a tight schedule, Lockwood&Co taught her to be more spontaneous with her day. She’d been there three months already, but she still wasn’t used to the hours kept by her colleagues. They could eat breakfast at 3am or 11, sometimes had breakfast for dinner or the other way around. The only thing she knew by heart was the quietness before a shared meal. The only noises came from George’s cooking. They would soon be replaced by uninterrupted chatter, the scraping of chairs against the floor and the kettle that was kept on most of the time.

She tried to appreciate the peace before the storm but it was tainted with the heavy stillness of the room. With his back turned to her, George couldn’t see her disappointment at the lack of conversation between them. Despite her best efforts, she hadn’t managed to find any sort of anchor with him. She had tried her best to be friendly, helpful, grateful for everything he did around the house but nothing had worked. Even the best conversation starters she could find about the Problem would get shut down in two sentences or less. Once, she mentioned the conversation she had overheard between two of her ex-colleagues, theories on the best ways to stop the Problem. His eyes had lit up, eager to respond and keep the debate going. He had only taken part of the conversation to contradict whatever the agents had said, but she was glad of the progress she made. However, she had made the mistake of smiling at him which instantly turned him mute once again before exiting the room without finishing whatever thought he had started.

She had grown frustrated of the situation. Frankly, if it hadn’t been for Lockwood and Lucy, she would have given up entirely. But they kept insisting that they could be the best of friends and if she was honest with herself she felt insecure about wrecking the harmony between the three roommates. She already felt guilty enough for making Lucy share her room, no matter how much she insisted that she liked having her here. So, she attempted a new approach: instead of talking to him, she would try to help him out, be of service.

She waited patiently for him to finish whatever step he was on in his recipe to get the plates from behind him. When he rested the spoon he had in hand on the side of the pan, she stood up and went for the plates. He got there first and turned around carrying the four plates. Instead of handing them to her, he avoided her eyes and set them down himself, practically walking through her. She didn’t let his rudeness stop her from helping and opened the cupboard where sat the glasses. He was faster once more and slid his fingers inside the glasses to grab two with each hand. Refusing to back down, she took the forks and knives out and set one of each next to the plates. She went next for the napkins but was stopped in her tracks by the sound of metal hitting plates. She turned around to see George rearranging her table setting, visibly sighing as he placed attentively the forks on the left face up and the knives on the right blades in. He once again avoided her gaze and went back to his dish still cooking on the stove.

“Should I bring the napkins or do you have preferences for that too?” She tried to say on a light tone but her annoyance bled through.

“However you want is fine.”

“Apparently not…” she mumbled.

“They’re just napkins, y/n.”

“They were just forks.”

“That’s differ-“

She slammed the door behind her before he could finish. She wasn’t sure if she was hungry anymore. The front door opened and she came face to face with Lockwood who was coming back from whatever errand he and Lucy had run in the morning.

“Hey,” he said as she passed by him. “Aren’t we about to eat?” he asked, but she was already climbing up the stairs.

He and Lucy exchanged a look before the girl decided to go after her. Even though y/n hadn’t said anything, Lucy was pretty sure George had to be involved. She couldn’t really blame her. She and George had had a difficult start too. But it hadn’t taken this long for the researcher to warm up to her. And y/n was much more polite than she had been. Something was off and he had some explaining to do. She would ask him about it after she made sure y/n was okay. She climbed the stairs up to the attic and found y/n angrily fluffing the pillows on her bed. She didn’t have to ask to know whose face she was picturing while violently adjusting the stuffing of a forest green throw pillow.

“So…” she started carefully, “how was your morning?”

“He is the most obnoxious and condescending jerk I’ve ever met.”

“What happened now?” she asked cautiously, but she couldn’t help the smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“I have tried so hard to be pleasant and helpful. I talk about subjects he is interested in, I help out on chores he does, I do everything to be nice and a good roommate and he still won’t talk to me for more than thirty seconds and he won’t under any circumstances let me help out.”

She threw the innocent pillow on her bed to punctuate her annoyance.

Lucy felt torn by the situation. On the one hand she felt bad for her. Getting used to living with George hadn’t been easy for her either, but compared to how he was treating y/n, she had had it easy. He had been irritable lately and he snapped at the slightest inconvenience. On the other hand, she might have an idea of what was really going on.

“Why don’t we go back downstairs and eat something, it’ll make you feel better.”

“And deal with him? No thanks.”

She resolutely sat on her bed, crossing her arms to mark her words.

“I’ll bring up a plate for you.” Lucy said as she made her way back down the stairs.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Lucy said as soon as she entered the kitchen.

“Where should I start?” The skull countered in that invasive way he had of barging in on her conversations.

She ignored him and tapped George on the shoulder, making him look away from his cooking.

“Please, Lucy, we’re about to eat.”

“Yeah, well y/n’s not coming down because of you.”

“She’s not?” Lockwood chimed in.

“Our dear friend George annoyed her away.”

Lockwood smiled somewhat fondly. This was classic George.

“I didn’t do anything.” He said flatly.

“You didn’t let her help, you keep leaving her out!”

George took a deep breath before affirming decidedly

“I don’t like the way she sets the forks and knives.”

She and Lockwood exchanged a look. He couldn’t be serious.

“George, please,” Lockwood started, sensing Lucy’s annoyance.

“She doesn’t check if they match and she sets them haphazardly because she can’t be bothered to place them on each side of the plate, it drives me nuts!”

She looked across the table to see Lockwood smiling at her, silently acknowledging his friend’s quirks.

“George,” he started, “I can’t have two team members unable to work together over forks and knives. I’m gonna need you to make an effort, try and be friends.” He punctuated his words with one of his charming smiles.

George stood up and grabbed his plate.

“I can’t be friends with her.” He declared before going in his room.

Lockwood sighed in defeat.

“Don’t worry about it too much.” Lucy told him.

“How can I not? They’re this close to being at each other’s throat.”

Oh I don’t know about throats but something else surely. She didn’t want to say anything yet, but she had a hunch. George was rude, more so than he had ever been to her. He claimed he couldn’t stand y/n, yet he somehow always managed to be in the same room as her. If he truly couldn’t spend a minute in her company, why did she find him researching a case in the library on several occasions with y/n reading nearby instead of going in his room? And why would he spend twice as much time cleaning if not maybe to see her coming in? He may have his preferences when it came to cleaning, but her instincts told her there was something else at play here.

“Maybe we could make them collaborate more…” She told Lockwood with a grin.

They shared a complicit look.

George was halfway through an article when Lockwood called him down. He wondered what could be more important than being prepared for a case but with Lockwood it could be anything. Without looking up from the newspaper he was reading he went downstairs, only to be greeted with Lucy’s insistent stare. She had that look on her face. It instantly filled him with dread. Whatever they did, it obviously meant more work for him.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“Nothing!” Lucy answered too quickly. “We just…”

He left the article on the nearest table to cross his arms. He looked back at Lockwood.

“We knocked over a few boxes while training.”

“So? Just clean it up.”

“They’re yours. It’s your records and research on the Problem…”

George stormed downstairs. Dealing with Lockwood’s recklessness in the field was already a lot, but carelessness in the house they all lived in, that’s where he drew the line.

“I’m sorry George,” Lockwood chased after him, “I want to help but I don’t know your system.”

“You’d mess it up anyway. It’s fine, I’ll take care of it.” He sighed.

“At least let me get you some help,” Lucy said, already halfway back into the hall.

Before he could protest, she called “y/n! We need your help!”

The girl arrived shortly after, visibly unhappy about the situation.

“We have errands to run, but have fun you two!” Lucy said cheerfully, quickly exiting through the front door before anyone of them could protest.

George stared at the closed door with round eyes. He wasn’t mad about the files anymore. This was worse. So much worse. How was he supposed to get anything done while she was around?

“What do you need help with?” y/n asked flatly.

Without sparing her another glance he rushed back downstairs to evaluate how much damage had been done. He didn’t want to try and explain his system. Frankly, he wasn’t sure he could. He was aware of his quirks and weird habits, and he was aware that it didn’t make sense to most people. Lockwood had made that clear. And even though Lucy made efforts, his filing system was where she drew the line. He didn’t want to hear the same thing from y/n.

Papers were scattered across the office floor. The filing box labelled ‘Problem’ was upside down, balanced between two chairs and on the verge of joining its content below it. The tabs he had placed inside to keep everything organized hadn’t survived the attack. This would take hours.

“So, you’re not even going to talk to me now?” y/n’s voice resonated from the kitchen.

His heart started to beat faster. With wild eyes, he started to pick up the papers mechanically while his mind reeled. What was he supposed to say? Her footsteps resonated louder as she stepped further down into the basement. The air grew thicker with tension as she did so. He wished he would break through the window and run away from this awkward situation.

“George?” she started, crossing her arms as she reached the last step.

Reluctantly, he lifted his eyes towards her, silently cursing himself for screwing up their relationship this badly. He blinked, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Fine.” she let out, slightly louder.

The look on her face made him ache. She looked terrifying when she was angry. He froze halfway through collecting the papers at his feet. She frowned at him, probably wondering what was wrong with him. She bent down and picked the papers up for him, organizing them in neat piles on the one desk that Lockwood and Lucy had spared.

“You know,” she started, “you’re probably the most confusing person I’ve ever met.”

He still stood in the middle of the room, paralyzed by the coldness of her voice. He stared blankly as she angrily collected the papers and forcefully sorted them, creasing some of them in the process.

“I tried to help around the house, but you never let me. I clean, you clean again after me. I initiate conversation and you find any excuse to leave the room.”

She looked down at the last papers she picked up. They were newspaper cuttings about the most relevant outbreaks of the Problem. She smiled as she read the titles and it sent a chill down his spine. Whatever was coming next was not going to be good.

“I spent hours reading all I could find about the origin of the Problem. Lucy said that was how she got you to open up. I thought we could finally have something to talk about. Instead, you walked out after two minutes.”

George looked back at her, a knot forming in his stomach. Having all his mistakes lined up this way made him realize how badly he had handled the situation.

“Am I really that hard to live with?” she asked. There was a crack in her voice.

He couldn’t stay silent. Not this time. But no matter how much he wanted to find the right thing to say, he came up short.

“I’m sorry!” he blurted out.

She looked up, surprised.

“What was that?” she said, eager to make him apologize again.

“You heard me…” he mumbled.

“No, I don’t think I did,” she smiled. “George Karim apologizing? That’s more unlikely than seeing a ghost hula hooping.”

He smiled back. They stared at each other for a few seconds, long enough to make the air feel warmer in the basement. The first crumb of complicity gave him enough courage to try to make up for his rudeness. He added the papers in his hand to the pile on the desk in front of him before continuing.

“I never wanted to make you feel unwelcome.” He looked down, ashamed to admit he had badly misread the situation. “I’m just used to Lucy pushing back and when you didn’t, I thought… that maybe you were faking it? That you were talking about the Problem just to make fun, and you helped out just to annoy me and slow me down-”

“Oh, being nice is annoying now?”

“I don’t know! I’m a jerk, I see that now.”

“At least we can agree on that.”

He looked back up expecting to see her frowning.

“Why are you smiling?”

“You’re finally honest with me. I take that as a victory,” she said decidedly as she reached for the upturned cardboard box.

“So I’m guessing you have a system to organize your files?”

The question caught him off-guard. Was she really moving on from three months of feud that easily? It felt like a trick. She stared at him expectantly.

“Just… chronological.” He said cautiously.

“I don’t think you’d use that many tabs if it was just chronological. You must have subcategories, right? Like at least geographical and then maybe by source…”

Whatever trick this might be, it was working. He couldn’t resist correcting anyone about his filing system.

“I always start with the chronological order and then I file everything according to geography. For each year, I like to organize the records by city then order them by region and finally-”

“Alphabetically?”

“No,” he said with a smile. “I take the region most located South then move back up East, then North and finish West.”

“Why?”

“It’s easier to visualize on a map.”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t expect any less from you.”

When she and Lockwood came back from their errand, which really consisted of going to the coffeeshop closest to the house to let George and y/n have it out, Lucy was shocked to discover that her plan had actually worked. Well, not that shocked. She knew there was something there. They just needed a little push.

They had to climb down the stairs to the basement to finally find them because none of them answered their calls from the hallway. They were deep in conversation about the Problem. The files and boxes had been entirely cleaned up, everything was back on the shelves and… Wait, did George just laugh at something y/n said? How long had they been gone?

Lockwood had a confused look on her face, matching hers. It didn’t leave him the entire way to the client’s house that evening. There was no more tense silence, awkward avoidance or strange atmosphere in the group. The change was radical. Had she known it would have been this effective, she would have locked them up in the basement three months ago. She had been worried they would have ripped each other’s eyes out in such close quarters. In this moment though, they stared intently at each other more than they looked murderous. She smiled to herself, only making Lockwood more confused. She threw him a look. They are so gone for each other. He looked at her sideways, seemingly in disbelief. She raised her eyebrows. I swear! You’ll see. He seemed unconvinced, but she knew. “I can’t be friends with her” George had said. Yes, quite literally, she thought.

The cab came to a halt in front of their workplace for the night. 11 Hall Road. Lucy would have loved to have an exciting new case that she could add to her journal, but the truth was that most cases were plain. An old person dies, the inheritors need to clear the house before living there or selling it. Those who had become apathetical to the Problem said it was just another expense to plan alongside the funeral. She wasn’t in the mood for apathetical. Not when she had two idiotic friends practically holding hands after being at each other’s throat for the past three months. It comforted her to see them remain focused on their tasks without breaking conversation, and she almost didn’t want to tell them to stop to allow her to use her talent. A job was still a job though.

When silence hit them, so did the cold realization of all the sorrow surrounding them. Wailing filled Lucy’s ears and soon the faint outline of the phantasm haunting the place appeared in the corner of her eye. She couldn’t perceive it very well, but its screams made it hard for her to think. Lockwood stepped in front of her, rapier drawn and ready for a fight, while George tried to yell over the disembodied screams what the source could be. y/n was running through the house following his directions but to no avail. His last idea was a miniature car in the bedroom at the end of the hall.

“Found it!” y/n called from upstairs.

But Lucy was the one with the silver nets. She drew her own rapier, aiming for the stairs. The phantasm was faster. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the figure floating upstairs, so fast she doubted her mind for a second. y/n’s scream confirmed she hadn’t been dreaming. Lucy saw the girl running past her in the opposite direction, only stopped by the chest of drawers stationed on the landing. She hit her side with a definite thump, bringing her down and leaving her paralyzed on the floor of the corridor. Lucy hurried up the stairs and came to stand between y/n and the ghost, drawing intricate patterns she had practiced with Lockwood. When she heard the boys climbing the stairs, she used her other hand to take the silver nets out of her pocket. They got caught in her belt and the second she looked away was enough for the visitor to float closer to y/n, still lying a few feet behind her. Using her remaining strength, y/n threw a salt bomb, winning enough time for Lockwood to join Lucy’s side, covering George while he took care of the source.

None of them really spoke on their way back, still shaken from the close call they avoided. Y/n didn’t suffer major injuries, just a few bad bruises, which was a relief. It was enough for Lockwood to tell her to stay home for the next few days. She hadn’t protested, probably because she was exhausted from the night and the drive had rocked her to sleep. When they arrived in front of Portland Row, George didn’t let Lucy wake her up. Instead he carried her inside and despite the night they’d had, she smiled.

The rays of light shining on her face hurt her closed eyes, but not as much as the bruises in her side that decided to wake up as soon as she emerged from her heavy sleep. She was sore, thirsty and only managed to groan when trying to move in what was definitely not her bed. She reached over, eyes still closed, and encountered something cold. Her reflexes kicked in, knocking the glass over and effectively pouring its content on her. She jerked up and immediately screamed at the pain stabbing her side.

“Are you okay?” George asked, worried, as he crashed back into his room.

Desperately trying to get away from the cold wet blanket, she pulled herself up, only managing to hurt herself more.

“No, no, no, slow down. You’re only going to hurt yourself more if you do that.”

He gently nudged her back down, elevating her head with a pillow and removing the blanket to toss it on the floor. She shivered.

“How did you sleep?” he asked as he casually laid something else on her.

“Terrible,” she simply said as she managed to open an eye.

“Do you remember last night?” he continued while helping her sit.

“Yes… I think.” She looked around with half-opened eyes. “Why am I in your room?”

“Lockwood almost passed out after the first flight of stairs.”

She opened her second eye and stared at him dubitatively.

“Fine I wasn’t doing great either.”

She laughed lightly but it only triggered her injury again.

“Here, drink this,” he handed her a cup of tea, “and today you’re on bed rest. No work, no chores, nothing. Not even laughing.”

“I should keep you around then,” she said, before taking a sip.

He threw her a look, but even with eyes half open she could see the shadow of a smile on his face.

He went back downstairs, leaving her to savor her tea, its warmth welcome after having been awakened in such a brutal way. She looked back down and noticed what George had draped over her. His own sweater, the one he wore in October when the days started getting colder, sat gently on her shoulders, smelling faintly of cedarwood. She hadn’t realized how soft it was, having only touched it with her eyes. The night after the case was a blur, but she could have sworn that only one person had carried her upstairs. She smiled to herself as she looked around his room. Papers were left scattered on his desk, some fallen on the floor. Trinkets were gathered on every shelf that wasn’t already full of books. It was messy, disorganized, but comforting in its own way. She wondered how someone who kept such meticulous files on the Problem could live in a room like this. If she tried to make sense of it, she would probably spend the day here, and she simply refused that. Staying still was out of the question. She carefully sat back up before she tried to get onto her feet. The whole ordeal took about ten minutes. This might not be the brightest idea, she thought to herself, but she was finally making progress with George, they had a semblance of connection and she certainly wouldn’t let one wound stand in the way of her friendship with him.

One painful shower and a whole hour later, y/n made her way downstairs and joined George in the kitchen. She hadn’t even made it through the door that she could already hear him telling her off for getting out of bed. He chastised her about the dangers of disregarding health and how irresponsible it was of her to push her body to its limit. She just took a seat at the kitchen table and smiled at him. He had been talking to her for five uninterrupted minutes with eye contact and everything. Technically it was to yell at her, but still. progress was progress. He gave up when noticing her smile wouldn’t budge.

“Why did you come down anyway?”

“I was hungry,” she said while grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl in front of her.

“You could’ve just told me I would have brought something for you.”

“Actually, since I’m on house arrest and you’re finally speaking to me, why don’t you let me help you out today? You know like cleaning, cooking… everything you do all the time for everyone and never let me help with?”

“No. You’re injured. You shouldn’t move that much.”

“How about research then? That’s just reading.”

“No,” he said decisively, punctuating his rejection with a pointed look.

“Stubborn idiot.”

“Well, I am not the idiot who tripped and almost shattered my hip on a dresser.”

She scoffed and threw the orange in her hand, aiming for his head. He caught it just in time before it made contact with his cheek. He stared back at her with round eyes.

“What the hell was that?” he asked with an edge in his voice. Did she just imagine his voice getting deeper? The slightest grin formed at the corner of his mouth, giving her chills. “You’re insufferable.”

“You’re just jealous because even injured I have better aim than you.” She blurted out, hoping the redness of her face wasn’t obvious.

When he didn’t respond, an idea popped into her head.

“And you probably don’t want me to help because you’re scared I’ll be better at research than you are too.”

He smiled, set the orange down on the table and turned back to the dishes he had started before she got there.

“You really think I’d fall for that? Who do you think I am? Lockwood?”

She took back the fruit and slumped into her chair.

“Can you at least let me help? I can’t stay still for so long, I’ll go mad”

She fidgeted with the orange in her hands, planting her short nails into its skin the best she could. She only managed to pull off small pieces each time.

“You’ll slow me down, and I can’t allow myself to miss a single element. I don’t want last night to happen again.”

She looked up to find him already staring.

“I managed to keep up with your files on the Problem, why would that be any different?”

He didn’t have anything to say back. She smiled triumphantly.

“You have no more arguments, I win the argument! Where should I start?”

He sighed, dried the glass he was holding and sat next to her.

“By learning how to peel an orange properly.” He retorted, snatching the fruit from her hand.

Methodically, he sunk his finger under the peel, tearing it confidently. The fruit’s sweet perfume filled the air as George dropped the peel on the table in one piece. While she studied his hands attentively, he proceeded to tear the orange apart, setting its pieces on the table in front of her.

“I can do that myself you know.”

“Can you?”

“Jerk.” She laughed. Being friends with him wasn’t exactly what she had thought it would be, but she had to admit that she liked it.

He got up and snatched a piece from her hand.

“Hey, what was that for?”

“Compensation for my efforts.” He smirked.

He disappeared into the living room and came back with piles of materials in his arms. He did a second trip to bring books and case files, then a third to get notebooks from his room. When he got back into the kitchen, he sat next to her and wrote the name of the client on the thinking cloth. He pushed back his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s get to work.”

George knew that y/n was too stubborn to rest despite her injury, and she was too clever to be tricked into it. To be fair, he hadn’t tried that hard. He really was glad of the company. He gave her some context for their upcoming case and described his usual research methods. He realized he might have been explaining things too fast when he noticed her staring at him with round eyes.

“I lost you, didn’t I?”

“Sort of…” she answered, embarrassed. “Am I wasting your time?”

“Like spending time with you could ever be wasted time” he wanted to say. Instead, he simply shook his head and started his explanation over, shaking off the thought.

He was right, though. Not only was he greatly enjoying himself, she was also a quick learner. By the second hour spent gathering material, they had already uncovered crucial elements about the history of the place and they had started narrowing in on the type of object that could be a potential source. They made a good team.

The day had gone by without any of them leaving the kitchen. They were enthralled in their work with a comfortable silence between them. They sat side by side, sharing documents and exchanging notes on the Thinking Cloth with an appeasing familiarity. Deep down, George felt guilty that they missed out on moments like these in the past because he was too focused on keeping his new colleague at arm’s length. Their knees bumped every once in a while, each moment making his heart skip a beat. Out of surprise, that is, not that he paid it any mind.

In just a day he had learned to read her smile. The soft polite one was how she asked if he wanted more tea. The shy one meant she needed his help but didn’t want to ask. His favorite one was her triumphant smile when she finally figured out what the source must be. He held his hand out high for her to high five him back. She did, her touch electric against his. She didn’t let go and wrapped her fingers around his, lingering there for another second. He stared at their tangled fingers, oddly captivated. His eyes traveled down her arm and up her face to find her already staring. His breath caught. Suddenly he couldn’t care less about the case they had been working on. Nothing mattered except for the way the warm light of the kitchen lit up her eyes. Her lips parted, catching his eye before he could stop it.

“It’s late, I should probably get some sleep,” she quickly said when their eyes met.

“Yeah,” he let go of her hand, “good idea.”

She used his shoulder to stand up and flinched. He didn’t know if it was from the contact or the effort.

“Good night,” he said gently, trying to shake off some of the awkwardness he was feeling.

“Good night. Don’t stay up too late.”

“I can’t promise anything,” he mumbled as he watched her close the door behind her.

He found it ironic that she was giving him advice when she had been blatantly ignoring everything he said about her health all day long. He returned to the newspaper he was reading, every word on the page escaping his attention. What smile had she used when she left the room? He took a pen to keep his eyes from skipping five words at a time. She had touched his shoulder on purpose earlier, hadn’t she? This was useless. He gathered up the rest of the papers he hadn’t read yet and headed back to his room, conceding defeat to the butterflies settling in his stomach.

y/n woke up around 2 am, her aching body forcing her awake demanding a glass of water. Everything was dark around her, but she could hear Lucy’s steady breathing on the opposite side of the room. She did her best to get to her feet silently, ignoring the pain still twisting her side. The steps creaked lightly underneath her bare feet, the sound resonating loudly in the silent house. She reached the first landing discreetly with the hope that she wouldn’t wake anyone up. Instead, she was surprised to see a ray of light coming from under George’s door. It was ajar, so she pushed it lightly to see him hunched over his desk, still reading the newspapers she had left on the table a few hours earlier.

“You’re really stubborn you know?”

He didn’t seem surprised to hear her behind him.

“You’re one to talk,” he retorted.

She knew there was no point in arguing, especially at this hour.

“I’m getting some water, do you want anything?”

“Tea would be fine, thanks.” He turned around. His hair was visibly disheveled. Even though he didn’t put that much effort into it at regular hours, it was obvious that he was tired.

When she came back a few moments later, he was still absorbed by whatever article he was reading. He hardly paid attention when she set the steaming cup next to him. She didn’t really expect him to, so it really came as a surprise when he reached for her hand without taking his eyes off his notes. The contact of his hand on the bare skin of her arm almost made her spill her water.

“Take a look,” he simply said. He pointed at an annotation he had written in the margin of a newspaper article he was reading.

She sat on the stool next to him to inspect his findings. His scribbling was already hard to read in the daylight, but in the dead hours of the night it was almost impossible. He saw her squint and read aloud. The words evaded her. She blamed the lack of sleep and not the fact that his hand was still resting on her arm, gently swaying back and forth. She stared at it, its slow movements calming her down. It made her feel peaceful, appeased. She wondered however why her heart was beating faster if she was feeling so calm.

“y/n?”

“Hmm?” She looked up and was caught off guard by the gentleness in his eyes.

“You should go back to bed.”

“No, no, tell me. I’m listening.”

She could see the cogs turning in his head, weighing his options, whether forcing her to rest would be worth the effort or pointless from the start. He sighed.

“I found another death related to the client’s house. I’m trying to see if the haunting is caused by what we found earlier or if it’s something else entirely.”

“That’s way too much work to do by yourself in one night.”

“Someone has to do it. You should rest, I’ll tell you what I found in the morning.”

She got up, but she knew fully well she wasn’t letting him work all night alone. She took all the papers she could gather in her arms, ignoring his hushed protests, and made herself comfortable in his bed. He looked at her incredulously. She tapped the spot next to her, a large smile lighting up her face.

He sounded defeated when he said “why are you like this?”

“You look out for me, I look out for you.”

It shut him up on the spot. She got under the covers and organized the documents in piles around her while he stared silently, his mouth slightly agape.

“What? If we’re here all night we might as well get comfortable.”

His eyes were so round she thought it must hurt him. “We?”

She tapped the spot next to her again.

“Come on. You can’t tell me to rest if you’re not doing it either.”

Reluctantly, he joined her, looking like he was intruding in the sheets of a total stranger. At first, he pushed the cover aside. It was as if he was allergic to comfort. He kept his distance and even hesitated to reach over to grab a newspaper. They read in silence, the only sound coming occasionally from the turning of pages. He seemed to quickly forget about his awkwardness though, as he leaned in whenever he found something. He got closer each time and she took each opportunity to raise the blanket higher over him. He needed to sleep and he would, even if she had to sneak up on him. By the time he finished his mug, they were shoulder to shoulder, speaking in low voices in each other’s ear. Even in hushed tones, she could sense how enthusiastic he was about what he discovered one newspaper after the other. She could have listened to him talk for hours… if she wasn’t so exhausted. No matter how hard she tried to keep her eyes open, her head was drawing impossibly close to George’s shoulder. She was too comfortable to resist. When he noticed her dosing off, he spoke lower and lower before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She sunk into a deeper slumber, George’s even breathing rocking her to sleep, until the turning of pages disturbed her ears. He wasn’t going to sleep unless she made him. With her eyes still closed, she traced her fingers up his torso to find his neck, his chin, and finally his glasses. She took them off before turning her back on him.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Forcing you to get some sleep,” she mumbled.

“Give me back my glasses.”

“Come get them yourself.”

She was certain he would concede defeat after this. What she hadn’t expected was George laying down closer against her with his arms draped around her waist. She froze. His hands traced their way down her arms and his hands locked around hers, gently trying to nudge his glasses out of her hands. She held them tighter, unable to keep herself from smiling. He had his head in the crook of her neck and she felt a smile forming on his lips too.

“You’re impossible. You’re stubborn, insufferable-”

“You used that one earlier already.”

He laughed. “You’re just proving my point.”

A light laugh escaped her too, only it made her bruises act up again. She flinched.

George let go of her hand, his fingers traveling lightly over her side.

“Does it still hurt?”

“A little bit.”

He sighed in her neck, making her shiver.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t figure out sooner what the source was. I could have saved you the injury.”

Something clicked in her mind, clearing all desire to sleep for a moment.

“Is that why you’re staying up so late?”

He didn’t say anything back. She rolled back to face him, his hands now resting on her lower back.

“George, you’re not the reason why I couldn’t avoid running into a dresser.”

He laughed, but he avoided her eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault. Now please get some sleep.”

He looked back at her with intensity. His eyes looked dark in the dim light, almost black.

“On one condition.”

Before she could ask what he needed from her, he took it. His lips crashed against hers with a hunger she didn’t know he had. She was still in shock when he drew back, looking back at her hesitantly. He didn’t seem to know that she loved this unsuspected bold side of him. She tangled her fingers in his hair to pull him back in. He seemed surprised at first, but his hands quickly ran up her back to draw her nearer. She could have expected to feel anything from kissing George. Awkwardness, shyness, a few days ago she would have completely rejected the idea. She certainly wouldn’t have expected it to feel so right. His hands seemed to fit the small of her back like puzzle pieces locking perfectly in place. She was surprised at how quickly she had come to wanting more. She needed him, all of him, impossibly closer. She circled his hips with her leg while her hands roamed down his back. He smiled into each kiss, leaving her lips every now and then to trail her cheeks and down her neck. She looked back at him with sparkling eyes.

“So, one condition?”

“Don’t leave. Please.”

Her smile grew bigger.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

[crabsnpersimmons]

Happy Moon Festival! 🌕

there's a bunch of holidays today, Mid-Autumn Festival, Tsukimi, Chuseok and more! all dated on the day of the brightest full moon!

and since i had some time, i thought i'd draw all my moons and some yummy festival sweets (all prepared by chef Moon of course!)

some intros to all the moons and the dishes below the cut

some intros:

Moonie's from my chibi AU, "Rain or Shine". a rambunctious little guy who loves playing with his Sunny

Moondrop's from my hairdresser AU, "New 'Do, Same You". a Moon in a glamrock-style casing, who's pretty chill but insecure

Mooncake's from my restaurant AU, "Have You Eaten?" a hopeless romantic chef who loves cooking yummy foods!

13's from my dystopian AU. he's a sheltered, naive little Moon bot who is curious to learn about the world outside the palace

Miel is from my idol AU. she's an ex-Moon bot, turned nanny bot, turned rapper of an idol duo (she sings too tho!)

and the menu:

tsukimi dango are plain Japanese dumplings made of rice flour and glutinous rice flour, resembling the full moon

mooncakes are Chinese treat with various skins and fillings, but traditionally they are a pastry filled with lotus seed paste and a salted duck egg yolk to resemble the full moon

songpyeon are a Korean rice cake with various types of fillings—red beans, dates, sesame seeds, honey, and more!