#which you think would maybe ease it a little?

[dirtyvulture]

Pandora's Box

Tomb Raider!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Enchantress!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: Natasha has spent years hunting the elusive Pandora’s Box, which many say doesn’t even exist. What happens when she not only finds it, but accidentally unleashes the sinister force hiding within?

Word count: 1736

AN: The people have asked, so I have delivered. Thanks to the anons for inspiring this one. Enjoy! :)

Image courtesy of @natromilf 

“Shit!”

The curse word echoes in the chamber, making Natasha feel like for once she’s not alone. She jumps back, barely in time for the ground beneath her feet to crumble and fall away into the dark abyss. She doesn’t even hear them land, surmising she must be several hundred feet above sea level now. Her path lit by the heavy but powerful headlamp strapped to her forehead, she moves more cautiously now.

“Latvia? Really, Nat?”

“It’s a beautiful country,” she defends, pushing Clint’s legs off the desk where he had his boots resting on her world map. “Besides, Slorenia doesn’t exist anymore. But historians say Latvia is one of the countries that absorbed it after the war in 1624.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little too obvious to search Slorenia or Latvia or whatever the hell it’s called now?” Clint asks. “Surely someone else has already gone looking there.”

“But I haven’t,” Natasha says. While her ego did go to her head sometimes, there was no denying she was one of the greatest archeologists and explorers of the modern day. With her years of research and experience, and a kickass team to support her, few ancient mysteries had stumped her yet.

But this one–the Pandora’s Box, as it was known in the archeological community, had sent Natasha spiraling for years. While the name was inspired from the Greek myth, there was discourse between scholars on how much of the story was rooted in reality. Natasha was deeply fascinated by its rich and dark history, and despite the protests from her team that she was chasing a fairytale, she continued to search for clues and leads.

She was determined to prove its existence and uncover the story behind it. If anyone was qualified to do that, she was.

The cave is humid and wet, but the air is heavy and fresh, as if there were not many living creatures to inhale it. Natasha feels more at ease as she hikes through the cave, marching along at a steady pace and keeping away from the edge of the narrow path that borders a cliffside. 

She’s unsure how deep the cave goes, or if she’ll even find what she’s looking for, but she’s certain she isn’t here by accident. Her teammate Steve had found an obscure news article dating a few years back of three Lativian teenagers who went exploring an unmarked cave, but were spooked out by a woman’s voice begging them to “set her free.” A team of police ventured in, but the cave was simply too large to conduct a proper search in a reasonable amount of time. No woman was ever reported being found in the cave since.

Natasha halts when her beam of light reveals a stone bridge, with a near ten-foot gap in the center. There’s no other way forward besides going back, and she doesn’t want to waste time with that. She tightens the straps of her backpack and practices taking a few large steps, then jumping off her right foot, bunching the muscles in her calf and thigh. 

She has one chance. 

A regular person would just turn back, or maybe use a rope to cross the gap. But not Natasha. She kept herself in superior physical shape for these adventures and had full confidence in her abilities. She goes up to where the bridge ends, peering over the edge for fun, and her stomach flips at the height of the drop. 

She can’t see the bottom.

Adrenaline pumps into her muscles and she mentally steels herself for the jump. She counts back six steps from the edge, taking a deep, calming breath, then runs full-tilt towards the gap. On the sixth step, she launches herself over the abyss, aiming to grab the exposed rebar jutting out like gnarled teeth on the other side. Her gloves protect her hands from scraping, but she stops with more impact than she anticipated and the rebar slips right through her right hand.

Her bodyweight tries to drag her down into the abyss, but she refuses to let it win. Staying calm, she finds a new hold amongst the rubble, shoving at it aggressively before she trusts it to hold her. With both hands now properly anchored, she slowly eases herself up and crawls onto the remains of the bridge, her heart pounding so hard against her chest she can see the visible thumping.

She drinks a few sips of water from her pack before she feels oriented enough to continue, more motivated than ever. 

“It can’t actually exist,” Steve says, sipping from a glass of Coke while Natasha and Clint nurse beers. “I mean, we’re talking about witchcraft. Supernatural stuff. There has never been scientific evidence for it, anywhere in the history of the world.”

“This could be the first then,” Clint says. He was always more of a believer than Steve was, but that was why Natasha liked working with them both. 

Steve shakes his head. “What makes this mystery so different from the others?” He directs his question to Natasha. “You’ve spent years looking for Pandora’s Box. I’ve seen you pass over cases in just a few months because you don’t think it’s worth pursuing. What makes this one different?”

Natasha stares into her beer as the white foam melts away. She wants to give him an articulate answer, but the truth is, she doesn’t really know. She was a second-year student in college when she was first introduced to Pandora’s Box, and had been intrigued ever since. Did it hold the solution to world peace, or was it just another instrument of destruction?

Natasha’s legs are heavy from the effort of an additional hour-long hike since she jumped across the gap in the bridge. She stops only to refuel with some protein bars and more water. She doesn’t know how much longer she should go on for until it’s time to turn back. As much as she’d like to, she can’t explore this cave forever. 

She comes to a fork in the path and contemplates her decision. The right path is open, and leads around a bend she can’t see after a hundred feet. The left path is covered by a rock ceiling barely above her own height.

“Go left.”

Natasha obeys the voice in her head without further hesitation. 

“They called her the Enchantress,” Clint reads from the textbook. “That much scholars can agree on. Everything else is pretty much up for debate. Some say that she could fly, move objects with her mind, or even tell other people what to do.” 

“All nonsense,” Steve dismisses. “No human being can do any of those things.”

“They never said she was human,” Natasha points out.

“Then what else could she be?” Steve asks. “A god? A witch?”

“An enchantress,” Clint repeats, slapping his hand on the textbook for emphasis.

“No such thing,” Steve insists. “She was just some poor kid who got killed in the war, and then the locals made up stories about her to scare invaders. And future historians, because no one can seem to agree on what really happened or where she ended up.”

Natasha clicks her tongue; she hates it when Steve simplifies the facts, even if they are accurate. But that isn’t the whole truth and they both know it. Natasha wants to learn who the “Enchantress” really was and if there was any justification to the horrors that made up her life.   

The narrow path suddenly widens into a large, circular room. In the center, is a pedestal, conveniently highlighted by a ray of sunlight pouring in through a hole in the ceiling. Natasha feels her stomach clench when she eyes a box atop the pedestal, barely bigger than a laptop, wrapped in rusting chains and intricate carvings. She tries approaching with caution, but the pull of curiosity is too great and she rushes to the pedestal for a closer look. The box is made of wood, the chains metal, and the engravings are painted over with gold.  

Natasha has enough sense to survey the room for any hidden doors, windows, or even people, before she touches the box, but she seems to be alone. She picks up the box delicately, wondering if the transfer of its weight will set off a trap. 

Nothing happens.

Tucking it against her chest, Natasha notes it’s not as heavy as she thought it would be, but the significance of what it might hold weighs like a metric ton on her mind. She steps away from the pedestal, and feels a tile depress under her foot.

A volley of rusty arrows shoot out of the wall from either side of her. A sharp pain radiates from her left thigh and her leg buckles. She throws her arms out to brace her fall and watches with immediate regret as the box tumbles to the floor faster than she can catch it. 

The box lands on a corner and Natasha hears the wood crack. The chains might as well have been for show at the way they disintegrate and the lid flies open. A blinding light white fills the room and Natasha curls into a ball on the ground, her eyes squeezed shut.

“Enchantress.” Natasha hears a soft whisper, so faint she thinks she’s imagined it. She’s too scared to open her eyes and curls up tighter. 

“Pretty little thing,” the voice says, with a slight accent she can’t place. “Thank you.”

Natasha swears a hand, solid and hot, presses against her cheek for a moment, leaving her skin burning. Then the white light extinguishes as suddenly as it appeared. She hesitantly cracks one eye open, then the other.

She’s still alone in the dark, damp room. Blood soaks her pant leg where the arrow tore through her flesh. The box lays open, empty, next to her. She touches her cheek, which is flushed with heat but she’s unsure if it’s from her own blood flow pounding beneath her skin.

The silence feels never-ending as she sits there, staring at the box. She can’t believe she dropped it, but more so that it was completely empty. Or was it? Natasha knows something is wrong, an unexplainable shift in her gut that she can’t interpret in the moment.

She quickly bandages her leg, then reaches for the box, closing it up pointlessly and limping out of the cave.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Just wrote something short to test the waters, so let me know if you'd like me to continue :)

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[bewaryofpity]

IT'S NOW OR NEVER - L. HUGHES

[3.9k] luke was raised a gentleman and by the third date you are worried why he hasn't kissed you yet or three times luke was too scared to kiss you and one time you took matters into your own hands.

warnings: none ! this is so corny; unedited

.

1.

When Luke asked you out on a date, you were expecting something more traditional for a first date — a movie, maybe a dinner in a cute restaurant, even just a cafe date. But this?

“A baking class?” You couldn’t help but mutter to yourself this morning, eyebrows furrowed as you reread Luke's text. It had taken him a lot of courage to ask for your number a few nights ago, his awkward stance endearing, and he seemed like a guy who would choose a more practical option. Maybe you took his shy personality for granted.

Now, standing in the intimate studio filled with the hum of conversation from other couples gathered around their cooking stations, you weren’t sure what to think. It made you laugh a little because everyone around you already seemed to be a couple, and you and Luke were not… yet.

“Thought it might be fun. I hope you’re ready to be amazed by my baking expertise.” He smirked, his voice playful as he was standing by one of the sleek stainless-steel countertops beside you, finishing tying his apron.

You glanced at him with a smile. He was already rolling up his sleeves and looking at the recipe card in front of him with determination. There was something sweet about how out of his element he looked and you had a feeling his “baking expertise” was going to be revealed as a lie very soon.

The instructor introduced the recipe for a lemon tart which was slightly more challenging than you expected for a beginner’s class. Soon, you took the lead, carefully mixing the dough for the crust while Luke squeezed fresh lemons, their tart aroma filling the air. When it came time to roll out the dough, Luke tried to help, but the dough stuck to the rolling pin and tore when he tried to lift it into the pan. 

“Let me show you,” you said, after noticing his frustration, your tone gentle but amused. You guided his hands, showing him how to roll evenly and use a bit of flour to keep things smooth. Luke nodded along your words as you explained your moves, but he was more focused on the way your fingers brushed his than on the technique. 

While the crust baked, you left it up to Luke to make the filling. He whisked eggs and sugar with ease, his biceps peeking through his sweater, while you worked on zesting lemons and occasionally stealing glances at his cute concentrated face, though his arms were really distracting.

The filling came together quite nicely for your first attempt. It was a sunny yellow mixture that smelled like summer, and when it was time to pour it into the crust, you handed Luke the bowl so you could spread the filling evenly. The tart was finally ready and you placed it gently into the oven, before you started cleaning up your station, working side by side with an easy rhythm.

It wasn’t long before you dished the tart to start decorating it. As you reached for the thin slices of lemon to arrange them on top, Luke gently ushered your hand away.

“Leave the decorating up to me.” He said with a grin. You raised an eyebrow but stepped back, curious to see what he’d come up with. He placed the lemon slices with a deliberate precision that made you smile, adding sprigs of mint and finishing it off with a dusting of powdered sugar. He did have some baking expertise after all, you thought.

By the end of the class, the instructor encouraged everyone to take a bite of their creations, and you and Luke found yourselves amazed by your work. The crust was buttery and crisp, the filling perfectly balanced between tart and sweet. Your eyes widened at the first bite, and Luke couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride.

“This is actually pretty good.” You admitted. Luke grinned, savoring his own bite and the way your amusement seemed to radiate off something so simple.

You bid your goodbyes to the instructor on your way out, taking the leftover tart with you, leaving half to Luke. 

“Thank you for tonight. I had a really good time.”

“Me too,” he said with a smile. “Where did you park?”

“Oh, I took a cab here.”

“I’ll drive you home then, if that’s okay with you.” 

You tried to wave him off, not wanting to bother him since it was getting late already and you knew he had practice the next morning. But he insisted, and you didn’t have it in your heart to say no one more time, not when he gave you those puppy eyes.

The drive back to your apartment was quiet, the radio playing softly in the background. When he halted the car at the stoplight, Luke stole a glance at you as you gazed out the window, your profile illuminated by the streetlights. You looked peaceful, yet he wished he knew what was going on in your head, because turmoil had started to rise in his. Doubts started to cloud his thoughts, what ifs and maybes worried him, and he truly couldn’t mess this up because he already knew you were the woman of his dreams.

When you pulled up in front of your building, Luke turned off the engine and hesitated. He wanted to say something meaningful, something that would let you know how much he’d enjoyed the evening, but the words felt clumsy even in his head. You unbuckled your seatbelt and turned to him, your expression expectant but soft.

“Thank you.” You said softly.

“Don’t worry about it.” 

He wanted to reach for your hand, to bridge the small space between you, but his fingers stayed gripping the steering wheel. You lingered for a moment, your gaze dipping to his mouth and then back up to his eyes. He felt the air shift, a subtle invitation, but his nerves got the better of him.

“Goodnight,” he said instead, his voice steady but quieter than before. You blinked, a flicker of something unreadable crossing your face, and then you smiled, small but sincere.

“Goodnight, Luke.” You said as you stepped out of the car. He waited until you’d reached your door and waved at you before driving away, his chest tight with both satisfaction and regret.

Inside your apartment, you set down the box of leftover tart and leaned against the door. The evening had been lovely, better than you’d expected, really. Luke had been sweet and playful, your laughter easy and unforced, which was a rare occurrence after many past failed dates with other men. But as you replayed the moment in the car, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. You’d wanted him to kiss you, you felt the possibility hovering between you, but nothing happened and maybe you read this all wrong.

Still, you reminded yourself that first dates were just testing the waters, the first step towards something more and if your intuition about Luke was right, then there was nothing to worry about. After all, the best things were worth waiting for. 

2.

A message asking you for a second date came much sooner than you expected. You were looking forward to seeing Luke again, but hockey kept him busy and you were stuck with texting, which was fine, except for the fact that you missed him a lot. 

After the baking class, you had spent days replaying moments in your head — the way he smiled at you, the way he hesitated when he dropped you off. Something about him intrigued you, and you couldn’t wait to peel back another layer of him.

And that was how you found yourself walking to Central Park on a Tuesday afternoon, the air crisp and golden, autumn leaves falling delicately from the trees. Luke stood by the entrance, holding a picnic basket in one hand and a rolled-up blanket in the other. He waved as you approached, his face lighting up in a way that made your heart skip. Oh, this can’t be real, you thought. You loved parks, picnics even more so and how Luke figured that out, you didn’t know. This was just your second date and he had already done more than any guy you ever dated. 

“Hi.” You said shyly.

“Hi! Let’s go before they steal our spot.” He grinned, grabbing at your hand, not really leaving time for conversation. 

You walked together through the path leading towards the open patch of grass, the sounds of the city muffled by the rustle of leaves and the laughter of children playing nearby. 

“This okay?” He asked, spreading out the blanket. He busied himself trying to lay everything nice and neat to calm his nerves, but you could see the flicker of nervousness in his movements.

“It’s perfect.” And you meant it. The secluded spot he brough you to was beneath a sprawling oak tree and it felt like a little world carved out just for the two of you, despite the other couples around you.

Luke unpacked the basket with care and you were stunned by how thoughtful he had been. The sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, the container of pasta salad, fresh fruit, and the small box of cookies, were all things he prepared himself. You could tell, they weren’t perfect, but the fact that he took the time out of his already tight schedule to do something nice for you made your heart flutter.

“You’re really raising the bar here,” you said, taking a seat, legs criss-crossed. “Future dates are going to have a hard time living up to this.”

“Well,” he said, sitting down across from you, “I figured I should go big early on. Keep you interested.”

You giggled, and the sound seemed to relax him. The two of you settled into an easy conversation, eating and talking about everything and nothing. Luke told you about hockey, or at least tried. You weren’t familiar with the sport and what he was explaining didn’t make much sense to you, but he looked too cute to interrupt his nerd moment. You learned he played with his brother on the same team, something he wasn’t expecting on his draft day. You on the other hand, couldn’t say much about your boring 9 to 5 job, but when you mention your love for books, the conversation went lively again after he admitted Harry Potter was the last book he ever read.

“You’re lying!”

“Am not! I just can’t find anything interesting to read.”

Luke leaned back on his elbows, his gaze drifting to the trees overhead. The sun was starting to lower, the afternoon melting into evening, and the golden light deepened into the rich hues of a sunset.

After a while, Luke suggested a walk to stretch your legs, and you strolled along the park’s quieter paths, your shoulders brushing occasionally. When the sun dipped low, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, you both stopped by a small hill to admire its beauty. The city’s skyline stood silhouetted against the glowing horizon, and the moment felt almost too perfect to break with words. He sat beside you, close enough that you could feel his warmth, but he didn’t reach for your hand or lean closer, and his hesitation was endearing but also maddening. 

As the sky darkened, you realized it was time to head back. The walk to your apartment was quiet, but not uncomfortably so, though the silence felt loaded, as if you were both aware of the unspoken undercurrent between you. When you reached your building, Luke paused, his hands in his jacket pockets.

“I had a really great time today.” He said, his voice steady but soft.

“Me too.” You replied, wishing you could find the words to tell him how much. 

The moment stretched and he didn’t move. No leaning in, no reaching out, just the same gentle smile that had greeted you at the park, the same smile he gave you in the car last time. Your eyes never left his, hoping he would see the glimmer of hope on your face.

You hesitated, heart thudding, because if he wasn’t going to take the step, maybe you had to. So, gathering your courage, you leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, letting your lips linger just a second longer than was strictly casual.

“Good luck for tomorrow’s game, Luke.” You whispered, stepping back before you could second-guess yourself. He was surprised, a blush creeping on his ears and mouth hanging slightly open. It made your stomach fill with butterflies, maybe this would finally make him understand your intentions.

“T-Thanks, goodnight.” He finally said, his voice a little lower now. He watched you go, and when you turned to close the door behind you, he was still standing there as if he was rooted to the spot.

Inside, you leaned against the door, lips tight in a smile and your cheeks warm. The kiss hadn’t been bold or dramatic, but it was enough to get your point across, or at least you hoped it was. But for now, you were content to let the memory of the day feed the warmth in your chest.

And maybe, just maybe, the next time he’d finally close the distance.

3.

It wasn’t really a date, or at least that wasn’t the intention, but Luke texted you hours after his game finished with the classic “you up?” text and you ended up in the cold Prudential Center at midnight.

He couldn’t sleep after winning the game, the adrenaline pumping in his body despite his head being tired. He felt a bit ashamed to send such a cringey text, but his fingers moved before he could actually put some thoughts behind his words, and luckily you responded like it was no big deal.

The familiar scent of ice and cold air greeted you as you walked through the quiet halls, no crowds, no buzz of pre-game energy. It was dead silent. It was completely empty, the polished ice gleaming under the bright overhead lights.

“It’s just us?” Your voice echoed slightly.

“Just us.” Luke added, his hands tucked casually into his jacket pockets. “Figured it’d be more fun this way. No pressure, no audience.”

You stared at him, momentarily stunned. The gesture was unexpectedly thoughtful, and it made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t quite prepared for. You mentioned your desire to learn how to skate as soon as he told you he played hockey, but you were too nervous to hit the outdoor rink, not trusting yourself with loads of careless people around you equally as awkward.

“You know I don’t skate.”

“Yeah,” he said, flashing a boyish grin. “I’ll teach you, that’s why we’re here.”

He handed you a pair of skates he borrowed from one of the guys’ girlfriend, and helped you lace them up. His fingers brushed yours as he tightened the laces, sending a shiver up your spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

When you stepped onto the ice, you wobbled immediately, gripping the edge of the rink for dear life. Luke was already gliding effortlessly, his movements smooth and confident. He skated over to you, holding out his hands.

“Trust me.”

Hesitantly, you let go of the barrier and placed your hands in his. His grip was steady, grounding, and he guided you onto the ice with patience, your hands probably squeezing him uncomfortably tight.

“Just take it slow,” he said, moving backward as you shuffled forward. “One foot at a time. You’ve got this.”

And you tried your best though you weren’t doing much work, instead being slowly dragged by Luke’s hands. You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself, your movements awkward and unsteady, but he didn’t seem to mind. He kept his eyes on you, his expression encouraging and soft.

He guided you in a slow circle around the rink, his hands never leaving yours. The cool air nipped at your cheeks, but the warmth of his touch and the sound of his voice kept you focused.

“See? You’re a natural.” He said, his grin teasing.

“You’re doing all the work, Luke.”

“Pff, what? No, I’m not.”

You laughed at his silly remark, your head dropping on his shoulder and resting there. You turned your head to respond, and his gaze caught yours, your breath catching in your throat. His face was just inches from yours, his eyes filled with warmth and intent. The world seemed to narrow, the rink fading away until it was just the two of you, the quiet scrape of your skates the only sound.

Your heart thudded as you slowed to a stop, your hand still in his. His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, and you felt a flicker of hope.

“Hello? Is anyone still here?”

But before you could say or do anything, a voice called out from the edge of the rink. And just like that, the spell shattered, and you stepped back instinctively, the perfect moment slipping away from your fingers. Luke turned his head toward the voice, his jaw tightening slightly.

“Though everyone went home.” He mumbled, his tone even but quieter than before.

Swallowing the lump of disappointment in his throat, he helped you off the ice, steadying you as you stepped onto solid ground. He helped you unlace your skates, his movements were slow as if to buy more time to spend with you.

On the way out, Luke apologized to the staff for the trouble, forgoing a decent excuse as to why he was here. It was obvious anyway.

The drive back to your place was quieter than you’d expected. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it felt heavy. And when he pulled up in front of your apartment, your fingers hesitated before unbuckling your seatbelt. You didn’t want to leave the car without doing something, anything, to push the boundary that seemed to hold him back. But you felt the familiar mix of hope and frustration swirling in your chest, so you let it go.

Once you stepped foot in your apartment, you leaned against the door, your heart still racing. Luke was sweet, thoughtful, and attentive in so many ways, but the question of why he still held back, why he hasn’t kissed you yet lingered in your mind.

You glanced out the window, watching as his car idled for a moment before driving off. The night had been special, probably the best out of the two other dates you had, because it was spontaneous, because he thought of you when he couldn’t fall asleep, because he remembered something you told him in passing. And it was the kind of date that would have been perfect if only he’d closed the distance between you.

You wondered if this was worth it all, if you should instead give up and tell him things aren’t working.

+1

You needed answers. After that night at the rink, you gave yourself a pep talk and mustered all the courage you could find in yourself to finally make a move. So you invited him over, telling him to drive straight to your apartment after his week-long roadie.

He made himself comfortable, changing from his suit into some sweats he had in his duffel bag, and was now sitting beside you on the couch, trying to explain the hockey game in front of you. In all honesty, you couldn’t understand a single thing. You tried watching sometimes, but the rules never stuck.  

“Wait, why has the game stopped?”

“It’s icing.” Oh, of course. “Did you already forget what that is?”

“Yes.”

He threw his head back, a giggle escaping his lips, and you couldn’t help but join him. His eyes crinkled at the corners, the warm light of the room catching the green flecks in his irises, making your heart flutter in a way you couldn’t ignore. You kept your gaze on him, watching as he stretched one arm across the back of the couch. He turned to look at you, catching you staring before you could pretend otherwise.

“You okay?”

You hesitated for a beat, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your hoodie. Here goes nothing.

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

The words tumbled out before you could overthink them, your voice softer than you’d intended. His eyes widened slightly, the smirk fading from his lips as he blinked at you. For a moment, the only sound was the low commentary from the game on TV, but you barely noticed. All your attention was locked on him, on the way his face shifted from surprise to something more unreadable.

“I mean,” you continued quickly, feeling a rush of nerves. “I just... I guess I’m wondering if you’re waiting for a specific moment or if I’m reading this wrong —”

“You’re not reading it wrong.” He interrupted, his voice shaking just slightly. He shifted in his seat, his arm dropping from the back of the couch to rest on his knee. 

“I like you too. I just —” He paused, his gaze flicking to the TV for a second before meeting yours again. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. My mom always told me not to kiss a girl on the first date, but then I felt like it was never the right moment. I wanted it to be special.”

His words made your chest tighten in the best way, a soft warmth blooming under your skin. You hadn’t expected that answer, but it was so him. Thoughtful. A little cautious. Mama’s boy.

You turned towards him, your knees lightly pressing into his thigh. You reached out to place a hand on his own, his skin was warm under your touch, and you could feel the slight tension in his muscles. You looked at him for a long moment, your gaze searching his face when he kept looking at the ground. Then, slowly, a small smile curved your lips. Your hand moved to cover his, your thumb brushing over his knuckles.

“Well then, can I kiss you?”

His head shot up, breath caught in his throat for a moment processing if he heard you right. From the day he met you, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. You were confident but not cocky, quiet but not necessarily shy, attentive and smart. And he was obsessed, to the point he would kiss the ground you walked on.

You smiled at him, your heart feeling like it might burst from how full it was. That was all the encouragement Luke needed. He leaned in slowly, your mouth immediately meeting his halfway, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips finally pressed on yours. His lips were soft, softer than you imagined and you couldn’t get enough. 

Luke kissed you until he couldn’t anymore, and when he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours, you were both catching your breath.

“I’m sorry I made you wait.”

“It was worth it.”

He chuckled softly, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You squeezed his hand, still tangled with yours. “Can I kiss you again?”

“Please, stop asking and just do it.”

And so you cupped his jaw to kiss him again, not as long this time but just as breathtaking.

[queenbrucewayne]

Batman Doesn’t Get Sick.

This was definitely a rare occasion. You and Alfred both stood there watching as Bruce was at his computer in the Batcave. Surrounded by tissues, two empty glasses of orange juice and different types of medicine bottles.

“He’s refused to eat the soup I’ve made, insisting it’s just allergies..” Alfred raised an eyebrow, clearly tired from probably dealing with his stubbornness all morning.

“Allergies? You’re kidding..” You watch as he took another pull from the bottle, popping it in his mouth and going back to whatever he was doing.

“I’m almost certain he’ll over dose on vitamin D at this point…” Alfred shook his head in annoyance.

“It’s okay,” you put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll take it from here. There still some of that soup right?”

“Hot and ready on the stove, good luck.” He said, just before walking back upstairs.

Funny, good luck… you would definitely need it.

Whatever it was Bruce was doing definitely had all his attention, he wasn’t really paying any kind to you at all. It was kinda funny though, seeing him still in his gear without the cowl. His under eyes were darker then normal, and he kept sniffling. Which is probably what resulted in the mountains of issues all around the desk.

“Bruce?”

He didn’t even turn his head to look at you.

“Bruuuce.” You kept going, taking a few steps closer to him.

This time you got right behind his right shoulder, leaning down you wrapped your left arm around his neck…he definitely had a fever.

“Sweetheart.”

He grunted, but it was better then nothing.

“Maybe you should come upstairs, Alfred still has the soup hot, take a break since you’re-“

“I’m not sick.” He cut in.

Oh… so he was being in denial.

“Really? I think the state of your desk would disagree.” You rested your chin on top of his head, moving to wrap your arms around his neck.

He sighed, raising one of his hands and placing it on your forearm. At least he was reacting to you.

“It’s just-“

“Allergies… right”

He turned his head to look at you, clearly not amused. “I’m fine.”

You pulled back from him, raising your hands in surrender. “Okay okay, my apologies. Here I thought the runny nose, droopy eyes, and extra body heat was something other then your charming personality.”

“Y/n..” He had a warning to his tone now.

You turned around to walk upstairs, “I’ll come check on you in a bit, try not to get snot all over the keyboards.”

He rolled his eyes, ignoring you and going back to his computer.

You grabbed a few things from upstairs, a glass of water, Alfreds soup, a cold damp hand towel and a throw blanket. Bruce still had tons of pills downstairs so it was probably best to ease up on the drugs.

Finding him in the same spot you left him, you set the tray down on his desk next to his keyboard. He glanced over at everything, but no attempt to stop what he was doing.

Taking the blanket you slowly started to put it around him, suddenly he grabbed a hold of your right hand stopping you from moving.

"Y/n..." He warned.

"It's just a blanket, it's not a straight jacket."

"This isn't necessary."

"Stop being stubborn."

He looked at you, that adorable grumpy face that he would always pull when he was too tired to argue with you. He loosened his grip and just let you continue.

"Thank you." You said, placing the blanket around his shoulders. "What are you working on?"

He glanced at you for a moment, seeming too hesitate before answering. "A case Gordan is working on."

"So this is what's got you so busy lately... What's it about?" You asked, seeing he was still giving you suspicious glances, but continued explaining the details.

At some point while he was talking you casually started running your hand throughout his hair. It gave you the opportunity to slip your hand pass his forehead, which was still warm.

Reaching over to grab the cold damp hand towel, you pull his messy hair back just a bit to show his forehead. Placing it gently on top you smiled as you heard a little sigh of relief come from him.

“Hey, maybe you should change out of your gear, I can run upstairs and bring some sweatpants and a T-shirt.” You pulled back from him, but he quickly took ahold of your waist, moving you to be sat across his lap.

“I know what you’re doing darling, and I’m not fond of it.” He leaned forward to talk in her ear. “I’m not sick, I don’t need soup, I don’t need anything. And I can’t go change, I might go out tonight.”

You eyes widened, taking a hold of his chin you made him face you. “You are not going out tonight, absolutely not in your condition.”

“Y/n… I said might, I’m not even sure myself yet if I need to but-“

“Why? So you can get somebody killed?”

He frowned at you, “Where did that come from?”

You sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder you started to play with the hair on the back of his neck. “You got shot last week…. You didn’t even let yourself recover from that.”

“Alfred told you…”

“Of course he did!” You looked up at him, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t like to worry you.”

You rolled your eyes, sitting up to try and get off his lap. He pulled you back to him this time with your back facing him.

“I worry anyways Bruce, I will always worry.” You Leaned back into his chest further. “You tend to forget you’re human sometimes.”

“I always come back to you.”

“Until the day you don’t…”

You felt his grip on you tense, knowing you probably stuck a nerve.

This was a back and forth conversation you two would have every so often, normally it wouldn’t lead to anywhere but Bruce would try his best to avoid it all together by not telling you if he was seriously injured.

“Alright, I’ll give it another day, now hand me that soup, it smells good.”

You smiled, sliding off his lap and handing over Alfred’s soup. “Here, it’s still hot.”

He nodded, taking the first bite and feeling the soothing feeling of it going down his throat. It didn’t occur to him that this was exactly what he needed. This reminded him of when he was a kid, Alfred would bring him soup and talk to him till he fell asleep.

Bruce glanced over to see you staring at him, your arm holding up your head with a soft smile on your face.

"What?"

"You look the most laid back that I've seen you all week."

“Alfred’s cooking… it makes me feel.. at ease I suppose.”

You nodded, “He has that affect on people.”

“I probably should apologize for giving him a hard time earlier.”

Your eyes widened, “wow, you must really not be feeling well.”

“Shut up.”

You laughed, taking his empty bowl from him, “here, take these pills and try to make your way upstairs at some point tonight please. You could use a shower.” You teased, taking the tray to start your way upstairs.

Bruce quickly reached out his hand and gripped your arm to stop you. "Y/n."

You looked down at him, "Yes?"

"Thank you..."

"Always... Can't have the batman out of the game for too long." Leaning down to kiss the top of his head, you made your leave.

When you made your way to the elevator you saw Alfred was standing there, waiting for you. "A warm bath will be ready soon."

"You think he'll actually listen and come upstairs?"

"I believe he would do it to make you happy. He's stubborn, however when he knows you're upset with him, he tends to be a bit more compliant" Alfred took the tray from your hands. "You get yourself ready for bed, I have no doubt he will be joining you soon."

Nodding, you made your way upstairs, smiling to yourself when you just saw him start to stand up and shut off the laptop.

@christianbalefanatic

[luvvictoria]

Hiiiiiii!! I’m sorry if this request sounds skrunkly but could you write 141 squad guys who are low key clones of original squad (which died in one of the missions) but have teeth of Mileena from mortal kombat and the reader is the scientist who has created them >:3 Thankies in advance >3<

That’s such a wicked idea — cloning TF141 but giving them Mileena’s teeth is crazy in the best way. The mix of science horror, a poly relationship, and a little spice? I’m all over it. You want it to have an unsettling but intimate vibe, right? Like, the reader created them, but now she’s theirs, in a possessive, eerie, yet tempting way?

I’m thinking something like:

They remember things they shouldn’t—fragments of the original squad’s lives.

They feel obsessive toward their creator, like they were designed to crave her.

Their mouths are a secret—until they show her what they can do.

Maybe she didn’t expect them to desire her this much, but now there’s no way out.

LET ME COOK !!!

Ghost (Simon Riley) – The Shadow That Haunts You

Moves in absolute silence, watching you from the edges of the room even when you think you're alone.

Knows things he shouldn't—your scent, the pattern of your breathing when you're anxious, how your pulse flutters when he's too close.

Keeps his mask on around others, but around you? He likes when you see his mouth, the nightmare you created.

Enjoys the way you pretend to fear his teeth but shudder when he gets too close.

“You flinch when I touch you, yet you never tell me to stop. Why, love? Is it because deep down... you want to see how far I’ll go?”

Would drag you into his lap just to feel you tremble, pressing his lips to your throat, teeth just grazing—never biting. Not yet.

Soap (Johnny MacTavish) – The One That Smiles Too Wide

The charmer of the group, but there’s a cruel edge to his sweetness. His grins are too wide, too sharp, all teeth.

Loves to make you nervous, backing you against a wall, leaning in, whispering things you shouldn’t like.

“Ye made us tae kill, bonnie. But we were born tae worship ye.”

Has zero sense of personal space—likes to press his chest against your back while you work, his breath hot at your ear.

Will lick the blood off his blades slowly, knowing you’re watching. “Bet ye think about it, don’t ye? What this mouth could do.”

When he finally gets to kiss you? He groans, deep and animalistic, like he’s been starving for the taste of you.

Gaz (Kyle Garrick) – The Soft-Spoken Predator

Quietly the most dangerous—he doesn’t need to threaten. His patience is unsettling.

Always watching, eyes too warm, too knowing. He enjoys watching you squirm under his gaze.

Calls you “love” in a way that should be affectionate, but somehow it’s possession, a claim.

“You say you fear us, but I see how you look at me when you think I’m not watching.”

Runs a gloved finger down your lips, thumb brushing over your lower lip. “Would you let me?”

He’s the one who eases you into it, drawing you into their orbit until you don’t even realize you’re theirs.

Price – The Commander Who Owns You

The leader of them all, the one who keeps the others in line—but he’s no better. He’s just more patient about his obsession.

Gravely voice at your ear, whispering things you shouldn't crave. “You think you’re in control, love? That you can keep us caged?”

Smokes cigars, and the scent lingers on you because he deliberately stands close enough for it to cling.

Doesn’t need to threaten. Just gives you a look—one that makes your stomach flip, one that tells you there’s no way out.

“You made us, darling. And I’m the one who decides what happens to you now.”

Lets the others crowd you, corner you, but he’s the one who delivers the final command. “Take care of her, boys. But be gentle. She’s ours.”

When he finally kisses you? It’s slow, deep, devastating. He makes sure you feel owned.

The lab was sterile, pristine, cold. A place where life should have been created with precision, not passion. Yet passion had seeped into the cracks of creation. You had made them—Simon, John, Kyle, and Price—perfect clones of the fallen, but twisted. Designed to be stronger, faster, more ruthless. Their scars were synthetic, their memories stitched from scraps of the originals, their hunger... primal. But the worst thing you had given them was their teeth.

You never meant to make them monsters.

"Doctor," Ghost rumbled, stepping closer, his masked face tilted ever so slightly downward. "You're running from us again."

You pressed your back against the cold steel table, fingers trembling as he closed the distance. They all did. Gaz leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes glinting with something unreadable. Soap loomed near the door, his usual easy grin sharper—too sharp. And Price... he was the worst, the way he loomed over you, the way he watched.

"I'm not running," you whispered, pulse betraying you.

"Liar," Soap chuckled, low and dark. "You made us. We're a part of you. We know when you're lying."

Ghost raised his hand, slow, deliberate, and traced a gloved finger along your jaw. The leather was soft, but beneath it, you knew what lay hidden. Those mouths — those teeth. You had crafted them to be efficient killers, but something about them was... alluring. Hypnotic. You should have feared them, but instead, you felt the warmth pooling deep in your stomach.

"Tell me, lass," Soap murmured, his Scottish lilt coiling around you like silk. "Did you make us like this on purpose? So we'd crave you? So we'd need you?"

Your breath hitched as Price’s gloved hands settled on either side of you, caging you between his massive frame and the table. His voice was thick with something dark, something hungry. "She didn't think we'd feel this way, did she? Didn't think we’d remember her touch even when she wasn’t touching us?"

"We remember everything," Ghost confirmed. "The way you looked at us in those tanks. The way your hands lingered when you checked our vitals. The way your breath caught when you saw what we were."

Gaz finally moved, stepping in beside Soap, trapping you completely. "You're ours, love. You made us. And we take care of what's ours."

You opened your mouth to argue—to protest—to tell them this wasn't right—but then Ghost leaned in, his mask brushing your cheek as he whispered,

"Say the word, and we'll show you exactly what these mouths were made for."

[ajarofbees]

wanted to marinate on this one for a bit!

feefee ends up traveling around, knight-errant style, helping out where he can and kind of following rumors of trouble. if wyll baldur's gate 3 ravenguard existed in thedas, fiore would have a Cool Wyll Poster he would look at for motivation. probably would end up with some of them less stringent factions--maybe the lords or veil jumpers. he would absolutely try to help out the shadow dragons, but his over enthusiasm, untempered by months with varric and harding, probably ends up with him messing up an operation like mercar rook (lol). rook would catch wind of a 'lone grey warden' who was 'traveling around in the wilderness' and 'helping out common folk' and harding immediately develops a tick in her eye remembering blackwall's shenanigans. and then BAM. new little brother.

i think the main difference between rook!fiore and non-rook!fiore is as rook, he gets somewhat eased into the darker sides of things with a support system--varric and harding, and then rest of the gang--which also tempers his habit of idolizing his own heroes and creating his own blindspots with his beliefs. non-rook fiore gets a crash course in being a wandering hero--hes not totally caught flatfooted but its definitely a different learning experience than having friends around to help you. it probably makes him seem a little bit more desperate to prove himself as a hero and protector, and cling a little harder onto his idealism. dig in his heels a little more about it.

the other obvious big difference is how he would react to solas if he wasnt rook. as rook, he gets varric and harding's perspectives, he sees the regret memories, he talks to the inquisitor, hears the evanuris talk and also talks to solas. not to mention he would find out solas' connection to the events of inquisiton (ie, the near destruction of wycome particularly), the whole deal with varric, and all that jazz. it makes a pretty complicated relationship! pity, anger, all sorts of stuff.

non-rook fiore doesnt get that end, and depending on if he joins as a member of the veilguard or is an ally, he might not get the full picture. he would probably err more to righteous anger then, but also (without really realizing it) flatten solas into a mustache twirling villain as well. which is, you know (makes a wiggley hand gesture).

all in all, he wouldnt change /that/ much if he wasnt rook, but enough to be noticable. very fun to think about!

Rook Introduction Hour 2/7/25

Good morning, Veilguardians!✨ Hope your Friday is off to a beautiful start!

How it works: I ask you a question about your Rook(s) and you answer it with as much brevity or verbosity as you desire. You can do this whenever you want, and I’ll reblog it + add some comments! There’s no time limit— if you want to do the older ones, they are collected here! (The post is updated on Fridays!)

Today's Question(s): If your Rook had not been recruited by Varric after they were exiled from their faction, what would they have done? How would they have reacted to the events of the game if they weren't in a position to influence them? Would they have tried to go back to their faction? Would they have joined another? Would they have attempted to combat the gods alone?

Answer as much or as little as you like! Have fun, and thanks for sharing!

[stupidlittlespirit]

ough yes to Ford probably not being a cologne-wearer, nothing sexier than enjoying your partners' natural scent although I have been thinking, since it's kind of canon/people LOVE to bring it up, that Ford doesn't shower and me, a shower-every-night girly is like "So? I'll just make him shower we can even shower together :3c" which then got me thinking like. you love his natural scent but like at a certain point, it's been a couple of days dude, you are getting into the fuckin bath and you drag him into the bathroom with some resistance but he let's you undress him and he watches intently as you undress as well and you gotta push him into the shower a little but the minute you start washing his hair he completely melts into putty and you can do whatever you want, run your soapy hands over his body, tease him a little maybe and then you go to wash yourself and he takes the shampoo from you and starts returning the favor and OUGH...Ford soaping you up with his big, six-fingered hands and then he picks you up and fucks you against the shower wall... ..goddamn it you know what I guess I gotta write this fic myself

Not to out myself here or anything but.......I just know he smells like days old sweat and that does something unspeakable to me.

I've actually just been hit with the memory of this CEO guy who tried to schedule a paid date with me a long time ago, and he specified that he HAD to have access to my armpits at all times. He needed to be able to take me off somewhere private to smell them and I wasn't allowed to shower beforehand sdhjhjasfhjsf. I did not go on that date, but mostly because he was cheap. There were other reasons that I won't go into but....

Anyway I digress.

There's something super intimate about bathing together. Hair washing, too. It's a very loving activity to me because it directly shows great care for the other person. It does in terms of self care, too.

I think especially with Ford, he's liable to avoid showering both because of work but also he tends to neglect himself (I believe) due to poor mental health. I kind of side eye people when they laugh about how he got kicked out of the library that one time or whatever because he smelled so bad, because it's like, yeah, a lot of people with depression or those under great stress don't really shower much. It's pretty well known. The only reason I shower when my depression is bad is because I have OCD lol, they cancel each other out, but I think Ford just sort of forgot to take care of himself during that time. He was literally going mad.

In terms of Post-Portal!Ford though, encouraging him to bathe/shower by doing it with him would be good for him. It's like a reward. He does need to look after his health at some point, regardless of whether or not sweaty smells are hot. Removing sex from the equation for a moment; if he showers, he gets to be touched/receives intimacy for his efforts, and that's a big motivator. His partner can take care of him and that kind of removes a lot of the responsibility and effort from himself. He can give himself over and relax, which means both his mind and his body will benefit.

He can build a ritual around doing it. As you said, the process of undressing, watching a partner undress, and then washing together. Rituals build habit, from my experience.

(nsfw below)

And yeah, shower sex would also be very fun. Again, a reward for doing something good. Ford is definitely someone you have to motivate with more carrot and less stick, and he'd be up for that. I think that experimenting with sensations is fun, too. I don't know why, but I think that wet skin (like the texture of it, the way it slides against another persons) can feel nice. It can be very erotic. Everything moves together with ease and it there's no friction there.

Ford's probably strong enough that he can lift a partner up with ease and balance well enough to maintain that for a while. Or there's just the good ol' from behind position against the wall, to avoid falling over lol.

Sex in the bath is not viable, however. It's dangerous to fuck underwater and Ford is absolutely the kind of guy to tell a partner that and refuse to do it in case they get hurt, bless him. You can get UTIs or other infections from water-based bacteria.

shower sex irl is not fun though imo do not recommend. Did it once, never again. Water is not an internal lubricant and things get uncomfortable very quickly. I believe human arousal is actually water soluble? Not sure.

[glamrockmike]

always talking about how this scene as a struggling and formerly undiagnosed autistic person makes me sick and feral because that feeling is so familiar. this was and is the phrase of my childhood and day to day life. ‘why does everybody always look at me like that?’ like. (wrings mike schmidt out like a sponge) like do you think he even knows the reasons why they’re mad at him or does he just automatically assume everything he does is wrong because that’s the default reaction to his existence? do you think he assumes everybody is mad at him or two degrees away from anger, even when they’re not? do you think he hates himself, even just a little bit, because deep down he believes he must be a bad person to make everybody mad at him and he doesn’t even know the reason why and it’s just become expected all the time for him. like he knows he’ll always be the disappointing son who wasn’t and isn’t enough, for his parents and for his siblings? 

and this scene is funny but maybe the reason he looks so wary and hostile is because he can’t fathom why vanessa, a stranger and a in his mind a cop who would have every right to be suspicious of him, is treating him well and even like a friend, and he’s waiting for her to flip on him and look at him like every other stranger does? he’s closed off and confused because he’s waiting for a mistake that will turn her against him and that her cheeriness is just a test to put him at ease before she turns on him. and vanessa is just being genuinely friendly here, which is her own survival mechanism to a fault, and honestly wants to be a friend to him (her father’s ulterior motives aside, she likes him). while earlier she was kind of grilling him, here she’s playful and trying to connect. but mike is just worried and shaken and waiting for the worst from her.

i have a lot of thoughts about autistic mike schmidt 🫵and you🫵 have to listen to them

[annoyingann]

[...And the supreme god himself appeared first.]

"Pride is a damsel in distress"

(song "Thunder Bringer" – epic the musical)

Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5 (you are here), part 6

TW: mention of death, cruelty and bullying

continuation of posting in chronological order ↓

"Look me in the eyes and tell me, Captain, That you did not just sacrifice six men!" (Song "mutiny" – epic the musical)

13 years, 10 years of war and 3 years at sea. And after so much time of faithful service to the King of Ithaca, the warriors begin to doubt that their captain will not neglect their lives for the sake of returning home. 37 warriors no longer believe in their path, they just want to stay alive, and the captain is somehow too strongly attached to the idea of "home at any cost"

"Then you have forced my hand..."

"How are we supposed to trust you now?" (from "Mutiny")

Eurylochus mutinies on the ship and challenges Odysseus to battle. The captain tries to appeal to his friend for mercy and to accept: "in my place you would have done the same." However, Eurylochus refuses this statement, because every action has consequences and the captain must take responsibility for the decisions he has made.

Odysseus loses consciousness and then finds himself on a completely unfamiliar island, tied to the stone figure of Helios. In front of him sat an exhausted Eurylochus, who looked with hunger at the cows passing by. Eurylochus admits that he can no longer fight his desire. Odysseus tries to reason with his comrade, but he is no longer ready to give up the plan..

"Tell me, Odysseus, If I were to make you choose The lives of your men and crew or your own Why do I think they'd lose?" (Song "Thunder bringer" – epic the musical)

As soon as the warrior touches one of the cows with his sword, the sun suddenly fades and the sky is covered with clouds. The crew, along with the wounded captain, rushes to the ship and sails away from the island, but it is too late. By wounding Helios' cow, they brought upon themselves the curse of the gods.

...And the supreme god himself appeared first.

"... I know"

7 years later, in the palace of the King of Ithaca.

"Cause I'm stuck with your stories, But no clue who you are! And no idea if you're dead or just too far.." (song "Legendary" – epic the musical)

Another 7 years have passed. The potential prince of Ithaca walks around the castle and talks about the fate of the lost king. This year, his mentor and dear friend, the first warrior of the kingdom, will have to conduct trials for all the "worthy candidates".

Warning: from this moment begins ± the original storyline, which is similar to the musical sagas (it was written based on them), but in it the main events are changed because it is difficult for me to adjust the characters to the universe!

"Is your plan to stand around? Cause I suggest you fight back." (Song "Little Wolf" – epic the musical)

The young prince of Ithaca finds himself a victim of oppression from the "worthy". Although he has good knowledge of how to fight and battle, he has trained in this, but still the young man cannot cope with his fear and embarrassment. And the goddess of war and wisdom comes to the aid of the prince

To your attention, Isla Gale as Athena!!

I helped him fight through the war, but

"He had his demons too" (song "we'll be fine" – epic the musical)

Athena tells the young prince about her previous student, whom she abandoned 10 years ago. And even though much time has passed, she still can't let go of the thought that she left him in the middle of the sea without help... Maybe if she helps his loved ones and guides them, she can ease the burden of her conscience

[bloom-into-blue]

ℂ𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕟'𝕥 𝔹𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕕

Summary: a chance meeting, a lucky run in, whatever you wanna call it. There's a gorgeous lady before you and... Thinking is hard. Just feel? Easier said than done.

Contents: just Garofano meeting the reader in her tailor shop! Reader is referred to with feminine gendered terms.

Word count: 1.6k

Author's note: I wanted to put something out as i mentioned before, and honestly, Garofano is one of my favorite ladies... First sfw fic of the blog. Can you believe it? Wild. Anyway, it is currently minutes before Valentine's so this makes sense to my timezone.

To say life has been kind would be a generous statement.

When you wake up, the sky is barely turning into a pale shade of orange and blue hues, though you can barely even notice it when one of your pillows is inexplicably covering half your face. Your neck aches, sore from whatever shitty position you assumed during your sleep. The worst part is that you know you can't linger on this too much, not when there's your university assignments looming in the back of your mind, ever present and ever the pain in the ass.

…Then, as you take your phone to check exactly how long you have until your suffering begins, you realize it.

It's a day before Valentine's.

Your body is so used to the stress of university that it forgot you're currently still on vacation.

It's hard to avoid a small chuckle to yourself, when your worries shift from impossible professor standards to instead focusing on what you'll wear for the party your friends are planning for two weeks from now. Maybe life isn't so unkind, actually, even if the specific look you want is something you can only achieve by commissioning a tailor. The details aren't too worrisome, not when you've saved up enough for it.

Then, your memory jogs again, making your nerves freeze before you’re bolting out of your messy bed, hair equally tousled up.

You've already scheduled a meeting with a seamtress.

It's taking place in two hours.

—-

The first thing that hits you is the smell of carnations, potent as it envelops you the moment you step into the tailor shop.

Then there's the bell that rings above you, which prompts a woman older than you to glance up from her spot at the front desk, eyes kind and a sweet smile ready at a moment's notice. The first thing you can think of is how utterly gorgeous she is. “Welcome, dear,” she greets with ease brought by experience, most likely; even her voice is gorgeous, damn it. “What brings you to my shop?”

You honestly got lost in the sound of her voice, deep and rich, enough so that you forget English is a language you can – and should – speak right about now. “Uh… I came by the other day. ‘Nother lady, like… helped me book an appointment,” you manage to mumble as you take in the woman doing her best to attend to you. You remember the last time you dropped by, when a woman with straight, black hair told you the seamstress in charge wasn't available at the moment, but would be sometime soon, so booking an appointment would be a most excellent choice.

Now, standing in front of a goddess with curly, violet hair, it seems as though you can finally meet the seamstress you've heard so many positive comments about.

The lady before you chuckles as she covers her mouth with her hand, refined as a noble. Christ, how are you going to survive this. “You must be the girl Sumire talked about, then. Come on then; we wouldn't want to take your measurements when the glass outside doesn't shield you,” she prompts kindly, stepping closer and going as far as to set a gentle hand on your back as she guides you to a section of the shop that isn't visible from the outside.

“Y-yeah, thank you, miss…” you trail off, unsure of what to call her.

“Garofano, dear,” she fills the blank with a smooth wave of her hand and a charming smile. You have no idea if she's aware of the effect she's having on your heart or not, she doesn't let on even a little bit! The warmth on your cheeks is probably a dead giveaway to your current state though…

When you arrive at a more secluded area of Garofano’s shop, she doesn't waste a second before grabbing whatever she needs, though… you're not proud to admit the way your eyes take in her figure. For a brief moment, you think you catch her looking at you from the corner of her eye, but as quick as it happens the moment passes, leaving you flustered and trying to tear your gaze away.

Once Garofano finds the measuring tape she was looking for, she turns to you with a smile wide enough that the crow's feet around her eyes are noticeable. God, she's so beautiful– focus. She just spoke.

After waiting for a moment, she seems amused by your puzzled reaction if her velvety chuckle is anything to go by. “I said, take off your coat, dear. I can't measure you well enough if you're all covered up,” she teases softly. Oh god, Garofano's aware and she's fucking with you.

You comply with her instructions in a hurry, left now with just the tight-fitting clothes you were recommended for this appointment. It feels… like you're more vulnerable than before, even though you're still clothed. Perhaps it has something to do with the violet eyes taking in your figure.

Garofano reaches for your hand and guides you gently towards a small podium in the middle of the room, measuring tape in hand and glasses you hadn't seen before atop her head. “Please, tell me if anything I do makes you uncomfortable. I would loathe to make a lady as beautiful as you uneasy,” she murmurs against your ear before carefully unrolling the tape and beginning her work properly. Thank god she moved away, otherwise she would've felt how your ears are almost burning up with how flustered you are.

If nothing else, at least you're going to remember this throughout all of Valentine's day. Her hands feel so gentle… You chastise yourself internally; she's a professional and you're making this weird! You have to stop thinking about how hot the older lady is! When she kneels behind you with a quiet grunt, her hands are ever careful as the tape brushes against your covered leg… No, stop, you're thinking too much!

She probably noticed how tense you are. Garofano's voice is far gentler when she tries to break the ice. “So… I was told you wanted a suit that fit you as comfortably as could be, while also making sure it looked good on you. May I know the occasion, dear?”

At least you can answer that. “Uh… My friends and I are throwing a party? It's supposed to be casual, but some of us insisted on formal wear, and… Well, here you have me,” you explain before ending it with a sheepish chuckle. “Can't really find suits that fit me well enough, y'know?”

Garofano hums quietly, her hands around your waist making you let out the tiniest little breath. “I do know that particular struggle. At least I can help you in this case,” she replies, her hands gently moving to wrap the tape around your waistline. She's behind you, but you can feel the little pauses she takes to jot numbers down, and by god, you wish you could see the way her glasses look atop her nose. When she starts measuring you up again, you could swear she's taking longer than before for whatever reason…

You hope to god you're not making all the tension up.

—-

The measuring is over in about half an hour, and you're sure those thirty minutes of your lifespan evaporated alongside a few years thanks to the intensity of this gay panic.

“It should be ready in about a week, miss. Please, don't hesitate to come to me in case of any concerns you have,” Garofano said with a soft smile, taking off her glasses as she walks you to the front of the shop once more. You were right, the sight was as beautiful as you thought it would be while it lasted.

You realize… maybe you do have one concern.

“Look, you can tell me off if I'm weird about this, please make sure to turn me down if I'm, like, completely off-base here or if I'm being creepy or whatever, I would absolutely understand if you thought I was being too forward, like way too forward actually–”

“Sweetheart,” she cuts you off with a worried frown instead of that lovely smile. “Breathe, please. In… out.”You're out of breath when she calls you out, so with a quiet whine you nod and do as requested, feeling some semblance of composure arrive, so it brings a smile to your face when her lips quirk up in response. “Now, you're welcome to ask whatever it is that's on your mind.”

The reassurance isn't enough by a small margin, but whatever courage you manage to have is slightly emboldened by taking another deep breath. “Ma'am, you're stunning. I… Forgive me if I'm overstepping any lines, I just think– Um… If it's no bother, how would you feel about going out with me?”

You barely have time to process you wouldn't even be able to take her to the fancy sort of restaurant she deserves for a date, not with the shitty pay you get at your job.

It's… it's better to be upfront about that, so you steel your nerves before Garofano can answer, though you do find her surprised expression more than a little adorable, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. She's as gorgeous as she's cute– focus!

“I can't really take you to some five star restaurant… I know it's honestly a pretty bad offer, you should just forget I brought this up.”

Before your spirits can somehow deflate any more, Garofano takes a step forward and the sound of her heels shuts your train of thought down immediately. “Darling,” she begins with a gentle tone and a smile that is equally as sweet, “I don't think of myself as a woman who needs the highest luxuries. You're a beautiful prospect, I will gladly give you that.” The chuckle she gives in response to your flabbergasted expression is worth any sort of embarrassment you could've felt this entire morning. “Perhaps tomorrow could be a good time for our… date?”

The widest smile rises to your lips at the generous offer.

Maybe Valentine's day won't be so boring for a change.

[claraswritings]

Carved with Love

Pairing: Gally x reader

Warning: nothing much, bit of kissing at the end, friends to lovers, it’s short.

Note: This was inspired by the Gally mood board and blurb by @elioas-diel which gave me an idea of a blurb where Gally makes things for the reader and they realise they like each other 🥰

****

The first time Gally made something for you, it had been small, a fix for something that had been bothering you.

You’d made a brief comment that one of the tables in the serving station for food was wonky. Gally had been one table over, sitting with the builders, not really listening to them. He’d been entirely focused on you.

“Why’s Gally staring” you commented to Frypan at the time.

“That’s just Gally.” Your friend and fellow cook had told you. “He stares a lot to try work people out, either that or maybe he wants you to join the builders”

You snorted “Yeah right”

The idea of you joining the builders, usually tall and muscular, had you both laughing and you’d quickly forgotten about the wonky table comment.

The next day, Gally had turned up with an oddly cut small cube and told you “It’s nothing it’s just an off-cut that fit,” he shrugged lifting the table with ease and slotting it under fixing the wonky table in seconds.

A few weeks later it was a shelf for your ingredients in the cooks hut lowered to your height

‘Saves Clint and Jeff the hassle if you fall off that damn stool you stand on again’ Gally had been quick to explain when you’d thanked him again, saying it was perfect. He’d walked off quickly not wanting you to see the blush that was rising up his neck.

****

“I think we’ve discovered Gally’s soft spot” Frypan commented as he spun a spice rack Gally had dropped off earlier. He turned and looked pointedly at you.

“Me?” You pulled a face and pointed at yourself completely incredulous at your friend’s statement. “Why would Gally have a soft spot for me?”

“I dunno but he’s always doing stuff for you.” He added “Never seen him anywhere near here before you arrived but now he’s always hanging around, putting up shelves or building stuff and talking to you.”

“He’s a builder that’s what he does.” You insisted back

“…I don’t think Gally even knew what a spice rack was until he started looking for stuff to make… for you.”

“Come on Fry, he’s just being…nice.”

“Since when did Gally do nice? Remember whatever that little thing was he dropped off two weeks ago”

“The little flower? I was unwell! He was trying to make me feel better” you flushed. It was a little carved sunflower and truth be hold you’d loved it. You’d kept it with you and Frypan had only found out when you’d emptied your pouch looking for something.

“Hang on…what?” Newt who was standing nearby was now interested coming over to join in your conversation. “Gally gave you a little flower?”

“Yeah, a little wooden sunflower.” Frypan said looking pointedly at you “her favourite flower.”

“Gally? Gally of all people…whittled you a little flower?” Minho had over heard your conversation and joined in. The idea of the stubborn, hot-headed keeper of the builders, all broad shoulders and grumpy, making you a wooden flower amused your fellow Gladers.“I think he’s sweet on you” he said and you rolled your eyes

“Shut up, Minho” you playfully pushed him. “He’s just being nice.”

“I don’t see him making a little flower for Zart when he was unwell.” Newt added “also it’s Gally. He does grumpy, stubborn and hot headed. He doesn’t really do nice…”

“Is he your type then?” Minho teased “Do you like them tall and…” he thought of a way to describe their fellow Glader in a neutral way and opted for “brooding” causing Newt and Frypan to laugh.

“Shut up.” You stressed again, ignoring the creeping thoughts in your head.

It would carry on like this. A little heart shaped box (he’d insisted to Newt that it was only shaped like that because ‘girls like that sort of thing’), a vase, and a storage box until it came to his most ambitious project yet.

It was a rocking chair. You’d always liked to sit and watch when it rained in the Glade. It was a quirk Gally had noticed about you and found it weirdly endearing.

When he’d asked why you were sitting on the ground one time, you’d told him you found it relaxing.

“I like watching the rain” you’d said from your dry shelter. “It’s relaxing.”

Gally had been a little unconvinced but when you’d patted the ground next to you, he’d been unable to stop the little flip his stomach did and had tried not to look too eager when he dropped down next to you.

He’d spent two hours just sitting with you and talking and you’d been right. The rain was relaxing…and it had given him the idea.

****

Within the week he’d made you a little rocking chair. It was beautiful. Carved out of wood and polished perfectly, he’d cut out a pattern looping up the arms and along the side of the

“Thank you” you gasped and before you could stop yourself you launched into his arms. He’d caught you on instinct and held on to him tightly. Without thinking, Gally put his arms around you and squeezed, hugging you tightly.

When you pulled back just looked at you a little dazed

“Oh shit… sorry…” you started to apologise and stopped when you realised, one: he wasn’t yelling and two: he’d hugged you back.

“Uh…do that again?” He cleared his throat.

You smirked “you want me to hug you again.”

“Yeah I mean, if you want. It was nice” he tried to brush it off but the blush creeping up his neck gave away his real feelings. He loved it when you complimented his work, it meant more from you and now that you’d hugged him, he felt like he was floating but still didn’t want to push his luck or give away too much.

You moved closer to him, filled with a little more confidence and wrapped your arms around him. Gally pressed you close to him, holding you tight against his chest with one arm as his other hand worked its way into your hair.

As you looked at him, his eyes met yours and said all you needed it to. You pressed on tiptoes, his smile, the one that you’d realised he only ever had around you, giving you the last push of courage you needed.

You pressed your lips to his cheek and before you could pull back he turned his head, catching your lips with his. The kiss started gentle and sweet until he started tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.

Gally scooped you up in one, sitting himself on the chair and placing you in his lap. He broke away only to brush your hair back off your face and pull you in to a more passionate, open mouth second kiss.

“That’s one way to thank me sweetheart” he smirked, although you could see in his eyes, he was only teasing, his tone was soft. “If that’s how you thank me, I think you owe me a few more kisses”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Do I now?” You teased back, your hand tracing his jaw “think you’ve got time now?”

“For you sweetheart? I’ve got all the time in the world” he said moments before he pulled you into another kiss

[confusionism]

Aiden's reveling in the plushness of her lips when he feels the little pinch at his tush. He lets out a little, "Ay!" which melts into easy laughter. His arms wrap around Anna's waist just a smidgen tighter. "I've heard it," he replies quickly, between every spot of affection, "but I like hearing it anyway." That she's happy to be home, most of all, because that's the most important part to him. The rest is a mere bonus, the kind that serves to brighten his expression and solidify the thought that maybe — just maybe — he'll consider doing this more.

"I'm not worried about anything." Clear enough in the way he holds her, firm palms and square shoulders. "Or, well— I might be a little worried about some spring deadlines," the pending shuffles that could probably make or break the team, "but you know what I mean." That through their conversation outside, he feels confident and pleased, and overall good. He slips a hand up to her nape and pulls her into a hug, the warmest-possible manifestation of, "I'm really happy to see you.

"So how long do I have you for?" If he's thinking about 'now,' immediately, he wagers about six more minutes, at most. Plenty for a quick fix of a proper greeting, to tide them over until they're back in Battersea. But surely she knows, it's more, 'how long until the next flight?' This may not be the exact time or place for this discussion, but he figures— what the hell. Cups were never won by only waiting for the 'perfect opening' at the goal; he'll never be able to gush about this romance if he doesn't do anything to foster it.

"Next week's match is out in Brighton." As if she doesn't have Chelsea's calendar bookmarked. It'll be a long day between bus rides and the game itself, but he asks, "Maybe you wanna make a weekend out of it?" His fingertips find the ends of her hair, twirling them slowly and enjoying their softness. "I know it's not really Gold Coast levels of sun and sea, but... They got a pier. Some cool bookshops." He would be remiss not to point out, "—Some hiking trails that are great for training." Leave it to Aiden to find the best, far-from-people options in any place.

Whether it's the classic, Fitz Blitz way of approaching a new challenge, or maybe just him easing in to Anna's ideas, he's bold enough to add, "We could... Ask Bailey and his wife? If they wanna come with us. Maybe."

"I know you do." Anna agrees, understanding even if it's not who she is. She does this sort of work for a reason; Anna's an extrovert at her core. Most comfortable talking to people; old friends or virtual strangers. It makes her feel connected, puts life's stressors in perspective. But that is her, and not him. And in the same way he encourages her to slow down, then Anna thinks it's her prerogative to fan some abundance in his life. As much as is reasonable, anyway.

"Just a little bit. Enough to have a taste of... More." Not a gratuitous amount. Anna doesn't except Aiden to become a social butterfly, with a new dinner companion or party at every turn. Instead; "Someone to talk to about how obsessed you are with me." Coy as anything, and Anna's ego isn't rich enough to think that's the only think he'd talk to a friend about. But surely gushing about a new romance is a universal thing; guy or gal, extrovert or introvert. "Or save you at parties, when Tony and I can't fight immigration."

There's a twist in her stomach, not a bad one per se. But one that touches on a raw nerve that's only just healing. She's shared those worst memories; of not being enough for the person she's with, of worrying that Aiden will wake up and come to the same conclusion. Aiden, in all his directness and observation, catches that in so many subtle words. Hears the unconscious worry that plagues her. That distance and time apart may lead to the same conclusion. "I'm not saying you aren't. I trust you." She feels the need to echo, cheek leaning against the brush of his fingers. Because her neurosis isn't his to manage, no matter how her weakest moments get the best of her. "I don't want you to worry about that."

But if the feeling of worry rises, Aiden snuffs it before it grows larger. She follows him, because where else would she go? A sharp breath in anticipation when she finally gets to be with him. Properly, without a crowd or an ocean between them. Her arms around his shoulders, head tilted just so. Usually, she'd be in heels that helped bring her closer. Instead -- Anna's in her vans, and it's that sort of natural essence that makes it just right. One hand drifting along his back, playfully squeezing the area she's surprised Petra got into couture pants.

"Have I told you how good you look?" She'll say it, again and again, brush against his lips. A small smile of joy and relief, that it is still the same even after all their time apart. "Or how much I've missed you? I'm so happy to be home." Not in this lush space, or even his posh London flat. Rather, being home with him.

[fmhobeus]

fwb!suguru who knew he wanted to fuck when he first laid eyes on you. then wanted to take you out to endless dinners to chat his ears off when he first spoke to you.

fwb!suguru who grew to like you without fucking you, almost forgot it was what he wanted you for – a life together or a night together?

fwb!suguru whose dick got painfully hard when you taunted him, rolled your eyes at him or outwitted him. he lived for your sassiness.

fwb!suguru who happened to fuck you on a random night unexpectedly and it changed the trajectory of his life.

fwb!suguru who stayed after every dick appointment. cuddled with you on the bed, watched movies or your favourite TV show, ordered take out and held you in his arms till you both inevitably fell asleep.

fwb!suguru who couldve sworn he wasn't in love with you. he would still fuck other people (and then come back to you, poor baby was thinking of you the whole time)

fwb!suguru whose grown accustomed to your presence. he calls you when he isn't feeling okay, you call him when something bothers you. he's grown used to you telling him all about work, how you got your nails done, how you saw a cute cat near your apartment. trivial details, which coming from anyone else he would hang up, but he looks forward to them with you.

fwb!suguru who eventually stops fucking other people and is just your man, without you knowing.

fwb!suguru who is determined to mark you up in placed people will notice. your neck, your thighs, your collarbones.

fwb!suguru who believes in giving you his all. all of his long girthy dick that pumps you full it should be criminal, his long slim fingers that have made you orgasm so often and hit that deep spot with unbeat ease, his long tounge... oh god his tounge. he thinks maybe even his long life ahead is yours too, all yours. his little kids too maybe? he doesn't like to think too much about that.

fwb!suguru who has to have your pussy checked with his tounge daily. he has to lap up your insides no matter any circumstances. his voice purrs across your body when he talks you through your orgasm.

"mhmm yeah cum all over my face beautiful, I know you want to"

fwb!suguru who gets sick at the thought of you sitting so pretty for another man when you tell him you're going on a date. suguru who looks so disturbed at the thought of another man even looking at his pretty girl who isn't really his.

fwb!suguru who takes you to corporate events just so he can call you his girlfriend, even if it's just pretend. when you question him it's always "easier explanation than a friend i fuck on the regular, isn't it?"

fwb!suguru who knows how you like your coffee in the morning. he knows what you like for breakfast, your comfort food, your hobbies, your favourite movies, your least favourite movies, your icks, your past. he knows you like he knows himself. he thinks of you when he passes your favourite cafe, he texts you when he sees something in the colour you like.

fwb!suguru who is sure he hasn't felt this way before, who is so vulnerable with you that it scares the shit out of him.

fwb!suguru who is afraid, angered at everything about you. he's angry at how you lull him into a sense of security, how you hold him, how sweet your voice sounds when you call him by his name, how you take care of him, how you listen to him. he hates how your pussy clenches his dick for dear life, milking it dry and how you never let a drop of his cum go to waste, licking it up like a little slut. he's fearful too. about losing you. about where loving you the way he does leads. loving you? wait. he loves you? fuck. fuck. fuck. this hasn't been according to plan at all.

[irndad]

i wish i knew you wanted me - s.r.

a/n: okay this ended up being so so long forgive me!!! i hope you like<3 summary: based loosely on 'bad habit'. spencer got asked out by reader 5 years ago, when he was recovering from his dilaudid addiction, and turned her down. now, he's in love with her, and pining for her. also, jealous!spencer. she fell first, he fell harder. wc: ~2k

She’s very pretty. It’s distracting. Right now, she’s staring intently at his hands, and he feels hot under her gaze. It’s been a while since he’s done this, the little rocket trick, but she’s visiting the office, and Garcia had mentioned he’s a magician. 

“That’s incredible!” She exclaims, a giggle in her laugh, and he feels the swoop of his stomach, the butterflies of it all, “You got them so high up!”

“It’s just physics,” he laughs, meeting her warm gaze. Her smile is one for the ages. 

She’s here dropping off a file. They’ve known eachother a really long time, actually. She was an expert witness for them, once, years ago. She spoke with ease, both on the stand and in person. Equal measure kind and measured, and Spencer had adored her on first glance. They’d met when he was just getting clean from Dilaudid, and Spencer’s been in love with her since not long after than first meeting. That’s pretty much the only thing about her he wishes he could take back. 

He still has a hard time thinking about it, the fact that he met her when he was barely himself. Still, she’d been kind, listened to him talk and let the others tell her that he was…going through something. It was on his two month sobriety date (which she’d had no way of knowing) that she’d asked him out. 

Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he replays the memory in his head. How she works just south of their office, and how they’d meet at the café nearest, and chat for an hour before calling a cab home. 

On the other side of the veil, he can picture that night, years ago now. How she’d looked with the snow kissing her nose, dotting the edges of her faux-fur hood. She’d stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake, and he’d almost combusted and the adorability of it. 

“You look nice,” she’d said, although at the time he’s pretty sure he looked gaunt. He’d only recently started to gain the weight back- but still, her praise felt like stardust. 

“You look nicer,” he’d said back, gently bumping her shoulder as a fond gesture. Her little grin is well-worth how awkward they both look on the street.

“Listen,” she had said, stuffing her hands into her pockets, the size of the coat causing her hands to disapear from sight entirely, “I asked JJ and Morgan, and they said you’re not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, yeah. They love reminding me of that. Not everyone can be like Morgan and have dated half the western hemsiphere.”

He felt embarrassed, her watching him. It’s nice, but sometimes feels like staring into the sun. 

Her chuckle was nervous, not fully reaching her eyes. 

“You okay? 

“Yeah,” she swallowed again, before speaking, “I was wondering, um, if you might want to grab a drink with me?”

“Sure,” he’d replied back, amenably. He couldn’t tell why she looked so nervous, “I can’t really do hard liquor, though. Maybe we can invite the team.”

“No, Spence, I was wondering if you and I could go on a um, a date.”

And he’s frozen. Because this might be the second time he’d ever been asked out, and second, this might be his dream girl. She’s gorgeous and kind and she’s in front of him, asking him out. 

“I um,” his mouth was dry. He’d be a bad boyfriend. He was a recovering drug addict who already was bad at talking to people, and she lit up a room whenever she walked in. She finds him easy to be with, easy to care for and he’s bound to fuck it up. He couldn’t imagine giving that up because he was too greedy to take what he got. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

He almost took it back with incredible speed, with that flash of disapointment on her lovely face, and the knowledge that it’s because she wanted him, before she quickly regained her speech.

“That’s totally alright! We’ll just be good friends, yeah?”

In the here and now, they are friends. Best of, really. And he made the right choice. He’d lashed out at Emily a month later in a withdrawl, and he knows that he’d have done the same to her, and now, she’s still in his life. 

The drawbacks of course, to being her friend, means she has dates. Boyfriends, as well, and he’s been a…friend, through it all. Good friend. She’s never suspeced him of anything more, of course, after he’d categorically rejected it. 

(Even though this rejection plays in his head all the fucking time, like a torturous groundhog day.)

She’s beautiful today, a blue blouse with a scarf lazily around her neck, and the way she’s leaning over his desk to see the  trick before she drops off her analysis. 

“Alright, Spence,” she says, her rose perfume wafting in the air prior to her hopping off the corner, “Did you need anything else? Today is my half-day, and Harry wanted to take me to Art Insititute.”

Harry, is the boy on rotation at the moment. Spencer has no impulse control and a super-computer expert best friend, so Spencer knows that Harry is 6’0 on his Driver’s License, and is a Financial Analyst. Spencer knows from her own mouth that this will be the third date, and that he’s a little boring but she’s attracted to the fact that he was direct and wanted to go out again. 

Low bar, but one Spencer couldn’t even clear. He doesn’t say any of that, though.

“That sounds fun,” he says, instead of saying that he’d love to walk her through the inscriptions on each art piece, love to kiss her in front of something thats’ beauty does not come close to her’s. “Are you thinking it might run long, or are we still doing the bookstore and TV at mine after?”

He’s been looking forward to this all week. He bought special marshmallows for her cocoa. He also htes to imagine her date running long. 

“Nah,” she smiles, “besides, he’s just some guy. You’re Spencer.”

Morgan doesn’t say anything when he looks down at his. paperwork, and scribbles instead of thinking, the best he can. 

________________________________

Don’t think about the fact she was on a date. Don’t think about how Harry might have got to kiss her. Just don’t bring it up. 

“How was the date?”

She shrugged, pulling at the spine of a hardcover novel. 

“It was fine. Like I said, he was kind of boring.”

“So why’d you go out with him again?”

“I dunno, Spence, I just… I want a boyfriend, you know? I want someone to want to be with me.”

She is so beautiful. She laughs with her whole chest, and she listens to his stories and chimes in with her own expertise. She has a voice that seems like it’s spun gold thread, and he’d give anything to kiss her. 

“I get that,” he says, instead of anything he’s thinking. She’s wearing brown lipstick, transfer proof. He’s in love with her. “There’s got to be guys lining up for a girl like you.”

“That’s a nice thought, Spence. Not the ones I’d like.”

___________________________

This thought haunts his evening, and when he parks and they start the walk-up to his apartment, a confession hammering at his throat, a physical urge. She’s giggling at some long physics joke he’d made, and he’s addicted to the soft bell of her laughter.

His apartment is small and lovely, and he enjoys having her in the small and dark of the night, the sun set over what he wishes were two lovers. 

“You are really pretty, you know,” he says, once she’s settled into his chest, a sick satisfaction of knowing Harry got a quick thank you text before she darted over to Spencer’s arms. 

“Thanks, Spencer. You’re a good friend.”

“Why do you always say that?”

“That you’re a good friend?”

“I’m not saying you’re pretty because I’m a good friend. I’m saying it because it’s true, and I enjoy saying true things.” 

“You don’t…I don’t know why you’re saying that, Spencer. We’re friends and I adore you and I’m here right now, but you don’t need to make it harder on me.”

She looks nervous, and a little disapointed. He wants her to know, that even if he’s missed his shot, she’s not going to be alone. He’s gonna spend the rest of his life hating whoever knew to take the best thing offered to him, but Spencer- he knows he is not going to be the last to love her. He grabs her hand without thinking, her doe eyes peering into his with some emotion he can’t pin down. 

“Hey, I’m not trying…to make anything hard for you. I don’t ever want to do that. I just… some day someone’s gonna see you and want to be with you and I’m going to watch it and know it was inevitable.” 

The words taste like barbed wire. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg, I’m ready now. I’ll do it right. 

Is that even true? Is it just that he wants her bad enough he’s willing to risk not doing it right?

“You’re so sweet,” she sobs, and oh, she’s crying. Just a little, but tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You make it so hard to be your friend. And I know that’s my problem, that you’ve always been straight up with me. I asked you out and you said no, and I know that-“

“I know that I was too late, and freaked out about being with someone like you when I was still so fucked up.” they’re so close to eachother, he can smell her chapstick. His chest aches. “Sweetheart, that had nothing to do with you. It was all me. It’s a train I missed that I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wishing I’d caught.”

He feels uncomfortably bare, even in the oversized sweater that she’d gotten him last Christmas, and that he’d pretended had been from his lover all of that week. But it’s important that she knows.

“What do you mean, ‘too late’?”

Her voice is small, so quiet he barely hears it. She threads her nimble fingers into his slender ones, and his heart is hammering. 

“I-I was on Dilaudid, or just barely off, you know- you wouldn’t want to be with someone like me. You asked me out when you didn’t even know that.”

“I know you now. Years worth of knowing.”

“And you haven’t asked me since.” 

“Spencer,” her voice is warm, rich like silk and grainy old music, and he wants to drink this image in, her fingers stroking the side of his face like he’s holy. He wonders if he’s dreaming, with how good she feels to be so close to. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg. I’m ready, now. 

“Spencer Walter Reid,” she says, properly holding his hand, bringing her soft lips to his hand, kissing his knuckle. He feels anointed, blessed by a higher power. “Could I take you out on a date?”

“Yes,” he says, finally. Five years of waiting melts away as he kisses her, warmth and light seeping into existence, a dream brought to tangible life, to touch and reality, “Actually, wait,” he says, and finishes before her face can fall, “Would you be my girlfriend?”

It’s maybe playing his cards too much, but her wide, ear to ear splitting grin is everything he needs to see, everything he might need to see for the rest of his life. 

“Took you long enough, boy-genius.”

“All you had to do was ask again!”

If she has a complaint about that, it certainly couldn’t be heard by the many, many kisses that would follow. 

[puff0o0]

Self aware simon who is so in love with you that he starts giving you free stuff from your wishlists

You were confused when the first package arrived at your address

It wasn't just any item on your wishlist, it was the most expensive one

At first you wondered if maybe it was for your neighbor and not you. But it was address to you, which made you wonder if someone bought it for you

You looked for any indication on who could have gotten you this on the package, but you couldn't figure it out

anyone you asked denied getting you it as well

You just saw it as a lucky yet creepy coincidence that you would talk about for the next week. It definitely boosted your mood and you were happy to receive it

But then the same creepy coincidence happened again

and again

and again

and again

It got to the point where you even called the police thinking you had some crazy stalker

(they didn't do anything which did NOT ease your paranoia and worry)

But little did you know it was Simon who managed to transfer his coding to your network, work his way into your wishlist, and put in fake transactions so that you could get stuff for free

all that work for someone who doesn't even know he's head over heels in love with them

[gethoce]

Alright Dutch's turn!!

1: If your partner could only eat one food for the rest of their life, what would it be?

“Urgh… He isn't really the picky type. He'd earn just about anything you put near his mouth.” There is a sense of annoyance in his expression. He sighs and rolls his eyes. “He'd probably eat my scales all day if he could, which I wouldn't recommend to anyone. They're dark matter, just like the rest of me.”

2: Who has the better sense of fashion?

“Heh…” A chuckle escapes him for a moment. “Limos doesn't really do fashion. I've only seen him dressed on a handful of occasions and those times he merely copied his warlock.” He shakes his head and then points at himself with a claw. “While I'm not particularly fashionable, it's more than nothing so… me.”

3: Who would win in a battle?

For a moment he grimaces, rolls his eyes and stares into the distance in quiet contemplation. “His lazy attitude makes him easy to defeat but if he was to go all in for once few would stand a chance, including myself.” Then he leans forward, all three eyes wide open. “Though against my truest form he is but an insect.” For a moment his voice has a threatening undertone to it, but then he leans back again, dismissively. “Not that I'd be able to summon The Plurality on my own, but still… It is part of what I am.”

4: You get a new pet that you love, but your partner doesn’t. What kind of animal is it?

It takes him a few seconds of thinking. The thought of getting a pet never crossed his mind before. “I don't think he would care either way. There is about a 50/50 chance that he likes it or feels neutral about it and something aggressive he'd probably be more so on the neutral side of. He doesn't hate many things.”

5: Where would you take your partner for a vacation?

“Assuming I can get him to leave the house and do something in the first place?” He does a little horizontal waving motion with his hand, ons eyebrow raised. “Someplace where no people are. He hates meeting people. He's a solitarious locust… I'm not particularly social myself, but not quite that anti-social. Anyway, probably the wilderness somewhere.” Once again he rolls his eyes. It seems like he doesn't get to take Limos to places as much as he would want to. It's not a topic he wants to linger on.

6: Which video game do you always beat your partner at?

“The game of actually doing something. I'm not a gamer but I'm certain I could beat him with ease no matter which game it is without any prior training.” He waves away the topic, unable to even name any games.

7: Which Copy Ability would best describe your relationship?

He rests his chin on his fist as he is pondering his options until he comes to a conclusion. “UFO. I will not elaborate.”

8: You have to make breakfast for your partner. What are you cooking?

For a moment he bares his teeth in annoyance. “I don't do cooking. I can just about prepare some toast for him. That I can manage. Between the two of us he is the cook. It's actually one of the few skills he makes use of frequently. Probably because while he could eat just about anything, tasty food is still better.” He looks to the ground, mumbling with a sense of worry. “Not that he's ever eating as much as he should.”

9: What’s the best gift your partner ever gave you?

“He gave me this magatama necklace when he proposed to me” With one hand he withdraws a green necklace with a magatama as its centerpiece. “Other than that he isn't much of a gift giver. He gives me his company and that's all that really matters to me.”

10: What’s something you started doing because of your partner?

With a huff he turns silent for a few too many seconds. “Staying at home more often than travelling. I used to be constantly on the go, now I'm almost always there with him and our children. Maybe when the kids are adult I can go out again with no worries.”

Muchadoo is hosting a romance-themed game show called Dream Date, and new contestants are invited! Kirby ship couples (including AU and OC characters) are invited to see how well they know their partners!

While the game is heavily romance themed, the questions are meant to work for platonic couples as well!

The rules are simple: it’s just the Newlywed game. Both players are presented with the same question regarding their partner, and each one must write the answer they think is correct. After both partners have written their answers, they reveal them, and we see just how right they are!

Here are some questions the couples might be asked:

If your partner could only eat one food for the rest of their life, what would it be?

Who has the better sense of fashion?

Who would win in a battle?

You get a new pet that you love, but your partner doesn’t. What kind of animal is it?

Where would you take your partner for a vacation?

Which video game do you always beat your partner at?

Which Copy Ability would best describe your relationship?

You have to make breakfast for your partner. What are you cooking?

What’s the best gift your partner ever gave you?

What’s something you started doing because of your partner?

There are no planned win conditions for this event, nor are there prizes; the point of this event is to simply provide a fun set of prompts for character couples/partnerships to answer in drawing or writing form! Just reblog this post adding your characters answering the questions, have fun, and have a happy Valentine’s Day!

[7kh]

༉ ease your mind.

cw — wlw. ambessa x f!reader. ambesscock. that’s it that’s the fic. fingering. slight orgasm denial if you squint. pussy slapping. overstimulation. creampie. ambessa loves her stupid little wife (not outwardly said but. yk). ambessa has a huge cock and it almost kills reader (not clickbait!!!)

you stood at the balcony of your palatial-like room, the cold air of the evening hitting your cheeks as your brows furrowed. ambessa sighed at the sight. you were her prized possession, she cleared the rust from you and made you lustrous; now, you were gradually dulling. she couldn’t let that happen. “your performance reflects your effort, little one. you’ve been dragging your feet all week.”

you internally winced at her words. there was no getting around ambessa, no slick tricks or batting eyelashes could conceal how you really felt. “you’re spending too much time in your head. no more of this self-deprecating prattle; you’re fine.” she said finally.

“right..” you exhaled under your breath.

she huffed. if there was one thing she loved about you, it was your compliance. not that it started that way; you had thorns in your words, much to her chagrin. “you disagree,” she noted.

you were a bit too quick to answer, “i do not,”

“no?” she raised an eyebrow at you. another weird shot in your stomach at the slightly teasing tone in her voice. “it’s… it’s silly.” you gulped. “silly.” that was the word you decided? it surprised her even though it shouldn’t. “humor me.”

your eyes briefly flicked to her face for a moment before you looked back down, sighing defeatedly. damn her. “i.. have been dissatisfied with my performance lately. and i fear you have to.” you muttered, you almost thought she didn’t hear you and would coax you to speak louder. but she understood you just clearly. she just didn’t understand why. “so?” you raised an eyebrow at her, looking up at her, continuing as she didn’t let you get the chance to speak yet. “i would have said something to you if i had any grievances. do you doubt my methods?”

mouth slightly gape, you closed it and swallowed again, looking down at the white cement beneath you, “n..no.” ambessa smirked. “no?” she repeated. “then do not waste your brain on such frivolous matters. or do you need a reminder on who exactly you belong to?”

“i-i..” somehow, you were just now made aware of her very close proximity to you. maybe a little too close if you weren’t busy rubbing your thighs together at the mere idea.

“i think you do.”

—

a violent, shuttering breath came from your chest as ambessa’s thick fingers worked amongst your slit, teasing up and down slowly before she rubbed firm yet calculated circles on your clit. gripping the red silk sheets for dear life, and she barely even started. “isn’t this better, hm? a great difference than whatever nonsense you had in that little head of yours.” you sobbed at her teasing, quickly throwing your head back when she added a thick finger inside you. you already felt so full, what more could she have?

you tried your absolute hardest to not squirm and writhe under her when she added another finger, the lewd squelching of your aroused pussy echoing the sumptuous walls. “absolute submission suits you far better, darling..” she drawled while slyly adding a third finger. you nodded dumbly, agreeing to whatever eloquent words she cooed to you. they made your pussy drool hot, creamy juices that made her stomach churn in satisfaction. you pleaded and gasped, her scarred forearm never faltering when your nails dug into it.

to her truimph of having you exactly where she wanted, she removed her fingers, licking them clean shamelessly. messily. like she was sampling piltover cuisine again. except this time it was from your pretty pussy, which automatically made it 10x better than the diplomatic, ‘progressive’ city.

you whine at the loss, bucking your hips up to desperately chase the feeling again until a harsh slap met your cunt, making you squeak and close your thighs together instinctively. “don’t be greedy,” she growled, her blunt hands grabbing the supple skin of your thighs and spreading them wide open for her. you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so incredibly aroused right now. “good girls don’t get rewarded if they’re inattentive. behave.” she leaned down to say firmly in your ear. you had no other choice but to nod your head, sniffling in compliance.

“your words, girl.”

“y-yes, ambessa.”

“good,” she smirked, leaning up again, lazily undoing her pants with an unreadable expression on her face. she knew you loved this sight of her, standing tall at the edge of the bed as you anticipated for what’s going to come next. it gave you a grueling feeling in your stomach, yet you chased it. chased her. with a scarred hand, she guided her cock out of the tight and inconvenient confines of her pants, mostly, if not already rock hard. dribbles of precum ran from her slit, making your mouth water at the sight, desperately wanting a taste. but not right now. was she twitching from the cool air of the room, or is she just simply built up and found the chance to finally fuck you? it was probably both.

she didn’t even let you breathe before you felt your knees rub against your chest and pulling you further to the edge of the bed, her slick tip sliding up against your slit, making you shudder. “let me show you how i value your excellence above anything else.” she finally sunk her cock into you, inch by inch, making you cry out. she wasn’t even fully in you yet. “breathe,” she cooed, guiding you through it was the least she could do. she held your legs steady as she sunk even further into you, biting your lip to alleviate the slight uncomfortableness. all of this, for you? the least you could do is just sit there and take it.

but, as soon as the pain faded away, you almost instantly became drunk on her cock, every snap of her hips knocked the wind out of you. your pussy salivated on her, smearing on her stomach and thighs and even on the bed, but she didn’t care. in fact, she encouraged it so much she forced you to look down at the sheer mess you were making. you were embarrassed, but the way you felt her cock twitch and hearing her groan when she saw the way she glided in and out of you made it worth it.

she made you pliable. a moldable, sticky mess, like you were designed by the gods to piece together perfectly like a complicated and difficult puzzle. “please, please please..” you whined, feeling her splitting you open. you were so full of her it was like you could fucking feel her in your throat, her cock kissing and bruising you in places you were unaware of until this evening. she was too big, you finalized— yet you could take it, she knew you could. each pant, moan and whine made that very clear to her.

“just fabulous..” she praised under her breath, appreciating how it earned a squeeze and twitches from your dewy, spongy walls. she knew you were getting close, dangerously so. she never relented her pace, having you babble and slur out nonsense, praise for her fucking you so good, thanking her for fixing your silly self-deprecating problems. she simply smirked and exchanged back filth to your slushed mind, but her smirk would slightly falter as she felt herself growing closer to release as well.

“‘bessa, gonna cum, i’m gonna cum, fuck—!!” you were only met with a nod, a final command as you followed it, like always. sobbing helplessly, a final, brutal slam made you gush everywhere, sinking herself down as you came unbelievably hard, your moans borderline whorish when you felt her cum deep inside you, a few shallow thrusts to ensure no drop escaped.

she barely even broke a sweat, yet you were under her fucked out of your mind, thighs twitching in mock-withdrawal in her hands, face ridden with tears and sweat. you were looked a mess, but you never looked more gorgeous in ambessa’s eyes.

her eyes widened softly as your arms wrapped around her neck and pulled her closer to you, but she made no attempt to pull away. she chuckled at your deprivation, rewarding you with a kiss on the side of your lips. “it seems like i hadn’t fail you this time.” you nodded and let out a meek “no” in response. you were too weak to speak at the moment.

you just wanted to selfishly bask in her embrace just a wee longer, wanting your skin to be hers for just a moment.

© 7KH 2024, all rights reserved — do not claim, modify, copy or translate my content.