#that no one even showed up or wrote to him or anything trying to convince him to come back

[war-in-time]

you’re so right about people not knowing how to handle conflict and i wish they did, people act like collins can do no wrong but if they could see past that there are some really interesting conversations to be had about this book and what does or doesn’t work from a literary perspective. but they aren’t willing to hear it out in a mature and respectful manner.

anyways what i wanted to say and get your opinion on is that i get collins maybe wanting to make a point about how long rebellion takes and how much trial and error there is but i kind of hate that it came at the cost of haymitch’s story from catching fire, like there are so many other ways to write about themes of propaganda i hate that we had to take a story with really interesting and impactful messages about rebellion and the cruelties of the capitol and say it was actually all propaganda, it doesn’t make sense to me.

haymitch not purposely acting as a part of the rebellion but rather just trying to survive (like katniss and peeta with the berries) makes for such a compelling message too. like i think him outsmarting the capitol using his own intellect rather than because he was following instructions from the rebellion and thus the captiol punishing a kid who wasn’t trying to dismantle them but was just trying to survive and make it back home alive hits so hard why erase that? she could’ve conveyed these themes with a different characters story, why assassinate haymitch like that? i also think there’s something powerful in his catching fire story about how him and maysilee broke the alliance but he still went after her without obligation.

i’m convinced that what we see in catching fire was what she originally intended his story to be and that she came up with the events of this book much later. it just frustrates me that she wrote haymitch’s story with such compelling ideas and messages only to then with this book say the capitol made that all up. like haymitch has always been my favorite character and while i hate that she took away his intellect and edge i actually hate that she took away all the meaning behind how his story in catching fire played out more.

Alright I will go into the propaganda aspect and why none of it works. Let’s start with Haymitch in Catching Fire: everything that we learn about him and the 50th games seems believable to how Haymitch had been characterized up till that point. During his interview: “Haymitch shrugs. “I don’t see that it makes much difference. They’ll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same””(CF.197). That way of thinking is shown to align exactly with how Haymitch views others and what he verbally says he thinks of them throughout the original trilogy, remember he was not impressed with Katniss or Peeta. In fact he was completely dismissive of them until they both showed that they had a will to fight, he didn’t exactly respect them after that but he did show a real interest in them. Which is the same thing that Haymitch did in his arena from what we were showing in CF, he went off on his own from the start and only after Maysilee saved his life did he see the benefit of having an ally.

One of the key differences that I think was stripped from Haymitch in sotr is the fact that he cares about people, in his own silent way but he does care. Haymitch and Maysilee splitting up in CF made sense and didn’t need any further explanation; they were nearing the end of the games and almost all of the others were dead, they didn’t want to end up fighting each other. It’s a simple reason and we really didn’t need anything more, but then we’re shown that Haymitch did care about Maysilee more then just a person he had allied up with. He ran to her aid when she started screaming, even though he didn’t have to, they were no longer allies but he still cared about her. Sotr makes it seem like Haymitch only ever cares about the others in the arena because they all agreed to be allies, and not because he actually grew to like a person but knew there was no way they’d both make it back alive. Hie entire ‘Nobel hero’ act towards the end with him genuinely willing to die so a different tribute could live was just so… undeserving? We know nothing about the girl, I can’t even remember her name, and Haymitch knowing that he still has a family back home doesn’t even try winning to get back to them.

The forcefield incident was 100% the reason why Haymitch got punished by Snow, becuase come on lets be so realistic; if he destroyed a part of the arena he would have been killed in seconds for doing so. Why would Snow let Haymitch keep playing the game for another 5~ days after he tried to blow up the arena? And then at the end of sotr Haymitch didn’t have a plan to use the forcefield, it read like a complete accident and his victory is a coincidence instead of a clever use of the arena’s capabilities that he knew were there. I can see Haymitch’s family being executed for using the forcefield, but I can’t see Haymitch not being executed for the water tank.

So the propaganda message doesn’t really get shoved down our throats until the very end when Haymitch rewatches the games with Caesar, and I do mean SHOVED down our throats because it was about as subtle as a brick to the face. Haymitch physically tells us that everything has been altered because Collins forgot that it’s show, not tell, and told us everything. (As a side note this is why I hate Lenore Dove. Everything we ‘know’ about her has been told to us and we never get to see her doing any of the things she supposedly cares about.) Haymitch said while watching the re-run that he doesn’t recognize the person he is seeing on the screen and I for one agree with him, because I did not recognize the Haymitch I knew and loved in the original books once in sotr. So Collins just wanted to use propaganda as an excuse for why Haymitch’s personality is so drastically different in the chapter from CF, but its not that simple. His games in CF line up exactly with who Haymitch has been shown to be as a person for the entire series. I’ve seen people try to blame Haymitch’s alcoholism to explain away why he’s so different between the two books, but how did he somehow build all the brain cells he clearly possesses in the og trilogy that were lacking in sotr from being an alcoholic? Sure his personality could pleasingly have changed but his intellect wouldn’t. There was also no need for a propaganda ‘message’ because it doesn’t convey anything we don’t already know about that games, the capital, or propaganda as a whole.

Messaging in books and movies should never be so heavy handed because it implies that the audience is stupid and isn’t able to pick out hints and clues from the text to figure out the message, it comes across as demeaning and insulting. Especially when the ballad of songbirds and snakes does propaganda surpassingly well. The games were loosing traction and nobody wanted to watch them, so what did Snow do? He propagated it. He sold the tributes and the games as an active participant experience for the people of the capital and it worked, the loved it and bought into it. Propaganda by its definition is information, especially of a biased or misleading nature, used to promote or publicize a particular political cause or point of view. Which is what the hunger games are and have always been about in universe. They are a tool to remind people about the war and to keep everyone divided. Selling the tributes is a form of propaganda and it’s not something new to the series.

What are Katniss and Peeta doing for their entire games? Propagating their relationship because it gets them sponsors. Later in CF they have to keep up the image, spreading more falsehoods about their relationship, just to stay alive. Sotr was not the first hunger games book to feature propaganda but it was actively the worse use of it, because propaganda from real world experiences is usually sublet and plays on peoples emotions to get them to believe the falsehoods. What happened in sotr wasn’t propaganda it was erasure of information, which are two very different concepts that do not correlate together in the way that Collins is trying to portray them.

The games we see for Haymitch in CF were 100% the original vision and it’s very clear to me why she did not stick to it; because we already know what happened in his games and it’s boring to read the same thing twice. So she added a bunch of stuff and rewrote Haymitch (and Snow, because neither the Snow we saw in bosas or the og would be ranting about his high school crush to a tribute or making rookie poisoning mistakes) to make the story feel fuller, but it came at a cost to already established lore. I think sotr could have been exactly the same as what we were showing in CF but it shouldn’t have only been his games. The original concept could have been entertaining and original if she wrote only a portion, literally like six chapters at most about the games, and then everything else about his life afterwards and the next few years of tributes. I know why the book is the way that it is, but it doesn’t make it magically good or excuse it for being poorly written. Personally I never wanted a Haymitch book because I knew something like this could happen, which is the same reason I don’t want a Finnick book, neither of them work because we don’t actually care about the games themselves do we? Sure 48 kids is an interesting concept for a game, but it was barely used to its full potential in sotr. What I think people were actually more curious about was Haymitch’s deterioration, which we got in a half asssed way, because we knew he spent majority of the game itself on his own so we never would have gotten to know the other tributes properly regardless. But let me ask you now, what would you actually want to see: Finnick being in the arena and winning the games, somehow as a 14 year old despite the fact that we know he’s from a career district and it would be unlikely that nobody volunteered for him? Or what happened afterwards with Snow selling him as an escort and Finnick eventually finding love with Annie, maybe seeing how he gets pulled into the rebellion because he has a lot of good reasons to be in one? I know which one I’d pick and it will never be the one we get if it does happen.

As for the rebellion, I think we could have gotten a good buildup and set up for the early rebellion but again I don’t think it could ever be Haymitch, or at least not the way it was portrayed in sotr. The thing with rebellions however is they are unpredictable in their nature. They could take a few days to a few years to start. Katniss and Peeta almost killing themselves and almost leaving the capital without a victor is actually a very believable and frankly powerful spark to start a rebellion, as it was meant to be. I don’t doubt that the victors have all been talking between each other for years before that and contemplating an uprising, but the way it happened in sotr is laughable. Nobodies dies for trying to take down the capital: not Haymitch, not Beetee, not Mags, not Wiress, not Plutarch, and Snow knows about the whole thing. It’s so shrouded in plot armour it feels suffocating as a story, because there were no consequences.

[starkhvn]

Once again thinking about the probable instability during the reign of Sebastian's parents

[xxsabitoxx]

How JJK Men Eat Pussy 2.0

Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Yuta, Itadori, Megumi

Warnings: All characters are 18+, this post is explicit smut. As if you couldn’t tell that from the title

A/N: Funny story, I forgot I already wrote this same concept last year… but since I didn’t realize until I finished writing this… imma post it anyways. But if you’d like to see my original thoughts on this topic, you can see them here with an additional 2 characters lol

Gojo Satoru

He is relentless, especially when he’s in the mood to go down on you. These little moods of his will have him between your legs for hours, multiple times a day. You always like to joke that he knows when you’re ovulating because somehow these little moods seem to fall in sync. If Satoru goes more than three days without you, it’s like he’s going through withdrawals. He’s skilled with his tongue, he’s able to move it in ways and speeds you didn’t know a man could. Typically he’s a tease, he’ll edge you until you have an orgasm so pathetic you can’t even call it one. Ya know, the kinds where you come and don’t feel that satisfaction, just the pulsating ache of needing more. But recently, Satoru discovered how much more fun it is to overstimulate you. He loves the way your finger’s bury in his hair and try to tug him off as he sucks on your clit until you’re sobbing and begging him to ease up. He’ll keep your thighs spread wide, large hands effortlessly keeping them in place while they desperately try and close. He’s also the type to see those “pineapple make’s your cum sweet” articles and come home with enough pineapples to feed a village. He’s not even embarrassed about his reasoning, even if it’s just a myth, his sweet tooth can’t pass up the opportunity. Satoru loves your natural taste, but you surprised him with edible lubes in various fruity and sweet flavors one night… you still recall seeing the sun rise. 

Geto Suguru

He’s a god at eating pussy and you can’t convince me otherwise. Suguru has always been about your pleasure over his, not to say he doesn’t have his selfish moments, but your pleasure is just so much fun to him. He loves the noise, the facial expressions, the smell, the taste. The first time he went down on you, you were convinced he was lying about it being his first time. The ability just came naturally to Suguru. Like Satoru, Suguru loves to tease you. He’ll focus all of his attention on your dripping entrance, only stimulating your clit if his nose bumps it. He loves the way you squirm, his nails leaving crescent shaped nail marks in the plump flesh of your thighs as he holds you in place. He loves your breathless gasps, his long hair tickling your thighs as he eats you out, only adding to the stimulation that’s making your toes curl. Suguru loves to make you beg, pulling his mouth away from your cunt to just barely flick his tongue over your clit. He’ll stop all together just to taunt you until you’re sobbing, begging him to do something. He has a whole album on his phone dedicated to you, most of the content being videos of him eating you out, some he even made you take just so he could see the camera shake with your effort to keep it straight and hear your noises better. He puts on a show for you, slurping and sucking and moaning just to feel your thighs tremble as you moan with him. 

Nanami Kento

Eating you out is a stress reliever for Nanami… so it happens like very fucking day. Lord help me this man will spend hours edging you, cheek pressed into your thigh as he lazily licks and nips at your cunt. He can’t think about anything but you when he is between our legs, moaning and whining his name like a beautiful lullaby. He’ll let you cum eventually, but for the time being you are completely at his mercy. Nanami is the type to wake you up with his head between your legs, especially on nights where he comes home late and you’re already passed out in bed. He’ll make out with your cunt honestly, licking and sucking and nipping at your folds until he can’t tell if you’re wet from his saliva or your own arousal. The answer is both. He doesn’t care for any of the fancy shit, so don’t bother with flavored lubes or eating particular fruits to try and alter your taste, he just wants you and you alone. I feel like this man has a scent kink so the smell of your arousal honestly gets him going even more. He prefers eating you out in bed, mostly because he’s tired and nothing feels better to him than laying on his plush mattress while using your thighs as his pillow. He’s a whore for face sitting by the way, even less of his energy needs to be put into  that, especially when you’re grinding your cunt against his tongue. Nanami’s other favorite thing to do is use his tie to bind your wrists, that way you really can’t interrupt him.

Fushiguro Toji

I had to restart Toji’s so many times because I got too aggressive. Listen, this bummy ass bitch will eat you out till the sunrises and he will make a fucking mess of you while he does it. Toji will eat you out and finger fuck you until you’re screaming. He’ll give you a “break” by stuffing you full with his dick and then get back to work eating you out again after he blew his load in you. Filthy bitch. He’ll eat you out anytime, anywhere, any position. He’ll never turn down the opportunity and depending on your relationship with him, this bitch may even charge you for his services. Which is just another way he likes to tease you, watching you whine and squirm while you cough up the money he wants. He’ll call you pathetic as he gets on his knees and basically rips your underwear off of you, commenting the whole time about how much of a whore you are… like he ain’t selling his body to you rn. This man will somehow make you feel inferior, but you can’t be bothered when his tongue is lapping at your cunt like a starved man. Toji will make sure your thighs and your cunt are swollen, bruised, overstimulated, and sore by the time he’s done with you. Your cunt is puffy from his sucking and biting, thighs littered in dark marks and teeth indents. He'd go as far as to find a marker and write “cum dumpster” on you if he was really in the mood to see you sob.

Ryomen Sukuna

Listen, you thought Toji could be mean? Sukuna is ten times worse. The thing is, the king of curses actually likes to eat pussy but he won’t admit it. But that is not to say he can’t live without it, Sukuna is selfish and really only prefers things that pleasure him in the process. But, when you’re sobbing, pathetically begging him to go down on you, he may just crack. Especially if you’re looking at him with watery eyes, swollen lips from sucking him off, your neck littered with bite marks and bruises. Oh, and, if you’ve made him cum, he’s more likely to agree and indulge you. If you manage to convince the king of curses to go down on you, don’t expect him to be easy on you. His nails are digging into the flesh of your thighs, blood dripping slowly as he eats you out with so much force it’s borderline painful. He’s using his tongue and his teeth, nipping at your folds and even grazing your clit with them until he can tell your sobs are a breathless mix of pleasure and pain. If we’re talking true form Sukuna, I promise you he won’t stop until you’ve blacked out. He’ll use one set of arms to hold your waist while the other set keeps your thighs spread. He’s forcefully dragging your cunt over the long tongue that protrudes from his stomach, occasionally stopping just to hold you still as he spreads you open and stuffs you with the same tongue, watching you yelp and moan as he toys with you. 

Okkotsu Yuta

If you look up the definition of “pussy drunk” you’ll see a picture of Yuta. This man cannot go down on you without becoming delirious. Your body puts him in a trance, he can’t even explain the way you make him feel. Yuta is all about body worship and his favorite way to go about it is having his face shoved between your legs for hours. He’s just as vocal as you are while he eats you out, groaning and whining against your cunt until the vibrations are making your eyes roll back as you cum again. He’ll be kneading your thighs as he eats, squeezing them like stress balls and hitting nerves that send sparks of electricity all the way to your toes and all the way up to the base of your neck. Without even trying, Yuta will manage to overstimulate you until you’re unironically going cross-eyed, fingers twitching as they bury in his hair and try to pull him off so you can catch your breath. Yuta is still a bit shy when it comes to being intimate outside of the privacy of your home. But that doesn’t mean he won’t drag you into the nearest bathroom and eat you out against the bathroom stall. In this sense, he’s almost cocky when someone unknowingly enters the bathroom only to see two sets of feet in one of the stalls. Not to mention the noises are echoing. Yuta lives to see your eyes going wide from embarrassment as he doesn’t stop, your noises are uncontrollable as he tongue fucks you. The poor bastard who entered the bathroom with the intention of properly using it just muttered under their breath and walked out.

Itadori Yuji

Yuji is eager, so, so damn eager. He wants to do anything and everything that brings you pleasure so when it comes to eating you out, he’s determined to be great at it. Yuji is the type to ask you for “practice” or “lessons” which is just his way of indirectly asking if he can eat you out. Most of the time, it’s an offer you can’t refuse, because as fate would have it, Yuji isn’t bad at anything. He’s so praise focused, eyes glued to your face as he flicks his tongue along your folds and waits for you to tell him he’s doing good. He’ll slow down when your praise isn’t coming fast enough because he wants you to beg. Yuji is a sucker for adding fingers to the mix, as much as he loves making you cum with just his tongue, he sees no point in limiting your pleasure for his own confidence boost. Kind of contradictory since he likes when you beg. Yuji is also the type to wake you up with his head between your legs, just slowly lapping at your cunt while also rutting his hips into the mattress, trying to not wake you up until you’re coming. He finds it so pretty when you wake up gasping, completely unable to restrict any of your noises as you orgasm. It’s important to mention that Yuji is a sucker for 69-ing and face sitting, he loves, loves, feeling your plush thighs caging in his head. He can’t get enough of the way your body settles so nicely into him, no longer afraid of “suffocating him” by sitting all the way down on him.

Fushiguro Megumi

He won’t admit it but he loves to eat you out. Megumi is shy at heart so even if he’s been with you for years, he can still get embarrassed when telling you how badly he wants to go down on you. He’s focused when he does get between your legs, hands gripping your thighs or hips while his tongue laps greedily at your cunt. Megumi loves to tongue fuck you, just because he knows it’s not enough stimulation to make you cum but enough to make you embarrassingly wet. He’s a bit mean at first, not willing to let you come until he feels you’ve earned it. He’ll stop abruptly just to sink his teeth into your inner thighs, not stopping until you’re gasping as the pain turns bruising. He’ll admire the teeth indents he’s left on your skin while his nails are scratching down your other thigh, tongue moving to wiggle against your clit until your hips are bucking. Megumi finds toys to be very hit or miss, but he’s found a love for stuffing you with a vibrator while putting all of his attention on your clit. Megumi’s preferred method of “torture” depends on his mood, either he’ll edge you until you’re begging or overstimulate you until you’re crying. He’s very private when it comes to these things… unless he’s jealous. Much like Yuta, he will not hesitate to drag you somewhere private while out in public to remind you of who you belong to. 

[prythiansprincess]

i fear we need more like.. manipulation best friend enzo. maybe this time it’s his best friends sister? like theo’s twin sister who’s a gryffindor. 🙏🏻

— honey, are you coming?

NAVIGATION // inbox. tags. writing. library.

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader.

song inspiration: honey (are you coming?) by maneskin.

author’s note: ask and you shall receive. you guys know I can't say no to manipulative best friend! enzo. even better if he's being a sneaky little shit to get with his mate’s sister behind his back 🤭

forbidden.

that's what you were. as theo's twin sister, enzo was perfectly aware that you were off-limits, but no amount of threats from his best mate could ever keep him away from you. the temptation was too strong and enzo simply couldn't resist.

enzo always got what he wanted.

and what he wanted was you.

so he bided his time. enzo knew that theo would never let him near his precious baby sister unless he played the part. the protective best friend: a confidante, a companion, and a constant shadow that threatened bodily harm to any prat stupid enough to even breathe the same air as you.

this little act of his worked like a charm. over time, theo wrote enzo off as harmless. your older brother let his guard down enough for him to find an opening. soon, the two of you became inseperable. you confided in him. you told him your thoughts, your fears, your insecurities. enzo knew anything and everything about you.

you trusted him.

theo trusted him.

everything was going according to plan.

"my brother has officially lost it! I mean, the audacity of him to ban me from dating when he has a new girl in his bed every other night is beyond me." you ranted, pacing back and forth in enzo's dorm. "he's such a fucking hypocrite."

"you know he means well," enzo consoled, his brows furrowing in concern. "theo may not show it in the best way, but he's just trying to be a good brother."

you rolled your eyes. "you always take his side."

"that's not true and you know it. i'm always on your side, honey," enzo drawled, reaching out to rub your hands between his. "in this case, though, I can hardly blame theo. I mean, what the hell was mclaggen thinking when he asked you out? he's not good enough for you."

"you say that about every guy that asks me out, enz."

enzo looked up, his warm brown eyes meeting yours. "because it's true," he declared. "no one will ever be good enough for you."

you sighed. "this is exactly why i'm convinced that i'm going to die alone."

"you won't be alone," enzo said cheerfully. "you'll have me."

you rolled your eyes fondly, but softened as enzo tugged you between his legs. "now come over here, pretty girl. I think you just need a good cuddle to help you get sorted."

enzo watched as you climbed in beside him. his quidditch jersey that you had claimed long ago barely reached the top of your thighs and as the fabric skimmed your soft skin, he couldn't help but feel ridiculously jealous of the article of clothing for having the privilege of touching you.

but he'd soon rectify that.

you squealed as enzo pulled you closer, pressing your back into his solid chest. behind you, enzo hummed in satisfaction as you cuddled closer. his large hands gripped your hips while he positioned you right where he wanted you. with your arse pressed against his front, enzo released a throaty groan that made you shiver.

"are you cold, honey?" enzo whispered, his voice a dark and seductive caress.

you barely managed a nod before enzo's large hands traveled underneath the hem of your shirt, his warm touch making contact with your soft and supple skin. the callouses on his hands felt rough in contrast, but you found that you really didn't mind. you just wanted him to touch you more.

"you're freezing, sweetheart," enzo drawled. "do you want me to warm you up?"

"y—yes please."

enzo caressed your thighs, kneading and massaging your legs as you melted into his touch. you sighed in satisfaction as he shifted, dragging his hands higher and tracing circles on your hips. the skin to skin contact felt so good, but you wanted more. you needed more.

as if reading your mind, enzo flattened his palm against your stomach, burying his nose in your neck as you hummed in approval. the two of you had always been touchy and affectionate, but he was well aware that he was currently walking a very fine line. your reaction encouraged him to push a little further as he brushed his knuckles against your ribs and teased right below your bra.

enzo toyed with the hook of your bra. "do you want me to take this off?" he asked innocently. "I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable, honey."

you blinked, face heating as his words settled in. "o —okay, enz."

the swiftness in which enzo unhooked your bra had you reeling. you only realized it was off when he carelessly tossed it behind his shoulder. squirming in anticipation, you felt a familiar ache building within you as enzo continued stroking your back. his knuckles traced a line down your spine, your frustrations mounting as he touched you everywhere except right where you wanted him.

you whined as enzo kissed your shoulder. “enz…”

“yes, honey?”

“I — I want…”

“what is it, pretty girl? use your words. you know i’ll do anything you ask.”

you barely had time to think before the words slipped out. “touch me, please.”

the neediness dripping from your lips made enzo smirk. this was exactly what he planned. “where do you want me to touch you, sweetheart?”

enzo moved his hand higher and cupped your tit. “here?”

you groaned as he slid his hand down to your arse before squeezing gently. “or maybe here?”

your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head when he slipped his hand down your panties, palming your warmth as he trailed kisses down your neck. “right here?”

enzo circled your clit, eliciting a shameless moan from your lips. “I think I found the spot.”

as he rubbed the sensitive bundle of nerves, you arched into his palm, eager for friction. “spread your legs, sweetheart,” he whispered before gently nibbling on your ear lobe.

you teetered somewhere between pleasure and logic. the voice in the back of your mind expressed its concern despite your desire to ignore it and give in. “enz — I don’t think — we shouldn’t do this.”

“why not?”

you turned to find enzo looking at you, his warm honey eyes now sharp with lust. “because we’re friends,” you reasoned. “best friends.”

“so? who better to get you off than me? I know you like the back of my hand and I’d like to make you see heaven with my fingers.” enzo paused, scanning your face. “unless you don’t want that.”

“I — I do. but what if my brother finds out? he’d kill you.”

“don’t worry, pretty girl. theo will never find out. i’ll take good care of you.” enzo teased your slit and licked a stripe along your neck. “now spread those fucking legs for me, honey.”

you obliged, spreading your legs wide as enzo filled you with his fingers. your pussy squelched as you sucked him right in, covering him in your juices as he fingered you relentlessly. as warmth spread in your core, you chased after the feeling and rode his hand.

“that’s it, sweetheart. ride my fingers just like that. use me to get yourself off. that’s what friends are for, right?”

“best friends,” you responded cheekily.

“best friends,” enzo repeated before making you cum all over his fingers.

you hadn’t even recovered from the first orgasm before he brought you to the edge again, soaking his hand with your juices as you gripped his bicep and left nail marks in your wake.

enzo grabbed your chin and gave you a dirty, filthy kiss as he tugged your soaked panties off. as he pulled his boxers down, you gasped at the hardness pressed against your arse. you wanted him so bad you felt fucking dizzy with the force of it, but the worries couldn’t help but linger.

“wait, enz — what if this ruins our friendship? what if things are never the same again?”

enzo pulled back and stroked your cheek. “i’d never let that happen, honey. don’t you trust me? I always take care of you, don’t I?”

“of course I trust you.”

“do you want me as bad as I want you?”

“fuck yes. obviously. I just —“

“you just need to stop overthinking things,” enzo countered. “if it makes you feel better, I’ll only put the tip in. nothing less, nothing more. I promise, sweetheart.”

you bit your lip as he teased his tip between your folds. “okay. just the tip, right?”

“mhm,” enzo said as he pushed past your folds. “just the tip, honey.”

even with his slow and shallow thrusts, you could feel your pussy stretching to take more. enzo cursed as your warmth hugged around him, warm and welcoming, beckoning him further in.

“fuck, you feel so good. been dreaming about this for so long, y/n.”

the way he slid the tip of his cock in and out of you was torturous. you clawed at his arms, gasping and moaning as your pussy clenched. now that you knew what enzo felt like, you wanted more. you wanted all of him.

“enz, oh gods. I need more. please.”

enzo smirked. “yeah? you want your best friend to stuff you full? gonna beg for my cock, sweetheart?”

“yes, yes, please. I need you to fill me up. wanna feel all of you, baby.”

without a word, enzo flipped you over and positioned you in his lap. he laid back on his pillow and watched with lust blown eyes as you lowered yourself on his cock. every delicious inch filled you to the hilt, stuffing you full in the best way possible.

biting your lip, you began to rock your hips to a steady rhythm. you gasped as enzo tugged you down to him, his lips crashing against yours in desperation. his moans were shameless as you bounced on him. enzo squeezed your arse as you picked up the pace, riding him hard and fast.

“take it, honey. it’s yours.”

“oh god, enzo i’m gonna cum —“

enzo held your hips in place and thrust up, fucking into you as his thumb circled your clit. “come on, pretty girl. give it to me. cum all over my cock.”

his filthy words broke you, sending a wave of pleasure that nearly knocked you off kilter. enzo fucked you through the orgasm, his warm honey eyes sticky and golden as he drank in the sight of you losing control. he didn’t stop even when you creamed him from base to tip.

instead, enzo flipped you on your back and continued pumping in and out of you. “don’t wanna stop, honey. you feel too fucking good. I could do this forever. tell me I can, baby. tell me I can fuck you any time I want.”

“oh fuck,” you moaned. “yes, yes, gods. you can fuck me whenever and wherever, enzo.”

“that’s right, honey. I don’t give a fuck what your brother says. he’ll never find out anyways. this’ll be our little secret, right?”

dazed, you licked your lips and nodded as enzo hiked your leg over his shoulder and thrusted deeper. “our little secret.”

[hannieehaee]

Hiii i love your writing sm that is always look forward to anything you write . Pls remember to take care of yourself .

Imagine chan having a younger s/o , doting on her , taking care of her protecting her 😭😭😭😭 it would be so cute

them having a younger s/o

content: small age gap between reader and member, established relationship, etc.

wc: 1056

a/n: thank u hehe u take care too!! <3 also i wrote this assuming the age gap is nothing too crazy!! just something like 3-5 year difference for hyung line and 2-3 year difference for maknae line c:

masterlist

seungcheol -

he was MADE to dote on and care for a younger s/o. his credit card would literally be your own. his home would be yours. would treat you akin to kkuma in the sense that he'd coo at you incessantly any time he was away from you for more than a few hours and would love dressing you up in cute outfits to match his own (in a low-key, fashionable way, of course). he'd adore a younger s/o because he'd feel like he could really provide for you with both his wealth and wisdom.

jeonghan -

being the one of the elders of the group and having a younger sister, he's literally been trained for a younger s/o. im completely convinced he'd adoooore a younger s/o that he could dote on and baby in every possible instance. he'd use his preschool teacher voice on you all the time and coo at you so much that you'd literally have to beg him to stop. at some point he'd start doing it just to annoy you lmao.

joshua -

tbh i feel like he would be kinda indifferent about you being younger than him, but would still acknowledge it at times. would coo at you and baby you in exaggerated manners to tease you over being younger than him. but! this would just be a veiled way for him to take care of you.

jun -

how is he supposed to baby you when he's the embodiment of baby himself? however, the creator of the aegyo cat set would still manage to coo at you and attack you with constant aegyo to show his affections towards you. all in all, though, i think he would be a lil indifferent about you being younger than him. maybe it'd inspire a little extra protectiveness from him, making him always keep you close to him in public spaces and use his massive shoulders to shield you from crowds or any danger.

soonyoung -

he'd baby you at times but for the most part would be pretty indifferent about being older than you. however! he would let his childish/immature side come out more often while around you, reasoning that you brought out his more youthful side. would probably match your energy at all times. he'd 100% use the 'im older than you' card to try and win arguments/disputes (it wouldnt work).

wonwoo -

absolutely endeared by you!!! have you seen the way he looks at chan? if you were around chan's age, he'd give you the chan treatment but a thousand times over. would cackle at any joke you made, always keep his adoring gaze on you, bring you snacks even when you didnt ask for them, make space for you on his lap whenever he played games or watched movies. you'd be his baby.

jihoon -

he'd try to hold back for a while, but he'd eventually break and feel an instinctive need to take care of you in a way he would a younger member. even if you were a very independent and self-reliant person, he would still take care of you in his own low-key way. would make sure you always had all your meals, make space for you in his studio and provide you entertainment so you could accompany him in there in the long hours of the night. he'd feel a special type of love for you knowing he could dote on you so freely.

seokmin -

he'd be obsessed with you!!!! would baby you constantly and take care of you in every way imaginable. youd also kinda activate his cuteness aggression without him realizing. he'd wanna be the one and only man to protect you and become a rock for you to rely on. would feel happy and proud to be a person you trusted and someone you could look to whenever you needed.

mingyu -

yet another member who would go insane over being older than you and use it as an excuse to baby you at any given opportunity. would treat you like loyalty and would act as if it was a crime if you ever did mundane stuff on your own instead of allowing him to do it for you. walking to the other side of the room? why when he can just piggy back you there!! packing your own lunch in the morning? nope! he's cooking you a whole meal!

minghao -

ive always felt like he'd go for someone younger just for the traditional aspect of it (idk i have no basis for this belief lmao just a hunch). he'd enjoy playing the role of the dependable boyfriend with a younger s/o to provide for and dote on. it'd just bring him a special type of satisfaction to know that you could look to him as a reliable source of comfort. would be the ideal boyfriend and take care of all your expenses and all your emotional needs.

seungkwan -

he'd be so damn overbearing in the way he took care of you im ngl. would keep tabs on your meals to make sure you had all your meals every day, would push vitamins on you, and just have huge concern for your health overall. he'd also feel insane cuteness aggression for you at the most random times, becoming overly affectionate and expressing how cute he thought you were (even if your age gap was teeny tiny).

vernon -

gives me the vibe that he wouldnt really care if you were older or younger. however, seeing the way he dotes on his little sister and gets along with her, i think he'd be similar with a younger s/o. wouldnt really bring up your age difference much but would still use it as the butt of jokes or use it as an excuse to take care of you at times in which he just felt a little extra affectionate towards you.

chan -

as the youngest, he'd love the idea of him being able to baby someone for once (ik he has a younger brother ok). would use the 'im older than you' line to death and be so fucking annoying about it. however, he would also feel satisfied knowing he was a dependable figure in your life who could take care of you in the same ways his members always took care of him.

[waitingonher]

NIGHTS LIKE THESE — [hoo boys drabbles]

summary: how they react to your bad dreams.

author's note: i wrote leo's + jason's part imagining that the cabins/barracks have individual rooms sooo...also ik this trope is so ran through in the pjo fandom but it's just toooo good i couldn't help myself

percy jackson

percy has always been the type of person to pick up the phone no matter the time. even as he’s on a lone movie marathon and the scene reaches its long-anticipated climax, he’s reaching for his buzzing phone that’s lost beneath the sheets. having found it after the third ring, percy checks the time and the caller id. why are you calling him so late? he answers, “hi babe. i thought you had to wake up early this morning, why are you awake?” 

“hi percy,” your voice was shaky and congested, as if you’d been crying. percy immediately sits up, alarmed at the state of your voice, “did i wake you up?” 

“no, no, i was up watching movies. what’s wrong? is everything okay?” he’s seated at the edge of his bed now, anxiously awaiting your response. 

you force him to sit in silence as you think of an excuse, “yeah, um…i’m okay. i just wanted to hear your voice. but i’ll see you on thursday, okay? goodni-” 

“(y/n), what’s going on?” percy runs a hand through his hair as he heads out of his room to his kitchen. he rips off a napkin from the roll and snatches a pen from the drawer. on the napkin, he writes a brief message to sally, saying that he’d be over at your place and not to worry. 

“nothing. i’m fine, percy,” you mutter. but your boyfriend knows you too well. the way your voice quivers makes it sound as though you were trying to convince yourself that everything was okay, and you were failing miserably. 

percy places his phone between his ear and shoulder as he ties his shoes, “don’t leave me in the dark, (y/n).” 

“don’t worry about me. i’m fine it was just-” 

“babe, i’m coming over, okay?” and with that, percy hangs up. 

he’s walked this path over a hundred times, usually for dropping you off after dates or simply for hanging out with you. but this time, all percy can think about is how you sounded over the phone and that he needs to seriously pick up the pace. 

upon arrival, percy climbs up the fire escape ladder as quickly and quietly as possible. it’s only now that he’s grateful for his experience from all of those laborious quests. reaching your floor, he knocks delicately on the glass. 

“percy, what are you doing here?” you ask after he closes your window, “i’m sorry, you really didn’t need to come all this way. it’s like three in the morning and you-” 

your boyfriend silences you with a gentle kiss, “i’m okay. it’s you i’m worried about. what’s wrong?” 

“it was just a dream.” 

“just a dream?”

“yes, it was just a stupid dream.” 

percy grabs your shoulders, forcing you to look at him, “(y/n), you’re one of the strongest people i know. so if you were crying over it, then it really must be something.” 

you slump on your bed, and percy joins beside you. it's no use hiding it from percy, so with a sigh, you confess, “well, you’re here now. but it just felt so real,” your eyes begin to prick with tears again, “you were laying on the floor…and there was just so much blood, and i tried to stop it—i really did try—but it just kept coming and there was nothing else i could do.” 

honestly, percy didn’t know what to say. but he did know that if your dream was anything like the ones he had about you, they were emotionally and physically crushing. so, he decides that if he can’t say anything, he’d rather show you. percy gently guides your body, until the both of you are laying down. with a strong arm wrapped around your figure and the other rubbing slow circles on your back, he can only hope you understand the message he’s trying to convey. 

“i’m here, (y/n). everything’s going to be okay,” percy continues to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. slowly but surely, your crying mellows into only soft sniffles. 

as you lay on his chest, you can feel the rise and fall of his breathing body. it wasn’t at all like that dream of yours; his cold body eerily still on the floor. not at all like that. you allow yourself to slowly drift off with the rise and fall of his chest, strangely as if it were its own lullaby, “thank you, percy,” you manage to whisper. 

“i love you, (y/n). i’m not leaving you, ever. i promise,” percy whispers back. 

leo valdez

leo’s used to waking up several times in the middle of the night. considering the demigod dreams, he hasn’t remembered the last time he’s gotten a full night's rest, which is why he’s not surprised to be awake at the crisp hour of two a.m. he can’t even remember the dream this time, but leo bets it was another dream foreseeing his imminent death or the end of the world. 

as he stares at the pipes and wires running along the ceiling of bunker 9, a familiar ringtone sounds from his phone. leo quickly wipes the sleep from his eyes and picks up the phone from his nightstand, “(y/n)? are you okay? it’s so late.” 

there’s a silence, followed up by quiet sniffles. were you crying? “hi leo, i’m sorry i probably woke you up didn’t i? go back to sleep, i was-” 

“no i was already awake, what’s wrong?” the moment your boyfriend noticed your shaky voice, his attitude completely changed. suddenly awake and full of energy, he tears off his blanket and reaches for his hoodie and shoes.

considering the fact that you never really call so late alarms him. you calling either meant that you had a nightmare or you were hurt…and leo prayed it was the dream. 

“i’m sorry…” you take a deep breath, “i just had a bad dream, like one of those dreams, you know?” leo knows all too well what you’re talking about, and if it’s anything close to the dreams he has, he can only imagine what you’re feeling, “but i swear i’m okay now. i’ll see you later?” 

but leo’s already out the door as you finish your explanation, “i’m coming over, stay there.” 

“wait leo-” 

he hung up. 

the trek through the forest was usually something one would avoid, especially at this hour, but leo couldn't give less of a shit as he thinks about you crying in your room. a few minutes later after practically sprinting to your cabin, he arrives. locating the window to your room was easy, he’d done this several times before for your sleepovers. leo knocks as quietly as he can on the glass, hoping he doesn’t disturb any of your other siblings. 

surprised, you pull your curtain aside and are face to face with none other than your boyfriend. he looks sweaty and out of breath. leo ran all this way? pushing your question to the side, you rush to open the window and let him in. 

for the first time, leo really gets a good look at you. your eyes are red and puffy; you look at him with such desperation and he can’t help but pull you into a rib-cracking hug. 

“you actually came.” 

“what? of course i did, (y/n),” he takes your face into his hands, rubbing soft circles on each cheek. suddenly, tears begin to flow freely down your face. was it something he said? was he not supposed to come? 

you pick up on his confusion, “i’m sorry, i’m just…glad you’re alive,” leo sits you on your bed, and continues to wipe away the tears, his concern growing with each passing second. your boyfriend urges you to go on, “it’s just the same thing every night. i’m at your grave on the hill, and i’m all alone and it’s raining and i just-” 

“(y/n), breathe,” leo pulls you into his chest once more. he holds you so impossibly tight, ensuring that you know he’s there and he doesn’t plan to ever leave. his sacrifice during the final battle against gaia will forever be amongst one of leo’s biggest regrets. not because he had saved the world, but because of how hard it impacted you. without a doubt, you could easily say that those months where leo was gone were the hardest times of your life. and not a day goes by where leo thinks he can ever forgive himself for it, “i’m here. i’m alive.” 

you nod, your sobs turning into quiet hiccups. leo moves the two of you guys to be laying down, and as final reassurance, he gently guides your hand under his hoodie, allowing you to feel his steady heartbeat. your boyfriend’s skin is warm to the touch and you count his heartbeat…one…two…three. and that was proof enough, “you’re alive.” 

“i am,” leo soothes. he places a gentle kiss atop your head and pulls the covers over your bodies. his arms wrap tightly around your figure, holding you close, “sleep, (y/n). i’ll be here in the morning.”

jason grace

it’s late nights like these that jason has slowly come to appreciate. these scarce nights where he’s completed his praetor duties for the night and he allows himself to indulge in some self-care, which usually consists of a cup of hot herbal tea and a good book. 

usually, jason prefers historical books, oftentimes concerning roman myths or the occasional diary of some war general. what can he say? he likes to be all-knowing when it comes to these things. but this time, as he’s curled up in his bed, he reaches for the book that you had recommended to him: a classic romance novel. jason laughs to himself as he recalls you teasing him about his taste in literature. if he remembers correctly, you called him a “history-loving freak?” 

just as jason’s about to open the book, an unexpected ringing sounds from his phone. he huffs, momentarily disapointed. that is, until he sees who’s calling, “(y/n)? hi, are you okay?” 

“oh, hi,” jason noticed the way your voice sounded off, like you’d been crying, “i didn’t think you’d actually answer.” 

confused, he puts the book back on his nightstand, “of course i would, my love. what’s going on? you sound like you’ve been crying.” 

“no, everything’s okay i just…” you pause, “had a bad dream, so i wanted to listen to your voicemail.”

jason’s heart squeezes at the thought of you going so far as to listen to his own ten second voicemail as a method of comfort. but the feeling goes away just as quickly as it came upon hearing you had a nightmare, “oh i’m sorry, my love. do you want me to come over?” 

“no,” you reply, “it’s okay. i’m better now that i’ve heard your voice. you can go back to bed, jason.” 

despite you declining his offer, jason’s already up and putting his shoes on, “i’ll be there in a few, okay? i love you,” and he hangs up. 

within a handful of minutes, jason reaches your cohort’s barracks. the square windows look impossibly similar, but it’s all thanks to practice that he recognizes yours. even as praetor, he still has to enforce the rules and sneak around. with a quiet knock on your window, he waits in the dark for you. 

“you’re here. you’re alive, jason,” is all you can muster up as your boyfriend stands tall inside your room. his expression is clearly written with worry as he closes the gap between you with a hug. as hard as you tried to fight it, the tears came again in a fresh wave. 

“yeah, i’m here, (y/n). i’m not leaving,” he replies, concern laced in his words. jason notices your tears and gently wipes them away, “c’mere, tell me about your dream,” he beckons, guiding you towards the bed. with a gentle plop, he settles down and opens his arms, inviting you to join him.

settling against jason’s chest, you take a shaky breath as he places kisses on your temple, “i was at your funeral, and you looked so peaceful, like you were sleeping. i just can’t stop thinking about how you looked asleep. and then they expected me to, you know, give a speech in front of the entire camp about you, and i just…i can’t imagine a world without you, so please, you can’t leave me like that.” 

“woah, woah, (y/n) i’m okay, breathe,” jason hushes you, rubbing soft circles on your arm. to be frank, he’s pretty shocked about what you had just said. he can’t get over how shaken up you are by this. but jason can’t even blame you, because if it were him who had the dream, he bets he would also be like this, “i’m here and i have no plan of ever leaving, okay? i’m afraid you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life,” he jokes, hoping to get at least a smile from you. 

jason’s joke succeeds as he feels your body shake with a quiet giggle, “good. i wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

your boyfriend checks your face once more, ensuring that you’ve stopped crying. seeing that you have, he places delicate kisses on each cheek, “hey, how about we go to sleep now? i’ll read you that book,” jason motions to the book on your nightstand, which happens to be the same one you recommended him. 

you nod tiredly, “only if you do different voices for each character.” 

“of course, only for you,” jason quips. 

after adjusting your bodies, jason reaches for the book and opens it to chapter one. but before he begins, he pulls the covers completely over your body and places a chaste kiss on your forehead, “i love you so much, (y/n). and i hope you know that i’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

[wandasfavv]

Make You Mine

Wanda x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ummm stepmom Wanda being upset with you for hosting a birthday party and not listening to her??

Idkkk this is my first time writing anything SO PLEASE just give me chance. I’m not really sure what I’m doing but like it’s something and I wrote this in one sitting. So please ignore any mistakes I made

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Stepmom!Wanda x Fem!Reader, alcohol, intoxicated r, non/con, somnophilia, mommy kink, oral(r receiving), jealousy, mentions of straight relationship, just Wanda being pervy

The floor trembled under you as music played obnoxiously through the speakers. You had the house to yourself and since it was your 21st birthday, you hosted a party at your house. There was around twenty people or so that you invited, having known them from college or even before.

With the promises of causing no trouble and being good, your father decided to give you permission to celebrate with your friends. Your step mom on the other hand, not so much.

“Y/N no, I told you already I don’t want you and your friends making a mess in the house that I know you’re not going clean,” Wanda said sternly as she set the dirty dishes in the sink. It was so rare for the older woman to ever let you do anything surrounding your friends. Despite being an adult, she’s always treated you as if you were a kid who never knew how to take care of yourself, and you hated it. Here she was doing that exact thing.

“I promise I’ll clean everything, Wanda. Just let me,” you responded, helping her clean up the table from dinner just to prove a point. She sighed before looking back up and at you, her expression displaying a displeasured look. You, being persistent, kept trying. Begged even as you put on a pleading face. “Please, I’ll do check ins and make sure nothing breaks or anything.”

Wanda found herself amused at your attempt of convincing her, the use of ‘please’ being sorta cute. However, you breaking stuff or making messes weren’t her actual concerns. She just didn’t trust you with your friends.

There were so many nights where she’d catch you trying to sneak out with them, sometimes not being able to and waking up to see you in the morning covered with marks and hickies from whatever. It made her feel an itch whenever she saw you unawarely show off anything that didn’t come from her. Plus, she was always worried about your friends taking advantage over you and making you do stuff she just thought you shouldn’t be doing. And now that you’re planning on a party where’d you be unsupervised, and possibly going to be doing more of these things, she just couldn’t bear the thought.

“For the last time. No-“

“Hey come on it’s fine. Let the kid do what she wants, it’s her 21st birthday,” your father intervened, not noticing the anger and frustration on his wife’s face. He smiled at you, and went his way to Wanda through the kitchen, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s just take it as a chance to go on a date or something.”

The sight of him touching her and the word ‘date’ coming out of his mouth made your stomach churn. You didn’t know why though. Sure there were moments you found Wanda attractive and pretty even, but she was like a little less than twice your age and married to your father. It’d be weird to like her in any way like that. Right…?

“Well, thanks dad. I’ll go ahead and do it then,” you replied, your voice sounding taunting to Wanda as you glared up at her.

Excusing yourself, you went to your bedroom, trying to get the picture of the two out of your head. But before leaving, you noticed how Wanda somewhat pushed him away gently.

Back to the party, there you were taking shots and drinks down your throat like you’ve had before. Since you were now legally able to drink alcohol, everyone brought some combined with any that you found in the cabinets. You knew Wanda would probably be mad at you for taking some, but at least you left her favorite wine.

After a couple hours of playing games and enjoying your time letting the drunk feeling sink in, people began to leave, saying bye as they departed and said their birthday wishes to you. It was around 1am at this point, and you knew your dad and Wanda would be back soon. Though, you could barely see anything as you walked. After taking so much of the burning liquor and not considering the consequences, you felt completely sick and out of it, obviously not remembering your promises of cleaning up. Your phone was no where to be found and you had no clue about Wanda’s concerns.

Your last couple of friends helped you with a little bit of trash, picking up only after themselves however, and leaving most of it to you. Feeling lightheaded, you found your way to your room as you held onto the walls, plopping down on the bed once you were in as if you weren’t on the verge of throwing up. As you laid down comfortably, your eyes became heavy, leading you into a deep sleep in which you didn’t hear the car driving and parking onto the driveway.

Wanda came into the house, already prepared to yell at you after you didn’t answer her calls from earlier. She walked over the cups and napkins left on the floor toward your room, expecting you to be up and just ‘busy’ doing anything but cleaning like you said. But instead, she walked into you passed out on your bed, still in your uncomfortable clothing as you reeked of alcohol. She once again sighed out in irritation, not sure if she should be shouting at you or your father for letting you host a stupid a party.

She takes a few steps towards you, reaching her hand out to gently push the loose strand of hair from your face as you slept at the edge. Wanda couldn’t help but smile at your cute sleeping antics though, noticing your eyebrows create an indent in between and your nose twitch. Picking you up with her unusual strength, she put you into bed correctly, placing your head onto the soft pillow lightly. She paused for a moment thinking about her next move as she realized again the clothes you were wearing. They were revealing and provocative, something you’d never proudly wear in front of her or your father. Wanda bit her bottom lip, not knowing whether she should do what she’s thinking, but she did it anyway.

Slowly, she put her hands at the hem of your short top, trying her best to take it off you without you waking. She just didn’t want you to sleep in uncomfortable clothing, that’s all… Successfully pulling it off, she threw it down on the floor. Her eyes trailed down to your chest, which was still covered with your bra. She blushed a bit, finding your body beautiful yet so tempting her eyes then made their way to your bottom half, contemplating if it was a good idea to take your pants off too.

The sound of your father’s voice shook the thought out of her head. He called her name, wondering if everything was okay as the house was quiet, which wasn’t usual if it was Wanda yelling at you. She quickly got out of your room, hoping she wouldn’t be caught doing anything inappropriate with her husband’s daughter and went to her own bedroom, now ignoring the mess that surrounded her through the halls.

After about an hour, Wanda came back into your room. Just to check on you, maybe. She cleaned herself up, taking off any of the makeup she put on for the date she was just on, which was really just her having to suffer through pretending to enjoy whatever it was that they did. She was dressed in simple pajamas, just a shirt and shorts, and even then she looked perfect. Her oblivious husband was asleep now as well, and she took it as her chance to go back to your unconscious state. Walking gingerly to the side of the bed that you were on, she turned on the light on your nightstand and stared at your body again, thinking about taking off your pants like earlier. This time she did do it. Her hands went to the top of them, tugging them down with barely any force. Now leaving with you in only your undergarments, she found herself immersed in your entire being, her hand trailing down your body.

“Fuck, what am I doing…” Wanda whispered to herself as she bit the inside of her cheek in nervousness. You shifted in response to her touch, still in deep sleep as you unknowingly made her lose her composure. A soft groan left her mouth as you turned onto your side and had your back face her, exposing your ass. Looking back at the door and you, Wanda came to the conclusion that neither you or your father would be waking up anytime soon, so she crawled into bed with you on the other side, going under the cold sheets.

She’s never interacted with you with touch before, maybe just a couple hugs and light touches to your lower back, but never more as she didn’t really want to risk and indulge in anything. But seeing you now, your unconscious body, which wouldn’t know what’s about to happen, made her yearn for more.

Her hand made its way back to your face, cupping your cheek that’s faced up unlike the other which was adorably squished against the pillow. She leaned down placing a feather light kiss to your forehead to test you and to see if you really were heavily asleep. And you were. Receiving the green light to go further, her lips went father down to your nose, then to your mouth. Not caring if you were unconscious and intoxicated, she gently pushed her lips against yours, letting out a soft moan as she finally got to kiss you like she’s dreamt of from so many nights where she’d wake up with a mess in between her legs. Her hand went down to your waist, and squeezed it just a bit, but the action made you squirm and part from the kiss, once again turning and facing your back to Wanda.

Disappointed to not see your face, she breathed out. She still kept her hands on you though, wrapping an arm around your midsection and pulling you toward her body. She put her face into your neck, taking in your scent that remained besides the alcohol. “God, I need you so bad baby,” Wanda mumbled behind your ear. Her fingers from her other hand came up to unclip your bra, freeing your chest and allowing her to grope your breasts, still lightly as she wanted you to stay asleep. Her perverted actions were so different compared to how she’d usually behave around you.

Your body responded to her many ways as she touched you. You pushed your ass against her front, your panties being the only thing separating her from touching your father down. She groaned again at this, as if your body subconsciously wanted her to fuck you. And once a small and barely audible whimper escaped from your lips, she lost it. Her head spun from the way you acted, forcing her to find ways to control herself from just pinning you down and having her way with you. She bit down on your lower neck, making you once again let out another noise of disturbance.

“So needy even when you’re sleeping… fuck, I can’t stand you,” she said quietly against your skin, biting her lip and moving her hand down your tummy and further to your center. Her fingers reached the band of your underwear, causing her to huff out in annoyance of it being there still. Being a little less gentle, she tugged it down and immediately cupped your cunt. It was kinda rough as she desperately wanted to feel you. Her fingers went through your folds, collecting your wetness. Then, she reached up to her lips to taste you as she put them in her mouth, sucking your arousal off. She moaned, and already in love with how you tasted she wanted more of it.

Her body moved down, removing the sheets off of you and her. The soft yellow glow from the light on your body mesmerized her as she positioned herself between your legs. Parting them, she bent down and put her arm underneath your thighs before having them in a tight hold with her hands gripping the smooth flesh there. Wanda looked up at your sleeping self, admiring your beauty as her lip quivered from need with your pussy just centimeters away from her mouth. She stuck her tongue out, gently licking up and between your folds, up your clit. Your body quickly began to stir, and your eyes were forced shut as you turned your head. Wanda stopped momentarily, waiting for you to settle.

Once you stopped moving, she started to move her tongue against you again. Switching between licking around your sensitive nub and entering your cunt with her tongue, she moaned at how sweet you were, making her hold on you tighter to the point where light bruises were to form. Another small whimper mixed with a moan left your mouth as Wanda hit a particular spot within you. Your hips jerked up, and this only caused her to move roughly against and in your pussy. “Mm, waited so long to make you mine…”

Now that she was lost in pleasuring you and herself, you began to wake up from the slight aggressive movements. Your eyes opened, squinting from the bright light beaming beside your face. Confused, you closed your eyes again before recognizing a feeling between your thighs. Wanda noticed you waking up, no longer caring and actually glad you were. As you looked down you saw her face covered in your wetness mixed with her own saliva. Your jaw dropped from both shock and pleasure as she continued moving her tongue in and out of your increasingly soaked center. “W-Wanda..?” You shakily spoke, reaching down to her head, only to be stopped as her hands took yours and pinned them down beside your thighs.

“Shh… just let mommy take you, okay?” She said, noticing the way your hips bucked up against her face from the name she used for herself. “You’ve been so bad, you know that? You know how upset you made me, leaving a mess outside… and hanging out with all your dumb little friends…” she said lowly against your pussy, the vibrations of her voice making you moan and tilt your head back. Her mind shifted back to previous days at the mention of your friends. “So fucking annoying, coming home with all those marks on you and from who huh? Do they fuck you better than me baby?”

The constant questions and use of cuss words turned you on further as you never had nor expected Wanda to talk to you like this. Your mind was still hazy too, from just waking up and the after effects of drinking too much. “No… no m-mommy no,” you gasped, dumbly shaking your head. Wanda moaned, hearing you say her preferred term and getting drunk off your sounds. Her grip on your hands were now even tighter matching yours as you got closer to your orgasm.

Your moaning got louder as well, somewhat worrying Wanda as she didn’t want this time with you ruined by your dad waking up. So letting go of one of your hands, she reached up and covered your mouth, the pressure being harsh. Your noises were only muffled sounds of pleasure, still arousing to hear to Wanda. “Shut up sweetie, you don’t want your father to hear you, do you?” She questions, smirking slightly as you shook your head no. She loved the way you looked down at her, your eyebrows furrowed with a look of desperation and slight fear for bringing up that fact that he was in the other room down the hall.

As you were on the edge of cumming, your free hand went down to Wanda’s hair, grasping the soft locks of brown hair like you’ve always wanted. Her tongue kept going and swirled around the clit once again, really pushing you towards releasing all over her face and specifically in her mouth. You whined against her palm, signaling to her that you needed to let go. “You gonna cum, princess? Cum all over mommy’s tongue?” She asks in a condescending tone, smiling to herself as you tried to respond under her hand. She let her hand fall for you to speak and beg her for permission.

“P-Please mommy, please I wanna cum,” you begged, whimpering as you tried to hold back before she said yes. The hold on her hair got tighter, causing her groan again. Tears grew at the corners of your eyes and Wanda couldn’t help but get more aroused at the sight.

“Mhm, go ahead baby…” Wanda replied, going at a faster and rougher pace, battling against the tiring and numb feeling in her muscle. You let go the second you hear her, moving and grinding your cunt against her to ride out the orgasm that’s making your entire body tremble. Louder and higher pitched sounds from your mouth escaped, causing Wanda to instead move back up your body and shut you up by kissing you, shoving her tongue in your mouth and making you taste your own arousal.

“Uh-huh, good girl… so good for me,” she whispered, parting form the kiss and settling beside you in the bed, pulling you in her arms in a tight comforting hold laying down. The praise made you weaker, and with her pampering you by wiping your tears away while gently petting your head, it made you lost in your mind. You panted against her chest and held onto her hand still securely. She waited for you to calm down a bit before speaking again.

“Shhhh… it’s ok, just go back to sleep dear,” Wanda said softly and moving her arms to wrap around you. She figured you were still tired, from both the orgasm and the alcohol. She right of course, and you found yourself becoming drowsy in her arms.

“Wanda…” you suddenly said sleepily, catching her attention with your stable voice. She looked down at you, still comfortingly rubbing your side. The tired look on your face showing absolutely no signs of a single thought in your head was adorable to her and she smiled while responding to you with a small “hm?”

“I’m sorry for being bad,” you mumbled timidly, looking away for a moment as there was a permanent blush. Wanda laughed softly at you, her hands now to your cheek to make you look at her.

“You’re so cute… just make it up to me tomorrow okay, and then maybe we can do something like this again,” She responded, a loving grin on her face with a light pink tint on her cheeks. You nodded slowly and smiled at her. Wanda then kissed your head, shushing you to sleep. And you listened, saying a small goodnight before quickly beginning to snore softly into her neck once you shut your heavy eyelids just for a couple seconds in her warm embrace.

Part 2(Getting Closer)

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Thinking about…

Alastor and Bill Cipher after the same s/o (headcannons)

Hazbin Masterlist // Disney Masterlist // Navigation

Warnings: Obsessive behavior! Alastor being sadistic, Bill being a bit weird because duh, wrote this with Human form Bill Cipher in mind, mentions of death

A/N: I really like this dynamic, even though it’s kind of crazy and a lose lose situation for the reader, but it’s still interesting to write about. I hope you all enjoy!!

Alastor

• Alastor isn’t just charming; he’s obsessed with making you see him as the ultimate catch. He meticulously plans every interaction, ensuring that you are always impressed and feel valued. Every compliment and gesture is calculated to win your heart.

“Why there’s that smile I love to see my dear! Ever the beauty!”

Alastor can’t stand the thought of you being attracted to anyone else, especially Bill. He tries to mask his jealousy with his usual grace and horribly timed jokes, but it’s evident in the subtle digs he takes at Bill whenever you mention him.

When Alastor is alone with you he’s not above grand, romantic gestures. Picture him serenading you with an old-fashioned love song or setting up a beautiful, intimate dinner where he pours out his feelings and tries to convince you that he’s the best choice for a partner and way better than bill in all aspects of the word.

Alastor’s affection for you is deeply strategic. He genuinely cares, but he’s also careful in how he shows it. He’ll often try to subtly make you see how a relationship with him would be beneficial, not just for personal pleasure but for gaining power and influence. He’s a very strong man and his image is important, what’s not to want about him?

“Don’t you love this view dear? We could be here all the time, if you wished.”

Alastor envisions a future where you are by his side, helping him dominate Hell. His feelings are not just about the present but about creating a powerful, enduring relationship. He dreams of ruling Hell together, and he’s willing to go to great lengths to make that vision a reality.

But not all things with Alastor are good, you know how much he HATESSSS modern technology and well, it’s how the world runs now. this is something Bill definitely used against him

“Don’t get intimated by a big screen deer man!”

Though he hates how Bills joke makes you laugh, his smile tightens nonetheless

Alastor will often put doubts into your mind about Bill. He is partially right, so it does make you wonder…

“What if he were to suddenly get tired of you? My dear, he’s traveled galaxies and destroyed universes. You wouldn’t want to be subject to that would you?”

or maybe something like,

“That little shape is no better than a toddler. He can’t even take proper care of his toys, breaking them when he gets bored. How pitiful.”

Bill Cipher

Bill is intensely infatuated with you. His feelings might come across as chaotic and erratic, per usual, but underneath, he’s deeply drawn to your spirit and individuality. He finds your uniqueness thrilling and wants to be the one to make your life as unpredictable and exciting as possible.

“ Wanna see this guy dance with his eyes hanging out of his sockets? Gotta tell ya’ you’ll never see anything like it ever!”

Bill’s way of showing affection is through wild and flirtatious chaos. He might sweep you into a whirlwind of bizarre, fantastical experiences, always with an underlying flirtation that makes it clear he’s very interested in you.

Bill knows how to push Alastor’s buttons. He often uses his chaotic antics to draw your attention away from Alastor, playfully teasing him and making a show of his own appeal. For Bill, it’s not just about romance; it’s about proving he’s the more exciting option, you’ll never be bored of him!

Despite his chaotic nature, Bill genuinely wants a deep connection with you, even if he does have a weird way of being about it. He’s drawn to your complexity and wants to show you that his brand of chaos can be both thrilling and deeply meaningful. He might surprise you with moments of surprising sincerity.

Bill is not afraid to take big risks to win you over. He’s willing to gamble with the very fabric of reality just to create memorable moments. His love is unpredictable and intense, and he hopes you will find that thrilling rather than overwhelming.

Bill is the type of guy to take you to a different reality for a date, wanna go watch marshans fight? no problem! upset about something? let’s go to this dimension where you can blow anything up!

He’s definitely got jokes though, and he’s good at them too

“Hey furry, why don’t you cut that loose part of your hair? OH wait, it’s your EARS!”

Bill is no fool though, he sees EVERYTHING, so it’s really difficult to hide things from him, which means being with him also means you losing your privacy.

“He’s a sociopath dove, you can’t really believe that radio freak actually likes you right?”

He isn’t wrong, Alastor has proven multiple times he keeps people around because he needs them for something, and Bill loves this

“What if you don’t satisfy him? What if he decides you’re not worth being with?”

or maybe he’ll say

“ You never know dove, what if he’s just after your soul? Maybe he likes the fact you put up a good fight, eh?”

Both demons have their crazies to them. Picking Alastor means Bill might destroy your dimension and maybe rearrange his molecules. But picking Bill means watching Alastor rip hell to shreds at your expense, hurting anyone and everyone to get you, maybe even threatening whoever you love.

Dating Alastor means you can kind of live a normal-ish life

Dating Bill means you keep your dimension

[fluentmoviequoter]

The People You Deserve

Pairing: father figure!Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader (found family/platonic)

Summary: While training as a rookie, you have a devastating argument with your parents. Tim realizes that you need someone - someone you deserve - and sets out to become that person for you.

Warnings: familial angst, verbal/emotional abuse, fluff and comfort, Smitty

Word Count: 3.9k+ words

A/N: heyyyy @nevereclipse I finally wrote another one of your marvelous Tim ideas🤭

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

Lucy gasps as Tim wraps his hand around her arm and yanks her around a corner.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice raised from surprise.

“Did she tell you anything?” he demands.

Lucy’s brows raise as she exclaims, “Who?!”

“My rookie!”

Tim releases Lucy’s arm before he steps back.

“No, she hasn’t said anything. What’s going on?”

Shaking his head, Tim answers, “I don’t know. She’s off, though.”

Tim’s eyes lift, and Lucy turns to follow his line of sight. You have your bag on one shoulder, and Tim’s on the other, talking to a fellow rookie as you walk toward the shops.

“She seems fine,” Lucy says.

Tim doesn’t reply, but he’s not convinced. He knows you better than Lucy does and he can tell that something is wrong. You’re tense; your shoulders are pulled toward your ears like you’re ready to either fight or flee. That isn’t your usual state, unlike Nolan’s new rookie, who has fought and fled while on patrol. Usually, you are the calm and prepared one, ready for anything. You’re distracted today, even if no one else sees it.

“Sorry for grabbing you,” Tim tells Lucy.

“No worries,” she replies. “You’re worried about your rookie, I get it. Although, I never got worried about by TO Bradford.”

Tim returns his eyes to her face to glare at her. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

“I was trying to before hashtag grumpy cop assaulted me.”

“Keep your voice down,” Tim hisses. “I apologized.”

“And I’ll never let you forget it.”

Lucy waves over her shoulder as she walks away. Tim thinks about you while he walks to the shop. You were wringing your fingers together when he first saw you this morning, and he did not miss your nearly invisible flinch when he first spoke to you. Whatever it is you’re bottling up inside has the potential to turn explosive, and Tim doesn’t want the blowout to impact himself or you. So, despite his usual approach and reputation for being a hard, unforgiving TO, Tim climbs into the driver’s seat and prepares to talk to you.

He fails almost immediately, however. Instead of starting a conversation, he sits in the driver’s seat and stares straight ahead. You run your finger along a stitch in your uniform pants, as silent as him.

“What’s going on?” he asks as the other shop pulls forward in the garage.

“Dispatch alerted to an active alarm on Wilshire,” you answer. “The map also shows heavy congestion-”

“No,” Tim interrupts. “What’s wrong? You’re off, and we’re not going out until I know you’re stable enough to do this job.”

You shift in the passenger seat, looking at the dashboard rather than your TO. “Nothing,” you lie.

“Not gonna cut it,” he replies. “Not today, not any day you put on that uniform.”

“Sir,” you begin.

He shakes his head, and you immediately silence.

“You know what happens when cops bottle up their emotions?” he asks.

“They explode,” you answer softly. “Almost always in the wrong place and on the wrong people.”

“Right. But it also slows their reaction times, clouds their judgement. If I got shot right now, boot, would you be able to save my life and catch the shooter?”

“Yes.”

Tim scoffs. Yet, he doesn’t argue. He believes you. Despite your distracted state and the clear signs that something is bothering you, you’re a good cop.

“Look, you need to talk to someone, get some of that weight off yourself,” Tim explains. “If not me, there’s a dozen certified therapists the department will pay for.”

“I don’t need a shrink,” you argue. “I’m fine.”

Tim turns in his seat, resting his left forearm on the steering wheel as he looks at you. You sigh, aware that Tim will keep you from patrolling until he knows you are okay.

“I’m just… My parents came over last night,” you explain. “It didn’t end well.”

His posture relaxes slightly, but Tim doesn’t respond or start acting like a cop again. He stays open toward you, inviting you to keep talking. On your first day at the LAPD, you never would have imagined you’d be having a heart-to-heart with Tim ‘break their spirits’ Bradford. You’ve mentioned your parents maybe twice in the time you’ve been a rookie, and every time, you could tell that Tim not only listened but that he understood.

“We were just supposed to have dinner and catch up,” you begin.

The Night Before

“Hey!” you greet, smiling as you open the door. “Come on in. It’s so good to see you both.”

“You too,” your mother replies, looking around your apartment.

“We could have met somewhere closer to home,” your father complains.

“This is my home,” you point out. Your brows pinch as you add, “And I had to work late, so I wanted to make sure I wasn’t keeping you waiting.”

“Work late writing tickets?” your mother scoffs. “Sounds like a miserable existence.”

“That’s not all I do. I really like my job.”

“Why are we here?” your father asks. “I know we didn’t just drive to this hood to hear about how great your job is. What do you need? Money?”

Your eyes widen in shock. Neither of your parents has ever been overly supportive. Still, you didn’t anticipate your invitation to have dinner together would lead to this.

“Money wouldn’t be a problem if you’d simply done as I asked,” your mother sighs, opening the fridge. She frowns and closes the door, then shudders.

“I don’t need anything,” you say. “I just wanted to have dinner, catch up, be a family.”

“You moved out, you’re an adult,” your father argues. “We don’t have to keep up this appearance.”

“Appearance?” you repeat incredulously. “I’m your daughter, we are a family. You’re supposed to come over because you love me, not because I’m an obligation to make you look like a good family man at the country club!”

“We’ve never been country club people,” your mother interjects. “Maybe if we hadn’t had a child to pay for.”

“That’s all I am to you? A bill? Something you have to pay for and travel fifteen apparently excruciating miles to see?”

“Maybe if you’d moved to Brentwood and gotten a real job,” your father begins. He trails off, leaving the insinuation hanging.

“Okay,” you murmur, clenching your hands into fists to keep them from shaking. “You don’t like my job, that’s fine. Let’s just have dinner and talk about something else.”

“Like your family?” your mother suggests. “Oh, wait.”

You swallow harshly, fighting to keep yourself from lashing out at them. “You’re right. This was a bad idea; you should just go.”

“You made us drive over here for nothing?” your father asks, his voice rising.

“You didn’t even want to come,” you point out.

“And you wonder why we’re so disappointed,” your mother muses.

“You’re disappointed because nothing makes you happy,” you defend. “You are miserable people, and you try to push it onto everyone around you!”

“We’re only miserable because of you!” your father yells.

He stands from the barstool at your kitchen island, pointing at you as you step back from him.

“You are a disgrace to our name and yet you insist on wearing it on a meaningless badge! So desperate to feel wanted that you ran to a job that takes anyone, no matter how underqualified or worthless.”

You clench your jaw, swallowing the tears threatening to spill. “Get out.”

“We’ll see who’s miserable when you don’t have our pocketbook to fall back on,” your mother says, failing to hide her smirk.

“Go,” you demand.

“Oh, yes!” your father yells as he opens the door. “Pretend to have the authority you want. Whatever makes you feel seen, just remember that sooner or later everyone will see the walking disappointment hiding beneath your façade of self-confidence.”

You slam the door behind him, pressing your hand against your stomach as your emotions fight within you.

You shrug as you conclude your story. “They left. I stayed up most of the night wondering if anything they said was true.”

Tim lets your statement hang between you for a moment. “They don’t deserve you,” he says.

You shake your head. “Not how it works.”

“It is,” Tim assures you. “You deserve more. You need people who support you, who understand you and why you do what you do. What you love– who you love matters and settling for people who don’t care enough to see that is not good for you.”

“Not good for me as a cop,” you agree, nodding. “Because my personal life affects my job performance.”

“Your parents are miserable people,” Tim says, agreeing with your point from last night. “They are terrible people who don’t deserve to be around you or see everything that you accomplish in life.”

Finally, you look up at Tim. He says it like someone who has had to cut someone off as if he has kept people from seeing him at his best because of how they treated him at his worst. You have some idea of his past, but the fact that Tim has lived through something similar makes you faster to trust him.

“And if I don’t have anybody?”

Tim shifts into Drive before he answers, “You’ll always have your TO.”

“That was stupid,” Tim chides as you return to the shop.

“He was getting away,” you reply.

“And you could have seriously injured yourself by stopping him like that.”

“But I didn’t.”

“Not this time.”

You nod and accept Tim’s correction. His teaching style has changed since he learned of your strained relationship with your parents. He still pushes you daily, teaches you in a way that works for you, and lets you apply everything he says and demonstrates, but he shows you that he supports you. His praises are few and far between, but they matter, and you never forget what he says when the praise does come.

Nearly a month after falling out with your parents, your phone chimes with a new message. It’s from your dad, and you delete it without reading it. Over the next few days, you get messages, emails, voicemails, and even a physical letter from the people who consider you a disappointment and an obligation. You ignore all of them, and because of Tim’s advice and support, you find that you don’t even care.

“You look tired,” he says after roll call.

“My phone rang around midnight and woke me up,” you admit. “Took a while to go back to sleep, but I got a few more hours.”

“Who called?”

“My dad.”

Tim tips his head to the side, and you shrug.

“I didn’t answer. I should probably just block his number, since he can’t seem to take the hint.”

“He’s called before?” Tim asks.

“He and my mom have both been trying to reach me for about a week. I don’t know why; I delete everything without looking at it. Shredded the letter they mailed… I hope there wasn’t cash in it.”

“Doubtful,” Tim replies. “Keep your phone on today.”

“Why?”

“TO’s orders.”

You roll your eyes and ignore Tim’s displeased hum. He’s become more than a TO over the last few weeks: he’s someone who supports you and understands you. Finding a father figure in Tim Bradford was the last thing you expected to happen as a rookie. The closer you get to graduation, the more thankful you are for it and for him.

After your third call of the day – a robbery gone wrong – your phone rings. Your dad's name flashes onto the screen, and Tim snatches it from your hand and answers it.

“Sergeant Tim Bradford speaking,” he says. “Yeah, she can’t talk right now… Because she doesn’t want to…”

He turns away from you so you don’t hear him say, “Stop trying to mend this bridge just to burn it again, because we both know that’s what you’re going to do. You can contact her, but if I hear one word about you stepping out of line again, I will throw you in jail, is that clear?”

Returning your phone, Tim says, “He should stop calling.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you murmur.

“You’re right. But someone needed to remind him that you’re not alone, and he can’t walk all over you.”

“Thank you.”

Tim nods, then remembers that you’re still on duty. “Get in the shop, boot.”

“Congratulations,” Tim says, passing you an unmarked envelope. “And with the highest score.”

“I owe you most of the credit,” you reply, smiling as you hold the letter to your chest. “I couldn’t have passed my exam without you, and everything you’ve done for me.”

“Yeah, you could have.”

“Ready?” Angela asks.

“For what?” you inquire.

“We’re taking you out to celebrate,” Tim replies. “Graduating from long sleeves is a big deal, and you deserve it.”

You step toward Tim, then hesitate. He seems to understand what you’re thinking. He sighs but raises his arms anyway. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly as you thank him again. Tim grunts dramatically when you collide with him, but he pats your back, and you suddenly understand what it’s like to be loved and cared about. You’re worth something, and Tim Bradford took it upon himself to show you.

“Alright, let’s go,” Angela urges, smiling at you. “If you want to invite anyone, we made reservations with extra room.”

“Can I invite my boyfriend?” you ask.

Angela looks past you to Tim, whose jaw drops. She recovers quickly and tells you they’d love to meet him, but Tim is still caught on the revelation that you have a boyfriend.

Looking over your shoulder, you ask, “Are you coming?”

Tim murmurs, “Yeah, yeah,” as he tries to think of every man you’ve ever mentioned or had an encounter with while he was nearby. “You said boyfriend?” he asks. “That’s new.”

“New-ish,” you admit.

Tim holds the door for you and Lucy, laughing together as you enter the restaurant. Your boyfriend replies with a text that he’s stuck at work and a promise to celebrate with you the following weekend.

“What’s his name?” Lucy inquires.

“Fin,” you answer.

“You’ve never mentioned him before,” Tim says, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

“Yes, I have. When we watched Lord of the Rings, I told you that the scene where Gandalf releases Theoden from Saruman’s control is his favorite.”

“Tim Bradford watched Lord of the Rings?” Angela asks. “With you?”

Pressing your lips together, you look at Tim with an apologetic grimace. He waves at you, dismissing the attention. Your movie nights aren’t a new occurrence, but they were meant to stay between you. Tim has become your family, and the time you spend with him outside work is incredibly special and dear to you. What you won’t tell Lucy or Angela, or anyone else, is that Tim is the father you always wanted. A man who can show you that you matter and you’re loved, even if it’s hard for him to express.

Over the last few months, you’ve become incredibly close with Tim, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world. He smiles at you when Aaron arrives, bearing a congratulations bouquet and a gift card to your favorite store.

“Thank you,” you whisper across the table. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Tim.”

He nods, but as your celebration continues, Tim mentally plans the following morning to include running a background check on this Fin you claim to love.

Tim exits Wade’s office with a sigh. The fugitive he’s been tasked with finding seems to be an expert at hiding. Your first week riding alone is going well, and Tim didn’t anticipate missing you quite so much.

“Timothy,” Angela calls. He looks up, and she waves him over. “I figured out why you couldn’t find your future son-in-law.”

“Excuse me?” Tim asks.

“Your rookie’s boyfriend,” she amends. “You didn’t know his full name. Fin is short for Fingon; apparently his dad also likes Lord of the Rings.”

Tim hesitates, then walks to her desk. “What’d you find?”

“He seems great,” she replies, smiling. “And get this: James knows his dad. He did some construction work around the community center a while back and they became friends. The whole family… they’re good people, Tim.”

“You know this for sure?” Tim asks.

“Nyla invited them over to dinner last night, we talked to him-"

“What?!” Tim demands.

“Kidding. But if James can vouch for the dad, and your rookie – who has great character judgement – for the son, then I’d say, yeah, they’re good people.”

Tim taps his knuckles against Angela’s desk, then sighs again. “Thanks, Lopez.”

“No problem. I hope I get to meet him first, though. If you scare away her boyfriend, you can kiss those movie nights goodbye and I for one would love an invite.”

Tim ignores Angela’s smile as he rolls his eyes. Walking away, he thinks only of you. Pulling his radio from his belt, he asks dispatch for your location.

Your boyfriend Fin knocks on Tim's door two months after meeting Tim and nearly nine months after he began dating you. You’re at your apartment, getting ready for your date, and unaware of your boyfriend’s plan or current location.

“Fin,” Tim says as he opens the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Fin assures him. “I’m here to talk to you, if you have a few minutes.”

Tim narrows his eyes but nods and lets him in regardless. Angela was (unfortunately) correct about Fin and his family. They are good people, and his parents treat you better than your own ever did. But not as well as Tim, you once confided in Lucy.

“Can I get you a drink or anything?” Tim asks, closing the door.

“No, thank you. I won’t take up too much of your time. I… I’m pretty old fashioned.”

Tim nods, and Fin slides his hand into his pocket. After pulling out a small, square box, he rests it on his palm and shows it to Tim.

“I want to propose,” Fin explains. “But I want your blessing. You are one of the most important people in her life; you care about her, and I do too. So, I want to know that you are okay with this before I do anything.”

Tim is a man of few words, but he’s rendered speechless by Fin’s words and the ring box before him.

“You love her?” Tim asks after a moment.

“More than anything.”

“And you know that if anything happened to her-”

“I would answer to you,” Fin finishes, beginning to smile. “Yes, sir.”

Tim sighs, then shakes his head. “Let me see the ring, since you’re proposing.”

Fin steps forward, raising his arms to hug Tim before he reconsiders. He stops and offers his hand, which Tim shakes firmly.

“I assume you have a plan to make it memorable,” Tim says. “I’d warn against boats of any kind.”

“I do have a plan. Maybe you’d be willing to spare a minute to go over it with me?”

Tim nods, welcoming Fin to have a seat. As he begins speaking, he says your name, and Kojo runs from the hallway, looking around.

“She’s not here, Kojo,” Tim calls. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Fin raises his brows as he reaches forward to pet Kojo. “I’m in the market for a ring bearer,” he tells Tim.

“I feel like half of the LAPD is out there,” you murmur, smoothing your hands over your dress.

“There’s no more than a third,” Tim says.

You smile but continue fidgeting. Tim stands, walks to your side, and pulls your hands into his.

“Breathe,” he encourages. “It’s your wedding day. It’s about you and Fin, not what Lucy or Angela or Smitty think.”

“Smitty came?” you ask, finally loosening up. “That’s amazing.”

“We all care about you. We want to see you happy.”

You open your mouth to thank Tim but instead, you wrap your arms tightly around him. He chuckles, then returns the hug, his hold warm and safe.

“It’s almost time,” Lucy says, knocking as she looks inside the door. “You ready?”

You nod. Stepping back, you loop your arm through Tim’s elbow and smile at him.

“I wouldn’t be here without you,” you confess as you walk toward the venue.

“Neither would I,” he admits. “And you look beautiful, if I forgot to say it before.”

“You did,” you reply playfully. “But Kojo told me, so it’s okay.”

Standing at the end of the aisle, you watch Kojo trot alongside Lucy. Having your friends in your wedding party, being surrounded by the people who mean the most to you – the people you deserve – is perfect. You don’t even realize your parents are absent as Tim leads you down the flower-petal-covered aisle and toward your forever.

You smile at Fin as you gently remove your arm from Tim’s. He inhales sharply when you turn toward him to thank him once more.

“Don’t,” you warn softly.

He smiles, but you can see tears welling in his eyes.

“No, no, no,” you urge. “If you cry, I’m going to lose it and nobody wants to see that.”

“I’m proud of you,” Tim says. “Everything that you’ve done, everything you’ve become, and all that you’ll accomplish in the future… You’re amazing.” He brushes his thumb under his eye, then smiles. “I never thought I’d love a boot.”

Your surprised laugh is silenced by Tim’s shoulder as you wrap your arms around him. The off-duty police officers behind you break into an excited round of applause, and you can hear Angela and Lucy yelling above everyone else.

Stepping back, you whisper, “I love you too.”

Tim looks at Fin and levels his expression. “I know where you live,” he says before he turns and takes his place on the front row.

“Are you crying?” Wesley asks under his breath.

“No,” Tim answers. “We’re outside, there’s dust.”

“Just reign in the waterworks for the first dance,” James interjects from behind Wesley.

“Shut up,” Tim says over his shoulder.

“Congratulations,” Wade says, catching you between dances at the reception. He slips you an envelope and explains, “Special delivery from your Mid-Wilshire family.”

Before you can reply, Smitty calls, “But I also got you a fondue maker, so if you’re picking favorites or a name for any future kids..,” he trails off, gesturing to himself before he returns to the dance floor.

You turn to watch him as he does the electric slide to a song that does not fit the dance, then laugh and return your attention to Wade.

“A fondue maker will be pretty hard to beat,” you muse. “Thank you. I owe so much to you. Thank you for giving me a family, and a job I love.”

“You deserve it all and more,” Wade assures you, laying his hand on your shoulder. “But Tim is glaring at me, so I’m going to go.”

You turn, but Tim is smiling when you meet his eyes.

“Your parents didn’t show,” he says.

“I didn’t invite them,” you murmur. “I sent the announcement, but not an invitation. My real family is here; you’re here.”

“Tell me they at least sent a gift.”

“A $2,000 Visa card in an unsigned Hallmark card that said Congratulations over a wedding cake.”

“Smitty can beat that,” Tim scoffs.

“He did. Fondue maker,” you reply, nodding.

“We got a fondue maker?” Fin asks, returning from a dance battle with Aaron.

You wrap your arm around him but look at Tim as you say, “We got a lot more than that.”

“You did good,” Tim responds. “Boot.”

[daycourtofficial]

A Valentine for You

Summary: Nyx learns about making valentines at school and convinces you to make one that accidentally ends up in Azriel’s hands

Author’s note: doesn’t this sound adorable any plot with Nyx is sure to be the cutest thing ever also this might just be the fluffiest thing I’ve ever written happy valentine’s day babes hope you all enjoyed my valentine’s fics 💕

Warnings: none, sentient house ships you with Azriel

Nyx came bounding down the stairs, yelling your name as he came in, his wings flapping as fast as his legs. He wasn’t quite large enough to support his weight, but he could get a little extra spring in his step as he ran.

He ran straight into your arms, launching himself into your torso. You laugh at the boy, his backpack comically large on his small frame.

“How was school, Nyxie?” You ask, carrying him into the kitchen. He wraps his arms around your neck as you start to grab the plate of cookies you had hidden earlier. The two of you start munching on cookies, and he gets the entire front of his shirt covered in cookie crumbs. You wipe them off, trying to clean him a bit.

“We learned about Valentine’s day.”

“And what did you learn about it?” You ask, pinching his cheeks.

He swats at your hands, “I don’t know it’s about love and stuff, but I made these cards for everyone.”

He wiggles out of your grasp, putting his bag in the ground to rummage through it. He pulls out a stack of cards, each one colorfully doodled and covered in varieties of glitter, bead, and macaroni noodle the world has never seen.

He shows you each card, going through the message he wrote for each person. You caught a glimpse of one that he snatched away and said, “no peeking! That’s for you!”

“And this one is for Uncle Cassian - I wrote ‘be better’ because he always tells me that.”

You stifle a laugh at the ominousness of receiving a valentine from a child that just tells you to be better, but he continues.

“And this is my one for - wait, where’s my card for uncle Az?”

He frantically searches through the pile, and then moves towards his bag to rifle through it again in hopes of finding it.

Tears start lining his eyes, concern that his favorite uncle will feel unloved on Valentine’s Day for not receiving a card from him.

“Hey, Nyx, how about we make one now, yeah?”

Nyx sniffles, but his wings perk back up, “yeah. Will you make one for him too? It’ll be extra special if he gets one from you!”

You stall, “I haven’t written one in a long time, Nyx. What do I do?”

“My teacher said you can put your feelings in it and your wish will come true! That’s why I asked auntie Nesta to fight with the Valkyries.”

Nyx has no idea of your minor crush on his uncle, how every look of his is burned into your soul. You also can’t deny his little request, so you decide to make one and just destroy it later in the evening. Your crush on him was getting embarassing, and you knew it wouldn’t lead anywhere.

You find yourself writing an incredibly heartfelt valentine, pouring all of your feelings onto the page. You even write Az’s name on the cover of the heart shaped paper. You’re ready to burn it in the fire and make a new one that just says “happy valentine’s day”, when Nyx spills his juice all over the table and on himself.

He starts gettjng upset, a little boy who hates being dirty, every inch his father in that regard, and you rush to pick him up and whisk him away to bathe him.

Unbeknownst to you, while you’re bathing Nyx (and he cries anyway about being wet), Azriel walks into the townhouse, finding the heart shaped paper on the table. Seeing that it’s addressed to him, he assumed it was from his nephew. He had been making valentines for everyone at school, and Azriel was curious if he would make one for his uncle. He knew the little boy was saving it for the holiday, but he couldn’t resist looking inside to see what the card says.

The card in front of him is leagues better than anything Nyx could make, not just in quality but in the content inside.

Hi Az,

Nyx explained to me how they make valentine’s cards in school and how you’re supposed to declare your love, so here I am, a girl in a valentine, wishing desperately you felt the same way about me. Maybe I should give up on this hope you’ll share my devotions.

But hey, I need to get it out, so here it is. I am hopelessly in love with you, will you be my valentine?

He scrutinizes the signature on the bottom, certain that one of his brothers forged it in an attempt for him to confront his feelings.

His heart is soaring at your words at the end, but it quickly fills with dread as he rereads and rereads your words.

“Maybe I should give up on my devotions”?

He can’t let you get over him, not when he’s been trying so hard for the past few months to just tell you how he feels, each time the words unable to come out. The past month every time the two of you had been alone, the words would creep onto his tongue, begging to be let out, but he would shove them down, deep where no one could hear them.

He tucks the card into his jacket, trudging up the stairs to begin plotting his response.

The bath with Nyx pushed the valentine from your mind, but the thought of the card invaded all of Azriel’s thoughts as he paced through his room that night, trying to plan out his next move.

-

Most of the holiday goes by uneventfully. You enjoy walking the street of Velaris, seeing the hustle and bustle of males and females alike trying to find a gift for their beau.

The streets are filled with flowers, money exchanging hands. Most customers leave with at least one bundle of flowers, one female leaving with as many bundles as she can carry.

Your mind races with thoughts of Azriel, wondering if he was doing anything this holiday. In recent years you can’t think of him having any plans, in fact the past three or four he had spent the holiday with you.

You wander home to the House of Wind, moving through the house to drop your market finds off in your bedroom. You come to your room, finding an envelope underneath a rose on your vanity. You walk over, smelling the rose and it smells both flowery and like cedar. The scents linger on the card as well, as you pull it out from the envelope.

You’re expecting a card from Nyx, because he refused to show you your card yesterday, but instead you find your name delicately written on the front of the card in Azriel’s tiny, near script.

You sit in a chair, opening the card to find the entire page full of words.

Dearest,

It’s the holiday of love. New love, old love, rekindled love. I have been trying for weeks on end to get the words out, but I find no excuses holding them back today.

I yearn for you. I yearn for our stolen moments in crowded rooms, I yearn for your gaze meeting mine, a conversation without words, just the colors of our eyes mixing.

My favorite day of the week is Sunday, because I pretend like I haven’t spent the whole week in anticipation of being next to you on the couch in the library. We spend the afternoon reading, discussing our books aloud. Eventually you settle more and more into your seat, your legs stretching across my lap.

I will pretend it is casual for me to place my hand on your calf, as if I am not calculating every movement so as not to scare you. My favorite Sundays are when you fall asleep while reading, because I know you feel safe enough with me to put all your faith into me that I will keep you safe while you slumber.

I know the worst parts of myself, the parts that so many would find difficult to put up with. And yet you have shown nothing but kindness to those parts.

My heart is yours, and if that means only getting glimpses of a life with you, I will cherish them for all time.

Eternally yours,

Azriel

You are awestruck at the words in front of you. You read the card several times, soaking in the cadence of his words, hearing the words in his deep voice.

Mor and Feyre had been trying for months to get you to say something, and a flicker of annoyance passes through you thinking about how vindicated they’d feel at this card.

You jump up, thinking why the hell am I sitting here when a male just confessed his undying love for me? He yearns for me, and you him. You fling open the door, only to find that someone, you assume Azriel, scattered a line of rose petals from your room down the hall.

You follow it, leading you in a trail directly to the library where you and Azriel have spent so many nights staying up, neither of you wanting to leave the other’s company.

You open the doors to find the room covered in flowers. Daisies on roses on lilies, their colors creating no matching scheme. Reds, blues, whites, purples fill your eyes until they land on hazel.

“Hi,” you tell him, all the bravado from the note he left leaving you as you stand in front of him.

“Hi,” he whispers, stepping towards you. Nerves coat that one word, and he clears his throat, willing his voice strong and steady. “Did you get my card?”

You smile, eyes lighting up, “um yes, yes I did. It was lovely, thank you.”

Your mind can’t think of anything else to say. He professed his love for you and all you can do is thank him? Your feet move forward on their own, but your mouth opens again.

“I never knew you were so talented with words.”

The two of you are drawing closer to each other, magnets coming together.

“You got to read my three hundredth draft, so I hope it was worth the read. I’ve never had to resort to such words before, never thought anyone deserved them.”

You breathe in, his scent invading your system. His words a clanging in your mind. “I-um, are these for me?”

You gesture to all the flowers filling the room, unable to linger on his words of devotion, and he chuckles, “yes, they are.”

You make eye contact once again, “they are beautiful, thank you.”

This is uncharted territory, unknown lands. You don’t know what to say, what he wants to hear.

“They reminded me of you.”

Your eyes peer into his, sincerity looking back at you in a midst of hazel and gold. You think of his words in the letter, his sign off eternally yours, and ask the question you’ve been wondering since you began reading the letter the first time.

“Did you mean it?”

You wring your hands in front of you, looking down in fear of seeing rejection in his eyes. You don’t notice him step closer until he’s taking your hands, holding them gently in his own.

“Every word. I have more words, but I thought those got my point across well enough. I was inspired, actually.”

One of his hands removes itself from yours, but his other hand quickly moves to hold both of your hands. He pulls a familiar red card from his jacket, and your cheeks turn the same shade as the card in mortification.

You start opening and closing your mouth like a fish, shock and confusion making words impossible.

“How did you- where did you-what-“ is all that’s able to come out before he’s chuckling and cutting you off.

“I found it on the table yesterday.”

You gasp, “I had to bathe Nyx and I forgot all about it!”

He places the card back into his jacket pocket, his eyes not leaving yours as he moves.

“Did you mean it?”

It’s his turn to be insecure, to be nervous. Vulnerability was not something the shadowsinger did lightly, and he knew your answer could destroy him.

“Every word. I have more, if you want them.”

Echoing his own words back to him, he smiles.

“I’ll take every word you give me as gospel,” he tells you, inching closer to you.

“Kiss me.”

He cups your face, your hands pressing against his chest. His lips gently brush your own, tentative, gentle. You put your hand on the back of his neck, deepening the kiss. He responds immediately, moving his hands around your back to pull you into him.

You’re panting, your lungs wanting air but the rest of your body wanting him. The room is loud with the sounds of your lips connecting and reconnecting, breathy moans escaping from both of you.

You have no idea how long you’re swept up in kissing him until your brain begins working again, and a question comes to mind. You pull away from him, a groan leaving him as you do so. You only make it a few inches from his lips when you find the words.

“How did you get all of these in here without my noticing? Also what if I had come in here before my room?”

The whole time you were talking, his gaze is focused on your mouth, and he even moves forward slightly, as if the urge to kiss you was overwhelming him. Once you finish speaking he kisses your lips again before answering. “You almost caught me in the city, but I hid behind a massive bundle of sunflowers. And I may or may not have asked the house to lock the doors for you.”

To reiterate his point the house locked and unlocked the doors behind you.

“How’d you do the rose petals?”

“What rose petals?” He asks, the question breaking his eye contact with your mouth

“There were rose petals lining the hallway, telling me to come here.”

“I thought you knew to come here because of the letter.”

Confusion lines both of your faces until the house dumps a giant pile of rose petals onto the two of you.

You both laugh at the message the house was sending, and you laugh even further as Azriel begins kissing you and the house makes a big deal of locking the doors again.

You both laugh as you kiss him again, and he picks you up, laying you down on the bed of rose petals before lying on top of you.

“Who knew the house was such a romantic?”

[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ jujutsu kaisen x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack with plot

"You hate your job. The pay is bad, your manager is worse, and customers are somehow both entitled and clueless. Just as you finish contemplating whether unpaid breaks are a human rights violation, weird new people keep showing up to the café. They all seem to know each other. Sometimes they talk in cryptic phrases. What the hell is this domain and why do they want to expand it? One time, a man with stitches on his forehead walked in, made prolonged eye contact with you, and then left without ordering anything. You’re pretty sure he was a serial killer. Another time, the one with white hair and sunglasses indoors mentioned a "higher mission", and you’re 90% sure this is how cult documentaries start. One of your regulars only speaks in weird food-related phrases. You assume he has some kind of medical condition, but no one explains anything to you. But you are not about to ask questions, because ignorance is bliss and also job security. And unfortunately, they are all weird and they seem very interested in coming back."

꒰ masterlist ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 6 ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 8 ꒱

ᨳ♡₊➳ or read on archive of our own!

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: hey hey! i wrote a little minimum wage, maximum suffering side story for a nanami x reader request! obviously, it’s not canon to this main fic—just a fun little “what if” scenario where the barista and nanami get to be two overworked exhausted souls, bake together, and accidentally start catching feelings. if that sounds like your vibe, feel free to check it out! also, just a reminder that i’m taking requests, so if there’s something specific you wanna see in this universe or any jjk x reader content in general, send it my way! thank you all so much for the love and kind feedback—reading your reactions truly makes my day. hope you’re enjoying the chaos!! 🫶

You wake up to the sound of your phone buzzing aggressively against your nightstand. You consider letting it vibrate itself into the abyss, but then you see the name on the screen.

Greg the Manager.

Of course, it’s Greg.

You contemplate ignoring it. After all, you've gotten pretty good at ghosting calls from him. But then you remember the last time you did that, and Greg left you a voicemail that said, "Hey dude, I know you don’t like getting called, but I need help because the espresso machine is like… emitting a black fog? But no worries, bro, I handled it—put a towel over it."

The towel, you later discovered, had caught fire.

So, for the sake of fire safety and whatever remains of your sanity, you begrudgingly pick up.

"Yo," Greg the Manager answers, sounding unreasonably chill.

"What’s wrong," you say, already bracing yourself.

"Uh. Don’t freak out, but the espresso machine made a sound that was, like… unholy."

You close your eyes. Rub your face. Consider throwing your phone out the window. "Greg. It always does that."

"Like, bro, I’m telling you, it sounded sentient this time."

"It’s just a machine, Greg," you reply, a deep sigh escaping you.

"I don’t know, man. It said something."

You sit up now, the exhaustion of life creeping up on you. "It spoke?"

"Not, like, English," Greg clarifies, sounding very much like he’s trying to convince himself. "But it made a noise that felt like it had intent."

Before you can even come up with something appropriately sarcastic, Greg makes a noise of panic. "Oh god. It’s smoking. Again."

You hang up.

By the time you drag yourself to work, the café smells like burnt espresso, disappointment, and what you can only assume is the palpable scent of existential dread. Greg the Manager is standing frozen in front of the espresso machine, which looks like it’s on the verge of giving up on life—or maybe plotting to drag him into some alternate dimension. You can’t decide. Either way, it’s rattling violently, as if trying to break free from the shackles of this mortal plane.

"Hey," Greg greets you, looking vaguely guilty.

You stare at him, then at the machine, which lets out a low, menacing hum. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" he says, a little too defensively.

You narrow your eyes.

"Okay, so I may have, like, smacked it real hard because it wasn’t working."

"You WHAT?!" You take a step back, half-expecting the espresso machine to come alive and launch itself at you like some caffeinated version of The Terminator.

"I—"

Before he can finish his sentence, the espresso machine lets out a noise that can only be described as otherworldly. It’s a screech that would make an animal in pain sound pleasant by comparison. The lights flicker. A single ominous spark shoots out of its side.

You take another step back, because honestly, at this point, there’s nothing left to do but stare at the impending doom of your workplace with all the grace and patience of a minimum-wage worker who’s clocking in for a shift that’s definitely going to suck.

“Cool,” you say flatly. “So we’re all gonna die today.”

When you hear no response, you turn. Of course, Greg—ever useless—has disappeared. Just gone. Like a damn mirage. You glance around the café, mentally preparing for the usual gauntlet of weirdness.

Muffin Guy is in his usual spot, staring at his muffin like it holds the secrets of the universe, and a woman is peering at the menu like it’s written in hieroglyphics. The vibes are bad. Just another typical day at the café.

And then—because life loves making things worse—the door chimes. You look up to see Choso and Yuji walking in. Well, Yuji walks in like a normal person. Choso, however, enters like he’s surveying enemy territory. He, as usual, zeros in on you like a heat-seeking missile.

"Barista," Choso greets you solemnly, as if he’s about to deliver some deeply important news.

"Choso," you reply, because this is just how your conversations go now.

"I have returned."

"You sure have, bud."

“You look exhausted.” Choso observes, his brows furrowing like he’s genuinely concerned.

You, running on caffeine and spite, give him a tired look. “That’s just my face.”

Choso doesn’t get sarcasm. Not even a little. His frown deepens. "I will give you nourishment."

Yuji, sensing an impending crisis, groans loudly. "Choso, please. We talked about this."

You already know what’s coming. You brace yourself. “Let me guess. You brought an entire feast again?”

Choso, ever serious, reaches into his pocket. You hold your breath.

And then, finally, he pulls out a single, modest red apple and places it on the counter like he’s offering you the Holy Grail.

Yuji’s jaw drops. “Character development?! He only brought one thing?”

Choso nods solemnly, like he just made a sacrifice. “I am learning restraint.”

You stare at the apple. “Where did you even get this?”

Choso pauses. Looks at Yuji. Looks at the apple. Looks away.

Yuji’s expression shifts to pure betrayal. “Did you—DID YOU STEAL THIS FROM THE FRUIT STAND WE WALKED BY EARLIER?”

Choso looks totally unbothered. “The barista needs nourishment.”

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU CAN JUST COMMIT CRIMES—”

Before Yuji can launch into a full-on rant about the ethics of fruit theft, the door chimes again, and in walks a new customer.

This guy?

He radiates vibes.

The kind of vibes that scream, "I’m either a cult leader or a very rich businessman who just walked out of a TED Talk on ‘The Secrets of Power.’"

Tall, sharp features, long black hair partially tied up in a man bun with loose strands framing his face. He’s wearing traditional robes that look like they cost more than your monthly rent. His movements are slow and deliberate with the kind of controlled grace that screams villain.

As he steps inside, he sniffs—like a Victorian aristocrat who just walked into a peasant’s barn. Then, with a look of absolute disdain, he pulls out a small spray bottle, mutters "disgusting," and mists himself like a beauty influencer on a self-care day.

You blink. Slowly.

Did this man just Febreze himself?

He catches your stare. Of course he does. And you instantly know: This man is judging you. Hard. You can feel it deep in your soul.

Choso immediately tenses. Yuji just looks confused.

“...Do I know you? You look sorta familiar,” Yuji asks, like he’s trying to place the guy who just sprayed himself down with Eau de I Think I’m Better Than You.

The man ignores both of them and strides up to the counter.

Then, he smiles.

It is fake as all hell. You would know, you give fake smiles on the daily.

"Hello," he says, voice smooth and deeply insincere.

Your customer service instincts activate against your will. “Hi. Welcome to—"

"You work here?" he interrupts, in the same tone someone might use to ask, "You live in filth?"

“…No. I just wear the apron and make lattes for fun.”

His lip curls slightly, as if your existence alone offends him. "I see. Sharp-tongued for a monkey."

There’s a pause.

You stare at the man.

Yuji sputters, clutching his hoodie like it might protect him from the sheer audacity unfolding before him.

Choso glares, his resting murder-face intensifying.

The man—who is now on your personal Most Hated Customers List, right beneath that one guy who asked if oat milk had dairy in it—lets out a long, exasperated sigh, as if he’s the one enduring the most in this situation.

"It’s just an observation," he says smoothly, like that somehow makes it better.

You deadpan. "Observation of what? My ability to use tools? My advanced problem-solving skills?"

"Charming," he muses, as if you’re some kind of exotic street performer. "No wonder Satoru enjoys this place."

Your eye twitches. Oh god. Of course.

"You know Gojo?"

The man’s expression flickers—just for a second. His eyes darken slightly before he schools his face back into the usual smooth, infuriating calm.

"In a way," he says cryptically, which is not an answer, but whatever.

Yuji cautiously clears his throat. "Uh. So. What’s your name?"

The man smiles, slow and deliberate. "Suguru Geto."

Choso, who has not stopped glaring since this conversation began, somehow glares harder. Geto notices and, rather than feeling threatened like a normal person, looks vaguely pleased.

"Can’t a man enjoy a cup of tea?" Geto asks, all silk and smugness. Then, he turns back to you, fixing you with an expression so judgmental it makes your soul itch. "This is an establishment that serves tea, isn’t it?"

You squint at him. "You seem like the type to order something obscure, like… oolong infused with the souls of the damned."

His lips twitch, like he wants to smirk but refuses to let you amuse him. "Just green tea will suffice."

"Sure," you nod half-heartedly. "Coming right up."

As you prepare the drink, you vaguely register that Yuji looks like he’s trying to astral project himself out of this situation, while Choso—without a word—has positioned himself just slightly in front of you, like a silent, glaring guard dog.

Then, as if the universe has decided that this moment isn’t chaotic enough, the café door SLAMS open.

And in saunters Gojo.

Like he owns the place. Like he’s walking onto the stage of his own Broadway debut.

"HELLO, MY FAVORITE MINIMUM WAGE WORKER!" Gojo announces loudly. "HAVE YOU SEEN A—"

Then, he sees him.

Gojo’s entire body freezes.

Geto, for his part, remains utterly calm. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shift. The only movement comes from his fingers, lightly tapping against his tea cup you had just placed in front of him like this is some casual interaction and not charged with enough tension to power the national grid.

"Satoru," Geto greets smoothly, tilting his head.

Gojo blinks once. Twice. Then he grins—but it’s different. It’s not his usual annoying, gremlin-esque grin. It’s sharper. Tighter. Colder.

"Suguru," he replies, voice light, but not playful.

You, oblivious to all actual context, just sigh.

"Cool," you say, absolutely exhausted. "What is this? A long-lost soap opera reunion?"

Geto lets out a low chuckle. "Something like that," he hums, setting his tea down with elegant precision. "We're… old friends."

You know drama when you hear it.

“Old friends,” you repeat, skeptical. "Like actual old friends, or ‘we broke up and now we’re enemies who pretend not to care but totally do’?"

Gojo, without missing a beat, grins. “Oh, it’s the second one.”

Geto’s eye twitches.

You nod slowly. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

There’s a pause. The kind of silence thick with unspoken words and deep-seated resentment. The kind of silence that happens right before someone dramatically walks out of a family Thanksgiving dinner.

Naturally, Gojo—because he can’t handle silence like a normal person—fills it.

“Man, this really takes me back,” he says wistfully, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Us, standing together in a café, like old times—”

“We never did this,” Geto interrupts with an unimpressed expression.

“—Me, looking as handsome as ever,” Gojo continues, undeterred. “You, glaring at me because you can’t admit you miss me.”

Geto lets out the deepest, most suffering sigh you have ever heard. “I don’t.”

“Lies.”

You press a hand against your forehead. "I don’t get paid enough for this."

Unfortunately, Geto has now turned his hyper-critical stare back on you, and it is very much unwelcome.

"How pathetic," Geto murmurs, studying you like you’re some kind of pitiful lab rat trapped in the maze of capitalism. "To be stuck in such a miserable life."

You're too exhausted for whatever pretentious nonsense he’s about to drop. "I know you’re about to say some weird philosophical nonsense, and I do not have the mental capacity for it today."

Gojo snorts.

Geto tilts his head, smiling in that way that makes you feel like he thinks he’s playing some kind of intellectual chess match. You are, unfortunately, not interested in playing.

Choso, usually the embodiment of silent, looming presence, apparently hit his limit. Without hesitation, he stepped directly in front of you like he was personally responsible for your well-being, his posture stiff and protective, his face a masterpiece of disapproval. His expression was one part overprotective, three parts ready to physically launch a man through the nearest window.

"Do not insult the barista."

His voice was so serious, so weighted with dramatic intensity, that for a moment, the café itself seemed to still. Geto raised an eyebrow, vaguely intrigued. Yuji looked like he was about to pass out from the amount of secondhand embarrassment. Gojo’s grin stretched wider, already living for the drama.

You sighed, deeply accustomed to the daily horrors of customer service. "Choso, I literally get insulted daily. It’s fine."

"It is not fine," Choso insisted, his voice filled with righteous indignation. "You are valued."

There was a pause.

A long one.

You blink a few times.

Yuji made a noise. A high-pitched, inhuman noise that sounded like a balloon deflating in sheer disbelief.

Gojo clutched his chest, looking like he’d just witnessed the most beautiful love confession of the century.

Geto? Silent. Watching with rapt fascination, like a scientist observing a new species exhibit an unexpected behavior.

Meanwhile, you stared at Choso like he had just dramatically confessed his eternal devotion to a bag of expired croissants.

"I… okay," you said finally, unsure how to respond to this level of sincerity at nine in the morning. "…Thanks?"

Choso nodded, as solemn as ever. "You deserve respect."

Yuji, still desperately trying to process what was happening, let out a tiny, suffering groan, like his soul was actively exiting his body. "Choso, please. You can’t just—just declare things like that—"

"But it’s true, brother." Choso replied simply, as if that justified everything. "The barista is important."

Gojo, absolutely thriving on the chaos, turned to Geto with a shit-eating grin. "See, Suguru? That’s how you show appreciation. Unlike someone I know."

Geto ignored him, his eyes flickering between you and Choso with a quiet, analytical interest. He looked like he was filing this entire interaction away for later use, tucking it into some folder labeled: Barista-Choso Phenomenon. His lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk.

"My, my," he mused, tilting his head. "How unexpectedly devoted."

Choso, ever the man of direct responses, stared him down. "I would kill you."

Yuji visibly malfunctioned. "CHO."

"Oh, this is interesting," Geto murmured, his eyes twinkling like he was delighted by this development. "Satoru, did you know your little friend here had such a strong sense of loyalty?"

Gojo, grinning like he just won the chaos lottery, threw an arm around Choso’s shoulders. "Oh, yeah. Big bro instincts. Real serious about them."

Choso immediately shrugged Gojo off like he was nothing more than an unwanted speck of dust.

Gojo dramatically clutched his chest, stumbling back. "Oof. Rejected. That one hurt."

You exhaled sharply, ready to throw all of them out. "Can we please get back to the part where I have a job and you are all customers and not—whatever the hell this is?"

Gojo clapped his hands together, bright as ever. "Okay! So! What’s my favorite barista been up to?"

You considered lying. Unfortunately, your reality was too bleak to sugarcoat.

"Oh, you know," you said, voice flat as a pancake. "The usual. Greg is definitely useless. A man tried to pay for his coffee with wisdom, which, fun fact, does not pay my rent."

Gojo gasped dramatically. "Shocking. Wisdom is worthless?"

"Yes," you deadpanned. "Turns out, landlords prefer actual money. Who knew?"

Gojo nodded, stroking his chin like an old wise sage reflecting on the tragedy of the modern world. "Late-stage capitalism. Terrible stuff."

"You don’t know the half of it," you muttered.

And then—because your suffering was never-ending—Greg the Manager wandered in from the back, looking just as dazed and blissfully unaware as ever.

"Yo," he greeted.

Geto’s nose wrinkled in visible disgust. His gaze flicked to you, then back to Greg, and for a moment, he seemed genuinely baffled that such a person existed.

“…Who is this?” Geto asked, his voice laced with pure judgment.

Greg, oblivious to the chaos around him and completely missing Geto's stare of disdain, stretched lazily. "The espresso machine started making weird noises again. It was, like, growling or something, so I put a sign on it."

Your eyes narrowed. "What kind of sign?"

Greg shrugged again. "You know. ‘Out of Order.’ But also, ‘Do Not Anger It.’ Just in case."

Geto slowly turned his head to you, processing this information. His expression was unreadable.

"…Your machine growls?" he asked, a little too intrigued.

You exhaled sharply. "It makes noises. But it’s not haunted."

Geto looked from the espresso machine, back to you, back to the espresso machine, like he was staring at a very stupid child.

"…You poor, oblivious fool."

Before you could fire back with peak sarcasm, the espresso machine let out an unholy screech that could only be described as a hundred lost souls wailing in agony.

The lights flickered violently.

Muffin Guy finally blinked.

Geto’s fingers stilled around his cup. His gaze flickered toward the espresso machine with genuine curiosity.

"Tell me," he said, tilting his head. "Do you ever feel like something is… watching you in this place?"

"Dude, I work in customer service. I feel eyes on me all the time."

Geto chuckled, seemingly amused by your suffering. "No, not customers. Something… else."

"Oh my god," you scoffed. "Are you also about to tell me the espresso machine is cursed?"

The espresso machine, as if personally offended, let out another deep, guttural groan. The lights dimmed.

You refused to react. This was just your life now.

Geto raised a single brow. "You don’t find that strange?"

You sighed and crossed your atms. "It just does that sometimes."

"Fascinating." Geto mused, though you had the sense that he was being condescending. He then turned to Gojo, still lounging near the counter. "Satoru, I have to ask. Why haven’t you exorcised that thing yet?"

Gojo grinned. "Hey, it’s part of our beloved minimum wage worker’s daily experience! It would be cruel to take away such an iconic workplace feature."

"Why does everyone keep making ominous comments about my espresso machine?!" you demanded. "It’s just a little broken!"

Greg the Manager nodded sagely and put his two cents in even though nobody asked. "Yeah. Just a little."

The espresso machine rattled violently.

Greg backpedaled. "Actually, maybe more than a little."

You caught Choso still glaring at Geto like he was actively plotting his downfall. Yuji, meanwhile, looked like he was actively trying to escape this awkward situation through sheer force of will.

And then—just when you thought it couldn’t get worse—Geto picked up his tea and walked straight to the nearest table.

And sat down.

And got comfortable.

Your stomach dropped.

"…You’re staying?" you asked, dreading the answer.

Geto sipped his tea, looking far too smug. "Oh, yes. I think I’ll linger."

You turned to Gojo, silently begging for intervention.

Gojo just grinned. "Oh, buddy. He’s a linger-er."

Your soul left your body.

Yuji, still tense, whispered to Choso, "Uh. We should probably go."

Choso crossed his arms. "Not until he leaves."

Geto, ever the bastard, smirked.

Yuji groaned, fully done with everything. "Oh my god. This is literally the worst possible dynamic."

It was.

It really, truly was.

And as you watched Geto settle in, taking in the café like he owned the place, you realized something horrifying:

Your life was about to get even worse.

₊⊹. tag list: @alpha-mommy69 @luluminati @amortsukii-writes @inthedarkshadows000 @isomehowexist @not-aya @emochosoluvr @lov3vivian @literallyushiwaka

[23starii]

Pleasant Surprise - tendo x reader

Summary: He's used to girls trying to get through him to get to Ushiwaka. He knows no girl actually wants to be with him or get to know him. None of the gifts he receives are ever actually for him. Until you approach him one day after practice.

Warnings/notes: insecurity, speculation, rudeness, but, tbh not that much, short reader (shorter than Tendo). Chat I literally wrote all of day two and left to find a divider AND TURNS OUT EVERYTHING DELETED SO I HAD TO REWRITE THE WHOLE THING 😆😆😆😆😆

Day one

Practice was finally over.

Tendo loved it. It was another good day for him and the team.

What he didn't quite loves was-

"E-excuse me?" A tiny feminine voice to his left.

"Can I help you?" He answered, almost rudely. He knew what was to come, especially with the way you held the small, neatly wrapped gift box in between your hands.

"I'm really sorry to bother you, Tendo.." You began, shyly looking up at the taller male.

Tendo almost rolled his eyes. He wanted to just tell you to go away. He couldn't take it anymore. He just wanted to go home, but here you were, a cute girl saying his name with the sweetest voice trying to use him to get to his buddy.

It would be nice not to be looked over for once. Not only was it annoying to have to go through this nearly every day but painful, too. You were so cute and pretty. He recalled seeing you around and watching their practice several times.

"I made this for you. I was wondering if you'd accept it?" The girl brought her arms up higher, showing off the tiny box to the volleyball player.

"Listen-" Tendo almost answered in his usual way, telling girls to just go away because Ushiwaka didn't want their gifts anyway but then he realized what you said.

A gift for him? This was new. You wanted to earn his trust and get close to him just so he could introduce you to Ushiwaka. Didn't you?

Figures.

"U-um, you don't have to.. if you don't want to." You spoke up after Tendo was quiet for some time, thinking.

"Is it for me?" He wondered.

"Yes! It's for you! I made this just for you, Tendo."

Before he could say anything, you decided to keep speaking your mind, making sure he understood the extent of your purpose for being in front of him today.

"I've been coming to watch you practice for some time now.. you're amazing. You're so tall and a great blocker! I can tell you enjoy playing the game very much.. you always have a smile on your face when you play. And I enjoy watching you..very much as well."

Tendo was stunned, to say the least. You spoke without even looking at him. What you said didn't sound rehearsed or bogusly put together.

He wasn't sure what to say or do. He didn't know if he was convinced either.

"I took the time to learn that you really like chocolate too.. so that's why I made it for you. It took me a while to get the recipe right, but I did it just for you.. so I would really appreciate it if you could accept my hard work." You stared at the floor, face flushed and embarrassed, arms stretched out. You couldn't believe you poured nearly your whole heart out to him when he hadn't even said more than one word to you.

"Um.. okay. Thank you very much. I'll make sure to have these later." Tendo took the small box from your pretty hands. He had never been in a situation like this before - he hoped his answer wasn't too blunt or that he made you feel dumb for being here.

"Please! Let me know if you like them! Or if you dont.. I'd be very happy to make more for you!" You bowed quickly before speeding off in the opposite direction, cheeks burning.

You really hopped you hadn't said too much.

Tendo watched you walk away, cocking his head slightly to the his right, puzzled.

Could it be that you really did make it for him because you wanted to give it to him?

Could it be true that you really had been watching him and not Ushiwaka?

"Damn. That girl was really nervous." He hears Semi from his left speak.

"Aw man! You're so lucky, Tendo! She was cute.." Goshiki gushes from his right.

"Yeah, she was.."

Day two

The next day, Tendo walked the halls with the knowledge that somewhere in the same building, there was a girl who made the best chocolates he's ever had.

He hardly thought of anything else since he popped one of the treats into his mouth the night prior. He couldn't believe something so delicious could be made. And just for him nonetheless.

He hoped your words were truthful. He hoped he would see you again that afternoon so he could thank you.

Tendo made his way toward the gym, where he would be partaking in the usual practice routine.

When he arrived and was fully changed into his gym clothes, he made sure to warm up with his teammates.

He stretched and received a few balls, making sure to keep an eye out for you.

The redhead made sure to glance over at the students' section every so often.

Tendo was quite disillusioned to find you nowhere to be seen.

An hour into practice, he figured you just weren't coming. He had been tricked, hadn't he.

Oh well.

There's no way a girl like you would seriously be into him.

He decided to go on as if nothing had happened, as per usual. He continued giving it his all during practice as was expected from him.

.

.

.

Tendo exited the changing room, having his regular school uniform on now. He could hear his younger teammates messing about in the room behind him while he bent down low, grabbing his shows and placing them in front of himself.

"Tendo." He hears the firm, stoic voice of his best buddy call out.

"Hey! Wakaaa!" The lankier boy teased with the nickname, looking off in Ushijima's direction whilst putting his left shoe on.

"There was a girl looking for you." The barely taller male spoke.

"A girl?" Tendo repeated, moving on to his right shoe.

"I thought she was gonna ask me for my autograph. Instead, she asked me about you." Ushiwaka informed, with his usual straight face.

Tendo straightened up his body, finishing up with his shoes he turned his full attention to his friend.

"Where is she?" The redhead asked, picturing your shaky figure holding out the gift he enjoyed so much.

Ushiwaka shrugged.

"She was outside the gym, last time I saw her."

Tendo thanked his friend and quickly made his way back to the gym, hoping he hadn't missed you.

He was relieved to find you curiously standing about right outside the gym.

"Excuse me?" He spoke, stepping to you.

You quickly turn around to meet the boy, your hair whipping the air from the speed.

"Tendo!" You spoke, surprised.

"I'm shocked, I didn't think I'd see you again or have the chance to thank you for those chocolates." Tendo teased, reffering to your absence earlier.

He watched your face twist into guilt.

"I am only able to see you when my club activities end early. I'm so sorry! Did you like the gift then..?" You ramble, apologetically, your cheeks flushing.

Tendo suddenly found it increasingly difficult to hide how flattered he is by your presence.

You took the time to come see him after your own club activities and even asked Ushiwaka about him. And the way you messed with your uniform nervously as you spoke was adorable in his eyes.

"Like it? I loved it!! I've never had anything so good before." His face warmed up.

"Really?? It was a family recipe.. I barely learned it, so I'm glad you enjoyed them!" You gave another sweet smile, almost as sweet as the treats the boy had last night.

"You'll have to teach me that recipe some time, cause seriously, I've never had anything like that before!" He gushed, hoping he didn't sound too enthusiastic.

You blush at his compliments.

"So.. do you enjoy making sweets too, Tendo?" You wonder, hoping the two of you might find something in common, it would be beneficial to keep the conversation going which you hoped would happen.

"Actually, I've never baked or anything like that. But, if it's possible to make something that good, I'd like to learn it."

You were happy that he took such interest in you. You honestly hadn't expected it. You were just some girl after all. It warmed your heart and the tips of your ears.

"By the way, you were looking for me? Ushiwaka told me."

Again, your cheeks flushed and you stiffened up.

"Well, I wanted to see you! I am a fan of yours, you know!" You laughed awkwardly admitting you truly did just want to see him.

Tendo's cheeks warmed further equal to yours now.

You wanted to see him? His fan? A pretty girl?

Could words be ever more flattering? Could you make him any more embarrassed? He seriously couldn't believe it.

You really called yourself his fan.

"Oh, wow. I didn't know I had such a beautiful fan." He sputtered, relieved that he hadn't stuttered. He almost missed your expression after those words.

Your face dropped, and he could see the visible pink hue that coated your pretty cheeks.

"I-Well, you know, I mean.. you're awesome and like also super! And beautiful.. too.." Your eyes widened from your own words. How could one stumble over themselves so damn much?

You internally beat the shit out of yourself. There's no way you didn't totally just blow it.

You almost missed how his eyes widened, too, and he blushed. Tendo looked as if you could eat him right up right then and there.

"Jeez.. you really came here just to flatter me." Tendo couldn't ignore the fact that no one had ever called him beautiful before. You were the first. And damn, it was a really nice feeling.

He couldn't believe it. This had to be a dream.

You couldn't really reply after how badly you stuttered you were surely traumatized from the embarrassment.

"So, how about that recipe?"

The boy eased your nerves by not turning away or insinuating that he disliked you. He wouldn't anyway. No way in a million years would he walk away.

You smiled, taking a deep breath to calm yourself before continuing the conversation.

You gave him a social media account of your choosing so he could contact you.

Tendo asked about your club, and the two of you spoke of your many interests. He even walked with you to your bus stop.

You found that the two of you didn't have much in common, but his interest in your hobby of baking and making sweets just might change that.

It might even create a duo of married chocolatiers.

✧˖*°࿐

[hyuckiefluff]

Pretty Boy

pairing: na jaemin x f!reader genre: roommates to lovers wc : 1.2k + summary: you are determined to convince your roommate to let you put mascara on his pretty eyelashes but things escalate when playful touches become more intimate. a/n: this is a short story that i wrote in like an hour sorry if it’s kind of all over the place lol. it has an open ending so possible part 2 if it doesn’t flop?? tysm for reading &lt;33

part 2

"Jaemin, come here!!" you followed him out of the room as he escaped.

"Nope! Not a chance!" Jaemin retorted.

"C'mon, you're being so dramatic,"

"I'm not the one trying to poke your eyeballs with a strange object," he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he walked away, keeping a safe distance from you.

"Please, it's just mascara. I'm trying to see how it looks on you," you said, practically sprinting after him across the shared department.

"When I agreed to room with you, I didn't know I was signing up to become your little experiment," he grumbled, effortlessly leaping over the couch and assuming a defensive stance. "Why do you even want to put mascara on me?"

"Like I said, you're being dramatic. And you have the prettiest eyelashes I've ever seen, so I must see what they look like all done,"

He rolled his eyes, having had this conversation with you before. You had always pointed out the unfairness of him having such long lashes but never doing anything to them.

"I'm not letting you come close to my eyes with that thing," he firmly stated, causing you to let out a sigh of frustration.

“Wait, what’s that behind you?” While you didn't expect him to actually fall for it, he momentarily looked over his shoulder, and in that split second, you swiftly jumped over the couch, landing right on top of him with a victorious war cry.

"C'mooon," he protested, but his hands instinctively found their place on your hips, keeping you in place.

"I'm just going to apply a little bit," you said innocently, moving closer to his face. He remained silent, which caught you off guard, considering how vehemently he had opposed the idea just moments ago.

His gaze was fixed on you, and you took it as an opportunity to concentrate on your task. You were so focused on not accidentally poking his eyes that you failed to notice what his hands were doing. He started slowly caressing your hips, it seemed like he was doing it unconsciously at first but then he started gently pinching and groping and it was getting harder for you to keep your hand steady.

"Does it usually take you this long to do this?" he asked, looking upwards as you worked the mascara brush on his lashes.

"Well, excuse me, but you're distracting me," you responded, pausing for a moment to give him an accusing look. When he met your gaze, you almost dropped the brush because of how absurdly beautiful he looked. His eyes appeared larger, framed by the now even longer and darker lashes. Despite his frown and occasional uncomfortable blinking, he looked mesmerizing.

You brought the back of your hand to your mouth, trying to hide the smile threatening to escape. However, he caught your gesture and gently took your hand, placing a kiss on it. "What are you smiling at? Do I look that ridiculous?" he asked, his voice lowering in tone.

"No," you replied, your voice slightly faltering. "You look good." If he hadn't already sensed your flustered state from the way your voice trembled, he certainly did when you flinched in response to his hands grabbing your thighs and pulling you down closer to him.

"Really? Show me then," he said, his gaze fixed on you. For a moment, you were confused, dazed by the way he was looking at you. Then it clicked, and you understood what he meant. Without hesitation, you pulled out your phone to take a picture of him.

As you captured the shot, you couldn't help but bite your lip at how intimate it looked. He was looking up at you through his eyelashes, a slight smile playing on his lips. The image clearly showed the fact that you were straddling him, his hands resting on your thighs. You knew you'd have to delete this picture after showing him because your best friends were notoriously nosy, and the last thing you wanted was for them to stumble upon a photo of you practically riding your roommate.

"Are you gonna show me or..." his voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you cleared your throat, handing him the phone. You would have gotten off his lap by now if it weren't for his hand still holding you firmly in place.

"Mhmm..." he hummed approvingly as he looked at the picture. "I like it. I'm sending it to myself."

"What? No, no," you panicked, attempting to grab your phone, but he held it out of reach, lifting it over his head. Retrieving it would mean getting even closer to him. Instead, you gave him a death stare and an expression that clearly said, 'Seriously dude?'

"If you like it so much, I can just take another one of just you," you pleaded.

"But I like this one because you're in it too," he responded, raising an eyebrow.

Your stomach dropped, and before you could form a coherent response, Jaemin propped himself up on his elbows, your phone abandoned somewhere behind him. His face was now incredibly close to yours, his minty breath filling the space between you. You couldn't move away, and if you're honest with yourself, you wouldn't even if you could. After two years of being roommates with Jaemin, you had grown used to him being clingy and affectionate, and while you had found yourself on his lap on previous occasions, it had never escalated to this level of intensity.

Unconsciously, you bit your lip, a nervous habit of yours, catching Jaemin's attention. He lifted his hand and gently caressed your bottom lip with his thumb, causing you to cease the biting. Now his focus was entirely on your lips, and perhaps it was your imagination, but he seemed to be getting closer. "Don't bite these pretty lips; you'll roughen them up," he whispered in your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Sorry..." you murmured instinctively, your voice sounding small and vulnerable. It was a clear indication that he was flustering you.

There were so many alarms going off in your head, warning you of the dangerous territory you were about to venture into. If you were smart, you would heed those warnings and run away.

"Okay, well, I'm done here, so..." you began to say, your voice trailing off.

"Are you? But there's a space here that needs taking care of," he pointed towards his eye, and as you leaned closer, you struggled to see anything out of the ordinary.

"What? Whe-" Your words were abruptly swallowed by his lips as they pressed against yours, catching you completely off guard. A whimper escaped your lips, met with a low grunt from him, as he skillfully moved his lips against yours. His hands found their way up from your hips to your waist, exploring the exposed skin revealed by your riding-up shirt. The kiss started off gentle but quickly escalated, his lips and hands working their way up your body. It was you who deepened the kiss, prodding him with your tongue, silently asking for entry. He sighed contently, granting you access, and the kiss grew wetter and more intense as your tongues danced together. His hips began to buck up, creating a delicious friction between your cores, eliciting moans from both of you.

There was no turning back now. You were well aware of it, and Jaemin seemed to understand too, as he pulled away from the kiss, suggesting, "Maybe we should move to the bed."

The implications made your lower stomach churn with a mix of excitement and nervousness, but you nodded, a smile playing on your lips.

"Let's go, pretty boy," you said teasingly, before darting away, Jaemin hot on your heels, eagerly chasing after you.

part 2

feedback is greatly appreciated! <3

[foxy-eva]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Summary: Spencer was the right person at the wrong time, no doubt about it. When you’re finally back in town, you’re ready for a fresh start. 

Request: Exes with Feelings, Having an Argument, Finding Comfort in Each Other's Arms

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Category: Fluff, Comfort 

Content Warnings: mentions past break-up and fighting, a little misunderstanding, heavy kissing

Word count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins New Beginnings Writing Challenge

Masterlist

Endless hours of late-night phone calls. More time spent on planes than inside each other’s arms. Weekends that were never quite long enough.  

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder,” Spencer said. 

He was nothing but supportive of your decision to take an internship on the other side of the country. There was no doubt that the two of you could make this work, you were soulmates after all. 

“So fond it sometimes starts hurting,” you added. 

Neither of you expected that what should have been a temporary arrangement could turn into something more permanent. But when you got offered a full-time position for your dream job, you had to make the most difficult decision of your life. 

“You could come with me, you know,” you told him after letting him in on your decision to take the job offer. He only shook his head. 

“Why is your job more important than mine?” You hissed, angry that he wasn’t even considering that option. When he didn’t answer, you added, “Why is your job more important than me?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Neither of you wanted to end this relationship but after that argument you knew it was inevitable. Spencer’s stubbornness stood in the way of him begging you to stay, even though you wished for nothing more than one of those cheesy airport scenes from the romcom movies you liked to watch together. 

He never showed up, though. 

It was hard to believe that all of that happened almost a year ago. The heartache never fully went away and it got worse now that you were back, walking the streets of a city you once called home. Your job made you happy for a while but after months of trying and failing to make new friends, you had to admit to yourself that you missed your old life. 

And more than anything, you missed Spencer. 

The city still felt familiar as you stepped closer to the apartment building you spent so many days and nights in. It was almost like no time had passed when you walked up the stairs to Spencer’s apartment. The hallway still carried the same scent of old wood and the steps still creaked underneath your feet. Before you had reached his door another memory flooded your mind. 

Turning your head, you looked down the hallway and remembered how Spencer spun you around right there in a little impromptu dance when you came home from one of Rossi’s infamous dinner parties. You were happy then - some might even call you naive - and so convinced that you’d spend the rest of your life with the man of your dreams. 

The more you got lost in reminiscing about times long gone, the more you could almost feel the warmth Spencer always radiated. Your skin started tingling where he used to press his palms against you, holding your close as if nothing could ever come between the two of you. 

You sighed as you let those memories go. There were so many uncertainties as you stepped closer to his door. You weren’t sure if he still lived here and you didn’t know if he had found someone else to keep close since you left. The rational part of your brain knew that you should have called him before showing up, that he might not even want to see you. 

But those past months you recognized that you were nothing but a fool when it came to love and romance. He didn’t show up at the airport for you but a part of you still believed he would take you back just like the people in those romcoms always did. 

Relief washed over you when you found his name still written on the door of apartment 23. 

Three knocks. No answer. 

You lingered for a few moments to listen for any movement behind his door but there was none. Spencer wasn’t home and your life really wasn’t some corny movie. 

As you walked away from his door you contemplated your options. Maybe you should send him a text or even write him a letter to let him know you’re back in town. 

Or maybe you should just let it go. 

Just when you reached the last step, a tall curly-haired man entered the building. You recognized him instantly, many moments before he even realized that you were there. He greeted the doorman before turning his head towards the staircase and spotting you. 

Spencer’s face was impossible to read and looked nothing like you imagined whenever you dreamed about running into him again. Where you hoped to find a bright smile, only a thin line was visible. He looked as if he wasn’t sure you were real, as if he couldn’t trust his own eyes. 

“Hi Spencer,” you broke the silence. 

“H..Hi,” he stammered as he stepped closer. “What are you doing here?” 

I’m trying to win you back. I came to tell you how much I miss you. I want to start over. I’m still in love with you. 

There were many things you could have answered but none of the obvious explanations made it past your lips. Instead you said, “I have a job interview.” 

Spencer was confused and raised his eyebrows. “In my building?”

“No, not here of course,” you awkwardly laughed. “I have a job interview here in DC tomorrow. And I thought I’d come by to say hi.” 

Spencer just stood there like a doe caught in the headlights. It still seemed like he had a hard time processing what was happening. 

Right when he wanted to open his mouth, a raven-haired woman entered the building behind him. She was almost as tall as him and absolutely gorgeous. 

“Hey, are you ready to leave?” She asked when Spencer turned around to look at her. 

“I’ll be there in a second,” he answered before finding your eyes again. “I’m sorry but now is not a good time. Can I call you later?” 

Of course he had found someone else. 

You were too late. 

“Don't worry about it!” You said and quickly walked away from the most awkward situation you had ever been in. 

When you were almost around the corner, you heard Spencer call out your name, followed by, “Please wait!” 

Turning around, you found him running towards you. He slowed down the closer he got, coming to a halt about an arm-length away from you. He looked back and you followed his sight, spotting the woman getting into a car. She didn't drive away, instead it seemed like she was waiting for him. 

It was as if you were struck by lightning when you suddenly felt Spencer's arms wrapping around you. A hug was the last thing you had expected in that moment. It took you a moment to reciprocate the gesture, your arms closing around his body as if no time had passed since you last got a chance to do that. 

Never before had an embrace felt so healing. Like two lost puzzle pieces finally finding their way back to each other. You instantly felt the warmth he radiated entering your body and flooding through you.  

For a few seconds it was nice to pretend that no time had passed but once you remembered her, reality came crashing down on you. You wanted him to be happy more than anything but you couldn't deny that you still wished it could be you who he’d find happiness with. 

You were the first to let go, slowly stepping back to find his eyes. “I’m glad you found someone. She seems lovely,” you said while attempting to smile. 

“What..? Oh you mean Tara?” He turned his head to look back at her car for a second. “She’s my new coworker. I’m actually on the job right now, it’s a local case. I was just stopping by the apartment to grab some books I needed.”

Oh. 

“I really gotta get back to Quantico now. Where are you staying?” 

You mentioned the name of the friend you were staying with and told him, “I’m sorry I came by unannounced. You usually have Sundays off so I thought I’d give it a try.”

Spencer smiled at you and said, “No, I’m glad you did. It might be late when I get back tonight but I would really like to talk more.”

“I’m still a night owl,” you snickered. “Just call me when you're on your way home.” 

Several hours passed until your phone finally rang. The call was short, just a simple agreement you’d meet him at his place in about thirty minutes. 

When you stood in front of his door this time, you almost didn't have the courage to knock. After taking a deep breath, you did it anyway. 

As if he had been waiting right at the other side of the door, he opened immediately and let you step inside. 

“I like the way you wear your hair now. It looks great,” he complimented you. 

You noticed that he looked different, too. His hair was longer but his curls still seemed unruly. Just like they used to when you still had the chance to let your fingers brush through them. 

You smiled at him. “You look good, too.” 

It seemed like time had stood still inside his apartment. A few more books were scattered around and it looked a little more messy than what you were used to, but all in all it was still very familiar. Muscle memory led you to the same spot on his couch you always liked to sit in. 

Spencer followed you, taking his seat beside you. It was hard to find the right words when you looked into his eyes. The color of his irises reminded you of wild honey, so warm and alluring you couldn't get enough of looking at them. 

Before you got too lost, Spencer decided to start the conversation. 

“So, you have a job interview tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, I do,” you confirmed. “I want to move back here. I miss DC.” 

I miss you, was what you really wanted to say. 

“What about your job in Seattle?” 

You just shrugged and mumbled, “I’m ready for something new, I guess. Seattle never felt like home.” After a moment of uncomfortable silence you added, “I never should have left.”

Spencer shook his head. “Eventually, you would have regretted not taking that chance. And you probably would have resented me for that.”

“I never thought I would be someone who chose career over love,” you confessed. 

“It’s not that simple,” he disagreed. “I was just too stubborn and hurt to see it back then. It took several months until I could understand that I was trying to hold you back from starting a promising career. That wasn’t fair. I could have easily transferred to the Seattle field office or maybe start teaching at a university there. At the time you didn't have the same opportunities here in DC.” 

His words surprised you. It was an admission you never thought you’d hear from him.

“You wanted to choose love and career by asking me to come with you,” he continued, his tone laced with pain. “I was the one who chose his career over love. And I really regret that.”

“Spencer,” you whispered as you moved closer to him. “I missed you so much.” 

He reached out his hand to touch yours. “I missed you, too.”

His touch let something snap inside you, suddenly you were not able to hold back any longer. Without a warning your lips found his, feverishly kissing him as if you could somehow make up for lost time. 

He didn't seem surprised about your display of affection. Instead he reciprocated the kiss with a similar amount of enthusiasm. It was not enough though, there was still too much space between you. 

It was obvious that Spencer felt the same way, his hands pressing against your body until you had found your way into his lap. Between heavy breaths and lips brushing against one another, you started to forget your surroundings. 

Your chest was pushed flush against his, your racing heart sensing its counterpart inside his ribcage and skipping several beats. 

“Please, Spencer,” you whimpered against his lips, unable to let everything in your mind spill from your mouth. 

I’m sorry for leaving you. Please give me another chance. I love you. 

There was no need for those words to be spoken. Spencer understood anyway. 

“I’m yours,” he cooed between more kisses. “I have always been yours.”

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @hotchandspencearedilfs @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @velvetthunder93 @saturnstringz @missabsey @guacam011y @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @enamoradax @hales-17 @cham9ions @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr @luredwithpretzels @castiels-majestic-wings @super-nerd22 @pleasantwitchgarden @yeonalie @r-3dlips @evvy96 @torigorie @meyaareads

[grandline-fics]

Hey dear! I really love your writing,so so much! And if you were still open for requests I would love to see you write Smoker with the prompt 'Kiss to prove a point' If that is okay? <3 Thank you so much and thank you for sharing your amazing writing! <3

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Kiss to prove a point

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Smoker

WORDS: 1,276

A/N: Hi there! Thank you so much for this request, there's very Smoker love on my blog which I'll have to try and fix haha. I had a lot of fun coming up with the scenario for this prompt and I hope you like what I wrote.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

————————

When people looked at Smoker they took in the tall imposing figure; the broad shoulders, the scar, and the constant scowl and nearly hostile stare that kept everyone guessing on whether he was incapable of being in a good mood or if someone had pissed him off the second he woke up that morning. Some on the G5 base now joked that Smoker scowled when he was a kid and his face got stuck that way, his expression only changing to evoke angrier emotions, never positive ones. The subordinates of G5 obviously worshipped their commander, it was just they needed to find something to comment on, to joke about and use it as a way to see that he was human just like the rest of them. While focussing on Smoker’s constantly grumpy face was always a classic for them, a new topic had arisen to entertain the masses: his blossoming relationship with you.

The term blossoming was very, very loose for the G5 Marines because nothing in anyway juicy or scandalous had so much as occurred on the base between you two. At this point they would have  taken something borderline tame. Just something. Anything to show them that their boss was actually in a relationship. Because as far as they knew one morning they all came down to the mess hall and Tashigi gleefully passing along the news that you and Smoker were officially dating. That was it, just the Captain’s solid confirmation of the romance. Nothing changed though. You both were the visions of decorum and stellar professionalism. 

Now you were the more cheerful of the pairing-which wasn't hard by comparison- but when you and Smoker were seen talking in the corridors or in the other's office it was always respectable, enough space between you both as it had before Tashigi stated you were an item. There was no quick jolts out of each other’s presence like you’d almost been caught getting cosy, no flushed faces or lingering looks shared. Hell, no one had even seen you touch the other even something as simple as you putting your hand on his arm would have given them something. After a week of waiting they came to the conclusion that Smoker was clueless and they felt sorry for you.

“Should we say something?” One asked in the middle of the training yard one afternoon. “Not even in a prying way…maybe he just doesn’t know?”

“Know what?” A second questioned with a frown.

“Maybe he doesn’t know how relationships like this work?”

“Yeah he could be unknowingly neglecting them?” The third suggested make the first Marine nod firmly, happy that someone was on his wavelength.

“Exactly! It’s not prying exactly, just offering encouragement?” He stated with a proud smile. “And if the Vice-Admiral’s in good spirits then the entire base’s morale will improve too.”

“Guys…I’ve had a thought.” Another Marine uttered nervously. “What if it's too late? What if they’ve already broken up?” Silence fell over the group as they now considered the very possible scenario. Poor you, already fed up of no change in your relationship with Smoker had ended things but you were both so professional that no one knew anything. 

“No!” One of the Marine’s laughed, more to convince himself that couldn't be the case. “Tashigi would have said!”

“What? So soon after telling us they were together?” The Marine asked with a solemn shake of their head. “Announcing a breakup so soon after would be a greater wound to Vice-Admiral Smoker’s pride than anything.” Once again the dejected silence fell over the group, mourning their commander and idol’s dead love life. 

Sharply behind the group, a loud and obvious throat was cleared and every Marine snapped their heads around to freeze and pale at the sight of Smoker staring down at them; arms folded, eyes narrowed, and teeth slowly grinding against the cigars in his mouth. “The point of the training yard is to actually train your bodies and skills, not train your tongues to gossip like teenagers.”

The group flinched at the harsh words but they swallowed their fear enough to meet his stare.

“W-we’re sorry sir but we-”

“I heard.” Smoker sharply cut off the pathetic excuse before he had to suffer hearing their ridiculous opinions in his personal life another time. “I just don’t know how any of it is your concern.”

“Morale!” Smoker rolled his eyes at their unified explanation. When in doubt, that always was their go-to reasoning for immaturity. One dared to continue with hope in their eyes. “Please at least tell us you haven’t blown things yet. Don’t be afraid to make them feel special, it’s okay to show you care.”

“I haven’t-” Smoker stopped himself to roughly run a hand down his face at exasperation at the group. He was beginning to consider he was being too soft with his subordinates and let out a sharp huff. This was all Tashigi’s fault. Why couldn’t she have kept her mouth shut? “You have no need to worry. Everything is…everything is fine.”

“Just fine?” One of the Marine’s questioned with a tense frown. “Sir…”

“What now?”

“Fine is how you describe the mess hall’s food…not a new relationship.” The Marine told him. “If you're not careful they could be seduced by someone who’s not afraid to even hold their hand.”

Smoker was about to launch into a full tirade at the group for meddling in his life and inferring he wasn’t treating you properly. He’d been very close to throttling them when they hadn’t realised he was there and neglecting you in some way. Now hearing it being said to his face only angered him more. Thankfully for their benefit, you’d appeared in the training yard in search of another Marine. Your eyes locked on to the Marine in question, spotting him amongst the group in front of Smoker and began to approach.

Feeling something snap in him, Smoker swiftly discarded his cigars and closed the space just as you drew closer. You gave him a cursory nod and prepared to step around him, only to gasp when Smoker’s arm caught you around the waist and turned you to face him properly. Your eyes widened when Smoker’s lips settled over yours, luring you into a slow and gentle kiss. As always with Smoker, his presence enveloped you completely, settling you into a sense of calm and had you responding to the kiss immediately while quickly forgetting your surroundings. The second you returned the kiss Smoker heightened it once more, inwardly smirking in satisfaction at your eager reaction and the fact that this would now promptly shut up his squad and teach them to never doubt him or his ability to know how relationships work. 

Reluctantly Smoker parted and pressed a final peck against your still parted lips. Blinking out of your daze you stared up at your lover, breathless and pleasantly surprised. Pressing your lips together you finally felt you were being stared at and glanced to the side to see your slack-jawed audience and cleared your throat, forcing a polite smile to the group before looking away again. “It’s not our anniversary is it?” You asked softly to Smoker while he offered you a rare chuckle that was often left when you were both in private.

“Nah, everything’s fine.” He told you, finally releasing you. “Don’t think about it.”

“Easy for you to say, I’ll be thinking about this all day.” You laughed before walking away, the kiss effectively making you forget why you even came out to the training yard in the first place.

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa@kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Broken Glass was SO GOOD!! Could you write something like that but with Auston?😯

Did this slightly different than Broken Glass just so it wasn't a duplicate post with Auston copy-and-pasted in place of Quinn.

Still high drama, still a hospital moment, still copious amounts of hurt/comfort! But thanks for the compliment, babe! 🩷

Also, I wrote this in one sitting to try and keep things more fluid. Apologies in advance for proofing.

That being said: C|W : implied alcohol use, physical trauma, minor depictions of bodily injury, mentions of blood W|C : 2k

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"What? Oh yeah, I'm not going that far, just the next block over or so. You guys are good!"

Girl's Night plus a best friend's birthday had made for an evening full of an over-abundance of laughter, stories, and alcohol. Auston had been on the road the last week and a half but was due home in the morning. His absence had flared your depression the last few days, so you were thankful for the welcomed distraction. The night was finally coming to and end and it was time to say goodbyes and go home, however hard it was.

"Are you sure?" Stressed one of your friends, the mother hen of the group.

"Yeah, I promise. I'm not leaving Auston's car downtown over-night. I'll be fine."

She sighed, her breath like smoke against the cool Canadian air. You could tell she wasn't convinced about you walking alone at night back to the car, but there was nothing to be done about it. He had been nice enough to let you drive it while he was gone, and you were going to make sure nothing happened to it.

"Text me when you get home, please."

You had to laugh, "Yes, mom."

Waiting around until all of them piled into the cab, you waved goodbye before starting off on your own. By now, Auston's game was long over and you were eager to talk to him if even just for a few minutes -- if he'd answer his phone.

"Hey mama," he said smiling when he answered your video call. His hair was wet and his eyes expressed his exhaustion but you were happy to see him regardless, and he seemed just as pleased to have you light up his phone.

"Hi, handsome," you replied, stopped at a crosswalk. "I saw you guys got a win! I had the game on at dinner."

Auston laughed, running a hand through his hair while never breaking eye contact with you. "We did yeah, we needed it. How was tonight?"

The light changed.

"It was good. The girls just left to go home.”

Auston’s expression narrowed slightly, “Are you alright to drive home?”

“Yes,” you whined. Deep down, you knew everyone was just showing that they cared about you, but sometimes you wished they had a little more faith.

“Just making sure you’re safe, mama.”

“I know,” you sighed, feeling regret over giving him the subtle attitude. “Trust me, they all but pulled me into the cab before they left. I only had a few glasses of wine, and like I told them, I’m not leaving your car parked all night.”

“You’re more important than a car.” By now, Auston’s brows were pulled in, sharp wrinkles forming beneath them. He didn’t show you his serious expression very often, but when he did, you knew it was for a reason.

“Baby, I’m fine. I knew I had to drive home, so I was careful. I’m not even giggly!”

You had the ability to melt his stern demeanor so easily, and this moment was another of those times. Almost instantly, his brown eyes were warm again as was his tone, “I just don’t want anything to happen to you. I need you safe -- always. Who else am I going to hold at night?”

His wink killed you. “Oh stop! You’re so dramatic!”

“I love you, mama.”

“I love you, too,” you confessed, feeling everything return to a normal playing field. “Are you guys flying home in the morning still?”

“Yeah, we’ll head to the airport first thing in the--”

Your phone would fly out of your hand, somersaulting across the pavement. On Auston’s end, he initially thought you had simply dropped it, but after he heard your screams he immediately flew into panic mode. Three teenagers had just jumped you from behind, one hitting you on the back of the head with something heavy which had taken you knees out from under you. You’d crumple into a ball on the sidewalk, but that was right where they wanted you. There were forceful kicks to your ribs as well as punches to your face. Never had you ever felt such intense pain in your life. This was a literal nightmare.

The taste of copper in your mouth was strong; the lack of air in your lungs made you think you were going to die. You couldn’t hear Auston’s yelling through the phone for the ringing in your years. You attackers wouldn’t see it either, as the phone had fallen screen down, up against a store front.

They were laughing at you; that you couldn’t unhear.

The beating felt like forever, but in reality only lasted a couple minutes or so. They took your Gucci bag Auston had just bought you for your birthday, as well as his keys before running off, leaving you laid out against the damp concrete. With shallow breathing and heavy eyelids, you’d feel the world fade in on you. It wouldn’t be until the ambulance’s sirens and personnel got to you that you’d be painfully reminded of the night’s turn of events.

Everything was a blur.

You were in and out of consciousness on the ride to the hospital. The bright, white overhead lights stung your throbbing head too much to bear. Every bump, every turn of the vehicle made you wonder if your bones were made of glass, and if all of them were shattered. Misery. All of it, every feeling.

- - -

“It’s going to be a long road. She’s going to need someone who can be around her consistently for some weeks. There’s no way she can take care of herself in this condition, and I’m sure you know that.”

You weren’t sure if you were in a medially induced coma or having some sort of out-of-body experience. You could hear the nurse speaking, and you thought you had heard Auston’s voice a time or two, but then again, maybe that had just been wishful thinking.

“I know it’s hard to see her this way, but the surgeries went well. We’re just keeping her here because she had so much trauma. The doctor will come up with a timetable on her release time over the next few days. There’s a lot of swelling we’re keeping an eye on, and we don’t want to send her home too early.”

Halfway through the conversation you found yourself counting the beeps coming from your heart monitor instead of who was talking in the room with you. You were alive, somehow, but you couldn’t remember getting here.

“We’ll be back at the top of the hour to check on her again, you’re more than welcome to stay.”

The door shut softly, but your eyes rolled to the left, beneath swollen and closed eyelids. Someone had sat down beside you.

“Baby, I love you,” you heard Auston mumble, voice pained like he was on the verge of tears. “I love you so much. So, so much.”

With whatever strength you could muster, you forced your eyes open. “Auston,” you could only whisper.

His ability to speak was gone. Just seeing you in that hospital bed had crushed him, let alone hearing your attack happen in real-time. You couldn’t ignore the tears silently rolling down his cheeks as his chin came to rest on the edge of the bed.

“I love...you.” Speaking was hard for you, the tubes down your throat for anesthesia had caused the hoarseness, making each word labored.

“Don’t speak, baby. It’s okay.” He was trying so hard not to break down, at least not in front of you. His eyes were red, either from not sleeping last night or from previous emotional episodes. Either way, he was losing the battle of being strong in front of you. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. I-- I--,” he closed his eyes, trying to collect himself.

With your left hand, you moved it away from your body to touch his hand. Auston seemed reluctant to touch you, likely from fear of causing you more unnecessary pain, but you reaching out to him, he swallowed up your hand with both of his. His touch was warm, so soothing against the cold nature of hospitals. All you wanted to do was crawl into his arms and let him hide you away from the nightmares of your reality.

“I called the police as soon as I heard what was happening,” he confessed, trying to shake the sounds of your cries that were replaying in his mind at the mention of last night’s chain of events.

“Your car!?” You remembered the boys stealing your bag, and everything you had in it.

Auston did his best to shush you concerns, rising to his feet to give you a much needed kiss. Your bottom lip was split, but you needed to feel him against your lips. This accident aside, it had been over ten days since you had seen him. What unfortunate circumstances you had to reconnect on.

“Don’t worry about anything but yourself, sweetheart, please. The police are working on it. Like I said last night, you mean way more to me than any car. Those are so easily replaced-- you aren’t.”

Your eyes were both blackened, swollen, and stinging against the light of the room, yet Auston looked at you like you were the most beautiful woman in the world, because to him, you always would be. He knew your heart, making the inside always more stunning than the out.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. Okay as much as you can be,” he stumbled. “When you went quiet I thought I lost you, baby.”

You were both crying now. Fuck, if you could just have him hold you.

“I’m going to call my mom later and see if she’ll fly up and stay with you while you recover, okay? I caught a red-eye last night so I could get back to you sooner than this morning. I just knew I couldn’t sit in that hotel knowing what had happened. I used Mitch’s phone to call the police. I couldn’t bring myself to end the video call, even though you didn’t have your phone. They recovered it, though. So...there’s that,” his voice dropped off. There were a lot of memories on that phone.

“Auston?” Again, your words were whispers, but he heard you easily.

“What is it, baby?”

You had never seen him look so sad -- ever. He knelt back down, his elbows now resting on the bed as he looked at your broken body before him. As carefully as he could, he touched your face with the back of his fingers.

“I’m sorry.”

Fresh tears pours down his face at you’re quiet apology. There was the sharpest pain in his chest, but he would hide it for you. He was already ashamed that he had allowed himself to cry in front of you, with you dealing with so much already.

“Baby, no, please-- please don’t apologize. You didn’t do a single thing wrong. None of this is your fault, okay? You didn’t deserve this.”

You couldn’t help but think that if you had just gotten in that cab, you’d be in bed with Auston, back at home, instead of laying in the ICU wing in the hospital with numerous broken bones and healing wounds. If only... As you looked at him, you had a feeling he knew what you were thinking.

“You had no way of knowing, sweetheart. It’s unfortunate, but sometimes things just happen, and I hate so much that it had to be you.”

Every gasp for air burned pain across your whole chest, and Auston did what he could to calm you down, although he felt like he was running blind in the situation.

“I’ve a few days off, okay? I’m not going to leave your side. I’m not leaving you here alone. I can’t,” he paused for a moment before putting his forehead to your temple. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you. Never again.”