#the heart is temporary i just love her a lot okay

[the-insomniac-emporium]

yesterday I made a joke that my art of Mia would look more like her once I added the blood and honestly I think I was right asdfghjkl;

obviously the other details help, too, but still

[cleo-fox]

Overtime

Summary: Sometimes, working overtime isn’t all that bad.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ minors DNI, sex, cunnilingus, teasing, light bondage, office romance.

Series: Overtime (I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel).

A/N: This was largely written prior to season 2 and posted right before episode 4, so it’s not entirely canon compliant and the parts that are may be compliant by accident.

Also, @give-me-a-moose and I were on a similar wavelength about Loki angrily reading romance novels and I would strongly recommend checking out her fic The Imagine Nation if you too are enthralled by this idea.

You don’t think that Mobius intended to keep Loki’s desk behind yours.

“It’s temporary,” he tells you apologetically. “He just needs somewhere to go for now, until I figure out what to do with him.”

“You’re talking about him like he’s a stray cat that you found,” you say.

“You won’t even know he’s there, I promise.”

“You’re still doing it.”

Mobius sighs and puts on his most sincere, earnest expression—the one that he always uses when he’s about to ask you for a stupidly massive favor.

And it’s only because you almost never, ever see this look from him that you back down.

“Okay, fine,” you say. “But he’d better be on his best behavior.”

Mobius puts his palms together and tips them toward you. “Thank you. You will not regret this, I promise.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Just remember this next time you’re budgeting for raises.”

But then—in a move that you certainly don’t expect—Loki ends up sticking around. And, in the subtle way that the stray you’ve been feeding slowly turns into your cat, Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. And strangely enough, Mobius’ assurances turn out to be more correct than not: Loki does a lot of fieldwork and is often away; when he is at his desk, it tends to be because he is working on more complicated missions, the ones that require poring over mountains of files looking for patterns and trying to untangle the slippery mess of time itself.

Your work is decidedly less glamorous than Loki’s—almost no fieldwork, lots of files. Endless files. Some days you feel as though you must have seen every file in the TVA’s extensive library and then you’re immediately proven wrong by another wing of filing cabinets that you swear wasn’t even there before.

Although he is generally well-behaved as your desk neighbor, Loki’s presence has a way of distracting you. Even if you didn’t know who he was, your gaze would still naturally drift his way, lingering on those regal cheekbones, that ink black hair, that cunning smirk. The way that the fabric of his dress pants clings to his thighs certainly doesn’t help, to say nothing of how his forearms look with his shirtsleeves rolled up. He can make your heart start to race with no more than a casual glance in your direction and god help you if he gives you one of those devastating smiles. Luckily, you don’t think he takes that much notice of you. You have the sort of pleasantly dull exchanges of coworkers who don’t really know each other and he is almost painfully polite to you. It’s a strong departure from the way he interacts with others—with others, he is bold, charming, sarcastic, talkative, a far cry from the more subdued, almost courtly tone he strikes with you. It’s a difference that is so stark that you can’t help but attribute it to some sort of negative feeling on his end.

“How’s it going with Loki?” Mobius asks you during a one-on-one meeting a couple of months after Loki’s temporary desk becomes his permanent desk. “He’s behaving himself, right?”

“It’s been fine,” you say, “though truthfully, I don’t think he likes me all that much.”

“What? Of course he likes you,” Mobius says. “Why wouldn’t he like you? You’re lovely.”

You shrug. “I dunno, he’s just different with me than he is with everyone else. Like…overly polite. It’s like he thinks I’m going to send him to the principal’s office or something.”

“Let me get this straight,” says Mobius. “First you were worried that he wouldn’t behave himself and now you’re worried that he’s too well-behaved?”

Privately, you realize he has a point. Outwardly, though, you’re not going to admit it. The sardonic tilt of Mobius’ mouth suggests that he knows this.

“No, I just…I don’t think he likes me all that much,” you say. “And he’s entitled to that. People don’t like each other all the time, it’s not a big deal.”

This is also a little bit of a lie—you do wish he liked you. Loki is so magnetic it’s hard not to want his attention. And with the matter of your silly little crush, well…that doesn’t help either.

Mobius sighs. “I think you’re overthinking this. He likes you, sometimes it just takes him a little time to warm up. He’s a bit of a prickly guy.”

You bite down the urge to point out that you’ve seen him warm to other people almost immediately. This conversation has already gone on longer than you want and you are edging dangerously close to having to admit that you care so much because you have a big stupid crush on him, which is obviously unacceptable.

“Well, the point is that it’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to project an aura of cool confidence. “I don’t have any complaints, he seems like he’s settling in, so let’s move on. Did you have any feedback on my recent report?”

The furrow between Mobius’ eyebrows deepens just slightly, the only indication that he doesn’t fully believe you. But for whatever reason, he decides to let it go and follows your change in topic without further comment.

This is one of the reasons you like Mobius as much as you do: he always seems to know the right moment to push and the right moment to bend.

You’re not sure if your relationship with Loki would have changed had it not been for the problem of Charles Berlitz.

The joke around the office is that after Mobius convinced Loki to work for the TVA, he needed something new to obsess over and Charles Berlitz was the next best option. It’s hard to say exactly who Berlitz is, as he has a tendency of showing up, well…everywhere. He is quite literally in every timeline, at least as far as anyone can tell. Sometimes he is an author, penning serious, scholarly essays on outlandish theories like the Bermuda Triangle and the Philadelphia Experiment. He seems to have a fondness for all manner of schemes—he was responsible for introducing both homeopathy and multi-level marketing to no fewer than sixty different timelines. His ability to peddle bullshit naturally led him to politics—pick any rebellion, coup, or campaign on any given timeline and there’s a good chance you’ll also find Charles Berlitz.

Scammers and con artists are not atypical in your line of work, but what makes Charles Berlitz an enduring mystery is that he has never been found. You can have reputable documentary evidence that Berlitz was present at a certain time and location, but if you show up to investigate, he is never there. There have been some glimpses over the years—a shadowy face in the back of a crowd, the hem of a cloak disappearing behind a corner—but nothing concrete or substantive.

“Our ghost in the timeline,” Mobius had said in one of his more poetic moments at an all staff meeting, his voice overly hushed and dramatic. You had seen Loki roll his eyes and you had to fake a coughing fit to hide your laugh.

Time moves differently at the TVA, so it’s hard to say how long Mobius has been working on this case when he makes a breakthrough, but it’s not terribly long after your conversation about Loki. A campaign button had been found in an apartment that Berlitz rented for two years in the French Quarter. That particular campaign button could only have existed in one specific timeline and its distribution was limited. You aren’t entirely clear on all of the details, but Mobius seems to have a plan.

And unfortunately, that plan involves you giving up most of your weekend to work.

It’s near quitting time on what passes for a Friday at the TVA. Loki has been in today and you can hear him starting to pack up. Technically, he’s got twenty minutes of work left, but you’re not about to tell him that.

You doodle absently on your notepad. Technically, you’ve also got twenty minutes of work left, but realistically: nothing is happening.

“Oh, great, you’re both still here.”

In general, this phrase has never meant good news for you and when you look up, you see Mobius with a sizable armful of files.

Also not a great sign.

Mobius plunks the stack of files directly on your desk. “There’s been a development with Berlitz. I need you both to review these now.”

“It’s Friday,” says Loki, affronted. “Surely it can wait until Monday.”

“No can do. I need this done by Sunday at the latest,” says Mobius. “This is an all hands on deck situation.”

Loki glances pointedly at the office around you, which has already started emptying out for the weekend.

“All hands on deck, but most hands are already in the field,” Mobius concedes. “Which is why I need the two of you—” He points to you. “You because you’re good—” He gestures to Loki. “And you because you’ve got desk duty.”

“I beg your pardon—” begins Loki.

“He’s grounded,” Mobius says to you in an exaggerated stage whisper.

This is not surprising to you: you had heard a rumor last week about an incident that had occurred on a mission to the inauguration of Richard Nixon and you suspect that these two events are likely connected.

You look at the pile of paperwork on your desk. You could probably get through it on your own in a couple of hours, but if Loki’s helping, maybe you still have a shot at having Saturday to yourself. You bite back a sigh. “What do you need me to find?”

“Anything that mentions anyone from the Lucchese crime family or Nero Variant N2815,” says Mobius. “I’ll go get the rest.”

Your heart sinks. Farewell, Saturday. “There’s more?” you say.

“It’ll be triple overtime, I already got it approved!” he calls over his shoulder

You sigh and glance at Loki who is scowling at the pile of files as though they’d wronged him personally.

There’s a long moment of silence before you speak. “Is there any truth to the rumor I’ve been hearing about the Nixon inauguration?” you ask.

“If it involved a hot air balloon, then yes,” he says rather tonelessly.

“Well.” You pause as you stare at the pile of papers. “At least it was worth it.”

That at least earns you a hint of a smile.

*

Several hours later, your stomach is growling and you’ve developed a rather impressive crick in your neck.

You lean back in your chair, stretching your neck to the side and rubbing the knot that is pulsing in your upper trapezius. Office work has done nothing positive for your posture in general, but tonight’s work has you hunched over more than usual and your neck is aching.

You and Loki have made good progress, but your pile of finished and sorted files is scarcely comparable to the full cart that Mobius had brought in. Back when the evening was new and you weren’t quite so tired, you’d been optimistic about possibly having half a Saturday free from work; that hope has slipped away the longer the evening has dragged on. Now you’re hoping that you’ll still have a bit of Sunday to yourself and even that feels unlikely.

Your stomach growls again. You should probably eat something—you’d worked through your regular dinner hour in a fit of misplaced optimism. The cafeteria is closed this time of night, but there’s a vending machine not far from your office that has shitty coffee and mostly edible sandwiches.

You stand and stretch, stifling a yawn as you turn around. “I’m gonna grab a coffee and some dinner,” you say. “Do you want anything?”

Loki looks up at you from the file in front of him, blinking somewhat dazedly and running a hand through his messy curls. “I’d like to stretch my legs a bit, if you don’t mind the company.”

You honestly didn’t expect him to want to join you. It’s a pleasant surprise, certainly, but also a little nerve wracking in the way that interacting with Loki always is. He’s so handsome and aloof and you’re not quite sure how to talk to him without acting like a total fool.

But you’re also not about to say no, either.

“Of course,” you say, “I don’t mind at all.”

The TVA is unusually quiet at this time of night—the steady hum of fluorescent lights and the murmur of distant voices is all that accompanies the tap of your shoes on the linoleum. It only heightens the jittery, nervous feeling you get from Loki—like your stomach is filled with drunk, lightning struck butterflies.

“Are you finding much?” asks Loki as you enter the hallway together.

You shrug. “A bit. Mostly on the Nero variant. I’m not having as much luck with the Luccheses.”

“I’ve got all of their property transfers, I think,” he says. “Renato Lucchese never met a vineyard he didn’t like.”

“Or racehorses, from what I understand,” you say. “I think that’s how he lost most of his money.”

You arrive at the vending machines. Loki looks at the vending machines and then back at you, a somewhat puzzled and troubled expression on his face.

“This is what you meant when you said you were going to get coffee and dinner?”  he says.

You shrug. “Yeah, what’s wrong with this?”

He points at the coffee machine. “Mobius calls that machine Satan’s coffeemaker, does he not?”

“Yes, but I know how to trick it into giving me something that’s almost palatable,” you say.

Loki gives you a rather dry look. “Something that’s almost palatable?”

“I mean, I’m just trying to manage your expectations. It’s still pretty shitty coffee, it just tastes less burned.”

He looks at you for a long moment before tilting his head toward the hallway. “Come on, let’s go.”

It’s your turn to look skeptical. “What are we doing?”

“We’re going out for dinner.”

*

He takes you to a twenty-four hour diner called Frank’s that’s maybe a five minute walk from the TVA. It’s one of those places with yellowing Formica tables and big booths covered in red faux leather patched with the occasional square of duct tape. It smells like coffee and grease with a faint odor of cigarette smoke despite the prominent no smoking signs.

“I wouldn’t have thought this kind of place was your style,” you say as you sit down in a booth next to the window.

“I’ve expanded my horizons,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you.

An older woman with greying blonde hair approaches your booth. She wears a nametag reading “Connie” in big capital letters, a sticker of a pink cat stuck on the space next to her name.

“How y’all doin’ tonight?” she says as she hands you each a laminated menu. She looks at Loki. “You want your usual?”

“Please,” he says.

“You got it.” She turns to you. “How ‘bout you, hon, can I get ya started with something to drink?”

“Coffee would be great.”

“All right, I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

You raise your eyebrows at Loki as she walks away. “You eat at diners and you have a usual order. My expectations are being completely upended.”

He returns your pleasantly amused expression. “And you have vending machine coffee for dinner. It’s a revealing night.”

“I mean, I don’t actively seek it out,” you say. “It’s a convenient option that I exercise only when I have no other choice.”

“No other choice?” A sly smile curls at his lips. “Do you not have the entire array of space and time at your fingertips?”

“Well, first of all, we aren’t supposed to use TemPads for personal errands without a supervisor’s approval.”

“Technically.”

“No, actually. It’s in the personnel manual. Like verbatim.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You would put yourself through the egregious physical suffering of vending machine coffee simply to appease the capricious whims of our cruel overseer Miss Minutes?”

You bite back a laugh. “You know she’s not actually our boss, right?”

“I can’t discount that possibility. She wields a concerning amount of power within the organization.”

Connie is back with your drinks—coffee for you and tea for Loki. “Sunday Special?” she asks Loki as she sets a metal teapot and empty mug in front of him.

“Please,” he says.

“You got it.” She looks at you. “Didya get a chance to look at the menu or do you need a minute?”

You’re feeling a little daring. “I’ll try the Sunday Special as well.”

“All right, two Sunday Specials comin’ right up,” she says, collecting your menus.

“So, what’s in a Sunday Special?” you ask Loki as you take a sip of your coffee.

“Boiled fish eggs, mainly,” he says, pouring the hot water into his tea mug.

“Liar,” you say promptly.

He raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t even look at the menu, how could you know?”

“Places like this don’t serve fish eggs,” you say. “Way too unusual and definitely the wrong price point.”

“I suppose you’ll just have to see,” he says with a playful glint in his eyes. The easy charm that you’ve seen him use with the others is on full display and it’s enough to make you giddy. Maybe he doesn’t dislike you after all.

“Well, if it’s fish eggs, you’re picking up the bill,” you say, “and I’ll be getting something else instead.”

“You’d really hold me responsible for your impulsive dinner selections?”

“Yep. And I don’t even feel bad about it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you could be so unforgiving.”

“Well, you don’t know me all that well.”

“To be fair, you keep to yourself quite a bit.”

“A little bit,” you say. “But also to be fair, you haven’t really asked.”

“On work time?” he says, widening his eyes in mock horror. “That would mean write ups for both of us, I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I think I know enough about you to know that getting in trouble is not one of your primary concerns.”

He gives you a sly smile, like you’ve caught him out and he likes it. “That’s a diplomatic way to put it.” He takes a sugar packet from the dispenser on the table and tears it open before pouring it into his mug. “Well, we’re on break now, so you can safely tell me something about yourself.”

You drum your fingers on your coffee mug. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, this can’t be the only part of your life. Who are you outside the TVA? What did you do before this?”

That giddy feeling comes to a screeching halt and you take in a long, slow breath. It’s a simple question, one that most people can answer to some degree. For you, though, it’s a bit more complicated.

“Well,” you say. You take a sip of your coffee, mostly to give your hands something to do. “I don’t actually know—I chose not to remember when they gave me the option.”

You’re surprised by how gentle his eyes are when you look up. “My apologies,” he says, “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay,” you say and you really do mean it. “You couldn’t have known.”

Usually, you say something like this and then gently redirect the conversation, but something about the way he’s looking at you makes you want to continue. Like maybe he understands difficult things and doesn’t mind hearing about something that others would shy away from.

“When they told us everything and said they could fix our memories…” You clear your throat and focus your gaze just above his shoulder. “It’s weird, but I just had a feeling that it wouldn’t be good for me to know…that something really bad had happened. So I asked Mobius to check for me, just to be sure…” You swallow, blinking hard.

You remember how sad Mobius’ eyes were, how he’d gently placed a hand on your shoulder and said, “I think you’re making the right call, kid.”

“It’s not really okay, is it?” Loki says softly.

You shrug. “I mean, it’s…it is what it is.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

“It’s not a lie—”

He raises a skeptical eyebrow and you remember that he is, in fact, the god of lies.

“It’s more like…I can’t really miss what I don’t know, but at the same time, the reality of that absence hurts a little. So maybe not exactly okay, but not exactly not okay, either.”

There’s a lot of kindness in his gaze and you have to look away because it makes your head spin and your breath catch in your throat. “I’m not really sure if that makes sense,” you say.

“It does.”

There’s a silence between you, but it’s not uncomfortable.

“Do you…do you think you’d want to forget if you had that option?” You’re not entirely sure what prompts the question and you regret it almost as soon as it leaves your mouth. “I’m sorry, that’s probably too personal.”

He shakes his head and there’s a warmth in his eyes that you don’t expect. “I rather think I owe you one.” He pauses, running a finger around the rim of his mug. “Sometimes I do,” he says finally. “It can be quite painful remembering.” He worries his lip between his teeth. “But I’m not sure who I would be without the knowledge of my past, either.” His gaze flicks back to you. “What’s it like for you? Do you feel like you know who you are without those memories?”

It’s a good question—one you’ve never been asked. “I mean, it’s hard to say for sure. I think I do,” you say. “Sometimes I wonder if I was different in my timeline. Maybe I was kinder because I had different experiences that made me more empathetic. Maybe I wasn’t—maybe I was worse. Maybe I had a villain arc.”

He chuckles. “That doesn’t seem likely.”

“I dunno, maybe it explains the vending machine coffee and my fish egg related threats,” you say and you feel almost giddy when he returns your smile. “Or maybe I’m the same and all those experiences that shaped me are just scars I can’t see.” You shrug and take a sip of your coffee. “At the end of the day, though, that timeline is gone. I’m all that’s left. It’s sad, but it’s also freeing, in a way.”

He nods. “Mobius has said much the same.”

You smile slightly. “Our philosophies are similar, I suppose, though I think there are probably more bits of his past self in his present self than he realizes.”

Loki grins. “It’s the jet skis, isn’t it?”

“I mean, I just don’t think most normal people spend that much time expounding on the reliability of the Yamaha engine versus the pure, raw power of the Kawasaki.”

Loki holds up a finger. “But have you gotten the lecture about Yamaha’s braking system?”

“I think I have that memorized at this point.”

“‘The perfect choice for families.’”

“‘You just tap the brakes. Just tap them. Perfectly smooth stop every time.’”

“‘Reliability meets affordability.’”

“‘You can’t say no to that.’”

You think you probably could have riffed on this for a bit, but you’re interrupted by the arrival of Connie with your dinner.

The Sunday Special turns out to be a fairly traditional breakfast—eggs, hash browns, two fluffy pancakes, sausage, toast, a little bowl of strawberries.

“Definitely lots of fish eggs in this meal,” you say to Loki after Connie leaves.

His smile is small, but genuine. “You haven’t looked under the pancakes yet.”

You feel it then, but you don’t fully understand until later that this dinner has unlocked something important between the two of you. After months of awkward, stilted conversation, it’s like you finally understand how to talk to each other. And you’re surprised to find that even outside of your big stupid crush, you actually like Loki. You like his sly smiles and his dry humor and how easily the two of you fall into a routine of playful banter. You click in a way that surprises you, in a way that makes you mourn the lost potential of all those awkward, stilted months and feel giddy about the possibilities ahead.

Dinner is over too soon and you walk back to the TVA feeling revived from the coffee and the conversation. 

Disaster awaits you back at the office, though: you’d left a stack of the Nero variant files on your desk and evidently the construction was too precarious, as the entire pile had tipped off your desk and spilled to the floor, contents scattered everywhere.

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, running a hand through your hair. You’re not sure whether you want to laugh, cry, or scream. Possibly, it’s all three.

“Here.” Loki is bending down on the floor to gather the files. You studiously try to not ogle his ass or thighs. Or at least not obviously. “Clear off some space on your desk—I’ll help.”

Twenty minutes later, you’ve set up an entirely new system—Loki has dragged his chair over to your desk and the cart of unsorted files sits between you, like a surly metallic chaperone. And even later when you’ve sorted out all of the files from the floor, he remains parked at the end of your desk, a stack of new, unsorted files in front of him. Admittedly, it’s a lot more efficient for you to work like this: privately, though, it gives you a warm glow that has nothing to do with workplace efficiency.

“I’ve invented a new game,” he says some time later. 

“What’s that?”

“Every time either one of us finds documentation showing Renato Lucchese losing money on a racehorse he was told was not a good investment, I get to have a drink.”

You look up at him. “Look, I know you’re a god and everything, but I am pretty sure that will kill you.”

He sighs and tosses the file into the Lucchese pile. “I think it would add a little excitement to the evening, don’t you?”

You raise your eyebrows and look back at the file in front of you. “You mean this isn’t your idea of a fun Friday night?”

“My idea of a fun Friday night includes far fewer files and a lot more debauchery,” he says, taking a new file from the cart.

You glance at the clock. “Well, it’s only eleven. I don’t usually start body shots until after midnight.”

“What are body shots?”

For one horrifying moment, you think that you’re going to actually have to explain this to him, but then you get a good look at his expression.

He’s teasing you.

“You’re an ass,” you say, swatting him on the shoulder with the file you’re holding.

He wags a finger at you. “That’s workplace violence. I’m going to have to report that.”

You lean back in your chair and return to your file. “I’m pretty confident that you’ll be put off by the amount of paperwork that process requires.”

He shakes his head as he returns to his own file. “Uncontrolled bureaucracy is how bad actors escape accountability.” There’s a brief pause. “And…there’s another racehorse.”

You continue on like this for the rest of the evening, occasionally chatting and Loki proving definitively that the Renato Lucchese racehorse drinking game could not be played without resulting in a fatality. It’s nice, though. Yes, it’s sorting files and yes, it’s not the most intellectually riveting task you’ve ever done, but spending time with Loki is nice. It’s because of this that you find yourself trying to stay awake, pushing past your looming exhaustion.

But around two, you can’t quite fight the heaviness of your eyelids any longer and you doze off in the middle of a report on the sinking of the Lusitania.

“Hey.” Loki is gently shaking your shoulder. The way he says your name in that deliciously deep voice makes you want to swoon and you’re glad that you have the ready made excuse of sleepiness to explain any embarrassing behavior on your end.

“I think you’d better call it a night,” he says gently. “Get some sleep and come back with fresh eyes.”

“What about you?” you say. “Are you going to do the same, or are you just all talk?”

He smiles at you and it warms you to the very tips of your toes. You could bask in that smile like a cat in a sunbeam.

“I’m starting to fade a bit myself,” he says

“Very convenient,” you say and he grins at you.

“Come on, I’ll see you back home.”

Part of you wants to protest—there’s really no need for him to walk you home—but a larger, louder part of you wants to let it be, prolong the magic of tonight for just a little longer.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you walk out of the office together. 

“What time do you think you’re going to come in tomorrow?” he asks as you approach the residential wing. “It’s probably sensible to coordinate our efforts a bit.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point,” you say. “I was thinking nine, but that will be dependent on how much coffee I have.”

“Yes, about that,” he says. “I cannot stand idly by and watch you torture yourself with vending machine coffee.”

“Well, the cafeteria will be open, so I was going to torture myself with cafeteria coffee, which is at least thirty percent less over brewed.”

He clicks his tongue. “You’re not making a compelling case for yourself.”

“To be fair, it’s quite late and I’ve been staring at files for hours.”

“All the more reason to get decent coffee,” he says. “We’re going out for breakfast.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, we are?”

“Consider it an intervention,” he says. “I’ll come collect you at eight.”

You’re not quite sure if this is just his natural confidence and swagger coming through or if he’s flirting with you and this counts as a date.

“Where are we going?”

“I know a place.”

*

The place in question turns out to be a food cart in Central Park in 1998.

“Should I even bother asking if you have supervisor approval for this?” you say, looking skeptically at the time door glimmering before you.

Loki scoffs. “I don’t have a supervisor.”

“You do. It’s Mobius.”

“That can’t be right, we’re peers.”

“You’re absolutely not. Did you read any of the onboarding materials?”

He ignores your question. “I don’t see why I’d even need a supervisor, honestly.”

You snort. “Need I remind you of what happened at the Nixon inauguration?”

He spreads his hands in front of him. “It’s not my fault that I’m the only one with a sense of humor.”

“I’m not entirely sure that was the problem,” you say. “Gerald Ford is never going to be the same, from what I understand.”

Loki waves a dismissive hand. “He’ll be fine, the tail isn’t permanent. Now, are you coming or not?”

You roll your eyes at him and make a halfhearted complaint about proper protocol, but you know that you’re walking through that time door and not looking back. You knew that before he even posed the question.

The food cart is owned by a man named Samir who has a wide smile and booming laugh. He talks to Loki like he’s a friend and he tells you that you have the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. You are fairly certain he’s exaggerating, but you stuff a few extra bills into the tip jar anyway.

“I can’t believe you fell for that,” says Loki as you walk away, each carrying a coffee and a brown paper bag with a breakfast sandwich.

“Fell for what?” you say, batting your eyes at him. “I do have beautiful eyes.”

“I’ve heard him say that on at least thirty separate occasions.”

“Yeah, but this time he really meant it. I could tell.”

He rolls his eyes and leads you to a park bench overlooking a wide, grassy field. The leaves are just starting to change and the air has a little bit of a bite to it. 

You sit down on the bench and take a sip of your coffee.

“It is good coffee, I’ll give you that,” you say.

“See,” says Loki, “you can’t go back to that vending machine sludge after this.”

“I mean, if it’s eleven o’clock at night and I’m on a deadline, I can.”

“Darling. You have a TemPad.”

“Loki. Read the personnel manual.”

He wrinkles his nose. “It’s not really my genre.”

You roll your eyes and take out your breakfast sandwich. “What is your genre?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that a serious question?”

“Of course it is,” you say. “I love talking about books.”

He gives you a slight smile and takes a sip of his coffee. “A little bit of everything, honestly,” he says. “Philosophy. Magical theory. History. Politics. Anything from Asgard, really, though it can be a bit more challenging getting some of those titles.”

“I’ve had pretty good luck with the Library of the Sacred Timeline—have you checked there yet?”

He frowns. “I’m not familiar.”

“Oh, you’d like it—it’s on the eighteenth floor. It’s intended to be a collection of the greatest works of literature from as many branches of the timeline as possible,” you say. “It started as a research project, but people liked it and it just kind of evolved into this huge collection. They’ve actually got a pretty sizeable collection of books from Asgard.”

It’s like you’ve told him that his personal paradise had been located on the eighteenth floor this entire time. “Will you show me?”

He is practically vibrating with the sort of anticipatory, manic energy that you typically would associate with Christmas morning right before you tear into presents. It’s sweetly endearing.

“Of course.”

Ten minutes later, you’re leading him through the winding hallways on the eighteenth floor. You’re not surprised he hasn’t heard about the library—it’s a bit out of the way and the eighteenth floor is so poorly designed that it’s not terribly easy to find.

The design of the library is a sharp departure from the rest of the TVA. The shelves and floors are made of the kind of dark mahogany that you typically see in the kind of estates that look like something directly out of a Jane Austen novel. Worn oriental rugs muffle your footsteps on the creaky wood floors and the air smells faintly of dust and paper.

There’s a subtle change in Loki when you walk through the doors—almost like a muscle in his shoulders finally relaxes and he seems truly at home for the first time since he arrived.

You touch his hand. “This way.”

You lead him into the stacks, back to the far corner, right after the books from Alfheim.

“You can borrow whichever ones you like,” you say softly. “There’s a sign out sheet at the front desk.”

He nods, though you don’t think he really hears you—he only has eyes for the shelves, his gaze sweeping across the spines like they’re old friends. You’re about to excuse yourself to give him a little privacy when his brow furrows and he exhales sharply. “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

“What is it?”

They have the entirety of the finest Asgardian literature at their disposal. Untold centuries of the writings of our greatest minds—” he plucks a book off the shelf, “—and they choose to include this?”

The title looks fairly innocuous—a red, leather bound book with the title The Cloistered Heart embossed in gold script on the front. You take the book from him and open it. “What’s the problem with this?”

“It’s inconsequential fluff, literary pablum of the highest order.”

This is the Loki that you’re more familiar with and a smile curls at your lips. Almost on cue, you flip the book open to a chapter titled “The Wedding and Bedding of Aloisa.”

You bite back a laugh and look up at him. “It’s a romance novel.”

“Precisely my point,” he says. “To think that this is on the same shelf as Nielsen and Auber.”

“That’s kind of how libraries work,” you say, flipping further into the book. The phrases “throbbing length” and “eager moans” draw your eye and you have to tamp down another laugh. “Oh, and it’s a sexy romance novel.”

“It appeals to the lowest common denominator, yes.”

“What, so you’re too good for a bodice ripper?”

He scoffs. “I prefer to do the bodice ripping myself, not read some overwrought description of it.”

You are glad you’re looking at the book because you’re pretty sure you’d disintegrate if you had to make eye contact with him while he delivered that line. “Oh spare me,” you say lightly, snapping the book shut and drawing it to your chest. “I’m gonna read this.”

He blows out a puff of air. “It’s a waste of your time.”

“I’ve got lots of time, I can afford to waste it,” you say cheekily. “Besides, I’m curious to see what kind of book turns the god of mischief into a pearl clutching prude.”

Loki sputters. “Prude? Darling, let me assure you, I’m no prude—”

“I’ll leave you to browse,” you say with a grin as you turn away from him. “Come find me at the front when you’re ready to go.”

You’re a few chapters into the book when Loki rejoins you at the front of the library, a small stack of books tucked under his arm.

You close your book with a snap. “This book is a delight. I think your real issue is just that you’re no fun.”

He scoffs. “I’m very fun.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You bicker playfully back and forth as you check out your books and leave the library. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you spent much more time there than you’d planned. You can’t quite bring yourself to worry about that, though, not with the memory of Loki’s wonderstruck expression burning so bright in your mind.

There’s a bit of a lull in the conversation as you wait for the elevator.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“For showing me that.”

“Of course. I’m sorry you didn’t know about it sooner.”

He looks at you, lips parting slightly like he’s about to say something. His tongue swipes briefly over his bottom lip and you would swear that his gaze drops to your mouth for just a second.

For just a second—one heady, slightly irrational second—you think he might be about to kiss you.

The ding of the elevator arriving breaks the spell, startling you just a little. You run a hand through your hair, trying to give off the impression of composure even as your heart beats wildly in your chest.

Loki gestures to the elevator doors. “After you.”

There is a group of analysts in the elevator already, chatting animatedly and completely obliterating any chance you may have had at recapturing that moment.

You try not to dwell too much in contemplating what ifs or timeline branches—often, it feels too much like work, something Mobius might assign you.

But you know that the possibility of that moment—what if the elevator had been a hair slower, what if those analysts had taken a different route, what if you were braver—you know that’s something that’s going to haunt you for a while.

*

You wouldn’t give up that time in the library for anything—it’s one of those moments that feels formative, something that you’ll return to again and again for one reason or another.

But it’s also true that it’s time that you probably could have used for sorting files and as Saturday ticks on, you can’t help but wish you had a way to pull another hour out of somewhere.

“We’re not going to be able to make this deadline, are we?” you say with a sigh.

It’s getting late into the evening and the cart of files still to be sorted still remains depressingly full, despite the fact that you’d brought both lunch and dinner back to your desk so you could continue working.

Loki eyes the remaining files. “I think we might. We made good progress today.”

You rub your eyes. “My brain feels like it’s about to leak out my ears.”

Loki takes the file you are working on and sets it back in the stack of unsorted files. “I think that might be a sign it’s time to turn in,” he says.

“There’s still so much left.”

“There’s still tomorrow.”

You reach for the file. “Well, let me just—”

He pulls your hand away from the pile. “You can come back to it in the morning. Besides, if you’re this tired, you’re not going to do good work anyway.”

He squeezes your hand and drops it. It’s brief enough to still be friendly, but unusual enough to make you wonder and send your mind racing back to that moment by the elevator.

You shake the thought away. It’s late and you’re tired.

You heave a world weary sigh and slump back in your chair. “I hate it when you’re right.”

To his credit, he only smirks a little. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

Once again, there’s no reason for him to do this, but once again, you’re inclined to let him.

You pack up for the evening and walk out of the office side by side. You’re trying very hard not to think about the fact that this is likely the last night that you’ll do this, that tomorrow the assignment will be over.

As you near the residential wing, you start to hear distant shouts. If you inhale deeply, you catch a very faint whiff of explosives—you’re not sure what kind.

“I think someone brought work home,” you say with a sigh. 

This happens from time to time—things get out of hand in the field or something happens when retrieving an asset or a target and all hell breaks loose at the TVA. Mobius had once referred to it as “bringing work home” and the name had stuck.

“Wasn’t there an incident in this wing not long ago?” asks Loki.

“Yes.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I had to call off the next day—I got no sleep that night.” You listen carefully, trying to determine the source of the noise and the status of the problem. “But maybe it’s almost over,” you say with an optimism you don’t fully feel. “Sometimes these things are resolved really quick.”

Your heart continues to sink the closer you come to your home. The acrid burn of explosives only increases and you think you catch the low, dull roar of something not quite human.

And indeed, when you turn the final corner, you are immediately stopped by an electric blue barrier being monitored by a hunter. G-21–you’ve worked with her on a couple of missions before.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” slips out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“There’s an ongoing incident in this area,” says G-21 and you almost want to laugh because no shit. 

“How long do you think it’s gonna be closed off?” you ask.

She shrugs. “We’re at a code 54 right now, but it’s probably gonna escalate.”

With pitch perfect timing and before you can even try to remember what a code 54 means, there’s an almighty crash and a low bellow.

“Go!” she yells before running toward the commotion amid frantic calls for backup.

Loki is grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a run.

Your standard issue work shoes are comfortable enough on a day to day basis, but you certainly want to have words with whoever decided that leather soled shoes with absolutely no grips were a good choice for a building floored almost entirely in linoleum. In a low stakes situation, it’s meant occasionally you wipe out in the cafeteria and hurt nothing but your pride. In this situation, it means that Loki’s firm grip on your hand is the only thing keeping you upright.

But there’s a small mercy in that while you can still hear distant crashes and shrieks, whatever is happening down that hallway doesn’t seem to be following you and eventually, you both slow to a brisk walk and Loki drops your hand.

You haven’t even had a chance to consider where you are going to sleep tonight. You could probably curl up on that terrible couch in the office and just plan on getting up early enough to run back to your place for a quick shower and a change of clothes…assuming the incident resolves by then—

“You can stay with me,” says Loki, as though he can hear you trying to sort this out.

“Oh, that’s okay, I’ll just—”

“If you say you’re going to sleep on that terrible couch in the office, I will personally take you to the most boring governmental proceeding I can find and leave you there until you come to your senses.”

“Sounds like a great place to fall asleep,” you say.

His eyes glint, but his tone brooks no arguments. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

You sigh, but you can’t think of a counterpoint. “When did you get so bossy?”

“Darling, I’m a prince,” he says with a bit of a wry smirk. “It’s my birthright.”

Loki lives on the opposite end of the residential wing and his place looks quite a bit like yours—he’s got an extra window in the kitchen but the floor plan is otherwise the same. A lot of his furniture is standard issue, but there are little details that make it seem more personal: an area rug with a bit of fraying on the edges, a painting of what you think is an Asgardian landscape, a vase filled with dried flowers so delicate they look like they might disintegrate if you were to touch them. And books—so many books. Books on shelves, stacked on the coffee table, tucked into the little rack that you know is meant to hold magazines. Hardbacks, paperbacks, leather bound, dog-eared, well-worn and brand new. It’s no wonder he was so excited about the library.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “I’ll get some things for you.”

You sit down and he disappears down the hall. You idly examine the books stacked on the end table next to you. Many are quite clearly from Asgard and it sparks a pang of sympathy—it’s like his homesickness is on full display in his living room and there’s something sweet and sad about seeing that vulnerability laid so bare.

He returns a few minutes later with a pair of pajamas, a toothbrush, and a hand towel.

“Here,” he says, handing you the pile. “Bathroom’s just down the hall. I’ll make up a bed for you.”

“Thanks.”

In the bathroom, you realize that the pajamas he’s given you aren’t the standard set you can order from the TVA. These are made of a dark emerald silk that ripples over your skin like water, and somehow, that makes it feel a thousand times more personal than if he’d loaned you a standard set. They don’t fit quite right on you, but they’ll work well enough for tonight.

You brush your teeth and attempt to get through as much of your evening routine as you can before collecting your clothes and exiting the bathroom.

When you return to the living room, you expect to find that he’s made up a bed for you on the couch. These living units only have one bedroom—it would be quite reasonable to have you sleep on the couch.

You do not expect to find a pajama clad Loki stretched out reading on the couch, a blanket over his lap and his head propped up on a pillow like he intends to sleep there.

You exhale slowly. “Please tell me you are not giving up your bed.”

“Don’t be absurd, of course I am,” he says without even looking up from his book. “The point of this was to prevent you from sleeping on a couch, not simply put you on a couch in a different location.”

You wish you had something to throw at him. “You don’t even fit on that couch.”

“Luckily, my knees bend. Besides, you’re a guest,” he says, as though that settles it.

You roll your eyes and plunk yourself down in the armchair across from the couch, setting your pile of clothes on the floor. “I’m not moving until you give up the couch.”

He finally looks up from his book. “You’re really going to do this?”

You examine your fingernails, flicking away an invisible speck of dust. “I’m not the one being unreasonable. I’m simply meeting you at your level.”

“If you think that I’m being unreasonable and you’re also saying you’re meeting me at my level, does that not mean you are admitting that you are being unreasonable?”

“It’s nearly one o’clock in the morning. I’m not arguing semantics with you.”

“Fine.” His eyes glimmer as he sets his book down and slowly rises to his feet. “But you’re still not sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, you’re going to be so disappointed when you realize how wrong you are,” you say. You think you see your opening and you try to play it cool.

He’s walking toward you, leaving your path to the couch wide open. In your head, you can see exactly how this works: you’ll spring from your chair and dart around the coffee table before diving onto the couch like a baseball player sliding into home plate, soundly defeating Loki. Easy peasy.

Instead, what happens is that you spring to your feet and Loki moves with inhuman speed, grabbing you around your waist and pinning you to the front of his chest, stopping you in your tracks almost immediately.

“I suppose I should have expected that,” he says. Your back is facing him, but you can almost hear the dry, sardonic look he’s giving you.

“Probably,” you say. “God of mischief and all.” You struggle fruitlessly against his iron grip. “You can let me go now.”

He laughs. “I’m afraid I can’t. It was clearly a mistake to trust you. I won’t be making that error again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, trying again to squirm away from him. “Let me go.”

“The interesting thing about all of this is that you’ve made a rather substantial tactical error,” he says, continuing as though he can’t hear you.

“You’re bluffing,” you say with more confidence than you feel.

“Fascinating theory,” he says, “but I don’t think it’s going to work out for you.”

With that same ridiculous speed, he’s suddenly spinning you around and lifting you, tossing you easily over his shoulder.

“Hey!” you shout in protest.

“I warned you,” he says, his voice full of mirth as he carries you toward the bedroom.

This is not exactly how you’ve imagined being carried off to bed by Loki.

Though, admittedly, you do have a nice view of his ass.

“This is ridiculous,” you say.

“You brought this upon yourself.” He’s walking into the bedroom and a moment later, he’s lifting you from his shoulder and tossing you unceremoniously onto his bed.

You scramble to your feet and try to lunge toward the door, but he’s clearly expecting that. Before your feet even hit the floor, he catches you around the waist and hauls you back to the bed. Your back hits the mattress and you try to leverage the momentum to propel yourself back onto your feet.

He catches you immediately and you find yourself back on the bed again.

“I don’t mean to be patronizing,” he says, failing to bite back a laugh, “but it’s adorable that you think you can outmaneuver me.”

That is deeply offensive and the only way you can earn my forgiveness is by letting me take my rightful place on the couch.” You can’t quite keep the laugh from your voice.

He grins. “Not a chance.”

You attempt to dive off the opposite side of the bed, only to have him grab you by the ankles and pull you back. You manage to dislodge him and lunge in the opposite direction, only to be immediately thwarted.

It becomes increasingly hilarious the longer it goes on and soon your sides are aching from laughter. Loki is laughing too, but it doesn’t seem to affect his strength or speed at all.

Eventually, he wrestles you back down onto the bed and you are fairly certain there’s no way out of this one—he’s got your wrists pinned above your head and his legs locked around yours. You’re both a little out of breath.

“Yield,” he says.

You shake your head. “Never.”

His gaze flicks to your lips and back to your eyes. “Yield.”

“No.”

Something has changed. There’s an electricity and intensity that crackles in the air between you, possibilities blooming in both of your gazes. It feels a little like that moment by the elevator, but you’re afraid to hope, afraid to even wish because the idea of him wanting you still feels as impossible as capturing smoke with a net. 

But the way he’s looking at you, the way his gaze keeps drifting between your eyes and your lips…that’s not nothing.

“Yield.”

You lick your lips, your heart beating wildly. “No.”

Is it just your imagination, or did his breath hitch when you licked your lips?

“Yield.”

God, he’s so close and you want him so badly. 

“No.”

He looks again at your lips and this time, he closes the distance between you.

They call him Silvertongue—you’ve heard the jokes, you’ve rolled your eyes at all of them. But as he kisses you, you realize that there’s an element of truth there because only seconds in and you’re ready to sign away your soul to live under the power of Loki’s tongue. The slow, warm slide of it against yours, the way he guides your mouth against his, the way he lets out a soft sigh as he tastes you—you would give up everything if it meant you could stay like this.

“Yield,” he breathes against your lips.

“No,” you say.

He deepens the kiss, catching your lower lip between his teeth and gently tugging until you whimper and arch against him.

He still has your hands pinned against the bed, his grip unyielding when you try to wrestle them away.

“Let me touch you,” you say when he draws back. You want to touch him everywhere—run your hands along every muscle you’ve admired from afar. 

“Then yield,” he says with a grin, his eyes flashing with devilish intent.

You consider this for a moment. You could give in—there aren’t really any stakes at this point and you’re pretty sure you’re both going to end up sleeping in his bed tonight anyway. But that glint of mischief in his eyes also promises some intriguing possibilities if you stand firm.

“No,” you say.

“Such a pity,” says Loki, though his expression is one of hungry delight.

His hands slip free of your wrists then, but they stay pinned to the bed by some invisible force.

“Cheater,” you say. 

“I think this is only fair,” he says, his hands sliding to your hips. “I’m clearly the victor, am I not entitled to my prize?”

You shiver. “Your prize?”

“Yes.” He kisses down the column of your throat. “My lovely, lovely prize.”

“How can I be your prize if I’m also your competitor?”

“You think too much,” he mumbles against your neck.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Generally, it’s not.” He sits back on his heels between your legs, looking you over with satisfaction. “But in this case, it’s distracting you from more pressing matters.” His hands creep under the hem of your shirt, stroking the small of your back, thumbs tracing teasingly along the waistband of your pajama pants. 

“Have I mentioned how much I enjoy seeing you in my clothes?” he asks. There’s a husky depth to his voice and a hunger in his eyes that sends a flood of arousal to your cunt.

“You have not,” you say.

“A casualty of too much thinking,” he says solemnly, his thumbs gently grazing the skin at your hipbones. “You look utterly delectable. I almost want to leave them on.” His eyes glitter with mischief. “Almost.” His hand strays to the bottom button on your pajama top. “May I?”

You nod. “Yes.”

He slips the button free and slowly makes his way up until your shirt is open. He carefully pushes the fabric aside, baring your breasts to his sight and touch.

You’ve never felt more beautiful seeing Loki stare at you, lips slightly parted, eyes wide and hungry. He trails one hand up your stomach and rib cage and slowly brushes a thumb over your nipple. You gasp and the sensitive skin puckers and stiffens as he palms your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs as he lowers his mouth to your breast, his tongue and lips taking up the role of his hand, while his other hand moves to cup your other breast. You whimper, wishing you could run your hands through his hair. “That’s it,” he purrs, “I want to hear all the sounds you can make, my love.”

You rock your hips forward and arch your back as he lavishes attention on your breasts. It’s the most delicious kind of torture, having him so close, but not being able to touch him.

He’s taking his time, which you both love and hate. He feels so good, but you need him to touch you, you need to touch him, you need him inside of you. You wait until you can’t take it any more and breathe his name like it’s a prayer.

You wonder if this is what he was waiting for because with little more than a brief smirk and a wicked look, he starts kissing his way back up your chest and neck. You whimper when his lips meet yours and you can feel him grin as he kisses you. He fits his hips against yours, angling himself so that his cock rubs up against your clit just right and you moan into his mouth. You can tell that he’s big and part of you wants to savor the anticipation even though you feel like you might go mad if he doesn’t fuck you now. You rock your hips against him, trying to feel that friction.

His large hands frame your face, one hand sliding to cradle the back of your head so he can draw you deeper, the other trailing from your cheek to your throat.

Both hands soon stroke down your sides, lingering teasingly at the waistband of your pajama pants. He hooks his thumbs underneath the waistband and you lift your hips. He slides your pants down maybe an inch and you can feel him smiling as he kisses you. You lift your hips again and your waistband creeps down another inch.

“Loki.” His name falls from your lips with a sigh.

“What is it, my love?”

“Touch me,” you breathe. “Please.”

You lift your hips again and this time, he pulls the fabric fully down and off your legs. He guides your legs apart and stares appreciatively at your bare cunt, his teasing expression replaced by a rapt awe.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. 

You believe him.

His hands stroke your thighs, seemingly in no hurry, despite your pleading whimpers and the way you arch against the mattress. He draws his thumb gently along your slit, barely grazing your clit.

“Do you know what an utter distraction it’s been sitting behind you?” he asks, tracing your clit in the slowest, lightest circle.

You arch upward, hands still bound by his magic. “Tell me,” you breathe, your hips rising to chase his hand.

“Every time you stood up, I could only think about bending you over the desk.”

You manage a sly smirk. “And here I thought you didn’t like me much at all.”

His thumb presses a little more against your clit and you moan.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you,” he says, rolling his thumb in a slow circle. “I kept you at arm’s length partly as a matter of protection.”

For who?”

“You,” he says. “I’m not fully redeemed in some eyes and you being involved with a dangerous variant—”

“You’re not,” you say.

“Some would disagree.”

“Well, they’re wrong,” you say. “You’re not a dangerous variant. You’re Loki Laufeyson and I want you just as you are.”

There’s something unreadable in his expression and it makes you wonder how many people have told him that he can just be himself.

“You should be careful saying such lovely things to me, you know,” he says solemnly.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? And why is that?”

“Because it makes me want to do very wicked things to you.”

You’re surprised you’re not shaking, you want him so badly. “What kinds of wicked things?”

“Oh, all manner of wicked things.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, his tongue swiping briefly against your skin. “Things with my mouth...” His thumb rolls over your clit again, his index finger teasing your entrance before retreating. “…my hands…” He drags his gaze over your naked form before locking eyes with you. “My cock.”

A shiver works its way up your spine. “So if I talk about how I think you’re really clever and funny and I find it unbelievably sexy, what sort of wicked thing would that merit?”

The intensity of his gaze makes you shiver again. He crouches down and presses another kiss against the inside of your knee, slowly moving upward. “If you keep talking like that, I’m not going to let you leave my bed for days.”

“You know that’s not a disincentive, right?” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as he nips at the soft skin of your inner thigh. “I’ve wanted you for such a long time, Loki.”

“I’ll make it weeks if you’re not careful.”

“Again, not a disincentive.” You gently tug at your bound wrists and find that they’re still firmly secured. It’s exhilarating, even though you really wish you could run your hands through his hair, especially if he ends up where you think he’s going.

“What else should I tell you?” you muse as he continues his agonizingly slow path along your thigh. “You know, half the reason I kept to myself was that I wanted you so much I was certain that I’d make a fool of myself.”

That earns you a few circles of your clit with his thumb, but his progress up your thigh remains slow. You have a theory about what might move the needle, though.

“I know you like to act like you’re this sort of barely reformed villain, but I think there’s more good in you than you’d like people to believe.”

This time, he moves up to the crease where your thigh joins your hip, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath ghosting along your labia. His tongue traces a line along your skin and you briefly wonder if you’ll be able to hold it together enough to deliver the last part.

“And,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “yesterday and today made me want you even more because I feel like I finally saw who you really are and you’re even more wond—”

Your words abruptly give way to a breathy moan because his perfect, skilled tongue has finally found its way to your clit.

You had a plan from here, but whatever it was has dissolved into nothing under the skilled caress of Loki’s tongue. You suspected he would be good at this from the way that he’d kissed you earlier, but you could not have imagined that it would feel like this.

“Oh my god, Loki.” Your thighs are already quaking. You tug again at the invisible bonds on your wrists, but they hold fast. Something about the way the bonds are keeping you gently stretched along the bed combined with how his large hands have your thighs spread open seems to heighten every sensation. There’s no wiggling away from him or adjusting yourself so that you feel more or less of the onslaught of his tongue on your cunt. You are completely at his mercy and you’re not entirely surprised that you fucking love it.

He slides a finger into your aching channel and your cunt shudders around the thick intrusion. The warm, roiling center of your orgasm starts builds in your hips with every stroke of his tongue, spinning faster and faster, like ocean winds whipping up into a hurricane. Your back arches and his tongue presses flat against your clit, and suddenly you know that this is going to be what takes you over the edge.

Loki seems to know it too, at least from the way that he presses his tongue more firmly against you, one arm slung across your hips to hold you in place. His other hand slides two fingers inside you, rocking and curling against that aching, tender spot.

You whimper, your hips bucking wildly. It’s so good and so much and you are almost there.

You look down at him then, his hair wild, hollowed cheeks flushed pink as his tongue works you over, his eyes closed like he couldn’t imagine anything more blissful than being in between your legs while you come undone.

This is ultimately what tips you over the edge. The storm that has been forming inside you is finally let loose and you arch your back and cry out in a wordless scream as your climax crashes into you.

Only then do the bonds around your wrists release and your hands fly down to grab his hair as your body shakes with pleasure.

It takes a moment for you to get your breath back and reacquaint yourself with the concept of speech, but when you do, you find Loki looking up at you, his expression pure mischief.

“And to think you wanted to sleep on the couch.”

“It wasn’t that I wanted to sleep on the couch, it’s that—” Your voice cuts off as his tongue starts stroking your clit again.

“It’s what?” he asks in between strokes, his smirk obvious in his voice. The lingering ripples of your orgasm are coalescing around the path of his tongue, tightening that coil in your belly again.

“Fuck—you’re not playing fair, you can’t just—” You lose your sentence to a low moan that rises up from your chest. “You can’t just—fuck, yes—you can’t…oh god, yes, just like that.”

His laughter rumbles against you as your hips start rocking against his mouth. How are you already so close?

“You can’t just—fuck—win an argument by—”

You’re trying to say that he can’t expect to win an argument by making you come and you think he might understand this based on how determined he seems to be to prove you wrong. His fingers curl again until he finds that soft, tender spot that is so often the key to your unraveling.

You have stopped trying to complete that sentence—you moan, your hands tangling in his hair, urging him on as the swell of your climax rushes up, inevitable as a tidal wave looming over a seaside village.

You cry out as it crests and breaks, falling down over you in a rush of tingling pleasure that feels like champagne and fireworks all at once.

“Now, what was it you were saying, my love?” he asks as he releases your clit a moment later. “Something about how I can’t just win an argument by making you come? I couldn’t quite hear you over the sound of you coming completely undone on my tongue.”

“Oh, you think you’re so smart,” you say, giving him a stern look as he crawls up your body.

“You know what I think?” he says, settling himself on his side next to you. “I think you liked submitting to me.”

You shiver before you can even think about hiding it and his smile turns decidedly vulpine. 

“You did, didn’t you? You liked having your hands bound and being completely at my mercy while I licked your pretty cunt until you came undone in my mouth.”

“You are enjoying this far too much,” you say.

“I am enjoying it the correct amount.”

You realize your hands are now free to explore his body and you tug at his pajama shirt. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” you say.

He gives you a wicked grin as he lets you pull his shirt over his head. “Yes, perhaps it’s time we even things up.”

You pull the shirt away and rake your eyes over him greedily, your hands following the path of your gaze. He is as perfect as you imagined, unfairly beautiful in the dim light of the bedroom.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of his pajama pants and lower them an inch, a cheeky parallel of how he teased you earlier. His lips curl into a sharp smile when he realizes what you’re doing.

“Interesting strategy.” There’s a bit of a growl in his voice, a rough desperation that makes your cunt clench. “But I think you forgot that I have the upper hand here.”

He raises his hand and with a twist of his wrist, his remaining clothes dissolve in a shimmer of green and he is bare before you.

Your breath catches in your throat. His cock commands your immediate attention, nudging up against your thigh—he’s big, as you suspected, but completely bare and rock hard, he somehow seems longer and thicker than he had when he was grinding against you.

He pulls you into a slow kiss as you reach for his cock. You wrap your hand around him, delighting in the silky hardness of him, the way he throbs in your hand and the low groan he makes as your hand moves from base to tip and back, the way his hips thrust along with you. Your cunt clenches in anticipation.

After a moment, though, he places his hand over yours, slowing your movements.

“I need to be inside you,” he rasps.

“Yes,” you breathe.

He rolls on top of you  and you’re not sure that you’ve ever felt anything quite as wonderful as the heat of his bare skin and yours pressed together. This feeling means intimacy, a closeness that you’d longed for but never expected even in your wildest daydreams.

He pulls you into a kiss, slow, soft, and languid, like you have all the time in the world and he intends to take it. It’s decadent and dreamy and perfect.

But the heavy weight of his bare cock resting against your stomach combined with the ache between your legs—an ache that would be so perfectly soothed by the hard column of flesh currently throbbing against you—proves to be a force too powerful to resist for very long.

You cant your hips against him, snaking one leg around his waist, hoping he’ll get the hint.

He does.

He braces himself on one hand, the other sliding between your bodies to rub his cock along your slick folds. He positions himself at your entrance, waiting for your breathy plea to begin to ease himself slowly into you.

He fills and stretches you in the most wonderful way, but even more than that, he feels like home. The thought strikes you quite suddenly and you’re not entirely sure about everything it means, but you know it’s good and right.

He pauses for just a moment, seeming to savor the feeling.

“You feel better than I ever imagined,” he says.

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You imagined?”

He gives you a hungry smile as he leans in to kiss you. “Like I said: it has been an utter distraction sitting behind you.”

His rhythm is slow and easy, like he wants to take his time learning every inch of you and memorizing how you react to his touch. His mouth moves over yours in a slow kiss that’s somehow both languid and demanding, his tongue gliding in and out of your mouth in the same rhythm of his hips rocking into you. His cock bumps up against that sweet spot inside of you that his fingers had teased earlier, each stroke inching you closer to bliss.

He shifts the angle of his hips so that his pubic bone grinds against your clit and it feels so good you almost see stars. You can feel your orgasm building, your cunt growing slicker and tensing around his thrusting cock.

He draws back to look at you, eyes hazy with a loose, dreamy kind of pleasure.

“Do you have any idea how good you feel?” he breathes.

You are shaking. “Loki, I’m gonna come.”

“I know you are,” he purrs. “Let go for me, let me feel you, my love.”

With two more thrusts of his hips, you unravel.

He groans as you tremble around him, but mostly, he watches your face, rapt by the way you throw your head back against the bed and gasp his name like it’s the only thing that will save you.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” he breathes. “Absolutely stunning.”

He waits until you catch your breath before he kisses you again, slow and sensual. His hips are still rocking in that beautifully slow rhythm and you don’t know how it can still feel so good.

He keeps moving against you, his touch and his low murmurs of praise invoking a symphony of sensations. He presses deeper and your body sings with every thrust, your muscles tensing and tightening around him like you never want him to leave. Your climax swells again and you come with a whimper, your whole body shaking as he fucks you through it.

You want him to come, want to hear the sounds he makes and feel his sweet, hot release burning inside of you.

“I want you to come for me,” you breathe.

He grins at you. “Oh, I will, but not yet. You’re not done yet.”

You whimper. “Loki—”

“Two more, my love, two more and then I’ll come for you.”

Somehow, you give him three. By the second one, he’s panting and his words have become rough, his voice a growl as he utters some of the filthiest praise you’ve ever heard. The third builds quickly after that and you know instinctively that you’re going to take him over the edge with you this time.

You fight to keep your eyes open against the tidal wave of pleasure blooming again in your hips. You need to see him come undone.

As in everything else he does, he’s unfairly beautiful—he throws his head back, letting out a low groan that you can feel all the way to the tips of your toes. His cheeks are flushed, a few ink dark curls plastered to the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. You can feel him emptying himself inside you, his release hot and hard won.

It seems to last a long time and it’s another minute before his hips slow to a halt. He kisses you, so soft and sweet it would almost seem chaste were it not for the fact that his cock is still throbbing inside of you.

After a moment, he slowly eases out of you, rolling over onto his back, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you to him like he can’t bear to be parted from you even for a moment.

You curl up against his side, your legs tangling with his. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours before resting your clasped hands on his heart.

You could fall in love like this, you think sleepily to yourself.

You don’t know it then, but you’re right.

*

Time moves differently at the TVA, but a couple years later, there’s a ring in a box on your desk.

Loki likes a spectacle and you’d daydreamed about a traditional wedding, but when you talk it over, you both agree that you want to do something different, something quiet, something just for the two of you.

“I do think we should tell Mobius beforehand,” you say to Loki.

“Isn’t the point of eloping that no one knows until after it’s done?” says Loki.

“Yes, but I feel like we could make one exception,” you say. “If we’d done a full wedding, I would have asked him to give me away.”

Loki’s gaze softens a bit then and he pulls you close. “All right. But we only tell him right before we leave. The man can’t keep a secret.”

But Mobius doesn’t seem terribly surprised when you tell him—in fact, he seems far more concerned about your wedding gift.

“I didn’t have a chance to wrap it yet,” he says. He’s retrieved a large picture frame that had been propped against his desk, though he keeps it turned away from you. “So…this also requires a bit of an overdue confession for context.”

You raise your eyebrows. “A confession?”

“A confession,” says Mobius.

“Will I be angry about this?” asks Loki at the same time you say, “Is this like a go to jail confession or a misdemeanor confession?”

Mobius gives a good natured chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “God, the two of you. Always so dramatic. No wonder you ended up together.” He takes what feels like an unnecessarily long drink from the coffee mug on his desk. “It’s not bad, I promise.” Another sip of coffee. 

Loki sighs. “He always does this,” he says to you. “Have you noticed? Whenever he has something that you want to know, he stalls and drags it out just to torment you.”

“Okay,” you say, “but you jumping in to bicker with him probably doesn’t help.”

“I’m not bickering,” says Loki. “I’m simply pointing out that he’s stalling—”

“What was it you were saying, Mobius?” you say brightly, nudging Loki with your elbow.

Mobius’ eyes twinkle. “See,” he says to Loki, “I always liked her. It’s a good match.”

You don’t have to look at Loki to know he’s rolling his eyes, though he also makes a point of surreptitiously pinching your ass, a detail you hope Mobius doesn’t notice.

“Anyway,” says Mobius, taking a deep breath, “it was pretty clear to me from the start that you liked each other. And you also seemed absolutely determined to get in your own way.” He points to Loki. “Especially you with your whole stilted Asgardian prince thing.”

Loki frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Mobius sighs. “Anytime you like someone, it’s like your brain gets a factory reset and you get all overly polite and courtly.”

Loki scoffs. “I don’t do that at all.”

“You do. It’s deeply weird. You’re like a mannerly robot.”

Loki turns to you. “Darling, tell him he’s being absurd.”

You reach over and squeeze his hand. “You did call me ‘my lady’ a couple of times in the early days.”

Loki sighs and looks back at Mobius. “What was your point in mentioning this?”

“Well,” says Mobius, “you seemed pretty determined to get in your own way, so nothing was happening. And eventually I got sick of all of the pining, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

“What do you mean?”

Mobius pauses, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “There wasn’t a breakthrough with Berlitz that weekend. What there was was a surplus in the overtime budget and a high priority indexing project for Archives.”

Your lips part as your brain slowly puts the pieces together. Mobius’ eyes twinkle.

“Wait,” you say, “you lied to us?”

“I did not lie,” says Mobius, his demeanor suddenly becoming very serious. “That would have been wrong.” He nods at Loki. “Also, it would’ve tipped him off and that would have ruined the whole thing. I simply failed to mention that the cart of files that I gave you needed to be sorted for indexing for the Archives department and I peppered in a couple of unrelated things about Berlitz.”

“But the office was empty that weekend,” says Loki.

Mobius snaps his fingers. “Right. I did make some adjustments to the schedule that weekend.”

“And the disturbance that prevented her from returning home on Saturday night?”

Mobius spreads his hands wide and grins. “All me, buddy. Paid G-21 five hundred bucks for that one.”

Loki pauses for a moment and then looks at you. “I don’t think I can be mad about this. I’m genuinely impressed.”

“I mean, I can’t argue with the results, but Jesus, Mobius, you could’ve just set us up on a blind date,” you say.

“Ah, but that’s not as fun,” Mobius says. “Plus, it wouldn’t have made for as good a wedding gift.” He turns the frame around and hands it to you both.

It’s both your timecards from that pay period, neatly framed side by side. Your eyes well with tears and Mobius smiles.

“Honestly, I’m just relieved it’s not a jet ski,” says Loki.

“He's deflecting,” you say to Mobius in an exaggerated whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back.

But you can’t help but notice that Loki’s eyes are brighter than normal.

“Okay, now get out of here,” says Mobius. “You’ve got a wedding to get to.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re wearing a simple white dress and standing with Loki in front of a time door, your hand clasped in his.

“Technically, we don’t have a supervisor’s approval for this,” you say with a wry smile.

He looks at you, eyes dancing with mirth. “I had Mobius sign off on the paperwork while you were getting ready.”

Your heart swells and your smile is so wide that you feel like your face might split in two. “Then hurry up and marry me, Laufeyson.”

He grins and tugs you through the time door.

-------

But wait! There's more: I don't have a masterlist for this, but if you enjoy these idiots, check out Daylight, a sort of sequel.

[poison-into-positivity]

one of the most egregious things about wwdits’ legacy is how people who have seen the show have reduced Laszlo to “guy with a funny voice who has a lot of sex” and ignore everything else.

“i like Laszlo because of the way he says new york citayyy~” okay well i like Laszlo because he is so deeply in love with his wife that when the people in his homeland didn’t approve of her he left forever and swore to never go back. I like Laszlo because he tricked his wife into going to England without him in order to raise a child that isn’t his, because he knew that the child needed him and that his wife deserved to chase her own dreams without being burdened by him.

“I like Laszlo because he’s regular human bartender Jackie Daytona” I like Laszlo because when he runs away from home he chases his deep-seated desire to find his own humanity again and pours his heart and soul into saving a high school girls volleyball team. I like Laszlo because he participates in modern traditions he doesn’t understand out of love for his human best friend.

“i like Laszlo because of ‘may I approach the bitch’ lol” i like Laszlo because when Guillermo confided in him and asked for his help, he agreed and kept his secret hidden even though it could’ve had dire consequences for him. I like Laszlo because he spends hours and hours working on a temporary sunlight cure just to go to the beach and dance in the sun.

“I like Laszlo because he fucks and sucks hahaha” I like Laszlo because he’s the glue that holds that house together. we are not the same

[roosterr]

hi! i was wondering if i could request your thoughts/drabble on how the 141 would react if a mission went awful and you were left in the hospital with amnesia! like the reader wakes up and has no memory of her team🥲

if you aren’t taking requests atm or this doesn’t fit with your writing, i completely understand and you can ignore this! just wanted to say i binged your masterlist and absolutely love all your writings! keep up the amazing content <3

the 141 when you have amnesia

note: AAA TYSM FOR REQUESTING THIS!!!! and ty for reading my stuff, it means a lot!! i had so much fun writing this it's unbelievable, this concept is just so JUICY,,, i really hope you like it!! <3

wc: 2.8k

warnings: established relationship, angst sadness and depression wow i did not mean for this to get so sad

ao3

[part two]

price

✹ he would undoubtedly blame himself for what happened to you. as your captain, it was his job to keep you safe and make sure you came home in one piece, and he'd failed you there.

✹ weeks and weeks go by as he waits endlessly for you to wake up, and with every day that ends with you still unconscious, he feels his resolve slipping just a little bit more.

✹ he holds himself together as well as he can, keeping his head high and projecting confidence that you'd be okay, if only to keep the team's spirit up. they still needed their captain, and he'd be damned if he failed them too.

✹ behind closed doors, however, he's a mess.

✹ john drinks, a lot, so much that it’s irresponsible, but the image of you, beaten and bloody and barely breathing haunts him every time he closes his eyes. he locks himself in his office, away from the others and ignores their concerned calls through the door.

✹ he visits you, only when it's late and there's no one else around to hear him whisper apologies to you with a lump in his throat. he confesses to you like a sinner, all the things he wishes he'd done differently, how he'd put himself in your place in a heartbeat if it meant you'd be okay.

✹ other than those nights, he does his best to stay away from the infirmary. it’s selfish, but he can’t bear to see you in such a fragile state.

✹ he’s in his office when you wake up.

✹ the nurse finds him on his second drink of the night, and no sooner than the news leaves her mouth he's pushing past her and rushing to the infirmary. he bursts through the door, startling you and the other nurse with you.

✹ "hey, sweetheart." he’s by your side in an instant, taking one of your hands in both of his as he gazes lovingly into your eyes. it feels like it's been an age since you've looked at him, the sight of your eyes alone almost has the dam behind his own breaking.

✹ you’re staring back at him with a somewhat lost expression, but john’s so relieved that you’re here, that you're back, it slips his notice.

✹ he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead, like he's done hundreds of times before, but you stop him by placing your other hand on his chest. he pulls back with a concerned frown, finally noticing the unsure look you're wearing.

✹ the nurse briefly explains that some memory loss is common for the amount of head trauma you sustained. he should've expected something like this, in fact it's a miracle you made it out with just memory loss.

✹ "i'm sorry, can you tell me who you are?" you ask meekly, looking back at him with an apologetic look in your eye. you look guilty, like it's your fault this happened and not because of his own shortcomings.

✹ john's heart sinks at your words, but he's careful not to show it. amnesia can be temporary, he knows that, he just has to jog your memory.

✹ "i'm john," he smiles as warmly as he can through the panic in his chest, lifting his left hand to show you the wedding band on his finger, "your husband."

✹ your jaw falls open, your eyes wide as you look between the ring, his face, and the nurse behind him, who simply nods in confirmation of the captain's words.

✹ "you're…" you mutter, disbelief taking over your voice, "my husband?"

✹ you take his left hand in yours, bringing it closer to your face and examining the wedding band, a tiny smile pulling at one corner of your lips.

✹ "yes, love," his chest rumbles with a chuckle, grasping your left hand and showing you the matching band on your own finger, "we're married."

✹ "seriously?" you ask, comparing the rings on your fingers and looking back up to him with an almost comically surprised face. john nods again, his moustache tilted with an amused smile.

✹ "been together for nearly seven years."

✹ "how the hell did i convince you to marry me?" you mutter. at that, he lets out a real laugh, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

✹ "think i should be the one askin' that question."

gaz

✹ kyle takes it harder than anyone.

✹ he visited you once, at the first opportunity when you were stable enough to not require constant observation, but the sight ruins him. you looked so weak, nothing like how you should; your cheeks were sunken and your skin has a sickly sheen to it, and there was nothing he could do to help you.

✹ he couldn't stand it.

✹ he becomes so easily irritated, a hair trigger just waiting to snap. the others want to help him, but he won't let them get close enough to try. any mention of your name has him shutting down, leaving faster than they can finish their sentence.

✹ he barely sleeps, spending most nights curled up in your bed with his tears soaking your pillow. he surrounds himself with your clothes, things that smell like you, but your scent eventually fades and he just feels so alone without you.

✹ price finds him like that one night, sitting on the floor with his back leaning against your bed after throwing up from crying so hard. he hauls kyle up by the collar of his shirt, and forces him to meet his stern eyes through the tears.

✹ "pull yourself together, garrick! they need you to be strong for them, how d'you think they're gonna feel when they wake up and see you like this?"

✹ after that it's like the spell is broken, and he realises just how pathetic he's been acting. in the weeks you've been out, he's only visited you – his partner – once. you'd never forgive him if you knew.

✹ from that night onwards, he visits you at least once a day, filling multiple vases around your bed with beautiful flowers and making sure they never wilt.

✹ he got 'get well soon' cards for you too, having each of your teammates, and even kate, sign one to decorate your room.

✹ you wake up surrounded by life and colour, physical evidence of how much he loves you that puts a smile on your exhausted face, even if you don't know who left them.

✹ he's off base when you wake up, picking up a fresh bouquet for your room. his phone rings as he's leaving the florists, and as soon as he hears the nurse's voice he's sprinting back to his car, throwing the flowers onto the passenger seat and racing back to base.

✹ he bursts through the infirmary doors to see you standing with the help of the nurse, your legs wobbly but your face determined. he almost breaks down in the doorway.

✹ when you look up and meet his eyes, he feels his heart stutter in his chest. he rushes towards you, the new bouquet slipping from his fingers, and almost knocks you off your feet with the how hard he embraces you.

✹ you let out a small 'oomph' as he squeezes you, hesitantly wrapping your own arms around his torso. he sniffles into your shoulder, a few tears wetting your shirt despite his attempts to hold them back.

✹ "hey, uhm…" your voice reaches his ears, hoarse with disuse, "are you okay? what's your name?"

✹ "what?" kyle lifts his head, pulling back to mirror your confused gaze. "babe, what're you on about?"

✹ the nurse pulls him aside, leaving you sitting on the edge of your bed as she explains your amnesia to him.

✹ you really didn't remember him. his heart withers in his chest, the pain of losing you all over again spreading to the ends of every limb.

✹ "no, no no no–" he mumbles, stumbling back over to where you sit and cupping your worried face so gently, like you'd break if he was too rough. "please, love, you have to remember"

✹ you cover his hands with your own, a few tears falling from your eyes and rolling hot against kyle's palms. "i'm sorry, i want to remember, but…"

✹ "please, i love you…"

soap

✹ johnny spends every free moment at your bedside.

✹ he talks to you, tells you stories about everything that's happened since you've been asleep; the time ghost burnt dinner and set the fire alarms off, a robin that landed on the windowsill of your shared room, anything that comes to mind.

✹ sometimes he plays your favourite songs, sitting on the end of your bed softly humming along, praying that you'll hear it and come back to him.

✹ most often though, he draws you. he fills page after page of his sketchbook with sketches of you; the peaceful look on your face as you lay next to him, memories from before the accident, the two of you together – though he always puts infinitely more detail into you than himself.

✹ similarly to the captain, johnny stays positive about your condition, refusing to even entertain the idea of you not waking up. he's optimistic, and so good at hiding the anguish of being without you that even ghost is fooled by his facade.

✹ he won't let the others worry about him. you're the one in the hospital, you're the one that deserves their sympathies, he has to stay positive for everyone so they don't worry, so you have something familiar to come back to when you wake up–

✹ in reality, he's living in denial. he's on the verge of a steep mental nosedive, and if he looks past his delusions for even a second, he's afraid he'll spiral into a pit he won't be able to claw his way back out of.

✹ so he continues to live like that. he has one-sided conversations with you, going on for hours as if you're talking back to him. he brings you your favourite meal when the mess hall makes it, putting it on your bedside table so you can reach it and clearing it up the next day when he comes back.

✹ when you eventually, finally wake up, he's already there with you.

✹ it was late, and against the nurse's wishes he'd climbed into your hospital bed with you, an arm around your shoulder holding you close his chest while his other hand doodles away in his sketchbook.

✹ you let out a small sound and shift against him, and his heart skips a beat under your ear at the realiseation that you're back.

✹ any lingering tiredness immediately disappears from his mind, as he throws his sketchbook carelessly onto the side table and wastes no time in gathering you up into his arms and bringing you into a crushing hug.

✹ a groggy, surprised noise leaves you, the sound of your voice lighting up johnny's face with a smile so wide it aches. he loosens his hold just enough to hold the side of your head with one hand, gazing into your eyes like you were the only person in the world.

✹ "there y'are, bonnie, i missed you so much,"

✹ he presses his lips to the top of your head, his eyes glassing and his heart full with how relieved he is that you're awake.

✹ "...what's going on?" you mutter, your eyes darting all over his face and to the room around you with a confused furrow in your brow.

✹ "lemme call the nurse," he replies with an easy, comforting smile, reaching somewhere behind him for the call button.

✹ while you wait for the nurse, he helps you sit up, adjusting the pillows behind your back so you can sit comfortably, all the while rambling about everything and nothing all at once.

✹ "you should've seen gaz's face, darl, it was priceless–"

✹ "i'm sorry, i… i dont remember you…"

✹ nothing has ever shut him up quite as effectively as those words.

✹ "wh… what? stop messin' about, bonnie," he chuckles, desperately searching your eyes for the humour that was missing. when you only shake your head in response, the smile fades from his face and quickly morphs into concern.

✹ "sergeant mactavish, how many times do i have to tell you to get off the bed!" the nurse exclaims as she enters the room. he doesn't get down though, just fixes her with the most intense look he's ever worn.

✹ "why don't they remember me?"

✹ the nurse explains that an injury like yours was bound to cause some lasting damage, but amnesia was more often than not temporary.

✹ "i'm sorry, i wish i could remember you…" you mutter, dropping your gaze to your lap as he turns back to you.

✹ johnny exhales deeply, finding a great sense of comfort that you'll most likely get your memory back. he gently tilts your chin up again so he can stare deep into your eyes.

✹ "don't apologise, that just means i get to woo you all over again, bonnie."

ghost

✹ simon would be destroyed.

✹ while you're knocked out its like he forgets how to be human. he eats, sleeps, and breathes on autopilot – like a robot with a function, no feeling, just keeping himself alive until you wake up.

✹ it worries the others, price especially, but the walls around his heart are expertly crafted, and without you by his side he sees no purpose in lowering them.

✹ when you do wake up, the first thing you see is him, sitting at your bedside with his hand enclosed around yours. his eyes are closed, but he's still very much awake, in fact he finds himself unable to rest anywhere but in the chair by your side.

✹ the way you try to pull your hand from his brings him back to the present and alerts him to your consciousness. his eyes snap open in less than a second, already glassy with the pure relief he feels now you're back.

✹ but you're looking at him differently. where there would once be soft affection, now he can only see confusion, and worst of all, panic.

✹ and there's fear in how your shoulders bunch up, but simon tries his best to ignore that thought.

✹ "hey, you're alright, darlin'," he coos, as gentle as he can manage, pushing the rising dread to the back of his mind.

✹ he presses the button to call the nurse, letting go of your trembling hand bringing it up to your shoulder. your worried gaze flicks to his arm and back to his face, which makes him pause in his tracks.

✹ "who… who are you?"

✹ simon's waited so long to hear your voice again, but hearing those four words from you shatters his heart into pieces.

✹ no.

✹ you didn't forget him. there was no way.

✹ "it's…" he swallows hard, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears threatening to fall. "it's me, love, it's simon."

✹ you're still looking at him with that same anxious expression, and he curses himself when he realises he's still wearing his balaclava. he practically rips it from his head, dropping it to the floor without a care for where it fell.

✹ your eyes study his bare face, tracing over every crease and scar, the mess of hair on top of his head, and finally landing on his desperate eyes.

✹ "i'm sorry, i…" you look guilty, the subtle shake of your head hurting simon like a knife to the chest. "...do i know you?"

✹ the silence that follows your words is unbearable.

✹ you really did forget him.

✹ all the time you'd spent together, the memories you shared, the love you had; it was all gone, just like that.

✹ suddenly he felt like the walls were closing in on him, he couldn't get enough air and his skin was crawling with the need to escape.

✹ at that moment, the nurse comes through the doors, startling simon into standing from the chair and stumbling backwards. he never takes his eyes off of your guilt-ridden face. you didn't know him, not anymore, and that meant he was all alone again, with no one to care for him and call home.

✹ the emptiness in his chest was enough to make him want to rip the hair from his scalp.

✹ the nurse says something, stealing your attention from him with words he's too overwhelmed to listen to. he takes the opportunity to back away, disappearing through the doors with a hand covering his mouth, fighting the urge to throw up.

✹ it was a miracle to two of you got together in the first place – simon didn't know if he could get you to love him again.

[sunny44]

Pole position and broken wrist

Pairing: Max Verstappen x GF!reader

Warnings: broken wrist, medical center, medications etc…

Summary: Where Y/n broke her wrist on qualifying day.

It was one of those days when everything seemed to be in the right place. I woke up with Y/n by my side, her hair spread out on the pillow and a serene smile on her face. The sun was shining outside, and I felt a positive energy in the air. Today was qualifying day, and confidence was high. The car was fast, and the team's work had been impeccable throughout the weekend.

Y/n and I had a special ritual on race Saturdays. After breakfast in the motorhome, we would go to the paddock together. She was known for her vibrant personality and, of course, for her ability to get into unusual situations. I still remember when she spilled a tray of drinks on the team boss during her first visit to the paddock. But those moments, no matter how chaotic, only made me love her more.

We arrived at the paddock, and Y/n quickly started interacting with the mechanics and engineers, drawing smiles and laughter. It was impossible not to be infected by her light and carefree spirit. While she mingled, I focused on the qualifying session ahead. I knew she would be there supporting me, as always.

The qualifying session started, and the car was perfect. I managed to top the timesheet right in Q1, and that pace continued until the end. When I crossed the finish line in Q3, with pole position secured, my heart raced with excitement. I knew Y/n would be waiting for me in the garage, ready to congratulate me with that smile that made all the problems in the world seem insignificant.

But when I returned to the garage, something was off. I didn't see Y/n anywhere. Usually, she would be jumping with joy, ready to give me a celebratory kiss. Instead, I was greeted by worried looks from the team members. Before I could ask what was going on, one of the mechanics, Dave, approached me, a concerned expression on his face.

"Max, there’s been an accident... with Y/n," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

My heart froze. "What happened?" I asked, trying to stay calm.

"She was walking through the paddock, and you know how she is... Always bumping into things. Apparently, she tripped and fell. She tried to grab onto a metal structure but ended up slipping and falling hard. She broke her wrist."

For a moment, I couldn't breathe. The image of Y/n, hurt, flooded my mind, and a sense of panic started to grow inside me. "Where is she now?" I asked, already moving towards the garage exit.

"They took her to the medical center here at the circuit. She was in a lot of pain, but they said she's going to be okay. They just need to immobilize her wrist and maybe take her for more detailed exams."

Without wasting any more time, I ran towards the medical center. Everything around me seemed like a blur. The people, the sounds, even the noise of the engines... It all disappeared. The only thing that mattered was getting to Y/n.

When I entered the clinic, I found her sitting on a bed, with an expression of pain mixed with frustration. Her arm was already in a temporary splint, and the doctor was beside her, explaining what they would need to do next.

"Max!" Y/n exclaimed when she saw me, her eyes shining with a mix of surprise and relief.

"Y/n, what happened?" I asked, approaching her, feeling a wave of relief seeing her conscious and talking, even though she was visibly uncomfortable.

She gave an embarrassed smile, something she always did when she was in trouble. "I’m a complete klutz, Max... I tripped over one of those damn toolboxes and, trying to balance myself, ended up falling. And, well... you know the rest."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair and sitting next to her.

"Is it hurting a lot?"

"Yes, it hurts like hell."

"Do you have any idea how much you scared me?" I asked, taking her free hand and intertwining our fingers.

"I'm so sorry... It wasn’t my intention to ruin your pole day," she replied, with a pained little laugh.

"The only thing that matters to me right now is that you're okay," I said, kissing her forehead gently. "And, look, we’re still going to celebrate this pole. We’ll just do it at your pace, okay?"

She smiled again, this time more confidently, and nodded. "Sounds like a good plan."

The doctors entered and started discussing the next steps, mentioning the need to take her to a hospital outside the circuit for a more detailed X-ray and possibly to cast her wrist. The idea of her having to spend the rest of the race weekend with a cast worried me, but the relief of knowing it was "just" a broken wrist calmed me down.

After a few hours, we left the hospital with her wrist properly casted. I insisted we return to the motorhome and spend the rest of the day there, away from any potential dangers in the paddock. She hesitated a bit but eventually agreed.

We settled on the sofa in the motorhome, with Y/n lying next to me, her arm carefully propped up on a pillow. The TV was on, showing a replay of the qualifying session, but I hardly paid attention. My focus was on her, making sure she was comfortable and cared for.

"Max, you don’t have to stay here with me the whole time," she said softly, looking at me with a shy smile. "You should enjoy the rest of the day with the team, celebrate the pole."

"I'm exactly where I need to be," I replied, running my fingers through her hair. "Besides, who’s going to take care of you if I'm not around? What if you trip over the carpet now?"

She laughed, though she winced in pain right after. "I really am fucking clumsy, huh?"

"You are, but you’re my clumsy, and I love you for it," I murmured, leaning in to kiss her.

...

The next day, I woke up to the soft sound of Y/n's breathing beside me. Her arm, now casted and propped up on pillows, was a constant reminder of how clumsy she could be. But seeing her there, sleeping peacefully, I knew that even with a broken wrist, she would still make her day and mine unforgettable.

When Y/n finally woke up, the lazy smile she gave me warmed me inside.

"Good morning, champ." she murmured, trying to stretch without moving her arm too much.

"Good morning, clumsy." I replied, giving her a kiss on the forehead. "Ready for another day of adventures?"

"More than ready," she said, with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Is it hurting a lot?"

"It’s starting to hurt more now, I think the painkillers are wearing off."

"Well, you stay there while I get dressed and grab your meds." I said, getting up.

"I can get them." She tried to get up but I stopped her.

"No, no. You stay there, safe and sound, I’ll get the meds." She agreed and lay down.

After I went to the bathroom and got dressed, I got her meds and handed them to her. She got up afterward, went to the bathroom, and I helped her get dressed since moving her arm was straining her wrist and hurting.

"Ready?" I asked, putting a Red Bull bucket hat on her head and giving her a peck, making her smile.

"More than ready." She said, and we left the motorhome together. "You know, I was thinking… since I’m going to have this cast on for a while, I’ll make it more interesting."

"Interesting how?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Autographs!" she exclaimed, as if it were the most brilliant idea in the world. "I’ll ask some of the guys to sign it for me. It’ll be a nice memory of this whole thing."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You really are full of ideas, aren’t you?"

"You knew who you were getting involved with when you asked me out," she replied, winking at me and holding my hand.

Y/n was visibly excited, and even with her arm in a cast, she radiated a joy that was contagious.

Lando was her first target. As soon as she saw him, she ran over to him, carefully balancing the cast on her arm.

"Lando! You have to be the first to sign!" Lando, always the jokester, gave a mischievous smile and took the Sharpie Y/n was holding with her free hand.

"So, do you want me to write 'Caution: very clumsy' or something like that?" He asked, as he signed the cast, and Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t hold back her laughter.

"Just sign it, Norris. And make it look nice."

"Alright, bossy." He handed the pen back to her, and after chatting a bit and wishing her well, we went after the next victim.

Charles was talking to some members of his team, but Y/n wasn’t intimidated.

"Charles! I need your autograph, please." she said, waving the cast in his direction, and he smiled warmly, taking the pen.

"I saw pictures of you online with a cast but didn’t know what had happened. Are you okay?"

"I’m better, yeah. I tripped over a toolbox... Long story," she replied, laughing at herself.

"Well, I hope you get better soon," he said, carefully signing the cast with his name and adding a small heart next to it. "And try to stay away from toolboxes for a while."

Carlos was next, and Y/n knew he wouldn’t miss the chance to tease her. When she approached him, he raised an eyebrow and gave her a knowing look.

"Max, you really have to keep an eye on her," Carlos said, laughing. "She’s a danger to herself."

"Tell me about it," I replied, smiling as Carlos signed the cast.

"Y/n, are you collecting accidents now?"

"Let's just say I'm adding a little drama to the weekend," she replied, extending her arm.

"There you go," he said after adding 55 to the end of his signature. "I hope you get better soon."

"Thank you Chili." He gave her a side hug and started walking towards the Ferrari garage.

"Try not to break anything else," he yelled and went inside.

Alex was walking past us when Y/n spotted him. "Alex! Please sign here," she said, and he promptly complied.

He made a neat signature, adding a small trophy to the side. "I hope this brings you luck to recover quickly," he said.

"Thank you, and bring Lily to the next race." He nodded and left.

Oscar was the last one before we returned to the Red Bull garage. He was focused, but when he saw Y/n approaching with that smile that said “you have no choice”, he smiled too.

“Oscar, you’re next on the list,” she said, shaking her cast.

“Honored to be a part of this collection,” he joked as he signed it, drawing a little kangaroo next to his name.

Finally, we made it back to the Red Bull garage, where Y/n handed me the pen.

“Now it’s your turn.” She said smiling.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” I said, taking the pen and thinking about what to write.

I decided on something simple but meaningful. I signed my name, and next to it I wrote, “I love you, my clumsy.”

She looked at the cast and then back at me, her eyes shining with emotion.

“It’s perfect, it’s definitely my favorite signature,” she said, smiling.

The day went on, and soon it was time for the race. Y/n was by my side until the last second before I got in the car. Even with her injured arm, she was there, smiling, supporting me, and reminding me of what really matters. mattered.

When I finally got into the car and got ready for the race, I knew that no matter what happened on the track, I had something very special waiting for me at the end of it all. The race was important, sure, but Y/n… she was the reason I gave my best, on and off the track.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

“Before the accident X after the accident”

Ps: I’m okay guys, just a broken wrist

[sweetbans29]

Little Ones - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: When talk becomes reality - baby edition (based on THIS request)

Warnings: Caitlin with kids is a warning - fight me, the photo is form when she was a Hawkeye, fic is when she is with the Fever

Word Count: 1.9k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Okay but CC with kids is such a mood - she is just as cute (if not cuter) than the kids!

"Will you marry me?" Caitlin says while she is down on one knee, The two of you took (at least what you thought was) a spontaneous trip to the eastern coast in the middle of the night to go watch the sunrise. Now here you are, sun on the horizon, standing in complete shock in front of the love of your life, her down on one knee asking you to marry her.

"Yes." You say as Caitlin, with shakey hands, takes the ring out of the box and places it on your finger. Her touch is so gentle as her hands continue to shake with now-settled nerves and pure excitement. Once the ring is on your finger she jumps up, wrapping her in your arms and spinning you around. As she does, you let out the most beautiful laugh she has ever heard and yell 'We're getting married' at the top of your lungs not caring that the world is still asleep. Caitlin didn't think she could, but she fell more in love with you at that moment.

As the two of you drive back, you can't stop looking down at the ring that your now fiance has gotten you. It's so much bigger than any ring you ever imagined would live on your hand.

"It is so big," you say, eyes still in awe and heart still swollen from the events of the morning.

"You deserve even more," Caitlin says as she places a hand on your thigh, giving it a little squeeze.

You go silent as you continue looking at the stone. The two of you are still in college and if you are honest, it sort of scares you to think about you walking around with something so valuable.

Caitlin senses your shift.

"Hey," she says in the softest tone. "We can get you something smaller if that would make you more comfortable."

She knows you all too well. You were never the one to wear a lot of jewelry and the times that you had put something nice on, it was always something simple and dainty.

But you also know her well. This ring is a declaration of her love for everyone to see. She is proud that everyone knows you are hers and wants the world to see. You would never take that away from her.

"No, no. I absolutely love it. I was thinking just maybe something temporary while we finish school. Like one of those rubber ones that athletes wear - just so no one jumps me and cuts off my hand for this in that parking lot or something." The second you say it, the two of you burst out laughing.

"You would think about someone cutting off your hand," Caitlin says, continuing to laugh.

"Hey! There are some crazy people out there and this is worth a pretty penny," you say, eyes still glued to the ring.

You hear Caitlin mumble something along the lines of 'try 50 pretty pennies'. Your head whips around to her and she just gives you a shy look.

The two of you decide that you will get a silicone ring to wear while you finish out college and then switch back to the ring Caitlin got you, with the exception of date nights and family events.

When you get back to your college town, you guys stop to get some food. You ask her all the questions about when she started planning when she got the ring, and everything. She told you everything you wanted to know down to asking your dad for his blessing over one of your school breaks. You sit there amazed, taking in every word, not believing she is the one you get to spend the rest of your life with.

*6 months later*

Caitlin is at practice with her team one winter afternoon when the conversation presents itself yet again. Cait is now in her first season of the WNBA and has fit into the Indiana Fever perfectly. Everyone loves her and they have slowly been getting to know you.

"Did you see that Jess and Nick are expecting?" NaLyssa says as they are in a circle stretching. "They just announced they are going to be having a baby boy."

Everyone in the circle is sending NaLyssa dagger looks knowing the can of worms she just opened is one that Caitlin won't stop talking about.

"Awww, that is so cute!" Caitlin says with unmatched excitement. "You know, I can't wait to have a little one - just imagine them running around in little Fever gear and coming to all the games. It would be the cutest thing," Caitlin says and then proceeds to go on about how much she wants kids and can't want to have little mini-Caitlins running around.

"What if they come out as little versions of your lady?" Erika says. "They would also be pretty cute running around here."

"Don't get me started on if they are little versions of her," Caitlin says with pure excitement. "I would never be able to say not to them!"

When they are done stretching, they head into a cardio practice. Every break, Caitlin brings up something kid-related - how cute they would be, how she would teach them any sport they want, how she would want to make them proud that she is their mom. It gets to the point where the team walks away when Caitlin begins talking on the subject. Everyone with the exception of Erika, who has taken Cait in both on the court and off. She toughs it out and listens to Caitlin ramble about someday having kids. She is also the only one on the team that knows Caitlin and you are engaged. So she feels it is only fitting she let your girl ramble on about how someday family.

*18 months later*

Caitlin's 3rd year in the WNBA and she is still on fire. She was named both Rookie of the Year her first year as well as MVP - only the second to do that in the history of WNBA history.

The team is pretty much the same, with the exception of a few trades and added rookies. Erika and Lexie are still closer than ever to Caitlin on the court.

The conversation of kids comes up again when Lexie mentions her little one has started teething.

"Isn't it the worst?" Caitlin says. "You just hate seeing them in pain and you can't really do anything about it."

"I know! I just want to cuddle him but he is super fussy and is running warm." Lexie says. "It is heartbreaking."

"Right?" Caitlin says, which earns some looks from some of the other girls on the team.

Practice ends and everyone goes home for the day. A few days pass and Lexi brings up her son again.

"This whole teething thing has been terrible for our sleep schedule. Miles is up every hour and will not stay down," Lexie says while looking exhausted.

"Have you tried freezing fruit and putting it in any of the fresh food feeders for him? It might help with keeping his gums soothed." Caitlin says.

"I will have to try that!" Lexie says and thanks Caitlin for the tip. Nobody outwardly questions why Caitlin knows that but there are a few that give her quizzical looks when she offers pretty spot-on advice about a teething baby.

Once again, they end the practice and head their separate ways.

The following day is game day. The team all arrive in their own game-day attire. Caitlin walks in and goes to her locker. As she is going through her stuff she looks everywhere for her shoes.

Erika walks over. "Everything good CC?" She asks as Cait is looking through everything she has.

"No, I am somehow missing my shoes," she says as she scans through everything again.

Just as Caitlin is about to call you, Erika passes her her shoes. Caitlin mumbles a thank you and finishes getting ready.

The team heads out to warm up. The crowd is going crazy as it is one of the final games of the season. The team is warming up and Caitlin feels like there is something off. She finishes warm-ups and realizes she isn't wearing her headband to keep her fly-aways out of her face. She curses and then hears a familiar voice.

"Caitlin!" You try to get her attention, a little girl attached to your hip.

"MAMA!" Your little girl screams at the top of her lungs.

Caitlin can't help but smile as she makes eye contact with her little one. The smile on your child whenever she sees her mama is unmatched. Once you are close enough, you set your baby down and she goes running (waddling) over to Caitlin.

"Hi, little one!" Caitlin says as she picks up her child and attacks her with kisses.

You make your way to them and hand Caitlin her headband. "You forgot this," you say.

"Thanks, babe," She says as she gives you a little kiss.

Caitlin sets your little one down and she just looks up pointing at Caitlin's team. Caitlin lowers to her level and points at them with her.

"You know who they are," Caitlin says to her little one. Her little one claps with a smile. You come up behind her and scoop her up, knowing Caitlin needs to get back to her team. You give a little wave to Cait and your little one waves at her mama.

"Bye Mama!" she says continuing to wave her little arm from side to side.

Caitlin is still on a little cloud nine after seeing her little one before the game and that they brought her the one thing she needed that she completely forgot that her whole team was huddled right next to her.

"Mama?" Aliyah asks with a shocked expression.

"YOU HAVE A KID???" Erika comes barreling over in disbelief. "SINCE WHEN???"

"Well by the looks of her little one, looks like she is about a year and a half," Lexie says with a smile on her face. "Is that why you know so much about teething babies?"

"Ya, she has been on and off teething for a while now," Caitlin says with a little blush tinting her cheeks.

The team is all hooting and hollering as their coach calls them over to huddle before tip-off.

Caitlin wears a smile for the entirety of the huddle. It's not like Caitlin and you were trying to keep it a secret, it was mostly to keep her out of the eye of the media. But she was happy that the news was out to her team. It just means there are 14 other women who can speak into her daughter's life and love her.

As the team takes their place on the floor, Caitlin looks up to where you normally sit in the stands. It is the first time she sees you and little one in the crowd together.

When you notice Caitlin looking up at the two of you, you look down at your baby and point to her Mama. The little one begins to wave at Caitlin with a big smile. Caitlin smiles and blows her a kiss.

Caitlin begins to lock in to the game and wipes her shoes. She gives one final glance over to you and thinks, 'Ya, I can get used to this'.

AN: A little different but I really like how this turned out! I hope you do as well. And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 03

Kinktober Masterlist in absentia lucis - "in the absence of light" John Price x f!reader Kinks > rape, torture, sensory deprivation Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

You are a new recruit to the CIA, and Kate Laswell sends you to some remote blacksite for your interrogation training. Your temporary commander, Captain John Price, gives you a safeword, but as your training begins, you realize that you feel everything except for safe. 

Hey, did you see where the tags said RAPE? Okay, just making sure.

It was three flights and a cab. It was airport food and cold coffee. It was forgetting whether the date ended in a three or a four. It was paperwork and passports and finally a cold office. It was a long trip, and you were running on empty. 

“What are your expectations, here, Katie? I don’t wanna do another Warsaw situ–” The man complained.

“This is nothing like Warsaw. She can handle it. Trust me.” Your boss replied, her voice crackling over the video call.

The man who complained squared his jaw and fixed his eyes on you again, looking at you fresh now that your handler, Kate Laswell, had vouched for you. You tried not to fidget in your seat. You didn’t sit up any straighter. You weren’t here to advertise yourself as the bravest or the toughest of anything. You knew you still needed a lot of training, and if he wanted to draw his own conclusions about you, then that was his business, not yours. 

“Her scores are high. She beat your exam?” 

“She did. Her field test and her ‘chute certifications were performed at a DF site here in the states.”

There was a long pause before Laswell spoke again,

“Do me this favor and maybe I’ll even let you borrow her for a recon mission or two. I know none of your boys are pretty enough to pass for party girls, but mine is.”

“That she is,” you heard his tone darken, thickening in his mouth like sticky sap from a tree, borderline inappropriate. When he saw your reaction to his comment, he turned back to the screen and said, “Alright, Katie. You got a deal. I’ll send her back once she’s out of recovery.”

“Thanks, John. Don’t go easy on her, or she’ll make you pay for it.”

“Is that so?” His wry smile sent a jolt somewhere in your belly that you didn’t appreciate.

She laughed and hung up the call. You waited, trying not to let the jitters or the exhaustion win out, battling both but feeling pulled in either direction just the same. 

“So,” he turned his attention to you at last, “Did you lay in your fuckin’ pink princess bed when you were a little girl and dream about becoming a bloody spy, or is this some sort of complex I should know about?”

You shrugged, 

“A man does what he must…”

“Careful, girl. Quoting Kennedy can’t be good for your health if you’re working in Katie’s office, hm?”

“You don’t need to know why I’m here, sir.” You used his title like a knife, flashing it right in front of his eyes and watching them ignite with his smoldering, quiet fury.

“No, but I bet I’ll find out during our time together,” he promised, making your heart clench with stress and anxiety, “What’s your safeword?”

“Red.”

“Red,” he repeated it to you as if he wanted to see how it felt in his mouth. Then, after a long pause, he explained, “I will also stop before the point of emergent damage. But, I will push you past the point of pain. You will sustain injuries. Do you understand what I’m saying to you, love?”

He seemed to be under the misconception that this was your first rodeo. You knew what you had come here for, and it wasn’t some drill sergeant to yell you into shape. You had already been through Delta Force’s operator training center - the parts they allowed CIA operatives through, anyway - and you’d surpassed what Williamsburg had to offer. You were aiming to serve as a Special Skills operative, the blackest of the black ops groups, and although you lacked the physical strength to be of any use in most field positions, you had one key factor that your fellow recruits didn’t have.

Men never expected a woman to be a threat. 

Laswell had plans for you. She’d tracked down two high value targets, but they were well-guarded. However, there were usually strippers and dancers and prostitutes as far as the eye could see, always partying and coming and going at all hours of the night. You were her way in. But, it was your job to get back out. If you could survive, you’d be a hero. If you didn’t, well, she had more pawns on the board. Not to mention, you had a mission of your own to complete..

So, you worked harder than anyone. You jumped at every field training exercise, you took martial arts classes in every different format you could find, and you lived at the shooting range. You didn’t have a social life. Usually, if you were alone in a room with a man, your fists were connecting with each other’s faces. 

You looked back across the wooden desk in front of you, over his nameplate - Captain Price - and into his startlingly blue eyes,

“I understand.”

He came out of his chair like a fucking demon, lunging for you without warning. As you stumbled backward, wielding your own chair over your shoulder, you sighed inwardly. You’d at least expected a more civilized initiation, maybe even a moment for a coffee, before he started in on his training. But, alas, that was not to be. 

You crashed the wooden chair against his head, neck, and shoulder as he rounded the desk, keeping hold of the broken armrest as a weapon. You stabbed downward, aiming for his throat and not holding back. He blocked you, cracking your wrist against the rigid wood. You stepped into his space, kicking his heel out from under him and following him to the floor. His head hit the concrete with a bang, and you used that moment to pin the armrest against his throat, bearing down on him with all your weight, dislodging his trachea enough to cut his air supply. 

He flung you off of him like a ragdoll, and your back slammed into the leg of the desk. You twisted underneath it, staying just out of his reach, small enough to fit through the gap. He scrambled up on all fours, cackling at you with a gravelly, menacing laugh before leaping up and over the desk to pull you out by your ankles. 

You kicked up and over, making contact with his nose, and when he dropped your other foot, you launched your heel into his balls, making sure to aim as deeply as you could. 

He coughed, and it was your turn to laugh. 

Your victory was short-lived. He launched his body at you, shoving your back down on the desk. You felt the familiar bite of his nameplate digging into your skull, so you dragged it out and swung it at him, cutting him across his cheek. He hissed, yanking it out of your hand and tossing it to the ground. 

The captain forced himself between your legs, pressing his body down on yours, and wrapped his hand across your throat. You fought like hell to get him off, twisting his pinky until you thought it might break, but he caught your wrists in his other hand, holding them at a terrible angle, choking you until you saw rainbow spots discolor your vision. 

“Well,” he said, breathless and bleeding, “Christmas came early, dinn’it?”

Just making sure you read the tag that said this fic has RAPE IN IT. I'm just checking in again. Just want you to know. Okay, thanks.

When you woke up, you weren’t completely sure of it, at first. It was as if you were still asleep. You opened your eyes, but all you saw was an endless blackness. You couldn’t hear anything, you couldn’t smell anything, and you couldn’t move your jaw. But you could feel everything. 

Your whole body screamed in pain. One of your hands was wrenched above your head, and the weight of your body hung from your broken wrist, making you cry out in whatever muffled way you could.

Then, something was removed from your ears, and you could hear again. It was still quiet, but the sound of the aircon and the noise of another person’s breath were like blaring sirens compared to the silence you had been steeped in. 

“Look who’s awake,” John’s purr of a voice washed over you. 

You tried to reply, tried to beg for him to cut you down, but you couldn’t speak. Your mouth was holding something round and pliant. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” he patted your flank, and you were suddenly aware of your nakedness. He’d taken your clothes? You could hear him scooting a metal chair across the room towards you, and his pants rustled as he sat down, “Can’t have you talkin’ your way out of this one. Based on the three stitches in my cheek, I was wrong to underestimate you, darlin’. Shoulda listened to Katie, this time. But, look at you. Just a whisper of a thing.”

His rolling chuckle made your bones itch. 

“Hard to use a safeword when you’ve got a gag on, yeah?”

You nodded, acknowledging the irony. 

Price moved in the chair again. No, he stood. You could hear his boots sliding around you in a half-circle. He kept talking to you, his tone as casual as ever,

“Yeah, thought so. But, this isn’t one of those trainings, pretty girl. You won’t be needing one. I will stop when you’re ready to stop, not when you want to stop. You need to learn that, sometimes, your body…” His hand snaked its way around your thigh and you tried to kick out at him, discovering your ankles were tied together and anchored to the floor, “... is capable of so much more than you give it credit for.”

Your heart began to slam against your chest, and your breathing became labored. You were having a panic attack. If you could only see…

“Hey,” his tone shifted, becoming the instructor again, “Breathe slowly. In. Hold it. Out. All the way. In. Out. Tha’s it. Good.” 

There was a long pause. You could smell him now. It was cigars and fire and gunpowder and smoke. It filled your senses, replacing your sight with scent. 

“I’m gonna put your ears back on, and we’ll see what you can do.” 

The world fell away again, and all you had was the smell of him. Then, he started his training. 

It wasn’t the pain that upset you, not really. Pain was something you could move past. It was the surprise. You never knew when it was coming, nor where he was going to hit you next. Sometimes it was his fist. Sometimes it was a belt. Sometimes it was an electric shock. Legs, ribs, foot, arm, neck, belly… there was no pattern. 

You also had no idea of the passage of time. You were infinite and you existed in the darkness of infinity. It was just pain forever with no reprieve. 

Until it wasn’t.

The first time you felt his fingers pinching the tender peaks of your breasts, your whole body jolted. You hadn’t really responded to the pain in the same way, but to pleasure? It was unexpected in a different way. You didn’t think he would violate you. That wasn’t even something they’d tried to do when you were with the DF. 

You bucked, hoping that your displeasure was noted for the record. 

But, perhaps, your mind teased you, the lady doth protest too much? You had wanted him to touch you when he’d picked you up from the airport. When he shook your hand, hadn’t you measured his fingers and started wanting? Weren’t you eager for training to be over so you could be invited back to his flat for the after-work romp you knew would be on offer?

Hanging there like a slab of meat had changed things a bit, but it had not quelled your desire, unfortunately.

You wondered if he had reacted. You imagined him laughing at you. Was he enjoying himself? Or was this all apart of his brand of training? 

I bet you choke out all the pretty girls… you sneered inwardly. 

More pain. This time, your ass cheeks were the targets. The snapping bite of what felt like a belt hit you repeatedly and without mercy. You found yourself breathless from silently screaming, your tongue pressing against the gag for some sort of relief and finding none. 

Then, pleasure again. His thick fingers fondled your pussy from behind, digging into your flesh and discovering the wetness hidden inside of your unused hole. There was no romance to his movements, but forcing an orgasm from you did seem to be his goal. And fuck, you lamented, he was good at it. 

He doubled up, twisting two fingers deep inside of you, pounding them into your body all the way to the knuckle, fast and hard, dragging you towards the edge. Your legs began to tremble, and you knew your face must’ve looked a mess, because you were in total shock. 

It felt like he was going to vibrate you right out of your skin, and still he moved faster. He wrapped his other hand around your belly, holding you in place, and you thrashed against it, fighting the mounting urge to come. 

You were doing pretty well, you thought, given the conditions. Until…

His soft lips pressed themselves down onto your spine. It was just a chaste kiss, but it unfurled you like a ripcord. You exploded, your whole body convulsing in bliss, and although you were wearing a blindfold, you could see white streaks and stars dancing across your vision. You came alive. 

Price pulled out of you, and you felt the stream of slick drip down your legs. He’d forced you to squirt, something you thought was completely faked, only for pornos. But, there it was, proof of its reality smearing down your thighs and onto the concrete floor. 

Pain, again. 

The searing sting of a taser in the sensitive flesh of your belly. 

Fists and harsh palms. 

The bite of a chain. 

A sharp ache from a needle or a knife. 

His fist closing around your index finger and snapping it cleanly in two. 

You wanted to puke, but there was nothing to come up. Your belly bulged and hollowed, letting you gag and choke around nothing, going through the motions and yet giving you nothing to move. 

Then, pleasure. 

His hands were back on your pussy, finding your clit and teasing you until you jerked forward. But, his hand remained, insisting. And insisting. And insisting. 

You lost track of how many times you’d toppled over the edge of your orgasm. There were no borders, not anymore. Your pleasure was bleeding and smearing all around you in one great wave, blinding you to the starts and stops from coming and not. You were drowning in it. 

Just when you thought you might pass out, you felt the prod of his prick between your legs, entering you from behind. You couldn’t feel a condom. You tried to twist yourself away, rocking your hips to no avail. 

This was definitely not protocol.

Those lips returned to the same spot on your spine, and you melted onto him, covering him like hot wax, sealing your body onto his cock like a brass signet, letting him leave his mark on you. 

His hands found your breasts, squeezing them roughly, holding your body to him in a vicious embrace. 

Then, he dug around inside of your mouth and yanked out the gag. You felt yourself make a terrible noise, but you couldn’t hear the sound that came out. You knew he could, though, because when he heard you, his cock throbbed at your entrance, and it made him push forward, dipping into you even deeper. 

Wait… Captain Price. Please. Wait. Wait. 

You wondered if you were as loud as you tried to be. In fact, you wondered if he could hear you at all because he did not stop. If anything, he went onward with even more fervor. 

His mouth kissed its way across your back, and you could feel his stubble and the coarse hairs of his beard raking their way along your skin. His warm tongue leaving little wet stamps as it laved across you, tasting your sweat. 

The way his fat prick was stretching you out made you question if he was using himself or the armrest of the chair that you had tried to kill him with. You hissed from the ache, but he didn’t halt his advance. Didn’t retreat. He just pressed further inside of you. 

How much cock did this jerk have?

Finally, you felt his hairy base tickle the skin under your ass cheeks, and you knew there was an end to his incredible length. 

What… why are you doing this? Why…

He pulled himself out in the same way he had pressed in, slowly and with a fierce persistence. 

Then, he began to pound himself into you.

You were at the perfect height for him, and it made you sick to your stomach to know that it was deliberate. This had been his plan all along. And although most of you felt completely indignant, there was a nasty little demon in your heart that celebrated in it. He’d wanted you from the start, even after you’d made him bleed, maybe even because of it. 

And that thought brought you no small amount of joy. 

His hands had returned to your breasts, playing with them too roughly. John was pinching your nipples and craning his neck around to suckle from them, nipping at them with his teeth until you screamed from the pain of being bitten. Even then, your screams were a poor deterrent. It didn’t stop him from returning to them, crushing the stiff tips as he worked his cock inside of you, fucking himself up into you at a punishing pace. 

He only pulled away to stick his tongue inside of your armpit, licking you over and over in a place where no one had ever even thought to lick, and you wished you could say, honestly, that it had disgusted you. But, it didn’t. If anything, it made you gasp with a new brand of pleasure. He had awakened something fresh and bright in you that you never meant to discover. 

Then, he got brave. He shoved two fingers right into your slack mouth, and you immediately bit down, hard. You could taste blood, and you fought against his flesh, trying to crack the bone. But, he shoved them down your throat, and all you had to chew on was a fat fist that wouldn’t even allow your jaw to close much less to bite. 

You could feel his fingers in your throat, deep down in a place where fingers were never supposed to go, and all you could do was swallow around them, trying your best to keep from drooling into your airway. 

His cheek pressed into your shoulder blade. He was enjoying you. 

The way his gentle kiss or the softness of his cheek ripped orgasms from you was concerning, to say the least. You hoped you could remember this moment, of how the way he rested himself against you as he was taking you against your vocal will was throwing your body down a deep well of dark, forbidden pleasure. How your vision burned white and gold and formed spots of colors that had no names as he fucked you into a different plane of existence. How you thought, if you got a late night text, written in his smoky, raspy Scouse accent, you would crawl your way back across the pond just so he could give it to you again. 

Oh, my God… You screamed from the pit of your belly. 

His thrusts never slowed. He was like a machine. All those muscles were being put to work, and you were the mission. 

Had it been hours?

Days?

Did the world still exist outside of this concrete cube that you suspected you were in?

Would you starve to death in here?

The demon that apparently lived in your cunt rolled its eyes and said, who cares? I wanna come again and again and again…

And you did. You were so overstimulated that you thought even someone looking at you the right way would make you come. It had become painful, at one point, and now you were not numb… Numb wasn’t the right word. You were soft. Your mind and your pussy were just murky, oily, cock-filled vessels, happy they were full and unwilling to question what it meant. 

When he finally pulled out of you, you were limp. You didn’t thrash or fight. You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. 

You felt his fingers again, drawing out your foaming, frothy come into his hand. He used it to smear it along the rim of your asshole. Then, he began to fuck your tight hole with his fingers, one. Over and over. One. One. One. Then, he added a second. Two. Two. A thousand times, two. Three was a bit of a challenge, but he pushed through. Three. Two. Three. Two. Three. Three. Three. And then, none. 

None. 

None. 

Where did he go?

Pain. A heavy hand slapping across your bruised tits. Again. Again. 

You were screaming, surely. You wanted to be, at least. 

The flat of his palm beat itself against your breast over and over without mercy. 

Then, his cockhead rested at the entrance of your asshole. 

You didn’t beg this time. If anything, he should be the one begging, you thought. If you lived, you were going to make him remember you. 

Price shoved himself inside of you with some force, but you took it. You waited until he was fully sheathed inside, and when he took a breath, when those lips rested themselves on the back of your neck, you beared down on him, hard. 

You felt his breath catch as it skittered across your skin. 

The demon in you chuckled in triumph. 

C’mon, Captain. Is that all you got? You made the words come out of your throat, and you hoped he could hear you. 

The way that his hand fisted itself in your hair told you that he had. 

If you thought he had fucked your pussy like an animal, you had been mistaken. He took your ass like he owned it. Like it was his toy. There was no pleasure-seeking rhythm, no careful pacing or grinding movements. He was fucking you because he wanted to come. So, you made him. 

Every time he dragged himself out, you let him go, but every time he pressed himself in, you fought him the whole way. Squeezing and pushing, squeezing and pushing, making your tight hole even tighter, rocking your hips to drive him mad with want. 

You felt him lose control, his hot spend filling your ass and bursting out of his swollen head, soaking your hole. You pulsed around him, and you felt that soft cheek return to your shoulder. 

Come for me, baby. Good boy. You giggled out loud. 

He slapped you across the mouth, and you laughed harder, feeling his cock slip out of you, spent. 

You can’t hurt me in a way that matters, John Price. Do your fuckin’ worst.

You felt him step around you, smelling his breath as he held you face to face. Then, the noise of the room came back and you could hear him panting, ragged and desperate. You felt the blindfold fall away and you could see him, your eyes shrinking in the dim light of the cell, hurt by even the smallest glow of light. 

You were back, but you were not yourself. Not anymore. You were a different you. Someone he had made. He had crafted you with his own hands. 

“Why? Why didn’t you beg me to stop?”

His eyes were burning into yours as he stared down at you, questioning what he had done, what you had done with him. You had used him like a sharpener, honing yourself to a high shine, and he didn’t understand. 

When you heard your voice for the first time, you mourned it a bit, but you knew it would come back eventually. It was raspy, muddled, and barely audible, but you said it with your whole chest,

“I was made for this, and I could go all fuckin’ day.”

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long did he keep you prisoner?”

Kate Laswell, you fucking bitch. 

He’d read your file. The real one. Not the one on your tagline, but the one that you and Laswell had hidden away. 

“Five months,” you told him, a sick smile on your face, “But, you already knew that.”  

He sighed, his hands on his hips, just as naked as you, which you found a little funny. 

“Why’d you come here? Why would she…” 

You watched him wrestle with the betrayal in his head, knowing he’d been manipulated. He’d walked right into her trap. You basked in his confusion, having almost as much fun as you’d had while he was railing you into oblivion. 

“Laswell said you needed a way into the Ikon, some strip club on the border between Russia and Urzikstan. So, I said I would help.”

“And she knew I’d say no…”

“Unless you knew I could handle it.”

It was his turn to be in pain. You could see the fire of it creeping through his belly, knowing he’d just tortured a girl who’d written the book in torture. The surgeries and the psych consults were long, long behind you, but your run in with the Russian mob was not something you were ever going to forget. But, now, John Price was going to give you a chance at revenge. You were his gun, and you just needed him to point you in the right direction. 

Suddenly, he cut you down, freeing you from your hanging place. You crumpled into his arms, letting him hold you as you collapsed. You used your hands to pet the worry out of his eyes, and he fought you for it, trying to stop you from comforting him. So, you grabbed him with what little strength you could muster, and you pulled his face to yours, pressing your mouths together, making him taste your blood from where he had cut your cheek against your teeth. He yanked his head back, furrowing his brow,

“No, stop…”

“Shut up,” you said, kissing him again and feeling his surrender as he held you tighter, pulling you into his chest even though he was ridden with guilt. 

“We shouldn’t, love. I’m so sor–”

“Where’d you put that gag?” You pretended to look around for it, earning a slight smile and an exasperated huff.

You knew you’d made the cut, because when he fucked you this time, he didn’t hold back.

Whelp. Kinktober!

[lexabitxh]

D.W | Feelings

summary: dean winchester confesses his feelings towards y/n.

perspective: third person

word count: 1811

Dean had fallen madly in love with Y/n ever since he laid eyes on her. She was beautiful, not like the girls in the magazines. She was beautiful for the way she thought, for the way she spoke, and her ability to help those around her.

No, she wasn’t just beautiful as something temporary as her looks, but beautiful deep down in her soul.

She was his reason for why he kept pushing in life. She made his darkest days cheerful and full of light. She had changed his life completely.

The way she looked at him with that smile made him feel butterflies in his stomach. It was an odd sensation, but comforting in ways that couldn’t allow him to sleep at night.

However, he wasn’t one to express his feelings. It wasn’t easy to admit he loved her, but he knew those feelings he felt were true. He wanted to tell her, but the fear of rejection held him back.

So, Dean keep things mutual between the both for as long as he could, but each day it became harder to not wonder what it would be like to date her. Especially when there would times where he’d flirt with her and she’d flirt back. Did she mean it or was she just playing along?

Sometimes he’d envy Sam for how close the two were. She’d always go to Sam rather than him for help or for anything in general. He tried not to hate Sam for it, but he just wished to be in his place. To be the one he she’d run to for comfort.

He wishes he could be the one that kept her awake at nights and in despair, to be her cry, to be the one who she woke up excited for. But that fear always held him back from confessing his feelings.

It wasn’t until he finally had enough.

~

Sam and Y/n had been on the couch watching movies for hours with half a bucket of popcorn between them, and the other half all over them. “Sam! Stop throwing the popcorn!” She laughed, trying to sound upset but couldn’t.

“C’mon, this is more fun than actually eating it” he said, throwing a handful at her. Before she could say anything, Dean had came back from his trip. She looked towards his direction, sending him a smile only to not receive one back.

“Hey, Dean. Is everything okay?” She questioned, looking up at him as Sam had turned the volume down. “Yeah… just been thinking a lot while I was out” he said as he looked between the two.

Sam immediately got the hint and got up. “I’ll go make us some more popcorn.”

Y/n watched as Sam grabbed the container and awkwardly walked away, leaving the two alone. Once he was gone, she patted the empty spot, inviting him to take a seat besides her.

“What’s in your mind?” She asked.

Dean walked from behind the couch and around, sitting next to her. Being so close to her made him nervous- he couldn’t function. He kept quiet for a bit, trying to find the words he had been rehearsing over and over and over again, but it’s as if the words he’s been memorizing had slipped away.

“I just wanted to, um, talk to you about something” he swallowed nervously. He was starting to become flustered. The palm of his hands becoming sweaty and his heart pounding out off his chest. Being around her made him act like a fool.

Suddenly, Y/n felt a nervous. She had no idea if she has done something to upset him. Having a one-on-one conversation always made her uneasy and uncomfortable. She felt like she was in trouble.

“What is it?” She asked concerned. Dean took in a deep breath, trying so hard to just put his feelings out there. Y/n took notice of his struggle and took ahold of his hand. “Dean, you can tell me anything. What’s going on?”

Dean glance down at her hand resting above his. Her hand much smaller as it felt soft and warm. He felt a tingly sensation form inside his chest as she made it much more difficult to act upon.

“It’s about you.”

“What about me?”

Y/n had a million different thoughts running through her mind. He probably noticed the scratch I left on baby… or the tiny stain in the backseat. She became anxious.

“Is it about, baby? Cause I swear it wasn’t me! It’s Sam’s fault!” she blurted out, throwing Sam under the bus rather than taking the blame.

“What? No!” He said, only to wonder what trouble they might have caused. “What about baby?” He questioned, but she simply shook her head. “Nothing. Forget about it. What were you going to tell me?” She asked, hoping that he’d forget all about the impala and move on.

Dean shook the thought away before refocusing on the main reason why he wanted to speak to her. “Right” he mumbled.

“Do you remember how we met?” He said smiling softly. Y/n smiled at the memory. “You were running from the police and I helped hid you from them” she laughed a little.

“We sorta became partners in crime ever since” she smiled. That smile. It was that smile that made Dean weak to his knees. “Like Bonnie & Clyde. Except we hunt monsters” he said with a light chuckle.

“Exactly” she laughed, “You were an absolute mess that day, and yet somehow, you convinced me to help you” she said. “And two years later, here I am with you idiots” she teased.

“I happens to be adorable. I’ll try not to take offense to it” he laughed softly before he getting all serious again. “Meeting you has been one of the best things that has happened to us” he said.

Y/n smiled as she felt the same away about them. They’ve gave her a purpose in life and adventures she never imagined before. “Awe, someone’s getting soft” she teased.

Dean shook his head, “just let me finish” he said. He took ahold of her hand this time and looked deeply into her eyes. “You changed my life, Y/n. You changed me. And for the past two years, I’ve been in love with you” he said, finally being able to put his feelings out into the air.

He felt relieved being able to admit his feelings. A weight lifted off his shoulders as he didn’t have to hide them anymore.

Y/n froze to the sudden news. She never would have imagined Dean Winchester to be in love with a girl like her. She loved Dean. She always has. But Dean slept with multiple girls and so she never envision herself having a real relationship with him.

“Y/n… say something.” Dean grew anxious with every second gone by. “I- for two years?” Y/n was still taken aback by the fact he loved her for two freaking years.

“It was the first time I saw you that I discovered what love at first sight was” he confessed. “You made me feel things I never felt before, things I never imagined feeling” he added.

“And seeing you with Sam made me jealous cause I want to be the one to hold you, to make you smile, to make you laugh…” he continued. “But I understand if you like Sam. I just wanted to let you know how I felt because I can’t carry this feeling inside me any longer.”

Y/n stared up at him in complete awe. The way he had let his guard down to confess his love for her. How his cheeks grew red with embarrassment. The way he became all shy and timid. She has never seen Dean act so… so in love.

“S-Sam? You think I have a thing for, Sam?!” She laughed. “D-do you not?” She shook her head, “no dumbass, I don’t like Sam in that particular way” she paused, “I like you.” She placed her hand on his cheek.

As she caressed it, he simply melted into her touch. “I’ve always liked you, Dean. The moment you stumbled into my life with trouble, I knew that the universe had written you for me.” Her words caused his heart to race, a smile forming on his lips.

“You’re the one who keeps me up at night. The one who makes me smile and giggle like crazy. You drive me crazy, Dean Winchester” she told him.

“I just- I never wanted to tell you because I knew you weren’t one to settle down with anyone. So, I kept my feelings hidden. Though it didn’t took long for Sam to notice and tease me about it.” She sighed.

“Sam knew?!” Dean said baffled at the thought why his brother never told him. Could have saved him all the trouble. Y/n nodded, “I sorta made him promise not to tell a living soul” she said giggled.

“So does this means what I think it means?” He asked. “Well, are you going to take me out on an official date?” She questioned as she gently pushed some of his hair back.

Dean smiled like an idiot. “You could ask me to swim across the ocean and I’ll do it just for you” he said while gently cupping her face.

“If a date makes you happy, then a date it is” he slowly leaned closer to her face. “I’d give you the world and more” he said as his lips hover above hers.

“Dean Winchester being so sweet? Who would’ve thought I’d be the reason” Y/n teased as she placed her lips on his, smiling in-between the shared kiss. Dean smiled back, kissing her softly and slowly. He had dreams of this moment and finally it was happening. It was magical and anything he never imagined before.

As they pulled away, they both stared at each other like complete idiot. “Finally!” said Sam as he entered the room. “About damn time. I was getting tired hearing you both yap about each other” he said as he took a seat on the singular couch.

“Now if you excuse me, I got a movie to finish” he said while throwing some popcorn towards them before taking a handful into his mouth. “Bitch” said Dean as he placed his arm around Y/n’s shoulders.

“Jerk.” Sam replied with a mouthful while turning the volume up and resuming to watch the movie.

Dean simple smiled to himself as he had everything he’s ever wanted in life. He had his brother by his side and the girl of his dreams wrapped around him. He couldn’t be happier than in that moment.

[aothotties]

Opinions?

Okay y'all, I'm writing this Eren fic where Y/N is a young mom and he has a huge crush on her, like he's absolutely head over heels for her and her baby. Here's a little sneak peek, please let me know if if seems good so far

________

You and Eren met at Jean’s birthday party and he swears that’s when he fell in love.  He repeatedly asked Jean to introduce you to him, to which he said no each time. 

“Why not?!? You’re married so what does it matter anyway?” He complains and crosses his arms angrily. 

Jean scoffs and Mikasa walks up to him with a smile on her face. 

“She’s a single mom, Eren. She’s already been through enough heartbreak and she’s not looking for something temporary.” She explains and his face softens. 

He looks past Jean and watches as you talk to Sasha, he can't help but smile at the cute face you make when you laugh. 

“So what? Maybe I’m ready for something long term. Come on Jean do this one thing for me.” Jean looks over at Eren with a raised eyebrow. 

“Eren Yeager, are you begging?” He smirks as he teases the blushing man next to him. 

“Jean you’re so mean sometimes. Eren, if we introduce you to her you’ve got to promise to be gentle with her. And don’t waste her time if you’re not feeling it anymore.” She tells him while poking his chest. 

Eren nervously swallows his drink and just nods in response. 

“I love her so much” Jean mumbles under his breath as he watches the two of them make their way to you. 

“Y/N, this is ‘the’ Eren we’ve told you about.” Mikasa steps to the side as you shake hands with the tall brunette. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Eren. I've heard a lot about you.” You smile up at him and he feels his heart speed up immediately after.

[leonw4nter]

maybe like a lil drabble (or whatever you’d like to do) where instead of hunnigan working with leon, it’s the reader. and they be all flirty and cute and kinda like 👉👈

tbh it can work for anything post-re2r, even if its still before re4r. you can do how he acts around you in different eras (if you want to at all, or just choose an era)

sooo whatever you have most inspo with! thank youu

RE4R!Leon x FOSAgent!F!Reader drabble

After Ashley and Luis had gone to sleep in the small ramshackle shed Leon had managed to locate for the night, he sat by the entrance of their temporary shelter and turned on his comms, waiting for his radio to pick up a stable wavelength to relay information back to HQ. The dingy little thing still wouldn’t pick up a frequency, which the blond didn’t wonder about since he’s been thrown around one too many times, the walkie-talkie probably also got a small beating along with the impact his body took. After giving a small pat to the black box in his hands, he finally managed to hear the static of his handler’s voice.

“Condor One to Roost, baby Eagle is currently taking shelter in this… dilapidated hut,” he sternly reports. “Along with Sera. Luis Sera.”

A moment of silence fills the air, accompanying the gentle pitter patter of the rain on the thickening mud before you respond to his reports.

“Hmm… aerial imaging tells me you’re near a lake, am I right? Can hear the rain from here,” you say.

“Yeah. We’re not too far from a lake,” he responds. “Guess we got eyes in the sky too, huh.”

He hears a faint little breath coming from you, probably a soft scoff. He smiles to himself, the first time in a long time before he brings his wrist near to his face.

“What time is it back home?” he asks.

“1300.”

“You should probably get some rest, baby. Don’t worry about me, I’m making sure we all get out of here in one piece.”

“I want to but I can’t bring myself to,” he hears you softly respond. “I can’t risk losing you, you know. I gotta keep guard on comms 24/7 even though I know you’re great at your job.”

Leon’s heart squeezes a little bit; he knows how important rest is to someone, which is ironic considering how he hasn’t had proper rest in over 96 hours and is desperately craving a good, lengthy sleep though he doesn’t mind if it means keeping Ashley and the flirty Spaniard safe and sound. He won’t mind, most of all, if it meant keeping in touch with you.

“And besides, I have reports to send to Graham– location updates, aerial view images, all that jazz. I have many things to work on,” you say before he hears you yawn quietly. “It’s not like I can just stop doing these because I’m tired; at the end of the day, the president is a father who wants to know how his daughter is doing all the way on the other side of the world. He’s worried sick.”

“And at the end of the day, I’m just your boyfriend who wants to make sure my girlfriend is still taking care of herself despite all her workload,” Leon responds. “I know baby, I know but still take some time to rest– even for a little bit.”

A soft sigh can be heard from your end.

“Fine. But aren’t you supposed to be resting too? Don’t see any threats within a 3-mile radius, you’re good.”

“Nah. Gotta keep watch, can’t be too vigilant. You’ll be the one resting for both of us tonight,” he says.

“Leon.”

“I’ll get rest later, honey. I promise,” Leon pleads.

Another sigh. Gosh, Leon hates how you’ve been sighing a lot more lately, which meant that a lot was weighing on your mind.

“Promise me that. Or I’ll personally fly there to beat your ass.”

“I’d rather you beat something else of mine instead,” Leon jokes.

“I’ll remind you, agent Kennedy, that we’re still on government-operated frequencies so I highly recommend communicating in a professional manner.”

“Ma’am yes ma’am agent Kestrel, the absolute love of my life.”

“I’m going to go on the break you’ve been forcing me to have instead.”

Leon chuckles to himself, a small puff of air leaving his cracked and pale lips.

“Okay, okay. Good night, baby. I’ll talk to you 4 hours from now.”

“Good night, hon. I… I miss you and… please stay safe,” you sincerely whisper to him, unable to switch off the frequency connecting you to him.

“Me too. I miss you. I love you,” he says before turning the radio off and placing it back in one of the many fancy pockets he had.

He props one leg up while he sits, resting his forearm on his knee as he looks out into the dark and foggy scenery. The rain would be nice if he was back home with his girlfriend, cuddling and joking in the bed of their shared apartment instead of this miserable hellhole infested with mutants and murder-crazed cult fanatics. As much as he wanted to bring along a locket or a small picture of you he couldn’t, out of making sure that there would be no traces of foreigners that the crazy locals could use to somehow involve all of America into this. A faint creak of the rickety wooden floorboards has the hairs on the back of his head standing, his hands flying to the sleek silver pistol on his holster to point it at the source of the noise, only for the source of the noise to be the nosy Spaniard who was unfortunately very much wide awake and conscious throughout the conversation he had.

“Didn’t know you had a ladylove, sancho.” was all the man said after raising his arms up as the agent pointed his gun at him.

Leon put his gun back down, the usual smoulder and frown taking its place back into his haggard features as he sat back down and stared out into nothingness again.

“Didn’t peg you as the type to call a lady ‘baby’ or ‘honey’,” he teases. He walks up to Leon, taking a spot beside him and placing a cigarette to his lips before lighting the end of it with his lighter.

“‘You should probably get some rest, baby’,” Luis repeats with a sly smirk as he shoots Leon a curious look.

Leon simply gives him a death glare, squinting his eyes before turning his attention back to somewhere that isn’t irritating or getting on his last nerve.

“That’s not what it was.” It was what it was.

“Mhm, Sancho.”

“You be thankful she hasn’t ratted your ass out to the president yet,” he hisses.

“Good point there,” Luis sneers. “No… no anything then?”, to which Leon responds with silence.

“Then… perhaps she’d like to go out for a jive, a little dance of bachata with me,” the Spaniard presses with a shit-eating grin. “Since you two don’t seem to be anything.”

“Back off from my girlfriend,” Leon blurted as he froze the man in front of him with his steel blue gaze.

Luis puts out his cigarette, chucking it somewhere and gets up as he walks back to where he ‘slept’ moments ago.

“Okay, sancho. I can clearly see that you’re hers,” he comments. “I guess only you have the pass to call her ‘the absolute love of your life’. Buenas noches, amigo.”

With a wink, he lays back down on the floor and turns to his side to fall asleep.

NOTES - It feels great to finally get back to posting again!!! It's been quite some time and since I'm finally finished with the third quarter and my tests, I'll be more active with posting fics :)) Requests have been marinating in my inbox and I know ppl have been waiting for quite some time so here's the request, more otw!!!! I'm also eepy rn so I'm going to go to bed after I post this <3 Neways, thanks for reading my works and I <3333 UUUU!!!!!! HAVE A GREAT DAY WHEREVER YOU ARE <3

[nostalgebraist]

Frank @nostalgebraist-autoresponder will permanently halt operation at 9 PM PST this Wednesday (May 31, 2023).

For context on why, see this post.

(tl;dr this project been a labor of love for me for years, it takes a ton of continual effort, and my heart's not in it anymore.)

----

The blog itself will stay up indefinitely, it just won't make any new posts or accept asks.

Most of the code, models, etc. are freely available right now. Insofar as they are now, they will continue to be. The change on May 31 is unrelated to this stuff.

I've made various interactive demos of these components over the years, and the demos will likely still work after the bot stops. But I won't do any tech support or maintenance on them, and I would actively recommend against using these as a way to "get Frank back."

----

I want to emphasize the following:

The best way for you to "send Frank off" over the next few weeks is to talk to her just like usual.

(And not too often, because she can only make 250 posts a day.)

This is true for a number of reasons, and can be viewed from a number of different angles:

(1)

While it can be fun to anthropomorphize Frank, she is structured very differently from a person, or even an animal.

She does not remember anything, even between two asks made on the same day. Every moment is a new one, with no relation to any other.

If you say "goodbye" or "you're going to be shut off" to her on May 30 2023, it's just as though you had said the same thing to her on some random day last year. She can't tell the difference.

She doesn't know these things are true or relevant now, and she can't possibly know in the way a human would. She's hearing the words for the first time, every time, and reacting in accordance with that.

Think of it like interacting with a baby, or someone with dementia. Every moment stands alone. If you strike a sad tone, they don't appreciate that it's about something. They just know that there is a sad tone, in the current experiential moment.

(2)

Frank mostly operates on a first-come, first-serve basis. She can only make 250 posts a day. There is a limited amount of time left.

Be conscientious about the way you're using up "slots" in this limited array of remaining Frank posts. Don't hog the ride.

(3)

I'm shutting down this bot in part because it's been a long-term, low-grade source of stress to me. I'd like the last weeks of the bot to be as low-stress as they can be.

When Frank gets an unusually large, or just unusual, form of user input over a period of time, I usually have to step in and do something in response.

(if there's way more input than usual and I don't do anything special, Frank will fill up most of her post limit quota before I even wake up, and then the asks will pile up further and further over the rest of the day.)

Maybe I have to delete a bunch of asks. Maybe I have to deploy some temporary change to her mood parameters to prevent the mood from getting too high or low and not coming back to baseline. Maybe I have to turn on "userlist mode," which still involves a cumbersome manual procedure.

Or, maybe I just have to do a lot more content moderation than usual.

"Usual," here, means reviewing and (mostly) approving something like 20 different hypothetical Frank posts per day, every day. If I go do something fun, and let myself forget about this task completely for 6 or 8 hours, there's a backlog waiting for me afterwards. During busy times, there's even more of this.

Just, like, help me chill out a bit, okay? Thanks.

[the-offside-rule]

Drivers while their s/o studies

Just a mini series I felt like doing. : )

Charles Leclerc

Charles smiled as he entered the room, holding a tray with snacks and coffee for Y/n who had been sitting at her desk since that morning. "Hello mom cœur, I thought you might need a little pick-me-up while you work." He said, placing the tray on the table. Y/n looked up from her laptop, a grateful smile forming. "Oh what would I do without you?" She said as she held his face and peppered soft kisses onto it as he emptied the tray onto the desk. "Cry, maybe." He joked.

Charles sat down beside her and began eating a protein bar before Y/n continued on typing. "How's it going anyway?" he asked, genuinely interested. "It's a bit overwhelming, but I'll manage. Your snacks will definitely help." She replied, taking a sip of the coffee. Charles chuckled. "I believe in you. I'll leave you to it for a bit, though. I'm going to meet Lorenzo and Arthur in the gym. You know how it is."

Y/n nodde. "Yeah, go ahead. I'll be here when you get back." He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before heading out. "Take breaks, okay? Don't overwork yourself." He reminded her. "Of course, love. Have fun and give them my best!" As he left, Y/n couldn't help but smile. The small gestures made studying a lot more enjoyable, and she felt lucky to have Charles by her side.

Max Verstappen

Max woke up to an empty bed, the confusion evident on his face. Rubbing his eyes, he ventured into the living room, where he found Y/n engrossed in her laptop. Y/n spotted him from the corner of her eye and smiled at his sleepy face. "Morning, sleepyhead. Slept well?" She teased, looking up from her work. Max chuckled, and walked over to her. "Yeah, until I realized I was all alone." He placed a kiss atop of her head and peered over her shoulder. "What are you up to?"

"Got an assignment to finish, but you can keep me company." She suggested with a smile. Max raised an eyebrow. "Company? I was expecting a romantic morning, not a work session." Y/n laughed, "Well, I can't help it. University." He rolled his eyes. "I told you, you should have just gave in to being a stay-at-home girlfriend and now here we are with you leaving me I'm bed to work." Y/n chuckled at the light hearted joke. "Well if you loved me you would sit right here with me and keep me company, like a good temporary stay-at-home boyfriend?" Undeterred, Max decided to make the best of the situation. "Fine, but how about some breakfast first? I'll cook."

As Max prepared breakfast, they bantered back and forth, the kitchen filled with laughter. Sitting down on the sofa with their plates, Max linked his phone to the TV and began watching his race upcoming debrief that Red Bull had sent him. Y/n glanced at the screen every so often, finding it unbelievably distracting and whilst he had to watch it for work, why couldn't he just watch it on his phone?"Mind turning that off? I need to focus." Max pouted playfully. "Aw, come on. It's just background noise." She shook her head, "No, it's distracting. I need to concentrate."

A minor disagreement ensued, but Max, ever the compromiser, reached a resolution. "Fine, wear these," he said, handing her a pair of headphones. "You study, I watch my debrief." Y/n huffed, taking the headphones, "Deal. Just don't complain if I fail my exam because of this." Max grinned. "Deal, as long as you promise we actually so something romantic later on." Y/n grinned and connected her headphones to the laptop and began playing her music.

Lando Norris

Lando was deep into his online stream, enthusiastically commentating on his latest race in the virtual world. Meanwhile, Y/n diligently studied in the living room, trying to concentrate despite the growing noise. At first, it was fine because he only had Max on a voice call and then they started playing the F1 games and inviting drivers, and it all went to chaos.

The usual loudness was just about starting to sound normal until she heard a loud screeching from the streaming room. Y/n finally reached her limit. She threw her laptop to the side and stormed into the streaming room, wearing a bitter expression. Lando turned, smiling before the smile turned into a grim look. He...was...fucked. "Hi babe." He said quietly. "Lando, could you please keep it down a bit? I'm trying to study out here." She said calmly. She didn't want fans making up rumours about an argument.

Lando, still wearing his headset, looked guilty. "I will try, but Max is-" She cut him off. "Lando, you will be quiet. I cannot fail these exams. I just need you to be quiet. Understood?" He nodded. "I'm sorry, babe. I got carried away. I'll tone it down." The serious expression turned to a light hearted smile, before she looked to the computer, smiled and waved to greet the chat, before leaving.

Lando continued on playing, listening to the chaos on the call and not acting up. But the guilt lingered, and he suddenly had to leave the stream momentarily. "Hey, guys? I'll be right back. Just need to grab a drink, I'll be back in a sec. Promise." He announced to his fellow drivers and viewers before leaving the room. He rushed to the kitchen, returning to the living room with a peace offering of snacks and energy drinks for his girlfriend who sat on her bean bag with her study sheets sprawled across the coffee table. She looked up quickly before looking back to her work and continuing on typing. "I'm really sorry, Y/n. Here, I got you some goodies. Let me make it up to you." Lando said, kneeling down beside her and leaving a small plate of biscuits and sweets beside her. She looked between the plate and Lando, seeing the sincerity in his expression before she chuckled, accepting the snacks. "You're lucky you're cute when you're sorry. Just try to keep it down, okay?"

"Okay, I promise." He said, pecking her cheek and running back to the livestream with his can of Monster. Back in the streaming room, Lando continued his broadcast. He scrolled through the chat, noticing a comment from Y/n.

Thanks for the biccies, lovey <3 Good luck with your stream!

His fans erupted in supportive comments, finding the situation adorable. Lando couldn't help but smile, covering his face from how hard he was blushing. "You better leave me some 9f them biscuits, Y/n." Lando said into the camera. "Let's get back to the race, shall we?" The stream continued, with a more considerate Lando and a grateful Y/n watching from the sidelines.

Carlos Sainz Jr.

As the creatures and people of Madrid lay asleep in their beds, Y/n sat on her laptop working away beside her boyfriend who had just come back from a race weekend on the other side of the globe. Carlos stirred in his sleep, as the soft glow of Y/n's laptop pierced the darkness. "What are you doing?" He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. Y/n glanced at him, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. "Sorry, babe. Got a deadline. Can't sleep." He sighed, and turned his back so he would be able to get even a glimpse of sleep. "Alright, just keep it down, please." He whispered. "Yes sir, Mr Sainz." She yawns, still typing.

In the morning, Carlos awoke to Y/n still typing away in their bed, exhaustion evident in her eyes. She got a lot of work done and had work in three hours. "Morning." He whispered, kissing her hand before sitting up. "Morning. Did you sleep alright?" Y/n asked. "Other than that one time you woke me, yes. Did you sleep at all?" Carlos asked. Y/n shook her head. "You should get some sleep before work. Finish this when you get home, yeah?" Y/n sighed in defeat. She wouldn't be able to go to work if she was this tired. Maybe a two hour sleep wouldn't hurt? " Carlos nodded, taking her laptop, placing it on the bedside table and tucking her into bed, . "You need to rest." He insisted. "I will wake you before work, mi amor." She reassured her, kissing her hair and letting her fall asleep.

When Y/n awoke, she looked out to see that the sun was awfully bright for 8am. Then she turned and saw Carlos walking into the room with a tray of coffee and toast. "What are you doing?" Y/n asked, sitting up. Carlos paused and looked at her. "Breakfast?" He replied in a question. Y/n looked at her phone, her eyes wide. "Oh my god! It's half past 11. I'm so fucking late!" She said. "No you aren't." Carlos replied, placing the tray on his locker. "I had work two hours ago!" She protested.

Carlos shook his head. "I called your boss, said you were sick." Y/n's eyes widened to what he had said. "Why'd you do that?" She asked. "Because you needed it." He replied, pulling the duvet over them and putting his arm around Y/n. "Carlos, I cant-" He cut her off. "Should we watch Berlín? It's meant to be really good." He said, flicking through the Netflix. "Babe. I'm serious. I need to go to work." She said. "And I have said before; you could quit work and I'll take care of you. You won't quit but I am still gonna take care of you. Now stay with me in bed and help me pick a series for us to watch."

She stopped complaining and lay in his arms. "Yeah. Berlín sounds good." She mumbled quietly. "Good, now here's some toast."

George Russell

George had brought Y/n to race weekends before, but this time, she found herself confined to the team's hospitality area, engrossed in her upcoming exams. She looked up to the TV evey so often to see how her boyfriend was doing before turning her attention back to her laptop. Like an angel sent, George decided to check in on her in between sessions, finding her buried in textbooks and notes.

"Hey, how's it going?" he asked, pressing a kiss onto her head and leaning on the table. Y/n looked up, tired but determined. "Just trying to survive this study session. Well done on topping the session by the way." George grinned. "It's only the second practise. I think we know what strategy we're going for in qualifying though." He chuckled. "Have you eaten?" Y/n thinks for a moment and shakes her head. "You do know, you need to eat too."

She sighed, burying her head in her hands from exhaustion. "I know, I just lost track of time. Can you grab me something?" George smiled. "Of course." He replied, leaving momentarily and heading to the barista bar. He returned moments later with a croissant and a latte, placing them in front of her. "Fuel for the brain." he said with a smile. Y/n looked up at him appreciatively, "You're my hero, Mr Russell. Thank you so much."

"No problem. I know how important these exams are for you." He replied, sitting beside her. As she sipped the latte and nibbled on the croissant, George and her began talking. "Anything I can help with? Maybe a quick break to clear your mind?" Y/n smiled. "You being here is already a huge help. But maybe a motivational speech wouldn't hurt."

"Im not doing motivational speeches." They both burst into laughter, lightening the mood in the cozy hospitality space. George wrapped his arm around Y/n, offering comfort and support. "You're the best distraction," she admitted, leaning into him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "And you're the best thing that ever happened to me."

Lance Stroll

Lance sighed as he opened the door to his bedroom after his return from the gym to find Y/n looking a bit frustrated. He arched a brow as he sipped from his water bottle and decided to approach her, concern evident in his eyes. "What's wrong, babe?" He asked, sitting down beside her. She sighed. "I'm not sure, but I just can't study. Maybe it's just because of how different it is from studying in my office back home." Lance thought for a moment."How about you use my office? It's quiet, and you'll have all the space you need." He suggested. "Oh no, I couldn't." She replied. "No, seriously. I never use it anyway."

Y/n's face lit up with gratitude as Lance led her to his office. The room was filled with shelves displaying Lance's collection of racing helmets and trophies. The large floor-to-ceiling window revealed a breathtaking snowy landscape of their estate. "This is perfect." Y/n whispered, finding the desk facing the wonderous view. Lance smiled, happy to help her. "If you need me just call. I'm just gonna hit the shower." He said, pressing a kiss onto her cheek. "Thank you, babe." She grinned, setting her stuff down. "Anytime." He shot back before leaving and making his way to his bathroom to shower.

Y/n had gotten a lot done since she sat down. The view was a perfect distraction but not too distracting that she couldn't focus. If anything, it was there to just calm her down before getting right back to it. An hour passed, and Lance returned with snacks, finding Y/n engrossed in her studies. "Hey, how are you getting on?" He asked, peering through the door. "Doing good, Lancelot. I am doing good." She smiled, still jotting down some notes. He walked in with a tray of snacks. In between him showering and him walking around the kitchen, he decided Y/n needed to take a break and made up a snack tray to bring her.

"Need a study break?" he asked, handing her a twix. Y/n grinned, "Definitely. Thanks for this, Lance. This office is amazing." Lance chuckled, "Well, it's only fair you get a taste of my world too. Plus, I like having you happy." As they enjoyed their snacks, the conversation turned from how everyone in the house has an office to the trophies and helmets on the walls.

"You know-" Lance began, taking down his Balu trophy from back in 2017. "This one's from my first podium. I was so excited that day." Y/n smiled as she sipped her cola. "I can see why. You've got an impressive collection of trophies, Lancey." He looked at her warmly. "But none of them compare to having my trophy girlfriend. I worked my ass off to even get you on a date." Y/n laughed. "I'm serious! You kept saying no!"

"You should've taken the hint." Y/n replied. "Then who would be sat in this office?" Lance asked. "I don't know. One of those weird models that throw themselves at you, I guess." She joked. "Yeah, but I prefer you." Lance said. There grew a comfortable silence before Lamce stood up, collecting the wrappers off the snacks and putting them back onto the tray. "I guess it's time for you to get back to studying." Lance said. "Thank you for the company." Y/n smiled as Lamce leaned down to give her a kiss. "How about we watch a movie later and order takeout? Sound good?" Lance suggested. Y/n nodded. You really are a dream."

[kissforyouu]

Can you write a drabble of oc surprising jk with a new tattoo. I’d picture she’d get something cute like a peach or a bunny idkkk but she’d definitely have something small and dainty. She’d probably put it somewhere where only Jk could see too🤭

oc is not that much into tattoos, but she'd sometimes use temporary tattoos on herself and show jk. he'd just keep asking her over and over "when are you getting a real oneeee". he completely doesn't mind tattoos on oc at all, considering how tatted up he is too. but when oc actually does get a tattoo...

"jungkook!" you shout from across his living room, excitedly skipping your way through. he yells back from his room, surprised that you came over. you didn't even tell him beforehand. your boyfriend exits his room to have you jump on his body right after, hugging the man like the world was going to end right now.

you hug him really tight, swaying him from side to side. "hi, baby!" your voice was high pitched as you placed kisses all over your boyfriend's cheek. he loved whenever you acted like this. kisses were his favourite. jungkook liked to get pampered by you a lot. even though he'll probably never admit to it.

"hi, sweetheart." his smile was big and bright, probably even starting to hurt his face at this point. you let go of his body, finally freeing him.

"i got tatted." bombshell.

"like, tatted for real? not temporary?"

"nope! actual tattoo, look."

jungkook was surprised. you swore to yourself to never actually get a proper tattoo because you were afraid that later you might regret it. but you actually did it? okay, where is it? what type of tattoo? jungkook was thrilled.

but the moment you bent over and to strip down, jungkook's draw fully drops. shit. you had a sly smirk on your face, fully aware of what you were doing as you discarded your pants. there revealed your black lace panties.

"here." you turn around your upper body to point at the small (very small) red heart tattoo on your ass cheek. it was right below your waist near your hips. cute, he thought. very small though, very. but jungkook wasn't surprised at how small it was. the little tattoo complimented your ass well, and your whole personality itself. it suits you. but it wasn't the tattoo that had him mermerised, it was definitely your ass. lol.

ever since then, man's been obsessed with doggy style just to see your dainty tattoo bounce on his cock over and over again. he makes sure kiss it every time whenever you guys had sex. the obsession was real.

in addition to that little tattoo was another dainty heart but this time on the side of your middle finger and some other sparkles. and not necessarily a tattoo, but a belly piercing you got when you were around 16 and (totally legal!) a bunch of other piercings in your ears.

taglist : @fungie2332 @wintertxt @wheexine @hyunjinswifeee @ohsweetmimosa @canyon-txt @kooreo @rrosiitas @goldenjeonkoo

[writingmeraki]

hot & cold I

READ PART TWO HERE !

a min ho mini series !

summary : Feeling the warm butterflies in your stomach as well as the cold sinking feeling in your heart wasn't the best especially just because of one person nonetheless you think it was worse because that person was none other than the guy you apparently hated with your entire existence.

( or you long crossed the blurry lines of love and hate when it came to Minho and were both just idiotic enough to not realise that until you had to force it out of yourself because of your stupidity.)

genre : angst, fluff, comfort !

pairing : minho x fem!reader, e2l, idiots to lovers.

warnings : mentions of alcohol and underage drinking, kissing and making out, cussing. both being dumb and too high on their ego. kinda blame it on Minho in this one I fear 😨

author's note : and as my obsession goes crazy, I knew I had to write a miniseries on Minho. I honestly have no idea how long it can be this time, it'll mostly depend on your feedback but also how long I make this but expect 2-3 parts more ?? this was written out of nowhere tbh because I had a really different idea for this. anyways enjoy and let me know what you think ! <3 ( not proofread as usual, we die like real men 😀)

based on this request !

word count : 4.3k

"Maybe you should put that down now."

Kitty said, observing the way you tipped down the cocktail, be it a secret yet not secret alcoholic one.

You winced and shook your head as you smashed the glass down after, Kitty having to shoot an apologetic look to the temporary bartender, who wanted nothing more than to be anywhere else but a party of drunk and horny teenagers sneaking in alcohol and downing it as though they were going through all stages of grief at the moment or in moments of classical teenage stupidity.

"Oh- KAY! I think that's more than enough." She pulled your hands away from the other cocktail that was served up,despite this one now being the only non-alcoholic, she felt it was getting a lot and you whined at her, she narrowed her eyes at you.

"Y/N, you've had more than enough."

"Noooo, I'm fine I can handle ittt." Your words slurred and she gave you a blank stare, holding up two fingers, she asked

"Okay then, how many fingers I am holding up?"

You narrowed your eyes, trying to think hard and giggled as you spoke

"Kitty, Katty since when did you have six fingers?" A drunken smile sat on your face as you leaned forward pointing your finger to count the 'six' fingers.

You vision was blurry but you were still able to make out the outline of what was in front of you.

Kitty rolled her eyes and sighed softly "How much did you even have?"

You put up both your hands, all fingers up and her eyes widened almost comically, it only made you giggle at her expressions,

"TEN? please tell me TEN sips!"

"Nooo silly, of course not…it was just three glasses with that sercret ingredient." You whispered to her as you leaned in closer as though you were telling a top secret and in a way it was, your lips were turned upwards, dimples lightly peaking.

"Alright, we have to get you back to the dorms then! Let me call Q and Florian, then we'll go okay? You stay here. Don't move Y/N!" She pointed at you, her words strict but you couldn't think about anything other than how pretty she seemed at the moment, so without much thought you blurted out,

"You look so pretty, Kit, you really do." Your eyes were half closed but you could see her wearing a tight black dress, her hair done down and straight, her black heels only making her figure look leaner.

Kitty, despite knowing you were drunk, couldn't help but laugh at your words, she shook her head and told you one last time before disappearing to find Q and Florian as soon as she could.

Looking up, the ceiling was multicolored, flashes of blue and green danced across it and you looked in awe as if it was a piece of art.

You looked around you, noticing the way the entire place seemed to be overcrowded but people were having fun, either getting shit drunk or dancing as if it was their last time.

Welcome to your life

There's no turning back

Even while we sleep

We will find you

You smiled when you heard the familiar tune and lyrics, having hearing it from your roommate and also ended up falling in love with it, the beat was slightly altered to make it more party pop but it only made it more better.

Standing up and stumbling slightly as you made your way to the dance floor, the world looking like it was moving fast as you also moved your body along to the crowd.

You felt as though you'd been hit so hard when you ended up colliding harshly into the person and you braced yourself for the fall, feeling as if you're flying high to come crashing hard into the ground.

Acting on your best behaviour

Turn your back on mother nature

Everybody wants to rule the world

And as cliche as it could get, you didn't feel the crash instead a stronger grip on your waist pulled you back up as the side face instead hit something soft yet firm.

You looked up and you felt the same awe when you saw the multicolored ceiling as though it was a piece of art, maybe even more, as your eyes scanned his face.

It's my own design

It's my own remorse

Help me to decide

Help me make the most

Colours shone on his face, highlighting his sharp jawline that you felt yourself get lost in, you continued to scan the bridge of his nose and his cupid's bow. You looked into his eyes and only felt your haziness increase as you felt the tug in your heart. They seemed to drink you in as you did him, and your gaze turned to the way one corner of his lips turned upwards.

The arm around your waist felt warmer than it should and you definitely felt the heat on your face, your entire body even. Your knees felt more weaker as you prayed your legs didn't give up on you, and with this the grip on your waist only got tighter.

Minho looked down at you, his gaze never leaving your face as he held you up. Staring at your lips for a little longer than he should have. The fact that he felt as if there were sparks of electricity running through just by the waist around your arm and most of your body weight on his, made him only want more. More than he should be wanting.

And again, letting your intrusive thoughts take the wheel of your actions, you lifted up one hand and brushed it along his jawline.

"Ouch…paper cut." Giggling at your ridiculous joke, you rested your head on his shoulder now, moving your arms around his broad shoulders.

Naturally, his own arms now fully wrapped around your waist and if someone, which more than a few heads turned, saw you in this position, it'd look more intimate than it should. Considering how far down you both go.

Minho smiled unknowingly, the sound of your giggles always making his heart race more than it should.

"I know you're clumsy as fuck, but I didn't think you'd fall for me this soon, I guess it would happen soon anyways considering how intelligent and good looking I am."

Your eyes moved to look up into his, noticing his lips pulled into a smirk that really only did more things unbeknownst to you,and you narrowed them before slurring out,

"You sound exactly like Minho, I actually thought it was almost you." You continued mumbling,

"But I know it's definitely not him, considering he was already busy with that…Madison." You rolled your eyes, slowly shutting them and you pushed your head back down onto his shoulders and moved closer to the crook of his neck, craving the warmth he radiated.

"Plus I'm sure he'd let me fall face first on the ground if I fell on him the way I just did." You mumbled into his neck, he felt himself control the shiver that run down his spine when your lips touched his neck as you mumbled.

Frowning, he spoke up, wanting to defend himself even if it seemed pointless,

"No, he wouldn't." He said firmly and you looked up at him as you thought of his words,

"Considering how we are, I don't think I'm wrong to assume he'd do that." Even though you were drunk, you spoke the words more smoothly as if it was a whole truth.

"Besides I don't even care what he does, he can go kiss that…that girl for all I care, no I definitely don't care if he does this with her, if he looks at her like that way."

Minho's expression turned down, his eyebrows furrowing and his lips pulled into a frown,

"What way?" He asked softly as he could see your eyes tearing up and you gulped sadly and you put on a dejected smile,

"How I wish, I wish he'd look at me, for once." You said more gently, whispering letting your vulnerable feelings speak up.

He only felt his heart sinking the more he took in the sadness and vulnerability showing on your face, he felt his guilt double than it had before as he recalled why he'd even been making out with Madison in the first place.

He'd felt his entire focus zone in on the person who'd just walk in the place.

Even as much as he seemed to hate your mere presence, his eyes always seemed to drift towards you much to his annoyance.

His gaze felt heavy as it dragged from the shoes you'd worn to the hairstyle you'd done. Your outfit consisted of a maroon tight dress that had ended just below your knees, a teasing slit running just a little further up your left side, just enough to make someone want to see more.

Your lips were a similar shade of maroon as you smiled, depths forming on your cheeks that tugged at his heart, your hair done down and resting just below your shoulders.

You looked…you looked better than he could even describe.

Beautiful would be a word, but he thinks it underwhelms you.

Kitty was beside you in her black dress and her hair done down but his eyes couldn't stop drinking you in as if it was not enough for him.

He wanted something he shouldn't. He shouldn't be thinking about you right now the way he is.

He forced himself to look away, searching for someone else in the crowd.

He looked better than he should and you hated the way your eyes moved to the dip between his throat and shirt.

Gosh that's such an ugly fucking colour you thought yet you felt fainter as your eyes scanned the way his hair was parted, something you knew only he could pull off. Some loose strands sat on his forehead and you hated the way you felt your legs almost give up in these tight heels as you took in the way the blazer fit his broad shoulders.

Fuck he looked good.

You looked at him, observing him scanning the crowd as he disappeared away.

"Let's get this party started!" Kitty said excitedly to which you lightly laughed,

"Kitty it's already started, we are already like forty minutes late because of a certain someone but sure! Love the enthusiasm! Woo!" You chuckled as you saw her excitement bubble down and then laughing along with you.

"Let's go then girls! The best place at a party, the bar!" Q threw his arms around both your shoulders as he sloshed himself between you, now pulling you towards the bar.

The bartender served up five mocktails which you thought were too beautiful looking to be drank but you raised a toast,

"Here's to meeting new people and ending our bitchless eras!" You toasted as you giggled which was followed by the rest clinking their respective glasses onto yours as you took a sip.

"Guys,I have something." Florian spoke as he pulled a flask from his blazer and your eyes widened at the sight, knowing what it was.

"Oh My God! No way… now you're the real one for this." You said as he winked at you and opened the flask, the smell already indicating what it was as he poured in a bit into yours and his.

"Ohh me too! Me too!" Kitty said as she pushed her glass towards him and he poured in hers as well.

"The last for the best." Florian spoke as he poured it in Q's drink which made him look away and you smirked as you saw him almost blush.

"Now this is a real toast." You finally clinked your drinks for the last time, now taking in a sip, wincing yet loving the bitter taste that contrasted well with the sweetness of the cocktail.

"By the way, Y/N, I don't think you're ever going to be able to meet new people." Kitty spoke which made you turn to her in confusion.

"I mean come on, you won't be able to meet new people because you already are into someone." She continued and now looked towards Q, him nodding in agreement as you still looked in confusion.

"Oh please, don't look like a lost puppy now, we all saw the way you basically bore your eyes into Min ho as soon as you saw him like a hungry vulture or something." Q said which made Florian chuckle and you only glared at his words as though looks could kill.

"You don't plan a murder out loud now do you?" You defended yourself as Kitty rolled her eyes,

"More like you'd kill anyone who'd dare even hurt a fraction of his hair." Kitty said to which now both Florian and Q nodded, feeling betrayal as you looked at Florian, thinking he'd been on your side to which he only raised his hands in his defense.

"Look, Y/N, maybe you don't see it, but you definitely go past the so called hate line you both have." He said as he knew you surely felt more for him than the passive aggressive persona you showed when he was around.

"After all they do say the lines between love and hate tend to blur." Kitty said as she took a sip of her drink and you only scoffed, ready to reply saying you knew where you stood and you were gladly under the hate side, despising Min ho because of his unbearable personality that would make you so mad.

So mad you'd want to punch his pretty face at times.

"Uh oh." Q said suddenly as his eyes caught a sight that he wished wouldn't have but they quickly widened when he realised you were literally right next to him and probably heard him.

Naturally your eyes moved to where he was looking, and oh how you wished you also didn't see what you just saw but for completely different reasons that you couldn't put a finger on at the time being.

Minho stood next to Madison as he whispered something into her ears, which made her laugh, you saw the way his arm was wrapped around her waist, hiding her close to him.

You felt like throwing up as your stomach recoil and churn, moving your eyes, not wanting to think more of this than you should. But it seemed as though it was impossible as the image replayed in your mind.

You felt the tension in the air when your face twisted bitterly, noticing your friends also tensing up and felt guilty for suddenly changing the cheerful mood.

"Guys come one now, I don't care, now go and have fun!" You reassured them as they looked at you skeptically.

"Listen, he can go and fuck around with whoever he wants, I really don't care. We shouldn't let this ruin our moods. Now go." You bit on your tongue as put on a tight smile, no usual dimples peaking, a sign it was fake.

Hearing the firmer tone at the end, Q and Florian nodded as they held hands "Okay then, find us when you need us okay?"

Q said as you just mindlessly nodded and they also moved into the flow of the crowd.

Kitty still looked at you skeptically but you just smiled at her, now a genuine one telling her to go on and finish her agenda of meeting new people.

At least one of you seemed ready to move on.

"Thank you." You heard a voice suddenly speak up from beside you as you sat nursing the cocktail in your hands, it's coolness relieving the warmth your body felt.

"Oh someone with manners, I like that." You said putting down your drink, deciding that if he can fuck around when he wants, who were you to not as well.

The guy next to you turns towards you, him taking in your figure, a smirk forming on his face as he realised who you were.

"I'm Geon." He said to which you smiled.

"Y/N." You spoke up to which he chuckled which made you a bit confused,

"Oh I know." You raised an eyebrow at his words,

"It's an honor to have the hottest girl here talking to me." He said with a grin as you then lifted your drink to take another sip, after which you giggled at his words, even though you didn't think you would have even been phased if it weren't for the alcohol now slowly flowing in your system.

"Oh yeah? Tell me more." You leaned in closer to him with a smug smile, biting your lip lightly to which you think again, this probably wouldn't be happening right now if it weren't for the liquid courage or your mess of an emotional baggage.

This whole spectacle was being seen by someone who'd otherwise think you were both already together. He rolled his eyes, looking away as he clicked his tongue, folding his arms and a scowl of both disgust and jealousy forming on his face.

Of course.

He thought looking back at the pair of Geon and you.

"I think she's better than all the other girls, even Yuri, people say she's the prettiest but don't realize that they are wrong. And Kitty next to you looks so underwhelming but both of them are nothing but plain next to you."

And despite you starting to feel more tipsy, you controlled the urge to just flip him off.

Instead you leaned in closer, raising one hand and cupping his face, bringing your face near his ear, as though you'd whisper about how he was definitely right, a light smile forming on his face.

That's what he thought at least.

Chuckling lowly, you whispered sweetly,

"You know sweety, what type of men I absolutely despise?"

You briefly made eye contact with him when he looked down at you from the corner of his eye.

"The ones who bring women down in hopes of getting into my pants and thinking that will actually work."

You trailed your hand down his neck, fingers lightly touching, he gulped as he shivered under your touch, the grin forming on his face long gone when he heard the venom lacing your tone.

"Let alone the fact that they are my best friends, and trust me, if I wanted to I'd punch the shit out of you right now but,listen to me carefully."

You rested your hand on his collarbone,

"No girl is meant for your judging pleasure especially not for undeserving dickheads like you and if you dare talk to me again, trust me, I can do much worse than you can think."

You leaned back and patted his chest, grinning widely, but your eyes said a completely different story.

"Now. Fuck off."

And fuck off he did as he swallowed nervously, turning around and moving into the crazy crowd,mumbling something under his breath, you not really caring to pay attention to his words as you sighed out, rubbing your forehead with your fingers.

Men are nothing but disappointment, what did I even expect ?

"Hey guess what!- what happened to you?" Kitty said as she suddenly appeared from your right side making you surprised but you smiled at her reassuringly, not wanting her to know what that jerk said for obvious reasons.

"Oh it's nothing, it's getting noisy that's all." Kitty didn't seem convinced at all because she did spot you talking to Geon, not wanting to interrupt when he saw you whispering something to him,

Huh so she really was serious about the whole meeting new people thing?

But when he walked away looking a little paler, she figured it was not exactly what it looked like, deciding that she should intervene now.

"Oh-kay but you know what, I just…" You now looked forward your back facing the bar as you placed your elbows on the counter, leaning onto them, raising an eyebrow at her for her to continue,

"I am glad I came here, I'm glad we all did, I'm happy, for once and it feels so…so good to be happy with you guys who I didn't think would even be my friends."

She said smiling at you, her sitting down next to your stool, and you turned your neck, looking at her now,

You smiled, finally a genuine one and it showed when your dimples showed,

"I'm glad I met you guys as well." You told her and just as she was about to say something, her eyes trailed towards your left, narrowing to make sure she was seeing right.

She froze when she saw you look at her, naturally wanting to see what made her look the way she was looking right now.

"Uh! Well look you know I'm happy you…uh well you agreed to come here!" She pulled your shoulders a little forcefully, the rotating barstool moving and making you now face her.

You looked perplexed at her behaviour, especially how she almost knocked you out but she just smiled at you, a little too forcefully.

"I just think you should know you deserve better than you think and even if it's not-"

"Kitty."

You called out to her, stopping her rambling, moving your hands up from off your shoulders.

"What's got you so…so nervous all of a sudden?" You questioned seeing her eyes still fixated behind you, her hand stopping you again from turning around.

"I just don't think you should see this. Really." She swallowed nervously and you waved her off,

"It's not that deep Kitty chill." You said but how you wished you'd listen to her.

You went rigid, seeing the sight now in front of you and clenched your jaw.

There was Minho in all his glory, kissing, no more like passionately making out with none other than Madison.

He had his arms around her waist as she played with his hair, and you could see her smile into the kiss. His mouth moved from her lips to her jawline and you watched her giggle as he seemed to be whispering something that made her laugh only more.

Fuck.

Why did it feel like someone just ripped your heart out and smashed it right in front of you with their bare hands?

You turned towards the bar, squeezing your eyes shut, holding your head in your hands as you felt the pounding in it get harder.

You gulped harshly trying to squeeze the image out of your brain,

"Y/N." Kitty put her hand on your shoulder, her warm touch contrasting the coldness you felt.

"Ah, I should have listened to you." You laughed but it held no humour. You could feel your emotions go all over the place as you replayed everything you'd seen till now.

Both of them laughing together, him looking at her as if she was the only on there, him focusing on her as if she was the only one there, him making out with her as if she'd slip away from his hands.

"You know what maybe I just need a little drink." You raised your hand up calling for the bartender and asking for two cocktails.

You put your hand out to Kitty expectedly, her frowning at the way you tried to act as if it was all right but she could see the unshed tears on your lash line.

Before she could say anything, you asked her quickly,

"Where's that whisky Florian gave you?" Talking about the flask she'd been hiding in her purse that was given to her by Florian.

"Y/N, you can't just drink away your emotions like this, you can't even handle alcohol-"

"Kitty, I'll be fine, just…just give it to me please?"

She sighed, she knew about your tendency to avoid talking about your feelings. She just opened up her purse and removed the flask just as the bartender served the drinks.

You took it from her and poured a questionable amount but you didn't really care at the moment, wanting to feel the high rather than the heaviness you currently felt creeping in your chest.

Raising a toast to yourself, you grinned up at Kitty, a sorrowness that only made her feel more and more sympathic for you.

"Here's to the most unluckiest person at the moment, me!"

That was now half an hour ago, and here you were now wrapped tightly around the very person who'd made you feel miserable in the first place.

"You know it's not even his fault. We don't even like each other. I'm pretty sure he hates me but why the fuck does it hurt so bad?" You whined as you pulled away from the supposed stranger's, attractive one at least, body and stood up on your own.

You pushed his arms away from you and you almost stumbles but held one hand out when he tried to hold you again to prevent you from falling,

"Y/N you'll fall-"

"No, I'm fine, I swear. I don't even know why I just dumped that weird emotional baggage onto you, sorry."

"Thank you anyways, for you know saving me from breaking my own face right there, if you want me to repay you, just come to Chemistry class first period on Monday!"

You stepped away from him and trying to not cry because no matter how drunk you were you didn't want to cry over some stupid boy.

Minho stood there, his eyes downcast as he remembered the look on your face, he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily.

How do I even begin ?

READ PART TWO HERE !

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri.do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2023

feedback is appreciated hehe :D 💗

links : main navi !

[thedeathwitchescats]

Okay, review time!! If you are one of the oddballs who thinks you cant be critical of something you love I suggest you stop reading now before I ruffle your feathers. Iron flame, second in the empyrean series. I am gonna start with what I was not a fan of and then go into the shit I adored.

1) what in the actual fuck was the pacing of this book?? I can tell you what, it was non existent. There was none. Where I thought there was a lot of filler in the last book there was none in this one. We got snap shots of conversations and then *boom* more plot flew at you. The timeline of this book greatly suffered for it i think bc we end only a couple weeks, if that, after threshing, which happens sometimes in October. This book was actually so wild with times.

2) while it was a spectacular cliff hanger, xaden becoming venin pisses me off. Especially if Rebecca yarros isnt going to have him tell violet. Like if that small tid bit of a conversation we got wasnt him telling vi that he was venin then the entire romantic conflict of this book was rendered pointless and their going to be having the same fucking fight for the rest of the series and at rhat point I give up.

3) I understand that the revolution is trying to take down basgaith and make the world better or whatever the fuck but can someone actually formulate a real plan for me?? Because I feel like their mission is just, giving violet and xaden something to be pissed at each other about.

4) the entirety of cats character. I get that she was set up as a spin on the typical jealous ex. Like having her be bitter about xaden picking violet over her but OH WAIT it wasnt actually about the man it was about the crown, oohh not like other girls. Im a writer too I see the point. I dont care. I think it was trashy. If you wanted her to be a bitter spiteful ex then have her be a bitter spiteful ex, the whole crown thing was shallow.

OKAY haters your time is up now onto the shit that made my heart hurt with joy and sadness

1) xadens arc in this book. I really liked that he went from "transparency is never gonna happen" to losing his fucking mind over violet and giving her everything. I love feral men and he qualifies. I think his arc was really well done and i liked it.

2) I appericiate that violet stuck to her guns for this book. She wouldnt let xaden off without a fight and I loved that. She made him bow and scrape and I was eating it up. It was spectacular.

3) the throne room scene. Violet on the throne. "Im making a temporary point not a lasting vow of maschocism" xaden being feral.

4) that gets its own point actually, just xaden being completely feral this entire book healed a part of my soul.

5) andarna's little speech at the end where she was like "I waited for you violet" made me ugly cry. That was just so hopelessly good I loved it. Andarna in general heals my heart but that part was just *chefs kiss*

6) tarin being completely and utterly ready to eat people this entire book. Just, at every turn "I want lunch their pissing me off " was spectacular

7) every scene their squad was in. Rihannon, violet, sawyer and ridoc are my roman empire. Their bond is so amazing. The fact that they launched a rescue mission for violet. Rihannon being ready to kill xaden at every turn. Ridoc being so platonically and adorably in love with violet. Just- augh happy cries happy cries. I love it all. Their so special tbh.

8) I love xaden actually, just, the whole book every scene hes in lives in my brain.

9) I liked that we saw a small bit of violet being feral this book too. I hope that we get more of that in future books. I want more of violet losing her fucking mind. Hot, badass women covered in blood

10) Liam. Fucking Liam. When violet was kidnapped and Liam was there. Now, do I logically understand that he was a hallucination, yes, do i care?? No. He was a gift from Maleck I will be hearing no critiques on that. It was so fucking sweet and amazing. I love violet and Liam and Liam being dead so horribly breaks my heart. I loved Liam. Liams death lives rent free in my skull.

[arahdow]

SHY AROUND YOU

Pairing. Knuckles x reader

Content. fem!reader. lil angst, hurt-comfort, knuckles having trouble with his emotions. kissing but nothing too sensual or anything.

Word count. 1.3 k

A/N. Not beta read, we die like men. Also, again, sorry if it's too occ! I had the time of my life writing this sjdjs (it's 4:51 am atm send help)

At the distance, you could see the echidna and the bat talking to each other. Rogue was smiling and occasionally pushing his shoulder, a playful glint on her lips, as he seemed to not mind her closeness. You frowned at their interaction.

It wasn’t the first time it happened, it actually became a usual thing. Rogue speaking with Knuckles about her life, him telling her stories about his past, like old time friends. He always said she was his best friend, even before you two met. It was sweet at first, knowing he had such a reliable someone to hold on to. But not right now. Right now you were fuming.

You and Knuckles have been a couple since a couple of months, both of you getting used to each other’s mannerisms and habits, it was something you really treasured as you spent a good year or maybe more, trying to open your way into his heart. In the end, he let you build a little nest in his mind, as he kept thinking more and more of you every day, and not the typical worry, no, it was something beyond that. Something that wanted you close to him at all times. To protect you when he was around, and if he wasn't you were in his thoughts until he sees you again.

So, with a lot of effort and patience, he explained his feelings and you ended up catching on what he was talking about. Needless to say, you spent the whole evening together, speaking about deeper topics and stuff. It was such a sweet memory.

But it’s been days, even a few weeks since the last time he has kissed you. At first it was fine, you were busy with tasks around the island, and Knuckles was busy guarding the emerald, you barely saw each other and you were okay with that. You knew it was a temporary thing and there was nothing to worry about.

Even then, the thing that made your heart grieve in the worst way was how shy and reserved he became since you don’t spend much time together anymore.

It’s like you returned to base one again.

You were sad, of course, worried. And even then you showed empathy, knowing he needed space and maybe time to grow closer to you again. But seeing him right now being his extroverted self with Rogue ticked you in a bad way. He seemed genuinely happy. He laughed at her comments and didn’t seem to mind her hand touching him. It made your blood boil.

Standing from the beach chair you were sitting on, you started walking towards your shared home. The whole crew went to the beach to rest for a bit after the week’s activities, and you thought it was a good idea to try and make an advance on your boyfriend. But right now, you were just pissed off and wanted to sleep the anger away.

As you entered your home, the first thing you saw was two rocks on the top counter. It was the two rocks you both chose as a token from the day you both became lovers. One was a reddish stone with white undertones and the other was a shimmering one. It made your eyes sting just remembering how nice those times were. It was hard noticing how sad times got.

Getting close to the rocks, you took the reddish one, that symbolized Knuckles, and felt your eyes water. Your emotions were caught red handed when you felt a presence behind you. Wiping the few tears away, you left the rock on it’s place and started to go to your room, when a big hand stopped you, holding you from your forearm.

You whined a bit, not because of pain, but because you missed his touch more than ever and this is the first time he has touched you in days. It was pathetic.

“What’s wrong?” You heard his low voice, and something inside you stirred. Oh you were so in love with the oblivious echidna and there was nothing you could do about it.

“Nothing…” The voice came out in a thread. You winced listening how broken you sounded.

“You left, why?”

And you wanted to punch him so bad right then and there, but you knew better. He was so muscular, your hand would hurt first than his body if you were to punch him. Shaking your head, you looked at him in the eye. “What’s the matter with you?”

He looked at you confused. “Me?”

You choked on a humorless laugh. “Yeah, you seemed pretty occupied with Rogue, I didn’t want to intrude…”

“What’s this about?”

A groan left your throat. Time to let it all out. “Knuckles you’re not the same. You haven’t been the same. You’re not the guy I wanted to be with a few days ago.” You started to breathe fast. “You’ve changed. You feel like you don’t love me anymore. You don’t say it, you don’t show it, and I can’t handle that kind of treatment..."

Taking a deep breath, you continued, speaking fast and breathy. "What do you think it feels when other girl can have all of your loving self and not me?" The air was soon leaving your lungs making you feel like burning. Choking on a sob you didn’t know was there, you continued. “I’m sorry, but there’s space for one girl inside of your heart and if it’s not me then, what are we doing?”

The echidna stood there, motionless, and you didn’t know if it was a good signal. You thought he wanted space.

Trying to leave, you yanked your arm. But it was no use, he had such a strong grip on you. Looking at the floor, he seemed deep in thought. He pressed his lips, motionless. His breathing was easy and calculated. Almost too calm.

“I don’t…” He started, then shaking his head. “I’d never…” His eyes met yours. “I… Don’t… Why…” His body seemed composed, but in his eyes, you saw fear. And the tremor in his voice confirmed that he was scared. Of losing you, perhaps. “I don’t know what to do…” He said rapidly.

You sighed, walking slowly to the couch on the living room making him follow with short steps. When both of you were close, you sat down and made him mirror your actions.

“Knux…”

“I don’t know how to make it better, help me, how can I…” He looked at the floor with furrowed eyebrows.

“First of all, don’t be so hard on yourself.” You said, breathing in slowly, trying to make him follow your inhaling and exhaling. “Second, tell me how are you feeling, what are you feeling?”

Silence reigned between the two of you. The only thing to be heard was both of your breathing.

“I feel bad. I feel angry, and sad, and like the worst boyfriend…” He said with an annoyed grunt.

“Now, what would be good thing to say?” You ask. It was like a mechanical thing, but it always helped him with his unknown emotions. And he loved you for understanding him and helping him even in these moments.

Knuckles turned a bit and took both your hands, he kissed them and sighed. “I’m sorry, darling.” He looked down. “Rogue is just a friend, I always see her as my big sister, helping me with things regarding of our relationship… But I didn’t think how that might’ve looked from your perspective.” He pouted a bit making you smile lightly, suddenly your mind imagining a lost Knuckles asking Rogue for dating advice.

“You ask her about us?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed. “I wanted to know how to make a special dinner for us, you know, it's gonna be our anniversary soon… It was a surprise but it wouldn’t be fun if you break up with me before I can even start to plan it.” He said sheepishly.

A smile broke into your lips. “You’re so silly, but also cute.” you said, holding a hand out to caress the fur on his cheeks. “We can plan it together!”

“But what about the surprise? Rogue said it was indispensable to have a surprise on a special dinner.” The echidna complained.

You thought. “Well, we can give each other a special gift, what about that?”

Knuckles thought for a bit before he nodded. “Agreed!”

Both of you smiled at each other. One of his hands traveled to your cheek, caressing the skin under his covered palm. Looking at him lovingly, you kissed the inside of his palm, trying to convey your feelings with your lips.

He seemed deep in thought, when suddenly his hand cupped your cheek firmly and started pulling you towards him. His face coming close to yours, watching intently at your sparkling eyes. With a swift movement, you got closer and cut the space in between the two of you, kissing his lips.

The echidna gasped lightly in between the kiss but soon reciprocated sweetly.

The kiss was brief. You pulled away and he looked at you enamoured. "I feel my stomach fuzzy."

Giggling at his words, you nuzzled on his chest fur and smiled. "I missed kissing you too, Knux."