#stop being so endearing I can’t HANDLE it!!!!!!!!!!!

[emilys-bangs]

hiiii this was under the hydrangea list and i thought it was cute but okay what if it was new agent reader and season 12 emily (maybe they arent super young but ykwim) and reader gets drunk for whatever reason, and emily has to take care of them. like take them back home or whatever and she said “you should get some rest kid” and then reader is like “pls dont call me that im so attracted to you and it makes it weird if you call me that” this is a mess of a sentence but im sleepy and i have read all of your work and im starving okay im done love u bye

This made me laugh, ty for requesting! I love love love it (and you). Join my celebration here <3

Tags: drunk!reader, bau!reader, flustered emily

Word count: 1.1k

Being Unit Chief comes with responsibilities. Taking drunk subordinates home is not one of them. 

And yet here she stands, stepping out of the rowdy bustle of the bar and hailing down a cab, half an eye on you and half on the car as it pulls up to the curb. 

Emily’s fingers curl around the handle. She pulls open the backseat door and nudges you in, cushioning the sharp carving above your head with her palm. And for good reason, because seconds later, your forehead bumps into the back of her hand.

“Emily, Ma’am,” you say politely when she gets in, your fingers fumbling with your seatbelt, “y’don’t have to take me home, you know.”

Emily ignores the Ma’am.

“It’s on the way to mine,” she replies, her eyes tracking your struggle with the seatbelt. She’s about to intervene when it slides home with a click.

“But it’s so early!” You huff, sinking back against the seat. “You can’t have wanted to leave yet. You like to party, I think. You look like a partier.” Your eyes lock with hers, serious despite the glazed shine to them. Still ever the profiler, even with alcohol humming in your blood.

Emily’s lips tingle with the need to smile. It’s nice to see you loose and easy; in the few months since you started at the BAU, you’ve been polite but detached, quiet unless it contributes to a case, and meticulous in your work. Emily saw the way you kept your distance, but she knew it’d fade with time.

Tonight is proof of that. A few drinks in, an hour or so of Garcia’s lively chatter, and you shed all professionalism off your shoulders. In the span of a few hours, the floodgates have opened wide. 

Emily isn’t sure she wants them to fall back closed.

“Y’know, you need a break from all that paperwork,” you say sagely. “Too much paperwork, and all of it’s on your plate.” 

It can’t be comfortable, the way you rest your head on the edge of the window. Your outline shudders with every bump in the road, but you seem perfectly content. Comfortable, even, your legs stretched out near hers and crossed at the ankles.

“Somebody’s gotta do it.” Emily murmurs. 

“Shame it’s you,” you say. The soft slide of your slur is strangely endearing. “You’re far too pretty to spend so much time in the office.”

Her brows arch in surprise. Emily lets out a short laugh, her neck growing hot, the strands of her hair suddenly poking into her skin. She doesn’t reply—can’t, really, because you go on a ramble, seemingly unbothered by the bomb you’ve dropped on her and turning your fleeting attention to some topic she isn’t really able to focus on.

Her cheeks are still warm as your voice fills the silence of the car. Soft and lilting in uneven slopes, your thoughts unwinding like pools of thread, trailing from one topic to another with hardly a pause. It’s nice, Emily thinks, to hear your tongue wrap around unmarred, bloodless words for once. Her ears hardly get reprieve from your rambling until the car stops and you once again fumble with the seatbelt. 

Streetlight pours in through the window. All at once, you’re gold. Your nails, the tips of your lashes, the frown you direct to the buckle.

Emily leans over, her own belt cutting across her chest, and undoes it for you.

You melt with relief. A beam lights up your face, lips stretched wide over your teeth. The sight is still unusual; she stares a little.

“Thanks.”

Emily swallows. Nods. 

“I’ll walk you up.”

“Oh no, no, it’s—”

“I’ll walk you up. C’mon.” Her voice falls softer than she wanted it to. Emily moves almost on autopilot: undoing her belt, getting out of the car, reaching for your elbow when you teeter above the sidewalk.

“You really are a top notch boss.” You mumble, pushing open the door of your apartment building.

Emily presses her lips against a smile. “Don’t expect this treatment every time. One time service only.”

“Part of the newbie package?”

She’d never walked anyone up to their door. A shared ride and a misspelled text minutes later was enough to make her rest easy. 

“Something like that.”

You hum and rub your eye, taking halting steps down the hallway. Emily’s eyes carefully watch for any stumbles, but you lead them safely to your door. 

The key is unsteady in your hand when you pull it out. She watches it thunk loudly against the lock as you try to slot it in, gives you three seconds, then gently takes it. Your mumbled protest goes ignored.

Emily undoes the lock and swings the door open into warm light. Her eyes instinctively flit over your home, inquisitive—nosy—before she catches herself and averts her gaze. She pulls the key out and places it in your palm, then gently nudges you in.

“C’mon. You should get some rest, kid.”

Emily doesn’t fully realize what she’s said until you pause over the threshold, a violent shudder rocking your shoulders. “God, please don’t call me that,” you grimace, face scrunched up with animated disgust. “’M so—god I’m so attracted to you, makes me feel weird to hear you call me that. Please don’t call me that.” You reiterate.

She can’t look away from the scrunch of your nose. The silence rings, and your face crumples into a frown.

“You don’t think of me as a kid, do you?”

Emily’s mouth is dry. 

“No, god no. You certainly aren’t…no, I don’t, I’m sorry,” she says breathlessly. Her skin itches with embarrassment, flaming hot where your slow eyes track. “I see JJ’s kids a lot,” she blurts, “and, you know, take them out to parks and stuff…and sometimes with Reid—you know…” 

God, somebody shut her up.

“Force of habit. I promise. I don’t see you as a kid, far from it—”

“Oh, she’s a rambler,” you laugh, something airy and feather-light. “I believe you, Chief Prentiss. But only if you’ll call me something else.” You say, a touch coy.

“What do you want me to call you?” Her voice comes out breathless.

“My name.” Your blink is slow, lashes kissing your cheeks. “M’first name, not that…L/N bullshit.”

Before tonight, she would’ve thought you preferred it. 

Emily’s glad that’s not the case. 

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, yeah. Y/N.” She tests it out. Your face brightens; her lips curve up before she feels it. “Please get some sleep.”

Still spilling laughter, you touch two fingers to your temple. “Yes, Ma’am. G’night, bye.”

The door thuds closed.

“Emily.” She murmurs to it.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu @ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi @temilyrights @professorsapphic@decadentcatcrusade @piiinco

[eclipixels]

i might have baby fever rn but i can’t stop thinking abt isagi and reader having a son that’s almost an exact copy of isagi in appearance nd being that one meme that’s like “nine months in my womb making me suffer and you look like your stupid dad!” 😭

Ctrl C + Ctrl V

Yoichi Isagi x Reader

[1,149 words]

      There is no way, you thought, as you stared at your few-hours-old newborn, cradled in your arms.

      Your baby looked just like your husband. Not just in the usual way that babies sometimes resemble their fathers—no, this was almost uncanny. The way the little human looked up at you with the same big blue eyes, blinking sleepily, and that same slightly clueless but endearing expression made you wonder if you had actually just given birth to a clone.

      It was almost comical. The same messy dark blue hair that refused to be tamed, the same pout when something didn’t go their way, the same chubby cheeks you had spent years pinching, the same nose that scrunched up just slightly when they yawned. Even the shape of his tiny ears mirrored Isagi’s.

      How? Just—how?

      You had spent nine long months carrying this child. Nine months of swollen feet, back pain, cravings at ungodly hours, nausea that never quite left, and nearly ripping Isagi’s arm off during labor. And for what? A miniature version of him. A tiny, living, breathing replica of your husband, complete with his wide, dumb grin.

      You squinted at your son, shifting him slightly in your arms as he let out a soft coo, his small fingers wiggling in the air. Then, your gaze flickered over to your husband, who was practically vibrating with excitement beside you, looking like he was about to explode from sheer joy.

      You scowled.

      Then back to your son.

      Then to Isagi.

      It was like looking at the before and after of a single person. One with slightly more experience in the world and the other just discovering it.

      “Nine months,” you muttered under your breath, your voice laced with disbelief and just a hint of betrayal. “Nine months in my womb making me suffer, and you come out looking exactly like your stupid dad.”

      Your baby gurgled happily, the sound strikingly familiar, and you swore you heard Isagi’s idiotic laugh echoing in that tiny giggle. That was the last straw.

      Your husband laughed at your deadpan expression, feigning offense. “Hey! You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

      You shot him a look before sighing dramatically. “Unbelievable.”

      Isagi, who had been eagerly waiting for a chance to hold his son, reached out with grabby hands. “Come on, let me hold him!”

      You hesitated for just a second—after all, this was your hard work, your baby, your little bundle of exhaustion and joy. But then, seeing the almost puppy-like expression on your husband’s face, you relented, gently placing your son into his father’s arms.

      Isagi’s grin stretched impossibly wide as he carefully cradled the baby, holding him up like he had just won the World Cup.

      “He’s so tiny,” Isagi breathed, his voice filled with awe. His hands that were almost broken a few hours ago (courtesy of you) handled the newborn with a tenderness that made your heart melt. He was so good at being a dad.

      The baby let out a soft babble, tiny hands reaching out, fingers curling toward Isagi’s face. Your husband immediately leaned in, letting the little fingers brush against his nose before pressing a series of noisy kisses to your son’s chubby cheeks.

      “I hate you.” You tell Isagi as he pouts, it looks as if Isagi was the one who gave birth, not you.

      “At least someone loves me right now,” he declared proudly as he turned to face the baby in his arms, making exaggerated kissing noises. “Isn’t that right, B/n?”

      You scoffed, but the fondness in your gaze betrayed you. “Unfair. He’s supposed to be my baby.”

      Isagi turned his wide eyes toward you, feigning shock. “Our baby, you mean.”

      You crossed your arms, pretending to think it over. “Debatable.”

      Isagi gasped in mock offense. “Hey! What are you insinuating? I thought you loved me.”

      “Not right now, I don’t.”

      Your husband let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head, ”Can you believe her, B/n?”

      Your son, oblivious to the playful banter between his parents, let out a tiny sneeze. Both you and Isagi immediately snapped your attention back to him.

      “Ack, was that a sneeze?” Isagi asked, his voice rising in pitch with alarm.

      “It was just a tiny sneeze, calm down,” you reassured him.

      “What if he’s cold? Does he need a blanket? Should I hold him closer?”

      You groaned. “He’s fine, Ichi. Babies sneeze.”

      Isagi narrowed his eyes at you, skeptical, but ultimately sighed in relief when the baby simply yawned and nestled deeper into his arms. A moment of silence settled between you both as you watched your son, his tiny chest rising and falling with each soft breath. The weight of the moment seemed to sink in fully for the first time, this was your family now.

      Your husband let out a breathless chuckle, shifting to sit beside you on the hospital bed, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. He gently pressed your son back into your arms, making sure you were comfortable before leaning in close, his chin resting lightly against your shoulder.

      “He’s perfect,” Isagi murmured.

      You sighed, glancing down at your son, tracing a finger along his soft cheek. “Of course you’d think that when he looks just like you.”

      “I don’t hear you disagreeing.”

      You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small, tired smile that tugged at your lips. “Let’s see if you still think that when it’s your turn to wake up for late-night feedings and crying.”

      He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Anything for my little clone.”

      You playfully shoved him. “Your clone? You’re not helping your case.”

      Isagi just grinned, unbothered, eyes twinkling with mischief before ever so softly whispering. “Maybe the next one will look like you.”

      You froze, your entire body stiffening. Your gaze snapped to him, eyes narrowing. “Next?”

      Isagi burst into laughter, clearly amused by your reaction. “Just saying, we make cute kids.”

      You groaned, resting your head against the pillow. “Give me at least a year before you start talking about ‘the next one.’”

      Your husband chuckled, leaning over to nuzzle against you and the baby. “Sorry, love, didn’t mean to scare you.”

      You sighed in exasperation, but there was no real annoyance behind it. As much as you liked to tease him, you knew, deep down, that there was no one else you would rather be doing this with. There was no one else you’d rather be the father of your child. Your baby let out a soft sigh, snuggling closer against your chest. You wondered if at least he’d get your personality if not looks. You whispered a soft, ‘I love you’ to your baby before tilting your head towards the man you were bound to spend the rest of your life with.

      “I love you, Ichi”

      “I love you, too,” Isagi replied warmly, “and you too, little one.”

A/N: Made the meme for this fic 😭

[leclerc-hs]

hard deck - cl16

pairing: pilot!charles leclerc x f!reader summary: in which your best friend's other best friend hates you OR charles is in love with you and he fucking hates that he is. warnings: language, bad writing (honestly, I think I'm in a bad phase rn and everything I write sucks), NOT PROOFREAD, smutttt (short but 18+ pls) word count: ~3.6k author's note: I'm gonna say I genuinely have no idea wtf I just wrote. its kinda shitty and for that I apologize. I'm still trying to get back into the groove of writing again bc it's been SO long. anyways xoxo

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“God, do you ever just shut up?” Charles watches you with irritation, his brow furrowed as he takes a long swig of the amber liquid in his class. The tension hangs thick in the air, his frustration palpable.

He swallows hard, the alcohol clearly his refuge at this moment, a desperate attempt to calm the urge to shove you down the nearest flight of stairs. You can see the conflict brewing behind his eyes, a storm of annoyance and something else— perhaps regret?

No way. Charles ‘Perceval’ Leclerc would never regret being mean to you.

You send him the hardest glare you can muster, swinging your legs to the side of the chair before coming to a stand. “Are you ever not a fucking dick? Seriously how do you have friends?”

“Why? You need tips on how to get some?”

“Perceval!” Carlos gives him a disapproving look, “Cut it out.”

“Me?” His eyes widen in astonishment as he points his fingers to himself in question. “You were thinking it too. You just can’t say it because she’s your childhood friend.”

“Seriously, hermano.” Carlos sighs. “Leave her alone.”

“Don’t sweat it Car,” You mutter, your voice low and casual as you lean against the edge of the table. “I’m moving over there.” You point towards a few of your friends gathered around the dart board.

Carlos’s expression shifts, his eyes widening in that endearing way that always makes you chuckle. “No, stay.” He pleads, giving you the best puppy dog eyes he can muster, complete with a slight pout that would make anyone’s heart melt. “Charles will stop. Right?”

With a playful swing of his arm, he hits Charles in the ribs, the impact harder than necessary. Charles winces dramatically, clutching his side as he shoots Carlos a mock glare, his lips curling into a frown.

“Whatever.”

You make a stupid face of mockery, scrunching your features and sticking out your tongue in the most absurd way possible. Childish? Sure. But damn, it felt good.

Carlos bursts into laughter, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he nearly doubles over. “What even was that? A dying fish?” He jokes, wiping a tear from his eye.

Charles just rolls his eyes, “Seriously? I’m losing brain cells just being around you, Bug.” He retorts, but theres no real annoyance in his voice— just teasing.

Bug. That forsaken nickname he gave you seemed to stick. Even went so far to be your call sign. Probably called you it because he associated you as a pest. But he really meant it as an endearing way. Not that he would ever admit it.

-

You and Charles stand in front of a model fighter jet, the sleek design gleaming under the bright lights, its metallic surface reflecting the excitement in the room. The imposing aircraft, with its sharp lines and polished finish, feels almost alive, and the air is thick with the thrill of aviation.

“Seriously? You think you could handle flying that thing?” you tease, crossing your arms and leaning against the display. Your smirk is playful, but there’s a challenge in your tone.

“Absolutely Bug,” he replies, leaning in slightly, confidence radiating from him. “I’d be soaring through the skies while you’re down here, probably tripping over your own feet.”

“Please,” you scoff, rolling your eyes with a dramatic flair. “You’d probably get lost on the runway, looking for the nearest snack bar instead of focusing on takeoff.”

“Lost? In a fighter jet?” He raises an eyebrow, a smirk dancing on his lips. “I’d be the one pulling off the real maneuvers while you flounder around in the backseat, screaming like a scared kitten.”

“Real maneuvers?” You chuckle, shaking your head. “Like what? A graceful belly flop?” You lean in closer, narrowing your eyes playfully. “I can just picture it now: Perceval, taking a nosedive to the nearest ice cream stand.”

He leans back, arms crossed, clearly enjoying the banter. “Well, at least I’d crash in style. You’d just be a mess, splattered all over the tarmac.”

“Whatever P.”

-

Your voice is the first thing Charles hears, cutting through the fog of sleep. He drags his pillow over his face with a groan, trying to block out the sound, but it only muffles your words.

Do you ever leave Carlos alone?

Charles has successfully avoided you for a whole four days. Probably the longest he’s gone since he met Carlos all those years ago.

The smell of coffee wafted through the air eliciting a groan from him. 

Coffee. Yes.

Charles makes his way to the kitchen, sleep still clinging to his eyes, his hair a wild mess that seems to have taken on a life of its own overnight. The loose grey sweatpants hang loosely off of his hips, giving him that effortlessly disheveled look that somehow works in his favor.

You lean against the counter, a mug of coffee in hand, and can’t help but smirk at the sight. “Wow, you really went all out this morning Sleeping Beauty, didn’t you?” You tease, trying to suppress a laugh.

He squints at you, trying to focus through the remnants of sleep, but it takes him a moment to fully register your presence. You stand there in a large t-shirt that hangs loosely around your frame, the fabric slightly wrinkled, and Charles can’t help but feel a rush of annoyance mixed with something else— something that sets his skin on fire.

The fact that you’re clearly wearing Carlos’ shirt bothers him more than he’d like to admit. “Seriously? Carlos’ shirt?” He finally manages to say, his voice still raspy from sleep.

You glance down at the oversized tee, a playful smile creeping onto your face. “It’s comfortable.”

“Who are you to judge my look, when you’re wearing that.” He defends himself, but can’t help but feel a little flustered. “At least they’re not borrowed from someone else.”

You laugh, and the sound only makes his annoyance deepen. “What? Are you jealous of Carlos’ clothes?”

“Not at all.” He replies, his tone more serious than he intended. “You could just wear something that actually fits you.”

You take a step closer, a playful challenge in your gaze. “And what would you suggest, P?”

“Honestly, I’d prefer you in something that’s not associated with him at all,” He blurts out before he can stop himself.

-

Life was weird.

You and Charles had gone from full-on arguments that filled the air with tension to this strange dance of tip-toeing around one another. It was a shift you hadn’t quite expected. Don’t get it twisted— you still fought. A lot. But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t mean; it was almost flirty, charged with a new energy.

“Get that wretched drink away from me.” Charles chirps, wrinkling his nose as you settle into your usual spot at the Hard Deck, the familiar buzz of the bar surrounding you.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “There is nothing wretched about a dirty martini. It’s sophisticated.”

“The fact you enjoy olives is nauseating.” He replies, crossing his arms in mock disapproval, his expression somewhere between annoyance and amusement.

You take a sip, letting the briny flavor linger on your tongue before responding. “The fact you don’t ever shut up is nauseating.”

He leans in slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I don’t shut up? You’re one to talk.”

“I’m not here to argue tonight.” You say, relaxing into your chair, the low hum of conversation around you a comforting backdrop.

“Oh yeah? Me either,” Charles replies, taking a large gulp of his beer, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. “Just wondering though. What are you here for?”

You flash him a teasing grin. “To get laid.”

It it weren’t for his widened eyes, Charles gave no emotion away. “Seriously? That’s your game plan for the night?”

“Why not?” You shrug, leaning back with confidence. “All these fighter pilots are an easy lay.”

It was true. You were hot. And that thought alone drove Charles nuts. “And here I thought you were just here for the olives and to annoy me.”

“Those are just the bonus perks,” you quip, glancing around the bar. “Now, I’m gonna go dance and get myself a man.” You slip off your stool with a bright smile, sending a teasing wink in Charles direction. He can’t help but grumble in response.

“If any of those men touch you, I’ll fight them.” Carlos grumbles, bringing the bottled beer to his lips. 

“Oh please.” You wave him off. “Stop acting like I’m some innocent girl Car. You’ve known me too long for that."

-

Charles is pissed.

His jaw was set tight, and each breath seemed measured, like he was holding back a storm. The air around him crackled with tension, and you could almost feel the heat radiating off of him. It was clear— whatever had triggered this fury was digging deep.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, P?” Carlos chuckles, cracking a peanut shell onto the wooden bar top before popping it in his mouth.

The air around him felt charged, almost electric, as he pointed a finger toward you. “You just gonna let that guy grope her like that?”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting to where you stood, fully engaged in conversation with a pilot named Jake, call sign ‘Hangman’. The way you laughed and leaned in, seemingly at ease, only fueled Charles’s frustration. “She can handle herself, you know that,” Carlos replied, a teasing tone edging into his voice.

“Yeah, doesn’t mean she should.” Charles snapped, his voice low and tight. He leaned forward, the tension in his body palpable as he watched Jake’s hand rest just a little too close for comfort on your waist. “Look how close he is. It’s like he thinks he owns her.”

“You’re ridiculous, P.” Carlos chuckles, shaking his head as he cracks a peanut shell against the wooden bar top. “When are you going to admit it?”

“Admit what?” Charles shot back, his gaze still locked on you, oblivious to anything else around him.

“That you like her,” Carlos says, a smirk creeping onto his face as he leans back, arms crossed behind his head.

Charles’s eyes narrowed as he studied you and Jake, the warmth of the bar contrasting sharply with the chill of jealousy creeping in. “Like her?” He echoed, disbelief woven in his tone. “I can barely stand her.” 

But deep down, he felt the truth of it. That he did like you. That he might even love you.

-

“Hangman!” Charles’s voice reverberates through the hangar, its volume cutting through the low hum of conversation and machinery. You wince at the abruptness of it, wondering why on earth he needs to talk to Jake, when he’s clearly talking to you.

Your gaze shifts back to Jake, who is laughing, seemingly unfazed by Charles’s entrance. But it was the way Charles’s rests his hand onto Jake’s shoulder that made you uneasy— too casual, too familiar. A knot formed in your stomach at the sight.

You took a deep breath, deciding to not let your thoughts go south. There’s no way Charles would go as far as sabotaging a potential relationship. Right?

“To what do we owe the displeasure of your annoyance?” You ask, your eyebrows slightly raised in confusion.

Charles shifts his gaze to you, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Yes, fight with me.

“Displeasure?” He shoots back. “You wouldn’t know displeasure if it hit you in the face.”

“What are you five?”

He smirks before shifting his eyes back to Jake, his hand still resting on his shoulder. “I actually need him for something. See ya sweet cheeks.” His tone dripping with mock nonchalance.

You narrow your eyes, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “Really? That’s how you’re going to play this?”

-

“You don’t give up, do you?” His voice was low and amused, cutting through your focus on the dart board before you.

You roll your eyes— a reflex you perfected around him— trying to ignore the way Charles’s gaze lingers on you. With a deep breath, you glance over, meeting his warm smile. It’s disarming, that easygoing charm of his, like a breath of fresh air.

His relaxed posture leans casually agains the bar, arms crossed, exuding a effortless confidence that somehow makes you feel at ease. You try to refocus on the dartboard, but it’s hard to concentrate when his eyes are like a magnetic pull, drawing your attention away.

“You know, if you actually focused, you might hit the board this time,” He teases, the playful glint in his eyes making it impossible to stay annoyed.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head, before placing all darts down on the table nearby. “Yeah, yeah. Like you’re one to talk about focusing.”

He laughs, and its infectious, a sound that warms the room. “I focus plenty.”

“Yeah,” You agree. “On finding ways to talk dirty.”

The corner of his mouth curls into a confident grin, and his eyes spark with mischief. “It’s a skill. Not everyone can pull off that kind of charm.”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning indifference, though your heart flutters a little. “Charm? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Absolutely,” he replies, his tone low and teasing, eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sends a thrill down your spine. “You know you love it.”

“You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“And you love every minute of it,” He counters, leaning slightly closer, the playful challenge in his gaze making it hard to resist the pull between you. The air around you feels charged, a mix of flirtation and genuine connection.

“You know, I fucking hate you.” You say, the words slipping our more forcefully than intended.

Charles chuckles dryly, no humor lacing in his tone. “That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?”

“Harsh?” You let out a laugh tinged with bitterness, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “No. Jake won’t even look at me since whatever you said to him.” You cross your arms over your chest.

The air between you thickens, the weight of unspoken tension almost suffocating. Charles shifts slightly, his expression darkening as seriousness settles over him. “Good.”

“I can’t even believe you right now.” Frustration wells up inside as you reach for your bag, the rough fabric grounding you as you stomp toward the exit. Each step feels heavy, fueled by a mix of anger and disbelief. The lively chatter of the bar fades behind you, leaving only the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Charles doesn’t let up, his footsteps echoing behind you, persistent and urgent. “You’re literally such an asshole,” You throw over your shoulder, the words sharp and cutting.

“He doesn’t deserve you!” he shouts, frustration spilling over as he catches up to you, breathless. His hand runs through his hair, a familiar gesture of agitation, and before you can step away, he reaches for your shoulder, gently halting you in your tracks.

“Deserve me?” You repeat his words, incredulity lacing your voice. “What the fuck does that even mean? You hate me, remember?”

Charles looks up at the sky for a brief moment, his expression a mix of frustration and confusion, as if he’s searching for clarity among the stars. “I don’t hate you,” he finally admits, his voice low but intense. “I just… I can’t stand watching him touch you.”

You can feel the tension radiating between you, charged and electric. “But it’s not your call,” you reply, your tone softer but still defensive. 

“You don’t think I know that?” He laughs, but its somewhat sad sounding. “You…you drive me insane.” He says, but its almost as if he’s talking to himself.

“You drive me completely insane actually. Like all I can ever hear is your fuckin’ voice inside of my head. Arguing me over everything. And your stupid fuckin’ jokes too. I can’t even look at olives without seeing your fuckin’ face in them.” He continues on, the words pouring out of him and he can’t stop.

“And I know it sounds crazy because I’ve been such a dick to you. But I didn’t know how to handle these feelings. I mean you’re Carlos’s best friend,” he confesses, his voice trembling slightly, “but I like hearing your voice inside of my head. I like that olives remind me of you. I like you.” His eyes are locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

They’re so green. A vivid, almost luminescent shade that captures the light and seems to hold an entire universe within them. You realize you’ve never truly noticed how striking they are until this very moment—the way they flicker with emotion, drawing you in and holding you captive.

The green is rich and deep, like a forest canopy dappled with sunlight, alive with the promise of something untamed. You find yourself getting lost in them, feeling the weight of his confession settle around you like a warm embrace. It’s as if all the barriers that had kept you apart are beginning to dissolve, and you can see a vulnerability in him that you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge before.

For a fleeting moment, the world around you fades away—the sounds of the bustling bar, the cool night air, the lingering frustration—all of it blurs into the background. In the depths of his gaze, you sense a longing, a desire that mirrors your own, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You feel the tension shift, and the space between you feels charged, alive with possibility.

“So hate me all you want, but I couldn’t watch Hangman try to have a meaningless fuck with you.”

“You don’t mean that.” Your voice comes out small and unsure, your throat feeling dryer than before from his confessions.

“Don’t mean what?” He steps closer, eyes never falling from yours, as his calloused finger tips rest along your hips. He almost expects you to flinch and shove him away— hell you think you would too— but you don’t. 

“You think I’d lie about liking you? About wanting you?” His eyes drop to your lips for a mere second before meeting your gaze once more. “It’s not a lie. I’m not that cruel.”

You go to turn from his hold, but his grip on your hips tightens. “Bug, I swear. Why would I embarrass myself like this if it weren’t true?”

The tension is palpable, an electric charge hanging in the air, and your stomach swarms with warmth at his words. “I can’t get your fuckin’ lips out of my mind,” he nearly pleads, his voice thick with desire. “I need to kiss you. Please let me kiss you, yeah?”

You feel your heart race, your thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm as his confession washes over you. The weight of the moment feels like it could burst, and you swear your brain short-circuits, caught between disbelief and overwhelming longing.

Before he can say another word, you rise on your tiptoes, driven by an instinct you can’t ignore. In a swift, bold move, you press your lips to his. The kiss is soft at first, tentative yet charged with all the unspoken words and emotions that have built up between you.

As his lips meld against yours, a rush of warmth surges, igniting a fire that spreads from your lips to the tips of your fingers. The kiss deepens, turning from hesitant to passionate, and Charles groans into your mouth.

Time seems to stretch, the world around you fading into a blur. All that exists is the taste of him, the warmth of his breath, and the intoxicating feeling of connection that envelops you both. 

“Bug,” He pulls you both apart. “We gotta stop or I’m gonna take you right here on the deck of this place.”

You pull back from his embrace, giving him a look as you breath heavily, your lips swollen. “Is it bad to say I like that idea?”

His lets out a long groan and tilts his head back. “I always knew you’d be the death of me.”

“Take me home, P.”

-

“Fuck, baby.” He groans hotly into your ear. “Keep fuckin’ doin that.” His hoarse voice muttered, hands behind his head as he watches you work yourself over his cock.

There’s a sense of desperation on your face, and he can’t help but smirk at the sight of it. 

Your eyes burned with the tears that slid down your cheeks. The feeling of being filled to the brim and fucked the way you needed, was more than enough to elicit tears.

“Fu-uuck.” He groans again, panting out as he drops his hands to hold both your hips. Your hips swivel, a heavy moan escaping your lips as you ground yourself against him in a feverish pace.

“P,” you whine as your mouth falls open into an “O” shape. The air around you is humid and thick as Charles thrusts his hips up into you with ease. “M’so close.”

“Yeah?” His fingers slip to the nape of your neck, squeezing roughly as he pulls your chest down to his. Pumping his cock upwards into you. “C’mon, give it to me.”

You fail to form any words, nothing but grunts and small moans escaping past your lips as Charles fucks himself into you. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room. 

“Need it so bad, baby.” He mutters into your ear in between groans. “Need to feel you on me.”

“Mmm, feels so nice.” He urges you on. “You do it so well.”

Charles couldn’t help himself as your wall clamp down him tightly. The pace of his hips, and the force of you driving down onto him, was enough to send you both spiraling over the edge. Crashing.

“You’re so good. Mon dieu.”

“M’gonna go insane baby. Need more.” He groans, flipping you both over before slipping your leg up and fucking into you again. “Y’feel so good. Can’t stop.”

"Never gonna be mean to you again."

"No?"

"No. I promise, Bug."

"Even when I eat olives?"

"Even when you eat olives."

"What about when I argue you on anything."

"Don't care. I only fought with you because it was the only time you gave me actual attention."

Your heart clenches at his words, his hips slowing down as he presses soft kisses to your face.

"What about when-"

"Never again, Bug."

[77zrose]

ZB1 REACTION TO THEIR S/O BEING A YAPPER

genre : ot9, fluff “ 🛋️ .*

( for my yappers out there. im taking req so if u want go ahead and tap the “zzz” on my profile and make a request! )

김지웅 kim jiwoong

Jiwoong would find your endless chatter adorable. He’s the type to listen attentively, occasionally nodding or smiling, letting you know he’s engaged even if he doesn’t say much. When you start rambling about something random, he’d just lean back and enjoy the way your eyes light up.

Jiwoong :

“You’ve been talking about this for 30 minutes now, and I still don’t know how we got here. Keep going, though—I like hearing you.”

When you realize you’ve been talking too much and apologize, he’d gently shake his head.

Jiwoong :

“Don’t apologize. I love how excited you get when you talk.”

성한빈 sung hanbin

Hanbin would adore your chatter and be the most patient listener. He’d give you his full attention, nodding and reacting to your stories like you’re the most interesting person in the world. Even if you talk his ear off, he wouldn’t mind.

Hanbin :

“You’re so cute when you get excited about things. What else happened? Tell me more.”

If you apologize for talking too much, he’d immediately reassure you.

Hanbin :

“Don’t ever stop. I love hearing what’s on your mind. It makes me feel closer to you.”

장하오 zhanghao

Zhanghao would listen with genuine interest, chiming in at the right moments to keep the conversation flowing. He’d find your energy refreshing and wouldn’t mind if you jumped from one topic to another.

“Wait, wait. How did we go from talking about your lunch to this conspiracy theory about pigeons?”

Even if he gets lost in the conversation, he’d admire your enthusiasm.

Zhanghao :

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who can talk this much, but somehow you make it entertaining.”

석매튜 seok matthew

Matthew would be amused and entertained by your endless talking. He’d laugh at your tangents and might even try to match your energy by chiming in with jokes or comments. He’d make it clear he enjoys your company, even if you’re rambling about something totally random.

Matthew :

“Wait, so you’re saying you almost burned the kitchen down because you were distracted by…a cat meme?”

If you ever felt embarrassed about talking too much, he’d brush it off.

Matthew :

“Are you kidding? I love how much you talk. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

김태래 kim taerae

Taerae would quietly listen to you with a warm smile on his face. He wouldn’t interrupt you but would occasionally nod or respond softly to show he’s paying attention. When you ramble about something silly, he’d laugh gently and encourage you to keep going.

Taerae :

“You have such a way of making even the smallest things sound so interesting. Don’t stop.”

If you ever worried about annoying him, he’d shake his head.

Taerae :

“Annoyed? Never. I could listen to you all day. Your voice makes me happy.”

리키 ricky

Ricky would find your constant talking both hilarious and endearing. He’d tease you playfully but would secretly love how expressive you are. When you go off on a tangent, he’d lean back with a smirk, waiting for a chance to tease you.

Ricky :

“You’ve been talking for ten minutes straight—do you ever run out of breath?”

But when he sees you pouting, he’d soften immediately.

Ricky :

“I’m just kidding. I like it when you talk. It’s fun watching you get so animated.”

김규빈 kim gyuvin

Gyuvin would be overwhelmed at first, unsure how to handle your constant talking. But as he gets used to it, he’d start finding it comforting. He might zone out occasionally, but he’d always snap back when he hears something interesting.

Gyuvin :

“Wait, what? Back up a second—did you just say your dog can ‘talk’ too?”

He’d grow to love your chatter, even if he can’t keep up all the time.

Gyuvin :

“Honestly, you could talk all day, and I’d still enjoy having you around.”

박건욱 park gunwook

Gunwook would find your endless talking amusing and might even try to match your energy. He’d throw in random comments to keep the conversation lively and would probably encourage you to keep going, even if it’s about something completely random.

Gunwook :

“So you’re telling me you spent three hours watching videos about…otters? And now you want to adopt one?”

When you apologize for rambling, he’d shrug and smile.

Gunwook :

“Hey, I like hearing you talk. It’s never boring with you.”

한유진 han yujin

Yujin would be a little shy at first, unsure how to respond to your endless talking. But as he grows more comfortable, he’d start listening intently and even laughing at your tangents. He’d think your chatter is cute, even if it leaves him speechless sometimes.

Yujin :

“Wow, you’re really passionate about this. I don’t think I’ve ever thought that much about…toaster ovens.”

If you ever felt self-conscious, he’d reassure you quietly.

Yujin :

“It’s okay. I like it. You’re fun to be around, and I learn so much just from listening to you.”

[dakusan]

How skz use emojis (with tier rankings)

stray kids ot8 x reader | humor, chaos, soft delulu

🌙 synopsis: some of them are emotionally stable. some of them use emojis like they’re decoding ancient scripts. this is how skz would text you—via emoji abuse, unhinged chains, and the occasional soft heart. ranked. judged. exposed.

💌 a/n: you ever get a message from someone and it’s just 6 emojis in a row and now you’re spiralling? yeah. that’s what this is. from curated ✨ aesthetics to 🧍‍♂️ level nonsense—i studied them like a scientist. they all have different love languages. most of them are unhinged. p.s. if you’ve ever said “he texts just like han” i’m sorry for your loss p.p.s. reblog before you catch feelings over a cat emoji

📍credits: @cafekitsune for the divider

🎶 Now Playing: "Super Shy" — New Jeans

Tier system:

S-Tier: dangerously iconic. elite use of emojis.

A-Tier: knows what they’re doing. emotionally stable… for now.

B-Tier: inconsistent but charming.

C-Tier: concerning choices.

F-Tier: chaos. emotional terrorism.

Bang Chan // 방찬 emoji usage tier: A-Tier he knows what he’s doing. most of the time. go-to emojis: 😭 ☠️ ❤️ 🤷‍♂️ how he uses them:

uses 😭 for literally everything. laughing? crying? annoyed? it’s always 😭

dramatic boy energy with the skull ☠️, usually after you roast him

says something incredibly vulnerable and follows it up with “lol ❤️” to soften the blow

overthinks emoji tone so ends up sending 3 different ones just in case

example messages:

“i swear if you ghost me 😭😭😭” “i wrote a song and accidentally made it about u lol ❤️“ “u make me feel things ☠️ unfollow” ”did u eat?? answer wisely ☠️❤️”

Lee Know // 리노 emoji usage tier: C-Tier only uses emojis when he’s trying to be annoying or dangerously flirty go-to emojis: 🐱 👍 😐 🙃 how he uses them:

thumbs up 👍 is his passive-aggressive specialty. it’s his period at the end of a sentence

randomly sends 🐱 when he’s pretending to be cute (it’s working)

uses 😐 to emotionally terrorise you

thinks emojis are cringe unless he’s being a menace

example messages:

“ok 👍” (you’re in trouble) “i’m ignoring u rn 😐” sends a pic of soonie with 🐱 and no context

Changbin // 창빈 emoji usage tier: B-Tier his emoji game is emotional gym bro meets softie energy go-to emojis: 💪 😭 🖤 🐷 how he uses them:

💪 = “i’m tough” but also “i’ll carry you to bed if needed”

😭 every time he gets flustered or fake-upset when you don’t answer

uses 🖤 when trying to sound cool but he’s actually a mushball

has sent 🐷 once in a self-roast and you never let him live it down

example messages:

“did u eat?? u better 😭” “thinking about u at the gym 💪” “stop being so cute omg 😭🖤”

Hyunjin // 현진 emoji usage tier: S-Tier curated like a Pinterest board. devastatingly effective. go-to emojis: ✨ 🤍 🥺 😭 how he uses them:

sends ✨ in between words like poetry

🤍 when he’s being soft and vulnerable (aka always)

🥺 because he knows you can’t handle it

occasionally drops a 😭 when he’s being dramatic (every day)

example messages:

“you looked like a dream today ✨” “i’m gonna paint you someday 🤍” “i miss u. painfully. 😭🥺” sends an aesthetic pic of the sky with no words and just ✨

Han // 한 emoji usage tier: F-Tier you are NOT safe. no pattern. pure chaos. go-to emojis: 🤡 😭 🐸 🙈 🧍‍♂️ how he uses them:

uses 🤡 for self-roasting AND flirting. dual purpose.

sends 😭 100x and means a different thing every time

will drop 🐸 + 🚗 with no context and expect you to understand

sends 7 emojis in a row. still says he’s being “normal”

example messages:

“i accidentally flirted with u. my bad 🧍‍♂️🤡🙈” “love u lol 😭🐸” sends frog emoji + heart + explosion + traffic light “decipher that. it means i miss u”

Felix // 필릭스 emoji usage tier: A-Tier sunshine-coded chaos. go-to emojis: ✨ 🥺 💛 ☀️ 🫶 how he uses them:

overuses ✨ and 🥺 in the most endearing way

💛 = you’re in trouble (but in a soft way)

will send 🫶 with no words and you’ll still melt

sometimes throws in a kiss emoji and immediately follows it with “ignore that”

example messages:

“i saw this cat and thought of u 🥺✨” “don’t skip lunch okay? 💛” “i love you more than brownies 🫶” “wait i sent that kiss emoji by accident pls don’t—”

Seungmin // 승민 emoji usage tier: C-Tier (and proud of it) cold-blooded texter who occasionally slips go-to emojis: 🙄 👍 😐 😎 how he uses them:

sends 👍 like a mic drop

🙄 is his love language (you hate it. you love it.)

pretends emojis are dumb but once sent 🫣 by accident and panicked

sends them sparingly. it hits harder that way.

example messages:

“you’re so dramatic 🙄” “sure. 👍” “not thinking about u or anything 😐” randomly sends 😎 and refuses to explain

I.n // 아이엔 emoji usage tier: B-Tier youngest = chaotic emoji prince go-to emojis: 😩 🧃 🐸 💥 🥹 how he uses them:

will text like he’s casting spells with emoji chains

uses 🥹 when he wants something from you

somehow turned 🧃 into a flirt tactic??

once sent 💥🐸🧍‍♂️ and said “that’s us”

example messages:

“wyd 🧃🐸💥” “you’re kinda my fav person 🥹” “u like me? say yes or i’ll explode 💥😩” “this emoji reminds me of you 🧃 (don’t ask why)”

[moonlightwritingf1]

"Can You Stop Smiling?" | OP81

⋆⁺₊❅. summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N and her best friend, Oscar, have always had a special connection, but this holiday season, things feel different. At a party, Oscar nervously admits he wants to kiss her, and Y/N reveals she’s been waiting for him to make a move. 

⋆⁺₊❅. pairing ━━━━━━━ Oscar Piastri x she!reader

⋆⁺₊❅. word count ━━━━━━━ 1.3k

The holiday season had always been Y/N’s favorite time of year. The chill in the air, the twinkling lights on every corner, the smell of cinnamon and pine—everything felt magical. But this year was different. This year, she was spending the holidays with Oscar, her best friend. Or, at least, that’s what she kept telling herself. The truth was, she was starting to feel something more for him, something she wasn’t sure how to handle.

Oscar was a quiet, reserved guy. He never liked being the center of attention, always avoiding eye contact when people complimented him. But that didn’t stop Y/N from teasing him. She loved seeing him flustered, loved how his cheeks turned a soft shade of pink when she made a comment that got under his skin. They had been friends for years, but recently, there was an unspoken tension between them. The air felt different around him, charged with something neither of them could ignore.

It had started with little things. The way Oscar would look at her for just a second longer than usual when they were talking, the way his hand brushed against hers when they were sitting next to each other. Y/N noticed everything, of course. She was bolder than Oscar, never shy about speaking her mind, but with him, things were different. Every word felt like it mattered more, every touch lingered longer than it should. She was pretty sure that Oscar had feelings for her, but he was too shy to act on them. It drove her crazy.

One crisp December evening, they found themselves at a holiday party thrown by a mutual friend. The apartment was decorated with red and green streamers, stockings hung over the fireplace, and a Christmas tree sparkled with lights in the corner. Laughter and music filled the room, but Y/N only had eyes for Oscar. She watched as he nervously sipped his drink, looking out of place in the bustling crowd. He was cute when he was nervous, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she made her way over to him.

“You’re not having fun, are you?” she asked, leaning against the wall next to him.

Oscar glanced at her, his eyes wide, and then quickly looked away, fiddling with his glass. “I’m fine. Just… a little overwhelmed, I guess.”

Y/N couldn’t stop herself from grinning. “You’re so cute when you’re awkward. It’s like your whole world is spinning, and you’re trying to stay grounded.”

Oscar flushed, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red. He shifted uncomfortably and looked at her again, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer than usual. “Can you stop smiling?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m literally having a seizure suppressing the urge to kiss you.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t expecting that. Not in a million years. For a second, all the noise in the room faded away, and it was just the two of them, standing in the soft glow of the Christmas lights.

“You—” she started, her voice faltering for a moment. She cleared her throat and tried to keep her cool. “You want to kiss me?”

Oscar froze, his face turning even redder. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. “I didn’t mean— I mean, no, not that—well, I mean yes, but—”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. “You’re really cute when you’re nervous, Oscar.”

He sighed, pressing his palm against his forehead. “I can’t do this. I should’ve never said that. You probably think I’m an idiot.”

Y/N chuckled, watching him squirm. It was endearing, really. She had always found his shyness charming, but now, it was a little different. There was an unspoken connection between them, something deeper than friendship. And she wasn’t going to let him hide from it anymore.

“I think you’re cute,” she said softly, leaning in a little closer. “And I don’t think you’re an idiot. In fact, I’ve been waiting for you to say something like that for a while now.”

Oscar blinked, his mouth falling open. He stared at her, clearly trying to process her words. “You’ve… been waiting?”

Y/N nodded, her smile softening. “Yeah, I think you’re worth the wait.”

For a moment, there was a long silence, the kind that felt heavy with possibility. Oscar’s eyes searched hers, his usual shyness replaced by a flicker of something else. Something that looked like hope.

“Well,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I guess that makes two of us.”

Without thinking, Y/N reached up and touched his cheek, her thumb brushing gently over the skin. The touch was light, almost tentative, but it made Oscar’s breath catch in his throat. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into her touch, his hand coming up to rest on hers.

“You really want to kiss me?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Oscar hesitated, his gaze flicking down to her lips before meeting her eyes again. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low and full of warmth. “More than anything.”

Y/N smiled again, unable to help herself. She liked the way he looked at her, the way he seemed to finally be opening up. “Then why don’t you?”

Oscar’s heart raced in his chest. He had wanted this for so long, but he was terrified of messing things up. But Y/N had always made him feel safe, always made him feel like maybe he wasn’t as awkward as he thought. With her, it felt different. Like maybe, just maybe, this could be the beginning of something beautiful.

He didn’t wait any longer.

Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tentative kiss. The moment their lips met, Y/N felt like she was floating. Oscar kissed her gently, almost shyly at first, like he was afraid she might pull away. But Y/N wasn’t going anywhere. She kissed him back, her hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer. She could feel the heat of his body, the softness of his lips against hers. It was everything she had ever wanted.

When they finally pulled away, both of them were breathing a little heavier, their cheeks flushed. Oscar smiled nervously, his eyes sparkling. “That was… nice.”

Y/N laughed, her heart soaring. “Nice? That was the most perfect kiss ever.”

Oscar looked down at his feet, clearly embarrassed but trying to hide it. “I’m glad you think so.”

“You’re a great kisser,” she teased, her voice light and playful. “I might just have to kiss you again to make sure.”

Oscar’s face turned bright red, but this time, he didn’t shy away. Instead, he leaned in again, this time with a little more confidence. “I think I could get used to that.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. They stole moments away from the party to steal kisses under the mistletoe, laughing and teasing each other in between. For once, Oscar wasn’t shy. And for once, Y/N wasn’t teasing just for the sake of it. Everything felt right. Everything felt like it was meant to be.

As the night drew to a close, they stood outside in the cold, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s presence. The city was quiet, the snow falling softly around them. Oscar turned to Y/N, his expression serious for once.

“You know,” he said, his voice a little uncertain, “I think I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time. But I was too scared to say it.”

Y/N smiled, reaching out to take his hand. “I’m glad you said it when you did. I think I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.”

Oscar chuckled softly, squeezing her hand. “I guess I’m not as good at this whole romance thing as you are.”

Y/N grinned mischievously. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

And with that, they shared another kiss, this one slow and sweet, the kind that promised a future filled with more kisses, more laughter, and more of whatever this was between them.

The holiday season had always been her favorite, but now, with Oscar by her side, it felt even more magical than ever.

[loonsloon]

@into-the-jeggyverse, january 25, luck words: 955, cw: blood, but nothing too explicit

Yes, Regulus was aware that he had a bit of a crush on James Potter. After all, the guy was warming up to him fast. It was terrifying to admit, but after spending some time with James—not by his choice, mind you—they could maybe even call each other friends. It was unavoidable, though, because James was everywhere. And if he wasn’t, he’d always find a way to be.

Like right now.

Regulus had been helping Madam Pomfrey these past few days. It all started one random afternoon while he was delivering potions for Slughorn. After admitting that he was interested in becoming a healer, Pomfrey offered him the chance to learn basic healing spells under her guidance, and he agreed. So far, his duties were simple; some minor injuries, like a scraped knee, a bruised elbow, or a first-year’s sprained ankle after tripping on the moving staircase.

What he hadn’t anticipated, though, was how often his idiot brother and his even more idiotic friends would show up. They were in the hospital wing more often than clumsy first-years after flying lessons.

And here he is. James Potter. Bursting through the doors still fully dressed in quidditch gear, grinning ear to ear despite the blood oozing from his forehead. A Gryffindor-themed towel was pressed against the wound, doing nothing to stop the bleeding. Regulus swore his heart skipped a beat—whether from the sight of the blood or the way James’ shirt clung to his torso was debatable.

“Madam Pomfrey! I think I need stitches!” James exclaimed, glancing around for her.

“She’s not here,” Regulus sighed, and James’ eyes finally landed on him.

Moving the towel for a moment, James revealed a cut slicing through his eyebrow. Thankfully, it wasn’t that bad, and it missed his eye entirely.

James’ grin somehow grew wider. Regulus was already regretting being here today.

“Reggie! I didn’t know you were in today,” James said cheerfully, jumping to sit on one of the beds, his feet swinging like an overexcited toddler. Regulus refused to admit that it was adorable. In fact, James and the word adorable had no business being in the same sentence.

“She went to get some potions. Barely anyone’s been in today. She’ll be back soon,” Regulus explained, turning his attention back to organizing the supply cabinet.

“Well, aren’t you training to be a healer? I know you can heal this; it has to be easier than Sirius’ broken nose last week!”

Yes, but Sirius is his brother. Regulus didn’t care if he fucked up his nose. It might’ve even been funny, considering how much Sirius loved to brag about it.

James, though? That was a different story entirely. There was no way Regulus could risk getting so close to him. He was terrified James might suddenly look at him and realize: Oh, so you’ve got bit of a crush on me, huh? And Regulus can’t have that happening.

“I’m not doing anything without Pomfrey’s approval. I haven’t perfected the stitching charms yet, and that looks like a nasty cut,” Regulus lied.

All of that was a lie. Regulus had already handled worse injuries without her. The cut wasn’t even that bad; the blood was only flowing because James was still sweating from practice. His body was literally, and figuratively, hot.

“It’s not that bad! Just a bit deep. C’mon, Reg, at least clean it up,” James pleaded, a cute pout on his face. He’d taken off his glasses and was now holding the towel across his right eye, somehow managing to look ridiculously endearing.

“Fine,” Regulus muttered, utterly defeated. James wasn’t going to leave him alone, so he might as well make himself useful.

“But I’m not stitching it up. You’ll have to wait for Poppy. I’ll just stop the bleeding and clean it up for her.”

He rolled over the medical trolley and stopped it in front of James, positioning himself between James’ sprawled knees. Grabbing gauze and alcohol, he prepared to clean the wound.

“Hi,” James said, smiling down at him. His dimples popped, and his grin was somehow even more genuine than usual.

Regulus felt the blush creeping up his cheeks but refused to show weakness.

“Hi, idiot.”

And there it was—that beautiful fucking laugh.

“Aren’t you going to ask what happened?”

“Something, something, Sirius accidentally hit you with his bat,” Regulus guessed, not bothering to look up. It wasn’t a difficult assumption; the two of them were a disaster in the air, always bickering and pushing each other.

“Hey, how did you know?”

“You’re predictable,” Regulus sighed, starting to dab at the wound with alcohol. James winced.

“That stings!”

“Don’t be a baby. It’s what you get for being careless,” Regulus muttered absentmindedly, still focused on cleaning the cut.

“Aw, do you care about me, Reggie?” James teased, leaning back to look him in the eye.

Regulus felt the heat rising again and glared at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. And stop calling me that, Potter. I told you I hate that nickname.”

Grabbing James by the shirt, he tugged him back into place to finish his work. Desperately trying to hide how flustered he was.

“Alright, alright,” James relented, settling down.

Finally, some silence. Regulus worked quickly, trying to ignore the way James’ knees kept brushing his sides, sending tingles up his spine.

After finishing the cleaning and stopping the bleeding with a quick charm, Regulus stepped back.

“There. You’re done,” he said, moving the trolley away from James’ reach before he could cause more problems.

“Aww, thanks, Reg. Aren’t you going to clean the rest of my face?” James asked, his tone playful, his cheeks still covered with dried blood.

Regulus shot him a glare. “Don’t push your luck, Potter.”

[daycourtofficial]

A Bite Sized Romance

Summary: you offer to make dinner for Azriel, but he gives you half-assed reasons as to why he can’t make it.

Author’s note: I love love love this idea it’s been floating around my head for a LONG time 💕

“Have you ever had ratatouille?” You ask Azriel, taking a bite of the dish in front of you.

Every Thursday, you and the shadowsinger go out to a different restaurant, usually in Velaris, occasionally in other courts. Seeing the shadowsinger could be difficult during the week, especially with your busy schedule, so you two set aside Thursday nights to eating dinner together.

Your brain had a hard time understanding that these were not necessarily dates, even though that is exactly what Cassian, Mor, the whole IC, and even Azriel and yourself call them.

“No, what’s rat patootie?” He says, taking a bite of his pasta.

“Ratatouille,” you correct, sighing wistfully, “it’s a traditional dish my mom used to make when I was a kid. I don’t think annyone in Velaris makes it. This dish kind of reminds me of it, but it’s not the same.”

You sit up, a smile stretching across your face. “Maybe next Thursday I’ll cook it for us. It’s so much better homemade - what do you say?”

He stills at your words, almost choking on his food. Through coughs he tells you, “surely there’s somewhere we can go for it, I wouldn’t want to trouble you with cooking.”

“But I like cooking,” you object. “And despite the copious amounts of meals we’ve shared together, I don’t think I’ve ever cooked for you.”

He doesn’t want to budge, so you pull out the big guns.

You pout your lip, making your eyes look as sad and endearing as possible, “please, Az? It reminds me of being a kid again. And I’d love to share that with you.”

Mother forsake him, he couldn’t say no to your sad, puppy dog eyes.

“Fine,” he grumbles, sure he’ll figure a way out of it before Thursday comes. Perhaps he could find a way to get impaled.

You squeal, “oooh you’re going to love it!”

-

Thursday was fast approaching, and Azriel was trying to use every excuse in the book to keep this dinner from happening. He told you Rhys had to send him on a mission that night, which you immediately turned around and went to Rhys’s office and asked him to send someone else.

Rhys, having no idea what you were talking about, sees Azriel in the doorway who tells him mind to mind, “come on, say you have to send me.”

Rhys sends the equivalent of a smirk to Azriel mentally and tells you, “my mistake, I didn’t realize what day I was telling him to leave.”

Azriel stood in the doorway and gave his brother the finger from behind you.

Azriel made excuses, all ranging from Cassian needing help with training, Feyre needing an escort to the Hewn City, even to Mor needing help with the upkeep of the horses in the guard. Every excuse was denied by his so-called family, not allowing him to use them as scapegoats. It was starting to make you suspicious.

Thursday morning after Azriel’s last ditch attempt to get out of the dinner, involving some excuse about Eris needing rescuing, you sigh, exasperated.

“Okay Az, it was just an idea. Clearly you don’t want to do it, so just.. don’t bother, okay? Go save Eris from whatever it is that’s attacking him.”

You turn, wanting to leave the kitchen before Azriel sees how much this actually upsets you. “That’s not-“ he starts, trying to grab you as you pass him, but you wriggle from his grasp, disappearing into the hallway up to your bedroom.

Az was sitting on the kitchen counter, wallowing in self-pity over how poorly he handled that situation, when Cassian walked in.

“And what do you have to be so upset about, pretty boy?”

Azriel lifts his head, looking at Cassian eating a stupid banana. Gods, he wanted to throttle him. “Oh no, I’m Azriel and a beautiful woman wants to cook me dinner, even though I eat dinner with her most nights and have weekly dates with her even though I deny anyth-“

Cassian stops, taking a bite of his banana. He looks up, and realization dawns on him.

“Oh my gods,” he says, his mouth full of banana. Azriel decides to play the denial game, because surely Cassian did not figure out the secret he’s kept guarded for several months while eating a fucking banana.

Cassian looked at him, turning to look up the stairs where you had left just a few moments ago, “you two?”

Azriel rolls his eyes, “we’re friends, yes.”

Cassian rolls his eyes even harder. “I’m not an idiot. You follow her around like a pitiful puppy,” he says, coming closer to his brother, “you two eat just about every meal together, but the one day she offers to cook for you suddenly you can’t find time for her?”

Cassian narrows his eyes at Azriel, “you ashamed of her or something?”

Azriel’s eyes widen, not only at Cassian’s question that he could ever be ashamed of you, but also at Cassian’s change in demeanor.

Cassian slips into the protective big brother role when it comes to you quite easily, Azriel thinks as Cassian puffs out his chest while he strides over to stand next to Azriel.

“Now why on earth would I be ashamed of her?”

Cassian inspects Azriel for a second before asking, “then why haven’t you told her?”

He pauses, then asks, “how long have you known?”

Azriel huffs, “known what?”

“That she’s your mate.”

Azriel stills at Cassian’s words. They liked to poke fun of Cass, calling him a dumb brute, but Cassian was no fool. If any member of his family were to discover his secret, it would be Cassian.

Azriel looks at him, “a few months. I’ve been… waiting.” He sighs, “I keep wanting to tell her and then I psyche myself out. Once I tell her, things will be… different.”

Azriel hates how quiet his voice becomes as he says, “what if she is ashamed of who the mother picked for her?”

Cassian’s chest deflates, all sense of protectiveness over you gone and replaced with protectiveness over his brother.

“Then she’d be a fool.”

Looking down, Azriel watches as Cassian’s foot gently nudges his own, a silent request from Cassian for him to look up.

“There is no way she would ever be ashamed of you or be upset that you’re her mate.”

The way Cassian is looking at Azriel makes him want to shy away, but Cassian keeps his gaze steady, almost locking Azriel’s eyes into place.

“I’d be willing to bet she has journals full of doodles where she draws little hearts with your names in it, and she also writes “Mrs. Shadowsinger”

The rise in octave in his brother’s voice causes a laugh to burst out of him, but Cassian continues.

“I once tried to sit next to you for a meal and I’ve never seen anyone move as quickly as she did to claim her seat. Honestly, this will come as a shock to no one.”

Azriel looked back up at his brother to find him already looking at him, a soft gaze grazing his face.

“We’re happy for you two.”

Azriel scoffs, “I take that to mean you’ve already told Rhysand?”

Cassian starts walking away, going to pick up the remainder of his banana. “Oh yeah, we’ve had a bet for about a year now. Rhys thought the bond had snapped for her, but I knew it would be you. You’ve made me a much richer man, Az.”

Cassian bows in thanks, ducking out the door as Azriel throws a different banana towards the space he was occupying.

-

You had been sulking in your room for what felt like hours after Azriel’s latest rejection. You spent the whole time flipping between thinking about all the little moments that had you swearing there was something happening between you two, and each and every excuse he had made to get out of this dinner.

Was your cooking that bad? Was he tired of you taking up every one of his Thursday nights?

The two of you spent an absurd amount of time together - you ate most meals together at the house, you saw each other multiple times every day. Were you wrong?

A knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts, but before you can respond, the door is opening and Cassian pokes his head in. He has a hand covering his eyes, but he’s made a slit between his middle and ring fingers, allowing him to still see.

“Are you decent?” He asks, looking around the room.

He sighs at seeing you dressed on your bed, pulling his hand away from his face as he walks in, closing the door behind him.

You giggled, “Cass the whole point is to not see someone naked.”

He rolled his eyes as he plopped down next to you on your bed, “you don’t even want to give me a peak? I’ve had such a hard day, a little skin would make me feel better.”

You laugh, picking up a pillow and hitting him with it. He lets you hit him, pretending to fall dramatically onto his back.

“Tell Rhys I loved him,” he sighs dramatically, pretending to die.

You laugh at his foolish antics, but Cassian continues to pretend he’s dead. You lean into him, about to poke his face, when he grabs your waist, hoisting you over his shoulder.

“Now come on, I’ve got shopping to do and I need your help.”

-

After Cassian had left, Azriel spent some time trying to decide how he could make this up to you. He didn’t want to force you into accepting a bond that you didn’t know about by presenting him with food.

He paced his room, his long legs gliding across the wooden floors making no noise. His shadows were combing through the house, trying to find out where you had gone after your earlier spat.

Azriel replaced with pacing with purposeful steps as he headed towards his bedroom door, the perfect solution coming to him.

-

“Thank you Cassian,” you say, squeezing his arm your hand was tucked into.

“For what? My incredibly charming presence?” He smirks down at you.

You scoff, “I felt awful earlier but you pulled me out of my spiraling, thanks.” You say, nudging him a bit.

Cassian had gotten you out of your room and the two of you walked around Velaris, mostly people watching and talking.

He hums, “well, both of my brothers are idiots,” he says, getting a laugh out of you. “They take turns on who holds the idiot stick. Today it’s Azriel.”

“Do you ever hold the idiot stick?”

“Occasionally, very rarely, I will pass it between the two of them, so I only have it for a moment or two.”

You snort, looking down at your feet. If Cassian thought Azriel was being stupid, does he see what you see?

You start to ask him, to prod him for more answers about Azriel, when he pats your hand, turning your attention to where the two of you had ended up on this walk.

The townhouse.

Your brows crease in confusion as Cassian removes your hand from his elbow, pats your shoulder, and tells you to have a good night.

You start to sputter, wanting to know why you’re here. He shrugs, “I don’t question my orders.” He gives you a two finger salute before turning around and walking away.

You turn back around, looking at the entrance to the townhouse, afraid of what you’ll find on the other side of the door, but going up and knocking anyway.

The door opens, but no one is there. A small shadow swirls around you, moving up from your feet to your face, caressing your cheek before zipping off to the kitchen.

You step through the threshold and a new shadow comes and shuts the door, another two come and help you take your coat off and hang it up for you.

You walk towards the kitchen, where you can hear the clattering of plates and some delicious aromas filling the whole house. Inside the kitchen you find Azriel, with a frilly apron tied around his waist, putting the finishing touches on two plates at the table.

“What’s all this?” You ask him, doubt creeping in that this isn’t meant for you.

“Sit, sit,” he beckons, pulling out a chair for you. You look around the room, covered in flickering candlelight and flowers. He must have been working on this for hours.

You look down at your plate, the bright colors of ratatouille catching your eye. You gasp, wanting to know how much effort he went to find a recipe for it.

He takes off the apron, sitting across from you.

“I… made an ass of myself, and I’d like to apologize first and foremost for that.” You open your mouth to interrupt him, but he holds up a hand. “Let me finish, I have.. a lot to tell you.”

He takes a deep breath, stilling his nerves. You look so pretty in the glow of the candles, and the slight concern you’ll hate him is enough to distract him, but he has to tell you this.

“There’s a reason I didn’t want you to cook for me. A few months ago we were in the library, reading, and I looked up and I watched you tuck your hair behind your ear, laughing at something in your book and I.. felt it.”

You’re in a trance, listening to him speak.

“I felt like I was dying and coming back to life, like your hand was wrapped around my heart, squeezing in time, keeping it beating. I made up some half-assed excuse to leave, because I needed to talk to Rhys.”

You looked at him, hoping your gaze would encourage him to continue.

“Rhys confirmed what I thought it was - the bond snapping. And I was terrified.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I was terrified if I told you, you’d deny the bond, you’d break my heart. So I… put off telling you. I couldn’t.”

He looks down at his lap, fidgeting his fingers.

“I kept trying to tell you, then I’d chicken out. Then when you offered to cook for me, I couldn’t let it happen. I couldn’t let you accidentally accept the bond, accept me without knowing about it.”

He sighs, “I felt awful when I realized you thought I was rejecting you. Far from it. So I’ve uh.. made you dinner.”

You finally speak, “you made me dinner.”

“I made you dinner. And dessert, actually.”

Leave it to Azriel to outdo himself by finding the time to make dessert.

You weren’t letting a single emotion show on your face, and it made a shiver run up Azriel’s spine.

After what could have been hours, you slowly smiled, looking at him, “what kind of dessert did you make?”

He pauses, “I uh made you- us, uh chocolate mousse. I made two, but I thought we could share one.”

He looks at you, still not giving anything away, “if you want to, of course.”

He shifts, your silence making him uneasy.

“If you don’t want to accept it, I understand. I kept it from you, and I’m me, loving me would be rotten work- what are you doing?”

In the middle of his rambling, you picked up your fork, getting a nice helping of food on your fork, bringing it up to your mouth.

“Well, my mate made me dinner, and it looks incredible. Why would I not want to take a bite?”

He looks at you, a rush of emotions flooding him. Surprise, confusion, elation.

“But, but I can promise you to love me, to be my mate, it’s rotten work.”

You smile, “not to me it’s not.”

You pause, “not if it’s you,” and take a bite.

His chest sings, feeling warmth radiating throughout him. Feeling love radiate through him, and he realizes that’s you.

You keep eating the food, that hum getting louder and more vibrant, until you’ve cleared your plate, and stride over to him.

You grab his face in your hands, tilting his head so he’ll look into your eyes. “If you think I am not aware of who you are, what you do, your darkest parts, you are mistaken. And if you think I will shy away from those things, you are a fool.”

He hadn’t realized he was crying until you swiped your thumb across his cheek, swiping it away.

You smile down at him, and he has never felt so loved, so whole as he does in this moment. His mate, the one person the cauldron deemed would understand him, just chose him.

He feels like that little boy, looked in the dungeon, daydreaming about being saved by an angel. And he has.

He stands up, cupping your face in his hands, “I was in love with you before the bond snapped for me. I’m not here just because the cauldron told me to be, let me assure you that.”

You smile, a heat creeping up your cheeks. “I’m only here for the chocolate mousse.”

He laughs, a genuine, roaring laugh.

You pull his face in close to yours, gazing into his eyes. “And I have been in love with you since the day after I met you.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “the day after?”

You smile, “well I thought I was in love with you that first day, but then on that second day I heard you speak, and I knew no one would ever compare.”

You feel his happiness in your chest, as if his heart is also in your ribcage, yours and his intertwined, dancing through your chest together.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his mouth so close to your own your breaths are intermingling.

You smile at his thoughtfulness, his hesitation.

“Only if you promise to never stop.”

[calebslittleapple]

feels like home: red lace

After finding a lacy surprise in his washing machine, Caleb checks the security footage from his apartment in Skyhaven, only to see that he’s missed out on much more than he realized. Rushing from his home to hers, Caleb quickly realizes that his Pip-squeak is more cunning than he thought, and as the night goes on and their desires are heightened, they’ll finally stop holding back. AKA: turbo virgins CalebMc finally get to doin’ it after some LIGHT panty-sniffy and frustration-inspired exhibitionism/voyeurism HAHA.

Pairing: LaDS Caleb x MC (she/her)

Genre: Smut (with feelings)

CW: Codependency; Pip-squeak as an endearment; Panty Sniffing; masturbation; light exhibitionism; Light Voyeurism; Cunnilingus; Penis In Vagina Sex; Loss of Virginity; inappropriate use of Caleb's Evol; MC is named Emme Sea; Caleb and MC POV

Also on AO3

Where are you? I thought you were supposed to be home by now

Caleb glances at his phone while half-listening to the meeting he’s sitting in on—his third of the day. He is supposed to be spending the evening with his girl, but one thing leads to another, and now she’s sitting in his apartment in Skyhaven all alone.

Meeting running late. Sorry, Pip-squeak. I’ll grab takeout on the way home? ☹️ Do you count as takeout? Come home, Caleb. I’m lonely, and I miss you

His heart twists at that, while other parts of his anatomy tighten… Caleb shakes his head and takes a deep, audible breath. All eyes turn to him.

“Colonel?”

Caleb clears his throat. “We need to wrap this up in the next ten minutes.”

Backs straighten as gazes lock onto the clearly unimpressed colonel. “Right, well. I was going to do an open question period, but that can be handled via e-mail…”

It takes him an hour to get home from work. He’s picked up ramen from a nearby restaurant, but when he steps into his home, all the lights in the living room are off.

She must have gone to bed.

Emme had one hell of a week at work and was fortunate to have a day off. Naturally, she wanted to spend it with him. Of course, Caleb’s time isn’t as free at the moment, but he’d walk on nails if it meant he could free up space in his schedule for her.

After sticking the ramen in the fridge, he pads through the hallways of his apartment, searching for the one person in the world he always wants to see. He checks her room—his old space—but she’s not there.

A soft light spills from within his bedroom, and he spies Emme laying there, half covered by the blankets, and wrapped up around the soft sleeping shirt he’d been wearing last night. Torn between his desire to let her sleep, and his need to see, hear, feel, taste her, Caleb stands there and stares down at her. His Pip-squeak. His first and only love.

Things have been changing between them, though he can’t quite abandon the role that he’d long since been cast in—caretaker, comforter, her Caleb. But sometimes, the walls come down, and she’ll end up in his lap, his arms wrapped tight around her as they tease and flirt and reminisce, sharing heat and space as the borders of their relationship expand.

Sometimes, it’s just like the old days, where they watch a movie, drive each other nuts, and end up falling asleep on his big sofa.

And sometimes… he’ll find himself on his knees in the shower, his Evol holding her tight against the wall, as he sucks and finger fucks her to completion as the sound of water smothers some of her cries while washing away the day, reservations, and everything else.

Being kept from her by work put him in a foul mood. She’d probably tease him for it if she was awake. Stepping close to his bed, Caleb ducks and reaches down, skimming his fingers through her hair as she softly snores on his pillow.

The love he has for her is so potent that it’s hard to think around. Tonight, his desire to keep her safe and comfortable wins out over his desire to hear her moan his name. After showering, Caleb dresses in some pajamas and crawls into bed beside her. His long arms curl around her and tug her close. She softly breathes out his name, presses back into his chest, and goes right back to quietly snoring.

Caleb leans in, breathes in deep, and lets her sweet, apple-tinged scent wash over him. Every moment spent with her is one he cherishes, and with her curled up in his arms, Caleb actually manages to sleep soundly and without nightmares. She’s his good luck charm and chases away the dark with only her presence.

The next morning, they get up together and he makes breakfast for her, while she makes the coffee. Same as always. And when she’s just about ready to head back to Linkon City, she gets up onto her tip toes and kisses him so thoroughly that he has a really hard time letting her go.

“Come visit me in a few days,” she says between breathless kisses.

“Mmm,” he replies, knowing that he has a shitton of work to do, but also knowing that he’ll blow off food, sleep, and anything else he needs to make time for her. A few days pass, and Caleb is spending the evening doing some laundry—his and hers because she always manages to leave something behind.

Which he doesn’t mind. He loves it when she invades his space. Hell, he wishes she’d move in with him, but half hates the idea because he doesn’t want her pulled into the mess of living in Skyhaven. But still… if he could have her all the time, Caleb knows he’d be able to keep her safe.

Keep her for him, and him alone.

It’s these dark, possessive thoughts that consume him when she’s been away from him for more than a few days. Having her clothes nearby is a nice reminder that he’ll see her soon and helps to keep him sane.

Taking a breath, he tries to calm down, and it almost works, at least, until he notices something strange in his washer. Something red is hanging on the inside. Caleb scoops out the fabric, thinking that maybe he forgot to switch a sock over into the dryer, but immediately freezes when he pulls it closer.

It’s not a sock.

They’re red lace panties.

Caleb swallows. When the hell had she worn this? His mind immediately flashes back to her text—he’d almost felt her pouting through the messages. Was this why? Had she dressed up for him?

Fuck.

Closing his eyes, he’s about to throw the panties back into the washer, but maybe they’re clean? He should probably check. And really, shouldn’t something this fragile be washed by hand, anyway? Caleb talks himself into circles before finally gritting his teeth and pulling the flimsy scrap of clothing close to his nose and… and…

Fuuuuck.

They’re uhh… not clean. And they smell… so fucking good, like a sweet blend of her apple-scented soap and her body’s natural fragrance. His cock is immediately and viciously hard in his pants. Like Pavlov’s fucking bell, but for perverts.

But if he’s the pervert for smelling her clothes, what does that make her, considering it seems they were left for him to find? He feels nearly fuckin’ feral with his need for her, and before he can talk himself out of it, he’s popping the button on his jeans, dragging the zipper down, and curling his length out from inside his boxers.

With her panties still wrapped around his warm hand, he grips himself, tugging once, twice, thrice before coming on his hand. It’s quick, too quick, and not nearly enough. He looks down at his hand, still gently wrapped around his dick, and stares at the cum staining her panties.

He’s gonna have to wash them now. So, he takes them into the shower and uses the panties to lather himself up with his body wash. When he’s done, they’re gonna smell like him. And when he gives them back, he’s gonna make damn sure that she smells like him, too.

But he comes down from his high quickly enough, and rational thoughts start to creep in. What if it was a mistake, and his dick was tricking him? What if she didn’t mean for him to find the panties? He towel dries the panties, dresses in his pajamas and all but throws himself onto his sofa, wrestling with his desires and insecurities until he’s a wreck.

He flicks the red scrap of clothing around his finger for a moment before he opens the HUD on his phone and remembers that he can check his security footage. He scans the footage from the last few days and finally stops when he sees her standing in his place. She makes a call—to him, likely—and tosses her phone onto the sofa in a fit of pique before dumping herself onto the plush fabric.

A few moments more, and she’s grabbing her phone, scanning through it before she grows bored and tosses it again. He skips a little, and when it comes back up, he’s utterly unprepared for what he’s about to see.

All the air leaves his lungs in a rush as he sees his girl, sitting in the exact spot as he’s sitting, topless, legs spread as her hand slips beneath the band of her lacy panties.

Caleb swallows and turns up the volume, only to be greeted with the sweet sound of her panting his fucking name.

Rubbing a hand over his mouth, he quickly rolls back to the start and finds her staring up at the camera, only to deftly tug the shirt—his oversized shirt, actually—over and off her body. No bra. A few moments more, and she’s standing, bending, shimmying for the camera as she pulls down her shorts and reveals the tiny red panties he’d found.

She slips back to the sofa. Taking her fingers into her mouth, she sucks for long moments, eyes still glued on the security camera as if she’s imagining he’s watching. Her free hand comes up and cups her breast, fingers teasing her nipples as she plucks and whimpers.

Then, she pulls her hand from her mouth, wet fingers trailing across her abdomen before descending lower… lower…

She’s slow with herself, even though she can tell she’s impatient. No, it’s not that. She’s needy. For him. And here, he’d been in a fuckin’ work meeting about expenses, when she’d been here… with half-naked and wanting.

Goddamnit.

He watches her touch herself, and at a few more points, she looks up at the camera, and it feels like she’s looking right at him. The frustration and need in her expression are painfully evident.

Where are you?

Why aren’t you here with me?

I need you, Caleb.

She does whimper his name more than a few times, sweet supplication spilling from her lips as her fingers dip and slide. And when she comes, again his name tumbles forth, sounding so needy for him that he wants to punch himself for being late that night.

But now, he’s free. Caleb checks Emme’s socials and itinerary, and she’s at home too.

Good.

He’s out the door, panties still in hand, and halfway to her place before he realizes what he’s doing. Thank God the train is running on time tonight. When he finally gets to her door, he stands there for a moment, hand in his pocket, and tightly clenched around her underwear as he fights to control his rapidly beating heart.

He doesn’t want to scare her, but his need for her is so overwhelming it’s making him feel insanely reckless. He takes a breath, and then, another. Long moments pass. Finally, he presses the doorbell to her apartment and waits.

When the door opens, and her beautiful face comes into view, his name falls from her lips. “Caleb?”

And before he can stop himself, he’s got her wrapped up in his arms, quickly urging her legs around his middle as he lifts her. His power closes the door to her apartment, after which he presses her up against it tight.

She kisses him back, confused but gamely keeping up. She’s fearless, his girl. His hand comes up and threads into the length of her hair, and only then does she realize what’s prompted this encounter—her panties are dangling from his fingers.

“Oh,” she breathes against his mouth. “Did I forget something at your place?”

His eyes roll back, forehead resting against hers as he breathes, “You’re lucky I didn’t check the security feed while at work.”

She catches his gaze and holds it, dead serious as she admits, “I wanted you to. It would have gotten you home faster.”

“God, Pip-squeak.”

Her hands slowly caress his chest, as if soothing the beast inside of him, but her words make him ache. “Caleb…”

“Mmm?”

“I want more,” she says, shimmying against his middle. It’s only then that he realizes that she’s wrapped up in a bathrobe… and nothing else.

“What do you need, baby?”

She catches her lip between her teeth before softly admitting, “You. Me. In bed.”

“And then?”

His body feels as tightly coiled as a spring, and what she says next nearly has him launching off the wall.

“You. In. Me.”

And here, he’d thought he was the feral one. As her soft mound presses into his stomach, nails scraping along the line of his shirt only to dip beneath and tease his sternum, Caleb realizes that maybe he was the one who’d fallen into her trap.

His answering grin is fierce and supremely satisfied. “Happy to oblige.”

____

Emme is not entirely surprised when Caleb shows up at her apartment. She’s been waiting for this moment. Waiting and hoping.

Maybe he’s here to check in on me… she thinks, but the moment she opens the door, she knows he’s found her ‘gift’ for him. It doesn’t take him long before he’s trudging them both through her small home, furiously kicking off his shoes as he tries to make his way deeper into her living space.

A few times along the way, he pauses to press her into the wall and kiss her senseless.

Ahh… maybe I’ve pushed him too far this time…

Still, she can’t help but tease. “Did you like the video?”

“I loved it,” he drawls between hungry kisses. “I wish I’d checked it sooner.”

“I thought you always checked in on me while at work?”

“I do, and I did. But I checked earlier that day. Before you called.”

She pouts. “Too bad. Could have turned that meeting into something really interesting.”

His demeanor shifts a bit, and the expression on his face is anything but amused. “Would’a been real inconvenient for me.”

“Oh?”

“Hidin’ all those bodies after they saw you like that…”

“Caleb!”

He chuckles softly, but she gets it because she feels the same. Hell, she’s found herself wanting to claw the eyes out of any onlooker as they covetously stare at her Caleb. Now, there’ll be no going back. They’ll possess each other so completely that neither will even consider the thought that they aren’t meant to be together.

Forever.

And Emme thinks her plan is going swimmingly, at least, until Caleb softly curses and lets her slip from his waist.

“Shit.”

“What?”

He shakes his head and frowns. “Thought I had this all planned out, but I forgot something.”

“What?”

“Condoms.”

Emme lets out a short laugh. “Missing the forest for the trees, eh, flyboy?”

Caleb rubs a hand over his face and is halfway through apologizing for… everything and this, but Emme interrupts him.

“You might not be prepared,” she murmurs while sliding his hand over her forearm. “But I am.”

With his fingers beneath hers, she presses so he can feel the subdermal implant.

“Wha..?”

Rolling her eyes, she explains, “Look, I know things can be kind of weird between us because of… well. You know. Everything. But I thought it would be better to be prepared.”

“You’ve been planning on having sex with me?” he says, sounding shocked even though he’d come over to her place with the intention of having sex with her if she wanted to.

“God, Caleb. Are you telling me you just watched me finger myself on your security camera and then were wondering whether I’ve been thinking about having sex with you? Seriously? How is that even a question right now?”

Her cheeks are burning, but her annoyance blocks out any embarrassment. Of course, she’d been thinking about Caleb and sex. He’s eaten her out literally every single time they’ve been together, never mind all the other things he does—and he expects so little in return.

And she… well, she’s been wanting more. Wanting to experience what the thick length of him inside of her would feel like. She’s greedy and needy, wanting to see the way his eyes linger on her body, the flush in his cheeks, and the way his ears get red when he’s embarrassed… and aroused.

She’s wanted him for a long time, if she’s being honest, but wanting and acting are two separate things. Then, she’d gone to visit him in Skyhaven, and been extra amorous given the time of her cycle it happened to be, and now… he is here, desperate and horny. So, it might not have been the best plan in the world, but it did work.

Still, she’s incredulous as he says, “I kind of thought that maybe you were just pitying me.”

“Good God, Caleb. We’ve done nearly everything except have sex, willingly and quite enthusiastically on both our parts, and you thought… Look, you think I’m naïve and don’t understand the depth of your feelings for me, but it goes both ways. I’m not… I’m not good at expressing my emotions.” He snorts, and she glares. “Anger and annoyance don’t count. And that’s not… those aren’t the kind of feelings I’m talking about.”

“Tell me, Pip-squeak.”

Emme nibbles her lips and huffs softly. “Look, Caleb. You know I love you. I’ve always loved you, but when I lost you, I… It hurt me so bad that I wasn’t sure if I could go on… you know, living. It was a lot. And now… You’re my Caleb, and I want you in every way that I can have you.”

“Do you know what you’re saying?”

“You came all the way here to have sex with me, and now you’re questioning my resolve?”

“Emme,” he growls softly. “This isn’t a game.”

“I know that, Caleb! So stop being a dummy and listen to me because I’m telling you that I love you, and I want to spend the rest of… whatever with you. A hundred years, a thousand—forever and a day, if we can manage it.”

Caleb takes a breath, nose flaring a little. His jaw clenches, hands curling into fists at his sides, and for a moment, Emme thinks he looks confused.

I thought he’d be happy about this…

But then, his power reaches out, and in one breathless moment to the next, she’s being lifted, legs wrapping of their own accord around his middle. Dipping his head, Caleb presses his face into the length of her hair and breathes deep. She holds him back, just as tight, fingers gently soothing as he takes a moment to really come to understand what she’s saying, and what she needs.

“Pip-squeak,” he says, voice breaking some as his lips skim against her skin. “I’ve wanted you for so long, I just…”

“Mmm, I’ve always been yours,” she murmurs. “Yours, and only yours. So, give me what we both need.”

Caleb lets out a shaky breath before carrying her over to the bed. He uses his Evol to pull the sheets back, and he’s so careful with her as he sets her on the mattress. But she doesn’t want careful. She wants him. Badly.

“Caleb,” she softly calls his name while sliding back into the pillows as his eyes roam. “You don’t have to hold back anymore…”

“Ahh,” he groans, “that’s such a dangerous thing to say to a man like me.”

Her eyelids flutter, legs parting to give him better access as she murmurs, “I know you’d never hurt me. So… let’s go further.”

“How far?”

He wants her to be clear, so she indulges him. “I want all of you inside of me. Don’t stop… until we both feel it.”

He looks down, and for a moment, he almost looks sheepish. “What if I suck at this?”

“Oh, Caleb,” she says while reaching out to him. “You’re good at anything you put your mind to. You can be good for me, right?”

He pulls a shaky breath between parted, rough lips, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. She wants to follow that motion with her tongue, to thread her fingers into his thick hair and hold tight as he grinds his length against her, dig her nails into the muscles of his back to mark him as her own.

Caleb is so wrapped up in his own self-loathing that he has a hard time seeing the truth—that she is just as crazy in love with him as he is with her.

“Tell me… if you need me to stop.”

“What I need is for you to come here. Be with me. C’mon. We’ll do this together.”

Caleb edges closer to the bed, and though she’s already comfy in the pillows, Emme pushes herself up and out, and slides over to the edge so that she can peel the sweatpants from his hips.

“Did you wear these for me?” she teases.

Caleb shakes his head. “I was only half-sentient when I slipped my clothes on.”

“Because of the panties?”

“The panties, the surveillance footage. You.”

And maybe it’s a bit twisted, but it makes her heart beat faster in her chest, and her body tingle when he admits that he’s watched her. Of course, they always keep tabs on each other, so it wasn’t like she didn’t know he’d find out.

She’d wanted him to see her like that. Wanted to push him just a little further than they’d already gone, in hopes that she’d be able to get him to come to her. All she ever had to do was call and ask, and he’d answer—on the second ring—and be ready to do whatever she wanted.

But this was different from before. She wanted him to want her. Not because he felt obliged to do what she wanted, but because he wanted it, too.

He’s hard beneath the soft fabric of his pants. Her eyes trail over the bulge. She knows what he looks like, knows the feel of him against her palm and her body—but taking him inside of her? That’ll be new. Emme rolls her eyes up, eyelashes fluttering as she hooks her thumbs in the waistband of his pants and works them over his hips.

His dick bobs as it slips free. She bites her lips. There are so many things she wants to do right now, but at the top of the list is ‘Sex with Caleb,’ so that comes first. Still, she can’t stop herself from reaching out and gently cupping his sac before trailing her fingers over his length. Caleb stutter-steps out of his pants, cheeks and ears flushing as she catches him off guard.

Leaning back, she lets the housecoat fall open and slide away. It was a good thing he caught her after a shower; she’s ready for him. His shirt comes off next, and even though it’s certainly not the first time she’s seen him like this, she can’t help but think how good he looks.

Hell, sometimes when he’s doing laundry, he’ll walk around in nothing but a towel, the necklace she gave him, and a smile. But the look of him nude combined with the sultry look on her face is making her body achy with need. Emme bites her lip and stares, eyes traveling from the top of his dark head to his neck, his chest, his abdomen… and lower…

Every part of him looks good enough to eat, and he stands there and lets her look her fill. Finally, she slides back on her arms and smiles up at him.

“Come here.”

He does, that big body of his inching up onto her bed and covering hers completely. For a moment, they just hold each other and just enjoy the soft comfort of being together. But then, her fingers start to twitch, and his lips start to trail, and soon enough, his dark head is between her thighs.

He’s gotten ohh sooo good at this. Between the sweet sucking of his lips and the luscious licks from his tongue, coupled with the gentle thrusting of his fingers, he’s got her rolling before she even knows what’s what. But she finds it’s easy to lose herself when she’s with him. Even his mere scent drives her crazy, and when that combines with touch and soft words and ohhh the sweet tingle of his power as he holds her exactly where he wants her, how can she resist?

Finally, when he’s got her to the point that she nearly has to push him off because she’s so sensitized, his head pops up and he looks at her, lips gleaming as he obviously waits to be told what to do next. As if she knows!

“We’re gonna have to figure this out together,” she murmurs.

Caleb rubs his cheek on the inside of her thigh, lips turning into the soft flesh there as he gently kisses the hickey he left behind.

“Do you think you’re ready?”

“Are you?”

Caleb chokes. “God. I dunno. I think I’m gonna go insane.”

Good, she thinks. Then he is ready. Because she wants him so badly, she can hardly think straight. But still, this is new and a little scary, but it’s Caleb, so she knows it’ll be okay.

“Go slow?”

“Whatever you need,” he says while shifting his body between hers.

His dick juts up between them, and she understands why he’s feeling a bit crazy. He’s hard as hell, and the tip is leaking… Reaching down, she softly thumbs the top, which earns her a groan.

“Let’s… do this.” It’s kind of a ridiculous thing to say, but Caleb only chuckles and reaches up to cup her cheek.

“As fast or as slow as you need, got it?”

“Got it.”

And then, he’s lining himself up at her entrance, and the thick press of his crown against her opening is strange and Mmmm… good. He slides a little more in, and inch by inch, her warmth welcomes him in. He’s not… Ohhh… He’s not small, but he’s patient, and gentle, even though she can tell the effort to keep himself from thrusting is killing him.

Ahh… Ahh…

But somehow, she knows he even likes that part. For her, there’s no pain. He’s spent so much time building up to this moment that she’s ready for him. The memories of moments shared between them heighten her desires as well, never mind having Caleb—gloriously nude, straining, lip caught tight between teeth as he inches, inches, inches inside of her.

The moment almost doesn’t feel real. She’s imagined what it would be like to be with him like this for so long that she almost feels out of her mind now that it’s actually happening. And Caleb… God, Caleb… It’s almost like he’s stuck somewhere between heaven and hell.

She reaches up and holds his cheeks in her hands, forces him to stare into her eyes, and he looks so lost—helpless, out of control, needful—that it makes her clench. Caleb groans, body twisting and cheeks pressing into her palms.

“Baby…” he moans.

Maybe it’s because she’s a bit reckless, or maybe it’s because she’s a bit demanding, it’s definitely because she’s a bit of a brat, but Emme slowly resonates with Caleb to maintain a measure of control, powers mingling as their bodies rock together. Those combined feelings have them reeling. Her legs clamp down around his middle, his arms tuck in beneath her, around her, holding tight as he grinds and grinds and grinds.

When he finally bottoms out inside of her, his eyes roll back, his lip caught so tight between his teeth that she’s worried it might bleed. And still, she can’t help but laugh some as she stares at him, in this moment.

He’s her Caleb, and this is… sex. And it’s weird, and good, and scary, and hot, and just so much that it’s a little hard to believe it’s real. Caleb must notice her freaking out because he manages to reach up and gently cup her cheek.

“You okay, Em?” She nods, but he’s insistent. “Tell me.”

“I’m good, I’m just… it’s a little overwhelming. You ‘n me. This. All of it.”

“Does it feel bad?”

“Oh, no.”

His lip curls, eyebrow raising as he asks. “Does it feel… good?”

“Caleb!” she whines. “Don’t tease me.”

“Pip-squeak,” he sweetly croons. “You clenched so nicely when I asked that. If you’re not gonna be honest, your body is. So, tell me. Tell me everything. Or… I can find all the sensitive spots on your body and get your secrets anyway. Your choice.”

She pouts, but when he gives her a teasing thrust, she knows he’s not joking. Finally, she admits, “It just feels like I’ve been waiting forever for this.”

“And now that forever is now?”

“It’s so good, Caleb. You are so good, I just…”

“What?”

“I want more, and I’m afraid of getting it.”

“Why?”

“What if I ruin everything?”

“Not possible.”

“How?”

Caleb softly presses his nose into the line of her throat before dipping his head, lips tracing over skin, before he softly sucks a pert nipple into his mouth. That has Emme squirming, fingers digging into his hair as his hips restlessly stir below.

“I’ve made it my life’s work to give you everything that you want. So, this will be no different. You can’t ruin anything because you’re already perfect—we’re already perfect. We were made for this moment. It just… took us a while to get here. And now…”

“And now…?” she softly gasps as he thrusts, this time a little harder.

“Now, we get to see what we’ve been missing out on. And God, baby, there’s so much I wanna do with you… and to you.”

Just like that, Caleb’s got her out of her head and into the moment. It’s Caleb. Her Caleb. Always has been, always will be. She takes a breath, relaxes, and luxuriates in the strangely sweet feel of him inside of her, before curling her legs around his while angling her hips.

“More?”

“Please.”

He’s never been able to resist any one of her requests before, and it’s no different now. Except now, she gets to enjoy the hot-hard feel of him inside and atop her. He’s so responsive to her, moves so patiently, so purposefully, that soon enough, her head is lolling against the sheets as he increases the pace.

Caleb’s so broad and beautiful atop her, body so giving, lips against hers, tongue seeking, swirling, sucking, as he kisses her until she’s breathlessly moaning into his mouth. But he’s not done with her, not even close.

Slowly, his power crawls along the line of her back, curving her just so. Caleb’s always made her feel like she can fly, and right now is no exception. He’s slow and patient as he fucks her, eyes darting over her face, the curve of her neck, the sweet swell of her breasts, watching, watching, watching as if he’s afraid that at any moment she’ll disappear from this bed.

She’s just as possessive of him as he is of her, and at this moment, she wants all of him—the hurt, the pain, the pleasure, the release, the insanity of everything that they mean to each other—all of it and all of him.

Her hand threads into his shaggy hair, fingers pulling just a touch as she softly whines, “Caleb… Harder.”

He chokes, body stuttering. His lips part, and he breathes out with a sound that’s more like a whimper than a moan.The look on his face makes her worry she’s broken him.

His face rubs against her wrist, words halting as he says, “Is that an order…?”

“Do I have the authority to command you?”

“Mmm… absolutely.”

“Then yes, it’s an order.”

Caleb lets out a soft laugh. That is all the warning she gets before his power swells, and Emme quickly finds herself on top with Caleb spread out beneath her. He looks like an offering to a heathen god, arms stretched high above his head, skin flushed, muscles flexed, and chest heaving.

Now, it’s her turn to whimper, not only from the sight before her but because of the thick, tight feel of him inside of her. She can go as fast or as slow, as hard or as soft as she wants. And Caleb… he can take it. For her, he’d do it. He’d do anything.

“Take what you need…” he purrs. “And I’ll match you from below.”

After taking a breath for courage, she shifts her hips and quickly finds that not only is this insanely pleasurable, but being in control heightens her desire. Her fingers curl against the tight muscles of his abdomen, body canting as she rocks.

Eventually, Caleb’s hands guide her hips upward, so she’s well and truly bouncing on him now. And as she falls… Ohhhh… his hips thrust, and he rises to meet her, pressing so deep, tight, and perfect that it feels like she’s gonna come apart just like this.

But when his warm fingers slide over her hip and down the inside of her thigh, quickly teasing between her soaked folds to find that sensitive bud within, then she well and truly loses herself. As Caleb watches, as his fingers roll between her legs, as he thrusts—fast and hard—from below, she nears her peak, and it’s… Oh, God! It’s…

“Caleb,” his name falls from her lips, begging, pleading for him to help her, to give her what she needs. And he does. He always gives her exactly what she needs.

Finally, her orgasm hits, completely inelegant and overwhelming. Waves of pleasure radiate from her core outwards, seductive tendrils flowing through her body, making her clench, grind, and moan. Caleb grunts softly, brow furrowing some as if he’s holding himself back.

He wants to watch her as she comes with him inside her. She knows he doesn’t want to miss a second, but she needs the same from him, and even before her body’s completely finished its release, she’s moving, grinding slow and hard, as she pushes him higher.

Caleb groans, hands slipping to her hips as he rucks up into her, chest heaving as he pants. He looks frantic, eyes darting everywhere—her eyes, the flushed tips of her breasts, between her legs where they’re joined so intimately.

She runs her nails over his chest, faint lines marking his pale chest as he whimpers. She thinks he must be close. He looks… almost lost, but his body is fire-hot, and he’s so hard and thick inside of her that he’s almost too much to take.

Caleb lets out a shaky breath, cool fingers trailing over her skin before pressing low on her stomach. She pouts prettily as he teases her, body shimmying as he finally asks, “Can I… inside you?”

Her eyelids flutter, her body twisting in response to his sweet erotic entreat, and she can’t help but tease him. “Can you what, inside me?”

Caleb groans, fingers digging into her hips as he pants. “Come. I need to come.”

“Inside me?” she whimpers, breathless with her anticipation.

“God, yes. Please.”

Her head rolls back. It shouldn’t turn her on so much to hear him beg, but it does… God, does it ever. To tease them both, Emme shimmies atop Caleb, pressing him so tight and deep that they groan in unison.

He gasps her name, throat tight as his head rolls back. She loves that.

“Caleb… use me.”

“Wh-at? How?” he asks, breathless, needy, and edging closer and closer to his release. And she’ll give it to him, but only if he gives her what she wants first.

“Use your Evol.”

“My Evol?” he sputters.

She gives him a look. “Don’t pretend like you’ve never thought about what it would be like. I’ve thought about what it would be like.”

Caleb swallows thickly. “I won’t last.”

“I don’t want you to. All I want is for you to give me what I want and take what you need.”

His eyes are dark, heavy-lidded, and almost haunted as he stares up at her, as thunderstruck as if he’s beholding a goddess. And then… his power softly swirls against her skin, as light as a feather before it wraps around her tight.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

He guides her, looking so beside himself that she almost feels bad, at least, until his wrist flicks and he drags her up until only the thick tip of him is pressing against her opening. One breath, one impossibly long pause, one needful moment stretches between them, until he lets her drop.

She groans as his length is quickly sheathed inside of her, her body canting forward before she can completely catch herself.

“Caleb,” she gasps his name.

He’s got her close again. So close that she can feel the pleasure tingling at the small of her back, in the tips of her nipples, in the sweet space between her thighs that he’s pressing up against—so hot, so hard, so tight.

With his cool hand possessively gripping the back of her neck, and her fingers curled into the tight muscles of his abdomen, Emme throws her head back, rolls her hips, and bounces hard on his length. In and out. In and out. In and out. She loses herself in a rhythm that’s just for the two of them.

It’s exactly what they want, and as she presses down hard, he rolls his hips to meet her, and it’s so much more than enough.

“Ahh… Caleb!”

“Baby…!”

Caleb moans and his hands clutch desperately at her as he pulls, holding her tight as he rolls his hips, grinding into her and enhancing the moment for them both. And with their bodies connected, and their powers blended, everything narrows to a point… before breathlessly expanding. Nothing remains but the wet-hot feel of their pleasure.

Finally, soft moans escape them in unison as the pleasure slowly subsides. Emme dips close, forehead pressing against his as they pant hard. His eyes are closed, brow furrowed. A tear escapes from behind his lashes, dripping along his cheek as she watches, half-dazed and entirely entranced.

“God.” His voice sounds choked, and Emme’s heart clenches, fingers softly brushing away his tears, even though he’s still half-hard inside of her.

“Are… you okay?” Maybe she hurt him? She did kind of lose herself at the end there…

Caleb chokes out a laugh. “I just… am having a hard time believing this is real, Pip-squeak.”

“Oh.”

Decades of knowing each other better than anyone else. Years and years of heartache, of wanting, of almosts and not quites. Now, they’re as close as two people can be and she feels… she feels… so weightless. So free. So right.

So, she tells him that. Tells him that she never wants to lose this—to lose him. Tells him everything she’s ever been too afraid to say, and then tells him how much she loves him, how painfully.

“It hurts, you know. To love someone this much. I think… I’ve always been afraid that I could lose you. And then, I did lose you.”

“Mmm,” he softly breathes. “I’m here now.”

“Forever?”

“No matter what happens, I’ll always find my way back to you.”

“Good,” she comments softly while resting her head on his chest. The sound of his still-frantic heartbeat fills her heart, soothing her as she continues, “You’re mine. You can only leave me if you have my say so, and you never will.”

She can feel Caleb’s shaky breath against her cheek. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

Caleb urges her head up and back so she’s staring him straight in the eye. “Are you mine?”

“Caleb,” she replies, voice chiding. “You’re still inside me.”

“And?”

“And, what? If this isn’t a big deal to you, maybe I should wonder about how many times you’ve done this with other girls. I guess, you didn’t always call me to play the girlfriend, after all?”

He frowns, and quick as a flash, he’s got her on her back. He presses in, body hardening in response to the movement or maybe the way he’s got her splayed, arms above her head, hair spilled across the sheets, hips subtly shifting beneath him.

“There’s no one else in the world that I’ve ever wanted. No one I’d ever want to do this with other than you.”

“Then you need to hear me say it?” she asks while arcing her back, body shimmying back into his soft thrust.

“So badly.”

So needy… she thinks, but she doesn’t mind. She’s just the same, but part of her heart will always want to tease him, just a little. He’s her Caleb. She doesn’t want things to change completely, she just wants more and more and more. Her greedy heart asking for everything and still expecting more.

His eyes flutter, body rocking as his length hardens anew. It would be so easy to get distracted, but she’s not gonna chicken out now.

“I’ve loved you since the first moment we met when were kids. You’ve always been mine, and I’ve always been yours. For me, it’s always been you. Always and forever.”

His eyes close and he grins. Emme thinks she’s never seen him look quite so happy before, nor so free.

“Good. I think… I couldn’t handle it if it were any other way.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry because we belong to each other now and… ahh…”Her words trail off as Caleb’s body shifts, distracting her as he stirs within.

“I missed my evening workout,” he drawls.

Emme twists her hips, back arching as she purrs, “Well, get to it, then. Can’t have you slacking off now.”

“That a challenge, Pip-squeak?”

“Of course.”

His lip curls into a smug smile. “Well, let’s see who laughin’ by the end of this.”

And Emme, well, she’s not laughing. Screaming, crying out his name, begging for more? Yeah, that’s pretty much exactly it. By the time they’re finished with each other, limbs entangled, bodies hot, slick with sweat and desire, she’s well and truly tired.

“Feels like every single muscle in my body is sore.”

“You askin’ for a massage?”

“Mmm, a shower. Then sleep.”

“And then…?”

“You’re not slacking off, are you, Caleb?”

A soft laugh rolls up from his chest. “You’re so greedy,” he murmurs, hand tracing a path down her neck, over the soft curve of her breast before pressing low on her abdomen. “Especially here.”

She whimpers softly, and it’s almost as if she can still feel him inside of her, the phantom press of his thick length as he possesses her completely.

“Stop complaining.”

He shakes his head, damp tendrils sticking against his brow as he murmurs, “We both know, I’ll always give you everything that you want. So, shower first, Pip-squeak.”

“And then?”

“Once I’ve got you cleaned up,” he says, fingers skimming along the slick line of her sex. “I’ll get you messy all over again.”

If she wasn’t so damn tired, she’d have hoped right back on him and gotten him just as messy, but he’d loved her so completely, that Emme wasn’t certain she’d be able to walk, let alone ride him. But later… later… she’d have him. And he’d have her.

And he’d fill the needy spaces of her heart, just as she’d fill his, and together, they’d become whole—again and again, as many times as needed, for a hundred years, a thousand… forever and a day.

Author’s Notes:

HAHAHA I want to be clear that I got the idea before this BEFORE I saw Caleb’s new card, but now I’m smug about it because it’s actually IC for him to have security footage of her lmao. ANYWAY. This is loosely based son some great fan art I saw that has caleb mcfuckin loosing it at the laundry mat when he finds some sexy red panties. God bless fan artists, fr fr. Also, I am very certain I’m not the first nor I hope the last to write ‘Caleb is a panty sniffer’ fic but LMAO. I couldn’t stop myself. I MEAN THAT LITERALLY fingers just go go go of their own accord.

This is paraphrased from some in-game dialogue:

His face rubs against her wrist, words halting as he says, “Is that an order…?”

“Do I have the authority to command you?”

“Mmm… absolutely.”

“Then yes, it’s an order.”

This kind of skips around, not that I’m writing rationally here (literally just writing what I feel like I need to write to keep myself from going insane haha), but I still have some more planned for these two. Things are probably gonna get a lot busier, but I’ll see what I can fit in. Thanks so much for all of your support and for being so kind. Any mistakes are there because I need to keep humble lol.

Banner courtesy of cafekitsune!

[blackdollette]

"i fell for another loser." | spencer reid

in my feelings. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: it didn't take a genius to detect when something was wrong with spencer...

fill out the taglist form! : @thirtyratsinasuit @auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @sleepysongbirdsings @pleasantwitchgarden @emma-e-a @bellasprettywords

⊹₊⋆ pairing: bau!female!reader x spencer

⊹₊⋆ word count: 651

⊹₊⋆ contents: nervous spencer, slight tension, a little fluff

you quietly placed a hot, coffee-filled cup beside the two empty ones on spencer’s desk, the slight click sound it made as it hit the hardwood making his head jerk up. this was the third time he has dozed off like this, and it was only 11 in the morning.

he rubbed his eyes, his hair falling in disheveled tufts over his face as you leaned against his desk. 

“thanks… again.”

you nodded. “anytime.”

he picked up the cup, looking up at you. “blonde espresso with two teaspoons of sugar, right?”

you rolled your eyes. “this is my third delivery of the day. i even opted adding a quart of sugar.”

he mustered a little laugh, taking a long sip with a deep sigh, leaning back in his chair as he set the cup back down, starting to fidget with his thumbs like a nervous child. you were still standing there, confused at his unkempt disposition.

“something keeping you up at night, spence? i’ve never seen you this… disordered before.”

he locked eyes with you, hastily trying to fix his hair as he shook his head. “n-no, i’ve just…” he hesitated. “it’s nothing.”

your mouth nearly curled into an amused smile. on a normal day, you wouldn’t even need to ask spencer before he began telling you all the things he dreamt of and all the ways he would spend his evening. you wanted to pry, but didn’t want to strain him any further.

“well, you know where i am if you wanna talk.”

you smiled and gave him a half wave, heading to the exit door of his office. as you began to turn the handle, he blurted out quickly. “do you have any idea why i can’t get a date?”

you turned around slowly, raising an eyebrow. “maybe because i’ve never seen you ask a girl out, casanova.”

his cheeks flushed a little as his head angled downward, staring intensely at the ground. the realization suddenly hit you like a freight train.

“oh… is that what’s been keeping you up at night? you… like a girl..?”

spencer swallowed hard, nodding just a little. “i guess you could put it that way.”

you two fell silent for a moment, spencer not even being able to look you in the eye. he was blushing like an embarrassed school boy and could barely formulate a single sentence. 

you cleared your throat to break the silence. 

“so… you got any plans for her?”

spencer nodded, shuffling around a few papers on his desk. “y-yeah. i got her and i tickets to a ball game, reservations to her favourite restaurant, and… i was gonna ask her to be my girlfriend.”

your heart would’ve warmed up if the lump growing in your throat hadn’t appeared first. “wow, it looks like you’ve got the whole night planned.” it was your turn to fidget with your thumbs. “i-is she pretty..?”

spencer finally loosens up at that question, a full smile breaking out on his face. “that doesn’t begin to cover it.”

you nodded, feeling a stab of insecurity in your chest, but you masked it with an endearing smile. “well to the looks of it, you’ve got a plan, you’ve set everything up, and it seems that you really like her. so go ahead and ask. i promise that no girl could ever say no to you. and if she does, you’re way out of her league.”

spencer’s eyes grew a little misty, along with yours. your hand fell to the door handle once again, turning it slowly.

“good luck, spence…”

god, that nickname, the one that no one else in the world ever used. the butterflies in spencer’s stomach had increased significantly. he knew that it was now or never.

his voice coming out shakier than ever stopped you in your tracks as you began to leave the room.

“so, uh, a-are you free this saturday..?”

author's note: ugh.

[csprint]

Can you write SVT members you think would jump in a fight with/for you? Who’s getting their ass beat and who’s not helping?!

Thx.

kookinglikeachef: With all of the bickering and unserious fighting they do, I expect them to turn into MMA fighters for you. This is all jokes!!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Definitely jumping in:

Seungcheol

Is always ready to square up when it comes to you. Will not let anyone lay a single fingernail on you. In fact, you can’t even help. He’d shut your ass up and tell you to go somewhere while he handled the mf trying to put hands on his baby.

Joshua

Looks pretty and soft but he’s stomping bitches into the dust for you. K.O.’s left and right. Will not hesitate to fuck someone up. He’s a little unhinged.

Woozi

TRUST. HE IS DOGGING ANY AND EVERYBODY TRYING TO STEP TO YOU. Height is nothing cause at any time of the muthafkng day he’s never letting these heaux forget. PLAYTIME BEEN TF OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Getting your shit rocked together:

Jeonghan

Girl.. he brought his emotional support sword to the fight. Endearing but just take your L.

Jun

If he sees you losing, he’s going in like he Bruce Lee. Gives you a little advantage to get your two piece combo in. Both still walking away a little banged up but the aftercare and nursing each other’s wounds would be so good!

Hoshi

Makes sure you don’t get snuck. Ready to go to war to defend you when your hair is getting pulled and in return he’s getting flamed up as well. Tries to save your hair extensions and you’re both laughing about the situation afterwards.

Seungkwan

He’s probably the reason you’re in a fight because he looked at someone the wrong way. His strength is verbal (talking shit). I’m sorry but both of you got busted up.

Crying, shaking, and throwing up:

Dokyeom

Running around trying to stop people recording. Tries to calm you down but can’t even calm himself. So flustered and afraid you might hit him as well.

Mingyu

Pathetically on his knees begging you to stop. He doesn’t like when you’re angry and is trying to control his anger at the same time. Eventually grabs you and throws you over his shoulder as you continue to cuss the other person out.

Dino

Whether you’re beating ass or getting folded like an omelette, the fight has ruined him. He’s got nothing left. He’s drained. Mentally, emotionally, and dehydrated from crying. There aren't any words. His hands are fucking shaking. He needs to lie down.

Not helping at all:

Wonwoo

Does not know what to do. Wondering if he should break up the fight but you’re handling your own. Would be too worried about you to ask why you were fighting in the first place. Takes care of any wounds you may have gotten.

Minghao

Please. Why are you embarrassing him?! Yes, he can wreck bitches but you’re being scowled at right now. He might just beat your ass when you finishing whooping the other person. Takes you home to meditate all that negativity away.

Vernon

Genuinely has no idea what’s going on. He’s just watching and recording in amusement. Every five seconds he’s yelling: “oh shit” when you get smacked up. Doesn’t realize it’s you who’s fighting until he tries calling you to tell you all about it and the ringing is coming from the person in a headlock. Immediately jumps in to pull you away and hides your face from anyone else who might be recording to save you from further embarrassment. You’re also very pissed at him, btw.

[emotionalmessss]

Hiii! Can I request yandere Chrollo when reader tries to escape? Hc? Fic? If you want 🥰

A/N: I feel like I haven't written anything in so long (school is going to be the death of me I swear). I'm trying to be more active with my writing now that I've officially graduated, I'm sorry for ghosting! Anyways, enjoy Yan!Chrollo :)

Warnings: yandere themes, unhealthy/forced relationship, implied kidnapping, slight mention of violence and non-consensual touching, and psychological abuse. Chrollo is basically a warning himself lol.

Chrollo is always one step ahead. After all, he is the head of the Spider, so if you think you can escape from him--good fucking luck. He is cunning, meticulous, and devoted to having you back where you belong--in his arms. But that doesn't stop you from trying, does it?

Congratulations for managing to slip through his fingers, but it won't stay that way for long. There is nowhere in the world for you to hide from Chrollo, he will hunt you down using whatever means that will ensure his success. So, enjoy the freedom while it lasts, because it won't last very long.

Sure, Chrollo might be slightly ruffled at the fact that you actually managed to escape. But will he let that affect his calm composure? No, definitely not. Chrollo plays the long game, and he does it best. And who's to say that he didn't intentionally let you escape? To give you that brief, sweet taste of freedom, only to rip it away at the last second?

Chrollo’s expression remains impassive as he lounges on the plush couch in the middle of his expansive living room. Reclining comfortably into the cushions, he folds one leg over the other while using one hand to flip through the book in his lap. He is perfectly aware of your absence from the apartment--how could he not notice when the air lacks the usual animosity that only you can bring? 

Despite the apartment lacking its usual vibrancy, Chrollo remains calm and composed, a trait that has always irked you. His composure never slips, even now. He finds it pitifully endearing that you thought you could outsmart him--have you learned nothing? Chrollo doesn’t know if he wants to praise you for your bravery or laugh at your naivety. 

Sighing, he stretches his legs out across the coffee table, idly smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles on his dress shirt. You thought escape was an option? How quaint. His lips curl into a faint, knowing smirk; his predictions had been correct--like always. While Chrollo can’t deny that he finds your actions mildly irritating, they are more entertaining than anything else--not that he’d ever show it.

“It’s intriguing, really, how you thought you could just slip away from me,” Chrollo mutters to himself, his voice measured and almost serene. His big, gray eyes finally look up from the antique book in his lap, drifting towards the large window that offers a view of Yorknew City’s skyline. Somewhere out there, you’re hiding, and he can clearly picture the mixture of relief, fear, and paranoia etched on your pretty face. 

He taps his fingers on the armrest of the couch--the only sign that his mind is working in overdrive. Clicking his tongue thoughtfully, Chrollo tilts his head back down to the book resting on his thighs. Running a hand through his raven locks, he lets out a hollow chuckle, quickly followed by a deep sigh. For now, he’d let you play your little game, but in the end, you would not win.

Just like everything else, Chrollo's response will be chilling and methodical. As the head of the Spider, he'll use all the resources he has to get his love back. But for the time being, he will let you enjoy your little game. He's more than confident you'll be back where you belong. Make sure to keep looking over your shoulder every so often, he won't be far behind.

Chrollo will have you back in his grasp, no matter how much you kick, cry, and scream. He will remain unflinchingly composed, acting as though you were merely a small animal that needed to be handled with gentle care. The entire time, he'll have that small, almost invisible smile tugging at his lips--that smile that you've come to hate and suggests bad things for you.

Once he finds you--if he hasn't already been watching you the entire time--he'll strike when the time is right, and when the circumstances align in his favour. He won't be openly aggressive, definitely not towards you. Chrollo will take a different route, one that involves planning, scheming, and manipulation.

Consequences? Oh, there has to be some consequences for your disobedience. But, Chrollo would never lay a violent hand on you. No, that's not his style. He could never physically hurt his love. He can hurt you in other ways, though. Friends and family? That's a whole other story. Chrollo being Chrollo, will do whatever it takes to ensure you comply. Only if he's pushed to that point.

In Chrollo's twisted mind, he is protecting you from the dangers of the world--like a good lover should. He firmly believes that the only place for you to be happy and safe is by his side. He'll manipulate you into believing that you need him, and that even the thought of escaping is utterly impossible.

You’ve been sprinting through the empty streets of Yorknew City for hours, and no matter how far you run, you can’t seem to shake the terror that threatens to swallow you whole. At this point, your feet sting, your lungs burn, and your mind is a jumbled fucking mess--is this what insanity feels like or has Chrollo corrupted you so much? Neither of those reasonings are favourable, but you’d probably choose insanity over Chrollo. 

Frantically, you examine your surroundings as you come to a stop, panting and keeling over. You sluggishly move towards the corner of a large building, slumping back against the bricks and wipe the glistening sweat from your forehead. This is Hell, isn’t it? Clutching your chest, your mind races with a slew of possibilities; different escape routes, places to hide, and potential consequences should you get caught. 

What would the reincarnation of the Devil himself do to you if he were to catch you? Would he hurt you? The odds of Chrollo physically hurting you are slim, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t harm you in other ways. Despite spending an unwilling amount of time with him, you could never fully understand the bastard. You weren’t entirely sure if that was a blessing or a curse. 

“Get it together, fuck.” Your voice comes out strained and raspy as you forcefully compose yourself, shoving off from the wall to round the corner of the building. Every detail about that man pisses you off--his calculated mannerisms, his unflinching composure, his studying eyes that make you feel like he’s staring into your soul, and that god-awful smile that never looked genuine. 

Just when you soothe your chaotic mind and turn the corner of the building, he appears before you. Your heart plummets, and your feet drag across the pavement as you abruptly halt, completely paralyzed under his scrutinizing gaze. You watch him like a cornered animal, prepared to flee at the slightest sign of malice. But, of course, there is none--perfectly expected from a man like Chrollo. 

“My dear,” Chrollo begins, using the endearing nickname you’ve come to loathe. His voice completely devoid of aggression, showing no hint of the manipulative thoughts that are definitely running through his mind. “Wandering the streets alone at this hour isn’t wise,” he chides gently, his tone tinged with condescension. “Come now, let’s get you back home.” His hand extends towards you, as if he’s giving you a choice. 

You muster up a sliver of self-control, refraining from cussing him out. Instead, you take a cautious step backwards--away from the beast. Noticing this, Chrollo’s lips pull into a slight smile, and his hand returns to his side. He doesn’t move an inch, letting out a resigned sigh that suggests he had anticipated this outcome. His gray eyes never leave yours as the sound of approaching footsteps begins fill the silent street. 

“Please, let’s not make this more difficult than it needs to be,” Chrollo continues, his attention focused on you, purposely feigning ignorance of his loyal Spiders who are slowly encircling both of you. He remains the epitome of calm, acting as if your escape attempt was just a minor inconvenience. You stand still, and the Spiders close in, strategically blocking off all paths except for the one leading to Chrollo. 

[shunsuiken]

HOW THE GENSHIN MEN FIND YOU DRUNK

pairing(s). kaeya, diluc, zhongli, childe, ayato, thoma, tighnari, kaveh, wanderer x gn!reader

genre. fluff + mentions of alcohol use ofc + reader is a lightweight (welcome to my life guys <3)

wc. 400-800 for each character

an. SOOOOO this was inspired by a cdrama i watched back in 2021 and when i saw it i just HAD to write about it <3 also i think i had a bit too much fun on zhongli’s and childe’s i hope its not so obvious dear god. also??? for some reason the ones i had the hardest time writing for ended up being the longer parts omg

kaeya alberich

after spending some time upstairs with a couple of treasure hoarders who were completely unaware of being thoroughly deceived by the cunning cavalry captain, kaeya decides to head down and run over the knowledge he collected with mond’s famed beverage, death after noon.

but as he walks down the staircase, he spots a familiar figure sitting by the bar. he squints his eye slightly, almost not believing the sight in front of him. is that y/n? on the high stool by the bar? dozing off to only a few shots of liquor? tonight just became even more interesting. now he’s starting to wonder what things you would say under the influence—for no shady reasons, obviously, as he genuinely enjoyed your company and witiful mouth. he’s just a curious man with the goal of unveiling a few other things about you.

he makes a beeline to the bar, setting himself on your right side so you’re in his line of vision. glancing around, he motions for charles for his death after noon. kaeya only turns to you once his drink arrives, quickly giving you a once over. seeing as how it looked like you came to angel’s share after work he might as well stir up a conversation.

your vision is blurry but you can definitely feel the presence of another person beside you. as you lift your head from your crossed arms, your brows crease in irritation. which imbecile decided to disturb your time alone? you’re literally brooding over the fact that captain kaeya would never be yours, so you irresponsibly decided an hour ago that some liquor would magically help you forget your worries.

you’re ready to scare the person off with a glare but what you’re met with is quite literally, much worse (because your glares don’t work on him and also because he's part of the reason you’re in your drunken state).

kaeya chuckles at your expression. “why the long face? it’s just me.”

you rub your eyes, groaning from the bitterness lingering in your throat. of all people, you weren’t expecting him. “you never stop by on wednesday’s. is something up?” you ask drowsily as kaeya watches you pick up your glass, clumsily squinting at the bottom of it to see if there was any more of your liquor left.

kaeya dodges your question, humming, “y/n sweetheart, you look like you’re on the brink of passing out.” he tilts his head, observing your flushed expression. if you can’t handle your liquor, he doesn’t mind taking you back home if it means securing your safety.

“am not,” you reply, turning your gaze to him. it’s all thanks to the alcohol that you can do so when in reality you actually struggle to maintain eye contact with him. “you… you haven’t answered my question yet. why’re you here?” your voice is hoarse and you’ve made enough voice cracks to entertain a crowd, but kaeya finds it rather endearing instead.

kaeya could reply honestly. but this conversation is one to be forgotten after you woke up tomorrow morning. he could lie and you would never know he did, but for a reason unknown the lie he was supposed to tell never left his lips. instead he blurts out the plain truth.

“somebody has to be responsible for you, y’know,” kaeya teases you with a grin but his actions are the opposite of his tone. he stands from his seat, pulling your arm over his shoulders to support your weight even when you attempt to resist his help. he keeps your body close to his so you don’t fall over. hopefully you’re drunk enough to be oblivious of the erratic beats of his heart alongside the cautious and warm touch of his hand on your waist.

diluc ragnvindr

he still can’t believe he has such a massive crush on you. it’s almost embarrassing to let others know about this secret because nobody would expect someone like diluc to have a thing for you. it’s even harder to hide that fact when you’re sitting at a table with venti and kaeya. they’re laughing their asses off at some joke you told them.

“cheers to y/n!” venti hollers, cheeks undeniably pink. “you are paying for this, right?” he leans back down momentarily, making you release another burst of laughter from your lungs at the way he mentioned it. “of course!”

after chatting, you decide to greet the man of the house by the bar. it’s been a while since you’ve seen the master diluc of dawn winery anyway. as you get up from the table to make your way over, you accidentally bump into a crowd of big, brawny adventurers who’ve just arrived.

“oh—!” tripping backwards, your hands fail to find something to keep yourself on your feet before your fall is cushioned by someone.

they hold onto your shoulder as your back collides with their chest. the force from being pushed aside has you breathing unsteadily, and it doesn’t help that you’re pretty tipsy right now too. however, despite how tipsy you are, you feel as though air is sucked right out of your lungs when you spot a tuft of crimson red hair from the corner of your eye.

you stand right up immediately, facing the person you fell onto.

“master diluc!” the dazed and naive look on a drunkard's face normally doesn’t appeal to diluc but this expression on yours actually makes you look rather adorable. your eyes are half-lidded and your smile is lopsided, and oh if he could squish those cheeks of yours-

“uh, master diluc?” you blink, toning your voice down a bit.

“oh.” diluc slides out of his mindscape, paying attention to your words. “yes? would you like a drink on the house?” because if you actually asked that, he would have sent one your way on the spot.

you wave your hands dismissively. “n- no no, not that! i was just asking how you were doing. you haven’t stopped by angel’s share since last month, i thought something was up so when i heard you were here today i…” you trail off, realising that you’re rambling and that diluc probably didn’t want to be greeted like this after taking a month off but when you look back at him, he’s still looking at you (and has been since you fell into his arms).

diluc raises his brow when he no longer hears your voice. but when he sees an expectant look in your eyes, he offers you his arm with a smile. “how about you tell me everything by the bar? that way i can serve you properly.”

your cheeks burn like a wild bonfire as you take his arm, now struggling to find excuses to somehow change the topic of conversation because if you continued your sentence from a minute ago, you would have exposed your secret attraction for the man in front of you.

(funny how you don’t even need kaeya or venti to expose you, you’re already the man for the job!)

diluc senses your sudden nervousness at the invitation. he does his best to bite away at the fond smile making its way to his lips. if he can help calm your nerves then maybe you’ll tell him about how much you missed his company at the tavern.

zhongli

zhongli didn’t know that his late night stroll around the streets of chihu rock would include witnessing your drunk state at third-round knockout. the streets have thinned out and it’s rather late too. he wonders what brought you over to the distinguished tavern.

the curious adeptus makes silent haste to peer over your shoulder. a cup in your hand and your head is lolling over. putting two and two together, you must have had your fill of alcohol for tonight.

zhongli finds himself chuckling before neatly folding his hands behind his back. “i wonder how y/n is faring on this wonderful night?”

your head snaps out of your drunken state momentarily, the coherent cells in your brain recognise that voice immediately but your vision is blurry. so instead of being able to greet the gentleman with dignity and grace, you end up tripping over the levelled bricks below you. 

“oh—!”

zhongli is quick to open his arms and catch you, his reflexes still polished despite his retirement as the geo archon. your head bumps into his chest as you grunt at the slight fright. and after regaining your foothold on the bricked ground, it comes to your attention that your body is flat against the man in front of you. more specifically, his arms are wrapped around your waist to keep you steady and your hands are fumbling awkwardly in the air because you don’t know where to put them.

looking up to meet zhongli’s eyes is exactly what you expected but you can never maintain eye contact with him. it’s not your fault he’s so handsome! his kind gesture makes your cheeks warm up, and he probably doesn’t even mean anything out of it but sometimes your mind likes to be a little creative and indulges you in a variety of impossible scenarios.

“archons, zhongli i’m sorry—i didn’t see you i—” 

“it’s not a problem, y/n. shall i walk you home?” zhongli offers, voice gentle and non-judgemental, like you didn’t just trip over a couple of bricks.

you shake your head, earning a raised brow from him. “i only live a few minutes away. plus, look at the time, we’ll look weird.”

“holding you in my arms will not make us look weird, rather i believe this is appropriate for us both. don’t you think?” the way zhongli tilts his head to the dominating tone in his voice makes you feel so small.

“i mean—sure but,” you reply, not daring to look directly into his eyes unless you were going to expose your hidden feelings for him. “but i’m drunk. it’s my fault, i can take myself ho—” your words are caught in your throat when zhongli lifts you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style down the steps and continuing down the street to bring you home.

this extra pinch of boldness is something that lays dormant within zhongli. but it always comes alive when you’re around. he has spent enough time around mortals to pick up the signs of the heart. your reactions to his touch, your flickering gaze and the heat from your face is no brainer. however, he will have to properly communicate with you when you’re sober.

for now, he only hopes that you will disregard the warmth radiating off his neck when you lean in to rest your forehead there.

childe

he’s dancing. dancing to his heart’s content. the band plays the second to last song but the harbinger barely feels like he’s lived up to the heights of the night. he requires more vigour, more energy from his dancing partners. sure, they were all wonderful dancers but he’s really only waiting for someone else to enter his field of vision.

childe knows you’re around here somewhere, you told him personally a week before the ball that you and your father were invited. after all, only the most distinguished noblemen and women were eligible to attend. and you, being the one and only child of one of the leading snezhnayan trade merchants, are an obvious guest on the list of invites.

childe dances, switching and gliding between different and eager dance partners, secretly hoping that the next gloved hand he would take would be yours. unfortunately, for the second to last song, he still doesn’t manage to find you amongst the crowd of participants dancing. so when the music stops he makes sure to return everyone a wave and entertain those who greet him warmly, doing everything in his power to stop the itch of impatience showing on his sweaty face. thankfully, he manages to maintain a calm and composed expression.

childe’s head perks up to a certain sound. amongst the music, the cheers and the clings of wine glasses he recognises a laugh. a laugh, to the extent of his knowledge, only he’s able to get out of you. he brings his wine glass away from his lips, licking the remnants of it from his bottom lip as he captures the sight of you chatting away with other guests.

scanning the guests’ faces, he concludes that they’re harmless thanks to information he was told prior to the event. so he makes his way over, smoothly including himself in conversation just to make an excuse to the other guests to ‘borrow your attention’ for a moment.

you take his arm that he offers you, holding your wine glass in your other hand. childe has always been a gentleman towards you, such a passionate person with excellent manners. you’re almost always guaranteed to have a grand time whenever he invites you out (obviously as friends, which you two have made known to the entire town).

“so ajax, tell me about your journey to liyue—” your throat interrupts your speech with a very clear hiccup. “—harbour.” your cheeks burn, quickly apologising for your lack of manners under your breath.

childe hums, loving how you used the name he told you to use when it’s just you and him. “your grace, are you drunk?” he gazes at your flushed face and how your styled hair looks more undone. he thinks you look better this way actually.

“i might be,” you sigh, wanting to hand your glass over to a butler but childe stops you before you can, taking your glass to quickly down the last sips of your beverage.

“ajax, what are you doing?!” you tap his arm repeatedly with concern, telling him to slow down.

you just got that glass a few minutes ago! but besides that, he’s drinking the wine you just had?! what if his lips touch the part yours did on the glass? not that you mind at all—you wouldn’t dare say that out loud but your thoughts are as clear as day on your expression.

childe enjoys the look on your face, satisfied and relieved that you didn’t show a hint of dissatisfaction. “i’ve not had the honour to dance with you tonight.” he passes the empty glass onto a passing butler’s tray. “shall i have the pleasure now?”

kamisato ayato

by this time in the evening, you, thoma and ayaka are probably done playing the hot pot game. which is alright since ayato knew he would return home from business later than usual tonight, but that doesn’t stop him from checking up on all of you. so when he slides the door open to see his faithful retainer, his sister and you sleeping soundly in the designated hot pot room at komore teahouse, the lord cannot help but stifle a fond laugh.

it then comes to his attention that the room reeks of alcohol. oh dear. that explains why everyone’s blacked out.

“‘yato?” he watches you lift your head from the table. ah, you’re still awake… and definitely drunk. no wonder you dropped the formalities all of a sudden. if you were sober you would have rushed to greet him by the door and refer to him by “my lord” despite all the protests he’s made to call you by his first name instead.

ayato hushes you gently, ignoring how his heart skips a beat at the mention of his first name leaving your lips and sits himself beside you. he’s almost taken aback by how you immediately lean onto his body for support. he knew you were an affectionate person but you normally asked before proceeding with anything just in case he felt uncomfortable (surprise! he never did). so seeing this side of you is rather refreshing to his eyes.

“what’re you doing here?” you blink hardly at him but it’s to no avail as the alcohol in your veins distorts your vision.

he brings you closer, gloved hand rising to caress the back of your head. “i just came to visit. however, it didn’t occur to me that you would all have so much fun without my presence.” 

“nonsense!” you claim dramatically, a satisfied smile immediately appearing on ayato’s face at your predictable reaction.

you poke his arm you don’t realise is already sat on your waist. you’re too ready to defend your lord from his own words to notice anyway.

ayato scans your face. lavender eyes find your plumped lips, the thin sheen of sweat along your cheeks and your hair attempting to escape the confines of your hairpin—hold on a moment, he got you that hairpin!

the way ayato has to physically restrain a grin from showing on his face is uncharacteristic of him. he’s noticed that he uncovers new parts of himself whenever you’re beside him. such an interesting person you are…

“we were waiting for you—hic—however, we got a little distracted.” you admit, gesturing at ayaka who sleeps soundly on thoma’s jacket. you look up at ayato through your eyelashes, giving him a lopsided smile.

“i remembered your—hic—advice when you said ayaka can’t drink more than a glass. she might even have it worse than me. but thoma, on the other hand, was a completely different story. that man was a mess!” you move your head to look at thoma’s body sprawled over the floor, ugly giggles leaving the back of your throat at how much of an idiot he looks like right now.

your hair tickles ayato’s chin but he pays no mind to it when he’s so immensely amused by your relaxed nature when drunk.

thoma

thoma mentally checks his list of things to do before retiring for the night. his lord is in his office, accompanied by a freshly made pot of tea, his lady should already be sound asleep and the other retainers are also readying to retire too. he sighs to himself, patting his jacket down as he heads to the kitchen to finalise his cleaning.

when he enters the kitchen, he is baffled at the sight in front of him. he stares blankly for a moment to process it.

there’s remnants of sake dripping out of a tipped-over tokkuri and his lover who plays with the o-choko absentmindedly with their finger, drawing invisible lines along the rim. thoma stifles a giggle, a curled finger covering his lips.

his giggle sends your consciousness back into focus. you only have the power to tilt your head ever so slightly to the right, your movements pausing on the o-choko when your gaze falls upon the view of your lover.

“tho—ma,” your cracked voice calls for him, making him rush toward you in such fondness so he could pinch your cheeks.

“oh, y/n, what are you doing?” thoma asks as giggles leave his lips, watching you squint at him dazedly. “it’s dripping from the corner of your lips as well!” he takes a napkin, sitting next to you to wipe it away gently.

“wh- where’ve you been, pretty?” your words are slurred but thoma hears you perfectly well.

the pet name makes him blush, but you’re too drunk to notice. “i’ve been doing my job—oh, honey—” he huffs when he brings you to lean on him instead. the longer you lay your head on the table, the more you’ll want to throw up later (and thoma makes sure to prevent that from happening).

you giggle at the little voice crack you hear when he calls you by your pet name, leaning onto his chest as your head rests on his shoulder blade. taking advantage of this position, thoma presses a cool ceramic cup filled with water by your lips and when you lazily open your eyes, you see that it’s the glass that’s been sitting on the side from earlier.

“drink up, honey.” you can’t refuse such a request when it’s mumbled so affectionately by your ear. you’re probably even warm at your cheeks from it, but then again, the sake has kept your cheeks warm for a while. you can’t even tell anymore.

after taking a few sips of water, your throat feels fresh and renewed—if thoma heard your thoughts, he would deadpan at you and say “y/n. it’s called getting hydrated” in a sassy little voice. this scenario amuses you and it causes a small laugh to leave your lips.

above you, thoma is confused. “what are you thinking about?” he asks curiously with a smile.

as you rest your head on thoma’s shoulder again, you reply, “you. i’m just thinking about you.”

tighnari

a shout from outside tighnari’s lodging brings his attention away from his documents, brows furrowing and pushing himself up from his chair to see why his forest rangers are making such a fuss at an ungodly hour (yes, tighnari was awake at said ungodly hour but that wasn’t because he was with his fellow rangers after a night out!).

“tighnari, we’re back!” a drunk forest watcher waves and yells at the figure of tighnari, who has his arms crossed in front of him.

a sigh leaves tighnari’s mouth, one of exhaustion, to be precise. “do you intend to wake all of gandharva ville up? go find yourselves home and rest.” he turns around to head back inside until another forest watcher pipes up.

“wait, tighnari! y/n’s black out drunk!” a female forest watcher, who’s eyes can’t even look at a single point any longer due to the alcohol running in her veins, displays your figure with your arm dangling over her shoulders. “you need to take them back, i don’t know where they live!”

tighnari raises a brow and chuckles, shaking his head. “yet you’re sober enough to tell me this.” he walks towards the group of drunkards and collects you easily from the forest watcher, carefully placing your arm over his shoulders while his other hand holds your hip.

you barely know where you are and what’s happening but it appears that your assigned guardian angel for the night has retired and put you in more capable hands—or, arms. you blink in an attempt to gather knowledge of your surroundings but it’s to no avail when everything is a blur of darkness with hints of warm light from the dew lights.

a grunt escapes your lips in slight frustration as you walk away with this other person, but they’re quick to hush you gently and in a soft voice you hear, “i promise we’re almost there, just walk with me, okay?”

“yeah, okay,” you reply promptly but to tighnari’s ears, he’s never heard such a tone in your voice ever since you were recruited. his heart skips a beat and his ear twitches along. it’s rare to see you so vulnerable and he can tell you have no idea that he’s the one carrying you back to… well, his lodging. because your lodging is simply too far away (it’s only a bridge away) and he can’t have you walking any longer when you look like you’re on the verge of passing out! 

he doesn’t know what’s gotten into him when his gloved hand holds onto your forearm to keep your body steady against his as he walks you to his lodging. his body is going against him and his heart can only take the blame for such ridiculous delusions. what does he think he will get out of this?

he’s just your chief forest watcher, that’s all he will ever be to you—is what tighnari thinks. but in reality, you only went out with the others to spiral in alcohol due to your failed attempts of romancing your handsome superior. it seemed that the sumeru roses and the letter you left at his doorstep were blown away by the wind (you had to commit blasphemy on that day and curse the anemo archon), the pita pockets you made for him were stolen away by some petty treasure hoarders when you weren’t looking and overall, your thoughts were a mess thinking about your failed attempts. it was like your beloved archon forgot to bless you with wisdom to avoid these situations.

“see! i told you he had a soft spot for them!”

“it’s so obvious the feelings mutual, i can’t believe they didn’t believe us.”

“they’re literally the only one who can’t see it!”

tighnari clears his throat loud enough for the group to hear him. he turns around and gives them a pointed look until they’re all skipping away to their respective lodgings.

he glances at your drunken face for a brief moment and smiles to himself, continuing to walk you back.

it appears that all his worries were meaningless.

kaveh

the sight of you leaning against the door to his home almost makes his soul fly right out of his body.

“hello y/n, i thought we were meeting for dinner?” but when kaveh finally makes it to where you are, you are nowhere near sober. no wonder your figure was leaning against the wood so flimsily. you were akin to a ragdoll at this point. “great heavens, is the end of the world upon us? why are you drunk before me?” he hesitantly collects you in his arms while mehrak hovers beside him. he can’t have you just leaning like that!

“went to… birthday party… drinks…”

that’s enough information to bring kaveh up to speed with the situation. but also… why did you decide to go to his house?! was it instinctive?

kaveh cringes at his thoughts and opens the door with his free hand while his other hand supports you by your waist (he can feel his palm warming up to the touch on your body and it’s making the poor man sweat). “come on in, let’s sober you up.” 

when you’re sat nicely on the couch, your eyes are still closed with zero awareness of your surroundings. how your head suddenly tilts backwards at such speed almost brings the most horrific yelp out of kaveh, he’s relieved to know his reflexes are still sharp enough to have caught your head before it snapped right off your neck.

“archons, you’re going to give me a heart attack!” he holds the back of your head and somehow manages to bring your body to lean against the spine of the couch. he doesn’t forget to put a pillow behind your back either, because you being drunk doesn’t mean you’re drunk enough to not feel discomfort.

after collecting himself from that scare, he returns with a cup of water, hands carefully hovering it in front of your lips. “here, drink up,” he says but you keep moving your mouth away from the cup that it’s slowly beginning to irritate him.

“y/n, you need to sober up if you’re going to walk home later,” he tells you in a more serious voice which makes you groan, throwing your head forward into your hands.

“you don’t understand.”

“what don’t i understand?”

what am i doing here? i swear i was in front of my friend's place… how is it that my drunk feet led me here? out of all the places on this continent, why did i take myself to the one place i’m trying to avoid?!

kaveh raises a brow and puts down the glass of water. “is something wrong, y/n? i haven’t even seen you since last week.”

“i’ve been… busy…” trying to keep my feelings at bay!

“i see,” kaveh responds before adding, “do you still feel drunk?”

“i wouldn’t say i’m drunk to the point of passing out—i did feel like that earlier but now that i’m sitting i can at least participate in conversation.” you remove your face from your hands.

why is his face so pink? you think to yourself, grabbing the glass of water from the table to take a sip before leaning back with your free arm supporting you. you grin to yourself, feeling a little cheeky.

you offer the glass of water you just drank from to kaveh, hovering it in front of his lips and you swear you almost watch his eyes fall out of their eye sockets.

“what—what are you doing?!” kaveh’s voice shakes and you let out this cute drunken giggle that makes his heart leap. 

“i know i’m the one drunk, but for some reason you look drunk without even having drinks!”

kaveh touches his face and he purses his lips. his cheeks are so used to being hot from being in your presence that he didn’t even realise!

“allow me to assist you.” you lean your body a little closer so you can press the chilled glass of water against kaveh’s cheek.

his bottom lip falls and quivers when you lean closer towards him. last time you were this close, you were putting medication on his face after a run in with fungi.

the coldness of the glass somehow gives him time to think to himself—rationally. maybe in this moment right now he could…

“thank you, y/n.” you’ve never heard this tone in kaveh’s voice, it’s unfamiliar and so… tender. what he does next makes you finally meet his scarlet eyes.

a warm hand wraps around your wrist that holds the glass to his cheeks, your skin immediately lights up in fire at the contact. it makes you gulp so embarrassingly loudly before him.

he leans into the coolness of the glass, gazing at you with such gentle eyes that it’s tempting you to look away. as his thumb gently caresses your skin, he smiles. “it helps.”

wanderer

wanderer returns to his home a little later than usual tonight. he made sure to leave a note on the dining table to let you know of his whereabouts for the day. he knows you have the propensity to worry about him, despite his claims that he’ll be perfectly fine because of how well-versed he is in the arts of defence (and nasty attacks). which is why he left the note on the table, and he acknowledges how it was moved to another spot on the table from this morning.

you’ve seen it. he thinks to himself and now he wonders where you are. you’re not normally out at this time and from your cute daily schedule reports you tell him before bed, he doesn’t remember you mentioning that you would be out until this time. or if you were going out with friends.

that’s alright. wanderer can wait.

the tapping of his own foot is driving the man on edge. it’s been two whole hours—the sun is far beneath the horizon and the birds are already snoring. where the hell are you? wanderer cannot do this anymore, he rises from his seat and takes flight with his anemo abilities.

the city is rather easy to navigate at this height. in the dark, the city is at least still lit up by streetlights and with the help of one nearby lambad’s tavern, he spots your curled figure sitting on the floor very easily.

he hovers over the cement before landing smoothly on his feet. “what are you doing here at this time? it’s so late,” wanderer remarks with irritation, standing in front of you with his arms folded. he stares at your figure with a frown.

“h-huh?” your voice comes out hoarse, lifting your head and your eyes slowly make out the figure of wanderer. “o-oh it’s youi… where’ve you been?” you manage to say despite how the world shakes around you.

“tch, what do you—” wanderer stops himself, raising a brow then finally taking the time to scan your face and posture and it hits him.

you’re fucking drunk.

“you’re insane,” wanderer scoffs, kneeling down to silently take a closer look at your face and body for any drunkenly bruises. “do you even know what time it is? i was waiting for you.” he doesn’t exactly know what to do with his hands but he decides to offer you one to help you get up on your feet.

“you think i’m insane but really, you’re the one doing insane things all the time! you know, like fighting fatui agents in the rain… to avenge a bird!” you put emphasis on the word ‘bird’ and wanderer scoffs at the finger you point at him.

“it was in danger,” he replies simply before sighing, “but that’s not the point. you’re drunk outside at a time like this so i’ll be taking you home now.”

talking to him magically makes you more sober with every passing second. you decide to play with him a little, leaning back on the brick wall as the crease in your brow melts away. “ooh, shouldn’t you take me on a date first?”

wanderer groans, pulling his hand back. he’s never had to deal with you drunk before! so he thinks for a moment, and he stands tall on his feet, turning his head the other direction. “if this is how you will continue to act then i will leave you to your own devices, however if you come back crawling to me—”

wanderer almost gasps at your figure suddenly standing beside him, steady on your feet as you give him a hard and long stare. “you don’t have to tell me twice about how you wait for me at home, i’m well aware of that. complain all you want about me but your words aren’t consistent with your actions, my love.” you slide your hand down his arm to reach for his hand as you lean your head on his shoulder.

you feel him tilt his face in the other direction. curious, you briefly lift your head for a moment to spot your pretty artificial lover gritting his teeth as a sheet of pink blankets his cheeks.

“fool,” he whispers, but there is no malice behind it.

[littlexdeaths]

eddie munson x fem reader

warnings: mostly fluff but all my works are 18+, established relationship, fear of flying, a very dramatic nose bleed and eddie being an adorable but horny mf

a/n: i recently started rewatching supernatural again, and in doing so i came to the conclusion that dean and eddie are very similar. so this is a little something that’s loosely based off a scene in season 1, episode 4: phantom traveler. enjoy xx.

“are you seriously humming enter sandman right now?” you ask, amusement creeping into your voice as you glance over beside you.

only to see your boyfriend. with his cheeks flushed, leg bouncing erratically and ringed fingers gripping tightly onto the armrest nestled between you.

when you originally brought up the idea to book a flight to visit your folks for the holidays, instead of making the almost 10 hour trek to good ole’ minnesota, eddie had seemed all for it.

he encouraged it actually.

making some joke about how his “decrepit, aching twenty-six year old body” couldn’t handle another 10 hour drive.

however, the closer the trip loomed, the more reluctant eddie became. and he tried every which way to get you to cancel the flight and make the dreaded drive instead. but that was an argument he wasn’t going to win.

it wasn’t until the plane began to ascend into the air that the reason for his sudden reluctance became blatantly obvious.

eddie munson was scared, no scratch that—petrified of flying.

and try as you may, you just found that new tidbit to be even more endearing.

eddie gives you a sideways glare as you attempt to hide your grin. and really it shouldn’t be this funny. but maybe your lack of sleep from the early morning drive to the airport is finally beginning to weigh on you and soon the delirious giggles will start to kick in.

“yes, it calms me,” he huffs, gaze tearing away from you to glance out the small window of the plane.

“well you don’t look very calm to me.”

you rest a hand on his bouncing knee, just as another round of turbulence rocks through the cabin. and your amusement quickly delves into concern as he grips your arm to pull you closer into his side.

“okay—that cannot be normal!” he nearly whines, leaning his head back against the seat.

“baby, it’s just a little turbulence. you know you’re more likely to die in a car accident than on an airplane, right?”

while he appreciates your attempt to ease his mind a bit, it’s seriously not working.

“nice try, but i’ve seen final destination, sweetheart. i know how this shit ends.”

and you can’t help but roll your eyes at his dramatics.

soon his humming starts back up, becoming a lot louder. and earning him a solid kick in the back from the teenager seated in the row behind you. the kick seems to be perfectly timed however. as the force of it and another jostle of the plane has his body flying forward, his nose smashing directly into the seat in front of him.

his pained groan has your temper flaring, ready to whip your head around and give that shit head kid a piece of your mind. but you freeze when you notice the way he’s cradling his nose. your gaze following the drops of crimson that have dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt.

“shit, eddie you’re bleeding.”

he makes a noise in confirmation, but before he can utter some sarcastic remark you have unbuckled both of your seatbelts and hauled him to his feet.

the flashing seatbelt sign be damned.

a flight attendant tries to stop you on your way down the aisle toward the bathroom, but you’re having none of it.

“miss, you both need to return to your—”

and if looks could kill, this whole plane would come crashing down.

“either you let me through so i can help clean him up, or he makes a mess of your aircraft. your choice.”

while you can tell she wants to argue, seeing the blood beginning to seep through the space between his fingers has her moving aside to let you pass.

“christ, sweetheart.” eddie groans when you carefully shove him inside the small bathroom and squeeze in behind him.

“sit, now.” you order.

he does as instructed, spreading his legs so you can slip in between them. you grab a wad of the practically sheer toilet paper, running a corner of it beneath the stream of water.

“keep the bridge of your nose pinched, it’ll help stop the bleeding.”

and when you turn back toward him, your brows pull together in confusion. his lips are stretched in a toothy grin, any trace of his anxiety now forgotten.

at least for the moment.

you begin to gently dab at the drying blood on his upper lip, thankful that most of the gushing had ceased for the time being. and eddie winces slightly once you start to clean around his nose.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, having felt his burning gaze from the moment he sat down.

“you’re just…” he trails off, slipping his fingers through the loop of your jeans to tug you closer—if that were even possible. “really fuckin’ sexy when you’re bossy.”

and a subtle glance down has you huffing out a laugh of disbelief.

“eddie, do you seriously have a boner right now?”

and he just grins wider.

“guilty as charged.”

[deathbyathousandspiders]

let me down slowly. ₃

mcu!peter parker x fem!stark!reader | boy in the bubble part three.

IN WHICH a few days have passed since the attack & finding out peter's super secret, but will peter find a way to earn your forgiveness?

author's note — highly recommend reading the first two parts! i love writing song prompts, they are too yummy !!!!!

WARNINGS (18+ MDNI) — reader gets hurt, reader has lowkey PTSD, mentions of knife, angst to fluff<3

read part one | part two here.

gif found here.

✨masterlist.✨

3.4k.

Walking through the bustling city of New York never ceased to amaze you, especially at sunset. The pink tickling between buildings, the rush of people flooding the sidewalks, and the steps you and Peter took in time back to your apartment. 

It was just barely past six on that Friday evening, and you could feel the gentle rumble of your stomach at the thought of being welcomed by your Father’s cooking. 

A smile touched your lips as Peter echoed your unspoken words. 

“I wonder what he’s making tonight.” He voiced, glancing your way as you walked together. “I’m hungry just thinking about it.”

You couldn’t help but nod in agreement, hands placed over your stomach at the thought. “Stop, I’m too excited.” Tony was an excellent cook, and exceptional at surprises. You knew whatever he had in store tonight would be divine. “I saw salmon in the fridge so I wonder if—”

Peter stopping dead in his tracks startled you. He practically froze, like he was witnessing something of insanity in front of him. Glancing at where his eyes were focused, you found nothing of the sort. 

“Peter?” Concern bled from your voice. You couldn’t help it. He looked like he could feel every hair on his body stand upright. It was unsettling. 

Meeting your eyes, his brows knit together to create a look of sympathy. Apology. “I–uh, I forgot something at the school!” The words were practically blurted. 

Your own brows knit together, not in remorse, but in confusion. “Can’t you just get it on Monday?”

He shook his head. “I can’t–” The dread in his voice—the sudden breathless panic lacing each syllable he spoke—confused you, more than you knew how to say. “It’s important. I–I have to go.”

“You’re leaving?” It wasn’t an accusation more than a statement, but he could hear the undertones of what you implied. 

The look on your face read that the two of you had been here too many times before. 

He took paces towards you. “I’ll meet you there. I’ll be there for dinner.” And Peter gave you a hug. The grip to his embrace was puzzling. He didn’t seem to want to let you go. 

“You promise?”

Peter pulled back to meet your eyes, and every unspoken word shared between the shared glances told you that he meant every ounce of endearment to his reply: “I promise.”

And with that, he slipped away from you and back the way you’d walked from. 

As you kept walking to your apartment, part of you realized how difficult it was to believe him. He always ran off with some crazy excuse, and it never felt honest. Another part of you realized that you should probably ask him about it before you worried yourself sick. 

A bystander approaching you caught you off balance. 

“Y/N Stark?” They asked, something like excitement caught their tongue. “I’m a big fan of your father’s work. Would it be alright to get your autograph?”

A bizarre ask, but it wasn’t the first time. You smiled politely, nodding your head as you grabbed the pen they’d offered. “Sure! I appreciate it.”

Your hand flew elegantly across the photo of you and your father held towards you, signing your name on the bottom right corner. 

When you went to hand the pen back, they grabbed your wrist with a force that told you how stupid you’d been. 

“Don’t struggle or I’ll make this hell for you.” A threat, and it seemed nothing empty. As they forced you down the sidewalk beside them, you tried to assess what they were wearing; what was on their person and what kind of threat they’d be. 

A matted handle of a knife beside their pocket made your blood race a little faster. 

They tugged you into an alley off the sidewalk, secluded from sight, and threw you into the brick wall to the left of it. The texture scraped down your body as you tried to catch your balance, but you fell onto your back and into the pavement as the man laughed. 

“What a weak, pathetic excuse for a Stark.”

It was tantalizing, and surely something that would haunt you, but you couldn’t help but fight. You glared up at the man, hoping the look in your eye held something sharper than the blade he drew from his pocket. 

As he paced closer, you were suddenly grateful for all the close quarter combat that Sam and Natasha had taught you. 

Once he was close enough, just as he went to slash his weapon at you, you kicked between his legs with as much force as you had before locking your foot behind his right knee and pulling it towards you. He fell to the ground with a groan, swinging his knife aimlessly in your direction. You couldn’t tell if he’d missed or not—adrenaline wouldn’t let you feel it just yet. 

Your knee met his jaw before you rolled away from him. You attempted to run from the alley, but his slime grip caught your ankle and yanked you back towards him. It was a pathetic yelp that left your lips, but you couldn’t help it. 

Everything in you tried not to believe the words he’d spat at you. You couldn’t give up, you couldn’t end like this. 

Your feet kicked at him, even though you couldn’t see. You tried to flip over, catching the direct moment that your left foot met his face and challenged him back. 

You managed to stand and run before you could look back, but you couldn’t get far. Somehow, you realized the alleyway was longer than you’d remember. Suddenly, his hands were over your mouth and muffling screams; his knife was at your stomach, and all he said was the same phrase. 

“What a weak, pathetic excuse for a Stark—”

You’d never felt the stronger need for oxygen than what ripped you from slumber. 

Heave after heave, you had to remind yourself that you weren’t dreaming anymore. The nightmare was over. You made it out. You were safe. 

You were only left splintered with the feeling. Paranoia. 

Ever since the attack, and finding out that Peter Parker was Spider–Man, you’d been getting frequent nightmares. Whether the wicked dreams were flashbacks to getting jumped, or some memory with Peter that haunted your sleep, they varied each time your eyes shut. 

Immediately, you sat up, turned your bedside lamp on, grabbed your cell phone, and dialed the first number you could think of. You left no room for panic. 

It didn’t even take five seconds before he answered. 

“Hello?” 

“I had another one.” The first four words you could mutter, the only information you’d spare. It was just another nightmare, another reason to call him. It was not forgiveness. 

Not yet, at least. 

You brought your knees to your chest beneath your blankets, running your fingers across your cloth–covered calves. It grounded you from lingering scarcities, and kept you from oversharing. 

You were still upset with him and your father for what happened four days ago. Not even a nightmare would shake the betrayal from your bones. 

The sound of Peter Parker’s empathy was unspoken across the call, yet pretty loud as the silence settled between the two of you. 

He thought carefully through his next words, knowing damn well how thin the ice he stood on already was. 

“Do you want me to come over–?”

“No.” Your response was sharp, quick, locked, and loaded. 

“Is there anything I can—“

“No.” Another double edged, double lettered response. 

Peter blew a subtle breath out from what you assumed were puffed cheeks. He knew better than to say too much, than to break your trust even further. 

As silence nestled into the space between you, whatever paranoia had been shaking your system seemed to wither a little. 

Even just the muffled sound of his breath and hesitation across the call brought you more comfort than you knew how to ask for. 

You didn’t plan to cave and tell him that you missed him, though. He didn’t deserve that. 

“Does this mean you’re talking to me again?” 

Somehow, Peter’s voice hummed like the perfect mix of backstabbed and security. It made everything feel so complicated. 

You had to think about it, how to answer him.  

Still, your reply remained the same. 

“No.” It wasn’t as harsh as the variant prior. 

You heard Peter turn his own bedside lamp on, and the short sigh he let out in response to you. 

“Are you only allowing yourself to say ‘no’ to me, then?”

It was a challenge to stay mad at him, especially considering how long you’d known him for and how well he knew you. Betrayed or not, you knew deep down that you didn’t plan to stay upset with him forever. 

As much as you tried to hide it, the word came out more gently than intended. “Yes.” The humorous opportunity was difficult to resist.

You could hear the small smile Peter acquired on the other end of the line. “So she speaks.”

“No, she doesn’t.” You quipped back, though the ice you’d initiated the call with began to thaw bit by bit. 

“Would she..? If I apologized again?” The question was scarce, but you couldn’t say you hadn’t been expecting it. 

This was a dance you and Peter had been tip–toeing for the past three nights. You didn’t dare break the silence that first night, nor did you sleep, but you couldn’t help it the second night. And yesterday night, too. He had apologized both. 

He’d left an apology note in your locker earlier that day, too. 

Your dad hadn’t said anything remotely related to an apology, even though he tried other ways to bridge the growing gap between you. You couldn’t tell if it was his stubborn spirits or fear of vulnerability, but Tony Stark didn’t seem to know where to start. 

And you weren’t going to make it your job to show him. 

At least Peter was trying.

You shook your head, despite the fact that he couldn’t see it. “You can’t ask me that so late.” At this point, you couldn’t stop the playful tone of your voice. “I won’t sound convincing, and you haven’t earned forgiveness yet.”

Peter took a second, whether to take in a moment where you weren’t seething at him, or to think through a response that wouldn’t scare you off, he’d never admit. Part of you appreciated him for that, appreciated him for allowing you to have more time in his company when you weren’t so begrudging. 

Part of you forgot that he was your best friend, in the midst of how clouded you’d been with despair. 

“Tell me, then.” His voice was barely above a whisper, gentle enough to lay his weapons down. “How can I earn your forgiveness?”

Somehow, the question made your heart race. It made your skin heat and your head spin. You hadn’t thought this far into it, or given it this much reflection. 

Just how could he earn your forgiveness? How could Peter Parker win your trust back?

You gave it a second, catching a bit of your breath that had gotten away. “Maybe you can–”

The sudden sound of thudding from downstairs came out of nowhere. Your head immediately snapped towards the door, that breath instantly catching back in your throat. 

“Y/N?” 

Breathe. You had to remember to breathe. You were just jumpy after the attack. Right. Yes, clearly you were just easily startled after Friday night. This had to have been your father being clumsy. 

Pulling your phone from your ear, you put Peter on speaker while you went to text your father. If you just asked him if he was alright, that wouldn’t be caving into forgiving him. It was just two in the morning and you were a worried daughter. 

However, the screen you were met with sent your heart straight to the floor. 

Peter repeated himself, “Y/N?” There was an edge to his voice this time, skeptical of your silence. “Are you okay?”

Tony had texted you two hours prior that he left the apartment. He was upstate at the compound, needing to assist Bruce with a technology repair. 

Which only meant—

Taking Peter off speakerphone, you pressed the device back to your ear. “Peter–” You could only force out whispers, fingers suddenly trembling as they went to tug your covers off. “Peter, someone’s here!” Panic bled through as your blood washed white. 

You didn’t waste a second to scurry across the room and lock the door, didn’t wait for Peter to respond before you grabbed a baseball bat you kept in the corner to defend yourself. 

His end of the call was quieter than you wanted it to be, for much longer than you knew how to deal with. 

It was quiet enough to hear two more thuds, getting a bit closer. 

Fear kept you in such a chokehold, you had to fight to mutter his name again—to whisper his name just to make sure he hadn’t left you. 

“I’m on my way.” His voice held something grave, determined; you made out the breeze whispering behind his response through the phone call. “Don’t leave your room.” The instructions were stern, protective. 

Your grip was firm and strong against the bat, pointing it at your door like some sort of sword. The length of your arm trembled, but you tried to remain calm, especially as the thudding repeated twice more, closer even. 

Every ounce of air in your lungs froze. “Hurry, Peter..” You whispered. Immediately, you heard another thud, louder than the others. You could barely discern it over the blaring noise of your heart pounding beneath your chest. 

Each hair on your body rose at the sound of footsteps taking the stairs. 

“Peter!” Calling your voice a whisper would’ve been false; you wheezed his name out. “Peter, he’s back! He’s here!” And even though your voice was quiet, you had to force it out. You couldn’t function with the rate your body shook at. 

You couldn’t breathe anymore once the shadows of feet reached your door. 

You barely had the air to gasp at the sight, to fumble for the baseball bat you tried to grip between your fingers. 

Peter finally spoke up, “Hey, breathe.” And you felt a wave of relief when his voice was heard beyond your door as well. “It’s just me.. You’re okay.” And he went to unlock the door. 

He was the only one who knew where you hid the spare key. 

When the door opened, and Peter stood behind it, you couldn’t find the words or place the thoughts you had at the sight of him. 

He hung the phone up, waiting in the doorframe to keep from intruding. “There was a pigeon loose in your living room.” He spoke it gently, “Someone left the terrace door open.”

It took his words then to recall that you’d left that door open. No one had broken in. You were going to be okay. 

The bat fell from your hands and rattled to the floor as you released it, your phone followed suit on your bed as your hands covered your face. You couldn’t keep your composure over the panic, over each sleep deprived night and every aching bruise still painting your body. 

Hidden behind your hands, you began to sob. 

Peter didn’t hesitate to pace the distance between you. He sat beside you on your bed and pulled you into his arms. You couldn’t find the words to thank him or the strength to move for a moment, but once you did, you wrapped your arms tightly around him, and he pulled you as close as he could. 

“I’m so sorry..” He whispered into your hairline, a few of his tears catching with his words. His hand held the base of your head, thumb combing through the hair of yours that it could as he held you. 

You were still catching your bearings. Still gripping white knuckles on his band tee and shaking in his arms. “I– I didn’t think I would—” You were gasping the words between sobs. “I thought I was going to—” You couldn’t finish the sentence. 

Both of his hands found your jaw, pulling you back so he could see you. He wouldn’t let you finish that sentence, nor would he ever let it come true. “Y/N, I would never let that happen..” He spoke so earnestly. “You’re safe. I promise.”

He saw how the word promise seemed to affect you. He realized then that if he had any shot of earning your forgiveness, it was now. 

“We promised to tell each other everything.” He started, and you soaked in every word. You soaked in everything about him, allowing yourself to release your anger for a moment. “I also promised your dad that I’d do everything I could to protect you.. I intend to keep both.”

Your sobs had settled, and he’d begun to use his thumbs to wipe the tears still streaking your face. 

“I didn’t keep my promise to you too well.” He sounded so disappointed with himself. “Tony thought it would be better to keep all of this from you, but I just…” He lost the words, wincing at his realization of how awful he’d been. 

His forehead fell against yours in defeat, despairingly. “There were dozens of times I wanted to tell you. Every time I didn’t, I broke our promise, and I’m so sorry.. You deserved better than that.”

As you looked up to meet his eyes, you could see tears glistening in his own. 

“I forgive you.” It felt rewarding to say, especially as hope returned to Peter’s expression right where it belonged. You couldn’t help but laugh a little at how excited he seemed. “Fuck, and this whole time, I thought you were hiding a secret girlfriend or something.”

The laugh that spilled from his lips was much more timid than you would’ve expected, and felt incredibly intimate at the close proximity you shared. “No. There’s only one girl I’ve got my eyes set on.” And he didn’t break his stare from you. 

You couldn’t help but giggle, shoving him playfully. “That was the corniest thing I have ever heard you say.”

He laughed with you, wiping his remaining tears. “Shut up!”

The two of you fell into something so familiar, a small fit of laughter and stares of admiration. Oh, how badly you’d missed him. 

You took in the sight of him beside you, him in a natural state. His cheeks were still flushed from the brisk wind of his journey over, his curls stuck out like coils of fire atop his head. He was in pajamas, a white band tee, blue boxers, and white Nike socks. 

He looked like your best friend, and it took you til that moment to realize just how safe you felt with him—the safest you’d felt all week. 

A timid smile curved along your lips. “Would you be okay staying with me tonight?” You scanned his face for his reaction. “Tony’s out for the night and I don’t want to be alone.”

His expression matched yours, eyes pooling with a bit more sympathy, and something that looked like he’d been hoping you would ask. “You don’t have to be. I’ll stay with you.” And that was all he took before he lifted your covers for you to cozy back inside. 

Peter waited for you to give more invitation of whether or not he could get close to you. He did not want to overstep, especially after you’d just made up. When you pulled back your covers for him, he slid in beside you; once you’d pulled his arm over your waist, he didn’t hesitate before spooning you snug in his arms. 

As you fell asleep, majority of your resentment for the situation seemed to wither away. You knew you’d have a talk with your father, but seeing as you woke up to a text from him with an actual apology and the news that they’d found your attacker, you knew the conversation wouldn’t be so bad. 

Walking up in Peter’s arms was more than you could’ve ever asked for. You hoped that you’d be able to get used to it. 

You knew as long as you had each other, Peter would never let any harm happen to you. 

And maybe that meant you weren’t powerless after all. 

tag–list: @yourfavoritefangirl @inkedeye2345 @wxnterwidow333 @generalmoonpolice @elianamarie-blog @cantbecreative @justpeachyparker @spideryenby @notsolong-pause @wellshit6 @mwahreads @lovelyidyllic @mimisamisasa @love-hs28

thank you for all the love on the last part!! not sure whether to write a part four, but please please please leave me more song prompts/requests !!!!! these are by far my favorite <3

[moonstruckme]

Sincerely Sappy

summary: Sirius is a big fan of pet names. You're not so keen on them, so he needs to convince you.

Sirius Black x fem! reader ♡ 736 words

You let the steam from the two mugs waft warmly over your face, inhaling the sweet, earthy aroma of the tea. Earl grey for Sirius, jasmine for you. You’re careful not to spill as you carry them to the couch, so careful that when you look up and catch Sirius’s gaze, it sends a tiny frision of surprise through you. 

This thing between you is still new, and the effect he has on you hasn’t ebbed; every time he walks into a room, or looks at you a certain way, or gifts you one of his sweet, slow smiles, it feels like your heart stops and starts again.

Sirius deploys one of those smiles now, reaching up to take his mug, but you move past him to set them both on the coffee table.

“Careful,” you say, turning his handle to face him. “Don’t burn yourself.” 

“Thanks, baby.” Sirius lets his hand brush yours appreciatively as he picks it up.

Baby. You laugh, and it comes out nervous and pitchy. “Ew, don’t call me that.” 

He blinks. “Why not? You don’t like it?”

“It—” It’s not that you don’t like it, necessarily. The endearment sends a buzzing from your core all the way to your fingertips that’s not strictly unpleasant, but… “I’m not a baby.” 

Sirius quirks a brow, blowing pensively on his tea. “You’re my baby, though.” 

You moan, letting your knees come up to your chest and hiding your face in your hands. Sirius’s laughter only worsens the warmth spreading across your face like a blight. 

“Okay, okay,” he relents. “You don’t like it. That’s alright, do you prefer angel?”

You lower one of your hands enough to let him view your disbelieving look. 

“No? How about sweetheart? Princess?” Sirius creeps closer, setting down his mug so he can devote his full attention to your torment. “Honey? Dearest?” He drops his voice when his mouth is nearly touching your ear, so it’s low and soft when he says, “Darling?”

“Sirius!” If you don’t stop him, you worry your pants will turn to ash right there on the couch. 

“C’mon,” he takes your wrists, removing them from your face. “Everyone else gets to call you Y/N. I’ve got an ego to feed, so I need something extra-special, just for me. You gotta give me at least one.”

You must look fairly distraught, because Sirius brings your wrists to his chest, tracing patterns on the backs of your hands soothingly. Even when he’s hellbent on teasing you, he’s unbearably sweet. You sigh. “They all just sound so sappy.” 

Sirius squints at you, the bridge of his nose wrinkling, like you’re silly. “Yeah?” he asks. “What do you call this?” He brings your hands, willing captives, to his face, kissing your knuckles. You can only watch, half wariness and half awe at his affection. You’re unsure if it’s theatrics, or if Sirius is being genuine. He certainly seems genuine, but...but. You can’t handle it. It feels like a farce, a trap, to think that someone could treat you so tenderly. “What do you call that?” He points his chin at the two steaming mugs of tea on the coffee table, and you think of how ridiculously pleased he’d been when you started stocking his favorite earl grey for when he came over. 

Preparing for me to become a regular visitor, are we? He’d teased, but there was sincerity in his smile. That’s really thoughtful of you, love.

He smiles at you now, pulling you gently from your reverie. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m feeling rather sappy about you these days. And those feelings require an outlet, so you’re just going to have to get used to it.” 

You roll your eyes, but he’s succeeded in melting you; you’ve got no fight left. “Fine, call me whatever. But love is my favorite.” 

Sirius grins. “I can do that, love.” Your heart lurches almost painfully, but before you can take it back, he adds, “And you can call me whatever you like too, of course.” 

You perk up, biting back a smile at the idea of the mocking he’ll endure from James and Sirius if you call him “babygirl” the next time you’re all together. Sirius must see the mischief in your face, his brows furrowing in concern, but before he can take it back, you beam at him sweetly. 

“Deal.”