#with last line again I feel the need to express. its fine

[chipjrwibignaturals]

I truly don’t believe in mcyt gatekeeping. THAT BEING SAID if i did it would 1000% be this video. if you’re not nostalgic for at least 3 creators in this video you should be shot

[pellucid-constellations]

Colds and Retold Confessions

Pairing: Line Cook!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel would never be one to not take care of his girl when she's sick. That doesn't mean he won't make her blush.

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Illness

a/n: Some early relationship with these two :) Can be read on its own!! But the rest of this AU can be found in my masterlist right there ⬇ love you <3

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

With a low groan, you drew yourself from the bed, the blanket you’d tangled yourself up in resting along your shoulders and twisting at your back. It took you a moment to recognize that you hadn’t woken up crammed in the small twin bed of your dorm. Azriel’s bed was much larger and much more comfortable, one of the many reasons he had trudged your dreary body off campus and into his house last night. 

Your feet met comfortable, plush carpet as you walked down the hall. Every time you came to Azriel’s house—which was very often, as of late—you were left wondering how in the world he could afford a place like this. When you asked, he always mumbled something about restaurant chains and Rhysand and paycheck bonuses. And then he would change the subject.

Whatever. Your mind was too hazy to ask right now. 

Eventually, plush carpet gave way to cold, unforgiving tile, and the low glow of the kitchen reflected off of tanned skin. Azriel moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, his hair slightly askew revealing the mess he’d been sleeping beside (you) not too long ago. 

An array of vegetables sat spread on a cutting board and a pot simmered on the stove. Azriel had forgone a shirt, but a small towel rested on his shoulder just as it did when he was at work. He was humming a low tone, something else he did at work, and you smiled despite the pounding in your head. 

A small cough gave you away. 

Azriel turned to you, his open expression softening as it landed on you. He gave you an endearing smile and swiped the towel from his shoulder, tossing it on the counter before closing in on you. He gathered you into his arms as soon as you were within reach, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. 

“Why’d you get up?” he asked. 

“I wanted to see where you were.” 

Azriel hummed and shuffled you back until you were close enough to the counter for him to lift you up and sit you on the surface. He nuzzled your nose with his and pressed his hands on either side of your legs. 

“‘M right here,” he mumbled against your cheek, kissing the warm skin. “You should have stayed in bed.” 

“I’m not that sick,” you argued, but the words meant little when your fever was all too apparent. “I can get out of bed and walk around. And you have work today, anyway. I’ll have to learn to fend for myself.” 

Azriel smiled again. He leaned back and looked at you fondly, the expression felt in his hands as he brushed your hair back and tilted his head to the side to observe you. “I called out. No fending for yourself today.” 

“Azriel,” you admonished. “You didn’t need to do that. I’m fine, really.” 

“You were throwing up all night, baby. And your face feels like the surface of the sun.” 

You groaned and leaned your head forward to hide your face in Azriel’s shoulder. “Don’t remind me. That was mortifying.” 

Azriel slotted himself between your legs and pulled you closer to the edge of the counter, his hands coming around your back to rub circles along your spine. He tugged your blanket closer to your legs as it lay spread out and spoke low in your ear. 

“Not mortifying. I love you—I don’t care. I just want you to feel better.” 

You turned your head to the side to peek up at your boyfriend, the heat in your cheeks now a combination of sickness, embarrassment, and subtle surprise. You’d been dating for a little while now, and while Azriel had told you he loved you a few times, the words still felt new and unexpected. Azriel responded by placing a hand on the back of your head and pressing your face into his neck. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he teased. “I’ve said it before.” 

“I know,” you mumbled into his skin. “Still just catches me off guard.” 

Azriel ran his hand over your hair. “Can’t imagine why.” He kissed the shell of your ear. “‘S too easy to love you.” 

“Az,” you stressed, bashfulness overcoming you. 

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, baby.” Azriel pulled back and framed your face with his hands, pressing his mouth to yours in a chaste kiss. “It’s just too easy right now—with you all sick.” 

“Whatever. You’re so mean sometimes.” 

Azriel laughed, tapping your chin softly before turning around and continuing his prep of the food on the other side of the kitchen. You watched as he stirred the contents of the pot and moved around the space, the muscles in his arms and back flexing with the tattoos on his skin. You leaned back on the counter until your back met the wall, enjoying the view and the soft humming that Azriel had started up again. 

“I love you too, you know,” you croaked out, your voice raspy from a night of terrible sleep. 

Azriel paused his movements. He hung his head for a moment before flashing a smile over his shoulder—one that seemed to light up his entire face. 

“I know, baby,” he grinned.

“And you didn’t need to make soup. I could have eaten like, a sandwich or something.” 

“You think I’m cooking all day for a bunch of strangers and I’m not going to make my own girl a meal?” 

“Well, no, but—” 

Azriel hummed and landed a passing kiss on your forehead as he moved to the fridge. “I just told you I love you. I meant it, baby. Let me make the soup.”

[natalievoncatte]

2. Courage

Her breath came in fits and starts as Kara knelt on the floor of her apartment. She told herself it wasn’t real, that it wasn’t permanent, that Mxyzptlk was creating illusions, but it felt real. It felt more real than the wood beneath her palms. She still gasped as if cold hard fingers closed around her throat and another woman’s broken heart bathed her in a murdering light. She was sure that if she looked over at the stand up mirror she’d see sickly green lines slicing through her skin, but when she looked that was nothing.

“Well,” said Mxyzptlk, “that was a close scrape, then. Shall we have another go? Perhaps a bit more carefully worded this time.”

Kara looked up, red sun fury boiling in her eyes.

“Get out.”

“Kara, perhaps it just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Get out,” Kara snarled, her voice chasing dust from the ceiling thin streamers. “Your gifts are poison. And stay away from Lena, do you hear me?”

He threw up his hands. “Fine then, fine then, I’ll go, but if you ever need me… I still owe you a favor.”

“Out!” Kara raged.

After he vanished, Alex stumbled back into the room, looking at Kara with shock and alarm. She glanced at J’onn, who formed a fight frown and said, “Kara, when you’re ready, if you want to talk, we can talk.”

Kara nodded with a dismissive wave. The door closed a moment later and Kara glanced over to see Alex still standing there.

“Sis?” she asked, her voice small.

Kara swallowed.

“What did he do?”

“He cheated,” Kara snapped. “He twisted things. He said he would help me fix things with Lena but made sure it wouldn’t work. He… it was hell, Alex, he showed me hell. Everyone kept dying. You, my friends, her. Every choice I made set off some… some dick genie bullshit that made all my wishes go wrong. The last one almost got me killed. For real. I was so stupid.”

“What did you ask for?”

“I asked him to make so we never met so she could be happy without me, and instead she died in the helicopter attack and her mother brought her back as Metallo to kill me.”

Alex blinked. “Jesus,” she whispered.

Kara began to shake, hugging herself. As the righteous fury faded, the towering grief swept in to take its place, a freezing wind following the setting of a tyrant sun. She crumpled, falling back into the couch.

Alex was there in an instant, wrapping Kara in a protective hug as she began to sob.

“What did he want to show me? That it wasn’t going to ever work? That we were just doomed from the start?”

Alex tensed, sucking in a sharp breath.

“He came to you and said he’d fix your friendship?”

“No, he said he’s grant me one gift, and that’s what I asked for.”

Alex went slack for a brief moment. When Kara turned to look at her, there was an expression of absolute shock on her face.

“You… you didn’t ask for your parents. Or to save Krypton. You asked for Lena.”

“Yeah,” Kara sniffed, “why?”

Alex looked thunderstruck. Kara had seen this expression before, when her sister had grasped something difficult or complex. It was the look of an epiphany, a realization.

“I don’t think he was trying to tell you there was never a chance,” Alex said, softly. “Maybe he wasn’t trying to tell you anything at all. Maybe the only thing that matters is what you took from it.”

“All it took from it is that it’s over,” Kara whimpered. “It’s all over. I never had a chance.”

Alex rubbed her back for a while. She seemed conflicted, opening her mouth to speak several times before closing it again.

“Why Lena? Why does she matter so much to you?”

Kara choked back and swallowed, hard. “She was my best friend before I ruined us. She made me feel like a whole person, and she loved me, she loved Kara in a way that nobody ever has. I felt this peace with her, and she made me so happy and contented when I was with her protected her. I just want another five minutes of that feeling.”

Alex was quiet again.

“You could have had Krypton back, or your parents, or… or Jeremiah… and you picked Lena.”

Kara heard the way her voice hitched and tensed, a cold knife running down her spine.

“Alex I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I was so stupid…”

“No,” Alex smoothed her hair, “no, kiddo. Shhh, it’s okay. I understand.”

There was an unspoken even if you don’t.

“What are you trying to say?”

Alex swallowed hard, tensing.

“I think you need to hear this, Kara, and you might have to hear it from me. Buying CatCo was not a friendly gesture. One does not drop almost a billion dollars to chitchat and gossip with a buddy. Filling your office with flowers was not a simple thank you, and Lena did not take learning about your identity the way a close friend would. At all.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I think you do, you just don’t want to see it because of what it means.”

“What?”

“Kara,” said Alex, “one does not burn their one wish on another person’s happiness unless they deeply care about that person. I don’t think I would have made a wish like that for Maggie.”

Kara’s head snapped up, almost dangerously fast. She stared straight ahead, past Alex, an electric fusion of terror and elation smashing together inside her like water on rocks. How could she be so blind?

“You think I’m in love with Lena.”

Alex nodded.

“Don’t think…”

“Office full of flowers,” said Alex.

Kara bolted to her feet, gently disentangling from her sister, and headed for the door.

“Kara?!” Alex demanded. “Please don’t do something you’ll regret.”

Kara paused at the door.

“I already did.”

When she touched down on the balcony, Lena was at her table in her kitchen, staring at a glass of scotch. The change in her heart rate and slight shift in her posture told Kara that she knew she was there.

Kara waited.

Lena rose, swallowed the last of her drink in a dramatic flourish, and stalked to the door. She swept it open and stood on the threshold, leaning against the frame to bar Kara’s way.

“Make it quick, I’m not in the mood.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara began.

“Not this again,” Lena sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Listen to me, God damn it,” Kara snapped.

Lena’s eyes widened at the profanity, and she didn’t move. She didn’t let Kara in.

She didn’t close the door, either.

“I’m listening.”

Kara swept her hands through her hair. She didn’t know where to start, so she just blurted it out.

“A fifth dimensional imp just gave me a chance to change history any way I wanted. Any way I wanted.”

“And this was the best that you could do?” Lena said, arching her eyebrow. She seemed so sharp and yet so lost and tired, the freighted eyes of a lonely girl hiding within her austere, cold beauty.

Eyes that Kara saw as a mirror of her own.

“All of the things I tried turned into monkey’s paw bullshit,” said Kara. “It was never going to work because getting a do-over was the coward’s way out. I can’t fix this unless I admit what I’ve done.”

“Oh, here we go,” said Lena. “Not the ‘I was only trying to protect you’, speech again.”

“You killed your brother for me and I was too cowardly to tell you my real name,” said Kara.

Lena’s face fell.

“I was too cowardly to tell you the truth. I was too scared that I might lose you. That wasn’t the worst part. I didn’t give you the faith that you put in me. I told myself over and over that you were the most important person in my life, and you know what? You are. I had a chance at anything, and I didn’t pick my birth family or my foster father or my culture or my entire planet. I picked you.”

Lena stared at her, visibly stunned.

“You matter more to me than anyone. If it was you or the chemicals I would have saved you and fuck the reservoir. If it was you or the city it would be you. If it was anyone or anything it would be you. Always you. But I didn’t treat you like that. I treated you like a threat, like spending to be scared of, and I took from you without giving, and I’m sorry.”

Standing up, Lena hugged herself, gaze locked with Kara’s.

“What do you want?”

“I want to fix it.”

“How?”

“We can fix it, together. I know you want to. You have a good heart, full of kindness. I just want to hold it in my palms and shelter and protect it and care for you always. I want it more than I want air to breath. If you want to fix and I want to fix it we can find a way. Not right now, not in five minutes, maybe not for years, but I will do anything to bring you back, and I don’t care what you do, I will never treat you like a villain.”

Lena licked her lips and looked away. Hot tears glittered on her cheeks as she pressed her eyelids shut and Kara ached with the pain of her revelation.

“If you don’t want to fix things with me, it’s okay. Just don’t do what you’re planning to do. Don’t hurt anyone, even with good intentions. Don’t let yourself become something you’re not because I didn’t have the courage to help you be all that you are.”

“Get off my balcony,” Lena choked out. “Go. Now, get away!”

Kara stumbled back as if struck, the force of those words crashing into her chest like a hammer, and she didn’t breath as she took off, careful to ascend slowly until she gained enough height.

Then she went hypersonic, her speed dragging out her shriek of rage and anguish behind her, Kara outrunning it even as she couldn’t outrun the fury and grief choking her chest. She flew and flew, past the clouds, flew as the air thinned, blasted into the very embrace of space until the air was gone and no one would ever hear her scream again.

She could hold her breath, she thought. Hold it for hours until she passed out and by the time her orbit decayed she’d be gone and her empty shell could tumble somewhere into the ocean and be forgotten.

A tiny voice whispered, you must live, Kara, so that we are not forgotten.

Kara let herself fall. She tumbled through the air, burning a crimson wake as she made reentry, slowing somewhere over the Pacific.

There was no hurry to get home. When she descended from her roof and walked down the stairs to her loft, she stumbled. There was not one heartbeat in her home, but two.

In a daze, she stumbled through the door and froze. Lena was sitting across from Alex, and for a wonder, Alex wasn’t trying to arrest or shoot her. They both had a beer in front of them and looked to be in mid conversation when Kara walked in.

On the table between them was Myriad. It looked so small, so inconsequential, this ultimate weapon built by her people to enslave their subjects.

Alex rose swiftly. “I’m going to get going. You two clearly have a lot to discuss.” She turned to Lena. “Hurt my sister like that again and next time I’ll fire the orbital fusion cannon at you.”

Lena glared, but said nothing.

Kara slowly pulled out a chair and sat down. Tentatively , she reached across and placed her hand on it, to pull it in. She froze as Lena’s hand settled on hers, fingers curling around Kara’s wrist.

“I’m sorry, too,” Lena offered, in a harsh whisper. “I’m sorry, Kara. I want to try, too.”

For the first time that night, Kara smiled.

It was not an easy or quick thing. A monument is not built in a day and things that last a lifetime are not easily forged. It took months, then years, for the trust to be rebuilt, its foundations made of bricks like lunches and sister night invitations, quiet shared meals and tentative questions that had already been answered, but in the end a wall rose, taller and stronger than ever before. Not a barrier that stood between them but a fortress that encircled and endured, made of stolen kisses and frantic nights and a pair of matching bracelets.

[jobean12-blog]

Promise Me

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 1,080

Summary: Joel is not happy when he finds out you left to go search for something and didn't tell him...

Author's Note: Just a little angry (but soft always) Joel because he's overly protective and needs you to be ok. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: some angsty bits here and there but only bc Joel is protective and you're his, softness, spicyness and some fluff

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

Joel shoots to his feet with a string of grumbled expletives, intending to go out and start his second search of the day when he hears the sound of soft footfalls on the stairs.

His heart starts to beat wildly as he waits to see who’s at the door. It opens to reveal you, looking as beautiful as ever, and with that his anger reaches its boiling point.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Your entire body startles with a strangled scream and you drop something to the floor. You back up against the wall and search for some light, finally noticing him seconds later.

“Oh my god Joel! Are you crazy?”

Some of his anger deflates at your panicked tone, but not all.

“I’m not the crazy one! Crazy would be leaving for half the damn day and not tellin’ me where you’re off to!”

With a scoff you reach down to pick up what fell from your hands. “I didn’t know I had to report all my comings and goings to you!”

His chest heaves with his labored breathing and he steps closer.

“You still didn’t answer my question,” he warns.

You stay silent as you stuff the contents of your hand into your jacket pocket, trying to skirt past him and into the small space you call home.

He’s had enough, stopping your progress with a firm hand on your waist.

He spins you around until you’re caged against the counter, his arms resting on either side of you, and leans in close.

“Where. The. Hell. Have. You. Been? I’m not goin’ to ask again darlin’.”

You get right in his face.

“I went looking for something ok! And I found it. And I’m fine.”

His eyes sweep over you, assessing you so closely you feel stripped bare.

He doesn’t move away but heaves a yielding sigh of your name.

Your expression softens with a frown and when his head drops toward his chest you tentatively reach for his jaw, pressing your fingers to the patchy scruff to lift his eyes to yours again.

“Joel?”

“I...,” he starts quietly. “I thought somethin’ happened to you!,” he says, much louder now.

His agonized eyes meet yours and after a moment’s hesitation, he speaks again.

“Believe it or not, I care about you. More than you know. The last few hours have been pure hell, darlin.’ You think it’s funny to scare the shit out of me?”

“No,” you answer quietly. “I don’t think it’s funny and I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Then why were you gone all day angel?” he demands.

“Well…I,” you begin hesitantly, then blow out a breath. “I wanted to find some crayons! I found a coloring book the other day but I have no crayons! It took longer than I expected. I thought I would be back before you even missed me.”

When he just stares at you blankly you continue talking, your voice barely above a whisper when you ask, “do you want to color with me?”

He remains quiet and you add, “I’m sorry.”

He nods and slides his hand into your pocket, carefully pulling out the worn box of crayons.

“All that for some crayons?” he muses softly.

“I love to color,” you say with a small shrug. “Don’t be mad.”

Resolute in his anger he doesn’t reply but keeps you caged in, his eyes dropping to your lips.

With tentative movements you brush the fallen hair from his forehead and trace the line of his jaw before pressing a kiss just under his ear.

“I promise I won’t do it again.”

Another kiss, this time lingering on his neck.

He can feel his defenses slipping and against his better judgement he leans into your touch, the feel of you threatening to completely topple his anger.

Your hands start to trail down his chest toward his stomach but he grasps them, dragging you into his embrace.

“Say it again,” he growls. “Promise me you’ll never leave me like that. Never again.”

“I promise Joel.”

He brings your hand to his mouth, kissing the inside of your wrist then letting the other hand slide down your back, satisfied when your breath hitches in your throat.

“Good,” he murmurs, pressing you against his body, lining you up with every inch of him.

A roll of his hips lets you feel his need and your eyes close, parting on a moan.

“Are you still mad?” you ask. “We could color? It might help you relax.”

His head dips slowly, his warm breath fanning your lips before he closes the distance and cuts off your surprised gasp with his mouth. He grabs the back of your neck and commands the kiss, only deepening it when you bite his bottom lip.

His possessive growl is followed by a question spoken directly against your parted, swollen lips.

“Do you see what you do to me?”

His breath shudders in and out, sounding loud in the quietness surrounding you. He works open the button of your jeans, then slips his big hand down the inside of your panties.

“Next time you need somethin’ you come to me,” he says. “I’ll give you everything you need.”

Your head rolls back and your eyelashes flutter against your cheek, your breathy affirmation driving his fingers right where you want them.

He leans down and brushes his lips to the shell of your ear.

“I protect what’s mine.”

The next morning, by the soft glow of the rising sun, you sit on the makeshift bed, your back to Joel’s chest and your knees pulled up with the coloring book resting on them.

“I forgot how small these things are.”

You study his hand. Long, thick fingers dwarfing the green crayon held between them.

“Nah. Your hands are just really big,” you purr. “And I lo…”

“Yeah, yeah. I know angel. You love ‘em.”

“I love, love, love them!” you exclaim, feeling his light chuckle.

You snuggle closer to his warmth and rest your head back along his chest.

“You have to stay inside the lines,” you playfully chide.

“Well, it’s not that easy from this position!” he shoots back.

“I can move over here…”

He tightens his grip, not allowing you to move an inch out of his arms.

“Don’t. I need to keep you close.”

“Forever?” you ask with a giggle.

He gently grasps your chin and tilts your head back to meet his eyes, his expression fierce.

“Forever angel.”

@hiddles-rose @lizette50 @kmc1989 @lorilane33 @blackwidownat2814 @littleseasiren

[angel5ofp0rn]

♡last part♡

Young!Price -> ExHusband!Price x f!reader

(Young!Price flashback)

The pub was alive with the sounds of laughter and clinking pints as John sat with Simon, Kyle, and Johnny. John was halfway through his second beer when his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, seeing an unfamiliar number.

"Be right back." John muttered, picking up the phone. He stepped outside into the cool evening air, lighting a smoke and answering the call. "Yeah?"

"John, it's Nadia," a familiar voice replied, though it sounded different – tense, almost hesitant.

"Nadia…" John repeated, racking his brain for a face to match the name. He vaguely remembered a blonde woman from a few weeks ago, but the details were hazy. "Er…. everything alright?"

There was a pause on the other end before Nadia spoke again. "I... I need to talk to you. It's important."

John's heart skipped a beat, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. "Alright. What's up?"

"I’m pregnant and I’m keeping the baby, John. I just thought you should know." Nadia said, the words rushed out as if she couldn't bear to hold them back any longer.

John felt the world tilt on its axis. He leaned against the pub’s brick wall, trying to process what he'd just heard. "Pregnant?"

John rubbed his temples, trying to piece everything together. The night was coming back to him in fragments – a night out with the guys, mutual friends, a spontaneous hookup. "Nadia, right. You’re the one who had never—"

"Yeah, that’s right," Nadia replied, a hint of embarrassment in her voice when he remembered. "I’m not asking for anything from you. I just thought you should know."

John blew smoke away from the receiver, trying to calm his thoughts. "Nadia, listen... I want to do the right thing here, but I’m not sure what that is just yet.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then Nadia sighed. "We should talk more about this...“

"Let me call you back tomorrow, and we can figure things out, yeah?”

They said their goodbyes and John ended the call, no longer interested in finishing his smoke. He stood there for a moment, staring at his cigar.

He walked back inside, the guys noticing the change in his demeanor immediately.

"Everything alright, cap’n?" Gaz asked.

John shook his head, taking his seat. "Not sure yet. Just found out I’m going to be a dad."

The table fell silent, the guys exchanging glances. Soap spoke up finally. "Are you sure you’re the father?”

"Yeah," John replied, taking a sip of his beer. “I’m sure.”

“How could you be, if the baby hasn’t been born yet?” Gaz chimed in. “You need to ask for a paternity test before you take claim of a random hook-up’s child.”

John shook his head sternly. “No, this woman… She’s… It’s mine.” John left it at that.

The guys accept that answer— or just didn’t want to end up angering Price.

Ghost, who had been quiet until now, leaned forward onto the table. "I think being a dad suites you, Price. Been fathering Gaz and Soap just fine.”

“Piss off,” John snorted.

•••

You hold John’s hand tightly, Shea on your hip as you all walk up the pavement to Nadia’s.

Your oldest and middle take off running ahead of you as soon as they see the familiar house, excited to spend the day with their big brother.

“Gonna cut my circulation off if you hold any tighter,” John murmurs.

A little embarrassed, you loosen your grib on your husband’s hand and mumble a “sorry.”

“What’s got you so anxious, hm?”

You just shrug. You don’t want to say it’s because you’re jealous of your husband’s ex-wife and the cheek kiss she gave him two days ago.

The kids let themselves into Nadia’s home as if it’s their own, making John call after them in his authoritative dad voice that you love hearing.

“Oh, they’re fine, Johnny.” Nadia waves him off as she appears in the door. “Let them have fun.”

Johnny?

You try to cover the autonomous sour expression on your face with a smile and accept the hug Nadia gives you.

“Nice to see you!” Nadia smiles warmly. “And this little chunky monkey. I just have to squeeze her.”

You don’t mind handing baby Shae off to Nadia to get some cuddles in; at least you know she won’t be trying to kiss your husband that way.

You and John head through the house and out to the backyard where the kids are playing. Your eyes watch the kids play, but your mind can’t stop thinking about whether or not you’ve missed any signs of Nadia still being interested in John, or vice versa.

Yeah, they’ve both told you that there’s no feelings between each other, but all exes say that, don’t they?

And you saw how happy John looked in their wedding photos… happier than you’ve ever seen him.

“Want a drink?” John asks, breaking your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you reply, trying to focus on the here and now. He heads inside, leaving you with your swirling thoughts.

As you watch John and Nadia through the kitchen window, you notice their relaxed smiles, the way they move around each other with practiced familiarity.

Jealousy prickles at your heart again, but before you can dwell too long on it you see a third figure enter the kitchen.

A woman with short, light hair steps in, wrapping Nadia up in a hug.

Nadia’s face lights up as they interact, and your curiosity gets the best of you— you step inside.

“Kate,” John smiles, giving the woman a hug with one arm, your beer in the other hand. “This is my wife,” He gestures to you. “Love, this is Kate Laswell, you’ve heard me talk about her before when we used to work together.”

You blink, stunned for a moment. You see the way Nadia is looking at Kate, and the arm Kate has wrapped around Nadia’s waist…

You feel a wave of relief wash over you.

Kate is Nadia’s girlfriend.

Of course.

Kate smiles warmly, shaking hands with you. “It’s nice to meet you. John’s told me a lot about you.”

•••

You all make it back outside, joining the children in the backyard; Nadia is down in the grass playing whatever game the kids have made up while Shae snuggles up to Kate as if she’s known her forever.

John wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close as he leans down to murmur into your ear. “Feeling better?”

“You fucking asshole,” You playfully shove John’s shoulder. “You could have just told me that Nadia was gay.”

John laughs, his eyes crinkling as they do when he genuinely smiles. “Maybe I liked seeing you jealous.”

<< prev

* tbh i just needed to end this series. sorry if the last chapter is assssss

[sugawhaaa]

MINGI X READER 🏁

💧going fast isn't always physical💧

{{Chapter 2/3}}

Warnings::SMUT/ smut ns/fw scenes are marked by a dotted red line (like always)

Pairing:: racer!dom!Mingi x referee!fem!sub!reader

Genre:: Racer AU, car sex, oral [f/m rec] praise, teasing, gagging, hair pulling

Word count::4, 095

A/N:: omfg Tumblr uploaded this AGAIN without me telling it to. Just boom its here now and I am so so so so so so sorry that this will now be three parts. Again I am so so so so sorry all my fanfics are becoming multiple parts bc of this stupid Tumblr glitch and I am going to try and stop this from happening again in the future 🙏 I hope you understand

Part 1:: here

🎧::

"So why did you bring me out here?” You ask softly and he looks down, feeling almost ashamed.

“I just…” he bites his lip. “I wanted to get to know you. Just hang out a bit, until you finish your ice cream then I promise I'll bring you home,” he looks at you with guilty eyes. You knew why he was doing this now, he needed you but couldn't say it.

“That's fine,” you shrug and eat your treat, looking off into the distance at the moon. “You should give me your number,” you say as you pull your phone out of your purse.

“Sure, let me punch it in,” he smiles as he takes your phone. He types in a few numbers, pauses, and continues.

“Did you forget your number?” You chuckle and he laughs.

“Yes, it's been a while and I'm flustered,” he laughed as he sent himself a message through your phone, making sure it worked. There was a ding from his phone and he picked it up, seeing the message went through.

“We should take a selfie to put as your profile pic on my contacts,” you smile and he nods. You hold up your camera and he leans in. The two of you hold up your ice cream. The lighting is pretty bad. Mingis fancy car lights made it a bit better but it was still bad. You took the photo and instantly went to look at it. Mingi leaned in over your shoulder to see the photo.

“Ah, you look so cute,” he squeezes your shoulder and you laugh with pink cheeks. He watches as you put it as his profile pic before asking you to send it to him. He uses the photo as your contact profile picture, cropping himself out of it slightly. He types in your name, putting a heart emoji by it.

-Y/N 💕

He smiles and you peer over his shoulder. He blushes and pulls his phone away. Not a word to be spoken due to his pure embarrassment. You look down at your phone and type in his name.

-Mingi 💕

You smile at him and his heart skips about a thousand beats.

“Now we match,” you chuckle but Mingi is still left in a daze, entranced by your beauty while you look down at your phone. He doesn't speak or take his eyes off you. He extends his hand out to you aimlessly. He doesn't know where he's reaching, he just wants to feel you. He brushes back your hair to see your face and you look up at him. Your remaining hair framing your face. You look him up and down, searching for his intent. He swallows his last bit of ice cream as he stares into your eyes. “Mingi?” You call out his name hoping he'd explain himself.

“I'm sorry,” he apologizes but he doesn't take his hands off of you. His fingers trail down the side of your face, resting at your chin.

“For what?” You ask softly and Mingi sighs.

“I'm pushing you, too fast,” he explains and you look confused. “You only met me today,” his eyes softened, despair filling them. “I've loved you for so long, admiring you from afar,” he sighs and retreats his hand from your face.

“What?” You look at him surprised. He looked down at the wheel of his car with an expression that couldn't be described with descriptive words. It was sorrow, it was anger, it was disappointment, and surely none of which were targeted at you. His expression could only be described as “I'm so ashamed of myself,”. He didn't have to say it, you could hear it through his eyes. “Hey, hey, listen,” you put your hand on his shoulder comfortingly and he turned to you again. “If there's something you want to talk about or say just say it,” you rub his shoulder softly, moving more towards his back. Mingi groans as he tries to get his thoughts collected and turn them into words.

“At the library, I've seen you working there a few times and I could never take my eyes off of you,” Mingi bites on the inner side of his lip as he stares down at the wheel. “I wanted to talk to you, ask you out, tell you how beautiful you were but I could never bring myself to even make eye contact with you,” he explains and you nod softly.

“I understand Mingi,” you rub his back again before bringing your hand up, tucking stray hairs behind his ear. “To be honest, when I first had to wake you at the library I thought you were so…everything,” you laugh and he looks up at you, hoping to catch a glimpse of your pure smile. “I thought you were cute, hot, handsome, attractive, all at the same time. I was confused because I hadn't even learned your name yet, somehow, I felt head over heels,” you finish your explanation and Mingi turns to you, surprised by the use of the expression “head over heels,”

“You think I'm…attractive?” He blushes, unable to hide the fact he's all giddy inside. You nod and he's at a loss for words. He bites his lip softly before leaning back in his seat, letting out a groan. “Fuck, you do things to me Y/N,” he chuckles with little grin that was nearing a smirk.

“I'd love to do more to you,” you lean closer to him and he turns his head slightly, raising a brow. You extend your hand out to hold his hand that's resting on his thigh but you hesitate.

“Care to elaborate on that princess?” He smirks as he looks back at you. You blush seeing the state he's in. His eyes are tired but full of lustful energy, his hair messily falling forward, his body relaxed against the back of his seat.

“No,” you look away from him again and he laughs. Now he leans towards you, his hand on the edge of the bottom of your seat, his fingertips inches from your thigh.

“People don't like being called out when they start acting reckless hm?” He says in a low seductive voice that has your skin crawling. You snap your head back to look at him, surprised by the way he effortlessly read you like a book. “Cat got your tongue? Usually you're one to snap back at people, at least from what I've seen,” he smirks as his voice lingers with lustful intent.

“I don't know how you want me to reply to that statement,” you cross your arms and he gets a kick out of your reaction. He laughs to himself, moving his hand back.

“Tell me, what more do you want to do to me?” He repeats and you blush, feeling trapped in his little scheme. In all honesty you wanted to pin him down to his seat and give him the most head spinning oral he's ever received but you wouldn't dare say it. Especially not when he's got you drawn into a corner like this. “If you tell me, who says your dreams won't come true,” he leans in closer, his words dropping to whispers as he closes in on your ear. “Or should I say, your fantasies?”

You bite your lip as his breath inches down your neck, lighting your skin aflame. The heat seems to instantly travel between your thighs. You let out a huff and straighten your posture.

“Well what I was really thinking was, earlier when you were showing me the features of your car you showed me the lights that change color in the back,” you explain and he raises a brow, intrigued by where your words are headed. “And I couldn't help but notice…” you look at the buttons on the car. You turn the back lights on and rotate a small notch, the lights changing color as you move it. You land upon the red, the red hue lighting up the back of the car and give him a knowing look. Mingi looks surprised before smirking.

“You're dirty,” he chuckled. “So that's what you're really thinking?” He tilts his head and you lean closer to him, your lips just centimeters apart.

“Yes,” you look up at him desperately and he runs a hand through your hair. You then seal the distance between your lips. His lips were much softer than you anticipated. They were tender and plush, but his skills were none of the sort. His hand gently held the side of your face as his tongue crept between your lips, rolling over your tongue. He definitely wasn't afraid to show you who had charge in the situation. His other hand slid down to your waist, caressing the dip in your body. You felt completely held under his will, but you were here for it. He pulled back from your lips looking down at you, your lipstick smeared.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Get in the back,” he smirked and gave your hips a little lift, encouraging you forward. You crawled into the back of his car where the dim red lights illuminated. You sat against the back seat as Mingi crawled back with you. He gently pushed you back against the seat as his lips pieced to yours. You brought your hands up to his fiery hair, twirling strands around your fingers or gripping it in a fist as his tongue explored your mouth. His hands mainly rested on your hips or waist but as the kiss started escalating his hands crawled up your body.

Your leather jacket fell off your shoulder as you shifted beneath him, your upper back now pressed beneath the window. Mingi dipped his head down to your neck, leaving little marks along your skin while his right hand crept up to your breast. He cupped it softly before rubbing his thumb along the surface of it, searching for the bud. You jumped slightly as his thumb hit your hardened bud. He smirked and let the skin from between his teeth out. He slowly pulled the jacket off your body, letting it fall to the floor of his car.

Things were moving so fast between the two of you. Only just a few hours ago you were waking up this stranger at the library and now you were making out in the back of his car. You knew this was reckless, falling for a man you just met but you couldn't resist him. He was gentle, kind, and sweet but he was also protective and wasn't afraid to say what's on his mind. Not to mention he was absolutely beautiful. His hair was dense and beautifully textured, the bright colors drew you in like a moth to light. His eyes were always pure and full of life, his skin always soft and smooth. His skin felt like silk to the touch and his hands were heavy, holding a bit more roughness than the rest of his body. His hands still held cautious and gentleness. His smile was bright enough to light up your life. He may be a racer and he may be doing illegal things every other night but he had a pure heart.

Mingi's hand trailed up your arm, feeling the newly exposed skin. You put your hands up to his chest and he freezes his actions. “Do you want me to stop?” He asked with a sympathetic gaze. You chuckle as you shake your head.

“No, I just wanted to feel your body,” you admit with a little hint of embarrassment. Mingi's face flushes and he swallows hard.

“Oh sorry, sure go ahead,” he smiles with a nod and he resumes stroking your body. His thumb rubbing on your erect nipple through your top as you trail your hands down his chest. Truth be told, he had a very delectable body. He was muscular, his pecs standing out in his tight fitted shirt but as your hands traveled down his waist thinned but the muscles never softened. This was the beginning of a true night to remember, starting with exploring each other's bodies. Words didn't need to be said, the touches alone said everything.

Mingis thumb stopped attacking your sensitive nub and moved to your exposed skin. He traced his hands down your bare skin, the physical contact sending waves of goose bumps up your body. You bite your lip as your hands travel to his back, his muscles still prominent there as well. His fingers graze along the top of your skirt, his index finger tapping the button.

“Princess,” he says softly and you look up at him, making direct eye contact for what felt like an eternity. He leans down and kisses your stomach gently before looking up at you with puppy eyes. You have to hold in your laughter at his adorable expression. “I never got to tell you all the things I wanted to do to you,” he smirks. “I wanna make you feel loved, I want to cherish every single part of your body,” he caresses your face softly as he speaks in a creamy tone. “I want to take your pleasure to new heights, I want to hear you scream my name and plead for more,” Mingi hisses, his eyes begging for your consent. You brush your fingers through his hair. “I know we're moving fast but…I've always been the type I guy to go at a fast pace,” he sighs, trying to ignore the fact your leg is pressing right against his boner. You put a finger to his lips, shutting him up.

“I've heard everything I need to. You can do whatever you want to me,” you smile at him lustfully and you see the sparkle appear in his eyes.

“That's dangerous baby, everything I want,” he chuckles before unbuttoning your skirt, arousal filling the small space of his car. He simultaneously pulls down your panties with the skirt, finally freeing your aching core. He holds your hips steadily as he leans down his lips parted. He tests the waters by dipping his tongue to your clit, experimentally licking it. You jump lightly at the long awaited contact, biting your knuckle as you do so. He looks up at you through hooded eyes that makes your eyes roll back as he uses little kitten licks on your clit.

“Stop teasing me,” you whine as you toss your head back, your right hand now tangled in your hair while your left hand squeezes one of your tits. Mingi grins before sitting up again.

“You said I could do whatever I wanted to you, and I want to tease you until you're begging for me,” he smirked and you scowled at him. If he wanted you to beg, you were going to BEG.

"Please Mingi, I'm serious,” you look up at him with pleading eyes.

“Please what? Use your words princess,” he smirks as he traces his thumb across your lower lip, his other arm pressed against your waist, his hand gripping the bottom of the seat.

“Please…” you hesitated, trying to find the words to use. You didn't want to sound like a desperate whore but you always needed him to eat you out until you saw stars. “Fuck me with your tongue,” you throw your head back and he smiles, retreating his hand from your lips. Okay maybe you sounded a bit more desperate than you meant to but at least now Mingi understands how much you physically need him right now.

He leans down to your aching pussy lips with a smirk. He holds your thighs open as his mouth covers your folds, warming them with his mouth. The feeling alone could make you cum, your hips bucking into his jaw. He chuckles lowly, his deep voice vibrating your core. He then runs his tongue up all of your folds, from the entrance to your clit. You whimper and grab his fiery hair. He moves his head as he takes long licks, the tip of his nose rubbing against your clit as he did so. You felt your thighs jitter at the pleasure, threatening to close and lock around his head. You held yourself back, refraining to just arching your back but Mingi started rolling his tongue in circles and swaying his head back and forth creating double stimulation.

You gasp loudly and you notice the smirk creep onto his face. In all honesty you were nearing your orgasm already but you wanted to prove to Mingi you could hold on. Mingi though, could feel your walls convulsing under his lips and taste the impending release. He clenched your hips harder and pulled them to his face, forcing you to take the stimulation. You couldn't squirm away anymore. He brought his hand down to your entrance and started gently teasing the little slit with the tip of his ring finger. It was enough to send Shockwaves of pleasure up your body. You couldn't hold back anymore. You clenched his hair in a tight fist as your moans pitched.

“M-Mingi I'm gonna cum,” you whimper out and Mingi smirks one last time before assaulting your pussy lips with his tongue. His tongue relentlessly lapping at your juices as his nose pressed against your clit, his finger still teasing your slit. You jumped from the sudden jolt of energy from him before unraveling beneath him. Your hips jitter as they rutt into his face, your sweet release dripping onto his finger.

He pulls back and pushes his finger inside you. You jump at the sudden intrusion, lunging forward. “M-Mingi!?” You gasp out and he laughs, fingering you as he does so. You put your head on his shoulder as he toys with you. You were already so sensitive from that unimaginable orgasm and here he was bringing you to the edge again. You clench his hair in a fist again as tears of pleasure build in your eyes. “I'm gonna cum again,” you stutter out and mingi grins.

“I know baby~ I can feel your walls clenching around my finger,” he chuckles into your ear and that just about does it. You spill out under him again before falling limp in his arms. He pulls his finger out if you and he catches you slightly as you pant. “You did good, so good,” he showers you in wet kisses as he lets you rest. He runs his fingers through your hair, calming you down from the rush. “Do you need a break?” He asks as you rest on the back of the seats. You shake your head and Mingi tilts his head.

In truth, you did need a break. Even if it was a few minutes but you were afraid that this intimate experience might end.

“I'm fine,” you pant out with a wave of your hand.

“Here let me give you a drink at least,” he opens a drawer from underneath the car seat and brings out a plastic water bottle for you. You look at him surprised as he opens the cap. He sits next to you and holds your jaw gently, tipping your head back. “Open~” he smiles and you do as he says. The cold water soothes your throat and rejuvenates you for another round of excitement. He puts the cap back on before setting the water bottle in a cup holder up front. He smiles at you warmly as he lays back against the seat with you. “Do you want to keep moving forward or leave it at this?”

Your attention instantly snaps back to him. You lean in, basically crawl on him, as he looks around awkwardly. Blush creeps up from his neck as your hands roam over his body. He looks between your breasts to your crotch, back and forth. “I'm not done with you just yet,” you grin as a string of cum drips from your pussy to his bulge straining on his pants. He throws his head back with a moan. You grin and move down to your knees, undoing his pants. He's taken aback by your sudden advance but as the cold air hits his erection all his worries melt away.

“Alright pretty girl,” he laughs as his head tosses back again. “Just be gentle with me,” he chuckles in a mocking tone. As his cock finally springs free, your eyes widen. He was long and thick with a silky smooth shaft coated in precum, his tip basically glowing red. Mingi waits patiently for you to take in the sight of him but his desire peeks through. His cock twitches upward as you stare at him. He chuckles softly as his arms lengthen out to the other two seats, grabbing the headrests to stabilize himself. “Take your time,” he groans out but in reality he wanted to shove his cock in your mouth, push it down your throat and listen to you gag, but he refrained.

You gently start to rub his cock, getting him warmed up to your touch. He was definitely living for the contact. His hips arch up into your palm. You finally decide to lower your head and take his tip into your mouth, just the tip. As he feels the damp cavern of your mouth take his tip his head lunges forward with a hiss. “That's it, good girl,” he groans and his praise only drives you further into insanity. His hands slowly travel down from the seats to you, holding the hair out of your face as you take him deeper. “Oh fuck yes, so good baby,” he groans as his grasp on your hair gets a little firmer. You hum in satisfaction which makes his cock vibrate. He moans and arches his hips up. “Sorry baby, I can't hold myself back,” he groans and tosses his head back as you bob on his length.

You felt his dick twitching in your mouth. It was clear he felt close but he must've had a similar mindset to you. “I want to prove to her that I can last,” is what you assumed so naturally you increased everything. The pressure of your sucking, depth, and speed. He moaned loudly and grabbed your head.

“Fuck baby! I'm gonna cum,” he groaned and shoved your head down, shoving his full length into your mouth. His hot seed filled your mouth, coming out in thick creamy waves. You gag on his length and hit his thigh, trying to tell him you needed to stop. He lifts your head off of him and you cough, cum and drool dripping down your mouth. “Sorry princess,” he leans down to your level before kissing your forehead. “You were just so cute, I couldn't hold back,” he explains as he rubs your back.

“It's okay,” you nod and Mingi smiles fondly at you. He brushes your hair back before kissing your forehead again.

“You did so good,” he grins before lifting you up by your hips. “And now, I'm going to fuck you so hard,” he smirks as he lays your down. He takes off his shirt and throws it somewhere in the car. “It's your reward for being such a good girl,” he smirks. “How do you want me to fuck you? Into the back seats, or maybe you'd like doggy style~?” He plays with a few strands of your hair. “Or do you want to try every position we can in this car~?” He smirks and you look up at him, surprised.

You nod shyly and his smirk turns into a devilish grin. “Oh you're a dirty girl aren't you?” He says before picking you up again, laying you against the back seats. “If you need me to stop or need some more water just ask alight princess?” He confirms as he pumps his cock a few times, preparing it for the events to come. He teases you for a while, slapping your clit with his cock and running his tip up your folds. He then reaches behind him to the backside of the front seat. He pulls out a condom and holds it between his teeth before ripping it open. Sliding the lubed ring around his cock. Once he has it fully on he lines back up to your entrance again. “Ready?” He asks and you nod with a content hum.

“Go slow,” you remind him and he nods. He slowly begins to push into you. You feel his tip alone stretching you out, his girth is unimaginable and you can't wait for it to be pumping into you.

[fiveht]

Proof of life (Adore pt 3)

Hello my sweet angel babies ♥️

I'm not going to be able to adequately express my gratitude for the steady stream of love (and concern, sorry) I've been receiving over the past couple of months. I'm so sorry I've been AWOL, it will definitely happen again. Because see, for me, I usually have to make a choice between social and creative fandom participation. My battery is small, and takes a long time to charge.

Thank you to everyone who's left comments and asks and DMs since I've been gone. I don't think I can respond to all of it, but rest assured those messages ping my cold, dead heart every time I see them.

So I'm gonna go out on a limb here. I did this same thing months and months ago, when I was working on Head Over Feet, and let me be clear: posting even a single word of a WIP goes against my every instinct and principle as an author. I am someone who likes to finish an entire story before I post any of it, and on top of that, I am NOT a fast writer, so the expectations that I'm setting up here might not be advisable. But I did it before and managed to finish the thing, and I want to give you guys something in exchange for being so unbelievably awesome, so here I am again.

This will probably be the only time I mention this story in public until it's finished and posted, and inquiries about my progress are unlikely to help with the writing process, I'm just saying. I reserve the right to change every last word of this before the final draft, and I also reserve the right to fall off the face of the planet and simply never finish it, as much as I will strive to prevent that from happening. Please be patient with me.

Anyway, here is my paltry offering to say thanks for the love: the (VERY rough) first ~1300 words of the third instalment of The Adventures of Soft Daddy and Danger Twink.

Sirius secures his handheld shower head to its holder at the edge of his clawfoot tub, and steps out carefully onto the bathmat. He shivers in the cool air outside the shower curtain; it's about twenty degrees below zero outside, so even if he could afford to run his ancient radiator at full blast, it probably wouldn't help much.

He dries himself off and checks his reflection in the mirror, turning his face this way and that as he tugs his hair out of the bun he'd piled it into to keep it dry during his shower. There's no need for makeup tonight, not when he's not even planning to put on clothes.

It's incrementally warmer when he steps out into the main room of his apartment. He gathers an array of splayed text books and notes from his bed and dumps them carelessly onto the couch, then closes his new laptop and places it delicately on the coffee table. It's the most expensive thing he owns, save for the Gucci backpack currently sitting in his wardrobe with a three-inch berth around it like his shoes and other bags might somehow contaminate it. It's weird owning rich-people stuff when you are still, objectively, broke as fuck.

He perches on the edge of his bed and sets his phone to charge, because his battery doesn't even last a day anymore, and he's going to need it this evening. He tucks it in next to his pillow and picks up his new toy.

The plug isn't much larger than the one he already has. A little longer, which is appealing, but no wider, so it shouldn't be a challenge to get it in comfortably. He disconnects it from its charger and hefts it in his hand, feeling the added weight from the electronics inside.

He picks up his phone, and hesitates when he sees the notification waiting for him.

Rieka: let's go out tomorrow

Rieka: the fact that we haven't been drunk since the term started is criminal

Rieka: we've had two chem labs and zero drinks

Sirius purses his lips, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. There's a fine line here, and he hasn't quite found it yet.

Me: got plans

Me: raincheck?

So complete avoidance is the best strategy, right?

Rieka: booooo 👎

He sighs, but at least she's not asking for an explanation. He opens a different conversation then, pushing all thoughts of Rieka Lupin into a tidy, sealed compartment, not to be opened during certain activities with a certain relative of hers.

Me: i'm ready

Me: are you in your office?

Daddy: Yup, I've got a few minutes

Daddy: Want me to call?

Instead of answering, Sirius hits the call button himself.

"Hey baby," Remus answers. His voice is already smooth and honey-sweet, and just from that, Sirius knows he's planning to lay it on thick tonight.

"Hi daddy," Sirius says with a smile. "Should I put it in now?"

There's a low chuckle over the line. "Are we feeling eager?"

"Always," Sirius says, laying back on his bed.

"Use the good lube I got you, it's gonna be in there a while."

He switches the call to speaker, and snags the bottle from his nightstand. "I threw out the old stuff, you've got me ruined for cheap lube."

"Only the best for that ass," Remus says, and Sirius can hear his smirk.

He gives the plug a liberal coating, running his fingers along its shape, his dick twitching just at the feel of the silky-smooth silicone, at the anticipation of what's about to happen. He spreads his legs wide, drawing one knee up to give himself easier access.

"Take it slow," Remus says, succinctly heading off Sirius' impulse to just shove the thing inside himself in one go. "Rub the tip against yourself, so you're nice and wet."

Sirius shuts his eyes as he obeys, sliding the slick end of the toy over his entrance. "Okay."

"Are you going to be a good boy for daddy tonight?"

"Uh-huh," Sirius says, teasing the very tip of the plug in and out of his hole.

"Tell me how."

"I'm not gonna touch."

"You're not gonna touch, and you're not gonna come."

"Yeah," Sirius says. His cock is starting to harden as his body tries to draw the plug inside. "Can I put it in, daddy?"

"Slow," Remus reminds him, "Slide it in nice and slow for me, baby."

Sirius catches his lip between his teeth and tries to push the plug in slowly, the way he knows Remus would do if he was here. 

The shower has left him relaxed and more than ready, and it's hard not to take advantage, just press the toy in to its limit because he can. But he's working on his patience -- under Remus' careful tutelage -- so he shuts his eyes and tries to savour it, the tease of the plug's rubber tip at his entrance, the slow stretch as he eases it past the slight resistance before he sighs, and his body eagerly accepts the intrusion.

"Mmmm," Sirius sighs as he settles the base of the plug flush against his entrance, shifting his hips and feeling the constant, dull pressure against his prostate.

"How's it feel?" 

"Good," Sirius says, splaying his legs out and just enjoying the pleasant fullness. It's been almost a week since Remus last fucked him, and that's just way too long. Christmas really spoiled him. He tugs the blankets up around him, because it's going to take some time before his body temperature is high enough to fight against the chill in his apartment.

"Have you tried out the settings at all?" Remus asks him, and Sirius picks up the phone, switching off speaker and holding it to his ear.

"No," he says, grinding his ass down against the bed to test the plug's reach inside him. "I thought you'd rather do the honours."

Remus hums, and Sirius hears the phone shifting in his grip. "I'm gonna turn it on, okay? Lowest setting."

"O--" Sirius stutters as the plug buzzes to life inside him, nestled snug against his prostate and sending little zings of pleasure down his legs. "Fuck that feels good. That's the lowest setting?"

"It is," Remus confirms. "Want to run through them all, see how high it goes? Or would you rather be surprised?"

"Mmmm, surprise me."

"Surprise it is," Remus says, and Sirius hears shuffling papers in the background as he prepares for his night class. Psychology 1001, Thursdays, 7-9:30PM. Two and a half hours of a lecture that Remus swears he's given so many times he could recite it in his sleep, so why not give himself something fun to focus on while he goes through the motions? 

Being privy to all of this brilliant, upstanding man's secret perversions is a privilege Sirius does not take lightly.

"You can turn it off from the app if you need to," Remus is saying, "Or you can call me and I'll switch it off. My phone's on vibrate, so I'll see it right away."

Sirius smiles to himself. "Got it," he says, though this is a rehashing of the rules that Remus had laid out when he'd brought the plug over last weekend. He'd called it a "late Christmas gift", as if he hadn't already given Sirius several thousand dollars worth of presents on Christmas morning.

There's more rustling over the line, the squeak of a chair. 

"Tell me again how you're going to be good tonight."

"I'm not gonna touch myself, and I'm not gonna come." The toy is still buzzing away inside him, making everything a little fuzzy at the edges. 

"Tell me why."

"'Cause daddy's in charge, even when he's not here."

"Good boy."

Sirius squirms with pleasure, his cock smearing a little drop of fluid on his belly as the toy hums insistently at his prostate.

"I have to head out," Remus says. "How do you feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, his abs tensing as he shifts his legs and the angle of the toy changes. "Excited."

"Me too," Remus says softly. "I'll talk to you soon, beautiful. Send me some pictures." With a low beep, the call disconnects.

[torpidx]

Fem Chuuya x fem reader

A MEETING'S DISTURBANCE

A/N : Reader is apart of the port mafia !!

WORD COUNT : 2879

CHARACTERS : Fem reader, Fem Chuuya Nakahara.

CONTAINS : Submissive reader, dominate Chuuya, degrading, praising, spanking, thigh spanking, crying, brief choking, aggressive Chuuya, fingering, nipple sucking, cunninglingus, edging.

EDITOR : @swtichblde

Sitting at home bored was not your ideal kind of day. You found yourself lounging on the cozy couch, surrounded by the quiet atmosphere of your shared home. The soft glow of your flat screen TV illuminated the room. In the background, a dull show played. Its storyline bored you, making you roll your eyes at the stupid jokes and toss your body around on the leather furniture. The day seemed long, waiting for your girlfriend to come home and entertain you.

Chuuya was working extended hours as of late. Keeping up with the demanding schedule given by the port mafia, she was often returning home exhausted and tired, neglecting you and simply falling asleep. As an executive, she needed to devote her complete focus. This only made you crave her presence more. You miss when you could enjoy spending time together without her rushing to bed as soon as she arrived home.

Letting out a dramatic sigh, you picked up your smartphone that was casually sitting on the coffee table. You unlocked the device, clicked on the call app icon with your fingers, searched for Nakahara's contact, and pressed the call button, bringing the phone to your ear in the hopes that she was not occupied. Your heart jumped with excitement as you heard the line ring. Concentrated on the sounds, you began praying that she would answer.

After a few more tones, the ringing ended, leading to her voicemail. Letting out an angry scoff, you called a second time, the phone stopped ringing once again. You felt extremely disappointed when you heard the voicemail message repeat, informing you that you were still unable to reach Chuuya.

“Fine, I didn’t want you to answer anyways.” You muttered quietly to yourself.

Your frustration began to build up in your tightly clenched fist that was around the phone, annoyed by the continuous stream of unanswered calls. Sitting in a tense silence that seemed to last forever, you gathered up the bravery to call her number again. You were relieved when she answered this time, causing a surge of excited happiness that made you smile involuntarily.

“You just don’t know how to be patient, huh?” You could not help but let out a small giggle at Chuuya's annoyed voice coming through the phone.

Even though she could not see you, you still shook your head in a playful manner, enjoying the excitement of teasing her.

“I missed you; I want you here.” You whispered your confession, hearing your girlfriend scoff over the line.

You could clearly visualize the unhappiness evident in her expression. The frown of her lips, the creased eyebrows, and the slight scrunch of her nose.

“I was in a particularly important meeting, you know. You got me kicked out all because you missed me?” You could not resist feeling relieved by the fact you got her removed.

It meant you could have her all to yourself all day, even if she is upset with you.

“How was I supposed to know you were in a meeti—” You were interrupted by her exploding on you.

You tried your best to hold in the laugh that threatened to spill.

“Shut up.” The phone call ended with a beep sound.

The laughter you were holding in came out, your hand reaching to cover your mouth, rolling around on the couch happily.

***

Chuuya's footsteps echoed in the quiet hallway as she made her way towards the apartment that the two of you shared. Her hand found the familiar weight of her keys in her pocket, the metal jangled softly as she approached the door, the lock clicking open with a gentle twist. Pushing the door inward, she stepped inside.

Her gaze flickered across the living room, noting the familiar belongings and the trace of your presence beside the couch. It was then that her eyes landed on you, standing there in one of her oversized t-shirts, the fabric hanging loosely over your frame.

In the cool air, your nipples were visibly hard against the soft fabric, a delicate blush rising on your skin. The image caught her attention, drawing her in as you noticed her movements and turned towards her.

The shirt you wore shifted slightly as you took a step closer, revealing more of your bare legs and the hint of light pink lace peeking out from under the hem. Chuuya's expression shifted, her initial irritation softening just a bit at the vulnerable sight before her. Words tumbled from her lips. A mix of frustration and affection battling for dominance as she spoke, a hint of challenge in her tone.

"Do not touch me without permission," she started, her hand reaching out to pinch your cheeks together firmly, your lips puckering. "You don't deserve it after what you pulled today."

The touch was almost possessive, a silent demand for your attention. Before you could reach out to her, she shifted her hold. Her thumb was now brushing against your lower lip, causing it to pout ever so slightly.

"Not only am I pissed at you," she added, "Mori is pissed at the both of us, so I am not feeling very considerate."

Her grip on your face loosened, falling to your neck, the grip replacing itself there. She squeezed your neck, holding the grasp until she heard you gasp for air.

You let out a soft whine, your gaze locked with hers as she held you in place. The pressure on your neck tightened, a mixture of possessiveness and desire weaving through her. Then, without warning, she leaned in, her lips capturing yours before you could protest or respond. The kiss was demanding. Her tongue darted out, brushing against your lower lip for a silent invitation.

You refrained from touching her, feeling a wave of anticipation coursing through you as Chuuya gently guided you towards the plush leather couch. The soft material welcomed you once again as you sank into its embrace, the rich scent mingling with her cherry perfume.

With a graceful movement, she settled herself on your lap. Her body fits against yours like two missing puzzle pieces finding their perfect match. The sensation of her lips on yours felt electrifying; it sent shivers down your spine. Her black pencil skirt rode up with the movement, the sight of her black pantyhose hugging her curves made you want to rebel against her request, but you held back.

As she removed her long black coat, her slender figure became visible. A quiet sound in the air suggesting the sense of excitement that was felt by both of you. Your gaze followed the curves of her body. Her bright red hair framed her face, standing out against her dark outfit. With a gentle touch, she lifted her hat, letting the rest of her hair flow down around her shoulders. The quiet sound of the hat touching the coffee table resounded in the room.

Chuuya's lips formed a subtle smile and her alluring eyes hinted that she knew about your longing for her. She took pleasure in the restraint you showed from touching her.

She purposefully started to unbutton her smooth vest. Each button was released gently, making you audibly gulp in reaction. With her slender fingers, she confidently unlatched the final button on the garment. Turning to her clean, white blouse next, she carefully repeated the previous actions on this new set of buttons.

You could not look away as her skin slowly revealed itself to you. Captivated by her every movement, at last, the final button released its grasp and the shirt dropped elegantly to the floor, leaving her on your lap with the only thing left on her upper body being her black sports-bra.

“Can I touch you now?” You pleaded, your lip quivering, shifting in your place to get some sort of friction.

“Ah-ah, not yet.” the ginger whispered while silencing your pleas with a delicate touch of her finger.

Chuuya's eyes twinkled mischievously, quickly taking her bra off, unveiling her breasts. The view was mesmerizing as always, making your mouth water, eager to express your love for your beautiful girlfriend.

Smiling seductively, she gestured to you and whispered. "Be a good girl and show me how much you've missed these."

You leaned in eagerly, as if famished, clutching her gentle waist while your tongue darted out to lick one of her firm nipples. Her hand reached around your head, pulling at your hair to urge you to suck on her tender breast. Soft moans escaped your lips as you savoured the pinch on your scalp. Her cherry fragrance added to the pleasure, your eyes rolling back in response. Your lips latched around her tanned bud; your desperate moans now muffled.

“You’re so pathetic.” Nakahara cooed. She leaned into your tender bites and kisses you placed on her chest, sending a shiver down her back as she lowered her head to meet your gaze.

“You want to be my desperate slut, hmm?” she hummed, “I bet you called me here just for this.” You nod eagerly as she lets go of your hair, softly stroking your head.

After leaving her sensitive nipple, your lips began a gentle path of kisses across her chest. You teased her skin with your touch before reaching her other nipple. Reflecting your previous actions, your lips gave the same treatment, although now, with a slight change. Your eyes closed softly, tasting her sweet flavour on your tongue.

“Stop.” Chuuya's sudden, forceful action swiftly pulled you away, using your hair as a tool once more.

The rough yank caught you off guard, sending a jolt of surprise down to your core. The unexpected motion made you inhale sharply, causing a gasp to slip past your swollen lips.

“Get on your hands and knees and arch your back for me. Make sure your ass is up.” The ginger stood up, her arms crossing around her chest, staring down at you.

Your body trembling, you moved down the couch, raising your hips in the air. The t-shirt you were wearing raised up your body, showing off the pink, lace panties that decorated your bottom. Grinning to yourself, you wiggle your hips to tease until you feel a harsh slap against your thigh. You had sprung forward by the sheer force, choking out a moan.

“Don’t be fucking needy.” Her hand rubbed against the red handprint that now decorated your thigh.

Her hand gently moved towards your heat, teasingly dipping to your inner thigh. Chuuya’s other hand, however, lifted into the air before slamming down onto your ass this time, enjoying your loud cries.

“So loud, my pathetic girl.” She teased, rubbing your rear in bittersweet sympathy before smacking it again, twice as hard.

She laughed at your poor attempt of a clear moan, a smirk evident on her face. Her fingers finally made their way to your clothed pussy, feeling the soaked fabric. She grinned, bending her body to get close to your ear.

"I haven't even touched you and you're already so wet for me.” She whispered, feeling the couch sink down further as Chuuya sat behind you.

Her hands gripped at your hips to push you forward, giving herself a better view of your wet heat. Dainty yet scruffy fingers slid your lace panties to the side, a gasp escaped your lips as you felt Chuuya blow cool air against your cunt, causing you to clench around nothing.

Her tongue danced in a tantalizing rhythm, tracing slow circles against your sensitive clit. Your body reacted instantly, your hips eagerly arching with each slow movement. You craved the satisfaction that had been withheld until now. Her gentle touch along with your quickening breaths made you desperate. Your attempts to grind against the warm tongue that was teasing your clit grew more frequent.

“Chuuya, more!” You whined, but to no avail. Instead, her hand came down against your thigh once more.

You screamed out a silent sob, your head falling against the leather armrest of the couch.

“What did I say about getting needy? you’ll take what I fucking give you, brat.” She reminded you of her previous statement, the aggression in her tone evident as she gave you another harsh slap on your bare skin.

The intense feeling only increased your excitement, mewls leaving your throat in response. She carefully bowed her head towards your sex once more. Every intentional movement of her tongue on your clit caused waves of pleasure to run through your body. Her stern voice made you cry, her touch only made you cry out more.

Her hands held onto your hips tightly, causing you to arch your back further.

Her tongue worked away at your pleasure spots. You were on the brink of your orgasm and Chuuya knew. Your juices dripped down her chin, your pussy throbbing in excitement. Yet right when you were on the verge of reaching your release, Chuuya's warm mouth pulled away from your wetness. The abrupt loss of her mouth made you choke back another sob.

“Please, let me cum, Chuuya! Please, please! Please, I have been a good girl, haven’t I? I did everything you asked!” You begged.

Chuuya hummed, her fingers circling your clit before responding. “You want it that badly? Fine.”

Her teasing middle finger entered you, its touch causing you to quiver. As she found your g-spot, the sensation spread throughout your body, finally getting what you wanted. She teased your sensitive tissue, applying just the right amount of pressure to send waves of ecstasy coursing through your core.

Moving at a deliberate pace, Chuuya savoured each moment of your arousal, building anticipation for what was to come next. Slowly but surely, she intensified her movements, granting you even more stimulation.

Adding a second finger, her index, she navigated inside of you, scissoring your insides and slowly stretching you open. The excitement inside you grew stronger as you approached your orgasm, the glorious feeling she had been edging you towards before.

Gentle and delicate kisses were placed along your exposed back. Quiet hums left her mouth, satisfied by the mess below her. Through every gesture and touch, she led you to your release. You screamed out, your orgasm hitting you strong. Your fluids coated her fingers, but even after you came, she continued to move her long fingers inside of you.

Licking a path up your back, she inserted a third finger, her ring, causing you to gasp and attempt to pull away from her touch, overstimulated. Her thumb pressed against your clit causing you to sink your teeth into the plush of your arm to stifle any cries.

“You wanted this, baby; I’m simply giving you what you asked of me.” She teased.

Chuuya placed a bite to the flesh on your ass, liking the spot before moving her fingers in and out of your sensitive opening with more intensity. Your eyes closed in delight, a second orgasm rising within you. Her thumb began to circle your clit with each thrust of her fingers.

Your second release washed over your body. Your legs shook as you gasped softly, tears streaming down your face from the intense sensation you were experiencing.

“Too much, Chuuya! Please, no more!” You begged with a cry, but she continued moving her fingers.

Her speed quickened while her other hand reached out and gripped your hair, lifting your head up while you sniffled. Salty tears entered your mouth, whining and crying for your girlfriend to stop and spare you the punishment.

“Last one, my darling, you’ve been so good.” She chirped, you eagerly nodded in response as she slipped a kiss on your wet cheek.

One more finger slipped inside of you, her pinky, all pressing down on your g-spot. You screamed out with whatever voice you had left. The stimulation causing your third release to rise, finally allowed it to snap. Your orgasm shook you to your core. Your legs trembling as a loud, broken moan escapes from your mouth. Your hips at this point were limp, your limbs twitching and weak.

You quivered when Chuuya slipped her fingers out of you, wiping her hands on the t-shirt that, now, was all bunched up by your shoulders.

"I could never really be mad at you, baby. I missed you too. I apologize I haven't been around much," she whispered softly, her gentle touch lingered on your cheek before her plush lips pressed against your tear-stained skin, planting a kiss.

“I know work makes you exhausted. Mori expects too much!” You exclaimed through your broken voice.

Your tired hand reached out, stroking her silky ginger hair, while her hand gently touched your face, wiping your tears away.

“It seems like I have been neglecting you, my dear.” Chuuya admitted in a teasing manner, making you laugh.

Gradually, you raised yourself upright, your lower body shaking.

“You’re such a baby.” You softly teased back, before leaning in to share a tender kiss with the woman. Her lips returned the affection, the familiar warmth and joy of her grin evident.

“Oh yeah, you’re dealing with Mori for the rest of the week.” One final peck was pressed against your now offended expression, cursing out your girlfriend who was already walking away towards the bathroom of your shared bedroom.

[whxtedreams]

Unfiltered Adoration

A Poets Love

Inspired by rupi kaur poem:

You must have a honeycomb For a heart How else could a man Be this sweet Page 191 - the sun and her flowers

Word Count: 2.6k

Tags: Tooth rotting fluff, eye spy game, Joel and Sarah, road trip, embarrassed!Joel

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

There is something profoundly soothing about being bathed in the warm glow of sunlight, especially when his rough, calloused hand rests on your thigh.

In this moment, it is all you need. The world outside their little bubble might be a chaotic, uncertain place, but here, with him, you find peace and contentment.

This quiet life, simple yet perfect, is all you ever wanted.

His thumb gently stokes back and forth across your skin in a soothing rhythm, his mind elsewhere as he hums deep in thought. His free hand rests on the steering wheel, tapping idly in time with the music that plays softly on the radio.

The sky is painted in a glorious display of orange, pink, and gold as the sun begins its descent. Birds dance and dip in the sky above, their wings fluttering in a graceful arc as they head back to their nests, signaling the end of the day.

Joel let out a soft sigh, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. He glances to the backseat at Sarah for a moment before returning his gaze to the road. His grip on the steering wheel tightens, his eyes focused on the stretch of road ahead.

Joel glances into the backseat again, where Sarah is lounging lazily, her head resting against the seat as she reads. He taps his fingers against the steering wheel, contemplating before asking her, "Car? Cab? Cow?"

Sarah shakes her head once more, her expression still filled with amusement as she revels in her father's struggle to find the right answer. The corners of her mouth turn up into a slight smile.

"You're getting closer," she teases as she flips the page of her book.

Joel groans in mock frustration, but a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "You're killing me here, kid," he mutters, shifting in his seat as he tries to come up with the correct answer. "You said I'm getting closer, so that means I'm warm, right? Is it a caravan?"

“Nope.”

"Do you even have a word, or are you just messing with me?"

Sarah shoots her father a mischievous smirk from the back seat, a playful glint in her eyes as she responds, "I do, I just think you need glasses."

Joel lets out a mock gasp, feigning offense at his daughter's comment. "Ouch, kid, that hurts," he says, putting a hand against his chest in exaggerated despair. "You think I need glasses? I'll have you know my vision is perfectly fine, thank you very much."

 You interlace your fingers through his hand on your thigh and give it a gentle squeeze. You look over at Joel, a sweet, innocent expression on your face and your voice brims with playful affection. "I don't know," you say with a chuckle, "you were having trouble with that crossword last night."

Joel glances over at you, his eyes soft and lips pouting in a pleading expression that he knows all too well is enough to melt your heart. "You're meant to be on my side darlin’" he says with feigned disappointment, a playful glimmer in his eyes as he tries to keep a straight face.

Joel's beauty is a paradox - simple yet extraordinary, ordinary yet captivating. His eyes, although sharp, hold a depth of kindness. The strong, resolute line of his jaw speaks of determination and resilience. The soft curve of his lips can turn up in playful grins or settle into a stern, serious expression. His presence, though weighed down by the burden of the world he carries, radiates a sense of warmth and strength. Being by his side, witnessing the various facets of his character, makes you feel undeniably lucky.

A playful smile graces your lips as you add, "Sorry, babe, just telling the truth.” Your tone light-hearted and affectionate. As Joel rolls his head back to the road, you catch a glimpse of his widening smile, and the love and happiness radiating from his expression are undeniable. He pretends to be frustrated, but there's no hiding the fact that he finds joy in your banter. There's a soft chuckle that escapes him, betraying his feigned annoyance.

As the sun dips below the horizon and the night sky blankets the world, Joel continues to hazard guesses for the elusive word, his hand tenderly playing with yours in between attempts. His focus is split between the game and the road ahead, but a hint of amusement and fondness can be detected in his voice with each new guess.

You turn away from Joel, your smile warm with affection, and direct your gaze out the window. The expansive fields stretch out before you, a canvas of lush green grass and an array of colorful wildflowers. The soft moonlight bathes the scene in a serene, almost enchanting glow, making the gentle swaying of the grass and flowers a calming sight to behold.

The expansive fields offer a welcome divergence from the cramped, urban landscapes of the city. The wide-open space stretches out before you, providing ample room for your mind to wander and your spirits to soar. The peaceful scenery seems at odds with the playful tension in the car, as Joel continues to wrack his brain for the correct word.

You pause for a moment, contemplating the word before suggesting, "What about cattle?" Your voice is light and thoughtful as you make the suggestion.

Sarah lets out a theatrical groan from the backseat, her eyes rolling dramatically as she mutters, "Finally." Her response is filled with exaggerated annoyance, a hint of mockery evident in her tone.

Joel turns to glare at Sarah in the back seat, his body making an audible crack with the swift motion. Frustration laces his voice as he retorts, "What the hell, Sarah? I guessed cow five times!"

"I heard you, but you didn't say 'cattle,'" she clarifies, pulling a blanket over her legs.

Joel lets out a disgruntled grunt "They're the same thing!" he argues, his voice rising slightly in agitation.

You find yourself unable to suppress the amused chuckle that escapes your lips, watching Joel's face as it displays a mixture of annoyance and playful exasperation.

You turn away from Joel's frustrated expression, resting your head against the car door as you listen to the ongoing argument between him and Sarah. The sound of their voices rises and falls, filled with the passionate debate over the game's rules. Despite the slightly absurd nature of the discussion, there's a sense of familiarity and comfort in their banter, like a well-worn routine.

You blink slowly, your eyes still heavy with sleep as you gradually reorient yourself. Your surroundings come into focus, and you discover that you must have dozed off, your head resting against the car door. The familiar scent of Joel's jacket envelopes you, so comforting.

The memory of how you ended up with the jacket around you is a bit hazy, but the warmth and comfort it provides are undeniable. Gazing out the window, you notice the soft glow of a nearby gas station, its warm, incandescent light cutting through the otherwise dark and deserted stretch of road.

You sit up slowly, your back protesting from the stiffness and discomfort brought on by the prolonged position and realize that Joel is no longer in his seat. You cast a glance towards the backseat, finding Sarah fast asleep, the blanket tossed carelessly over her as she snores softly.

You stretch your limbs, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as the car door swings open and Joel settles back into his seat. He's carrying an armful of snacks, a variety of chips, candies, and packaged meals, and his expression is a mix of sheepishness and amusement. He shrugs apologetically before glancing over at you, a small, guilty smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Joel fumbles with the large variety of snacks he has in his lap, trying to balance them all in his arms as he lets out a nervous chuckle. He looks at you with a hint of embarrassment on his face, his voice rambling as he explains himself. "I, uh, well I didn't want to wake either of you and I didn't know what you wanted so... I may have gone a little overboard," he admits, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

You smile as a yawn escapes you, the sleep still clinging to your body. You reach out and take a wrapped sandwich from the top of the pile in Joel's lap, the plastic crinkling faintly under your touch. Your voice is soft and sleepy as you murmur, "You're so sweet."

Joel's lips curve into a broad grin at your words, a shy but pleased smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. He glances away, a faint blush creeping up his neck, trying to hide the effect your words had on him. He fumbles with the keys in his hand, his attention suddenly focused on starting the car as he attempts to compose himself.

Joel mumbles under his breath, a hint of embarrassment tingeing on his voice as the car starts up with a low thrum. "Shut up," he quips.

You chuckle at Joel's muttered response, shaking your head affectionately. However, your humor is quickly replaced by a feeling of contentment as his hand reaches out and intertwines with yours once more. You gently squeeze his hand, feeling the familiar warmth and pressure of his touch.

 This is where his hand belongs, intertwined with yours. A perfect fit.

By the time the car pulls up in front of a small, modest motel, the moon has risen high in the night sky, casting a silvery, otherworldly glow on the surroundings. The radio clock on the dashboard flips over to 11 PM. Exhaustion hangs heavily on you, making the sight of the motel a welcome sight.

After checking in at the front desk and gathering your bags, Joel carefully lifts the sleeping Sarah into his arms, holding her close against his chest as he carries her into the room. He holds her with a tender, gentle grip, his fatherly care apparent in his actions. Once inside the room, Joel places her down onto one of the beds, tucking her in with a kiss to her forehead.

Joel turns away from Sarah and his gaze lands on you. You're standing just inside the bathroom doorway, your eyes silently watching him as he moves around the room. There's a moment of silence between you before he approaches, his footsteps heavy yet deliberate on the carpeted floor.

Joel's arms wrap around your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck as you stand at the sink brushing your teeth. You can feel the tickle of his beard and the warmth of his breath on your skin. His embrace is soft and affectionate, a wordless moment of connection. The feeling of his smile against your skin is evident, the curve of his lips pressed firmly against your neck.

As Joel gently sways you in his arms, his movements slow and steady, it feels as if your heart is being consumed by a sweet, aching sensation. The depth of his affection, the overwhelming tenderness he pours into this moment, is so overwhelming that it borders on painful. The love that seems to pour out of his every action leaves you feeling both impossibly light and impossibly heavy all at once.

His head raises, and he meets your gaze in the mirror, his eyes locking with yours. The unfiltered adoration that you see reflected in his gaze sends a wave of intense emotion crashing through you, almost like a physical force. It feels as if your heart is expanding in your chest, filling with a mixture of tenderness and love. For a moment, you feel as if you can barely breathe, overwhelmed by the magnitude of his feelings for you.

The thought crosses your mind as you gaze at Joel in the bathroom mirror. How could someone be this beautiful, so full of love? There's a sense of wonder and awe in the realization that he must be made of something different than you. It's as if he were crafted from a completely different mold, his very being designed to possess and express such a profound depth of affection.

The thought that Joel must have a heart crafted from the most delectable materials, like honeycomb, chocolate, and candy, almost seems to perfectly describe his sweetness. It's as if his love and affection are so pure and genuine that they could only have originated from something so utterly, irresistibly sweet.

There's a sense of wonder in the idea that such a heart could exist, one that radiates such a powerful, honeyed goodness.

After you and Joel have finished showering, you find yourselves in bed, his hands exploring the curves and lines of your face with a tender, almost reverent touch. His eyes sparkle with a mix of affection and wonder, his gaze fixed upon you as if you are the most precious thing in the world. It's as if he can barely believe that you are real, the touch of his fingers tracing over your skin filled with a soft, awed wonder.

His confession reaches your ears as you're on the cusp of sleep. His hand gently caresses your head, his touch soothing and calming. Joel's voice is soft, a quiet murmur as he whispers, "I think I want you to move in with me," a vulnerable, tender admission.

Your eyes open as he speaks, a rush of surprise and wonder washing over you. You meet his gaze, his soft smile making him look like an angel in the dim, warm glow of the outside lamp as it filters through the window by the bed. Your heart skips a beat as you take in his expression, the tenderness and vulnerability in his eyes.

As you gaze into his eyes, his soft smile and tender expression like a heavenly apparition, the words 'no' or 'maybe' don't cross your mind. The thought of turning him down, of refusing an offer so heartfelt and sincere, seems impossible.

Even though he's a broken soul, a fallen angel in some sense, there is still a radiant beauty in him. In that moment, you feel as if saying 'yes' is the only option, as if your very soul is responding to the pull of his love.

In that moment, as you nod in agreement, his lips gently meet yours. The kiss is soft and sweet. It feels as if a lock has clicked into place, solidifying your decision and cementing your commitment to this new step in your relationship.

His lips, soft and tender against yours, seem to confirm the fanciful notion that he must be made of all things sweet. The taste of him, the way he kisses, everything about his mouth feels like a sweet, delectable treat, addictive and irresistible.

You can't help but let out a soft, breathless chuckle into the kiss.

When he pulls back, he looks at you with amusement in his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“What?” He huffs.

“You’re just- sweet.”

Joel lets out a low, melodramatic groan, rolling his eyes before he turns onto his back, pulling you with him. You settle against his side, your hand instinctively finding its place on his chest, right over his heart.

The steady ticking of the clock and the faint, constant hum of the traffic on the highway outside fill the room with a soft, ambient soundtrack. Joel's breathing deepens and slows, the rise and fall of his chest steady and predictable. For a moment, you think he's asleep, but then you hear a soft mumble, a barely audible murmur passing his lips.

“You make me sweet.”

Notes

This has been in the drafts for months – don’t look at me. Coming back to this lil one shot series as they’re so sickly in love and deserve my attention. Also I had no intention of them moving in together but then suddenly Joel says that and well- he gets what he wants lol.

[strwberri-milk]

First Aid Isn't Cheap

Rafayel x GN!Reader || Comf || 2 167 words

Rafayel can’t see again. It’d be helpful if you could stay with him for a few nights until he gets his vision back.

Thomas’s text glows at you as you pack your bag, not bothering to check twice what you’re bringing. Thankfully this time Rafayel’s self inflicted blindness falls in line with a week long break you’ve been given at work, allowing you to devote all your time to him as you see fit.

When you arrive, you find Rafayel happily working in his studio as though there’s nothing wrong. The only way you know he can’t see is when he turns in the direction of you when you open the door, brows furrowing as he tries to figure out who it is. His eyes are unfocused, looking in your direction but not at you in that intense way that he typically does.

“Oh, you made it. Didn’t Thomas just text you? That was fast,” he says as he walks over to you, pulling you and your overnight bag into a hug.

“I was worried you’d trip and break your ankle to add on to the list of things I need to take care of you for. Knowing you you’d try to milk this to keep me here as long as possible,” you scold, still hugging him back as much as you can.

“Don’t worry – I told you already this is pretty common. I’ll be fine. If you don’t want to babysit me you really don’t have to. I can take care of myself.”

You stare at him open mouthed, glad that he can’t see the expression on your face.

You know that this happens to him a lot. You know it’s a result of him overworking himself. You know that he can take care of himself, and you know that technically speaking, he doesn’t need you to watch over him. Rafayel, for all your grievances, is actually incredibly self sustainable. He’s more than capable of taking care of himself, a certain independence about him that you don’t think you’d ever be able to get rid of.

That doesn’t mean that you don’t worry about him though.

You drop your bag, Rafayel turning back to discern if he can figure out what’s happening. He can make out general forms and colours, brain connecting the two to get a general idea of what he’s looking at. He’s upset by the fact that he can’t see your face but having you near him will just have to sate him for now.

“Do you need help with that?” he asks, reaching down just to brush his fingers against your hand.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just go set up in your room. Your phone is near you right? Call me if you need anything while I put my stuff away,” you say quickly, turning out of his studio to head to his bedroom.

You’re glad that he couldn’t see you. You’re glad your voice didn’t waver. You’re glad that you can cry in peace in his bedroom because is its own building. He wouldn’t be able to hear you unless he was in there with you, arms wrapped around your waist as he tries to coax you into telling him what’s wrong. The worst part is you know it’ll work, that all your anger and anxiety towards him will dissipate the second his voice hits your ears and this is the only chance you’ll have to try and stay strong against him.

You unpack your things, opening his closet and smiling at the fact that the clothes you forgot last time are still there. They’re freshly laundered as well, hanging amongst his things as though they’ve always been there. It just makes your heart hurt even more, so distracted by your own thoughts that you don’t hear him walk into his room.

Just as you thought, he wraps his arms around your waist, chin sitting your shoulder as he nuzzles against you.

“I’m gonna go take a shower. Do you wanna join me?” he asks, peppering your cheek in kisses.

On a normal day you’d jump at the opportunity, regardless of whether or not things are going to escalate but right now you don’t think you can manage it. You shake your head, Rafayel feeling the movement against his nose.

“Do you need me in there? If you do I will.”

Your eyes stay focused straight ahead, tidying up his surprisingly neat closet just to keep your hands focused. His brow furrows as he realises there’s something simmering just beneath the surface, He decides not to ask right now, hoping you’d talk to him once you’re ready.

“If I do, I’ll call for you. Promise.”

You nod and he reluctantly lets you go, a little distracted by the way you felt as he showers. He tries to figure out what could have happened – you didn’t say that there was anything strange happening at work and the last time the two of you were together you were perfectly fine. All he knows is that he thinks you need him right now, wanting to get out of the water for once to come back to your side.

Shortly after Rafayel heads into the washroom you hear the doorbell ring. You make your way over to his studio entrance, watching a delivery person drop off a giant bundle of food before driving off. You wait for them to leave before grabbing whatever it is he seems to have ordered for dinner, bringing it back to the bedroom to unpack.

You smile at the selection of food once you recognise the logo. It’s all your favourites. Of course, he was going to be sweet enough to order things you want to eat, even if he couldn’t read the menu on his phone. He hates talking to people on a good day but you know in order to get this spread he had to call the restaurant himself to place the order, probably doing it all for you. Maybe he knows you’re upset and he’s trying to butter you up and, just like every other time, you know you’re falling for it.

“Foods here?” he asks, sniffing a little as he comes beside you. You set everything up on a desk in his room, pulling a seat over and guiding him to sit down.

“I made you a plate of your favourites,” you say in response, handing him some cutlery as you take his hand to show him where everything is. He pouts a little, looking at you as he puts his free hand on yours.

“Feed me? I can’t see. I need you to pity me a little,” he teases, making you roll your eyes.

“Fine. Here.”

You bring a spoon to his mouth, gently guiding him to make sure he actually does manage to eat. You resist the urge to tease him, taking a bite yourself once he’s got his in his mouth.

“I’ve been staying up for a while to work on my next series,” he starts in way of an explanation.

“I’ve just been so excited to finish it that I haven’t really been sleeping or eating. It’s been a while since the last time I’ve been this motivated to work on something. Did you see some of them when you came in? How did you think they looked?” he asks excitedly, clearly anticipating your answer.

You think back to what you do remember, trying to see if you can conjure up anything before shaking your head in defeat.

“I didn’t notice them. I was more focused on you.”

Rafayel smirks, bringing your hand up to press a kiss against your knuckles.

“You’re quite the flatterer. Stuck in a room of beautiful art and all you can look at is the artist slaving away.”

“Course I am. You overworked yourself again.”

A sprinkle of frustration sinks into your words, Rafayel catching the tone but not wanting to push his luck by playing it off. His grip tightens on your hand, nuzzling his cheek against it.

“I’m fine. The doctor said that it looked better this time than other times. That’s a good thing.”

You don’t feel as reassured by his words as he wanted you to.

Night falls around the two of you, Rafayel’s arms around your shoulders keeping you securely against his chest. You can’t really fall asleep, mind racing with thoughts as you trace aimless shapes on the blanket. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back, steady in his slumber.

Without warning, you feel tears staring to slide down your cheeks. You bring a hand up to wipe at your tears, muffling the sobs that come unprovoked. Here in silence being held by the man who means more than life to you you can’t help but cry for him. At him.

You wish he took better care of himself. You wish he paid more attention to his body. You wish that he didn’t do things that made you worry and worry, stomach tying itself in knots as your brain continuously goes to the worst-case scenario. He really could hurt himself like this but his flippant attitude towards himself just makes it worse. It’s probably going to be impossible for you to convince him to take better care of himself, an absolute slave to his own whims.

Rafayel wakes up shortly thereafter, you unaware until he somehow manages to turn you to face him. He shushes you gently, hands reaching to brush away the tears on your face. He didn’t need to see you to know you having long memorised each and every part of your body. You want to push him away, yell some sense into him but you know that it’s not really his fault.

“What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

“No. Nothing like that. I just…Rafayel…you can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Last time this happened you said maybe it’d stick. Then today you said the doctor said that your eyes are better this time than other times but why does there need to be other times?”

“You’re worried about me,” Rafayel exhales.

“Yes!” you say a little louder than intended, sniffling as you try not to cry as much.

“I worry about you. And before, I just had to worry about smaller things. Then, I find out you love using rare and almost dangerous materials but thankfully, you can fight and thankfully, you have other ways to source your pigments. I can protect you from those things. I can fight too. But when you do things like this to yourself I can’t do anything about it. How – how can I help you if you won’t even help yourself?” you babble, hands knotting in his shirt as you cry.

“I just want you to be healthy and well. I don’t want to worry about you going blind forever. I wouldn’t love you any less, I promise, but I don’t want you to lose something so important to you.

“You always talk about the world so vividly. How things smell, how they look, how it feels against your skin. I want you to be able to tell me about how you experience the world unabashedly. I want you to be healthy and well. I don’t want to keep getting texts about how you’re feeling lightheaded from fasting for three days unintentionally or your doctor asking me to pick you up because you’ve strained another muscle from painting in the same position for hours on end.”

He listens attentively as you cry to him, brushing back your bangs and cupping your face in his hands. He nods empathetically, softly agreeing with you whenever you need a break before continuing to rant at him.

“I’m sorry my love,” he says, kissing your forehead.

“I’m not used to having someone worry about me this much. I’ve been by myself for so long. You understand, don’t you?” he asks, thumb rubbing against your cheek.

“I forget sometimes that I have someone who cares about me. That if I’m hurt, you’re hurt. I forget that as much as I love you, you love me just as much because I don’t feel worthy of your affections.”

“You are,” you say stubbornly, burying your face in his neck.

“I love you so much. That’s why I worry so much.”

“I know, I know. I promise I’ll get better for you.”

He continues to repeat his promise as many times as you need to hear it, mad at himself for upsetting you so much. You manage to exhaust yourself from crying soon enough, snoring lightly in his arms when you finally fall asleep. He buries his nose in your hair, taking in a deep breath of you as he holds you tightly.

The tension finally slips off of your shoulders as he swears that this time will be the last time. He just wants to give you everything you want, knowing that if it’d make you happy he’d do anything.

[ghcstao3]

Have you ever done a Vampire!Soap with Human ghost before 👀👀

i don’t believe i have! that has now been changed

-

Let it be known that Ghost is not a coward.

Over the years he’s grown desensitized to so much that hardly anything scares him. He knows only how to incite fear, not feel it, and he certainly has no fear of Soap.

It just happens that the idea of the sergeant being a vampire makes him a little… squeamish.

Most days, Ghost can forget about the fact that his sergeant isn’t human. He can forget about the spare bags of blood stored in the back of the common room fridge just for him, he can forget that his strength is superhuman when Soap still loses their spars.

He can forget, until they’re deployed and Ghost sees Soap sinking his teeth into the enemy, ripping open their throats with fangs instead of any manmade weapon. He can forget, until Soap’s eyes, normally a vivid, lively blue, flash a bloodthirsty red as he feeds, as he has yet to come down from a rampage.

Ghost isn’t afraid of those moments, he’s not. He’s not afraid of Soap. The sergeant just makes Ghost feel all the more human.

But whatever it is he feels, whatever it is that’s making him wary, Ghost never confronts it. He never lets show his discomfort around Soap whenever he’s suddenly too aware of the man’s vampirism. Doesn’t need to.

They work just fine together.

Until it all comes to a head, after a particularly gruelling mission.

They’d underestimated the demand of the mission, landing Ghost and Soap alone, exhausted, after nearly two weeks of nonstop action. Their transport is hours out, Soap has been incessantly scratching his arms, and Ghost may or may not be in need of medical attention.

Overall, things could be better. Significantly.

“Would you quit that?” Ghost snaps. The sound of the scraping of Soap’s nails against his skin is grating.

Soap freezes. Slowly lowers his arms, revealing red, irritated lines left behind. He looks almost sheepish, hunching in on himself in a way that makes him look small, shy, like Ghost has never known him to be.

“Sorry,” the sergeant apologies. “Haven’t fed in a while.”

Ghost frowns, turning to finally give Soap a proper look.

Soap looks paler than usual, cheeks gaunt, under-eyes a deep purple. Ghost’s brows knit together.

“You didn’t bring any spare?”

Soap shrugs helplessly. “Don’t usually need it. Usually there’s hostiles to solve that problem,” he mutters.

“But you have some back on base, yeah?”

Soap nods. Ghost sighs.

“That’ll do, then.”

Ghost has the brief idea to offer help, but it’s disregarded almost as fast as it crosses his mind. He reasons he can’t because he’s already bleeding—and he’s sure Soap can smell it—but Ghost knows it’s not really the why.

When transport finally arrives, Ghost is constantly sending glances over to Soap, who drags his feet as they climb into the Humvee. He throws out concerned looks the entire way back, but eventually loses the chance to continue worrying when they return to base, as Ghost is dragged away to have his wounds checked.

He forgets about it, like everything else to do with the vampire, until Ghost discovers Soap pacing in the common room in front of a refrigerator that had been just about completely torn apart.

“Soap,” Ghost calls.

Soap doesn’t answer.

“Johnny!” Ghost barks.

The sergeant stops mid-step. He pivots on his heel to face Ghost, chewing on nails with fangs that somehow look duller. His eyes are wide, and noticeably crimson, and the wild look on his face almost has Ghost… scared.

“Sit-rep,” Ghost demands weakly.

Soap is trembling. “Someone threw it all out.”

Ghost could very well guess what he’s referring to. Still, he asks, “Threw what out, sergeant?”

“My…” Soap casts an almost forlorn glance toward the fridge and its emptied-out contents. “It’s gone.”

Ghost huffs. “When’s the last time you’ve fed, Johnny?”

Again, that timid expression reappears on Soap’s face. He wraps his arms around himself, though it does nothing to hide the way he shakes.

“A month,” Soap murmurs.

Ghost doesn’t like that he drinks blood. Doesn’t like that it’s another person’s life force that fuels him. But he still feels pity. Sympathy.

Vampire or not—he’s still Soap. And he looks on the brink of a second death.

“Need to be more responsible, sergeant,” Ghost says carefully, slowly. He takes a step toward Soap, and tries to do his best to ignore the ache in his heart when Soap moves backward.

“I know.” Soap’s head dips in an aborted half-nod, refusing to meet Ghost’s gaze. “‘M sorry.”

Ghost takes another step. This time, Soap remains glued in place.

“Don’t apologize,” Ghost scolds. He softens, then, with a quiet sigh. “Can you ask anyone to…?”

Soap shakes his head. “Gaz ‘n’ Price are deployed,” he says. “Don’t trust anyone else.”

It’s a split-second decision that has Ghost blurting out the option he’d hope to never propose. “What about me?”

Soap’s eyes snap up to Ghost’s, startled. Still red, but somehow transformed into the eyes of prey. “You…?”

Ghost swallows thickly. “You’ll… you need it, so—“

“I cannae… cannae ask that of you,” Soap croaks. Though he doesn’t really need oxygen, Soap’s breathing is erratic, almost like some animalistic part of his brain had been unleashed, finally unlocked once the idea of being fed has become real again. The refusal is only to be polite, Ghost is sure of it.

His heartbeat is loud in his own ears. It’s probably louder in Soap’s.

Slowly, never once taking his eyes off Soap, Ghost pushes up a sleeve and offers out his forearm to the sergeant. His jaw ticks, watching Soap carefully.

Soap hesitates. For a long moment, Ghost begins to think Soap would rather hope he’d get blood some other way than taking from Ghost—but then, tentatively, he grabs ahold of Ghost’s wrist and steps closer, before bringing the lieutenant’s arm to his lips.

The initial prick of sharpened fangs has Ghost wincing, but after a moment of adjusting to the strange sensation of Soap’s feeding—it isn’t nearly as horrible as Ghost had imagined it to be. Especially not when Ghost is more focused on the healthy flush of colour that returns to Soap’s cheeks, and the warmth that finds his palms.

But with blood comes a renewed vigour and strength, and Ghost has to attempt to wrench Soap off of him when his knees start to feel weak. But he finds no success—instead suffering from a roaring panic that had always existed under the surface, fearful of something like this ever happening.

Then, mercifully, only a few seconds later Soap seems to sense the change. Seems to recognize he’s taken all he’d be able to without hurting Ghost. He pulls off Ghost’s wrist, licking the wound until the skin knits together without blemish. He swipes his tongue over his owns lips afterward, now stained a deep scarlet.

His pupils are blown wide. What’s visible of his irises are… their usual blue.

Unlike every other time Soap comes off feeding.

Ghost hardly notices that he’s being moved to the common room’s ratty sofa after a moment, a strong, supporting arm snaked around his waist. Soap sits with him, thumb tracing gentle circles into Ghost’s side—a gesture far more intimate than Ghost wants to think about.

“I’m sorry,” Soap is whispering. “I’m sorry, I’m—“

“Why?” Ghost tilts his head, incidentally sending a new wave of dizziness through his system—but he pays it no mind. “Offered t’ help, didn’t I?”

Soap gapes, mouth bobbing open and shut as he tries and fails to find his words.

Ghost shrugs to himself more than anything, slumping further into Soap’s side. A weight suddenly tugs at his eyelids, and they fall sleepily closed. He feels fine, really. Lightheaded at most.

“Jus’ don’t let it happen again, Johnny,” he mumbles.

Ghost doesn’t think Soap notices his hold getting tighter. He’s not certain either of them really care.

“‘Course not, LT,” Soap says.

Ghost falls asleep to the comforting pressure of Soap surrounding him.

He’s not sure if he’ll feel any less afraid when he wakes up.

(part 2)

[shrenvents]

Haunting Fear of the Dead

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, implied (small) age gap, survivors guilt etc

Pairing: Rick Grimes x reader

Summary: Negan’s aftermath served as the last straw to instill in you, the belief that nothing lasts forever.

Word count: 1k

...

The conversation rings in the back of my mind, and your face dominates my thoughts. That despairing, lost expression still makes me wonder whether I crossed the line.

Life is moving too fast, and the overwhelming concept of inevitable death, and her vivid memory haunt me.

The idea, that you may see her in my eyes...

Things fall apart, and I'll never be her.

I knew Lori for no more than a week before she died. And now I've known you for several years, yet she hasn't left my side. Has she left yours?

Your wife and I couldn't be more different.

A troubled, younger girl, who can't help how unloveable she feels. How vulnerable I am. How susceptible I am to doubt. Versus the mother of your child. Your woman before the fall.

How can I compare? How can you love me? After this tragedy and loss, how can I return your love?

Maybe these are all the things I should’ve conveyed, but the moments gone, and I’ll never get you back Rick.

…

"If ya sigh one more time girl, I'll smack you," Daryl intimidates passively, and I snap my obscure stare at him below my post. Then, looking at the world outside these metal walls, one last time, I turn to the ladder. "Call Rosita, I'm tired."

"Nuh-uh, if I'm here all night, so are ya," He challenges, catching my gaze. He holds it before scoffing in defeat, obviously feeling guilty, after viewing my sorrowful appearance.

As I pass him, he grips my forearm. "I know things are bad right now, but yer a survivor," he murmurs, full of pity. "And if ya ain't gonna believe in yerself, believe in Rick." He trails off, and I nod to make him loosen his grip, so I may walk away.

Things just blew over with the Saviours, now that Negan is behind bars. But regardless, death plagues my conscience. How can I think my happiness is important, or everlasting when my survival is just dumb luck?

Ending things with Rick rang so much truth to that.

Now lonely and isolated, I only have myself to blame. Since confusion and indecision left my bed empty, my head is full of profuse distress.

To this day, after weeks, I'm still unsure of what I was trying to achieve -what I was running from, and why was it him?

No, I know...

I feel it again, her looming behind me. Lori. Whispering stories of their pleasant life together before Walkers existed.

Her ghost regularly tells me how life would be different if it wasn't the end times. She remarks how Rick wouldn't look my way if I wasn't his only option.

My rapid imagination slows to silence when I pass his house. I picture Carl on his porch bouncing Judith to sleep, and misery brutally latches onto me, forcing me to remember what is lost.

'You left him when he needed you the most...' Lori breathes.

Tears prick my eyes, and I bite my bottom lip to reduce its trembling. Then, a call of my name drags me out of the dark, and I seek out its source.

"Rick?" I reply, swallowing my cry and straightening my back. Blinking frantically, I assess him as he marches towards me, seeing concern playing across his features.

'Good things aren't meant to last...'

"How are you?" I croak.

"Fine," he stammers slightly, "you?"

"I'm well," I lie pathetically, and even though he clearly doesn't believe me, he accepts my response nonetheless.

"Shouldn't you be patrolling the wall?" He questions hesitantly.

"Yeah, but Rosita offered to take over, to let me rest you know?" I murmur with a shrug like I'm asking him to confirm my lies. He nods again, seeming just as awkward. "Need me to walk you back?" Rick proposes, motioning his pointer in the direction of my place. "No," I utter flatly, far too fast. He gulps, unable to hide his dejected manner.

A beat later I wordlessly amble away, but he hollers my name again, and I freeze, whirling around, brows furrowing. "Can I walk you back?" He urges this time, and his dilated pupils hold such fervour and desperation, that I give in. "Okay," muttering, I look to the ground as he jogs to my side.

Walking closely together, we're uncomfortably quiet. I peer at him and see his eyes squeezed shut as he inhales, expanding his chest to its limit.

"Rick?" I mumble. His eyelids pop open, and he swivels his head to mine, brows raised.

"Why are you," exhaling, "forcing yourself to-" I cut myself short, and he grasps my meaning. "I'm not forcing myself to do anything," Rick rasps. "If anything, I'm forcing you, to be with me," he drops my befuddled stare. "I'm sorry," he grunts.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," I splutter as a wave of grief, racks through me. "I'm the one with problems," my meek voice gets choppy.

The pace of his legs falter. "Problems," he echoes, puffing a soundless laugh in disbelief. "Problems I want to hear," he more or less pleads. I faintly shake my head.

When I stagger, Rick stops moving completely, and captures my hand, yanking me squarely to him. I take in how alarmed his features appear and again, wish I was alone so I could cry.

"C'mon beautiful, talk to me," he begs, cupping my hand in both his palms, and when he utters my name of endearment, I finally break.

Liquid flows down my cheeks, and Rick, with his thumbs, hopelessly tries to sweep them aside. But the more his rough pads graze my skin, and he pulls me closer, adorning me with such affection, the more tears stream.

He wraps his sturdy arms around my smaller frame, tugging me tightly to his chest, and I collapse into him. He holds me upright when my knees buckle, and simply lets me cry.

"I broke up with you, why on Earth are you consoling me?" I sob, words escaping my mouth in messy bundles.

Sighing, "Because I love you," Rick's voice grows rocky, "and I hate to break it to you," he chokes up, "that isn't gonna change, just 'cause ya don't feel the same."

His statement makes a louder cry erupt. But, I struggle to muster the courage to dispel, the third lie told tonight.

Of course I love him.

"I'm here, always," he soothes, nuzzling his nose into the crook of my neck, and I feel water drip onto my nape.

As my arms encase his shaking body, Lori materializes behind me.

Reminding me, for the hundredth time:

I don't deserve Rick Grimes, and I never will.

[lelengerine]

I'm down bad for mark+ celebrities au 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

thinking 'bout you

pairing | idol!mark x idol!reader

genre | celebrity co-hosts au (if that’s a thing), a lot of fluff and comforting, mark addressed reader as dude once

wc | 0.6k

notes | thank u sm for requesting on my drabble event hehe <33 i hope you enjoy reading this and hopefully its along the lines of what you wanted !! likes, rbs, and feedback are highly appreciated :D

this is part of my drabble req event here!

m.list

as one of the hosts for the year-end awards event, you are currently residing backstage in a location grander than any you have ever seen. and though the outfit assigned to you looks absolutely pristine, it does little in actually giving you comfort to last the entire night. 

in your hands are cue cards you’ve been practicing nonstop for the past few days, now feeling anxious as the time ticks closer to the actual event. this was a ceremony broadcasted nation-wide and you didn’t wish to be deadweight your co-host needed to pick up.

“y/n, you ready?” a voice abruptly brings you out of your thoughts, turning towards its direction to find mark calmly approaching you. he was your chosen co-host for the event with a few years more experience than you. this gave you all the more reason to hate the idea of messing up and becoming a fool in front of someone like him. “hey… are you good?”

“hm? yeah, i’m fine. just a little nervous, but i won’t let you down!” your determination is oddly enough endearing to him, a lopsided smile now grazing his lips. 

“i know you wont, y/n.” he answers back with a soft chuckle, the sound of it easing the tensions within you. “come on now, you were chosen as a host for a reason.” he adds, nudging your shoulder lightly.

“thank you for the flattery, but if i may ask, how do you look so relaxed all the time? i wish i were like you.” you admit with a sheepish expression, and he looks at you a little dumbfounded. 

“me?” he points at himself almost animatedly, eyes widening. “oh dude, if you knew what’s going on inside my head right now- i think you’d say otherwise.”

he puts it lightheartedly, but deep down, you understand he’s rather in the same predicament as you, trying to find a form of relief from the panic before the event actually began. and for some reason, that revelation calmed you down more than anything has — you weren’t alone in this. he’s your co-host after all.

“then that makes both of us.” you state with the hopes of providing him that same comfort, and he seems to acknowledge the meaning behind your words. “it does.”

“you know,” he starts, “i’ve heard that thinking about someone you like really helps the stage fright. i used to only think of my parents before going up on stage, but maybe i’ll change it up today and think of someone else.” 

you feel a prickle of heat up your cheeks, thoughts in your head running the idea that he could be talking about you, but your logical self told you that could only be utter nonsense. 

“you’ll change it up today…?” you repeat slowly, wanting clarification on his words. “does that mindset really work?”

“it does if you believe in it enough? does that sound silly?” he cranes his head a little to the side, shyly rubbing his nape.

you immediately shut down his worries, shaking your head. “not at all! i’ll try it if you say it works. i just don’t know if i have anyone in mind yet.” with that answer, he beams again, opening his mouth to reply but one of the staff members manages to speak before he gets to utter a single word.

“y/n, mark, it’s time to head up. please make sure you bring your cue cards.” they instruct, now waiting on you both to lead you up the stage.

“oh- well then, shall we?” he politely offers his arm out for you to hold, one you take graciously.

“we shall.” you answer with a grin, knowing you’d take mark’s advice to think of a person you like as a way to calm your nerves, and that person might just be him.

[poppy-metal]

Oof and Patrick finally confronts you one day. Demanding answers.

"Cmon, princess, we fucking live together. The least you can do is bitch me out to my face instead of with your eyes."

"You've always annoyed me, Patrick. You know that." Are you gaslighting him? Maybe. But you barely understand what you're feeling, what are you supposed to say?

"you want to know what I think?" And he doesn't wait for an answer. "I think you're angry at me because it's safe. Youre scared Tash will turn on you again if you ever express your anger at her. And Art has those puppy dog eyes that make him impossible to be mad at anyways."

"Oh yeah, and that night in the bar has nothing to do with it."

"There it is. You're pissed I was picked first." You want to slap him because it sounds so petty when he says it. "But do you really understand why? Because I do."

"Oh, you do?" You snap. "Please, enlighten me."

"Because I'm like a fucking lost dog and they know it. They could've said anything, done anything, and I still would've been there. And as much as you might think youre in the same boat, Tash has never seen you that way." A pregnant pause. "Tash never believed you would actually come back to her. Art always knew I'd come back."

toxic polycule has my heart im gonna bleat like a lamb

hating patrick because his leaving hurt the worst - you could reason why tashi and art did. it was in arts nature to run and repress and tashi had blocked everything out after her injury. it didn't make it okay but it made sense in your head. but patrick - you'd shared your pain with him. you'd shared your body. you thought you might be something someday maybe. later down the line because you were both so reckless and self destructive.

"its whatever, patrick. i get it - we were a distraction for eachother. and now that we're dating them there's really no need for us to interact. i don't give a shit who picked who first -"

"bullshit. it's always fucking stung that they chose eachother over you. and it fucking hurt when you thought they chose me over you too."

you dont want to talk about it. last choice. its what you were, no matter how you spun it. in this love square of four you were at the bottom. they'd be fine without you. you'd agreed to start dating art and tashi tentatively - but you still held yourself at a distance from all of them. you refused to move in. refused to let any of them call you their girlfriend. you had your heart to protect. a relationship of four? it wouldn't last. and you'd be the first on the chopping block.

"sure, patrick." you say. "okay."

its tiring to argue.

he searches your face. his eyes are annoyingly intense, and it feels like he's peeling back your head to look into your brain. unspooling your thoughts.

"i missed you." patrick has the ability to soften his voice in such a way that it makes your heart jerk in your chest. your bite the inside of your cheek until you taste blood. "i thought about you. i think about you. it fucking sucks you won't talk to me."

you close your eyes. you remember a night years ago when his lips had pressed against the back of your neck. holding you after sex - and it was the first time you'd slept together without talking about art or tashi at all. and it felt good. you thought you might be enough for someone, finally. that maybe he saw you and wanted you for you, and not because of the pain you shared.

stupid. he just wants you now because you're close and its convenient. it's more convenient if you're all sleeping together and there's no tension and you're all happy and its all sunshine and rainbows and no one is thinking about when this all will end.

well, you had to be that person. because you refused to be blindsided.

"it was just sex, patrick. we were scratching and itch. you dont need me to scratch it anymore, and i dont need you either. we can be civil, but its not deeper than that between us."

you can see the flash of anger in his eyes at being dismissed. you dont think to process it as pain. you doubt you have the power to hurt patrick zweig at all.

[mintmatcha]

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! Mind the tags!!

TW: angst, mentions of child loss, cisfem reader with she/her pronouns

Kirishima’s voice echoes down the hall, despite how he tries to keep it quiet. The sound is almost covered by the distant mumblings of the radio, but his timbre, throaty and familiar, carries, creeping down the hall to where it isn’t supposed to be. With your eyes closed, you can picture him, with his outside coat still pulled over his shoulders and mismatched shoes crammed into his feet.

“Hey, congrats, man,” he says. The phone had rung a couple minutes ago and without a doubt, you know who’s on the other line and what they’re talking about. Only Bakugo would call this early in the morning, only one topic needs to be whispered,  “I’m really happy for you. Tell your wife I said congrats too.”

He shifts, socked feet sliding against the carpet. The hot compress pressed into your stomach lost its heat hours ago, but still, you clutch at it, pulling at it through the covers. No matter how you try to settle in, your bed offers no comfort, so you lay there and don’t even try to sleep, listening to a conversation that you know will make you hurt.

“Uh, yeah- maybe. Soonish. I, uh- yeah. I know, we're next,” Kirishima whispers. A singer once told you that whispering is harder on your vocal cords than talking and you can hear it now, tearing up his voice the lower he tries to go, scratching it unbearably raw. “Listen, I gotta go. We were at the hospital last night, so--- Yeah, we’re fine. She’s fine. I’ll explain another day, okay?”

He exhales. It’s shaky.  “I’ll explain later. Bye.”

Kirishima sighs with the weight of the world and you feel it too, crushing your rib cage. Every breath aches like your body doesn’t want to take it.

Your husband stands in the hall for a long time, still and sighing, pulling each breath deep before letting it out again through his teeth. Eventually, he slinks into the room, tiptoeing over to his side of the bed. He knows you aren’t asleep-

How could you fall asleep after that?

“Hey,” he tucks his legs under him as he settles into bed and you roll over to face him. Bags have settled under his eyes, dark and creased from tears he hasn’t yet shed. For now, in front of you, he stays strong, unbreakable even without the quirk.

"Are... are you still cramping?" he stumbles over himself, "I can heat that thing up again.”

There's a familiar knot in your lower stomach that comes and goes, but shake your head anyway. If it hurts, it feels real.

"Just let me know," he rubs his knuckles down your arm, "Anything for you."

You need him to say it. The knowledge you’re not supposed to have itches.

But Kirishima is too kind. He kisses your forehead with a delicacy that makes your eyes water.

"I love you," he says.

“They’re having another kid, aren’t they?”

Kirishima recoils at that and the horrified, ruined expression on his face tells you what you need to know.

 “Honey,” he whispers. His body crumples into yours, practically laying on top of you, and his weight pressed the heat pack even harder into your already aching core. Hid head nuzzled deep into your cheek, muffling the way his breath hiccups with an inhaled sob as he gathers himself. “Oh, sweetie.”

“It’s fine,” you reply.

He's not fine, lamenting in a tone that almost makes you mad. It aches so horribly that you've gone numb to it all, why can't he be the same?

"I didn’t want you to hear that.”  

“It’s fine.”

He squeezes you like he needs you closer than actually possible, adjusting his grip every couple of seconds when the proximity doesn't satiate him. “I didn’t want you to know. Not yet. Not so soon."

“There's no reason to get upset about it,” The edge of the hospital bracelet eats into your wrist. “It’s not their fault our babies can't stay alive."

When he reels back to stare at you, you can't meet his gaze. You know what you fid. The wound between you is still too fresh to prod, but you hit it anyway.

"Don't say that."

It was only a couple hours ago when the doctor patted your knee like he cared and said he was very, very sorry, but there just isn't a heartbeat anymore. These things happen, he said, the first fifteen weeks can be fickle, try not to blame yourself, the bleeding won't last long.

Kirishima just nodded the whole time, head bobbing up and down with a thinly veiled, wide eyed horror.

You did nothing. You've heard it before. You both have.

"Why would I be upset that Bakugo's having his third kid?" You're picking at the edges of Kirishima's sleeve, freeing frayed edges, looking anywhere but at him and those sad, sad eyes, "I've been pregnant three times too. It's no big deal."

"Please stop," he says, much louder now.

“It's not their fault I'm broken."

“Please stop.”  Kirishima's hand hooks behind your neck as he pleads, thumb running out your cheek, “I- you're being cruel."

"My baby died," you say simply, "I'm allowed to be."

Kirishima's lower lip wobbles and for a moment you swear he fractures, about to slip completely apart in your hands. Against the bloodshot white of his eyes, the iris seems faded and tired. The cut through his monolid has long silvered, much thinner than it once was, but still there, a reminder that he was young once.

Your own eyes burn with tears once again.

"Not to yourself. And not to me. You don't get to be mean with me." His thumb brushes over your cheek again, softer this time. Despite his quirk, his hands are smooth and uncalloused, their touch almost tickling. "I lost him too."

On your first date, Kirishima offhandledly mentioned he wanted his children to have quirks just like him. Back then, it was nothing more than a silly whimsy, but that thought creeped its way into your daydreams, then into your hopes, until it cemented itself there, a permanent fixture of your idealized life.

It takes effort to step out of your own grief. Kirishima didn't physically lose the pregnancy like you did, but he is still mourning all the same, letting go of a dream he's clutched for longer than you probably know.

"I'm sorry." You finally hug him back, squeezing with all the might your exhausted body can muster.

"I know." His shoulders hitch and quiver, but he doesn't cry. Not yet. The quiet of your empty apartment eats at you both, the only sound being that of your uneven breathing, out of sync with each other. Eventually you both relax into each other, taking solace in the simple comfort of proximity.

"Bakugo's gonna ask," Kirishima whispers suddenly, "And I don't know how to tell him. I can't just-"

He sniffles. "I'm not you. I can't just say it."

You run your knuckles up and down his knotted back, but stay silent. You understand, of course, the suffocating, unbearable misery that sits in the room is almost too much to address.

But how are you supposed to live with something your husband can't even talk about in public?

[earlofbats]

One Last Dance

Hey! Sorry @zipper-ghost it's not very long! My gift for the @palestaticexchange I wrote you a little vignette about Kim and Harry returning to the church a few years later:

“You, do you really think it'll be there?” Kim looks up to the church.

It's cold again, many years cold.

You tighten the grip on the cane and shift it under the weight of your palm.

It's fine wood body holds your weight and moors you to the earth, keeps you on the ground.

Kim's hand comes to hold your shoulder, you feel yourself sinking into the mud.

Soon you'll be buried there.

“It's still there…” you offer, distracted as you take in your surroundings.

It isn't, not really.

The church has a thin blanket of snow snuggled up against the doors.

The ice on the steps cracks and shatters like glass under your weight.

Kim hesitates at the stoop watches with nervous eyes as you rest your hand against the handle.

He’s uneasy, you’re acting strangely and despite his trust in you he is unsure.

“There's no music.” he states firmly.

“…oh? But can't you hear it?” You give Kim a smile that crinkles at your eyes as you push the doors open.

They drag along the rough wood, bending and splintering, metal rust flaking off the hinges.

The space is set with a stillness, its dim and silent air floats dust particles into the light.

No one has been here in years.

“They boarded up the hole..” Kim follows loyally behind, looking down at the base of the portrait where wood has been paneled along the base of the giant glass pane.

You look up.

Gone is her ethereal beauty, her soft and gentle features now reclaimed.

sprayed across her face a new visage, cartoonish and dripping down red against her glowing lungs.

A dead man smiling.

The defeat of history… The Hard Core.

Your grin widens yellowed teeth shining gray in the light.

You turn to Kim and point.

But he isn't looking in your direction, no he's looking towards the center of the room.

It's bigger, the size of a newborn, an infant it grows everyday bit by bit.

A child of a real revolution, a true undoing.

You turn back, limping over toward where Kim stares off into the rafters.

“You would have said no.” You state your hand coming to brush against the back of Kim's.

He looks down at it with a fond and tired expression, a long weathered kind of look.

“Probably…” Kim turns his palm up and wrangles your fingers into his.

You give it a light squeeze and nestle in close to him.

Your eyes flutter close, your breath seeps out into vapor.

Thoughts orbit around your head in their fine line across your halo.

Little drops of ideation swirling around the pull of your mind's gravitation.

Tender thoughts.

Thoughts you think about when you need the softness against the folds of your brain.

Kim's mustache against your cheek, his body against the curve of your spine, his breath against the back of your nape.

“Please….” Kim breathes against the inside of your collar “can we-” he stops himself with a hitch of breath.

You open your eyes wide, the reflection of them glimmering in the shine of Kim's spectacles.

“Kim,-” you turn to face him grabbing his other hand in yours, “I had to know-” you tighten your grip “I just wanted to see how much time we have.”

“Wh-” Kim stops himself. He wants to ask questions, but knows he doesn't want the answers.

“It's okay,” you assure him.

“We didn't come for the club…did we?”

You don't let your smile falter “we can still dance.”

“Harry…” Kim scolds.

“No, the club is not here. It's in Jamrock…boogie Street maybe. It's under the earth in the concrete…” you trail off,

The long steel rafters intertwined like spiderwebs crawling outward along the ceiling and down to the foundations, the thumping vibration against the catacombs of intersecting housings, the music at the end of the world brought to you by the youth of the final generation.

A sound you had seen the birth of.

The hole in the world lingers in its stratus.

The revolution is sound and radio waves.

You shuffle your feet, running your hands to find their homes at the dip of Kims pelvis, thumb resting over that narrow jut of bone.

You hum a tune and sway from one foot to the other.

Kim tries to hold back a smile he rests his head against the wide expanse of your shoulder and allows himself the respite.

The ocean breeze seeps through the cracks, glides along the wood and rotting varnish, brushes up against your cervical nerves, prickling hairs on the back of your neck.

There in the Jamrock Quarter, she stands proudly, the new church, the new faith, three friends sit at the helm of a technological wonder, at the new vibrations.

The Paliseum, a sanctuary of a new religion.

Kim stops your movement and pulls you away from him.

Ever so softly he kisses you.

His lips feel like hope and the kiss tastes of a future worth existing and you think to yourself,

“Disco is dead, long live disco.”