#trying to get through my washing machine asks so i can move on with my life

[shittyutmv]

Drying ink on a clothesline is taking forever. Maybe you could speed up the process with a hairdryer?

guys i don’t know what to do anymore. i might have to goodwill him (context) ink by comyet

[bonny-kookoo]

Hey Bonny!! I saw you wanted to play a game, so how does this sound for a drabble? Dragon! Yoongi (or Kookie since I know he's your guy) x Fairy! Reader?? Idk if you've written fairies before, but I know you've done dragons! 💜🤍

I have a dragon kook x fairy reader on my patreon as early access, so I'll make this one yoongi!

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Yoongi

Hidden in the woods

Dragons are rather social creatures- but when a young Dragonblood named Yoongi fails to find a partner while all his friends and family have moved way past those events already, he isolates himself, believing he might just be destined to be a loner. But maybe, he was just impatient.

Tags/Warnings: Dragon hybrid!Yoongi, Fairy!Reader, strangers to ???, reader is described as short oops, SFW

Wordcount: 1.6k (it was supposed to be a Drabble... oops)

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

“You rarely visit these days.”

His mothers words still echo in his mind as he tries to find a new composition on his piano that doesn’t sound like everything he’s already put out. Of course he hasn’t visited- with his brother’s twins constantly around, he’s always reminded of how far ahead everyone around him is, while he’s yet to find his first real love. He’s thirty, for god’s sake- and yet all he has is his house, a stable career as a musician, and a lot on his mind.

All his friends are married. Some have kids, others are busy preparing for the day they’ll have them. He feels out of place.

Yoongi has made peace with the fact that he’ll be the uncle to all of them, the one guy who never really seems to be happy about anything, never has a family of his own. It’s alright.

He sighs, loudly, gripping his hair for a second in frustration. This is stupid- why is he having an artist’s block right now of all times? People are waiting for something new, especially after he’s already taken a break to help his creativity. And yet, it did nothing- except for giving him a little bit more room to breathe and most of all move out of his apartment and into his new house near the woods. It’s nice here- about half an hour away from the bustling neon city he’s used to after years of living there, and also a bit more distance from his family and friends. A newfound excuse for when they ask him once more where he’s been.

The doorbell rings, attracting his attention. He’s not awaiting any guests or packages- who could it be?

Via the camera installed he can see that there’s a person he doesn’t know at the door- you're rather short, but visibly curious, looking around for any signs of life inside his home, and for a short moment, he sees them;

Delicate little slightly translucent wings. Pointy ears, tilted a bit downwards.

A fairy.

As he opens the door, you seem startled for a second or two, taking a step back, before you speak. “Oh, hello!” You greet him. “I was just about to ask- do you have uh.. Jungkook’s number?” You wonder, and he becomes hostile, crossing his arms. “A coworker of mine, Jimin, said you have it. I’m sorry I’m just, you know, showing up here like that-”

The door closes. But despite what he was expecting, you just ring the doorbell again- and again, until he opens.

“Okay, as I was trying to explain before you so rudely interrupted me-” You tease a little, arms now crossed as well as your wings flap around a bit. “-tell him at least that I need his help fixing my washing machine. He broke it and left the crime scene for me to find, and that’s, pardon my language-” You lean in a bit as if you’re about to tell Yoongi something secret, “-pretty crappy behavior.”

Yoongi stares you down for a moment, before he speaks.

“That’s it?” He asks, and you nod. “Why don’t you ask Jimin for Jungkook’s number?” He wonders, not entirely convinced. Jungkook is pretty much a magnet for people no matter what gender, and the worst part about it is that many if not most always try and get to him through Yoongi.

No one’s ever interested in him. Only his friends, or the things he can provide.

“Cause Jimin doesn’t have it either!” You whine, stomping your leg on the ground in agony. “Listen, I don’t know how to fix it and my bathroom smells like a laundromat already, my coffee machine is also broken and my script has been rejected for the third time, I really need some good news. Please?” You ask, and Yoongi contemplates.

“What if I fix it?” He asks, and your eyes begin to sparkle, wings lifting to flutter in excitement. It’s like in this very moment, he can hear the keys of his piano chime, creating a new piece in his mind.

“You can?!” You ask, stepping closer.

“Probably. Where do you even live?” He asks, before you point towards the woods.

“I live in the woods, pretty much. It’s not that far.” You say, and Yoongi sighs, looking back inside his house. It’s not like he’s going to get anything done either way, so who cares? It might take his mind off of things for a moment or two-

So a few hours later, he’s in your house, enjoying some hot coffee from your machine, which he’d fixed as well while he was at it. Well, fixed is a strong word- he pretty much just explained how it properly worked to you. It was working just fine- you just lost the manual and couldn’t figure it out on your own.

“I always thought dragons were scarier.” You say suddenly, opening a pack of cookies to put in the middle of your wooden coffee table. “You’re really nice. Tall, and a bit gloomy looking, but very nice.” You say, sitting down on the couch next to him, legs pulled up towards you.

He’s noticed something glittering all over the small house- like sparkling glitter, but much finer, and barely noticeable. Looking closer to his pants, he notices it there as well- and even after a brush with his hand, it sticks to his fingers now.

“Oh- I’m sorry! It keeps getting everywhere, especially now.. Wait- I have like, a plastic thing-” You hurry, getting up to search for something in a drawer close by your TV. “Ah, there!” You say, giving him the lint-roller. “It’s one designed for fairy dust. I’m sorry, I should’ve thought about that..” You say, but for some odd reason, he declines.

“It’s fine.” He denies. “Doesn’t bother me.” he tells you, and again, you look at him like he’s just told you the earth is flat after all.

but it truly doesn’t bother him. It would, technically, if he was anywhere else. But right now, in this moment, he couldn’t be any more indifferent towards the ‘mess’ you leave sticking to his clothes and skin.

As soon as he’s back home, the sight of your sparkling smile is still in his mind, as his feet almost automatically move towards his piano, where he sits down, and presses a record button to play something new. The melody has been stuck on repeat in his head the entire way back home through the thick snow, like his imagination was finally finding color again.

But it’s different from what he usually creates.

This piece is playful almost, intriguing. It’s a little hesitant, like someone holding back a thought itself just to not indulge too much in a fantasy they’re already creating in their mind. Fluttering notes interrupt these parts however, sneaking in with excitement and curiosity, trying their best to convince the player to let themselves go.

And Yoongi does, as he finishes the piece, and leans back in his chair, recording finished before his phone chimes with a message.

“You left your scarf at my place!” Is what you tell him.

“I’ll get it tomorrow.” He texts you back.

“I could make us dinner?” You question.

He contemplates, finger hovering over the virtual keyboard of his phone, before he begins to write his answer. Fluttering touches of his fingers moving with a hint of excitement, fine fairy dust on the skin of his hands shimmering in the setting sun dipping everything in a golden glow.

“I’d love that.”

[prettypinkporkchop]

Oh my god, they were roommates

Vessel x fem reader

Description: he's annoyed by you. You learn how he really feels.

Warnings: semi sexual?, making out, cursing, mentions of blood, angst, fluff

"Blah, blah, blah. Always bitching about something." Ves smiles at you from his bed.

"Just fix the fucking washing machine." You roll your eyes.

"You do it." He retorts.

You fold your arms and lean on his doorframe. "You know I don't know how."

"Stop breaking it, then. It doesn't need that much detergent." He growls and stands up, pushing past you.

"Blah, blah, blah. Always bitching about something." You bite back.

God, being his roommate, can be so challenging. He's nice when he wants to be. Yes, granted, you don't know how to do a lot of the things that he can. For example, change a tire, fix appliances, and you're JUST a GIRL. You've known him and the band for a couple of years now through your friend, ii. You know their faces, and you didn't know they were sleep token until you had to share a place with Ves. You have vowed to keep their secret. Oh yes, Ves is sexy as fuck. You have always thought that, but he can't stand you because of your girly personality.

You sit in the living room, waiting on him to finish. You hear rummaging in the laundry room. Then, a loud noise, "Shit!"

You scramble to your feet and make your way to him. You see him against the wall with a gigantic gash in his hand. Blood is pouring. "Ves!" You stand in front of him and take his wrist.

"UGH, I got my hand caught in the back of it." He doesn't fight your touch to his wrist.

"Damn it. Let me help you." You take his arm and start to walk him toward the bathroom.

He jerks himself from you. "I'm fine. I don't need any help. But we need a new washing machine." He swallows and looks down at you.

You huff and look at the ground in guilt. He hurt his hand because of your mistake. This is the second time it has broken. "Can I please help you?" You look up at him, a lump in your throat.

He notices how upset you look. He nods his head. "Yeah." He walks into the bathroom where you guys keep the medicines and stuff. He sits on the edge of the bathtub.

You open the mirror and dig around. "Is it deep enough for stitches?" You grab the peroxide.

"No. Not even close." He chuckles.

You sit on the ground in between his legs. You take his hand and hold a washcloth under it. You pour the peroxide to clean it up. The blood washes down, and you see it's deep but not too bad. He watches your every move. He notices how gentle you are. You spread some gel stuff on it and wrap it up. You stand up and put away the material. Vessel sits there and squeezes his hand.

"Thank you." You hear him say.

You turn and face him. "I'm sorry for being a shit roommate." You reply.

"You're not." He says sternly. "Plus, the washing machine needed to be replaced anyway." He smiles.

"Yeah.. I'll buy it." You walk out of the bathroom and go in your room. You plop on your bed and try to forget about how guilty you feel.

---

"Good morning!" A booming voice wakes you up. "It's approximately twelve in the afternoon, and it's show time!"

You look to see a snickering Ivy holding a megaphone. "What the fuck, bro?" You groan.

"Just wanted to let you know he'll be gone and that we'll be at a show." He smiles.

"Alright. Good luck to you guys!" You yawn and smile.

"You want to come with?" He speaks through the megaphone again.

You cringe. "I will if you stop using that thing."

You get ready and get in the van with the band. iii is driving. Vessel is sitting in the passenger seat while you and the other two are in the back, hanging on for dear life.

"Yo, Ves. What happened to your hand?" ii looks over the seat.

"I got it stuck trying to fix the washing machine." He replies.

You look down at your hands, feeling stupid and guilty again. You feel ii nudge into you.

"What's wrong?" He asks quietly. If anyone in this band knows you, it's him. He's known you as a friend for the longest.

Should you confess? He keeps secrets. You know he won't tell. You know! But you're too scared. "I feel bad because I broke it." You whisper.

He gently pats your back. "You're all good, hon. Don't beat yourself up. He's a smart guy. He can handle a bit of pain, too. Kinky motherfucker." He jokes to make you feel better.

You laugh a little bit at what he said.

You guys make it to the place where they're performing. You sit backstage on the couch, scrolling through your phone. The guys are in their rooms getting ready. You can hear their loud ass laughter. They're being rowdy. They get like this before shows. A bunch of boys, lol.

"Y/n! I need your help!" You hear ii call out.

"Lord. Coming!" You call out. You walk through the hall and find the door with his name on it. You enter the room and see he's trying to put his hair on right with the band of the mask behind his hand.

"I'm struggling. I need to look hot for the boys and girls out there." He snorts.

You shake your head and walk up behind him. "Stupid." You mutter and put the band where it goes. You ruffle his hair on the top like he usually has it. "Where's Ivy to help you out?" You ask.

"Kissing iii." He jokes. "Nerds."

You finish what he needed and you pat his shoulder. "Aight. Kill it like usual." You step out of the room.

You look down the hall and see Vessel... in his alter ego.. slowly walking towards you. (GIF above). He's not talking. He's walking closer and closer. You back up slowly. But he's still stepping forward like you're prey. Your heart speeds up. You back up until you're against a wall. His hands move up next to your head, holding him up. His face towers to yours. His white mask is close. You can almost see his eyes through the small hole.

"My hand feels better." He smiles.

"Ves! We are on!" He leaves you.

You're stuck in place as he walks away.

---

You look at the message you just sent ii. Your heart is beating out of your chest.

I can't deny the feelings I have for Vessel anymore. I need him.

You're sitting in your bed, thinking about what went down backstage a week ago. He's been acting like nothing happened. Like everything is normal. Your phone goes off and you see his response.

I can promise you, the guy is a sucker for you.

There's a knock on your door.

"Yup!"

Ves opens it and looks at you. "I did the dishes." He says.

"Congrats? I do it all of the time." You try to act like what happened didn't. You're trying to act like you don't have feelings for him. Just trying to keep things normal.

He scoffs. "Well, I did you a favor because it was your turn." He rolls his eyes.

You just realized that you had forgotten it was your turn. Here comes the guilt. "I'm sorry, ves. Let me do your laundry in return." You sit on the side of your bed, looking at him.

"It's not a big deal." He waves you off and leaves your room.

You sigh, and you can't take it anymore. You get off of your bed and follow behind him. "So, what happened that day?"

He stops and turns around to face you. "What day?" He smirks.

"Don't act dumb." You look down at the small scar on his hand.

He steps closer, reenacting what he did backstage. "Do you mean when you came out of ii's room? I got pissed." He laughs.

You scoff and cross your arms. "He's just a friend, and you know that. No romantic feelings on either side."

He walks slowly in front of you again. You back against the wall, and he towers over you. His hands on the wall above your head. "He told me." He whispers.

"Why'd you a-ask him?" You're nervous.

"You push every button I have. You piss me off in such a good way. It turns me on. Yet, you're still sweet to me." His hand runs along your cheek. "You're like gentle waters, and I'm the sharp rocks in it." His hand on your cheek moves to your hair. He tangles his fingers in your scalp. "I had to see if you felt the same way. By the way you reacted, I knew I have you in the palm of my hand."

You're stuck in place. In awe. The way his lips move. His eyes scan your features. You can smell his cologne. You are intoxicated on Ves. Your heart is jumping. You have butterflies in your stomach. Your head is fuzzy. Your knees are trying not to give out.

"You're trembling, beautiful." He smirks at you. His lowers his mouth, hovering over your lips. "Fucking show me how much you've been holding back." He growls.

You smash your lips on his, kissing him with passion and hunger. He kisses you back with the same energy, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth a few times. You moan into him, making him push his body harder into yours. He grabs your hands, entangling your fingers and holding them against the wall. He moves his thigh up, pressing his knee gently against you.

You pull away. "Ves?" you gasp as he kisses down your neck, biting your skin.

"Hm?" He asks.

Sudden anger forms in your stomach. How he has been treating you, saying you annoy him but then trying to fuck you. Now, you realize this, and you feel stupid. "Get off." You say.

He instantly stops and backs away from you. "I'm sorry." He says.

"Why're you doing this when you hate me?" You ask.

He laughs, throwing his head back a bit. This makes you even angrier. Now, you've had it. He's making you feel so stupid and vulnerable. You lift your hand up and try to smack him.

His hand grabs your wrist before you can. He looks you dead in the eyes. "You're so oblivious." He smiles, not letting go of your wrist. You squirm a bit. "I'm in love with you. Have I not made that obvious?" He finally let's you go.

You look up at him and growl. "You have a seriously messed up way of showing that."

"Who picked you up a whole state away when your tire was flat? Who gave you a place to stay when you moved here from home? Who fixes everything when you need it? When we are out at night with the guys, who gives you a jacket when you're shivering? Who makes you soup and tea when you're sick?" His voice is a bit loud, he looks so into his speech. His hand is held out and he's breathing hard.

You are taken aback. You realize everything you've ever needed. He's been there. He never hesitates to make sure you're okay.

"Most importantly," he steps forward, "Who's the one that makes my heart stop when she looks at me?"

"Now I feel bad.." You whisper.

"Don't. I would do it all again. I will do it forever." He smiles and bites the inside of his bottom lip.

"But I've done nothing for you.." You croak.

"Oh, yes, you have. You're so sweet to me. You take care of me. I feel honored every single time you ask for my help. And you make me feel alive." He takes both of your hands in his.

You smile and shed a tear.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Habits 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Andy Barber, Cole Turner (Professor AU)

Summary: your life is thrown into chaos after a night out goes awry.

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all.

The incessant beeping stabs at your brain. Goddamn. You must have left your alarm on!

Your head swims at the thought of moving but you can’t listen to that anymore. You flail your arm out, goosebumps rising in the cold air, as your hand catches on something. 

“Ermph,” you grumble at the bite on the back of your hand. 

You open your eyes bur just as quickly close them. No. You shudder and peek out through the slits of your eyelids. It’s bright. Too bright. Oh shit. 

You make yourself look completely. There’s an IV inserted in the back of your hand, the beeping from another machine at your bedside. Your throat is raw and your mouth tastes funky. Every inch of you hurts. 

No. It can’t be real. You’re in a hospital. You stare at the ceiling and try to remember last night. The lights, the music, the crush of bodies... 

Damn it, Mercedes, that pill definitely doesn’t mix with alcohol.  

You sit and wait, unsure of what else to do. The nurse comes to check on you. She asks you basic, rigid questions. There’s little empathy in her touch or ‘how are you feeling?’ She explains that you were brought in with alcohol poisoning. 

After checking your reflexes, your blood pressures, and heartbeat, she detaches you from the IV. She suggests you stay hydrates and not to kindly says to avoid alcohol. She tells you you’re cleared to go and leaves. 

You’re embarrassed. You can’t believe it got to this. You always said you would never get that bad. Worse, you’re all alone. Mercedes isn’t here. You wonder if she even knows what happened. What if you hadn’t been brought to the hospital? What then? 

You walk out in your mini skirt and the hospital gown. Your shirt is completely missing. You have only your purse and clunky heels, both of which stink. 

As you sit on the bus, you want to cry. Your loneliness sets in. And reality. You could’ve died and it would’ve been all alone in that hospital room. Aside from that, you wouldn’t have even known. It all just would’ve been gone. 

You get off at campus and keep your head down. You wind around Greek Row and enter the dorm building. You climb the stairs with an effort as your stomach lurches. There’s a hot pain inside of you that just won’t go away. 

By the time you get into your dorm, you’re nauseous. You’re too empty to vomit. You dump your things in your room and tie on your fluffy robe. You go to get a glass of water. You need coffee but not that instant acid you keep in your cupboard. 

It’s early. Too early for Mercedes. You don’t even know if you could face her. You’re angry and yet it isn’t your fault. You vaguely remember the bartender telling you to stop. Then it’s all muddy. 

You finish the water and get in the show. You can wash away the grime of sweat, alcohol, and other things you don’t want to name, but the same lingers. You can’t blame anyone but yourself. It’s not like you didn’t have a million warnings. 

As you get to your room, you hear your phone buzzing. You sit on the bed and pluck it out of your purse. Shit. It’s your mother. And, you remember, your emergency contact. 

You answer on speaker. 

“Mom--” 

“What the fuck is this!? I wake up to a goddamn voicemail from a hospital?! Are you insane?” She shrieks. “Coral. You are so fucking lucky I’m not driving down there right now. Is this what you’re doing with your fucking life? When I'm paying for you to get an education! When I have to work in two hours just to pay for your fucking party nights?!” 

You sit and shrink down as you take in her furor. You just stare at the phone. You deserve this but it’s also not unusual. Your mother only ever communicates in wails and roars. 

“I would say I can’t believe you but you’ve always been a fuck up,” she barks. “Get your shit together, girly, or it’s over. Got it?” You hear her huffing and puffing angrily. You cower instinctively, even though she can’t hit you through the phone. “Don’t fucking call me.” 

She hangs up before you can even try to apologise. The sorrys and tears only ever made her worse. You drop your phone and cradle your head. 

You have class. Not until noon. You planned it well. You could go out, get lit, and have enough steam to make it through the week one snooze fest. Nope. You’re not getting any sleep. 

You get dressed; a cropped sweatshirt and leggings, and pack up your knapsack. You’ll go get a coffee and something light. Crackers or whatever. Anything more and you might dissolve into the mess you are. 

As you walk across campus, you try to think. It’s so weird. You remember patches of last night but nothing connects. And there’s something that’s missing. You don’t know what but it tugs at your brain. There was something else... 

The cafeteria is closed but the cafe is open. You get your coffee and a plain bun. The cashier looked at you oddly as you asked for a breakfast sandwich with no fillings. You sit and nibble as you stare blindly across the empty tables. 

God, you feel hollow. Like you’ve been gutted.  

What do you do now? Where do you go? Is this the point when you change? When you hunker down and live a boring life? That sounds awful. Is that what it means to grow up? You have to live with your head in books and drag yourself through every dull day. 

You don’t want to be your mother. You don’t want to be angry and resentful because you ended up in a dead-end office with an asshole boss. Well, if you’re not going to that, maybe it is time you got your head on straight. If you’re going to be a PR lawyer, you can’t be waking up in a hospital bed with a pumped stomach. 

And you’re going to need to get some new friends. 

[flowerchild28]

Hi!!! Can you do Louis Tomlinson x reader where reader has a little health scare and Louis gets really worried and concerned but everything turns out alright in the end? Tysm!!!

Sure let me know if you like it :)

In sickness and in health

Louis Tomlinson imagine

Warnings: angst

1.7k

The day started like any other, with you and Louis wrapped up in the comfort of your shared routines. He was in the kitchen, humming a tune as he flipped pancakes, while you lounged on the couch with your favorite blanket. It felt like a perfect morning, the kind where everything was cozy and warm. But as the minutes ticked by, a strange sensation settled in your chest—a tightness that was hard to ignore.

You shifted, hoping it would go away. Maybe it was just indigestion or a bad angle. But the discomfort grew sharper, spreading to your shoulder. Your breath came a little shorter, and an unsteady wave of dizziness washed over you.

“Lou?” you called, trying to keep your voice steady.

He popped his head out from the kitchen, spatula in hand, his boyish grin fading the moment he saw your face. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, pressing a hand to your chest. “I feel... weird. Like, my chest feels tight, and I’m a little dizzy.”

Louis was at your side in an instant, his eyes wide with concern. “Tight how? Like you’re struggling to breathe?” His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing soothing circles as he searched your face for answers.

“Not exactly, but it doesn’t feel right,” you said, trying to downplay the growing fear in your voice. “It’s probably nothing—”

“It’s not nothing,” Louis interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “We’re going to the hospital. No arguments.”

You started to protest, but the look in his eyes stopped you. He wasn’t taking any chances, and deep down, you knew he was right.

The ride to the hospital was a blur. Louis drove with one hand on the wheel and the other gripping yours tightly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a steady rhythm. He kept glancing at you, his jaw tight, worry etched into every line of his face.

“I’m sure it’s nothing serious,” you murmured, trying to reassure him.

“Don’t do that,” he said, his voice strained. “Don’t act like this doesn’t scare you, because it scares the hell out of me.”

Your heart clenched, not from pain but from the raw emotion in his voice. Louis wasn’t usually the type to let his fear show, but this—seeing you like this—had him unraveling.

“Okay,” you said softly, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m scared too.”

He nodded, his grip tightening as he whispered, “We’ll get through this. Together.”

At the hospital, everything moved quickly. Nurses ushered you into a room, attaching monitors and asking questions while Louis hovered nearby, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He tried to stay calm, but every beep of the machines seemed to make him flinch.

“I’m going to run some tests,” the doctor explained. “It could be something minor, but we want to rule out anything serious like a heart issue.”

Louis paled at the word “heart.” You reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be fine,” you whispered, even as your own nerves threatened to overwhelm you.

He nodded, but the worry in his eyes didn’t waver. “I’ll be right here,” he promised.

As the doctor and nurses left the room, Louis dragged a chair over to sit beside you. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie, his knee bouncing nervously. “Do you feel any better?” he asked quietly.

“A little,” you said, though the truth was hard to tell. The tightness in your chest had eased, but the anxiety of being here kept your heart racing. “It’s probably just stress, Lou. I’ve been so busy lately, and—”

“Stop,” he said gently but firmly. His hand found yours, grounding you. “Don’t downplay this. You scared me back there, love. I thought...” He trailed off, his voice cracking slightly. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” you whispered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I promise.”

He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “You’d better not. I’m not sure I’d survive it.”

The tests seemed to take forever. Bloodwork, an EKG, and even a chest X-ray—all the while, Louis stayed glued to your side. He offered you water, adjusted your blanket, and even tried to crack a joke or two to lighten the mood.

“You know,” he said with a small smile, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this terrified in my life. And that’s saying something, considering the fans once locked me in a bathroom during a meet-and-greet.”

You chuckled despite yourself, the memory of that story enough to momentarily distract you. “I remember that. You said they were apologetic, but only after you promised selfies with all of them.”

“Still traumatized,” he said with a mock shudder, earning another laugh from you.

For a moment, the tension eased. But then a nurse entered with a clipboard, and the worry came flooding back.

“The doctor will be in soon to go over your results,” she said kindly. Louis thanked her, but his grip on your hand tightened.

“Whatever happens, I’m here,” he said softly, his eyes locked on yours.

When the doctor finally returned, his expression was calm and reassuring.

“Well, the good news is that it’s not your heart,” he said, glancing between you and Louis. “It looks like you had a combination of acid reflux and a bit of stress, which can mimic chest pain and dizziness. It’s nothing serious, but I’m going to prescribe some medication to help with the reflux. And I’d recommend taking it easy for a bit.”

Louis let out a breath you hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his shoulders slumping with relief. “So... she’s going to be okay?”

“Absolutely,” the doctor assured him. “But listen to your body, Y/N. If anything feels off again, don’t hesitate to come back.”

You nodded, relief flooding through you. Louis thanked the doctor a dozen times before the two of you were finally discharged.

Back at home, Louis couldn’t seem to let you out of his sight. He hovered around you, fluffing pillows, offering tea, and insisting you relax while he took care of everything.

“Seriously, Lou,” you said with a laugh as he brought over a bowl of soup. “I’m fine. You don’t have to wait on me hand and foot.”

“Yes, I do,” he insisted, setting the bowl on the coffee table. “I nearly had a heart attack today, so if I want to fuss, let me fuss.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “You’re overreacting.”

“Am I?” he countered, arching a brow. “Because I spent the entire day thinking about what my life would look like without you, and I can tell you right now, it’s not a picture I ever want to see.”

Your teasing smile faded, replaced by a wave of emotion. “Louis...”

“I mean it,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he sat beside you. “You’re everything to me, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you reached for his hand. “You’re not going to lose me. I promise. And thank you—for taking care of me, for staying calm even when I wasn’t.”

He chuckled, though it was tinged with lingering worry. “Staying calm is a stretch. Pretty sure I aged ten years today.”

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “You handled it perfectly. You always do.”

As the evening wore on, Louis gradually relaxed, though he still checked on you every five minutes. At one point, he disappeared into the kitchen, emerging with two mugs of tea and a sheepish grin.

“I Googled foods that help with acid reflux,” he admitted, handing you a mug. “Apparently chamomile is good for it.”

You laughed softly, touched by the effort. “Thank you, Dr. Tomlinson.”

“Anytime,” he said, settling beside you on the couch.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, the only sound the soft patter of rain against the windows. Louis’ arm draped around your shoulders, pulling you close, and you felt a sense of peace that had been missing all day.

“You know,” you said after a while, “if today taught me anything, it’s that I need to slow down. I’ve been pushing myself too hard, and it’s not worth it if it means scaring the life out of you.”

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering. “As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters. But yeah, maybe take a breather once in a while. Let me spoil you for a change.”

“I think I could get used to that,” you teased, tilting your head to look at him.

Louis grinned, his blue eyes sparkling with affection. “Good. Because I’m not letting you lift a finger for at least a week.”

[joelmillerisapunk]

Girl Next Door

Neighbor!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 3,646

Summary: Joel finds himself overwhelmed by the desire to possess something that belongs to you, leading him to indulge in a secret fantasy.

~Or~

What Odette dreams about

Warnings: 18+, mentions of Tommy being in jail, underwear/ underwear sniffing kink? Unprotected bathroom bar sex, hair pulling, no physical description of reader minus hair being pullable, oral - m!receiving

Notes: NERVOUS AS ALL HECK TO POST THIS AS MY FIRST FIC IN A MINUTE. didn't know I had this kink until I had a similar dream, so don't look at me, but also, if anyone else likes this, please let's talk so I don't feel weird 😂 thanks as always @saradika-graphics for the divider

Joel is restless as he mindlessly tosses his clothes into the washing machine in the shared laundry room of his apartment complex. He can't stop thinking about the woman he saw moving in across the hall. There's just something about her that captivated him, and he can't shake her from his mind.

As he goes to add the detergent to the machine, he notices a basket of laundry sitting next to his. His eyes scan over the pile of clothes until they land on a pair of lacy panties. A thrill run through him as he realises that they were hers - yours.

The ones he saw when he was watching you move boxes, the ones he watched appear when you bent over and your shirt exposed the small of your back.

And before he can talk himself out of it, he quickly grabs the panties, stuffing them into his pocket. He turns around just in time to see you walking into the laundry room.

"Oh, hey there," you say with a friendly smile. "I didn't realize anyone else was using the machines right now."

Joel feels his face flush with embarrassment as he stutters out a response. "Uh, yeah, was just finishin' up."

You chuckle softly. "Well, don't let me interrupt you. I just need to switch my load over to the dryer."

As you bend down to transfer your clothes, Joel can't help but steal a glance at your body. He feels a stirring in his pants, and he quickly looks away, hoping you don't notice.

When you straighten up, you catch him looking and raise an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

Joel feels his face grow even hotter. "Uh, yeah, sorry. I just got a little distracted."

You smile knowingly. "Well, I hope it was a good distraction.”

You make small talk as you wait for your laundry to finish, and Joel finds himself even more drawn to you.

As you’re about to leave, you turn to him. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what is it darlin?"

"Well, I seem to have misplaced a pair of my favorite underwear. I was wondering if you might have seen them around here?"

Joel's mind races as he tries to think of a response. He can't very well admit that he had taken them, could he?

"Uh, no, I haven't seen them," he stammers, hoping you don't notice the lie.

You look disappointed. "Oh, well, thanks anyway. I guess I'll just have to buy a new pair." And with that, you're gone. Shortly after, he gathers his things and leaves.

As soon as he’s outside the room, Joel lets out a sigh of relief. The adrenaline rush from stealing your underwear sends shivers down his spine. He can’t believe how easy that was. This is definitely the highest he's ever felt.

But as he walks away, a wave of guilt washes over him. What kind of sick fuck gets off on stealing women's underwear? He knows how wrong it is, but damn if it doesn't turn him on like nothing else ever could.

He walks aimlessly for a while, trying to distract himself from the thoughts in his head. But every time he thinks about those lacy panties clinging to his thigh, he feels his cock throb.

He needs to do something with them. He needs to feel them against his skin, to smell them, to touch them. But what? Should he hide them away in a drawer? Or should he just keep them nearby for whenever the urge struck?

Joel hesitates for a moment before finally making up his mind.

As he walks back into his apartment, he can’t help but imagine what it would be like to feel those panties on his body. The idea of feeling your softness against his skin makes his cock throb even harder.

Joel decides to try and sleep it off. Maybe by morning, the urge would pass, and he would be able to put this whole thing behind him.

He walks toward his bedroom and strips off his clothes before he climbs into bed. But try as he might, sleep eludes him. The urge to grab those panties and explore them with his tongue is too strong to ignore. He continues to shift restlessly in bed until finally giving in to temptation. He reaches down grabbing the soft fabric from his jeans wrapping one hand around his hard cock and using the other hand to bring the fabric up to his nose and inhales deeply.

Joel's hand moves up and down his shaft, stroking with a rhythm that he knows will bring him to climax in no time. He focuses on the sensation of his own hand, the softness of you on the lace, letting out a low moan as he feels himself getting closer to the edge.

But then, just as he's about to come, Joel hesitates. What if you found out? The thought makes him pause, making him wonder if it’s worth the risk. He decides to take a break for now. Throwing the panties to the floor, he lays there for a few moments, trying to catch his breath. But then he can't resist. The urge takes over slowly and then, all at once, crashing over him like a tidal wave about to suffocate him. Joel picks up the panties one more time and brings them close to his face, inhaling deeply.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath as he licks them slowly, savoring their scent. He runs his tongue over every inch of fabric before finally taking them into his mouth, sucking on them hungrily. "You taste so sweet baby."

He stops to hold the panties in front of his face, admiring their form, admiring the cut and color. He imagines how it would taste if he were to lick your pretty lips and your pretty little clit, imagining how it would taste when he slips his fingers inside you as you’re making a mess all over his face. It almost makes him come right then.

He moans softly as he imagines all the things he would be doing to you once he gets you alone. How you would feel wrapped around his cock, moaning as he pushes into you. His eyes light up as he envisions how you would feel, naked against him, begging and whimpering as he fucks you. He knows the perfect way to drive you insane; torturing you for pleasure before finally plunging into you, making you scream his name, begging daddy for his big cock. He pictures you writhing and crying underneath him as his seed spills all over your soft skin, filling the air with the musky scent of sex.

His fantasy is interrupted, however, as his phone rings, shattering the illusion of the forbidden paradise his imagination created. Joel groans in frustration, reluctantly answering it.

"Ya?" He demands, his voice rough with need and lust, not bothering to ask who it is.

"Hey, big brother. It's me." it was Tommy, and Joel could only guess what this was about. Tommy had seen himself in jail, his fair share these past few years, and Joel was tired of bailing him out.

"Tommy, I swear to god -" Joel starts, ready cuss out his brother and give him the old "I'm gonna kick your ass..." spiel, but Tommy cuts him off.

"I know what you're gonna say. You're gonna kick my ass. But it wasn't my fault this time. The guy had it comin. He was gonna hurt her. I was just tryin' to help. You gotta respect that, Mr. Southern gentleman himself." Tommy says, sounding sincere enough for Joel to believe him. He relaxes slightly. Tommy never did anything particularly bad, but he always manages to get himself in trouble somehow. Even as kids, he was always bailing Tommy out.

Joel rolls his eyes. “That's what you said the last time. I'm gonna kick your damn ass Tommy. I should leave ya in there."

"Alright, alright, look man-"

"What? Make it good, or I'm goin’ back to bed." Joel says impatiently.

"You bail me out this one last time, and I'll buy you the next round'a beer." Tommy bargains.

Joel can't help but laugh at his brother's proposal. "You're really tryin’ to bribe me with beer, huh? Fine, I'll bail you out one last time. But you better not fuck this up, Tommy, you ain’t gettin' another chance." Joel warns.

"Thanks, Joel. I won't let you down this time, I promise - promise on our mamma," Tommy replies, sounding genuinely grateful.

Joel sighs and hangs up the phone, shaking his head. He can't believe he was letting his brother talk him into this again.

But as he gets dressed and heads out to bail his brother out of jail, Joel can’t shake off the feeling of excitement that still lingers from his earlier encounter. The memory of those lacy panties, the scent of you on his fingers, the taste of you on his tongue - all of it is still fresh in his mind.

As he drives, Joel's mind starts to wander. He can't stop thinking about you, about the way you probably look in those silky panties, the way you feel and taste. He feels himself getting hard again just thinking about it. There’s something about you that draws him in, something that makes him want to possess you, to make you his own.

With one hand on the wheel, his free hand pulls out the underwear from his pocket, his hand shaking with desire as he holds the lacy panties up.

He lets out a low moan, his cock already rock hard in his pants and without thinking, he begins to rub himself through the fabric, imagining it’s your hand on him instead.

The sensation is overwhelming, and Joel can feel himself on the brink of climax almost immediately. He tries to hold back to savor the moment, but it’s no use. Within seconds, he’s coming hard, staining his jeans with his own release.

Panicked, he starts feeling around his truck for something to cover up the stain on his pants. He rummages through the glove compartment and the back seat before finally finding an old sweater that Tommy had left behind on a previous visit.

Joel quickly places the sweater over his bulge, hoping it would be enough to hide the stain.

When he arrives, he parks in the loading zone and jumps out of the truck, still trying to act casual while tying the sweater around his waist. But as he approaches the entrance, he can feel the eyes of the other visitors coming in on him, no doubt noticing the bulge in his pants and the sweater tied around his waist.

As he walks into the jail, his face flushes with embarrassment, and his mind still preoccupies with thoughts of you. He makes his way to the visitor's area, scanning the crowd for Tommy.

When he finally spots his brother sitting at a visitors table, looking bored and impatient, Joel approaches him, trying to act as casual as possible.

"Hey, Tommy," Joel says, as he sits across from him.

Tommy looks up and does a double-take when he sees the sweater tied around Joel's waist. "What the hell happened to you?" Tommy asks, with a smirk on his face.

Joel feels his face grow even hotter with embarrassment. "Nothin’, just spilled some coffee on my pants.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced.

Joel shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust the sweater tied around his waist. He can feel Tommy's eyes on him, still skeptical about the "coffee" stain.

"Sure thing, big brother. Whatever you say," Tommy says, chuckling to himself.

—

Joel and Tommy walk out of the jail, the weight of the situation heavy between them but still Joel can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over him as they step out into the cool night air. He had done his duty as an older brother once again, bailing Tommy out of a sticky situation.

As they make their way to Joel's truck, he can’t shake off the thoughts of you that have been consuming him all day. He wants you, needs you, in a way that he has never felt before.

Tommy notices Joel's distracted state and ribbs him about it. "Hey man, you got a girl on the brain or somethin’? You've been acting weird since you got here."

Joel hesitates for a moment, as much of a dumbass his kid brother is, he’s really all he’s got, "Uh - yeah, there’s this girl... Can't stop thinkin’ about her."

Tommy chuckles. "Well, maybe you should ask her out or somethin’. What's the worst that could happen?"

Joel shakes his head. "It's not that simple. I... I don't even know her name."

Tommy raises an eyebrow. "Well, where’d you meet her?"

Joel hesitates for a moment before admitting the truth. "I saw her move the other day across the way. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Just sat there starin’ for a bit, I just couldn't help myself.”

"Well, maybe you'll run into her again sometime. And this time, you can introduce yourself like a normal person."

Joel nods, feeling a glimmer of hope. Maybe Tommy was right. Maybe he would run into you again. And this time, he could do things differently.

—

The next evening, Joel finds himself at the bar down the street, hoping against hope that he might see you again, somewhere, somehow. He sits at the bar, nursing a beer and scanning the crowd for any sign of you.

As he sits there, he can't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. Has he been here before? It was like a fog had settled over his memory, making it difficult to recall the details.

And then, just as he's about to give up hope, he sees you walking towards the bar, your eyes scanning the crowd. And then, as if by some miracle, they land on him.

You smile, a shy, tentative smile that makes Joel's heart race. Joel can't help but feel a wave of nervousness wash over him as he sees you approaching him at the bar.

He's always been awkward around women, especially ones as beautiful as you. He tries to play it cool, taking a sip of his beer and glancing up at the TV, but his eyes keep flicking back to you.

"Hey there, cowboy," you say, a playful smile on your lips. "I haven't seen you around here before."

Joel feels a wave of nervousness wash over him, but he tries to hide it with a grin. "Oh, I'm just passin' through," he says, hoping he doesn't sound as awkward as he feels.

But you seem to be enjoying his discomfort, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, I'm glad you stopped by."

You lean against the bar, your body close to Joel's. He can feel the heat radiating off of you, and he finds himself struggling to focus on anything but you.

"So, cowboy, tell me what really brings you to this little dive bar?" You ask, your voice low and sultry.

Joel takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. "Just needed a break from the rodeo, I guess," he says, trying to play along.

You laugh, a loud, genuine laugh that makes Joel's heart skip a beat. "Well, I'm glad you found it. Maybe we can make each other's night a little more interesting."

Joel feels a thrill run through him at your words. He knows what you're suggesting, and he can't help but feel a surge of desire. "I'd like that darlin."

You lean in closer, your lips brushing against Joel's ear. "Follow me."

Joel follows you through the crowded bar, his heart racing with excitement. He can't believe what's happening, but he doesn't want it to stop.

You lead him to the bathroom, pushing open the door and pulling him inside. The room is small and dimly lit, but Joel can see the desire shining in your eyes.

You push him up against the wall, your body presses against his. Joel can feel your breath hot against his skin, and he finds himself struggling to breathe.

"I've wanted you since the moment I saw you."

Joel feels a surge of desire run through him. He's wanted you just as badly, and he can't believe this is finally happening. He reaches out, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, your tongues dancing together as you explore each other's mouths.

Joel's hands move down your body, sliding under your skirt and finding their way to your panties. He can feel the heat radiating off of you, and he knows you want him just as badly as he wants you.

He slides your panties down your legs, his fingers lingering for a moment before he lets them fall to the floor.

You break the kiss, your breath hot and heavy. "Take me."

Joel doesn't need to be told twicn.sbb

De. He helps you up onto the sink and your legs wrap around his waist as he slides inside of you.

You moan with pleasure, your head thrown back as Joel thrusts into you. The bathroom is small and cramped, but neither of you care. All that matters is the heat and the pleasure between you.

Joel can feel himself getting close, the pleasure building up inside of him. He knows he won't be able to hold back for much longer.

But just as he's about to reach his climax, you pull away, your body sliding down his.

"Not yet, cowboy," you say, a playful smile on your lips.

Joel watches as you sink to your knees in front of him, your eyes never leaving his. He feels a surge rush through him as you reach for his hard cock, you wrap your hand around it, stroking him slowly. Joel lets out a low moan as he feels your hand on him, the sensation almost too much to bear.

You lean in closer, your breath hot against his skin. He can feel your lips brushing against the tip of his cock, and he holds his breath in anticipation.

And then, finally, you take him into your mouth. Joel lets out another moan as he feels your lips around him, your tongue swirling around his cock. His thoughts are consumed with desire as he watches you pleasure him.

He reaches down, tangling his fingers in your hair as he begins to thrust his hips, fucking your mouth with a roughness that takes you by surprise. You moan around his cock, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. He can't believe how good it feels and how much he wants you.

He feels himself teetering on the edge, and he knows he's about to come. He pulls out of your mouth, your saliva glistening on his cock.

Without a word, he pulls you up and turns you around, bending you over the sink. He can see your face in the mirror, your eyes wide with desire and anticipation.

He slides inside of you, your wetness coating his cock as he begins to thrust. He can feel you clenching around him, your body trembling. Joel reaches around, his fingers finding your clit. He begins to rub slow circles, hearing you moan with pleasure as he hits the right spot.

He knows he won't be able to hold back much longer, and with one final thrust, he spills his seed deep inside of you, filling you up as you moan with pleasure.

Joel watches in the mirror as you come with him, your face flushed with pleasure, and your eyes glazed over with desire. He can't believe what just happened, but he knows one thing for sure - he needs more of you.

He pulls out of you and helps you to your feet. You lean into him, your body trembling with pleasure.

"Wow," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel chuckles, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over him. "Yeah, wow," he says, pulling you close for a kiss.

He helps you straighten your clothes, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment before he pulls away.

You reach down, picking up your panties from the floor. You hold them out to Joel, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"A souvenir," you wink.

Joel takes the panties, his heart racing with excitement.

You lean in, your fingers putting a pre-written note in his pocket, and your lips brush against his ear. "Call me, cowboy," you say, your voice low and sultry.

And then you're gone, leaving Joel alone in the bathroom with nothing but the memory of your body and the scent of your panties to remind him of what just happened. He can't believe what just happened, but he knows one thing for sure - he's never felt this alive before.

[callmedaleelah]

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— i have a lot of regrets about that ; you’ve been avoiding him since you cried in front of him and the way he hold you so close still lingering in your head you’re so embarrassed you need to study harder

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

It was late, and the campus was quiet, with only a few students still lingering around. The library, one of the few places that stayed open late, was dimly lit, and Tsukishima had just finished a study session of his own, the silence and solitude offering a rare moment of peace. As he stepped outside, his attention was drawn to a figure he recognized instantly.

You were just leaving the library, moving quickly as you answered a phone call. Tsukishima’s sharp eyes noticed the tension in your posture, the way you bit your lip and hurriedly tried to gather your things. He watched as you fumbled with your papers, dropping a pen and a few sheets to the floor in your haste. Among them, he spotted the familiar sight of your lab report, covered in his meticulous notes.

You didn’t even notice as you left them behind, too absorbed in your conversation to care. Tsukishima felt a strange pull to help, to return your belongings before they were lost or damaged. Without thinking, he walked over to pick them up, carefully gathering the scattered papers. As he straightened up, he noticed you standing by a vending machine outside, still on the phone.

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but your voice carried easily in the quiet night. The way you spoke, with a forced cheerfulness that didn’t match the anxiety in your expression, caught his attention.

“I was just studying with my friends at the library, Mom. We’re going to eat Korean barbecue now,” you said, your voice overly bright but betraying a hint of something else—maybe guilt.

Tsukishima knew you were lying. He hadn’t seen you with anyone else the entire time he was there. You had been alone, diligently working through your notes, trying to grasp concepts that clearly frustrated you.

“Did you do my suggestion to copy their notes and ask for their study references?” your mother’s voice was audible, even from where Tsukishima stood, her tone filled with concern.

“Yes, Mom. I did. Don’t worry about it,” you replied, the lie slipping out so easily that it almost hurt to hear.

Your mother’s voice softened slightly, but the pressure was still there, a constant undercurrent. “I’m just worried, sweetheart. You said you haven’t found anyone to partner up with in the lab. What if you fail the subject because you’re struggling to study alone? You have to keep up and match your friends' grades, you know.”

“Yes, Mom,” you said again, and Tsukishima could hear the sadness creeping into your voice, though you tried hard to hide it.

“Alright, don’t forget to take your tonic and all the vitamins every day. It’s good for your cognitive function and brain. You need to be doing everything you can to keep up with your classmates. I don’t want to hear about you falling behind.” she reminded you, her tone firm but loving.

“Yes, Mom. I get it,” you said, your voice quieter now, the energy drained from your earlier attempts to sound upbeat.

Tsukishima stood there, holding your scattered papers, his mind reeling from what he had just overheard. He had known you were struggling—anyone in the lab could see that—but this was different. The pressure from your family, the way you had to lie to keep them from worrying, it all added a new layer to the person he thought he knew.

The call ended, and you lowered your phone, letting out a sigh of relief mixed with frustration. When you finally looked up, you froze, seeing Tsukishima standing not far away, your lab report and papers in his hand. The embarrassment that washed over you was immediate, your cheeks flushing as you realized he had probably heard everything.

“You…” your voice faltered as you tried to find the right words, but none came. The weight of his gaze made you feel small, exposed in a way that had nothing to do with your usual lab mistakes.

Ever since that day in the lab when you broke down in tears, you’ve been avoiding Tsukishima like the plague. It wasn’t just because you wanted to study harder and avoid making mistakes in the lab—it was also because you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he hugged you, the way his voice softened in those moments when he tried to calm you down. The memory of it made your cheeks burn every time it crossed your mind, and the thought of facing him again after such an emotional outburst was too much to handle. You didn’t want to give him any more reasons to scold you, and more than that, you were embarrassed by how much he lingered in your thoughts.

Tsukishima, for his part, didn’t move closer. He just watched you, his expression unreadable, but there was a softness in his eyes that you had never seen before. “You dropped these,” he said simply, holding out the papers to you.

You swallowed hard, stepping forward to take them from him. “Thank you,” you mumbled, your eyes downcast, avoiding his gaze. The silence between you was heavy, filled with the unspoken truth that he knew more about your life now than you ever wanted him to.

“You lied to your mom,” he said bluntly, but there was no judgment in his tone, just a quiet observation.

You flinched at his words, gripping the papers tightly. “It’s… I didn’t want her to worry,” you explained, your voice barely above a whisper. “She thinks I’m doing fine. It’s easier that way.”

Tsukishima nodded slowly, his eyes not leaving your face. “It’s not easy, lying like that.”

You bit your lip, trying to keep the tears that threatened to spill over at bay. “No, it’s not,” you agreed, your voice trembling. “But what else can I do? She expects so much from me, and I… I don’t want to disappoint her.”

He was silent for a moment, taking in your words. Then, with a sigh, he finally spoke. “You can’t keep doing this, you know. It’s going to eat you up if you keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, surprised by the concern in his voice. “I don’t have a choice,” you said, your voice cracking slightly. “I have to keep going. I have to try, even if I’m not good at this.”

Tsukishima watched you, his expression softening further, though his voice remained firm. “You don’t have to do it alone,” he said, surprising you once more. “If you need help, ask for it. It doesn’t mean you’re weak or that you’re giving up.”

You blinked, stunned by his words. It was so different from the sharp, critical Tsukishima you were used to in the lab. “Why… why are you being so nice?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

He scoffed lightly, but there was no malice in it. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I just don’t want you to keep messing up the lab reports. It’s annoying,” he said, his usual gruffness returning, but there was a small, almost imperceptible smile on his lips.

Despite everything, you found yourself smiling back, a small, tentative curve of your lips. “Right. Of course,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though your heart felt lighter than it had in weeks.

The awkward silence returned, but this time it was different, less tense, more understanding. You nodded slightly, clutching your papers to your chest. “I should go,” you said, breaking the silence. “Thanks again for these.”

Tsukishima nodded, his eyes following you as you turned to leave. But before you could take more than a few steps, he called out, “Hey.”

You paused, looking back at him expectantly.

“Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice softer than before. “And don’t forget your vitamins.”

A laugh escaped you, surprising even yourself. “I won’t,” you promised, feeling a warmth in your chest that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back at him one last time. Tsukishima was still standing there, watching you go, his expression thoughtful. You didn’t know what to make of it, but for the first time since starting university, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t completely alone.

Your mind racing with everything that had just happened. Tsukishima’s unexpected concern, his words of advice—it was all too much to process. But one thing was clear: he was more than just the grumpy, perfectionist senior you had thought he was. Beneath that hard exterior, there was something else—something that made your heart beat a little faster when you thought about him.

[fcthots]

Hello!

I'm new to all this, I just downloaded tumblr a week ago, but I spent my entire day reading most of your posts!

I absolutely adore your personification of Jason, and was thinking, could you maybe write a little teeth rotting fluff fic about reader having a migrane and Jason just caring for them.

I'm projecting here because I've been sick for a week and I'm just thinking of big Jason Todd walking up to me, putting his hands on my neck and telling me I have a fever, then giving me tea and cuddling with me because he's like a Teddy bear and I need him 🫠

(Also, could I maybe get an emoji)

Thx so much! You're so talented with writing!!!!

I know this is like months late but i dub thee 🪅 bc i thinks its cool!! Anyway, thank you for the love 🥰

You fell asleep early the night before. You mostly ignored Jason's looks of concern and "are you sure you're ok?"s. You were fine. Just tired.

Until you woke up.

You don't immediately open your eyes. Your eyes and throat somewhat burned. Unusual. And now that you think about it, the rest of your body feels like it's freezing. Your head feels like it's tumbling stones in a washing machine and that doesn't even make sense, but you want to cry.

You try to open your eyes but the light from the window forces you to immediately close them. You're so cold, but your arms are too heavy to move. Your headache is pounding and you're freezing and you're whole body aches and a million other things. Thinking about it doesn't help and you can't help the pitiful sound that escapes you. It sounds more like a cry than anything else. You feel something move and the bed next to you and it makes you dizzy. For a moment, you can't register anything other than your discomfort.

The next thing you know, Jason is leaning over you. His hand rubs gentle circles over the small of your back.

"Shh. You're ok. You're alright."

You don't know how you forgot that Jason was here. Your head is just so fuzzy and everything hurts. Another whine escapes and you almost shed a tear at the nausea.

His other hand comes up to sweep your hair to the side. He presses his lips to your forehead on a chaste kiss. "Sugar, you're burning up." His warmth leaves you as you hear him move around the apartment. He can't have been gone for more than a minute, but you swear the noise the opening and closing of the cabinets lasts for hours.

You feel his lovely warmth back at your side soon enough. A hand slips underneath you and you think he's just going to keep rubbing your back, but the other hand goes to your waist and together they push you up and you think you might die. "Sit up for me. C'mon. There you go." His hands steal their warmth back and you'd curse them if you could, but in the next second a pill is being pressed to your lips. "Take this for me." You don't even have it in you to think of protesting. You take the pill in your mouth and then he presses a cool bottle to your lips. "We have to wash it down." You try to bring your hand up to help him but you're too weak to hold the drink up alone. "I gotcha. There you go." He takes the drink back and you mourn its absence, but that doesn't last long before his arms draw you close to his body. Your head rests against his stomach as he asks "are you cold?"

You make a sound that is supposed to be affirmative and he curses.

"Shit. I told you you were getting sick." Its aimed more at himself than you and even if you did want to object, you couldn't get the words out. "Do you think you could keep down something down?" You shake your head no against his stomach. "Ok. Can I make you something just in case?"

"Don' leave."

He sighs and runs his fingers through your hair.

[piftamere]

twelve - hello kitty bandages (wc : 600; cw : blood)

it’s late, he’s sitting on her washing machine, she’s standing between his legs. a pile of blood soaked tissue paper and cotton pads fills the bathroom sink. a spray bottle of disinfectant in hand, the kind that stings. every so often, he winces, and she mumbles some curse word under her breath. she’s not a fucking nurse, he’s an idiot, he should've went to a hospital, it fucking won’t stop bleeding…

he’s being as quiet as he can. things were weird between them since the other night, and what his friends told him has been silently haunting the back of his mind. but after running out of the locker room with a busted lip and blood dripping down his hand and face, he could only think of one place to go. that’s how he ended up here, and even if it hurts, he has no regrets.

she’s focused, biting her lower lip in concentration, and under the dim light coming through the curtains, she looks beautiful.

when she’s done, his face is covered in hello kitty bandages.

she comes back from the kitchen with a bag of frozen peas, holding out her hand. he places his bruised hand in hers.

she holds the bag a few inches away from his knuckles before speaking, “tell me what happened.”

he shakes his head. “you don’t need to know.”

her brows furrow, “don’t try to protect me.”

she’s holding up his gaze. she won’t give up until he explains.

he looks down at his hand. with a sigh, he whispers, “shion was talking shit.”

“about me?”

he nods, he still won’t look into her eyes. “you sure you wanna know?”

“i’m sure.”

“…he called you a slut. said you ‘begged for it’, he asked me if i ‘hit that yet’. i don’t remember what he said after that. i snapped. before i knew it, my fist was in his nose.”

he takes a quick look at her face, she’s lost in thought for a moment.

“thanks… i guess,” she mutters, as she sets the peas on his bruise. she stares in his eyes. she presses down hard on his hand, as if to emphasize her words. “but i’m not a damsel in distress. i don’t need you to defend my honor.”

“especially if you’re gonna get hurt.” she doesn’t say it, at least not with her words, but he reads it in her gaze. then again, maybe he only sees what he wants to see.

he winces, and with chuckle he whispers, “yeah i know.”

hesitantly he reaches for her hand and links his uninjured fingers with hers. his thumb draws soothing circles into her skin. her shoulders relax.

“i hope he looks worse than you.”

“oh trust me, he does.” he smiles, the tear in his lip threatening to bleed again, before continuing, “sorry i won’t look nice on our date tomorrow.”

she shifts her weight on her feet, “don���t worry about that.”

she inches forwards, wrapping her arms around his neck. he rests his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes. he places his hand on the small of her back, holding her closer.

he nuzzles his face into her hair, mumbling, “i should get going,” making no effort to move at all.

“and what? walk back to your place in this state?”

“someone can come pick me up.”

she insists, "did he hit you on the head? don't be an idiot. stay the night."

he chuckles, as he tightens his hold on her, the frozen peas falling on the ground. “okay.”

fun facts

atsumu was too upset about the loss to notice yn sneak away.

the bandages are yachi’s, it's all they had left.

yn's roommates went to celebrate the win but she wasn't in the mood to go with them.

atsumu and yn planned their date before the party and she was debating canceling it.

author's note

i really like this one :)

the men in this universe are lovely

play dumb! - next

taglist : open!

@alpha-mommy69 @bakugouswh0r3 @giocriedpower @itsdragonius @haechansbbg @wondipity @iaminyourfloors @na0koz @from-mae @eusaevi @kr1nqu @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @thechaosoflonging @littlemiyastars @seikamuzu @nymphsdomain @r4veeen @shesabeeler

if you're name is crossed out i couldn't tag you, if it's not fixed in a week i'll remove you sorry :(

[moonlit-imagines]

Lovesick

Wally West x reader

warnings: depression, angst teehee

a/n:

prompt: anon 🦊: “I’d like to request the song Lovesick by Laufey for Wally West and romantic relationship.”//Lovesick - Laufey

Ever since Wally…left, you’d felt like you were stuck in a neverending loop. Couldn’t get out of bed in the morning, barely able to keep yourself fed, sleeping all day, numbing your mind with stupid TV shows and movies that distracted you from the reality that Wally was gone.

When you stewed in bed, all you could see was his face. His cocky smile and a voice like honey telling you everything was going to be fine, but it never did. Even after all these months you’d still wake believing he was right beside you and ready to drive you crazy all morning.

Wally was a lot of things, but you never took him as a martyr. Maybe that’s why it felt so unreal—because you stopped seeing him as Kid Flash and started seeing him as your future husband. Now you had nothing. Just an empty apartment covered in trash, you hadn’t cooked in weeks, you hadn’t left in days nor had you showered and the Team was worried sick over you.

Dick, Artemis, Kaldur, Conner, and M’gaan showed up together one day, unannounced, and let themselves right in. You were asleep on the couch with the TV loudly playing some stupid show from the nineties. “Wow, it really stinks in here.” Dick said, wandering through the house.

“I’m gonna get y/n into the shower.” Artemis told the Team, shaking you awake gently. “Y/N, it’s me. The whole Team is here, isn’t that nice?” She saw your eyelids twitch, knowing you were pretending to be asleep. “Come on, let’s get you to the bathroom. No more rotting on the couch, we’re gonna be productive today.”

“What time is it?” You asked.

“It’s nine in the morning. Perfect time to shower and get dressed.” She pulled you from the indented couch cushions and you greeted the rest of the Team as you were pushed into the bathroom, where piles of dirty clothes were stacked. She turned the water on and let it run a bit, letting you know when it was warm enough for you. Before she left the bathroom, you stopped her.

“Can you stay in here with me?” You asked, desperately needing the company in such a mundane task. She agreed, closing her eyes while you undressed and climbed into the shower. It was then that she asked you how you were feeling and you broke down into tears.

“I don’t think I can live without him.” You sobbed into your hands. “My heart feels like it’s being ripped out of my chest every time I’m reminded of him. I’m angry at him for sacrificing himself—and I know we’d all be dead without it but I can’t help but be angry…” You spoke so loud the rest of the Team could hear as they cleaned your apartment. “I just can’t even go outside without being reminded by little things. He went on walks with me at the park. He picked flowers on his way home from class. He took me to lunch every Sunday. And now I have nothing!” Artemis silently broke into tears with you, trying to find a way to help you but she just didn’t know what to do.

“I…I don’t want you to be alone after today.” She replied. “Will you stay with me for a while? I could use the company.” The offer made you cry a bit more. “We should have come here sooner.”

“It’s okay.” You sniffled. “I know you guys were hurting, too.” You turned the shower off and grabbed the nearest towel, opening the bathroom door to see your friends cleaning your home, taking out the trash, doing the dishes, loading the washing machine, opening the blinds—everything they can to get you back. And for a moment, you thought you caught a glimpse of Wally in the shuffle. “I think you’re right, Artemis. I can’t hide from the world. It’s not what Wally would want for me.” You walked into your room and tried to find some clean clothes in the back of your closet while Artemis talked to the Team.

And in the back of your closet you found a picture of Wally laid on the floor. “You hear that Wally? It’s time to move on and move out.” You told the still image of his smiling brightly with the blinding sun in his eyes. “I’ll be okay. I think. I’d be better with you, but I can’t have you anymore. I’m sick to my stomach with grief, but I’ll love you forever.”

taglist: @summersimmerus // @azazel-nyx // @ravenstrueluv // @captainshazamerica // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[art-by-jas]

𝑈𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 (AO3)

𝘋𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘚𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘺 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘪 𝘑𝘳 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Word Count: 5k

Rating: M

Summary: As the new addition to the Manhattan SVU, Detective Sonny Carisi found it challenging to fit in without causing a stir. He had a chance encounter with you while doing laundry late one night in the new apartment he moved into. The following day, after a long shift working a case, he happens to run into you again at the coffee shop where you work.

As the clock strikes midnight, the old laundry room in the apartment building is illuminated by the dim, flickering overhead lights. The air is thick with the scent of damp fabric and the rhythmic hum of the aging washing machines. 

 The sound of rain pounding against the glass can be heard through the small, grimy window. There is a sense of calm doing laundry at this hour.

 The door to the room creaks open, the sound barely registering in your consciousness as you sit hunched over your phone, thumb mindlessly scrolling through an endless feed. 

 “Hey, Ummm… I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have a few quarters? The machine decided to munch on mine! I just need a few for the dryer." A cheerful voice interrupted your dissociated episode of staring at your phone screen.

As you lift your gaze from the flickering screen, the unexpected sight of another person in the dimly lit room greets you.

"Yeah, sure," you say, reluctantly setting down your phone to retrieve a few quarters from your pocket. "Here you go," you say, passing the coins to the newcomer. "I have had that happen before; it is annoying as hell."

With a chuckle, the man reaches out his hand and accepts the quarters. "Thank you so much," he says, his warm smile brightening his face. An easy grace and a playful glint in his eyes gave him an endearing quality.

 He glances at the whirring machines, watching the damp clothes spin inside. "Doing laundry at this hour? Couldn't sleep?" He opens the washer, transfers the wet clothes to the dryer, and feeds quarters into the slot. His strong, steady fingers move with precision, confidently guiding the process.

"Yeah," you reply. "Insomnia's been keeping me company lately. You?"

The man echoes, "Same here," as he closes the panel on the machine and presses the start button. The machine instantly springs back to life, its hum resuming with renewed vigor. 

Turning back to you, the man's warm smile remains. "It’s my first day at a new location for my job soon," he explains, leaning against the machine.

"Sometimes I have late nights at the office, so my sleep schedule's all over the place."

"I noticed the room across from mine was being cleared out. Did you just move in? You don’t look familiar," you ask.

The man's soft, low chuckle sends a strange flutter through your chest. "Yeah, you caught me," he admits, smiling at you. "I just moved in last week, and I'm still unpacking, trying to figure out where to put everything." He pauses, meeting your gaze. "I'm Sonny, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Sonny. Welcome to the building. I know it's not much, but it's a nice little spot to call home." You introduce yourself to him as you move to shake his outstretched hand.

Sonny tips his head in acknowledgment, his gaze holding yours for a moment. "Thanks; I appreciate it," he replies, his voice low and soft. "I've lived in worse places, so this is a definite upgrade." Sonny runs his hand through his silvery hair. He glances at the machines, then turns to you with a casual curiosity. "So, I take it you've been here for a while?" he asks.

You nod, "Yeah, a few years now." The realization you’ve lived here long enough to be considered a "long-term resident" is faintly disturbing. You run a hand through your hair, feeling slightly disheveled. "It's a fairly quiet building, for the most part."

Sonny’s voice took on a thoughtful tone. "That's good. I've lived in places where the noise was constant. You could never get a moment's peace. It was maddening, to say the least." He turns his gaze toward the window, his eyes taking in the faint glow of streetlights filtering through the rain.

"If you don't mind me asking, where did you live previously?" You inquire.

"I used to live in Queens," he replies, "but it didn't work out, and my job ended up transferring me here instead," Sonny speaks, his fingers tracing an idle pattern on the cool metal surface of the washing machines. "But it's not all bad," he adds, a hint of optimism resurfacing in his voice. "New places can be good. Fresh starts, you know? Sometimes we need those."

A moment of silent understanding passes between the both of you before he speaks again, a half-smile playing at the corners of his lips. "And hey, at least I’ve got neighbors like you to keep the company."

You manage a small chuckle, the compliment sending a subtle flush of warmth through you. 

Sonny's smile widens, his eyes holding yours for a moment. The silence returns, but it feels different this time—more comfortable, less isolating. The rhythmic hum of the machines continued to fill the room, like a shared heartbeat between two strangers in the night. The rain continues pattering softly against the window, creating an intimate atmosphere in the old laundry room.

The washing machine beeped, signaling that your laundry was finished and ready to be transferred to the dryer. He observes, watching as you transfer your wet clothes to the dryer. As you make small talk, time idles by while you wait for your clothes to finish.

"So," he finally says, "what do you do when you're not doing laundry at ungodly hours?"

The unexpected question momentarily catches you off guard, prompting you to pause and carefully formulate a response. "Well," you begin, a faint smile tugging at your lips. "When I'm not tackling the laundry, I'd like to think of myself as a fairly interesting person. I'm an avid reader, enjoy experimenting in the kitchen, and may or may not have been known to binge-watch an inordinate number of TV shows."

Sonny's smile reveals his rapt attention as he casually studies you, his eyes brimming with curiosity. "An avid reader, a connoisseur of the kitchen, and a TV aficionado," he muses, his voice laced with amused approval. "Quite the impressive trifecta you've assembled there."

Leaning in slightly, his eyes alight with curiosity, he asks, "So, what shows do you binge-watch? Because the answer will either make us friends for life or enemies for eternity.”

The playful challenge in his tone was unmistakable, and you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. "Hmm," you think about, pretending to ponder the question. "Well, I enjoy science fiction, thrillers, and the occasional drama. But if you must know..." You lean in. "My guilty pleasure is baking competition shows. There's something about the dough, sprinkled with the tears of defeated contestants, that really appeals to me."

Sonny's rich, hearty laughter echoed through the room. "Baking competition shows, huh? I enjoy those myself, but 'Cake Boss' is a bit much. I appreciate the artistry, but those cakes are just towering, frosting-laden monstrosities that make my teeth hurt. I'd much rather stick to perfecting my nonna's classic cannoli recipe."

You both exchange a knowing glance. "Ah, cannoli," I reply, my mouth nearly watering. "A classic Italian dessert. Do you come from a large, close-knit family that gathers for lively Sunday dinners?”

Sonny's broad, guilty smile confirms my suspicion. "I come from an Italian family, full of the loud, opinionated, and emotional dynamics you'd expect," he confesses. "And yes, our Sunday dinners are quite the spectacle—a lively blend of mouthwatering food, family gossip, and heated debates on everything from politics to the proper way to season a ragu."

Seeing Sonny's smile, you couldn't help but mirror it, the warmth and vibrancy of his family gatherings stirring a touch of envy within me. 

"It sounds like a lot of fun," you say. "I'm a bit envious. My family is more... subdued, I suppose—less colorful." You chuckle as you watch him, for it’s his turn to retrieve his clothes and begin folding them. A few minutes pass, and you follow his movements of folding your own.

"Shall we head back upstairs then?"

Sonny agrees with a nod. "Yeah, we should probably call it a night—or morning, rather." 

He passes your neatly folded clothes over to you, and his fingertips graze yours, sending a subtle shiver through you.

Your conversation flows effortlessly as you make your way back to your apartment. The dimly lit hallway cast a faint yellow glow, broken only by the soft patter of our footsteps and the occasional creak of the building's aged floorboards. Reaching your doors, you both pause. The silence between you grew comfortable, a lingering sense of familiarity and connection palpable. Sonny's gaze met yours, his eyes conveying a mix of reluctance and resignation.

“It was nice meeting you, Sonny,” you say with a smile.

Sonny's boyish smile returns, his warm gaze stirring an unexpected flutter in your chest. "Likewise," he replies, his pleasant, rumbling voice lingering in the air. "I'll catch ya around, alright? Have a good night."

“Night.”

He vanishes inside, the soft click of the door closing behind him echoing in the otherwise silent corridor.

------------✧♡✧------👮🧺💓🧑-----✧♡✧-------------

Rushing to the precinct, Sonny carries a coffee and takeout bag in one hand and his gym bag in the other, determined to be on time. Realizing the sergeant was not present, he saw no need to rush once he made it inside the bullpen. With a few minutes of free time, he decides to explore and familiarize himself with the layout. Several other detectives sit at their desks, filing paperwork as he looks around.

Two women's voices filtered into the bullpen. The first had dark hair flowing freely, slightly older than the other. The second woman's blonde hair was tied back, with a few stray bangs falling across her face.

As Sonny interrupts their conversation, he exclaims, "They shot at cops right outside the police station? So, they want us to know they're crazy."

"You must be my new detective," the brunette says.

Dominick Carisi, Jr. ” He introduces himself, "Call me Sonny. I brought Zeppoli," as he shakes their hand.

"I asked for an experienced, empathic detective, and they sent you," she says.

"I'm way experienced. Sensitive and moody, too, and I can do that whole empathy thing," he assures.

"Where are you from?" the blonde woman asks.

"Staten Island SVU for two months, Brooklyn for almost a month, and then Queens last week," he rattles on.

“So, they love you wherever you go, Carisi?" The brunette says he later finds out that this is his new boss, Sergeant Benson.

"Call me Sonny. I know I was supposed to start tomorrow, but I heard about the shooting over my scanner, so I came in. What's our read?"

Benson and the blonde, who introduced herself as Detective Amanda Rollins, brought him up to speed on the current case, explaining how it connected to a previous case from a few months ago involving Ellie Porter. Ellie had been the victim of human trafficking and gang-raped before being set on fire—a horrible crime. 

Sonny also learned that the young woman they arrested that morning while 'serving’ a john appears to be associated with the same crew. Benson teams up with Sonny to go pick up the girl and instructs Sonny to follow her lead, warning that failure to do so would result in him being sent to the SVU in the Bronx.

Sonny nods, his expression conveying understanding. "Understood, boss," he replies firmly and resolutely. "You have my word. I'll follow your lead."

Benson drives Sonny and herself to Luna Garcia's house. The peaceful journey was accompanied by a pleasant, cloudless day. Sonny savors the warm sunshine and gentle breeze as they drive. His mind wanders briefly, but he refocuses when Benson speaks up.

"So," Benson begins, "you've worked with the Special Victims Unit before; how was that?"

Sonny gazes out at the passing cityscape. As Benson inquires about his past SVU background, he shifts his attention to her, offering a faint smile. "It was intense, no doubt," he replies. "But also immensely rewarding. Dealing with victims of such heinous crimes is grueling work, yet being able to provide even a small measure of comfort and justice makes it all worthwhile."

His expression softens, his eyes reflecting a glimmer of empathy and understanding. The memory of those past experiences still weighs heavily on him. "It can take a toll, though. The trauma those victims endure... it stays with you, you know?"

A brief sigh crosses Sonny's face, the weight of his memories momentarily visible. After a contemplative pause, his gaze returns to Benson, his tone shifting to a more conversational manner. "My time with the SVU has taught me a lot," he remarks. "How to handle sensitive cases, how to approach victims and witnesses, you know the drill."

Benson's gaze flickers to Sonny before returning to the road. “You seem to have the right mindset and approach,” she observes, 'but I need to ensure you play by the rules,” she says, offering him a kind smile. The drive to the girl's house was filled with pleasant conversation as they got to know each other better.

After bringing Luna back to the precinct, the detectives interview her, showing her a photo of Ellie. At first, Luna was uncooperative, insisting she would rather go to jail than provide any information. Benson tried coaxing her with a gentle tone, but this approach went nowhere fast. 

Sonny then intervened, speaking to Luna in a manner he thought might appeal to her, before switching tactics and offering to help her obtain T-Nonimmigrant Status, but only if she helped and gave them a statement.

After Garcia's sudden change of heart, Serg pulled him to the side, outside of the interrogation room, and told him that what he had just done in there was not how they do things here in Manhattan. Sonny apologized and continued working Luna over.

As the day progresses, Sonny is introduced to his new colleagues, Odafin Tutola, and beat cop Nick Amaro, who originally was in the SVU but due to recent events was demoted. 

Together, they planned for Nick to go undercover as a dirty cop looking for a handout with the information he has and a raid for later that evening. Sonny rubs his tired eyes, surprised by the eventful nature of his first day on the job. He stops at a nearby coffee shop to refuel before the eventful night, while Nick prepares to pull over Joaquin Menendez and warn him of the impending raid, a gesture of good faith to maintain their cover.

��⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖

Sonny's fatigued senses were beckoned by the rich aroma of the corner coffee shop as he walked in the door. As he waits, his mind drifts—a mix of energizing adrenaline and overwhelming exhaustion swirls inside him.

Sonny's eyes widen in surprise as he recognizes you standing behind the counter.

“Hello, thanks for stopping by. What can I help- Sonny?” 

Surprise flickers across his face, his blue eyes widening as they meet yours. "Hey," he says, a smile spreading across his face. "I didn't expect to see you here." Joy stirs in his eyes, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. He steps up to the counter, leaning against it lazily. A hint of weariness still clung to his features, but the sight of you brightened his mood considerably.

With a grin, you say, "What can I get for you? It's on the house."

Sonny's eyes widen in disbelief as he protests, "You can't be serious." A grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he shakes his head. "I can't let you do that. Let me pay."

Chuckling at the memory, you reply, "Nonsense, it's not every day you bond over doing laundry at midnight."

He laughs, Alright, alright," he concedes, "if you insist."

Sonny's eyes scan the menu, weighing his options. "I'll have a strong espresso," he declares. "Caffeine is all I've had today."

You frown. "That's it? Sonny, let me get you something from the bake rack. You can't survive on just coffee."

He chuckles faintly at your concern. "Alright," he surrenders again, a sheepish grin on his face. There's something about squabbling with you that feels oddly familiar, comfortable even. "Surprise me, then."

 Sonny waits for his drink and glances around the cozy coffee shop. The walls are adorned with eclectic artwork, and soft music plays in the background, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. Leaning against the counter, Sonny's gaze occasionally flits to you moving efficiently behind the bar. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the lingering scent of sugar and pastries filled the air. After a few minutes, you place a steaming espresso and a blueberry muffin on the counter. 

Sonny smiles appreciatively as he sips the rich, robust espresso, then bites into the warm, fluffy blueberry muffin. He moans. "This is exactly what I needed," he says, savoring the perfect balance of bitterness from the dark roast and sweetness from the muffin. He settles into a chair near the counter, continuing to sip and nibble on his delightful breakfast.

The espresso's caffeine gradually revives Sonny as he leans back. Every so often, you'd enter the lobby with a rag to clean the tables and restock the napkins, making sure to chat with him whenever you could between helping other customers. As he watches you navigate the coffee shop, skillfully attending to other customers, Sonny couldn't help but admire the seamless way you worked. 

However, he also noticed the subtle signs of tiredness in your eyes; he could empathize. Despite your exhaustion, you continue serving customers with a genuine smile. Sonny's admiration for you grew, not just because of your coffee-making skills but also for your resilience and warm personality.

Sonny gathers his belongings; his thoughts linger on his enjoyable coffee break. He makes his way to the counter.

"Hey," he begins, his voice slightly rough from the potent espresso. "I have to get back, but I just wanted to thank you again for the coffee and muffin. You didn't have to do that."

You dismiss his concern with a casual wave of your hand. "It's no big deal," you say with a warm smile. "I know you've had a long day, and I'm not letting you leave without something in your stomach besides caffeine."

Sonny chuckles softly, knowing that arguing with you is futile. He rubs the back of his neck, still marveling at your kindness. “I owe you one, you know?"

"I'll keep that in mind," you reply with a mischievous grin. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

During a nighttime raid, the SVU team discovers several undocumented girls as well as a 14-year-old named Missy Brooks. They also apprehend Joaquin, but Detective Tutola allows him to leave after he mentions Amaro's name, to make him think the whole Amaro undercover story was real.

At the precinct, Rollins notices Missy's cell phone background is a photo of an infant. She tells Missy that the police raided a house in May and found children inside. Rollins then asks Missy where her baby is. 

Meanwhile, the TARU team examines the phones of the trafficked girls and discovers they all have the QuickRide app installed. However, Missy remains tight-lipped and refuses to provide any information.

As dawn approaches, Sergeant Benson instructs Sonny to go home and rest for the night, assuring him that the team has the situation under control. She promises to call Sonny once they gather more information and leads.

Sonny nods, visibly tired after a long day and an intense raid. Although he wanted to stay and help the case along, he knew Benson was right. He needed rest if he was going to be of any use.

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Sonny trudges into his small apartment, shuts the door behind him, and leans against it for a moment, letting out a long, weary sigh. The quiet embrace of his apartment envelopes him, and the realization that he was finally alone after such a hectic day washes over him with a sense of relief.

The apartment fell into a peaceful hush, save for the whisper of Sonny's gentle breaths. Occasional murmurs from the air conditioner and distant city noises punctuated the silence. Sonny finally surrenders to a well-deserved sleep.

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

When it rains, it bleeds. In Attica, Little Tino was viciously stabbed by three fellow prisoners and required emergency surgery, narrowly escaping death. 

Meanwhile, in the Bellevue prison ward, someone fatally injects a lethal dose into Diego's neck. 

Across town in Queens, Missy and a client are discovered shot to death inside a car. 

Concerned for her son Noah's safety, Detective Benson calls his nanny Lucy, only to learn she has taken him to the DeWitt Clinton Playground. Suddenly, Benson hears the chilling sound of gunfire over the phone. Racing to the playground, she finds that, mercifully, no one has been harmed. 

At the precinct, the squad regroups, and Sonny is introduced to Rafael Barba, an eccentric Assistant District Attorney. Benson then proposes a plan for Nick to meet with Joaquin again, leading to the arrest of both Nick and Menendez.

Time ticks by, and the squad tirelessly works to piece together the complex puzzle. Sonny can feel the exhaustion of the relentless investigation gnawing at his mind. He glances at the clock on the wall, surprised to realize hours had passed. Rising from his chair, he stretches his limbs, his muscles protesting the prolonged sitting.

Benson and Fin visited a now conscious Tino at the hospital, where they ran into his mother, who told them so information to further the investigation to arrange a meeting with a woman named Carmen on Craigslist to locate Selena.

In the seedy hotel room, Sonny prepares to play his part, pretending to be a disgruntled "John" seeking a rougher, more aggressive sex worker. As the knock on the door signals her arrival, Sonny puts on his creepy charm, complimenting the woman and touching her hair, though he feels conflicted about the situation. When she offers only a massage, Sonny becomes aggressive, prompting the woman to flee to the bathroom and call Selena. Moments later, Selena and her driver arrive and confront Sonny at gunpoint. However, Detectives Fin and Rollins intervene and apprehend Selena and her driver.

After escorting the group back to the precinct, the two detectives left Sonny to take a few minutes for himself. Needing time to refocus and regain his composure, Sonny stepped outside the motel and sat down, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. Knowing a visit to his favorite coffee shop would lift his spirits, Sonny soon headed that way, eager for the comfort of a familiar routine.

The familiar and comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee fills his senses. He notices you behind the counter, your smile effortlessly radiant as you greet him.

Taking a deep breath, he approaches the counter, his nerves and the events of the day already making him tense.

He returns your smile, attempting to appear composed despite the nervous energy coursing through him. "Hey," he began, his voice slightly strained. Sonny made his way into the shop, the familiar and comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee filling his senses. He notices you behind the counter; your smile is effortlessly radiant as you greet him.

"Hey there, can I get a repeat of yesterday?" Sonny steps closer.

"Of course, coming right up," you say with a grin.

Sonny leans against the counter, his eyes on you as you pour the black coffee into the cup. 

You place the cup and this time a banana muffin in front of him. Sonny couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort. "Thanks," he says, his voice slightly rough. "You don't know how much I needed this today."

He accepts the cup and muffin, his fingers subtly touching yours for a brief moment, sending a jolt through him. The contact felt natural but also electrifying as if his body was hyper-aware of your touch.

He glances up from his cup and muffin, his eyes flickering over to the counter and you. The thought of asking for your number comes to him. He goes to the same chair next to the counter and begins to eat and sip.

After cashing out a customer, he notices you approaching him and takes a seat on the opposite side of his table. 

"Hey," Sonny replies, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He studies you, noticing the little details he hadn't observed before—the subtle sparkle in your eyes.

"I hope I'm not interrupting your lunch," you say, your voice casually light. "But I wanted to check in on how you're doing. You look tired."

Sonny chuckles softly, surprised by your observation. "I am tired," he admits. "It's been a long day." The weariness has settled into his eyes, and his slumped shoulders probably betray his exhaustion. He takes another sip of his coffee. "But I appreciate you checking on me," he adds, his eyes meeting yours.

"How did your first day go? You mentioned in the laundry room that it was coming up soon." You ask.

"It was..." Sonny starts. Where to even begin summing up the events of the two days he’s had? It had been a whirlwind of chaos and danger. He takes a moment to collect his thoughts, then replies. "It was intense, to say the least. Long hours, lots of work,” Sonny smiled slightly, touched that you remembered their brief conversation from a few days ago. 

You let out a lighthearted laugh as you remarked, "Well, that's not at all mysterious and cryptic."

Sonny chuckles at your remark, feeling the tension in his shoulders lighten a little. "Can't give away all the secrets," he replies, his voice just slightly teasing.

Sonny appreciated that you didn't pry further, even if he could see the curiosity and maybe a bit of concern in your gaze. It was refreshing to be with someone who respected his boundaries and understood not to press for details. He takes another sip of his coffee, the conversation settling into a comfortable rhythm between you two.

"How was your day?" he asks, genuinely interested to hear about your life and experiences. Alone with you in the quiet coffee shop, he hoped to continue the conversation, savoring the chance to linger in your company.

“A customer ordered a drink with sparkling water. I handed it to her, but she immediately frowned and asked if it contained sparkling water. I reminded her that the menu clearly listed the ingredients. Ugh, it frustrates me when people don't read.” Your cheeks redden as you realize you are ranting. "Sorry," you say.

Sonny's exhaustion was momentarily forgotten as a soft smile tugged at his lips. Listening to your little story, he finds himself amused by your rant. He could see the frustration in your expression and the way your cheeks flushed just a bit. It was endearing.

"No apologies necessary," he says, his voice gentle. "I get it. Some people just can't be bothered to pay attention, even when it's spelled out right in front of them." He chuckles softly, enjoying the glimpse into your world. He wonders how many other little annoyances you deal with on a daily basis. He finds himself wanting to know more about your life—the things that made you laugh, the things that made you angry. And he couldn't help but realize that he found your rants quite charming.

"Besides the sparkling water incident," he teases, "was the rest of your day uneventful?" He leans back in his chair, his eyes fixed on you, enjoying the lighthearted moment amidst the day's chaos.

"Yeah, it's pretty dead today, which I'm thankful for; last week we were so swamped."

"Well, here's to a quiet day then," Sonny replies, his tone earnest. He takes another sip of his coffee, his eyes still lingering on you. He was grateful for the brief reprieve the calm atmosphere of the coffee shop provided—a chance to reset before diving back into the chaos of his day.

He glances at his watch, realizing he should probably get back to the precinct soon. But the thought of leaving the quiet comfort of the coffee shop and the easy conversation with you made him hesitate for a moment. He wants more time to talk to you and to know more about you. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his chair back, signaling he was getting ready to leave.

"Hey, Sonny..." You begin calling out to him before he leaves. "Can I have your number?"

Sonny stops in his tracks, his heart skipping a beat at your unexpected question. He turns back to you, surprised but pleasantly so.

"Uh...yeah, sure. I'd like that," he replies, a genuine smile spreading across his face. He quickly grabs a nearby napkin from the counter and fishes a pen out of his pocket. Writing his number onto the napkin, he can't help but feel a mix of nervousness and excitement. Handing the napkin over to you, he watches you closely.

"I'll text you later; you go save the city." You giggle as you hold onto the napkin.

Sonny can't help but smile at your words. There's something about the way you say it—so casual yet sincere—that makes his heart skip a beat. Your carefree attitude is a refreshing contrast to the seriousness of his job.

"And you save me a coffee for tomorrow," he replies with a wink before heading out the door.

He can't help but feel a little lighter than he did before—a subtle boost of energy and anticipation. He knows he has an exhausting day ahead of him, but the knowledge that he'll see you and talk to you again soon makes the idea of returning to work much more bearable. 

Sonny enters the precinct, and the familiar sights and sounds immediately bring him back to reality. He put on his game face. He makes his way towards the squad room; a small smile still lingering on his lips, evidence that the thought of you had brought a glimmer of joy to his day.

Chapter 2

[hauntedhokage]

laundry day

Eijiro Kirishima/Fem!Reader 

word count: 2k

summary: Laundry day was one of his favorite days of the week for a few reasons. A broken washing machine in your apartment requiring a trip to a laundromat wasn’t going to ruin that for him.

warnings: public sex, fingering, needy!Kiri, references to past (probably painful) quirk mishaps, unprotected sex, Kirishima is a talker 

ao3 link

“Why don’t you sort your clothes?” you grumble, sifting through the laundry bag he carried in to see if there were any more white shirts hiding in there. You’d already found three, you were certain there’d be more. There was always one more. 

“Why is it now a problem?” he asks from where he sits atop one of the folding tables, watching as he was told while you load the washing machines. “Didn’t care last week.”

“Last week the washer wasn’t broken on laundry day.”

“So?”

“So at home I can just throw the next shirt I find into the machine. Here the door locks when it starts washing so I can’t do that and I’d like to protect your white clothes while not paying extra to wash them.”

“If these,” he lifts a pair of your red panties and swings them around his finger, “turn one of my shirts pink, then I’m not complaining. It’ll probably remind me of your p-”

“Stop right there.” 

“I was gonna say panties, before you get yours in a bunch.” The teasing only has you slamming the washer door shut, rolling your eyes as he laughs while slingshotting your panties into the other machine that already had some of his clothes in it. “Relax, baby, it’s laundry day!”

“Not as fun when we’re not at home, Eijiro.” 

“You’re working too hard, that’s all.” And he wasn’t helping, so go figure. The busy pro hero had not done the laundry since you’d moved in together - that was happily taken on as your task since he always managed to do the dishes even after long days of work keeping the streets clean and free from villany. The busy pro who always tried to take laundry day, or at least the morning of laundry day, to stay home since the rule was “everything worn gets washed” which meant he got to watch you walk around the apartment naked while he also lounged around in the buff. 

The washing machine breaking the other day, and your darling pro hero boyfriend’s tired attempt at fixing it only making it worse, is why you had to be in the laundromat and washing clothes while fully clothed. 

“Do you work later?”

“Trying not to, but anything can happen.” 

You nod at that, holding your hand out for more coins and looking over when he only put his hand in yours to hold it. The relaxed smile on his face eases all the tension in your body almost immediately; and you squeeze his hand with a smile of your own as he puts the coins in for you, bringing your knuckles to his lips for a kiss as you start the machine. 

“Not very chivalrous of me to let you do all the work here, when it’s kinda my fault we have to be here.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” you promise, leading him back towards the folding table you’d made your base camp for the morning. He lifts you onto it with ease, standing between your legs and resting his head on your chest. He hadn’t styled his hair this morning so the bright red locks laid flat against his head, making it easy for you to run your fingers through his hair and scratch at his scalp without getting product under your nails.

“'M sorry I messed up the washer.”

“All good, the thing was going out anyway. The new one gets delivered on Monday, and we’ll be back to normal.” Your reasoning is met with a hum, his fingers ghosting along the skin of your thighs left uncovered by your shorts. It’s an innocent touch, but quickly turns less than when those nimble digits dance their way under the loose material along the inside of your thighs. 

“Eijiro, we’re in public.”

“We’re alone, baby, ‘n I wanna say sorry:”

“You can say sorry at home.”

“Not fun.” He’s pouting at you now, trying to play at your weaknesses while his fingers stay just barely away from your mound. “C’mon, baby, it’ll be okay. Just wanna take care of you for taking such good care of me. Just my fingers, promise.”

There were many ways that this could go wrong. He couldn’t “just” finger you, he was too eager to please and once he got a taste of you he could never stop. Not until you were thoroughly spent and requiring that he stopped so you could breathe. But you couldn’t fight the pout, nor could you argue with the desire that he’d stirred up with his fingers alone. 

“Just your fingers?”

“I promise, and you know a chivalrous hero never breaks a promise.” 

He hadn’t yet, and that has you nodding while leaning in to kiss him. The grin on his face is nothing short of victorious, his fingers finding their place between your folds and finding that your body had chosen long before you did. 

“Already wet, and you didn’t wear panties. I’d say you wanted to get fucked in the laundromat this morning.”

“My body knows that laundry soap means I’m about to get dicked down, that’s all.”

“Mhm. I’m sure my big muscles carrying both of the baskets in one trip had nothing to do with it.”

“You caught me.” Your hand coming up to grip one of those biceps when two fingers push into your wet pussy with ease only has him smirking, pushing his forehead to yours to ensure he didn’t miss a single indication of pleasure in your face. “I do love your big muscles, Eiji.”

“Yeah, I know. What do you want for lunch?” His fingers move inside you as he poses the question, thumb carefully grazing over your clit which has you gasping before you can answer. “ I don’t think ‘ah!’ is food, baby.”

Your witty counter is just a whispered “shut up”, as he’s bringing a third finger to join the other two and the feeling of the stretch has your mind buffering a bit. It’d been about a week since you and Eijiro had time like this, he’d been busy and your own work had picked up a bit - two tired bodies and exhausted minds did not make for real interest in sex. 

“Missed you, baby,” he whispers, nudging your nose with his own as his fingers continue their easy thrusts. “Missed you so much, I hate how much I’m working.”

“Missed you too, Eiji,” you murmur back, teeth catching his top lip as his fingers curl inside you. “But your work is important, I can handle the late nights and early mornings.”

“Not very chivalrous to leave a beautiful girl all alone in that big bed.” His thumb presses against your clit, his free hand holding your thigh open to keep his access unrestricted. “Needed her big strong hero to keep her warm, help her cum, and I was off being chivalrous to other people.”

His thumb lifts, and you try to follow but his hands keep you firmly planted in your spot at the table. This wasn’t the time to tease, but you knew he wouldn’t risk dragging this out while you were in public, it was too dangerous for that. 

“I’d get on my knees for you right now if I could.” His whisper is heavy with his own need, a hiss escaping when your free hand cups the bulge in his shorts. “Baby.”

“It’s not breaking a promise if I ask, right?” your offer has him pulling back so he could properly look at you with pupils blown, lips parted - the picture of needy perfection, swallowing in anticipation when you whisper: “Please fuck me, Eijiro.”

You trusted that he wouldn’t agree if there was even a chance of being caught on camera. He was in the top ten, there was too much to lose in a scandal like this. So you knew it was safe when he nods, but you also knew that the excitement might end up being too much for him. 

His hands are only slightly shaky as he pushes his shorts down just enough to free his length, and you’re thankful that your shorts only needed to be pushed to the side to allow him to line himself up with your dripping core since you didn’t want to have to scramble for them should someone come in. 

Even with the prep; after two weeks without him, the stretch to accommodate feels insane. Maybe it’s the environment and the risk making you tense,which in turn was making your gummy walls akin to a vice around your sweet boyfriend, but you know by the look on his face that he’s not going to last long this time around - but he’d always deliver.

“Need a minute,” he mumbles, his hands gripping your hips as your hands carefully come up to hold his cheeks. “Can’t even begin to explain how fucking great you feel right now.” 

“Just keep that quirk in check, big guy,” you whisper, earning a breathy laugh from your lover at the reminder as his hands give you a gentle squeeze. Those hands were always gentle when they touched you, holding your hips at just the right angle as he started to move inside you. The pressure of his fingertips was just right, his hips meeting yours in borderline frantic thrusts with one goal: get off before getting caught in the act. Your hand finds itself on the back of his head, fingers interwoven in the soft red locks as he kisses along your jawline. Gentle nips are soothed by softer kisses, sweet nothings whispered in between while you relish in the attention you’re getting from your beloved.

And the whole time he’s talking. Whispering to you how much he loves you, how wonderful you are, how good you feel, how badly he can’t wait to get you home and do this all over again all day until he has to stop. It’d been too long, he’d missed you and your body so much, he never wanted to go that long without you again. 

“Baby, baby, fuck,” he groans, pressing his face into the crook of your neck as the grip on your hips grew tighter. The pace of his thrusts becomes uneven, one hand moving from your hip so he could rub at your clit to push you towards his desired end. “You’re so fucking good, gonna cum for me? Gonna cum so I can give you mine?”

You can only nod, your own hand tightening in his hair to keep him close while he fucks into you. You can hear the back of the table you’re perched on banging against the washing machines behind you, but you can’t hear the words tumbling from your lips into his shoulder as the coil in your gut continues to tighten. 

“That’s it, baby, please please cum. Always look so pretty when you do.” His mumbles into your neck only push you closer, your heart pounding and blood rushing through your ears the only thing that you could focus on as your legs tighten around his hips. You’re biting into his shoulder when you finally topple over that edge, the release desperately needed and has your toes curling as his hips still against yours and your senses are flooded with a different warmth. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, releasing his hair and gently massaging at his scalp to try and soothe whatever ache might have been left from your grip. “Needed that, baby. Needed you.”

“Yeah?”

“Pretty girl needed her big strong hero.” Your confirmation has him grinning into your neck, leaving a gentle kiss on your skin before he’s pulling back to rest his forehead against yours. 

“Let's get cleaned up, baby. Wanna sit or come with me to the bathroom?”

“I’ll sit.” 

He nods as he pulls out, tucking himself back into his shorts before leaving you with a kiss to your nose to go to the bathroom. You only sit for a second before you’re turning back to face where he was still heading to the bathroom. 

“There was a bathroom all along!?"

[ladybelladonna76]

Rachel didn't know what her stepdad saw in that stupid girl he was dating

She was obviously hot, but she was also bitchy, vain, and materialistic

Unsurprisingly he'd met this goldigger shortly after the medical negligence payout from her mother's accidental death, at the hands of a drunk quack doctor, when Daddy had been looking for some comfort at the bottom of a whiskey glass in questionable bars

"We're going to have so much fun, Daddy says we can spend whatever we want today, I have permission to spoil us both rotten"

Rachel rolled her eyes

"Let's just get this over and done with"

"Okay Rachey, I promise you're going to love it, this salon works miracles, then we go shopping!", Rosie squealed as she said shopping like some over excited middle school girl on a carnival ride

"Whatever, I'm doing this because DAD asked me too that's all, after the salon you can drop me off home before going out shopping"

"Okay meanie" Rosie pouted

Inside the salon it was as bad as Rachel had feared. This was just a grooming kennel for over primped high maintenance bitches, she couldn't think of one treatment she wanted to try.

"Please try the New U facial treatment Rachey" Rosie whined in her bimbo voice for the hundredth time

"Fine if you'll shut up, at least I get to lay down and relax"

She laid back and the beautician put the mask over her face

The mask started to emit a pulsing wave of light

It feels wrong, invasive, it hurts

She tried to sit up but couldn't move

Her brain felt like it was aflame as the light seemed to penetrate her skull

Suddenly words and concepts started to run through Rachel's head.

Bitch, cuckold, homewrecker, conniving, golddigger, manipulative

Every word brought a flood of images and memories of Rachel as the living embodiment of these words

Rachel knew she wasn't, there was no way she could be, she had never, would never do any of those things, her mom and dad raised her with a strong sense of right and wrong and everything she saw herself doing was wrong.

Rachel could sense new color behind her eyelids even though her eyes were closed tight

More information washed over her, new feelings and ideas.

She had secretly coveted her Step Daddy for years after her mom had married him. No he was always her Daddy, no my Dad, wasn't he?

I'd fucked that gold digging bitch's plastic surgeon behind her back, mommy dearest was fucking him to get a discount so he was fair game.

That's how I got him addicted to drugs and me, I got him drunk, high, and fucked him all night before the day of the surgery. I'd made him botch the surgery

Rachel screamed inside the mask, that's not me I wouldn't, I couldn't, I love my Mommy

Rachel felt her body starting to alter as the new light worked it's magic

She started to groan inside the mask as she felt her body staring to firm and tone, her breasts grew as implants formed inside them, her lips plumped, her nails lengthened into beautiful manicured claws.

Daddy loved her body so much better than her mom's pathetic..

"Oh my God, mom I'm sorry this isn't me, this isn't what I wanted!!"

Rachel removed the mask and looked around for her stepmom

Where was she?

"There's only us Raquel", she thought

This didn't make any sense

"We were always jealous of Mommy since middle school, all her boy toys, her clothes, cars, vacations, we just had to bide our time until we were all grown up and then he could be ours"

He?

Daddy?

Was Daddy hers now alone?

Ever nerve in her body fired in unison at this realization as an orgasm swept through her body

Of course New U Salon's machines didn't really work miracles they only used a cutting edge application of Quantum Mechanics.

They did however merge Rachel and her stepmom's quantum realities

A little tweak here and there, so the Quantum realm remained while and all was perfect with the world again

Another happy customer with guaranteed repeat business and referrals to boot

Rachel was very satisfied

Raquel skipped shopping that day and rushed home to her Daddy

She'd wanted him since he'd first walked into her life with her bitch mother

She spent years preparing for when they could be together. Years studying her mother's manipulation techniques, daily exercise at the gym to sculpt her body into a temple to be worshiped, style to dress in a manner befitting a goddess, oh and sex, how she'd perfected the art of love making and giving, she'd become such a slut.

All to be ready for her Daddy and now he was hers, she'd never give him up

New U Salon really was miraculous

[vinylfoxbooks]

June 24 - Improve | @jegulus-microfic | wc: 983 TW: murder, body horror, weirdly affectionate talk about dead characters, minor character death. This one's rather dark

“Are you working on another painting, love?” James asks, coming up behind their boyfriend and wrapping their arms around his waist. 

Regulus taps his paintbrush against his palette and sets it into his water cup, “Yes. She came to me in a dream.”

“She’s pretty.” James hums, leaning his chin on Regulus’ shoulder, “Gonna be hard to find.”

“You say that everytime.” Regulus rolls his eyes, turning to press a kiss to James’ temple, “But you do it wonderfully. Every single time.”

“It might take me a minute.”

“That’s alright. I need to finish this one before I can start the next. Wait until I get her eyes, they’re special.”

“Alright, I’ll check in later tonight.” James straightens out, presses a kiss to Regulus’ cheek, and walks out of his art room. 

Later, they come in with a platter of snacks and Regulus’ water bottle refilled. Setting them both on the side table that Regulus has designated for the snacks and food that James brings him while he’s working, “How close are you to done with it?” They ask, picking up a croqueta and holding it out for Regulus to eat. The boy does so, humming at the treat. 

“I just need to finish the shading.” Regulus hums, “But if you want to get a picture of it so you can start looking, be my guest.” James smiles and pulls out their phone, snapping a picture of the painting. It’s of a woman, long, curly reddish-brown hair, tan skin, and eyes a honey-filled hazel. She’s got a relaxed expression, thin lips, and her nose upturned. 

“I’ll start looking tomorrow.” They hum, watching Regulus make small strokes of his paintbrush along the girl’s hair, “I’ll try to be quick about it.”

“Thank you, honey.” Regulus hums, taking another croqueta in his freehand while leaning his head back into James’ hand where it has started running through his hair. 

It only takes a couple of days before James finds her. Aleah. She’s a vet tech in downtown London, not far from their apartment. That’s all that James needs to know about her though they do write down some extra information about the girl before they set out. 

They make quick work of her. She’s too trusting. Falling asleep without her doors locked and without a weapon by her bed, even for a nap? Weak. She doesn’t even get a chance to scream and the fact that her eyes were closed when they struck makes their life so much easier. James is quick to put their gloves on and move the girl to the bathtub so we won’t bleed out everywhere while they’re doing their work. 

While her body is starting to fully drain, they strip her sheets and throw them into the washing machine, spraying over the mattress to get rid of any possible staining. Once that’s started, they make their way back to the bathroom, pulling out their kit and getting to work.

Once again, with her eyes pre-closed, it makes the stitches easier to do after they’ve plucked her eyelids and popped her eyeballs out of their socket, severing the optic nerve with their knife. After her eyes are sewn shut, they move onto her nostrils, a bit annoying with the nose piercing that she turned out to have but they figure that Regulus might like that. After the nostrils, they move onto her mouth, making sure that the colour of her lips is hidden. 

When her pretty face is shut closed, the polyester beautifully matching her skin tone, James pulls out their polaroid camera and snaps a couple photos of her, repositioning her hair occasionally and making sure that they’ve got a couple good reference photos from different angles.

After that, they start the water in the bathtub, re-sheet her bed, and leave only once they’ve turned off the water faucet.

“Reg? I’m home.” James calls once they enter their apartment. 

Regulus greets them at the door, pressing a small kiss to their lips, “Hello, Jamie. Did you get the pictures?”

James nods and hands him the polaroids they took, “Here. Isn’t she pretty?”

“Stunning.” The younger gazes fondly down at the polaroids, “Even prettier than my painting. I can’t wait to paint her like this. You made her… beautiful.”

“I improved her beauty.” James smiles, “Now, let me clean up so I can make us dinner then you can start on the painting tonight. I have a feeling this will be your best one yet.”

“You say that every time.”

“And yet, I mean it.” They gently take Regulus’ cheek in their now-ungloved hand, “Every. Time. Now, let me clean up.”

By the time that James is showered and changed into different clothes, Regulus has already made several sketches and thumbnails using all of the pictures that James took of Aleah. They whip up some dinner for the both of them before Regulus rushes off into his art room and James goes to get some sleep. 

Only days later, Regulus calls James into the room where he’s been basically isolating himself for days, “I finished it. She’s so pretty now.” He delights, guiding James towards his easel and gesturing to the finished painting.

James’ breath catches in their chest, “Oh, love. She’s…” They look over the painting. Where her eyes are no longer brown, instead the skin sinks into where the sockets are empty and the line where her mouth would be gone, skinned over. Her hair falls around her face in the same way that it did in the first painting but… “She’s beautiful, Reg. You did so good.”

“I love her.” Reg smiles, caressing the face of his painting, “Definitely an improvement.”

“She was pretty to begin with but this…” James pulls Regulus tight to their body, pulling him in for a kiss. It’s intense, and they both kiss with fervor. Right in front of their most recent creation.

[whats-her-quirk]

Secret Oath Chapter 6

last || m.list

➷➷➷➷➷

marco bott x fem!reader

18+ mdni

word count: 3.5k

chapter warnings: sex talk, smooching, swimming, dick insecurity

a/n: attempting to post this on my iPad was a mistake but I just couldn’t wait.

♪ washing machine heart by mitski

➷➷➷➷➷

You feel like you have a secret. The feeling of Marco’s lips burns on your own, so vibrant you wonder if people can see it on your face. If that’s not obvious, Marco holds your hand all the way back to the cabin that night. You part at the door with one last kiss, his palm resting warmly on the side of your neck. You don’t know if anyone sees. You don’t know if you care.

When you step inside the cabin, bodies scramble away from the window in a ruckus. Hitch dives for her bunk while Ymir and Historia flop onto the floor, as if they had already been lying there. Mikasa doesn’t move; she’s writing in a journal on the other side of the room.

Your face heats, but you try not to let it show. “Lurkers.”

Ymir and Historia explode into a fit of giggles while Hitch flings herself at you, squealing. “You did it!”

You’re quick to shush them. Even if it’s not a secret, you don’t want to embarrass Marco if the boys hear everyone screaming about him through the wall.

Hitch takes your cheeks in her hands, practically touching her nose to yours as she stares into your eyes. “Tell me everything.”

You’re somewhere between giddy and embarrassed, still trying to wrap your brain around it. “We just kissed, that’s all.”

Hitch claps her hands. “Details, details! Was it everything you dreamed it would be?”

You bite your lip to hide your smile. “Yeah.” You can’t even lie.

Historia squeals and slaps Ymir eagerly on the arm.

“Ok, ok, ok, chill. I’m excited too but oh my god,” you shush again.

“You are IN, baby!” says Hitch.

“We’ll see.”

“You WILL deflower him, or so help me god–”

“YMIR!”

But you hope she’s right. You really hope she’s right.

In an effort to keep your cool, you start digging around in your suitcase for pajamas. “So Hitch. Any updates on Erwin?”

She pouts. “No. I’m not getting anywhere with him.”

Mikasa shuts her journal. “Oh, Erwin? He’s dating Levi.”

Everyone freezes, staring at her. “...What?”

“Who the fuck is Levi?” Ymir demands.

“Levi,” Mikasa says, like it’s obvious. “The groundskeeper. The short one.”

He must be the one who found Zofia’s sunglasses. “I had no idea who he was.”

“Kenny is my dad’s cousin. Levi is his nephew,” she explains. “But yes. He’s also Erwin’s boyfriend. Don’t tell anyone about it though, Levi is super private.”

“He just appears out of nowhere sometimes. I was starting to think he was a ghost or something,” says Historia.

Hitch hops happily into her bunk. “Well. Good for them. And good to know I’m not losing my touch.”

-

Even though you really want to, you don’t kiss Marco again in the morning. You settle for a lingering brush of your hands when he brings you another cup of coffee at breakfast. There’s so much warmth in the way he looks at you, but something’s off. He’s jittery, more nervous than the night before.

Keeping your voice low, you lean over and ask, close to his ear, “You want to talk later?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, that would be good.”

You don’t want to scare him, and you’re not trying to rush, but, “Are you ok?”

Under the table, his hand skims your thigh before pulling back. “Yes. I just… Yeah. We should talk.”

“Ok. Meet me during free time?”

“For sure.”

You don’t think Marco would lie to you. Even though you do your best to take him at face value, you can’t help but worry something’s wrong. When you part for group activities, he brushes a few strands of hair from the back of your neck lightly with his fingertips, like he wants to touch you but he’s afraid. It’s reassuring, but a knot settles in your stomach as you lead your campers to music class.

In the lodge, where Nifa teaches her sessions, she carries around a box of small instruments and noisemakers: maracas, kazoos, sandpaper blocks to rub and clap together. No matter how many times you tell 20 kids to wait until they’re told to play, the temptation is too great. They can’t manage to be quiet while she gives directions.

Jean retrieves his acoustic guitar from the cabin to play along, and you tap on a mini tambourine while Nifa teaches some basic rhythms to fit the songs the kids already know. When the campers reach the limit of their ability to pay attention, Jean offers to take some song requests so everyone can have a little break.

The kids ask for a little bit of everything, from Queen to Post Malone. Zofia requests “the washing machine song” by Mitski, which she claims she heard about from her big sister. You help Jean lead a couple songs before handing the reins back over to Nifa.

To give your ears a rest, the two of you settle onto one of the couches in the corner. Jean strums absentmindedly on his guitar while you fold your legs under you and lean back against the arm of the couch. “Play Wonderwall,” you tease after a short pause.

He snorts but plucks the chord progression quietly anyway, maybe just to prove that (of course) he can. “You doin’ ok today?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why?”

“You’re wringing your hands a lot,” he shrugs. “Usually a sign that something’s bothering you. Just thought I’d ask.”

“How much do you know?”

Jean doesn’t look up from his guitar. “All of it, I think.”

If Marco told anyone what happened, you suspected it would have been Jean. “I’m fine, but it doesn’t seem like he is. Do you know if there’s anything I did–”

“He is absolutely crazy about you, first of all.” Jean doesn’t hesitate, his hands still moving over the guitar strings. “He’s nervous about being able to… please you. Since he doesn’t have much experience.”

“Please me?”

Jean lowers his voice to a mumble. “He’s scared he’s going to be bad at sex.”

“Oh my god. Did he ask you for tips?” You can’t help but tease. It’s an impulse.

Jean shushes you. “It was more like, he knows that you and I used to… so he came to me all freaked out that I was going to be mad if you two got together.”

“And you told him…?”

“That we’re just friends, obviously. And that he doesn’t need my blessing, or whatever.” Jean sighs. “I tried to tell him not to worry, but he won’t relax until he hears it from you.”

“I mean, of course I’m gonna tell him the same thing. Even if he doesn’t want to–”

Jean cuts you off again. “Oh, he wants to.”

Your heart rushes. The anticipation may actually kill you. “Thank you for talking to him. I hope it hasn’t been too awkward.”

Jean rolls his eyes, overdramatic. “How could I not be happy about two of my best friends dating each other.” It’s not a question. “Meanwhile, I’m just a perpetual third wheel.”

You nudge him with your foot. “Come on, it’s not like that.”

He mutes the guitar with his palm. “Last night, I caught Eren and Mikasa fucking in a canoe.”

You slap a hand over your mouth, muffling the strangled, dying animal sound that escapes anyway. “I knew it,” you whisper-scream. “I KNEW it!”

Jean stares at you, deadpan.

You tilt your head, pitying. “I’m sorry. I know you were really hoping–”

“It’s fine. She’s not into me. I’ll get over it. I accept that I’m having a celibate summer.”

“Maybe Pock and Reiner would let you–”

“What, watch?”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“I’d rather third wheel Jaeger than witness Reiner finding himself, thanks.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Jean chokes on a laugh. “You’re right, what am I saying?”

-

The afternoon sun is sweltering, the air humid and sticky after a brief rain shower during lunch. It’s too hot to sit in the cabin, even with the fans on, but the air conditioning of the mess hall is far too public for the conversation you’re about to have. Instead, you and Marco claim a porch swing on the upper deck of the lodge, nestled in the far corner where nobody can sneak up on you.

Marco’s long legs reach the floor, and he uses them to rock the swing slowly back and forth. He reaches over for your hand, wrapping his own around it in your lap. You stroke the back of his knuckles while you talk, marveling at how comfortable it is to touch him. It’s like you’ve known him forever, even though it’s only been a couple weeks.

While you could just sit there with him for hours, you know you only have so much time. “I want to be abundantly clear,” you begin. “I really like you. I have for a while.”

Marco exhales. “Doesn’t it bother you that I’ve never dated anyone before? Or that I’ve never slept with anyone?”

“Not at all. I like every part of you, Marco.” You give his hand a squeeze, feeling a little bashful, but you know this is a conversation you need to have. “In fact, I kind of think it’s sort of hot.”

Marco laughs before he can stop himself. He turns to you, face reddening. “You’re serious?”

You nudge his side with your shoulder. “Yes. I mean, I would still like you even if that weren’t the case. But yeah. You’re sweet, you’re funny, you’re hot.”

“Nobody has ever called me hot before.”

“Now that’s hard to believe. And I’ve thought about it a lot. And… things I want to do with you.”

“No way it’s as much as I’ve thought about you.” He plays with your hands, rubbing your thumb with his own.

You cuddle a little closer, your hip touching his. “But hey. I think it would be good for us to talk about it a little first.” Something occurs to you for the first time. “Was last night your first kiss?”

“No,” Marco chuckles. “There were a few girls in high school, not girlfriends, but I don’t know. Crushes, I guess. I made out with my senior prom date.” Marco glances over your head before he continues.

“She asked me to touch her boobs, so I did. But I basically stopped her when she started trying to unzip my pants. We were at an after-party, behind someone’s barn, and I was scared of getting caught.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” you agree. “Is that the farthest you’ve gone?”

Marco clears his throat. “There was this girl freshman year, Rico. We’d taken a lot of AP classes together, but then she went to a different college. She got in touch when she was in town visiting once, so we went out for dinner and then back to my dorm. We kissed a lot, and she got naked in my bed, but uh.”

You try to help. “But you didn’t go all the way?”

“Yeah.” He goes quiet, gently rocking the swing back and forth with his heels.

“Did something happen?”

He clears his throat again. “It’s embarrassing.”

Your head falls against his shoulder. “I won’t make you tell me, but if there’s something I can do to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen with us—”

“My dick scared her away.”

“You... What?”

Marco sighs. “I got hard, and she got me out of my pants, but when she saw my dick, she changed her mind.”

Your brain short circuits. What could possibly—

“Not anything like… She said it was too big. And I know how that sounds, but I felt like a freak. She just got dressed and left. I don’t blame her or anything. But yeah.”

You squeeze his hand. “That must have been really tough, I’m sorry. But you know, also, some people don’t mind that. Plenty of people like it, actually.”

“So I’ve been led to believe,” Marco chuckles awkwardly. “But the evidence to the contrary… it was hard for me to get over for a long time.”

“I get it. We all have our things. But thank you for telling me. For the record,” you click your tongue. “I am very much ok with that.”

Marco’s cheeks turn an even warmer shade of red.

“Would it make you feel better to know how many guys I’ve been with?”

“Yes,” Marco answers immediately. So he’s definitely been preoccupied.

“Four.” It doesn’t bother you to tell him. And it’s only fair, considering how open he was with you too. 

“The first was this guy, Eld, that I met at a frat party the first week of my freshman year. I was very much exploring all my newfound freedom then. We hooked up a couple times, but it just kind of fizzled out after that.”

“Then there was this guy I worked with at the library. We dated for a while, but the breakup was bad.” You can chuckle about it now, looking back, but, “I had to transfer my work-study to the admissions department to get away from him.”

“Sorry. You’re ok?” Marco asks.

“Yep, it’s fine. Haven’t heard from him in ages.”

“That’s good,” Marco agrees. “And you and Jean?” he asks cautiously.

“Yeah, last summer. But you know we’re just friends now, right?”

Marco sweeps his thumb back and forth across your hand. “Yeah.”

Before he can get too in his head about it, you continue. “And I’ve never told anyone this. But the fourth guy was Moblit.”

Marco’s jaw drops before he can catch it. “Wait, really?”

You nod. “Don’t tell, especially not Hitch, or else everyone will know within minutes,” you laugh. “He doesn’t want people bugging him about it, and I can’t blame him. But yeah, we used to hook up in the chapel.” Secluded in the woods, the chapel is off one of the hiking trails and apparently used by some church camps here during the year. Somehow, nobody ever found out, but you want Marco to know everything.

You tell him how despite his general demeanor, you’d made quick friends with Moblit last summer, and inevitably, the two of you became closer and closer until the tension burst. You could match his sarcasm, and he started giving you rides in the staff golf cart whenever you crossed paths. Those turned into little joyrides late at night, when the campers were asleep and you weaseled out of card games or ghost stories with your friends.

The night you ended up at the chapel, you sat together for hours by torchlight just talking. Things got a little deep—he was hung up on Hange, who was either too oblivious to notice or knew everything and just wanted to make him squirm. Meanwhile, you were becoming aware that Jean was much more in love with you than you were with him. After baring your hearts to one another, it was easy to let him pull you into his lap and get some frustration out of your systems.

Moblit made it very clear: you were just friends with some very satisfying physical benefits, and you were fine with that. There was perhaps a second in time where you thought it was a shame—he was the best you’d ever had, every time—but it was also clear that the two of you weren’t truly compatible. You couldn’t date him; you liked picking on him too much.

For a few seconds, Marco is quiet. Just as you start to worry, a smirk pulls at his lips. “Ok, now that’s pretty hot. And impressively mature. But the secret is safe with me.”

“Good, it better be. Or else Mobs would kill me and you’d never find my body.”

“Understood. Speaking of, I saw Hitch heading down the trail with Zeke today. Do you think—?”

“Yes. I think it’s exactly what it looks like.” Erwin is taken, and she’s found her next mark.

Marco’s brows arch. “You don’t say?”

You give him a nudge. “Ok, Gossip Girl. I thought we were here to talk about us.”

“You’re right, sorry, sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You curl your hand into his shirt, wanting to be as close to him as you practically can be. Though you feel you’ve pretty much covered everything, you still have to ask, “So if you’re feeling a little better, and you want to find some time together, I also want… that. You.”

Marco inhales so hard, he coughs. “Um. Yeah. I do. But I know we should be kind of strategic about where and when. And I’m not going to lie, I’m really nervous. I might need you to… teach me.”

Your stomach flutters. “I don’t think you understand how hot that is,” you whisper.

“I really don’t. But I guess if it’s working…” Marco lets go of your hand to rub the back of his neck.

You press a kiss to his burning cheek. “Maybe tomorrow. Just give me a little time to arrange some stuff.” You have an idea, and someone claiming to be your wingwoman who better be ready to make good on her word.

Some kids race by on the lower deck, their feet pounding the old wooden boards. Gabi chases Falco out to the tetherball court, shouting after him about how she’s going to win every match.

You clear your throat. “One more thing. You did buy the condoms, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, good,” you sigh. “I really didn’t want to go ask Bert for some.”

Marco sputters a laugh. “I think that would honestly be worse for him that it would be for you.”

You double over into Marco’s lap, both of you giggling, happy, clinging to each other, not wanting to let go.

-

There‘s a nearly full moon hanging in the sky, and the air is balmy and warm, even for after sunset. On top of that, the Galliards have been talked into sticking around for the night. Everything quickly falls into place for a night swim—the first of the season.

After the evening campfire, all the campers are sent to bed, and the rest of you rush back to your cabins to change. Towels in hand, you all tromp down to the lake to splash under the stars.

Marcel leads the way. “Listen, I know you’re not kids, but don’t go in far enough that the water is over your heads. There’s not enough light down here, and you have to be careful.”

Ymir gives a salute. “Got it, dad.”

“Could you not?”

And they’re bickering again.

As you near the shore, you just barely notice some silhouettes in the water. Two people, you think, too big to be campers, one particularly tall. Miche and Zeke are with you, which leaves—

You gasp and grab Hitch by the wrist. “Look.” She slaps a hand over her mouth to keep from shrieking.

Against his word, Erwin is in the lake up to his waist, where Levi is wrapped around him, arms thrown over his shoulders as they wade together. 

Miche whistles, and they snap apart, both darting for shore on the far side of the dock.

You smack his arm with the back of your hand. “Why are you the way that you are?” 

He blows air through his lips. “Psh. They’re fine. And trust me, they’re not good at keeping their own secret anyway. Just the other day I went out to the shed for a broom, and they were—“

“Spare me,” Zeke says before letting his palm fall to the small of Hitch’s back.

Miche gives him a glare that makes you wonder why it’s warranted.

As soon as your toes dip into the lake, you can understand what drew Levi and Erwin here for some alone time. The water seems to sparkle, the way it reflects the stars out here, the sky ironically bright in the relative darkness of the mountainside. Even with chatter and splashing all around you, it’s easy to feel alone but peaceful.

A light wind blows ripples across the water, but mostly, it’s all still. You glance behind you—Mikasa sits with Eren at the shoreline, only their legs in the water. Zeke carries Hitch on his back, her feet kicking in delight. Reiner and Porco see who can hold a handstand the longest before playing with each other’s hands while Ymir and Historia assume basically the same position Erwin and Levi had been in.

Now that you think about it, that didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

Marco was never more than a breath away. You’ve walked out about as far as you could go with your neck still above water, while he’s only chest deep. He bends a bit at the knees, reaching for you. You paste yourself to his side, wrapping your legs around the notch in his hip where you fit perfectly. Subtly, he brushes a kiss behind your ear. Once again, if anyone is watching, you don’t really care.

Your body aches for him, but you’ll have to wait just a little longer. For tonight, though, this is enough. In fact, it’s perfect.

➷➷➷➷➷

last || m.list

[password-door-lock]

Mystictober Day 2-- Domestic life/Sweater weather

You visit Saeran in the garden (708 words)

You take care in balancing the warm mug in your hands as you open the back door and make your way out to the garden. The ends of your sweater sleeves serve as little potholders, protecting your skin from the hot ceramic as you walk over to Saeran. He’s clad in his gardening clothes, including a pair of moss-green overalls and a heavy gray sweater that he got second-hand. 

“What are you doing, baby?” You ask, settling yourself into the dry grass beside him. Your light-colored pants may suffer for it, but proximity to your husband far outweighs the cleanliness of your clothes on your list of priorities. 

Despite the weather, Saeran has torn up an entire flower bed, removing the foliage from the annuals that grew there over the summer. “I’m planting tulips,” he explains, holding up a small white orb. “The bulbs need to stay in the soil over the winter to bloom in the spring.”

You try to imagine the flowerbed overtaken by tulips. It’s a nice thought, though it occurs to you, from your limited knowledge, that different colored tulips have different meanings in the language of flowers. “What color are they going to be?” Knowing Saeran, he’s made considerations for floriography while planning his garden. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits, “I asked Mrs. Park at the garden store to give me a variety. That way, it’s like the tulips are talking to us  rather than me planning what they’re going to say.” While you’re processing the weight and implications of this very profound gardening philosophy, your husband takes notice of the mug in your hands. “Did you bring me something, my angel?”

“Hot apple cider,” you report, “I thought you’d like something warm, since it’s so chilly out here.”

Saeran strips off his gardening gloves and carefully takes the mug by the handle. “Yes, thank you, my love. You know me so well.”

You lean over to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Of course. I can’t wait to see what the tulips look like in the spring.” 

Saeran takes a sip of his drink. “It’s very good,” he assures you, before redirecting his attention back to the garden. “If they don’t get cold enough, they won’t be able to put in their roots. I hope I gave them enough time— but if not, we can plant something else here in the spring.”

“I’m sure it’ll be beautiful either way,” you assure him, “Plus, Mrs. Park helped you, and her garden is almost as good-looking as yours.  I know it’ll turn out well, since the two of you put your heads together.”

“That’s true,” Saeran agrees. Ever since the pair of you moved into your marital home, he’s been friendly with Mrs. Park, the owner of a nearby garden store. You and Saeran have gone over to dinner with Mrs. Park and her husband a few times, and once, you even hosted them at your place.

“Oh, honey, before I forget,” you cut through the moment to address your husband, “Did you have anything to put in the laundry? I’m going to do a load before I start on dinner.” You’ve spent much of the day poring over cookbooks in search of an appropriately festive fall recipe, and you plan to work on one while the clothes are in the machine. 

Saeran considers your question, cheeks heating as he admits, “My brown sweater got a bit muddy yesterday afternoon.” 

“That’s okay,” you assure him. “I’ll throw it in.” You don’t mind washing the mud out of Saeran’s gardening clothes when it’s your turn to do the laundry. After all, he’d do the same for you. “Okay, love— I’d better start dinner. I’ll come out and get you at the fifteen-minute mark.”

You know Saeran dislikes being abruptly dragged away from his hobbies almost as much as he dislikes missing the chance to artfully set the table. “Oh, okay.” He gives your hand a little squeeze, leaving a smudge of the dirt that always manages to collect when he works in the garden, regardless of his gloves. “Please do.” 

You catch his lips in a sweet kiss before rising and returning to the house, sending a flirtatious smile over your shoulder as you go.