#with the time change her usual walk time is now fully night so i felt baddd she needs some sunlight too

[snoopyliker]

walked luna, might i add during daylight, im a real trooper

[solbaby7]

En Cognito

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: swearing, misogyny, best friends that wanna fuck, sexual tension, possible violence, jealous!az, slowly shifting into slight darker content 👀 hope no one notices

summary: Going undercover alters your appearance more than your friends ever anticipated—now Azriel can’t tear his eyes away.

—

“Stop touching and just relax.”

“I can’t,” You squirm under Mor’s touch. Two hours spent around the city spending obscene amounts of money on a dress and heels that you were only going to wear once. Nimble fingers part through your hair, undoing paper curls and oiled fingers run through the ends of silky strands. Everything is too tight—too exposed. “I am deeply uncomfortable.” Your arms cross behind your back, fingers awkwardly intertwining to create some sort of barrier between your ass and the possibility of peering eyes.

The High Lords cousin doesn’t take it personally, quickly finishing final touches on your makeup and the person you see in the mirror is so far off from what you were used to that it makes your breath catch. “It’s perfect. You’re going to be perfect—they won’t be able to keep their eyes off of you.”

Your hand shakes at the thought, painted fingers curling around the glass of champagne and knocking the whole thing back in one go.

“You’re going to ruin your lipstick.”

“If I don’t have at least two more of those, I’m going to ruin this whole night.” It felt weird having your hair down like this and your fingers twitch to tuck it back into your usual bun but Mor keeps throwing looks over her shoulder while she refills both glasses. Just daring you to fuck up her work.

After the second glass your brain finally stops hyper-fixating on the fact that you can actually feel the bare skin of your thighs touching with each step, an annoying change from the leathers that usually prevented things like this. “It’s just a few dances. Bat your lashes and smile pretty and the intel will come to you, I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t think one dress will get me all of that.”

“It’s not about the dress.” She’s rubbing oil into your skin that makes it shine when the light touches, the sweet smell lingering long after you’ve left the room and the whole walk downstairs is filled with gentle reminders on everything she’d been teaching you all week. “It’s you in it. Seriously, where have you been hiding all of this ass?” You swat her hands away, grateful that the others had left far earlier. You could just hear Az and Cass now, eyes rolling at the very thought of their relentless teasing—this would be the topic of many jokes for weeks to come.

Slight sway of your hips, soften the length of your spine, shoulders back and head high. Confident steps even though the heels were fucking killer; five inches of added height and you’d still feel small in a room crawling with fully grown men. The champagne glass is finished and refilled once more before you’re tugged away to the balcony and past the wards.

Usually, winnowing was calming but for some reason, this time it had the hairs on the back of your neck prickling at attention from all the eyes that slid in your direction. “That was subtle.”

“We’re late,” Mor mutters through her teeth, flashing a less than sweet smile to the males undressing her with their eyes. Typical for Hewn City but still fucking disgusting. “I figured a flashy entrance would distract from that. Now, be nice.”

Easier said than done with anxiety beginning to ebb forth, fingers flexing and nails running over the details of your dress. The words from earlier repeat in your mind and instantly your spine straightens, chin raising and the added swish to your hips is enough to attract the attention of any male within a five mile radius.

It’s customary to greet the High Lord and Lady, your heels clicking and face aloof when swiftly curtsying into a respectful bow. “Rise,” Feyre commands, voice strong and filled with unquestionable power but you could see that look in her eye—familial fondness creeping at the edges of blue irises and you’re quick to appear anxious. Less comfortable when surrounded by people you’d known longer than you could put into words. “Join the others, there’s plenty of food and drink for everyone.”

Better judgement screams in your mind not to look just a little to the right; your peripheral catching onto the faint glow of cobalt blue but your eyes slide over without permission.

Azriel looks godly standing guard near his High Lord and Lady. He’s handsomely dressed in one of his fancier pairs of fighting leathers, lethally strapped to the nines with daggers at his thighs, switchblades tucked in pockets or strapped to his ankles and swords that cross at his back, right between his wings.

Like an angel of death; just as tempting as he was deadly.

You look away before he can catch you admiring the tailored cut of sturdy, dark tactical gear stretching across his muscles. Too quickly for you to notice the way he double takes, eyes widening a fraction and stance stiffening ever so slightly when he recognizes the slope of your nose and shape of your mouth glistening in gloss. He nearly chokes on his breath at the accentuation of your figure, curves on full display in a complete juxtaposition to your usual attire and his stare follows as you disappear into the crowd of bodies.

He can’t leave his spot but it doesn’t stop him from sending out his own personal surveillance to keep tabs on the way you shift about the room.

Everywhere you move, eyes follow.

Males halt their conversation, sipping on whiskey so expensive that it probably equates to a months worth of rent but judging by their tailored suits and gold cuff-links—money was the least of their problems.

“A drink, miss?”

Relief works its way into your form when you accept, thanking the waitstaff politely while acting your ass off with the fluttery lashes and doe eyes. It paints a perfect little picture—entrapping susceptible males with overly inflated egos and misogynistic thought processes. You’re almost a little too deep in the facade, aimlessly wandering through the sea of bodies with ears specially attuned to every conversation; sifting through the meaninglessness in order to catch little pieces of a bigger picture that had yet to be deciphered.

“And who might you be?”

“Nobody.” The response is instinctive, a second nature that’s easily smoothed over with a demure smile.

Even you could admit the male was handsome, all solid muscle and alluringly ragged edges. His suit is immaculate, fitting the strong line of his shoulders to perfection as the halfway unbuttoned tunic beneath broadcasts the tawny tones of his chest loitered with inky tattoos. Dark hair frames his face, a silver scar cutting through the thick of one brow and yet its completely overshadowed when in the midst of such beauty. “You certainly don’t look like ‘nobody’ to me.”

Warmth spreads at the nape of your neck, your body affected by the soulful bass of his voice and for a fleeting moment you have to remind yourself of the task at hand.

The male doesn’t give time for you to come up with another one of your carefully curated lies. A hand is extended your way, the faelight above catching on the masculine rings adorning his pinky and pointer fingers when your hand is taken in his own.

It’s almost embarrassing—the spectacle he makes in spinning you slow, taking in every detail with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Thank the Mother for Mor and her attention to detail, picking out the perfect dress and glimmering diamonds that distracted from the true soldier that burned in your soul, a characteristic that had been exercised for decades enduring Cassian and Azriel’s relentless training regiment.

“Whoever you’ve come with will never recover from the loss he’s about to take,” The males eyes are ravenous, that previously bored darkness finally flickering with life beneath the surface.

The surprised laugh you let out is genuine, a shocked bark of a thing that’s anything but ladylike but he doesn’t seem to mind. “You have a very high sense of self in assuming I’d go anywhere with you considering I don’t have the slightest clue on who you are.”

Another lie added to the steadily growing web. You’d been briefed on every single person in this room, memorized their faces and obsessively studying their lives and known connections until the only thing left was to figure out who possessed the most valuable information. “Who better to trust than Stewards right hand?” Feminine wonder masks the satisfaction of such an easily attained lead and suspicion begins to grow in your gut. Maybe it’s not as well concealed as you’d assumed because the cockiness is dialed down multiple levels and the smile he wears is far more flattering than that entitled smirk. “Call me Atlas.”

Music filters throughout the space and steadily the sea of bodies becomes more uniform, paired up couples shifting about the room with a hardened grace that allowed their movements to appear elegant, even if their faces were stripped of any semblance of emotion. “Atlas,” The name is foreign on your tongue but not entirely unpleasant. “Have any clue where they keep their stash?”

A cheshire grin accompanies the muscular bicep he holds out in offering. “Allow me to lead the way.”

Everything goes as planned, a knowing nod to Mor, a giddy smile when the Stewards second hand tugs you down a hallway, bypassing stationed guards and passing over a small pouch of silver coins to the scrawny soldier standing in front of a thick set of double doors. “Where are we going?”

“You wanted the good stuff. Kier keeps them in his office.” High heels click against the polished floors, taking in the layered colors of obsidian, onyx and oblivion. It’s typical for a male, simple, with just enough overindulgence to make your eyes roll.

“Are we supposed to be in here?”

Atlas moves across the space with ease, unlatching the lock on the liquor cabinet and collecting two glasses and a thick crystal decanter filled halfway with a deep amber liquid. “Are you going to tell on me?”

Every movement you make hold more grace than you’ve mustered up in a century. Femininity oozes from every pore and it’s intoxicating—this males reaction to the slightest graze of your nails against his fingers. It plants a terrifying seed, one eager to learn exactly how far you could take it. How many other people would react the same way?

Your mind takes a turn, sliding a key into a door you’d long since boarded up.

And you can’t help but wonder if the simple seduction would work on Azriel too.

“I can be convinced to keep a secret,” Magic must be used to keep the liquor chilled because the crystal is cold to the touch. “If you show me the balcony too.”

Atlas nods slowly, taking your words entirely different than intended but you don’t bother correcting it. Not when he strides over to the doors with such ease, pulling out a personal set of keys and unlocking them as if he’d done so a million times before.

You supposed Hewn was a sight to behold from this angle, high heels click against the concrete, bracelets clinging against the iron railings as you peer over. In its own, hauntingly beautiful way; a darker part of you could find the appeal if you overlooked the horrors that took place there.

“Now, I’ve snuck you out here, breaking all kinds of rules and jeopardizing my job for you.” If it’s the truth, Atlas has a hell of a way of making it seem nonchalant—every word laced in an amusement you can’t quite place but it’d be lying to say you didn’t find it slightly charming. “Will you finally tell me your name?”

There’s a mischievous sparkle in your eye, a taunting elongation of one leg, the shiny curve of your high heel dragging gently against his ankle. You almost answer when your eyes catch on the shadows in the corner, their color just a little too dark, their ebb just a little too sentient. Of course, Azriel would follow you out there when he believed you were taking too long, playing the perfect position of Night Court security when urging guests away from restricted areas but jealously slips its way into his tone when he finds you and Atlas on the balcony standing a little too close to be considered friendly. “You aren’t supposed to be out here.”

The male with you doesn’t seem the slightest bit deterred, cockily tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear while the other hand fishes out a small pouch full of gold coins from his suit pocket and rudely stuffs it into Azriel’s chest without even looking. “How about you go back inside and give us a few uninterrupted moments to get to know each other?”

Azriel’s brow raises, wings bristling when tracking the two fingers Atlas has grazing down your cheekbone and his tone is eerily even when responding. “Did you come alone tonight?”

“Yes,” Atlas retorts none the wiser, a smirk curving at the corners of his mouth. “Though, I have no intentions on leaving how I came.”

“Is that so?” It happens so quickly. Azriel snatching the male away from you, his fist darting out and connecting with Atlas’ jaw with such precision that the impact sends the Steward’s second in command unconscious on the cobblestone. “Mission’s over,” Azriel all but growls, his grip possessive when pulling you in. “We’re leaving.”

“Azriel,” Your eyes widen, glass slipping from your grasp as your brain moves like molasses when trying to comprehend what you’d witnessed. It doesn't bother Az though, his hand a firm weight at the dip of your back, pinky finger just grazing the curve of your ass with every step. “I wasn’t even close to being finished—he was about to give me everything.”

“Oh, I’m more than aware of what he was about to give you.”

He looks like he’s readying himself to winnow the two of you out of there, thick clouds of shadows materializing around his threatening frame but something forces him to decide against it. His jaw clenches, stance rigid and voice clipped when telling you to 'come this way', taking a sharp left turn before shoving your body inside. “Azriel, what the hell?”

“Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing.” The door slams behind him, lock twisting with a resounding click but none of that distracts from the downright murder-strut Azriel adopts when stalking towards you. Your heart hammers against your chest, heels scraping against the polished floors in your attempts to create space but the male before you eats it all up. “Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me?”

The laugh that pushes free is breathless; taken aback. “What?"

A war wages in Azriel's mind as he strains to contain the small semblance of control he's ever been able to gather in your presence. You make him crazy; shove him out of his comfort zone and force him to take risks that his skillful training strictly rejects. You're an enigma, a flame that burns but also provides warmth to those who handle you with care. “I thought you in your leathers was sin.”

You swallow thickly as your body responds to the drop in his voice; the gravel that positively rattles his tone and morphs that strong soldier boy into a predator of a man with ravenous wants and needs. Rapturous desires that plagues his thoughts, tainting his actions and lingering in the void of his shadows with intent to kill.

Shock blends into need as Azriel backs you against the desk, the rigid line of his cock straining against the stitching of his leathers. It digs against your belly; teasing, taunting you with the possibilities. “But then you come waltzing in wearing this dress—cauldron boil me—are you even wearing any underwear?”

"I couldn't," A blush burns at your cheeks, every inch of you sparking to life under his stare. "Mor said panty lines are tacky."

"Then it'd be best you refrain from telling her what happens in here because I'm about to make you sound fucking garish." Hips buck involuntarily, a helpless rut whittling away at whatever self-control Azriel has left. It’s clearly not much because soon his lips are too preoccupied with learning yours and strong hands are busy familiarizing themselves with the curves you usually kept so carefully concealed. Eager fingers run over the tight fabric around your waist, gliding over the length of your stomach and cupping the weight of your breasts, thumbs grazing over peaked nipples. Mapping the canvas of your body like a man starved.

Denying his touch is out of the question; at least that’s what your body decides as it leans into the heavy drag of his weight. For once, you lean into the girlish nature of allowing the male to lead—to comply as Azriel guides your face to his own. Indulging in feverish kisses because he started it and it was only fair for you to finish it.

The lines of friendship blur with his tongue in your mouth and you’re too drunk on the scent of his cologne to question what any of this could mean afterwards. What chaos could ensue from helping him hike the hem of your dress up, up, up with a needy groan. “Can’t believe you hid all of this from me,” Azriel all but whines, golden irises gobbling up the fullness of your thighs. Pupils dilate at your lack of undergarments; the thin leather thigh holsters strapped tight against the muscle of your legs and inky shadows swipe at the weapon secured there—stealing it as a prize.

“Can you blame me?” The words come out breathy, palms dragging along rigid muscle hidden beneath his clothes, nails seconds away from slicing through the offending fabric for more of his warmth, for more of him in general because this male was a thing of dreams. Of carefully curated fantasies that females with far more time on their hands wrote about in their journals. “How would I get any work done with everyone staring at my ass?”

His touch is bold, two fingers sliding between your thighs to slide along the slick that collects between lower lips. "That won't be an issue for you anymore." A gasp forces your lips to part when he circles around your clit, feeling the area around it without actually giving what you want. Azriel likes it more that way; enjoys the ways your legs tremble and chest heaves. "You'll find that people don't stare much at the things that belong to me."

"I'm not yours," You struggle to verbalize the thought fully when he finally applies the right amount of pressure to your neglected bundle of nerves. Quick little circles under the calloused drag of two fingers works a strangled moan free. "I don't belong to anyone," You try to speak it aloud so the point comes across but all that's leaving your lips is pathetic pants of yesyesyes and pretty pleas for moremoremore.

He’s cruel in his torture, pulling his hands away seconds before release can wash over you and a cocky smirk etches in the corner of his mouth. It’s knowing; cognizant of the fact that your orgasm lies in the palm of his hands, rests under the willful press of his fingertips.

“Please?” You whisper, voice cracked; broken, ruined from nothing but his hands alone and you still hadn’t cum yet. Every nerve burns, toes curling, stomach clenching and pussy pulsing around nothing as your hips careen forward—searching for the sweet friction that Azriel just knows how to provide.

You thank the Mother for his lack of revolve, for it had to be her mercy that allows his stubborn defenses to crumble so quickly. To give in and offer everything you’d been begging for . He’s not kind about it; doesn’t coax the orgasm forward but yanks at it like a dog on a leash. It’s claiming the way he watches you through your high, drinking up your sounds and committing the slick sight of you to memory.

He doesn’t even give you enough time to catch your breath before he’s tugging his leathers down his hips, thick fabric bunching at his thighs. “Save your pretty pleas for soft pricks like Aaron.”

“Atlas.”

Azriel’s brow raises, a subtle twitch of muscle that shouldn’t be as threatening as it is. Or at least it wouldn’t be if it wasn’t followed by the ominous drag of his cock through your folds, the heavy weight of him coating itself in your slick.

You know he wants to say something. It’s hanging off the tip of his tongue; some venomous comment fueled by raw, unbridled jealousy. Some sick part of you wants him to say it—maybe then he’ll admit to his feelings; confessing to the tension that permeates when the two of you enter a room or share a joke or brush arms or get a little too heated during training.

“I believe your role tonight is soft and demure,” His voice is deceptively even considering the rough jolt of his hips that bullies the blunt head of his cock deep inside of you. “So don’t use that mouth of yours unless it’s to tell me how good I fucking feel.”

Az holds true to his word because every time your lips part to make some stupid comment for him to slow down or loosen his grip on your hips because you’re sure bruises are forming—Azriel just fucks you harder. Presses the palm of his hand against your mouth to muffle the moans, to seize the symphony of sighs that gasp free when he treats sensitive spots with such aggression.

He can feel your legs shaking, tuts his tongue in hushed amusement when he catches you trying to inch away; searching for a spare second to catch your breath. “Where d’you think you’re going?”

No mercy is shown for your choked breaths when Azriel’s focused on the ripple of your ass with each thrust. “It’s so fucking deep,” The words come out garbled against his palm and it’s only then that he pulls it away, fingers ghosting over the swollen plush of your lips in silent appreciation.

“Filthy pussy’s just sucking me right in,” Your cheeks burn, lids fluttering closed as you try not to acknowledge the fact that his voice and those syllables strung together is just enough to have you clenching around him; slick gushing down the length of him and dripping from the heavy weight of his balls.

A sharp smack of his hand against the fat of your ass; the perfect pinch of pain to accompany the mind-numbing pleasure that wracks through every nerve. “Azriel!”

“Now you remember my name?” His tone is pure venom, every rational part of his brain clouded with envy, leaking with a bitterness that scrunches up the perfect lines of his face. “Can’t believe you were about to give this up to that fucking ingrate.” Cool air breezes against your sex as your ass is lewdly pried open enough for Azriel to stare at the sopping wet mess you make. “Not after I’ve been waiting so godsdammed long for this—for you.” A creamy ring of your cum catches at the base of his cock; cunt clenching over and over and over as he works you through orgasm after orgasm.

Mumbled praises and keening moans are your only reply, knees bending for better leverage as you lean back into the pace he sets. Screw the mission—fuck the objective. Damn anything that wasn’t Azriel and his cock and those perfect hands that claims sweat-slicked skin. You don’t even fight it, succumbing to the pleasure and the male administering it. “Right there!” You barely recognize the sound of your own voice, ears focused on Azriel’s grunts and whispered praises. “So good. So good—fuck!”

“This is mine?” It’s not really a question. That much you know when you feel the pressure of his thumb rubbing circles along your clit. “Say it so I can hear you.”

“Yes!” Eyes roll. Words slur. Fists clutch at polished wood; manicured nails leaving indents in mahogany. “Belongs to you.”

Azriel’s too good—too precise; too determined. Forces him to rut deep and carve out a place inside of you with his name branded on it. Thick ropes of his seed paints quivering walls; claiming with a kind of possessiveness that has your toes permanently curled in your heels.

There’s barely enough time to catch a proper breath or situate your dress when thick wad of papers are smacked before you like a godsdammed gift, all neatly stacked and basically tied with a fucking shadowy bow. All the intel you’d bitched at Az for compromising—written right there in plain sight. “Those are the—you…thank you.”

“Don’t get all sweet for me now,” Azriel muses darkly, affectionately patting at your cheek as if you were some drowsy pup, his head nodding in gesture to the neat stack of stolen papers on the table while swiftly tucking himself away and redoing the ties on his breeches. “I’m only covering for your pretty ass so I can ruin it later.”

[howaboutalittleeffort]

Gazing

“Alizabeth, please don’t do this.” Jamie’s wife had promised that he would be awarded with a long-overdue treat this weekend. His mind, of course, went immediately to the physical; it had been months… But now, as he lay on his back, legs spread, in a soaked Little King, looking up not only at his wife but also at his lifelong friend Becca, the long overdue treat did not appear to be that at all.

“I don’t usually make him stay in his night diapers this long in the morning; I know how yucky they can feel, but I was sure you would want to see how little Jamie starts his day.” Becca didn’t say anything but gave a slight nod, her eyes never leaving the sight of Jamie, who looked as though he would melt to nothing from something so secret being brought out into the open.

“Now, before I even start the change, I mark his potty chart.” Alizabeth walks to the far wall of the makeshift nursery and grabs the chart that showed his steady transformation into a diaper-dependent baby. “Hmm, let’s see, how did Jamie’s diapee fare?” As if it wasn’t obvious to anyone in the room that the diaper had been thoroughly soaked, but still she went through the usual poking and prodding, declaring, “... looks like someone has earned another raindrop sticker.” Becca’s eye finally looked from Jamie, registering the chart, noticing only the occasional sun sticker appearing amongst the sea of raindrops, before her gaze drifted back to her friend.

“Though, there does appear to be a little room left in it. Jamie, do you think you could fill this diaper up for Mommy? Alizabeth could not mean that she wanted him to mess himself; he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, but before he could raise any protest, she had pushed his legs together, working his knees to and from his chest, occasionally massaging his abdomen. He knew from prior experience that a messy diaper was all but guaranteed; the best he could hope for was Alizabeth allowing him the dignity of at least escaping Becca’s stare.

“Lizzy… please… please let me do this in priva.. ” The final word, cut off by the unmistakable sound of a messy release, followed by only the slightest whimper of defeat from Jamie, what else could he say or do anyway? He felt small and wanted, needed, a change. “Lizzy. I... I think I’m done.” He kept his view focused only on Alizabeth, looking at what he was sure was a look of disgust from Becca that would only lead to nothing but tears from himself.

“Done? What do you mean? There is still a little room left in there, and Mommy did promise you a treat." The horror that she fully intended for him to use his diaper fully was too much; his hands rushed to hide his face.

“Becca, did you know that Jamie loves making little stickies in his diaper? It has to be his favorite diaper time activity.” Maybe it was a burst of adrenaline that gave him the bravery that helped him not only peek through his fingers but even offer resistance. “I don’t like it! Mommy makes me do it!”

“Hush, there is no reason to fib just because you have a friend over. I used to catch him all the time mounting his stuffies, pretending he was some kind of big boy, and now he isn’t allowed to be unsupervised with any of them. Stuffie time was too much responsibility for little Jamie; now he only gets diaper rubs." Alizabeth began to gently push down on the front of his diaper, and even though he would not have freely told the two women, his excitement was immediately apparent to Mommy's touch.

“Well, I would swear I feel an excited thingy; that's weird for someone who was just yelling they don’t like making stickies.” As she began to gently rub his diaper, the world around him began to lose importance, and with that he, almost subconsciously, began to push into her hand, wanting just a little more pressure. He was so close.

“That’s right, Jamie, show Mommy and Becca what a big baby you are.” Hearing Becca’s name, Jamie was brought back to reality, halting his grinding of Mommy’s hand. The burning of Becca’s glare once again felt, but still he was unable to look at her; he squeezed his eyes shut. “Mommy, make Becca leave, please!” The pressure from Mommy’s hand relented, and though he did not open his eyes, he could feel the two of them staring, taking his current state in fully. Then unannounced, the pressure and rubbing returned with vigor. His resistance and dignity spent, he pushed hard into the hand, his back arching and legs going stiff, and with the moment of explosion within mere seconds of happening, he allowed himself the slightest of peeks of his gorgeous Mommy. Greeted by the sight of Becca having switched with Mommy, her hand delivering the treat. “Make stickies for Auntie Becca.”  

[reidsbabyhoney]

second chances | s.r.

the one where Spence regrets everything that’s happened in the past six months.

pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader category: angst, fluff cw: none wc: 3.3k a/n: this took forever to write because every time i tried writing it i absolutely hated how it came out. i’m hoping i gave them the ending they deserved and that you all love it! also please let me know if there's any warnings I should add.

pt.1 masterlist spencer reid masterlist

The entire car ride home was a blur, and you mean that literally. The tears that coated your eyes never seemed to stop even after you arrived back home. The dull hum of the engine couldn't seem to drown out the noise-deafening pounding in your chest.

You couldn't help but replay every moment from tonight on a loop, the gut wrenching realization that Spencer moved on so quickly, so easily. It felt as if your entire world had been tilted on its axis and you were left to live in a reality that didn't make any sense.

Maya. You hadn't been able to look at her without a sharp pang of jealousy making its way though your chest. The way she spoke to Spencer, so casually, so possessively like you were going to take her from him at any second. But in reality that's what she did to you.

You told yourself that you were fine, that you had enough time to move on and get over that relationship, but its clear you were lying to yourself. Every moment you were in his presence were the few moments of bliss where you could pretend everything with him was normal.

You had loved him. You still did. The harsh truth of that might've hurt worse than tonight's events.

Once you finally arrived home you didn't bother to go inside right away. Turning off the car you sit staring at the dashboard, trying to ground yourself in something, anything but the whirlwind of emotions going on in your mind right now.

As your about to open the door, your phone buzzes in the passenger seat. Picking it up you see it's a message from Penelope.

From: Penny

Are you okay, sweetheart? If you need anything I'm just a phone call away. Please don't let his stupidity ruin your night, we all know how much of an amazing person you are!

A small smile painted its way across your features, though drained and not very genuine.

You quickly texted her back letting her know you were okay and just needed some time to process everything. With that you finally got out of the car making your way inside, preparing for another sleepless night.

-

You had taken the day off. Well technically you didn't request it, it was given to you by Hotch. The team had just gotten back from a long gruesome case and he decided that everyone needed some time to decompress.

It had been a couple weeks since 'The Incident' as Emily has so kindly labeled it. Since then the unkind thoughts hadn't left your mind.

You spent most of the day curled up on the couch barely able to focus on the movies playing on the TV. Your mind was a storm of thoughts that blossomed from that night, though not into flowers, more so like weeds that didn't want to fully be pulled from the ground.

You replayed every word he said that night. Every glance, subtle expression. There was no warmth in his tone, nothing that suggested the gentle, awkward genius who had found solace in your presence.

You knew it hurt, but what hurt more was the realization that Spencer wasn't the only thing you lost that night. You were mourning the loss of what had been,  what could've been.

-

The next morning, you showed up at the office. The decision half-hearted, debating on requesting for another day out of the crowded space. You're not sure what you were expecting, for something to just change overnight, or if you needed to prove to yourself that you could handle it.

You walked in to see the team gathered around the bullpen. Derek was leaning against the counter, talking animatedly to JJ, while Penelope was chattering away in her usual high-energy manner. They all seemed fine, but you knew they could feel your emotions. You had always worn them on your sleeve, and the team was nothing if not perceptive.

And Spencer? He was nowhere to be found.

Your heart dropped, but you quickly masked the disappointment with a neutral expression. You couldn’t allow yourself to think about him right now, not with everything else going on.

As you slid into your chair, you could feel their eyes on you every now and then, but none of them dared to speak up. It was only when the elevator doors opened that you saw Spencer walking toward the bullpen. His usual awkward stride was missing, replaced by something… hesitant. His eyes briefly met yours, but instead of the usual spark of familiarity, there was something different. Something strained.

He was carrying a large coffee cup in his hand, but it seemed like he was just holding it for the sake of holding it.

“y/n,” he said softly, his voice laced with the same uncertainty that had been present in his eyes. You barely met his gaze, your stomach doing somersaults at the sight of him.

“Spence,” you said, offering a forced smile. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing, but you couldn’t let yourself show it.

“I, uh, can we talk?” he asked, his words tumbling out in that way that was so quintessentially Spencer.

Your gaze flickered around the room, but you didn’t want to make a scene. “Now’s not the best time.”

He nodded, but you could see the disappointment in his face. He hesitated for a moment before turning away and heading to his own desk. You didn’t watch him go, how could you?

-

Hours passed, and the tension between you and Spencer lingered like a heavy fog. Every now and then, you caught his eyes lingering on you when he thought you weren’t looking, but every time you met his gaze, he looked away.

You were exhausted. Your mind was scattered. And when you finally gathered the courage to step away from your desk to grab a coffee, it was then that Spencer decided to approach you.

“y/n,” he called out gently, his voice softer now, less urgent.

You paused mid-step, not sure how to respond. His presence was overwhelming, and even though you wanted to retreat, you knew you couldn’t keep avoiding him forever.

Turning around slowly, you nodded. “Spencer.”

“Can we talk?” he asked again, this time with more sincerity in his voice.

You studied him carefully, unsure whether you could trust yourself to keep calm. “Do we really need to? I think we’ve said everything we need to say.”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “I don’t think we have. At least not yet.” He paused, looking down at his feet. “Please.”

You could hear the desperation in his voice, and for the first time since that night, you allowed yourself to truly look at him. You didn’t know what had changed, but you knew it was something important. You had loved Spencer for so long, and maybe it was time to let him explain himself.

“Alright,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s talk.”

-

The conference room door clicked shut behind you, and for a brief moment, you felt like you were trapped. The silence was thick, oppressive. Spencer stood by the window, facing away from you, his shoulders tense, his hands hanging stiffly at his sides. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. The space between you felt impossibly wide, like an ocean stretching between two distant shores.

You wanted to scream. To demand answers. To ask why. But you couldn’t, because the truth was, you were too scared of what might come next. The flood of emotions coursing through you felt like too much to bear. And the pain? The pain was undying.

Finally, Spencer spoke, but his voice was soft, almost trembling. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his words breaking the stillness in the room, but they did little to ease the ache in your chest.

He turned slowly, his eyes dropping to the floor as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. “I’m so sorry. For the way I ended things... for pushing you away.”

His gaze finally met yours, but there was no spark there, no warmth. Just an empty, hollow ache, the same one you felt. The distance between you both was palpable.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I was protecting you. I thought I was giving you space to breathe… to move on. To get away from the chaos that’s always been a part of my life.”

The words struck you like a punch to the gut. Protecting you? Was that what this was? Did he think he was being noble by choosing to shut you out?

“You pushed me away, Spencer,” you said, your voice trembling with the rawness of everything you were holding in. “I didn’t ask for space. I didn’t ask for you to shut me out. I was here… I've always been here.” The anger, the hurt, it all poured out of you, and you couldn’t stop it even if you tried. “I just needed you to be honest with me. To tell me the truth, not hide behind your fears.”

His face faltered at your words, and for a moment, he looked like he might crumble under the weight of your pain. “I was scared,” he admitted, his voice breaking as if he hadn’t even meant to say it. “I was scared that if I kept you close, I would ruin everything. That I’d hurt you more. I thought if I pulled away, you’d be better off without me. But all I’ve done is hurt you even more.”

The truth of his words hit you like a wave, but it didn’t bring relief. Instead, it left you feeling raw, exposed. How could he think that? How could he think leaving was the solution? You had been through so much together. But the thought of him choosing to walk away, of him choosing her, it crushed you.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you, Spencer,” you whispered, the tears you had been holding back threatening to spill over. Your heart was breaking, the weight of everything that had happened too much to carry anymore.

“You didn’t just break my heart… you broke me. I was waiting for you. I thought... I thought we could work through this. But you didn’t give me a chance. And now you’re asking me to just… what? To just forget?”

Spencer’s face crumpled as if your words were a physical blow, but he didn’t look away. He couldn’t. He was broken too, and for the first time, he looked vulnerable, scared even. “I don’t want you to forget,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion.

“I just want a chance. A chance to prove that I’m not that guy anymore. That I’m not the one who left you… that I’m the one who’s ready to fight for us.”

You shook your head, a sob escaping before you could stop it. “I don’t know if I can believe you anymore, Spencer. I don’t know if I can trust you after everything.”

He stepped forward, his hands trembling as they reached out toward you. “Please,” he whispered, desperation creeping into his voice. “I’ve spent every second of the last six months thinking about how much I screwed up, wishing I could go back and do things differently. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, erratic, unsure whether it was breaking or yearning for something—anything that might bring you peace. You knew Spencer had made mistakes, but he wasn’t the only one at fault. You had kept yourself at a distance too, not because you wanted to, but because you were terrified of what this might mean. Of what letting him back in might cost you.

“I’m scared, Spencer,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I’m scared that if I let you back in, you’ll leave again. That you’ll hurt me again.”

He closed the distance between you, standing just inches away now. You could see the unshed tears in his eyes, the way his face was etched with guilt and regret. He reached for your hand, but instead of pulling away, you let him. You let him hold you, as fragile as it felt, as broken as you both were in that moment.

“I won’t leave again,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear. I’ll fight for you. For us. I’ll fight for as long as it takes.”

The raw honesty in his voice, his words full of pain, of hope. It made something inside you snap. The walls you had built around your heart were crumbling, piece by piece. You didn’t know if you could ever go back to the way things were, but maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something new. Something better.

“I’m not asking for things to be perfect,” Spencer continued, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand, the small touch making your pulse race. “I just need you to know that I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You met his gaze then, your eyes brimming with unshed tears, but this time they weren’t just born from hurt. There was something else there. Something like hope. “I’m not ready to forgive you yet, Spencer,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “But I’m willing to try. I’m willing to see where this goes. If you really mean it.”

His face softened, the tension easing just a fraction. “I do,” he whispered, his hand still gently holding yours. “I mean it. More than anything.”

And as he pulled you into his arms, you let yourself hold on, just for a moment. You weren’t sure where this would lead, or if you could ever truly forget the pain. But for the first time in a long while, you weren’t alone. And maybe that was enough.

-

It was one of those quiet mornings that felt like a small slice of heaven. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft glow through the windows, and the only sound in the apartment was the rhythmic hum of the coffee maker.

The air was still cool from the night before, but the warmth of the morning sun slowly crept in, filling the room with a gentle golden light.

You were sitting at the kitchen table, your bare feet tucked under you, a mug of coffee warming your hands. Your hair was messy from sleep, but you didn’t mind.

You had gotten used to waking up next to Spencer every morning, and the sight of him, still half-asleep, a little rumpled, and incredibly endearing, was one of the small things you’d grown to cherish.

Spencer was at the counter, his glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he flipped through a pile of paperwork. The clutter of his case files and textbooks was a normal part of your life now, but the way he had rearranged things over the past few months, more neatly than ever before, was a quiet testament to how much he had changed. He wasn’t perfect, but he was working on it. He was trying, and that was all that mattered.

“Y/n?” Spencer’s voice broke the quiet, pulling your attention away from your thoughts.

You looked up from your coffee, meeting his soft brown eyes. He was still wearing his sleep-filled smile, the one that only appeared after a good night’s sleep, when he wasn’t overthinking or buried under a pile of cases.

“I was wondering… would you mind helping me with something later?” His voice was tentative, but there was something else there now, something more confident. He wasn’t afraid to ask for help anymore.

You’d noticed that shift in him over the past few months, the way he wasn’t afraid to lean on you, to let you in when before he would have kept his distance. It had taken time, but now, when he needed you, he knew how to reach for you without hesitation.

“Of course,” you said with a smile, your heart swelling at how far you’d come since that difficult conversation. “What do you need help with?”

Spencer hesitated for just a moment, glancing down at the paperwork. His fingers hovered over the pile, as though unsure how to ask. “I’m working on this case… and I just need to go over the details. I know you’ve got that… special way of seeing things,” he said with a playful grin, using the affectionate nickname you’d earned after countless cases where your instincts had been spot on. “You’re better at spotting the details than I am.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, playfully teasing. “Oh, so now I’m the expert, huh? I thought you were the genius here.”

Spencer’s smile widened, and he shook his head, walking over to the table and taking a seat across from you. He didn’t even try to hide the fondness in his gaze as he looked at you. “You are the expert,” he said softly. “And I’m just the guy who gets to learn from you every day.”

The words lingered between you, warm and comfortable. You reached across the table, brushing your fingers over his hand in a simple, affectionate gesture. A small smile played on your lips as you felt his fingers intertwine with yours, and for the first time, you didn’t feel like you had to hold anything back. There was no fear of losing each other, no worry that the cracks would reopen. Everything—every single piece of you—had found a place next to him, and for once, it felt right.

“I’ll help you,” you said softly, squeezing his hand. “Just like I always do.”

Spencer’s expression softened, his eyes reflecting a quiet sense of gratitude. You knew, deep down, that he wasn’t just thankful for your help with the case. He was thankful for everything—for your patience, for your trust, for the fact that despite all the mistakes and misunderstandings, you were still here. You had come through the storm together, stronger than before, and you could feel it in every touch, in every glance. There was an unspoken understanding between you now. A promise that no matter what came your way, you would face it as a team.

“You know,” Spencer said, his voice low, “I never thought I’d have something like this. Something so... real. So comfortable.”

You laughed softly, the sound light and free, a stark contrast to the uncertainty that had plagued your earlier months together. “I think we’ve finally figured out how to make it work,” you said, your voice steady and full of warmth. “No more pushing each other away. No more running. Just… us.”

Spencer nodded, his gaze softening as his thumb gently traced the back of your hand. “I’m not running anymore,” he whispered, the sincerity in his voice bringing a warmth to your chest. “I’m staying. For good.”

There was no need for more words. You leaned across the table, your lips brushing his in a kiss that was slow and full of meaning. It wasn’t a kiss filled with urgency or desperation, but one of quiet comfort. One of trust and affection. One that said we’re here, and that was enough.

As you pulled away, you saw the same sense of contentment reflected in his eyes, a peacefulness that had taken months to build but was finally here. You didn’t need anything else, because with Spencer, you had everything you’d ever wanted.

The coffee and case files were long forgotten as the two of you sat there, simply enjoying each other’s company. There was no rush to get to the day, no lingering doubt or fear. Just the warmth of his presence beside you, and the certainty that no matter what the future held, you’d face it together.

all notes and reposts are appreciated!! loving you always xx

divider: @fairytopea

tags: @floralemi12 @laviatia-blog @reggieswriter @hazzarules @spencerreidsglasses @notarobotipromise @gghostwriter @taygrls @powerline-valley @october-baby25 @forevermorepassionate

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[harryspet]

ok but how would dark!Rafe react to the reader coming back to box with a baby she did not know she was pregnant with went she left? But since rafe was always too possessive she decided not to tell him that they had a kid 🙂‍↕️ they used to have some hook ups and was never a real commitment

[warnings] dark!rafe x reader, babydaddy!rafe, emotional/physical abuse, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

word count: 1.4k

“I’m here to pick up a cake. The name is Y/L/N,” You smiled at the young girl working behind the bakery counter as you bounced your toddler on her hip. You’d brought her stroller but Isla was beginning to insist on exploring whatever place you brought her to. You suffered, her weight on your hips, instead of dealing with another meltdown. She was an easy baby, you didn’t have too many sleepless nights when she was younger, but her mood had shifted over the past week.

She was more clingy, more irritable, and it was hard for her to understand that you were only staying on the island for a short time. The trip was brief, a week at most, but necessary. Your sister was getting married, the only reason you’d considered returning at all.

It had been over two years since you last walked these familiar piers, strolled past the charming beachside shops, or caught up with old friends and extended family. So much had changed in that time, not just in your life, but in this place that used to be home. 

“Give us just a few moments. We’re putting on some finishing touches.”

“No problem,” You nodded, still keeping your face pleasant. 

Isla was getting restless, so you decided it was time to let her down.

“Okay, Mama’s putting ya’ down, lovebug,” She was also walking a lot more and could usually walk a few feet on her own before falling. Simultaneously, you pushed her stroller out of the way while you helped her keep her balance with one arm, “Oooh, what’s that?” 

You were always asking her questions, wanting to keep a mental lexicon of all the new words she was using. You could barely keep track now. 

She was talking to herself, using the bakery counter to keep her balance as she walked. You smiled down at her, now able to fully focus on her, without that aching pain you felt on your side. You guided her away from reaching for a glass jar of candy, instead showing her over to a case that displayed a huge array of cookies. 

You heard the bell of the bakery door jingle, and instinctively, you looked up. For a moment, you froze, watching him stride in. Tall, commanding, if anything, time had only sharpened those edges. His face had hardened with the years, the boyishness you once knew replaced by something more formidable. His stature was wider, arms thicker, and chest pronounced. His hair, now buzzed short, added to the maturity that radiated from him, making him look even more intense than before. 

“I’ll take a black coffee. Make it an espresso,” You heard Rafe Cameron say. He hadn’t taken the time to look your way. Your instinct was to grab Isla and leave before he noticed you. Instead you turned your head and led Isla over to one of the cafe tables. 

Your mind was racing but you did your best to keep your movements calm. His voice had sent a chill down your spine and the last thing you needed was for him to notice you. He probably wouldn’t, you told yourself, since the last time he saw you, he didn’t even know you were pregnant. 

You tried to distract Isla by giving her one of her stuffed rabbits but her mood was shifting quickly. She wanted to look at all the baked goods through the glass and no toy would compare to that. Her lower lip started to tremble and as they did, you lifted her into your lap, “I know, baby,” You whispered but she arched her back, starting to wail, “Isla, not right now, please.”

You cooed at her and tried to rock her but now you were afraid you’d made the situation worse, drawn more attention to yourselves. 

“Y/N,” Rafe’s voice was low and you could already hear the disbelief. 

There was no way out of it. You’d been avoiding this exact confrontation and planned to never have to deal with this. When your eyes met with his, you thought of Isla, and kept her tight against you despite her protests. 

Rafe’s gaze bore into you, sharp and questioning, his eyebrow arched in a way that was both familiar and unsettling. His eyes flickered back and forth between you and Isla, trying to piece together the reality that had just unfolded in front of him. Then, with a heaviness that matched the tension in the air, he collapsed into the wooden seat beside yours. He seemed ...exhausted. He folded his arms over the table, his hands gripping the coffee cup as if it were the only thing grounding him.

Present blurred with the past, the intensity of his gaze pulling you back to memories you’d buried long ago. You thought of late nights, laughter and sneaking around. You remembered how he used to look at you, how he saw you at your most vulnerable and still made you feel cherished. 

“Rafe,” You finally spoke, slowly, “It’s been so long–”

“You weren’t ever going to tell me.” 

You swallowed hard, wondering how he had pieced it all together so quickly. Isla, still upset, stared up at Rafe with a mix of curiosity and fear, her small fingers tucked into her mouth. Even with tears streaming down her face, the resemblance was undeniable. She was a perfect blend of both of you—his eyes, your smile, a fusion of your skin tones and hair textures. Your carefully guarded secret was written all over her for him to see.

“No,” You said honestly, “My parents …I did it for them at first. They were concerned.”

“What? You think I’d hurt her or something. My own fucking kid?” He kept his voice at conversational level but the look in his eyes made it feel like it was yelling. 

“I didn’t know…you were so angry when we stopped hooking up,” You started to shrink which was exactly what you were afraid of, “And then when you got arrested …”

“Fuck,” Was all he said, “What’s …What’s her name?”

“Isla,” You answered.

“Isla,” Rafe repeated and for a moment, there was tenderness in his eyes as he looked down at her, “You were pregnant when you left?”

You nodded, “We’re just here for the rest of the week because of my sisters wedding.”

“Where do you live?” Rafe asked and this time you hesitated. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea …”

"I'm going to lay it out for you, Y/N," Rafe began, his voice low and dangerous, his gaze locked on you. "You're going to tell me where you've been living, everything you've been hiding from me these past two years. I want to know who you've been with, who you’ve spread your legs for, who you've let near my daughter. Then, the two of you are coming back to Kildare, and you're going to let me be a part of her life. No more secrets. No more running."

His demands, raw and unfiltered, made you feel a rush of emotions. Fear and anger settled over your features, “Rafe. It’s not …it’s not happening. It’s not about you or me. This is all for her.”

“I’m not letting you shut me out again. Do you understand that?” The young girl behind the counter called your name and you made a move to stand up but Rafe reached across the table to grab your arm. 

“We have to go and I need time to …to figure this out.”

He shook his head and you winced at the pressure he was putting on your skin. “Time? You’ve had two years, Y/N. Two years without me. You walk out of here, I will find you. You leave this island and I will search for you.” 

“This isn’t the place for this. Let me go,” You gritted your teeth. 

“You know what I’m capable of, right?” He eyed you sharply, unrelenting. You thought back to those happy memories. When things were good, they were incredible and when things were bad …You never had a label with Rafe and yet every guy you talked to that wasn’t him always seemed to end up injured or broke contact with you, “And things have changed around here. There are more lines, different lines, I’m willing to cross.”

You knew that coldness in his eyes, you’d seen it many times in the aftermath of his rage. “Rafe, please,” You whispered, “For Isla’s sake.”

“She’s mine and so are you.” You finally nodded, tears stinging your eyes, and he finally loosened his grip.

You made your way with Isla and her stroller back to the counter, collecting your sister’s wedding cake. As you reached your car, you glanced back, half-expecting Rafe to follow you. But he remained inside, watching you through the glass.

+

hope you enjoyed!!

[sonotkari]

Gaeguri

Kang Haerin x Fem Reader

[ Synopsis ]

Frogs. Frogs. Frogs. Everywhere in Kang Haerin's gym bag. You find it cute, and you can't help but point it out to the girl.

Fluff

[ Word Count ]

3.3k yes, it's surprisingly long. I'm surprised as well.

[ a/n ]

Mainly focused on Readers point of veiw! This is based on one of my friends when I pointed out how cute their duck key chain was and she started yapping at rapid speed about it lol Everyone knows how Haerin's fond of frogs so /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\

If you have cute keychains, dis for u bae <3

"Do I really have to go?" I protest with a slight whine as I look at the Aussie girl standing with her arms holding a firm grip on her waist as she huffs. "Yes Y/n, you have to be there" I groaned a bit, sighing in defeat, knowing there was not much I could do to change her mind. "But Hanni, I'll be all alone there" I crossed my arms, sighing again for the millionth time of the day. "I don't wanna awkwardly watch you guys like some loner- no offense to the people out there but- oh you get what I mean!" Hanni rolls her eyes off with a chuckle. "You'll be fine. Danielle will be there. With the others too!" Sighing again, pinching my nose as I grumble out. "Yeah, Dani will be there but for cheer practice! And the others as well"

I felt a pair of hands grabbing my shoulder and the next thing I knew, I was shaking. "C'mon Y/n, you're rarely free after school because of stuco duties... It's a miracle the meeting got canceled today!" Hanni stops shaking me as she lets go of my shoulders. "You have to come see me play for once" "But I always watch you play-" "Not when I'm practicing" She cut me off and looked at the clock hanging on the wall of the classroom. "Shoot, if I get late this time, Ryujin will definitely kill me" Hurriedly packing her things as she took her gym bag, Hanni looked back at me once more before leaving. "And I'll be killing you if I don't see your ass there Y/n. Bye!" I was about to say something but Hanni was already sprinting her way to the gym, saving her life from the basketball captain who hates people getting late for practice.

It was an unusual day today since, for first starters, Minji apparently, had a fever last night so she couldn't come to attend school today. And since the student council couldn't do a meeting without the school president, it had to be canceled. Hanni's off to basketball practice like always. Danielle has cheer practice on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and that happens to be today. Hyein's grounded for some reason, so she has to go home straight or she'll be grounded long enough till her graduation. So that means I'm alone for today and now I have to watch Hanni's practice or else I'll be buried 6 feet underground. I opened my bag and stuffed the notes and textbooks I needed and once I was finished, I started walking my way to the gym. 

The last time I came to the gym was last season's game so it had been a while since. I quietly walked at the sides, glancing at the basketball team from time to time, where they were fully focused on their practice while finding a good spot to sit and watch in silence. My attention snapped when I heard a familiar cheerful voice call out my name. "Y/n!! You came!!" Danielle came rushing from the opposite direction, already opening her arms for a big hug like she always does with any friend she meets. And at her back following the cheery girl, was the cheer captain herself, waving her hand at me gracefully like always as she smiled with her usual soft gaze. "Hey Dani, hey Wonnie" I outed a chuckle as I felt Danielle's warm embrace along with a giggle. "Hey Y/n, isn't it pretty unusual that you're here? Aren't you busy with stuco?" Wonyoung had hugged me as well after Danielle pulled out, scooting to the side. "Yeah, you're usually really busy... What's the occasion??" The other Aussie girl had also asked me with a slightly confused tone. 

"Stuco can't do a meeting without Kim Minji so it got cancelled today" Danielle and Wonyoung both nod their heads understanding the situation with their mouths shaped like the letter O. "Minji did tell me she got a fever... I hope she's doing okay right now..." Danielle says in a worried state, Wonyoung gently rubbing the Aussie's back reassuring her. "She'll be fine in no time Danielle" I nod, agreeing with Wonyoung as I smile at Danielle. "Yeah, she'll give us a text when she's all better for sure" Wonyoung opened her phone, looking at the time on her screen as she looked at Danielle again. "Break's ending soon, we have to go back to practice" Danielle nodded and looked at me with her usual bright smile. "Well, that's our cue, Y/n... We'll see you soon?" I returned the smile at both girls. "Mhm, I'll see you guys soon... Good luck with practice!"

After I bid my goodbyes to the girls and parted ways, I looked down at the benches and saw some towels and water bottles scattered all over. That must be where they take their breaks. I walked down, one step higher than the bench, and sat there to watch them play. A few minutes had passed and the timer rang, signing that it was time for their break. The basketball team slowly walked their way to the bench, casually greeting me before taking a sip of water from their water bottles. I soon spotted Hanni hurrying her way to me with a smile. "You're actually here!" I rolled my eyes with a chuckle at her statement. "Of course, I'd be here. I don't wanna die yet" Hanni comes up my way and jokingly punches my shoulder with a scoff. She drinks water for a while before turning her attention to me. "Thanks for coming tho. I'm glad I get to see you off from being busy once in a while" I couldn't help but get soft at her words.

I really loved these tiny moments where Hanni would word it out how she cared deeply for her friends. I know she cares a lot more than anyone could ever imagine but the girl rarely puts it to words, making these moments extra special for me. "I should thank Minji for it" I expressed an unbelief-shocking face as it was my turn to punch the girl's shoulder. "Stop assaulting the poor sick girl, Hanni!" After chuckling out an apology, the Aussie girl went back to practice with the others as well, leaving me alone again to watch them in silence at the sides.

I was dazing off for a while after watching the basketball game for some time when I felt a presence coming this way. I shifted my gaze to see the girl with the familiar basketball jersey, her gym bag slinging from her shoulder as she quietly walked her way to the benches. Kang Haerin. She's one of Danielle's close friends, beside us Hanni, Minji, and Hyein. But, I never got to get close to her since every time I see her with Danielle and I interact with the Aussie girl, she suddenly disappears like thin air without Dani and I noticing. She's usually quiet and never talks unless you're close to her. And that one valid person is Danielle Marsh and Danielle Marsh only. She noticed me and we locked gaze for a moment before she shifted hers away, sitting on the bench as she plopped her gym bag on the side as well. 

My eyes noticed a certain thing on her gym bag. Well, it was hard not to actually. Frogs. Frogs. Frogs. Some were patched on the side, and some were hanging from the strap. But they were all frogs. I locked my gaze at two crocheted frog keychains that somehow looked like it was looking my way. Does Kang Haerin like frogs? No- it looks more like she loves frogs. In all of the animals she could like, it's frogs? Kang Haerin loves frogs? 

I couldn't stop myself from chuckling at this newly known fact of the girl. Kang Haerin loves frogs. How cute is that??? The girl had heard me apparently, as she turned to her shoulders, our eyes meeting again doing so. She stared at me for seconds with her big black cat eyes, probably confused, even tho she didn't look like it at all, on why I was suddenly laughing out of nowhere without anyone near me to cause it, laughing like that which totally does not sound like a creep at all. Before I left a weird impression on the girl, I slowly pointed out the crocheted frogs hanging from her gym bag. "Those little ones are cute... Do you like frogs?" I felt like I saw the girl's eyes widen a bit but then she looked down at her gym bag, to where I was pointing, and looked back at me. After some seconds, Haerin slowly nodded at me, parting her lips to say something. "They're supposed to be species called Banded Bullfrogs" 

I was surprised that she'd talk to me in the first place, but she was kind enough to tell me what species the crocheted pair was. Banded Bullfrogs. "Aren't those the ones native to southeast Asia?" I blurted out of curiosity as I was thinking about it. I'm sure I heard our biology teacher talk about it once in class. I don't remember when but I'm pretty sure... I looked back at Haerin and jolted a bit as she was now staring at me intensely. Did I say something wrong? Was my frog facts wrong? I remembered it wrong...!? I felt myself panicking inside more as I saw the girl's lips parting again, scared that she might scold me for getting the wrong facts about her beloved frogs. But instead, I was met with a light gentle tone. 

"Yeah, they are native to southeast Asia..." Relief washed all over my body as I quietly let out a breath I didn't know I was holding until now. But I couldn't help jolting again as I heard her speak up. "It's common in India and Nepal as well. It walks and digs compared to other frogs which jump mostly. They bury themselves in the dirt until it rains so they can avoid getting dry and also avoid getting eaten. Did you know, they eat small insects like ants but they can also eat beetles too? Not in the wild tho, it's kinda difficult for them to eat big things in the wild. And when they get threatened by predators like snakes, their body inflates larger than their actual size to scare them off. That's why they're called fat frogs as well" She took a quick breath before staring at me again, probably a signal that she finished what she wanted to say. I never heard Haerin speak this much before, especially when I'm not as close as she is with Danielle. I slowly nod at the facts she just rambled at me right now while shifting my gaze at the two frogs. 

"But, aren't they supposed to be more... brown?" I tilted my head slightly as I stared at the green-colored frog's eyes, somewhat staring back at me. I heard a soft sigh escaping from Haerins and fixed my gaze back on her. "Well, my mom doesn't know about frogs that much so she probably thought every frog was colored green. And I couldn't say no to using the yarn she bought for me to crochet these so..." I hummed in response as I nodded again, understanding the little frog crisis she had. The timer rang again and Shin Ryujin walked to Haerin's way while she was steadying her breaths from running around court. "Kang, you're up next..." The basketball captain says breathlessly as she puts her hands on her waist, catching her breath more properly. Haerin looked back at me for a while lastly, before standing up and walking her way to the other members. 

Sometime after, the practice had finally come to an end. Everyone started packing their gym bags and some were already heading out to go home. I stood up from my seat, about to leave the place and wait for Hanni by the school gates instead, when I felt a familiar pair of eyes gazing at me intensely, again. I glanced at the side to see Haerin staring at my soul for who knows how long and how many times now. "Are you coming again tomorrow?" The girl asked with her usual big black cat eyes piercing on me. I didn't get the question quite well, looking at her with a confused expression. "To practice. Are you here tomorrow too?" "Ahhh... No, I don't think so..." I mumbled as I pondered about tomorrow. The stuco meeting can't be postponed any longer so I think I'll be back with my duties again starting from tomorrow. "I have student council duties after school tomorrow, I think" Haerin slowly nodded, finally averting her gaze down as she did so. "I'm ready! Let's go I'm starving already..." Hanni whined with a sigh as she walked her way to me with her gym bag slung on her shoulder. "Haerin-ah!! Are you finished?" Danielle came from the other way, calling Haerin like always for them to go home as well. I locked eyes with Haerin one more time before giving her a small smile and I started heading out towards the exit with Hanni following from the back. "Since when were you close with Kang Haerin??" "Since we talked about frogs" "Huh???" 

Minji's recovery speed was rapid. She came to school the next day like she wasn't piping hot the day before. The stuco meeting was held, and after 2 long hours of duties and other work, I finally got to leave the school building. I was walking my way to the gates when I saw someone standing by, seeming to be waiting for someone. The rest had almost already gone home at this time so it's kind of unexpected for someone to wait till this hour. But then my eyes went wide, noticing who this person was, standing by the gates. "Haerin?" She noticed me and looked up from gazing down at her feet. "Who are you waiting for this hour? Almost everyone's home..." She looked at me for a while, blinking a couple of times before she spoke up. "You. I was waiting for you" "Huh? Me? Didn't basketball practice finish like an hour ago??" She slowly nodded to what I just said. "You waited for me for an entire hour?? Why? Did you need anything...?" After a few seconds of silence, she finally took something out of her bag. It was one of the crocheted frogs from yesterday. She silently handed it out to me with a nonchalant expression. "You're... giving this to me?" She silently nods again. "But isn't this important to you? You worked hard for it..." "And I want you to have it" 

I gently took the little frog from her hand and looked down at it. It was neatly crocheted with big black eyes and cute pink-tinted cheeks. A big smile was plastered on my face as I looked up at Haerin, flashing her my big smile with gratitude. "Thanks Haerin... I appreciate it..." The girl didn't utter a word and just stared at me, like usual. "But you didn't have to wait an hour for me... I feel kinda bad" Haerin shook her head to the side this time. "I chose to wait on my own. And I didn't have your number anyways" I quickly took out my phone from the pocket of my jacket and opened my contacts, handing it out to Haerin after. "If you don't mind typing yours here, I can text you later" The girl's eyes shifted on my phone and after a while, she gently took it from my hands and started typing. A few seconds later, she handed me back my phone, and I smiled back at her with a 'thank you. "So, which way do you go home?" Haerin pointed out the way and I smiled widely at her for the second time of the day. "We go the same way! Let's walk home together then" 

Haerin taught me a whole lot about frogs and how she had grown to like them. Back when she was in grade school, her friend suddenly blurted out that Haerin looked like a frog character and ever since then, she'd become a big frog lover. After we parted ways, I got home and texted Haerin. Even in texts, she would casually bring up frog facts, changing subjects from here to there in seconds. It was fun to see how the girl who was usually quiet, just piercing her gaze at people, would change into this mini biologist, teaching you that frogs aren't so good with catching prey who don't move much. Knowing her love for the cute small animal, I had an idea in mind. 

I rushed my way to the gym, panting as I looked around for one particular girl. "Oh Y/n, what are you doing here...? Aren't you supposed to be with Minji?" I looked at my side to see Wonyoung coming down towards me as she drank some from her water bottle. "I kinda ran away and now I have a span 10 minutes before she notices and gets full president mode on me..." I breathlessly say so, gaining a small chuckle from the cheer captain, crossing her arms as we speak. "So, why's the secretary of the student council running away from duties? This isn't like you Y/n..." Wonyoung chuckles again, looking at me with full of curiosity in her eyes. "I'm here for Haerin. Kang Haerin, have you seen her?" She looked around and pointed to the sides where one familiar girl was standing, finding something from her gym bag. "Thanks Wonnie! You're a lifesaver!" I quickly say so as I rushed my way to Haerin. 

"Haerin!!" I called her name out and saw her jolt a bit before looking back at me. "Y/n...?" "Hey, hi, sorry for interrupting whatever you're doing... It's just I don't have much time and Minji would kill me if she knew I neglected stucco duties-" I say all in one go and take some breaths before I'd officially pass out. Haerin didn't utter a word and just stood there, probably waiting for me to get to the point. I huffed one more time before I fixed my gaze back to the girl. "I wanted to give this to you..." I say so as I pull it out from my pocket. It was a small crocheted frog, much smaller than the one Haerin gave me. But this was in color brown. Like the Banded Bullfrogs. "It's small, and I figured out I'm bad at crocheting in a hard way so it's a lot messy but..." I chuckled softly at Haerin as I took her hand and placed it in her palms. "I got the color right... Now you actually have a Banded Bullfrog!" I was getting more nervous as seconds passed and she still hadn't uttered a thing, just staring at the small brown frog in her hands.

But it all faded away, replacing a warm feeling on my chest, when I saw her smiling. For the first time since we've talked and became close. Kang Haerin had smiled. Over my crappy frog crochet. What's happening? "Thanks, Y/n... it's adorable" She said with full affection as she gawked the frog with a big smile plastered on her face. "You're... welcome..." My heart was a beating mess, if she wasn't so focused on the frog, I know she'd be able to hear it. The timer rang and the basketball captain had called out Haerin to come. She looked back at me with a smile smaller than earlier as she quickly blurted out words before going her member's way. "I'll take good care of it, I promise" 

I silently watch her jog off to Ryujin, hearing my heartbeat still pounding loudly, knowing someone would definitely hear if they were close. I took deep breaths as I averted my gaze, landing on the green crocheted frog hanging on Haerin's gym bag which Haerin and I were matching. It's probably just me but, it felt like the frog was looking at me with a knowing expression. It's a damn crocheted frog. 

"Don't look at me like that" 

no, i didn't spend an hour googling about frogs. what are u talking about?

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

Honey bee (dad!hanjisung)

The whole "favourite parent" theory never really convinced you to the fullest, not with how much Daisy was obsessed with her father, her very first word being "dada!", the biggest rounded eyes looking excitedly at him, her cute little mouth just a happy happy o shape as she tuned to her dad when you had first asked her to try and say the word, which nearly brought Jisung to tears right then and there.

With you being the parent that was at home the most though, you were quite used to being wrapped around her little finger, catering to her every need, helping her and caring for her through her trickiest nights and seasonal flu.

Jisung tried his very very best at being as present as possible and not miss on any important milestones such as her first word, which had happened fairly recently, or the first few little steps she walked from your seated figure to him, resting his bum on the carpet, opposite you, both of your arms outstretched for her shall she stumble on her little feet. He was there. Overjoyed.

Whenever he came home from work, be it at 2 in the morning or 4 in the afternoon, he always made sure to go and see his baby, even if it was for a little bit, like his lunch break or five minutes before going to bed, he always stuck to his habit of just taking a few minutes to just look at her, kiss her cheek, play with her or have a cuddle if she was awake.

And Daisy must have developed a sixth sense for that, even for a toddler as young as barely one year old, she just knew whenever her dad was about to come home. And she would become just a liiiiiitle restless and fussy with either excitement or desperate anticipation. Hence you secretly started to believe perhaps he was the favourite parent, probably cause she loved him so, and missed him just as much, despite his best efforts.

Tonight was just one of those nights, Jisung had literally just gotten home not even 3 hours ago, it was way past her bed time but none of you had the heart to deny either of you some bonding family time, or better yet father and daughter quality time.

He had postponed his shower and his unpacking and just picked her up from the floor where she was playing quietly with you, and smothered her little face with kisses and hugged her and hold her and played with her for as long as possible before she required a nappy change and the delayed night time routine.

Neither of you felt like you were being bad parents. Routines and regular sleeping schedules were important but so is being patient and lenient, understanding of your child needs and yours as parents too. A little indulgence and some extra cuddles never hurt anyone.

Bathed and half way through her bottle, baby Daisy was having a hard time concentrating on the soft lullaby bed time story you were reading her, she kept rubbing her small chubby knuckles into her eyes and half giggling cause she was too awake and eager, kept fidgeting and twitching in her sleeveless sleep sack she usually loved being swaddled in.

"Ah I see, you're not so sleepy tonight are you? Silly little bloom you are", you giggle at her cute happy and definitely more than alert face, gently pinching her rosy cheeks, "is someone just so excited dada's home? Shall we go see him? Shall we have dada sing you to sleep tonight?", you suggest rhetorically, knowing that even though she can't fully grasp what you're saying she definitely understands any mention of her father.

With a little huffing and puffing from the effort, you roll over onto the side and get up from her little bed wich you had squeezed yourself in, you unzip her sleeping sack and pick her up, gently brushing away her satiny soft wisps of dark brown hair, just barely curling at the tips, you balance her on your hip, careful to distribute her weight evenly so you don't strain yourself, and slowly pad into the corridor and then into your master bedroom where you find your husband folding his clothes into the closet, his suitcases now empty, discarded on the floor beside the bed.

"Knock knock? A certain daisy bloom is requesting her sweet honey bee to help her sleep tonight", you announce playfully as you cup your daughter's little hand and help her knock on the door, Jisung spins around with a start, his face immediately lighting up, "oh goodness!", he muses excitedly, dropping whatever shirt he was trying to neatly fold in his lap.

He walks over to you, grinning from ear to ear, and gently lifts Daisy from your arms and into his, holding her close to his chest so he can place a fluttery stream of kisses into her hair, "is it true Deiji girl? you want Dada?", he coos, sitting on the edge of the bed, relishing in the way his baby girl latches onto him, her little arms and hands trying to grip onto his neck as she squeaks happily, "da-dda", she blubbers, burying her face into his chest.

He shoots you the puppy eyes, his bottom lip trembling, the look on his face so devastatingly amazed and touched, which you reciprocate, clutching your own chest, watching as he cuddles her closer while he scoots on the bed so he can rest his back onto the bed frame, the baby not even shifting into his arms, her ear pressed onto his pectoral, perhaps a subconscious reminiscence of when she used to do that as a newborn.

Endless were the days when Jisung wouldn't dare breathing too loud, scared he would disturb her sleep, and would hold her like that for hours on end, the tiny shell of her ear pressed onto his hearbeat, his hands rubbing her back ever so lightly in soothing motion, his lips brushing her head every once in a while in a dream like state, or a suppressing-his- leg - cramps - and- impeding- need- to- pee- and- breathe- normally- hazy state. For there was no way in hell he was going to move and wake her up.

Fatherhood. What an immense blessing to have been bestowed upon him. Jisung was the most wonderful father despite the demands of his tight working schedules, he had been pouring himself out for your daughter from day one, and you had been witnessing him blossoming into his nurturing calling just like his first baby name's sake.

"You guys... I'm going to cry", you mumble, feeling suddenly very emotional at the scene before you, "me too... oh... how I missed her", Jisung sniffles, snuggling his baby tightly but still carefully enough so he doesn't crush her, "she's so cuddly I'm going to die", he adds then, holding her up closer to his face so he can kiss her cheeks and her forehead and the tip her nose and her cheeks again and her nose again.

"You are the best cuddler in the whole world you know that sweetheart?", he says softly, gazing into his daughter boba brown eyes, a miniature version of his own eyes, along with the squishiest cheeks and poutiest lips she inherited straight from him as well, whereas she had your nose and your chin and seemingly your hair, the perfect tiny combination of both of you guys' genes.

Daisy tilts her head to the side and slabbers a little, adorable loud giggles escaping her mouth, "dadda eeppyy", she gabbles, trying to stand on her tippy toes in Jisung's lap, whose hands hover over her small frame, catching her whenever she wobbles unsteadily, "dada's sleepy? Yeah, I am sleepy. Is Daisy sleepy too? Shall we go night night?", he says sweetly, smiling proudly, elated at just how bright and smart and cute his daughter is, "ya", she says in her tiny voice, trying to nod lightly, mimicking a small yawn after.

"Okay, night night we go then. Let's say bye bye to omma and sissy first! Say night night mommy, night night sissy!", Jisung instructs tenderly, brushing her hair with his fingers and then gently guiding her to you so she can crawl over and cup your cheeks in her little hands:" nah nah mam-mah", she babbles, her aim a little off when she tries to kiss your cheek and ends up slobbering all over your face.

Which you can't help but laugh endeared at: "good night sweetie, I love you, sissy loves you too!", you say softly, your hands cradling your round bump. A fond smile and soft gaze into his eyes, Jisung pecks your lips once, lingering there just for a second, a promise for more at a later time.

"Let's say bye bye to sissy too, where is sissy?", he adds then, gently encouraging Daisy to use her little pointer finger to poke at your chest, just slightly above your heart, "aw sissy is mommy's heart, but she's also in mommy's belly!", he prods her on gently, until she pokes your belly too, smiling excitedly, "good girl! There's sissy! say goodnight sissy, I love you! like this, here, watch dada", he explains patiently, bending down to kiss your belly once, and then twice, and then thrice.

Soon enough Daisy copies him and you find yourself overwhelmed with a flurry of slobbery kisses all over your tummy and your chest, the echo of your husband and daughter's giggling and smacking their lips on your skin making your tear up with both joy and the prickling feeling of having to go toilet with how much they're ticking you.

"Night night Nari, we love you", Jisung whispers, his lips pretty much still attached to you, an arm firmly wrapped around his toddler and the other cradling your belly, honey dripping from his words and his eyes.

[multifictional]

A court of Burning Seasons || Part 2

— > eris vanserra × archeron!reader, lucien vanserra x elain archeron

• Part 2: at the human festival Elain is enjoying her time with Lucien while dealing with her dwelling emotions. In the meanwhile, y/n finds refuge in her loneliness but someone unexpected interrupts her.

• Summary: Y/n Archeron always felt the pull of autumn, even as a human. The fallen leaves, the warm colours, the spicy sweets, even her birthday. For Elain, it was the sun and the way of feeding her gardens and flowers with its light. Together in the Night Court after being thrown into the Cauldron, they both feel out of place. But while Elain has her growing bond with Lucien, y/n remains an outsider. With her powers still silents even after years, she feels a longing she can't quite place. A mating bond with Eris Vanserra is the last thing she expects and also what she seemed to need. But nothing is ever easy as it seems in Prythian, especially not with Beron impeding presence and courts rivalries always finding a way of creating complications.

• Warnings: an Elucien moment with building tension. Eris appearance is enough of a warning I suppose.

• Word count: 4943

[part 1]

The human lands weren’t as you remembered. It didn’t come as a surprise; after all, you hadn't been there during the war with the King of Hybern. Things had undoubtedly changed, like you always suspected. Years passed, and time always altered things, leaving a permanent mark behind, no matter what.

Staying a few steps behind, you followed the others into the village filled with the familiar sounds and smells that now seemed far too different. Feyre and Rhysand, as expected, led the group, their heads held high, looking like they owned the entire world, untouchable. You rolled your eyes at the sight. Sometimes, you missed the old Feyre, the version that wasn't so blinded by power.

Your gaze softened as it landed on your sister and Lucien, walking side by side, sharing a comfortable silence with their hands tucked together and fingers entwined. Their connection was undeniable, although hesitancy still loomed over them at every step.

You didn’t mind being the one left out, trailing a little behind. Loneliness never bothered you. If anything, the feeling of not being pampered was something you always welcomed with quiet pleasure. And today it felt a rare gift to breath, finally out from the Court of Dreams, even if you knew it wouldn't last more than a few hours.

Elain had been right. It was midst autumn in the human lands. The air smelled of decay and renewal, and as you walked silently, your heart began to thrum heavier than usual, in time with the rhythm of the fallen leaves you were scrounging below your feet.

Damn, how you had missed this sound.

You reached down to pick up a fallen leaf, inspecting it with quite reverence. It was deep brown, with veins of gold tracing the edges, still soft despite its dying state. It had fallen recently, not yet dry, but slowly wilting. Even in death, there was still life, and you always found comfort in that. To you, it symbolized the bittersweet balance between the endings and new beginnings.

Elain’s soft chuckle broke through your thoughts and you looked up to find her watching you with amusement. "Here you go," she teased softly. “I told you.”

“You like leaves?” Lucien asked, surprised.

Even after all this time, he still didn't fully understand you. Nobody did, not even yourself sometimes. You hesitated for just a moment, as much as you trusted your only friend, the question almost felt... personal.

But it was Elain who answered. She scoffed, but there wasn’t malice in her voice, just an affectionate knowing. “She always did. Ever since we were children. Always picking them up.”

Her openness in sharing this little detail you always kept so guarded made you stiffen slightly, a strange discomfort creeping in. But before you could retreat into yourself, Lucien's gentle smile reassured you. “Well, they are kind of magical.”

His voice grew suddenly quiet and his expression shifted into something nostalgic and thoughtful, his gaze clouding into something deeper than memories, taking him to another time, another place. As much as he hated his old court, it was still where he had learned how fragile life could really be, even for a Fae. The forest, with all its towering trees and fallen leaves, had always been his shelter, the only refuge untouched by his father cruelty.

Sensing the shift in the air, perhaps from the subtle tension in Lucien’s body or through the bond she was finally start to acknowledge, Elain squeezed his hand, the gesture grounding him back to the present. His smile returned, small but sincere, with the intention of brushing off the weight of his memories. Elain was too attentive to let go, but still, she didn’t press. If he was willing to give her time and space, then so would she.

"I can show you more than just trees here," Elain murmured, her voice a soft invitation while humans started to gather from their houses to approach the crowd and socialize. "We’re here for the festival, and I want to share it with you."

Lucien's heart thrummed at the idea. Even though the mansion that once belonged to the Archerons was destroyed by the war, they were still in the human lands. He thrived for the little moments he could get to simply stay with her, to learn more of how she saw her world, and of what it was really made of. Just the thought of sharing something new with Elain, something that would be theirs, filled his heart with a joy he never felt before.

Without realizing it, Lucien took a step closer to Elain and, to his surprise, she did the same. For a fleeting moment, the people around them faded away, leaving just the two of them, far away from the real world and on the edge of something deeper.

"Alright, alright, that's enough company for the night," you chimed in, unable to hold back a little chuckle, breaking their bubble. You could feel the tension hanging in the air and you couldn't help but tease. "I will leave you two alone."

You caught your sister's flustered reaction as you gave them an almost too exaggerated shrug before turning away without many ceremonies.

Elain's reaction wasn't lost on Lucien either. He had already promised he wouldn't press her, for any reason at all. So he made himself another promise: he wouldn't let his instincts, or even Elain's for that matter, to get the better of them before she was absolutely ready.

He almost kissed her. The thought sent a tightness through his chest. He had dreamed about how this very moment could happen many times. But he wouldn't let it happen like this. It was too soon. Too fast.

So Lucien found himself thankful for your timely interruption.

It was almost strange to think that, once, you had been among humans. And, more than that, that you had been one of them, living a life that should have been normal but wasn't. Years had passed, and everything changed. Your body, for instance. You were stronger now, a little taller, and sharper than before, in ways that weren't just physical. But you never cared about that. Not the way your sister did.

What would never change, though, was the feeling of not belonging. You still felt it, in every fiber of your body, as you stood in the village square, watching the humans dance beneath the lanterns and remembering how you used to share these same festivals. No matter where you were or how much the world around you changed, you always felt like an outsider looking in.

There was one thing that always felt right, someway. That made you feel less alone. And as the autumn wind brushed against your skin, cool and crisp, you remembered what it felt like. You stopped in the middle of the path and shrugged off your light jacket. Closing your eyes, you relaxed your shoulders, letting the welcoming sting of the wind and the scent of autumn settle something restless in you.

You had missed this feeling.

A familiar spicy scent made you hum appreciatively. It was a mix of spice and fire, deep and rich, but before you could savour it, reality hit you like a slap and your hands clenched at your sides. You perfectly remembered the day Feyre had returned to your family's mansion, asking for help. She had struggled to explain that mortal foods no longer satisfied her.

That's it, you swallowed down the bitterness you felt. I'm here, and I can't even eat the food. Now I belong even less. Amazing.

You exhaled sharply, but you barely had the time to finish the thought when someone brushed past you, his voice cutting through the din of the festival, just loud enough to be overheard.

"Sleeping on your feet in the middle of a party and blocking the path for everyone's enjoyment,” his words were dry of amusement, purposely mocking and laced with something sharper that seemed disdain. "Mortals never learned how to behave properly."

You blinked. Once. Twice. Your first instinct was to ignore him. Whoever he was, he couldn't possibly know that you had once been raised to act like a lady, or that you had been taking a moment to breathe the air that made you feel something, anything, before returning to the golden cage that was the Night Court.

Mortals. That's how he called you. And only a Fae could say something like that. So you found yourself calling him out, your tone calm but sharp enough to cut. Usually, you would have turned around and let people talk. After all, the Mother only knew how many times you had to do this with Feyre and her little Inner Circle.

But something, about his exact words, about him, made you react.

"I'm not a mortal, you asshat," you shot back, not bothering to raise your voice. If he was Fae, he would hear you just fine. "You should be able to recognize the difference instead of mumbling about manners."

You didn't wait for a response, you didn't even care if your words had reached him. You had already decided to walk away with the strange satisfaction of having spoken up after so much time and ready to disappear into the festival crowd.

But the Fae did hear you.

And, as you turned to walk away, a strange feeling made you glance over your shoulder at the exact same time he turned towards you. It was just a fraction of a second, but it was enough. Your eyes met.

A flicker of color. Auburn hair, sharp face and an assessing gaze that burned like embers. Something in you tugged, deep and sudden, like a whisper of wind you couldn't quite catch, completely out of reach. It disappeared almost right away and you turned away first, pushing it into the back of your mind before, the moment already long gone.

Behind you, the stranger remained still, standing in the middle of the crowd like you had been before, his body rigid and his vision sharpened as his breath caught in his throat. He felt it, stronger than anything he ever felt. Something snapped right in the middle of his chest. He recognized it exactly for what it was: a bond.

The mating bond.

He didn't call out for you, he could't. He couldn't do anything other than staring at the place where you had been and disappeared before his very eyes. And for the fist time after so many centuries, the stranger was completely, utterly frozen in shock.

Lucien and Elain wandered through the market of the festival, the scent of spiced pastries filling their nostrils as they passed the stands. He glanced between the crows and Elain, her silence louder than the chatter around them. After their almost kiss she had withdrawn into herself again. Not entirely, but enough for him to feel it. He knew they would have to talk about what happened sooner or later, but he wouldn't press her. Not yet, anyway.

“Do you think y/n will be fine alone?” Elain murmured, her fingers twitching over the edge of her dress.

Lucien exhaled quietly and shook his head, seeing right though it. An excuse. A distraction from had nearly happened, perhaps to ease the tension between them, without addressing it directly.

And he let her have it. “You know your sister better than that," he said, turning slightly towards her. "She can handle herself just fine. And perhaps being alone is exactly what she is after.” He approached her with an hesitant a step, lowering his voice just a fraction. “Let’s not talk about her right now, alright?”

Elain’s eyes flickered up to his, uncertain but searching for something. Then, she nodded. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to feel. On one side, she did realize what would have happened if her sister didn't interrupt, and she felt relieved. On the other side, though, the excitement for the novelty of their relationship lingered inside her. She thrived to discover the depth of what it could really be, without blaming their bond and her trauma for it.

Without realizing it, her hand grazed his arm, a featherlight touch that sent something twist in Lucien's chest. He went still, forcing himself to breathe and to not lean into it too much, although his instincts roared otherwise. Enjoy this, no expectation of any sort, he had to remind himself, do not ruin this opportunity.

They drifted towards a small, hidden garden close enough to the main road, its entrance framed with twisting ivy and golden leaves. Lucien wasn't surprised. In the short time he had truly known Elain, he had recognized her pull towards nature, especially gardens and flowers. It was one of the many things that called him to her. There was something about gardening, a simplicity, that was so Elain.

Lucien felt her hand slipping away and he immediately felt the absence of her warmth. The bond had always been strong for him. For Elain it was quieter, something resting just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to snap into place. But for him, it was a living thing, a force he had to keep tamed so it wouldn't consume him whole. And now, at their first date, he felt it pulling towards her like a non ending force.

He clenched his fists to keep from reaching for her, but his smile didn't falter, as Elain walked through the garden and kneeled. When she stood, he was beside her in an instant, not hovering, just curious. She was holding delicately a dry sunflower.

"This shouldn't have been here," she murmured sadly, almost to herself, tracing the petals gently with gentleness, as if it was something sacred, something suffering an atrocious pain. "There wasn't enough sun. It died without it."

Lucien tilted his head. "You like sunflowers?"

Elain smiled despite herself/a small, almost shy smile tugged at her lips. "Y/n showed them to me where we were kids. She had realized they seemed to be around in autumn."

"Your sister has an eye for detail."

She smiled smugly/Elain let out a soft, amused huff. "Oh, she still does. Even if she doesn't seem like it/pretends otherwise," she shook her head, but her smile faltered/faded as she looked back down at the flower. "It soon became my favorite flower."

He studied her, his voice careful. "And why is it?"

Elain hesitated, as if considering whatever or not to answer, but then she quietly responded. She heard the cautious and pure curiosity in his tone, and it warmed her heart. She was glad it wasn't the bond influence, but simply him, wanting to know her as a person first, and later as a mate. In that very moment, she didn't mind either of them.

"They remind me of the sun," there was a strange confidence in her eyes. "And, without it, we wouldn't have flowers of any kind. Nothing would grow. The sunlight feeds the flowers, and it feeds us too."

In the unmistakable silence that followed, something in her eyes shone as she met his gaze. "I know it was you," she said softly, still holding the sunflower. "It was you who told Feyre I should spend time outside. When you came the first time to the Night Court," she turned the flowers between her fingers. "I should thank you for that, because it had worked. You understood what I needed without even knowing me."

Lucien swallowed, stiffening slightly. He hadn't expected her to mention it. His throat felt tight as he remembered. Mother, he did remember far too well how small she had seemed back then. Like a shadow of herself, a shell so close to herself nobody knew how to open even a little bit. He remembered how she addressed their bond without even realizing, how she said nonchalantly he could hear his heartbeat, perhaps even hearing how it has skipped a beat at those very words. It was when his mating instincts flared for the first time.

You reminded me too much of my mother, he thought, but didn't dare say it out loud. The memory of her sending painful stabs into his heart. Alone and trapped in her own court, unable to step out from the shadows, trapped by a cruel a fate she didn't chose.

He had know what she needed. Even then, he had always been the only one who actually did. Even more than y/n.

"You don't need to thank me. Sometimes what we need isn't obvious, even to the people who are supposed to love us," he muttered, making the silence linger for a second. "I just realized how clear it was that all you needed was fresh air and time. That's all."

Elain exhaled, a barely audible sound. "And yet, they didn't. You were the one who realized. Not them. You."

Lucien looked didn't know what to say to that. So instead, he reached for sunflower in her hand and gently took it. "This isn't dead," he murmured, assessing it. Elain saw his mechanical eye concentrating and then, with a flick of his fingers, a golden thinner of magic passed over the petals, before passing it to her with a knowing smile. "It just needs time to reshape. But it's in good hands now."

Elain looked at the flower, then him, understanding gnawing at her. He had used his magic to heal it. For her. It wasn't dead, but it had been at the bridge of dying, but she had picked it up just in time. Lucien had understood what her heart wished without her saying it aloud.

"Or..." Lucien added after some seconds. "You could keep it as a memory from the human lands. To remind yourself that just because your life changed doesn't mean you have to forget who you were. Because it's still part of you." He reached out and tackled the sunflower carefully into her hair. "It suits you. It's radiant, just like you."

A flush deepened on Elain's neck. She was closer now. Close enough for him to see the way her gaze flickered from his eye to his lips. Lucien's chest tightened at the sight, as he felt it through the bond. Her excitement. Her curiosity. Now even stronger than before.

But her wouldn't rush this. He wanted to do this right.

"Shouldn't we check on y/n?" he asked instead. He didn't step back, but he didn't move forward either.

Elain grimaced slightly, glancing at the forgotten festival, not ready to leave the garden behind yet. "Do we really have to?"

Lucien smirked at her quiet tone, startled by the sudden vulnerability in her tone. "You know we do."

She sighed, but the, hesitantly yet deliberately, she reached for his hand. Lucien swallowed hard, trying to push down his instincts that were now in overdrive at her gesture, at her willingness to try, to understand the bond. It was a tortuous dance between patience and restraint, but he would wait, because she was worth it. But even so, walking beside her, hearing her laugh, feeling her delicate and at times hesitant touch, seeing her eyes sparkle with a light that he had longed to see, it was more than he deserved, and less than he craved.

Yet, he wouldn't take it for granted. Not ever. Elain needed this, even if she didn't yet realize it herself. He wouldn't let her excitement rush her into things she wasn't ready for. She wanted to understand things first, she had said it clearly, and for that to happen, she needed time. They both needed it.

Lucien wanted to take things slowly, to get to know her, even if that meant fighting his own nature. But he would do that for her. But he couldn't deny what he couldn't still fully believe. They were together. They were a couple. The word still felt almost foreign to him, unreal. But it was happening. She had given him a chance, and he wouldn't let anything, anything at all, get in between.

He was with her. And that alone, to him, was all that mattered.

You walked between the stands of the human festival, ignoring the chatters that flowed all around you. The deep purple of your dress trailed over the paving stone paths, the hem rustling through the fallen leaves. In the end, you hadn't been able to resist your own urges and you now stood in the line at one of the food stalls.

A few moments later, a warm cinnamon roll sat in your hands, the scent rich with spice. You took a bite, but it didn't taste as you remembered, like you expected. Not entirely bad, but still, different. Like most things since your transition. Yet you had seen it and you couldn't help it. The simple sweet flavor had been a staple of your childhood, a small comfort in a life were belonging didn't exist for you.

But it wasn't enough. The feeling you sought didn't come, and you knew the reason. It was because it wouldn't last long. Nothing ever did. Still, you were determined to steal a few moments of peace away from Velaris, from the suffocating cage of the Court of Dreams.

Then, suddenly, you smelled it.

A scent, faint but unmistakable, that you would recognize everywhere: smoke and burning woods. It made your stomach tighten.

The vendor recognized the wrinkle of your nose and the way you stopped eating. "Is there something wrong, milady?"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his careful politeness and the tremble of his voice. Despite all Feyre's efforts, humans still feared the fate, and they didn't bother hide it from you. Or, perhaps, you just observed too much. You didn't cover your years like your sister and her company, you didn't soften your presence, and you couldn't care less whatever they recognized what you had become or not.

It wasn't your problem.

You scoffed. "No need to hide the fear, sir. If I wanted to hurt you, you wouldn't have the chance to ask." The vendor paled, taken aback by your attitude, and you just smirked. "Something is burning around here, anyway," you added nonchalantly.

it was a passing customer that, overhearing the interaction, interjected, clearly oblivious to your nature. "Oh, that's just the fire show right around the corner of the next street."

The shoddy cinnamon roll fell from your hands as your heart jolted. You didn’t bother picking it up, your legs started to move even before your mind could even catch up, the scent guiding you.

Fire show? You nearly laughed at the coincidence. The human festival had dozens of pretty performances: music, dancing, puppet shows, cooking competitions. But this? You couldn’t miss it for the world. Not after so many years, even if it wouldn’t been the same anymore.

As soon as you approached, your breath caught in your throat. Flames danced above some dancer heads, curling, twisting in the night cool air and casting golden lights over the onlookers.

It felt magical, even if there wasn’t magic in it. Not there. Just some tricks to fool the villagers, especially kids. Just (sleight) of capable hands and well placed oil. Just fire. Raw, bright and untamed.

And it called to you, challenging you to come closer. And you accepted the call instantly. Without even comprehending what you were doing, you stepped forward, drawn to the lingering flames, your fingers just about to reach for them.

"I wouldn't do it, if I were you," a voice, deep and edged with amusement, stopped you cold. You blinked, startled, as you realized how the heat of the flames were close to your skin, the fire licking towards your outstretched hand, ready to burn. "Fire burns hotter when it knows it has an audience," the voice continued, smooth as the smoke surrounding the place. "Especially curious little foxes like you. You wouldn't want to be the ash it leaves in behind."

You retreated your hand, but didn't step back. The heat of the fire wasn't bothering you at all.

"Foxes are curious, but they're also clever," you said, hand still hovered near the fire. "I suppose I should take that as a compliment."

"And perhaps that's exactly what it was," he chuckled.

Not bothering to answer his comment, you brought your attention back to the show, refusing to indulge him further. "Maybe I didn't mind getting burned, and you just ruined my fun."

A growl made you turn, confused rather than scared. The male stood in front of the first line of villagers, several paces away, watching you with open amusement. Yet, no one was close enough to him. It was as if the air around him carried an aura of unspoken warning, a power that unconsciously warned people to stay at by. It was silent, predatory. Even the fire beside you burned hotter, stirred by his presence.

His auburn air caught the firelight, framing the sharp and elegant figures. Russet eyes, keen and knowing. Recognition slammed into you roughly. It was him. The same male who had sneered at you earlier, calling you mortal.

Your lips curled in irritation. "Oh, you're finished complaining about human manners? Or are you here to critique something else? The way I stand, perhaps?" you remarked.

The male smirked, taking an unhurried step toward you while you refused to move. "A mistake on my part," he admitted, his voice like an intentional purr. "You're anything but mortal, are you?" he tilted his head, studying you thoroughly. "And lacking entirely of self preservation, it seems."

"And what would you know about self preservation?"

A shadow flickered across his expression. It was something distant, unreadable and quick. The second later it was gone, replaced by his impassivity. "Everything and nothing."

Your brow lifted. "Wow, how enlightening," you said, turning back to the flames once again. He chuckled lowly, indulgent, in response. You had expected him to lose interest, but instead he moved closer and in a second he was standing so close to you that your arms nearly brushed. A sigh escaped your lips. "Go bother someone else."

He didn't back down. "But I'm enjoying myself," you shot him a glare, but he ignored it. "If you want to see real fire, you should seek someone who really understand its power."

You rolled your eyes, irritation flaring. "This show is made without the advantage of magic. By mortals," you pointed out, mimicking his earlier sneer and gaining just a smirk from his part. "Not everyone can say they could. Not everyone needs magic to wield fire."

"Not everyone is born with it in their veins, but perhaps..." his voice lowered and his eyes flickered with something almost knowing but still unreadable. "Perhaps you're just a little flame waiting to ignite."

You scoffed, but it felt hollow. You faced him, your eyes sharpening, more assessing. Your heart was too loud in your years, too irregular, even for a fae. Something about this male made you think.

And then it all clicked.

He wasn't just some male. His air. His eyes. The sharp angles of his face. He did look familiar. Not because you had met him before the festival, but because you had seen those features before. Not on him. On someone else. Someone closer to you, your only friend. Lucien.

As the puzzle completed inside your head, the gasp that left your throat was unfiltered. Your pulse lost a beat.

Not just some fae, but Eris Vanserra.

Eldest son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court and its legitimate heir to the throne. A male wrapped in a thousand of rumors and stories, none of them kind. Not that you cared, anyway. In your eyes, stories will always be stories, and everyone is capable of making them. Especially someone like the Inner Circle of the Night Court.

Eris expression turned smug, your thoughts given away. "Figured it out, have you?"

You didn't answer directly. "I'm not a little flame. And even if I was, you would never know."

"Oh, I most certainly would."

Before you could respond, a familiar voice called your name. Elain's figure was walking with purpose towards you, a few step ahead from her mate. Lucien's face darkened as soon as he spotted Eris standing too close to you, tension instantly crackling between them.

"Lady Elain," Eris mused. "And my little brother, too."

Lucien's voice was cool. Too cool. "Eris."

"Enjoying yourself?" Eris drawled, his gaze moving to Elain. "About time."

His brother's jaw tensed. "What do you want?"

Eris only chuckled. "I would be careful if I were you, little brother. History has a way of repeating itself."

It wasn't his usual wit taking place. It was a warning.

Lucien stiffened. A silent conversation passed between them, one layered with too much history, too much left unsaid. Then, just as smoothly as he appeared, Eris turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd.

A silent conversation passed between the Vnserras, one that left even Lucien confused. He knew though how Eris acted, he knew his ways. He knew that there was a hidden meaning behind his words not just his past and the pain that caused him. It was something else. Eris gave his back to the three of them without adding more, glancing a last glance at you before disappearing into the crowd.

Elain scoffed sharply. "He isn't subtle at all."

Absolutely not.

Feyre and Rhysand returned right in that moment, their smug expressions telling you their meeting had gone well. Of course. In one way or another, they always got their way. Every fucking time, no matter the situation.

"We're ready to go," said Feyre, satisfied. "Home awaits us."

Home. Velaris never was that for you. And neither had the human lands. Then why you felt the hole in your chest grew bigger? Why was it so hard to not look back? Why you had to push down the strange tug at your heart, the same one that told you to stay?

And, more specifically, why did it felt as if winnowing back to the Night Court was the greatest mistake of all?

A.N: I apologize for the delay and for the length, I will try to make the next shorter (if I can). I was actually feeling very nervous and insecure about posting this, but I hope you liked Eris first appearance and his first interaction with the reader. Let me know if you liked it and your opinion if you would like, it means a lot to me. And thank you if read until here!

Taglist is always open <3

Taglist: @wrenisrad @antisocial-architect @homeslices @fox-in-flowers @thecraziestcrayon @bunnyredgirl @lizzytish82 @lportes-22 @wolfstar-marvelsfan @iowaladynerd @samuelseoswife @abbott976 @marrass @rcarbo1 @the-fandom-ness @selena-24 @sushijimaaa @elisabethch82

[mapiforpresident]

24 with lessi russo please <3

Flirting 101

Alessia Russo x reader

warnings: none

summary: Alessia is terrible at flirting so she resorts to google.

I changed the prompt a little bit, but I hope you like it.

~~~

Alessia had had a crush on you for months, but it especially got bad after she joined Arsenal. You had been playing for Arsenal for five years now, and the club was your home. You had a very flirty personality, and you were really close with Leah and Katie, always trying to see who had the most charm. Although you were a very flirty person, you also didn't believe in one-night stands and only dated people that you saw a real future with, something Alessia admired.

Alessia had been trying to hint to you that she was interested for weeks now, but Alessia's flirting skills were non-existent and awkward. You always knew exactly what to say to make her weak in the knees and speechless, and she usually wasn't able to form a coherent sentence past an awkward hello and wave. She was getting very frustrated with herself and didn't know what to do. She absolutely did not want to ask for help on how to flirt with you or admit she had a crush on you if she didn't know if you felt the same way.

She had no idea that you, in fact, very much did feel the same way but were waiting for her to work up the courage to ask you out. You thought it was incredibly adorable whenever she was an awkward, blushing, clumsy mess around you. You would watch her work up the courage to come over and approach you, but as soon as she was near you, her mind would go blank, and she would blurt out "hi" before usually turning and walking away before you even had the chance to respond.

This was why she decided to resort to good and trusty Google. She lay in bed one night searching for hours for different ways to flirt, even practicing with the stuffed bear you had given her for Secret Santa a month prior. She decided she would try out one of the ways to flirt tomorrow and then a different one the next day and so on.

~~~

The next day at training, Alessia decided to approach you during a hydration break and try out her first method: compliments.

"I really like your boots," Alessia said awkwardly, grinning at you. She had decided last night that this was a good compliment to start with, not too personal but still nice. You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at her compliment.

"Thanks, I like yours too." You pointed to her boots as you said this. Alessia looked to see why you were pointing at her boots to realize that you both were, in fact, wearing the exact same boots, which wasn't that odd considering you were both Adidas athletes. Alessia blushed as soon as she realized this, not thinking about this scenario when she had planned out the conversation in her head. You smiled at her as she was saved by the whistle being blown, calling for the next drill to start.

~~~

Alessia continued with different flirting attempts for the next two weeks, each of them not going the way she hoped, but she didn't fully quit yet because every time she approached you, you smiled brightly at her. She would rather embarrass herself to make you smile than to not have that smile directed at her.

After two weeks, though, you decided to approach Alessia after practice and finally ask her out because her attempts at flirting were getting painful for both parties at this point, and you wanted her to be yours already, knowing Alessia might never actually ask you out by herself.

You entered the locker room and saw the blonde intensely reading something on her phone. You slowly walked over to her, but she didn't sense your presence, so you sat down in the cubby next to hers and glanced over at her, thinking she must have been reading a text. What you didn't expect her to be looking at was an article titled "Flirting 101: Do's and Don'ts When Flirting with Someone."

"Are you googling how to flirt?" you asked with a small laugh. Alessia practically jumped ten feet in the air, startled at being caught. She didn't know what to do. She knew she couldn't deny it because you very clearly saw what she was reading. She was staring at the ground blushing and having an internal debate when you said, "you know, asking the person out on a date might be a good start."

This time she looked up at you.

"What?"

"Ask me out on a date."

"What if you say no."

"I don't think I could say no to you."

"Y/n, will you go on a date with me sometime?"

"I would love that, Alessia. Is this why you have been randomly complimenting me and told me that cheesy pickup line?"

"Maybe," Alessia said as she looked down shyly. She couldn't believe that you actually said yes to her.

"I think that that's adorable. I can't wait for our first date. I have to get going because Katie is my ride and she will not hesitate to leave me behind, but text me the details of the date and I will be there." You told her as she was still looking down, not believing this was actually happening.

"See you tomorrow." You said as you lifted her chin up and left a lingering kiss on her cheek before you stood up to grab your stuff and leave.

"See you tomorrow, y/n," she called after you a second later after she recovered from the unexpected kiss.

"God, that was about the most awkward thing I have ever witnessed, Lessi," Leah said as she appeared from where she had been in her cubby.

"Oh my god, were you in here the whole time?"

"Unfortunately," Leah replied but with a smirk, happy for her friends.

[societyfolklore]

Dangerous Notes – Part 3

Title: Dangerous Notes – Part 3

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Singer!Female Reader

Fic Summary: Reluctantly agreeing to fill in for her sick friend at a prestigious jazz club The Armoury. Thrust into a world of old-world glamour and unknown danger now that the club’s owner, Bucky Barnes, has set his sights on making you a permanent fixture on his stage—and in his life. Chapter Summary: After speaking with Kara, it’s off to rehearsal and Bucky calls in someone to do a little digging.

Word Count:  2.7K

Fic Warnings: // Explicit Content // Mature Themes.18+, Minors DNI,Dark Romance, Slow Burn, Possessive/Obsessive behaviour, Violence, Smut (eventually)  Chapter Warnings:  None…

A/N: Ok, moving forward this fic will be updated on Wed or Thurs.

The next morning arrived with the soft glow of sunlight streaming through your window, casting long shadows across the floor. You stirred slowly, your body feeling heavier than usual as the realization hit you—it was late morning, far later than you ever allowed yourself to sleep in. Normally, you would have been up hours ago, already halfway through your steady Saturday routine of coffee and errands. Last night, though, had been anything but routine. At the time you would typically be winding down, curled up with a book or preparing for bed, you’d been stepping onto The Armory’s stage. The echoes of applause, the sharp gaze of Bucky Barnes fixed on you, and the surrealness of it all came rushing back at once, making your heart flutter with an exhilarating mix of pride and disbelief. The smile that spread across your face was so wide, it made your cheeks ache.

“Holy shit, girl,” you muttered to yourself, rolling onto your back and staring at the ceiling. “You really did it.” A giggle escaped you, light and unrestrained, a sound you couldn’t remember making in years. It felt unfamiliar yet wonderful, as though some long-lost piece of you had resurfaced overnight. Bringing your hands to your face, you pressed your palms against your warm cheeks, trying to convince yourself it hadn’t all been a dream.

With a newfound energy buzzing through you, you threw off the covers and padded across the apartment, nearly skipping to the kitchen. Your stomach’s insistent growl brought you fully back into the present, demanding attention. Tea and toast, you decided—quick, simple, and comforting. The kettle hissed softly as it began to boil, the toaster clicked to life, and you found yourself humming absentmindedly while you waited.

As the tea steeped, you changed out of your pajamas, opting for a comfortable outfit. Returning to the kitchen, you settled at the small table with your plate of toast, a steaming mug of tea, and your ever-present notebook and pen. The moment you sat down, your brain surged into overdrive, flooded with ideas and inspiration. You started jotting down notes for the rehearsal later, tiny tweaks to melodies and lyrics phrasing you wanted to test with the band. It hit you again—you had a rehearsal today. A real, honest-to-goodness rehearsal with professional musicians. The thought made your feet tap an excited rhythm against the floor beneath your chair. When was the last time you had felt this alive, this connected to something you loved? You couldn’t remember, but the feeling was so welcome, you didn’t want it to end.

The sharp buzz of your phone interrupted your reverie. Glancing at the screen, you weren’t surprised to see Kara’s name flashing. Guilt prickled at you as you picked up; you had meant to call her last night but hadn’t managed to—everything had been so overwhelming that you’d crashed almost the moment you walked through the door.

“Kara, I’m so sorry I didn’t call last night,” you said, your words tumbling out. “I was just so exhausted—I barely made it to bed.”

Kara’s voice, raspy with congestion, greeted you warmly. “..figured as much,” she said, a faint laugh escaping before she coughed. “Big night, huh? I didn’t expect you to be awake yet, honestly.”

“It was a lot,” you admitted, glancing down at the notes you’d been writing. “The crowd was great, but, Kara, you didn’t tell me how… intense it would be.”

“It’s The Ah-rmory,” she said, trying to clear her through as she talk “Of course, it’s intense."  You felt a little silly for saying it now, Kara was right, what had you been expecting? "-But you handled it, right?”

“I think so,” you replied, hesitating. “But your boss—Bucky Barnes—he…” You trailed off, unsure how to describe the feeling of being scrutinized by those piercing blue eyes.

“Yeah, he’s… a lot,” Kara said, sounding suddenly sheepish. “But he keeps the place running like clockwork. You don't get any trouble there really. Just don’t take it personally. He’s always like that with new people.”

You frowned, leaning back in your chair. “I thought you said you’d cleared everything with him?”

“Well,” Kara started, her voice faltering slightly, “I sorta did. I cleared it with Pietro. I don’t really like talking to… well, bothering the big boss.”

“Kara!” you said, half-exasperated, half-laughing. “You made it sound like everything was squared away!”

“It is! Pietro knew you were coming, and he’s runs the band! I mean it's not like I could-" Kara started coughing like she was dying. Your own chest crunching up in sympathetic pain. "-Trust me, you’re fine,” she insisted, though the faint hesitance in her voice made you wonder. “Bucky’s just cautious. He’ll warm up once he sees how great you are. Just… stay professional, and it’ll be fine.”

You sighed but didn’t push further. Kara already sounded miserable, and you didn’t want to add to her stress. Plus keeping her on the phone was only making her voice worse.  “All right. Just get some rest, okay? I’ll check in on you later.”

“Thanks,” she said softly, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. “And seriously, don’t worry. You’ve got this. It's not like he's going think your anyone important.”

As you ended the call, her cryptic reassurances lingered in your mind. Even as you prepared for the day ahead, excitement mingled with apprehension, twisting into a knot in your stomach. The events of last night had opened a door you weren’t sure you were ready to walk through, but you knew there was no turning back now.

###### Time seemed to fly, or maybe it was just because you’d slept in. By the time you had even thought about putting on a load of laundry, it was nearly time to leave for the rehearsal at three.

Remembering the doorman’s sharp reminder about staff protocols, you approached The Armory’s side entrance. The alley was dimly lit, lined with discarded crates and the faint scent of stale smoke. You paused when a flicker of movement caught your eye.

Pietro Maximoff stood nearby, leaning casually against the brick wall with a cigarette dangling from his fingers. His silver hair caught the weak light filtering through the alley, and he raised an eyebrow when he spotted you. A grin spread across his face, wide and teasing.

“Well, look who didn’t get scared off!” he exclaimed, flicking ash from his cigarette before taking another drag. He pushed off the wall and crossed the alley to greet you. “I wasn't sure if we should be expecting you, no one would blame you if you'd gone fleeing off into the night.”

You chuckled nervously, shifting the garment bag on your arm. “Not yet. Though I won’t lie, it was tempting.”

Pietro laughed, the sound warm and easy, as he motioned for you to head inside. “Don’t worry, it gets easier. The first night’s always the hardest, but you crushed it. The band was talking about you most of last night." 

“Really?” you asked, surprised. “That’s… nice to hear.”

“Nice?” Pietro smirked, holding the door open for you to enter. “Try rare. These boys don't tend to like the stand ins too much..They'll be glad to know the Big Boss didn't scare you away." 

The mention of Bucky sent a shiver down your spine. “Yeah, about that… Is he always so gggrrr?” You made a gesture with your hands like you were chocking something as you walked through the backstage part of the club. Pietro raised an eyebrow, his smirk softening. “He’s the boss. 'grr' comes with the territory, Songbird. But if he wasn’t impressed, trust me, you’d know. The fact that you’re still here means you’re doing something right.” Pietro flicked his cigarette butt into a nearby ashtray and motioned for you to follow him deeper in. 

The club looked entirely different in the afternoon hours. The usual dim, moody lighting was replaced by the stark brightness of overhead house lights, illuminating every corner of the room. Without the sultry shadows, the cracks in the old wood floors and the slight wear on the velvet seats stood out more clearly. Bar staff moved about, cleaning and setting tables with military precision. The faint smell of disinfectant mingled with the usual aroma of aged whiskey and faint cigar smoke, giving the space a strangely subdued energy.

Pietro stepped around you to head towards the rest of the band, warming up, the sound of brass and guitar stums blending in a low, casual hum. "Boys, This is our new temporary Songbird, while our Kara is out sick." Pietro grinned as he began introducing you to the musicians. you just gave a small wave to the collective.

“Marcus and Rick on brass,” he said, nodding toward two both one tipped his hat to you. “Lewis and Ted—guitarist and bass,” he added, gesturing to two men sharing a quiet joke by the amplifiers. “And Leo on drums.” A wiry man with a quick smile gave you a friendly wave from behind his kit.

You smiled and nodded along, recognizing their names from Kara’s stories. It was strange putting faces to names, but it also felt grounding—like stepping into a world you’d only glimpsed through someone else’s lens.

Just as you were getting your bearings, Yelena strode in from the side, balancing a tray laden with drinks and a small spread of food. “All right, boys, fuel up,” she said, her Russian accent sharp but playful. She set the tray down on a side table and glanced at you, a teasing smile curling her lips. “And don’t worry, Songbird, I’ve got a a lemon tea with just a hit of whiskey ready for you again. It seemed to help last time.” Yelena smiled knowingly while putting the tray down on the small table nearby. 

“Maybe later.” You laughed nervously, waving her off. 

Yelena smirked, giving you a wink before turning back to the musicians. “Don’t break her, boys. We need her voice in one piece.”

The band chuckled, the atmosphere lightening as they began to settle in, tuning instruments and trading easy banter. Pietro caught your attention and motioned for you to join him near the piano. “Come on, Songbird. Let’s get you warmed up before the boys start going full throttle,” he said, patting the bench invitingly.

You slid into the seat next to him, letting the smooth wood of the bench ground you as Pietro began to play a few simple chords. He encouraged you to hum along, gently matching your pitch to his notes.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his playful grin never faltering. His easy confidence kept you from feeling self-conscious, and soon you were running through scales and vocal exercises. With each repetition, your voice grew steadier, your confidence following suit. You found yourself sinking into the warm familiarity of the routine, the tension in your shoulders slowly dissolving.

“Any others you like to do?” Pietro asked, his fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys. “Kara had a whole routine she went through. It’s a little dramatic, but I like dramatic.” He shot you a wink, his grin widening as he caught the way your cheeks flushed pink.

“Maybe,” you replied, laughing softly. Pietro was a flirt, but it was disarming in the best way—his charm putting you more at ease than you expected.

“All right, let’s push it a bit,” he said, shifting into a more complex melody. You followed his lead, your voice slipping into the notes as the music filled the space around you. It wasn’t long before you forgot about the others in the room, the piano and Pietro’s easy energy anchoring you in the moment. 

######

Upstairs in his office, Bucky leaned back in his chair, the faint strains of rehearsal drifting through the floor. His fingers tapped a slow, almost irritated rhythm on the desk, the sound a quiet counterpoint to the melody seeping through the cracks. His sharp blue gaze rested on the map still splayed across the desk, though he wasn’t really seeing it. His thoughts were elsewhere, tangled up in a problem he couldn’t quite grasp. The voice—your voice—echoed in his head, a persistent sound he couldn’t seem to shake. No matter how much he tried to focus on the tasks demanding his attention, the melody of it returned, weaving through his mind with an unsettling persistence.

He let out a low, frustrated sigh, his jaw tightening as he pushed back in his chair. The upcoming expansion, the rival families encroaching on territory, the carefully laid plans that needed his undivided attention—these were the things that should have occupied his thoughts. Yet, every time he tried to center himself, your voice pulled him back. It wasn’t just that it was beautiful, though it undeniably was. It was the way it carried a depth he couldn’t ignore, like there was something underneath it calling to him, demanding his attention even when he didn’t want to give it.

For Bucky, that lack of control—over his focus, his thoughts—was intolerable. The realization only made his frustration flare hotter, a tension settling into his shoulders that refused to ease.

A knock at the door interrupted his spiral. Natasha Romanoff stepped inside, her sharp green eyes scanning the room before settling on him. She moved with her usual practiced precision, her every step calculated, and though Bucky’s tension didn’t ease entirely, her presence added a sense of grounding he appreciated.

“You called?” she asked, her tone cool and professional, though a flicker of curiosity danced in her gaze.

Bucky nodded, gesturing for her to sit. “I need you to look into someone,” he said, his voice low but firm, the edges of his words sharper than usual.

“The new singer?” Natasha arched an eyebrow, her expression flickering between amusement and intrigue. When Bucky didn’t respond immediately, her lips curled into a knowing smirk. “She already got under your skin?”

Bucky’s glare was sharp, though Natasha only shrugged it off. “Yelena might have mentioned earlier that you’d probably be calling,” she added lightly, crossing one leg over the other as she settled into the chair opposite him.

“Your sister needs to mind her damn business,” Bucky growled, his voice low and tinged with annoyance. 

Natasha’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “Not likely. So, what is it about the new girl that has you so... preoccupied?”

“She’s too-” Bucky started to talk but couldn't quiet make up his mind what about you exactly bothered him, if it was just timing and his own paranoid or what his instinct for sniffing out threats before they arouse telling him something was wrong. “-Kara vouched for her, but I want to know more. What kind of teacher agrees to work in a place like this? It doesn’t add up.”

Natasha leaned back, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “You think she’s a plant?”

“I don’t think anything yet,” Bucky said, his tone edged with caution. “But I’m not taking chances. Not with everything happening right now.”

Natasha nodded slowly, already pulling out her phone and tapping at the screen. “I’ll dig. Shouldn’t take long,” she said, her tone measured.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Natasha’s gaze lingered on him, studying his expression with the practiced skill of someone who had spent years reading people.

“It’s not like you to let a stranger get to you,” she remarked lightly, though there was no judgment in her voice. “This one must really be something.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, and he didn’t respond, his eyes shifting back to the map on his desk. “Just let me know what you find,” he said finally, dismissing the comment with a wave of his hand.

As Natasha stood and left the room, Bucky’s attention shifted back to the faint melody drifting through the floorboards. It gnawed at him, an unrelenting presence that refused to fade. It wasn’t just the technical skill—though that was undeniable—but the way it seemed to carry an unspoken story, a vulnerability wrapped in strength. It left him restless, frustrated, and increasingly determined. Whatever it was about you, he needed to figure it out. And soon. But for right now he couldn't stay in his own damn building if your voice was going to make it too hard to think. Hitting a button on the phone on his desk Bucky rubbed his forehead.  "Someone bring the car around. I need to go for a drive." 

[lyrinsluv]

9:28pm

timeskip! kenma x reader

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

wordcount: 671! :D 

being the partner of a streamer — kenma kozume — was amazing, but it also had its downfalls. i mean, it’s not in every relationship where both parties respect the fact that one doesn’t have enough time for the other. kenma was always streaming, always sitting in his office on phone calls and with him being the head of a huge company, it didn’t help you at all. you missed your boyfriend. you enjoyed the soft whispers and praises you gave him as he fell asleep on you. that was the only time you two had together: the ten minutes you both cherished before you both dozed off. 

you walk into your shared home, dropping your work bag in the front as you slip off your shoes. you wanted to tell kenma something. as you were heading back from work, you remembered a little something your coworker told you. she was giddy about some firework show that was happening in her local park. it was nice that you two lived a couple minutes away from each other. she didn’t convince you fully. you wanted to go with kenma. you truly did. 

you don’t announce that you’re home by the worry that he’s streaming or in a meeting. you knock on his door, and you smile at the soft ‘come in’ he says. you practically jump as you walk in, but you contain yourself.

“ken, can i ask you something?” you ask as you lean on his desk, your smile still eminent on your face. he gives you a nod, his gaze looking up at you from his screen.

“can.. we go somewhere? in thirty minutes? it’ll.. um, it’ll be a surprise. you can wear whatever.” you say in a hopeful tone. you missed your boyfriend. you missed the little dates you had when he first started university. you look into his eyes with a somewhat longing gaze, hoping that he’d agree. 

and he did. 

“mm.. okay, i’m free tonight anyways.” he said in a somewhat soft manner. the joy that spread across your face spoke volumes for him. 

it was 9:28pm, and now you two were sitting on some damp grass with a blanket over the two of you. you lean your head on his shoulder. it felt so.. warm. you knew he hated displaying affection in public sometimes, but he let it go for you.

“i still don’t know what we’re doing, y’know..” he murmured quietly as he looked at you. the adoring look in his eyes made your stomach twist into knots. 

“you’ll see.” you whispered as the clock hit nine-thirty. and that was when the first firework started up. you didn’t even tell your coworker that you were there. the quiet chuckle he let out made you smile. you gave him a peck on his neck and you let out a soft sigh. 

“what? i know it’s corny, but i haven’t seen you in a while. this is the closest thing we’ll get to a date.” you mumble back as you snuggle into him. 

he let out another quiet chuckle and he didn’t respond. it felt odd at most, but when you saw his gaze, everything changed. he looked up at each firework like it was a work of art; his eyes lighting up at every pop and glimmer he sees. you couldn’t help but stare at him. 

your boyfriend looked beautiful. 

“thank you.” he whispered as his gaze turned to yours, the two of you practically staring at each other now. you smile and you turn your body to sit up straight at him. 

“yeah, baby. any time. i love you.” you say softly. you knew the night ended well because the ten minutes together that you usually spent before bed lasted an hour. it was a somewhat lazy night, but you both enjoyed it dearly. 

you knew the night was basically perfect because of his eyes. his gaze was still so bright and affectionate even after the show.

[funniestpersonalivefr]

First of all YOU ARE AMAZING i could neverr write like this ,my brain simply can't function when it comes to these stuff, second of all i was fighting the urge to ask you for another older leon x fem reader smut/fluff because i felt like im just gonna be annoying but since i failed to stop myself here it is: "imagine leon has this coworker who he worked with during the alcatraz island incident and managed to develop a crush on her, so after days or weeks of tiptoeing around and aimlessly flirting he finally brings himslef to ask her out and one thing leads to another and BOOM! they have sex" IM SORRY IF THIS SOUNDS CORNY AND CHEESY YOU CAN TOTALLY IGNORE THIS IF YOU WANT SO ANYWAY LOVE YOU BYE

sweetheart

RAHHH IM GLAD YOU LIKE MY STUFF. anyways here's the leon request mwahahaha. nsfw under the cut, mdni. credit to image owner. not proofread and i hope you enjoy, love ya!!

your time at alcatraz was nothing but stressful. you ran around with leon and the others fighting a giant b.o.w. and you were so relieved when everything was over.

the following days you and leon spent the days swamped in paperwork. leon had been especially flirty lately, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't admitting the extra attention gave your butterflies in your stomach like a teenager in love.

how could you not fall for the charming man? he was kind and incredibly attractive but you'd never guess he would feel the same about you. yet there you were, walking into the parking lot with leon as you approached your respected vehicles. the words left his lips seemed to slip out so effortlessly and you felt your heart catch in your throat.

"you outta let me take you out to dinner tomorrow night, if you're free," he says, his low tone brought a warmness into your chest. you look back at him, he's idly standing next to his motorcycle.

"yeah, that sounds great. i'd like that," you say, your tone is soft and shy as you look away. a smile is spread across your lips and leon mirrors with his own face.

your date with leon went extremely well, a nice dinner followed by a motorcycle ride. he was all over you the moment you two had gotten back to your apartment and you were not complaining.

his lips were on your neck as he slammed you into various walls around the house, a trail of clothes following you. usually leon would try to be more of a gentleman but he was completely and utterly obsessed with you.

his crush on you had always been there but something about the alcatraz mission changed it. maybe it was the way you protected all of those around you but his heart fully belonged to you.

your back hits the soft bed, both of you have been stripped down to undergarments and nothing more. his rough calloused hands feel up and down your body, grabbing your boobs. his lips are against yours as your hands tangle in his hair.

leon's bulge presses perfectly between your legs as the two of you grind on each other with desire and need. his touch was gentle as he removed the bra separating him from your tits. your bra was quickly thrown off to the floor, leon's mouth quickly finding its way to your quickly hardening nipple.

his mouth helps to stimulate the bud, letting pleasure rush down your body. you can't help the way your hips buck into his, a groan slips leon's lips and you know you need him inside you right now.

your hands are soon fumbling with his belt, leon catches your wrists stopping you.

"what do you think you're doing sweetheart?" he asks, you whimper out slightly.

"i need you leon, i need you inside me," you say, pleading with him to give you what you want. he can't help but give in to you with the way your glossy eyes look up at him and your beautiful face flushed.

leon lets go of your wrists and you're quick to continue your actions. his clothes join yours and it's not long before he's slipping his fingers in you, stretching you to make sure you can take his cock. you whine out, desperate for his length and leon coos at you.

"be patient now, can't have yourself getting hurt," he says, his tone dripping with sweetness. his fingers start doing a scissor motion and you can't help but moan from his touch.

soon enough your needy cunt is stretched just enough for leon. you can feel him rub his tip through your soaking folds. you prop yourself up and watch as he starts to slide into you, it almost looks like he's disappearing into your pussy.

his movement is slow as he lets you adjust, waiting for you to signal you're ready for more. this signal comes with a roll of your hips. leon starts to thrust into you deeply, his long cock kissing your cervix perfectly.

he continues to plow into you, not sure how long he can last with how deliciously your cunt clenches around him. you're a whiny and moaning mess from how well he's fucking you, and you can feel that familiar pressure building up in your stomach.

leon presses his calloused fingers down to your clit, rubbing it slightly to help push you over the edge. you shudder under his touch as your orgasm approaches, your body shaking as it does. leon's soon spilling his cum into your cunt from the sensation of your squeezing around him.

he's cursing into your ear as his hips sputter, soon pulling out.

"fuck, i didn't mean to-" he says, referring to the cum he just dumped into you. you silence him with a kiss before pulling away.

"i'm on the pill it's fine, plus it was um... it was hot," you admit, looking down. a chuckle leaves his lips as he reaches to your chin, tilting your head to look at him.

"i guess i'll have to do it more, huh sweetheart?" he teases and your face flushes as you roll your eyes. the two of you are completely smitten with each other.

[herweirdass]

waves of change | ph

smut warning!

Pope Heyward stood at the edge of the dock, staring out at the horizon. Life had been complicated lately. The treasure hunt, his friends, everything seemed to pull him in different directions. Today, though, he was taking a break. As much as he loved his friends, being around them all the time made it hard to think clearly. That’s when he noticed her—a girl standing by the beach house, leaning against a railing, her eyes locked onto his.

She was unmistakably a Kook. Her effortless style, from her perfectly tousled hair to the designer clothes, gave her away. Yet, something about her caught his attention. She didn’t look like the judgmental, elite types Pope had grown to dislike. She had an air of confidence and mystery, and he couldn't shake the feeling she was watching him, too.

Eventually, their paths crossed when she approached him at the docks.

“Hey, you’re Pope, right?” Her voice was smooth, almost teasing.

Pope raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. And you are?”

“Y/N,” she replied, with a half-smile. “I’ve seen you around with the Pogues.”

Pope nodded, unsure of where this was going. Kooks didn’t usually mix with Pogues unless they had an ulterior motive.

“I’m not like the others,” she said, as if reading his mind. “Trust me.”

Curiosity got the better of him. “Okay, so what’s your deal?”

She shrugged, her eyes sparkling with something he couldn’t quite place. “Let’s just say... I’ve been through my share of experiences.”

Pope wasn’t naïve, but he couldn’t help the nervous flutter in his stomach. He had never been the most confident when it came to relationships or even flirting. But there was something about Y/N that drew him in.

Over the next few days, they started hanging out more. What began as chance encounters turned into secretive walks on the beach, late-night talks under the stars, and deep conversations where Y/N revealed more about herself. She was different from the typical Kook girls he had met. She didn’t care about appearances or money. She was unapologetically herself—bold, confident, and open about her desires.

One evening, as they sat on the sand watching the waves, Y/N turned to him. “You’re holding back.”

Pope’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”

She leaned in closer, her gaze piercing. “You’re smart, Pope. You’re ambitious, and you’ve got this intensity about you. But you’re holding something back... with me.”

He swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. “I’m just... not as experienced as you, I guess.”

Y/N smiled softly, surprising him with her gentleness. “It’s not about experience. It’s about connection. You and I... we’re different, but we understand each other.”

Pope felt the tension between them grow. The weight of everything he’d been through—the danger, the treasure, his friends—all seemed to fade away in that moment. It was just him and her. She moved closer, her lips brushing against his. His breath caught in his throat, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he kissed her back, letting go of his insecurities and doubts.

The air between them was charged, the unspoken tension building with every glance and lingering touch. Y/N smirked, looking at him with those teasing eyes of hers.

“You don’t have to be afraid with me. I promise,” she said, voice low, her fingers lightly tracing his arm.

Pope swallowed, heart racing. The desire to keep things simple was at war with the new sensations she awakened in him. He felt a surge of boldness, something he’d never been able to express fully until now, around her.

“How about we take this back to my place?” Pope said, surprising even himself with the words.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her smirk deepening. “Pope Heyward, are you trying to be smooth?”

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly, but there was confidence in his voice now. “Maybe. Is it working?”

She bit her lip, eyes darkening with intrigue. “Definitely.”

Without another word, she stood up, holding out her hand. Pope took it, the warmth between their palms sparking something undeniable.

As they arrived at Pope's place, the atmosphere shifted. The walls, adorned with remnants of his childhood, felt both familiar and foreign. Y/N took a moment to soak it all in before turning her full attention to Pope. He stood a bit awkwardly, his hands shoved in his pockets, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

“Relax,” she encouraged, stepping closer. “We can just talk for now, see where things go.”

They settled onto the couch, the cushions sinking comfortably beneath them. With each laugh and shared moment, the tension began to fade.

“Okay, so, what do you want to know?” she finally asked, tilting her head slightly, a playful glint in her eyes.

Pope swallowed hard, his mind racing. “Well… I guess, um, how do I…?” He hesitated, feeling a mix of vulnerability and eagerness.

“Just be honest with me,” Y/N replied softly. “What are you curious about?”

He took a breath, finally voicing it. “I want to know how to… well, you know. I’ve only ever did it once.”

Y/N smiled knowingly, “You mean, how to be intimate?” She leaned forward, creating a safe space for him. “It’s about connection, not just the act itself. Let’s go at your pace, okay?”

A wave of relief washed over Pope. “Okay.”

With that, Y/N took his hand, guiding him to sit closer. “It’s all about feeling comfortable. Start by exploring—what do you like? What makes you feel good?”

Pope nodded slowly, his heart racing. Y/N gently placed her hand on his chest, encouraging him to breathe deeply. “Just focus on the moment. Let go of any expectations,” she whispered, her voice steady and soothing.

As they moved closer, Y/N began to guide his hands, teaching him the power of touch. She showed him how to caress her arm, how to find the right pressure, the right rhythm. With each tentative move, Pope felt the warmth of her skin under his fingertips, the thrill of discovery igniting his senses.

“See? You’re doing great,” she said softly, her encouragement wrapping around him like a blanket.

Pope found himself lost in the moment, gradually shedding his nerves. He had previously learned to read her reactions, the way she leaned into his touch, the soft sighs that escaped her lips. With every passing moment, he grew more confident, more attuned to Y/N’s desires as she guided him with gentle prompts.

“Now, let’s try something else. We’re going to find out what you like,” she suggested, her voice low and inviting.

She started with light kisses on his neck and began trailing them up his jawline, then finally his lips. The kiss was soft and gentle sending shivers down Pope’s body. He brushed his thumb across her cheek deepening the kiss between them both. Y/N removed his shirt as he pulled her into his lap with a tight possessive grip.

He started by kissing her neck and then moved down to her chest, his hands roaming everywhere. The warmth spread downward and rested between her thighs, intensifying and igniting through her minimal clothing.

Overcome by desire, she instinctively arched towards him, craving more. He then stripped away their remaining clothes and told her to lie flat on the bed. A smirk crept onto Pope's face as his gaze swept over her body, his eyes darkening with lust.

“Tell me you’re all mine,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with desire, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. In that fragile space between words and feelings, she felt the weight of his gaze, a mixture of longing that enveloped them both.

“I’m all yours baby,” she finally breathed, her voice barely above a whisper as she lay there, naked and extremely wet for him.

He captured her lips once more, his hand gliding down her body savoring every moment. He placed his palm exactly where she desired him. Y/N bucked, moving against him as soft moans escaped her lips. A soft smile played on his lips as he watched her squirm under his touch.

Pope dominated the space above her, aligning his thick length with her eager entrance. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he thrust inside, prompting both of them to gasp at the intensity of the moment. After pausing briefly to adjust, he began to move his hips, allowing y/n to experience all of him. He pulsed within her as she tightened around him. They soon settled into a deep, pleasurable rhythm together. The room echoed with the sound of their bodies connecting as they murmured sweet nothings to one another.

“You’re doing great baby,” she encouraged. “Just like that.”

Pope drove into her more harder and rapidly, they both felt a growing, intense pleasure that was impossible to ignore.

“Pope,” she gasped his name, twisting, riding it out until her climax hits and every part of her explodes with pleasure as she shivers in his arms.

“Y/n, I—” Pope barely completed his thought before she tightened around him, aiming to both tease and assist him. He soon followed, gasping for breath as they both experienced their own climaxes.

Hours slipped by, the world outside fading into a distant hum. By the time they finally paused, both breathless and exhilarated, Pope felt like he’d stepped into a new world. Y/N had opened a door for him, one he hadn’t known existed.

“See? You had it in you all along,” she smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You just needed a little guidance.”

Pope grinned, a mix of pride and relief flooding through him. “Thanks for being patient with me,” he said, feeling a sense of fulfillment he hadn’t anticipated.

“Always,” Y/N replied, her eyes sparkling.

From that night on, things between Pope and Y/N changed. They found a balance between the wild, physical attraction and the deeper connection they had built. Y/N showed him how to embrace his desires, but she also taught him that it was okay to take things slow and steady. They didn’t need to rush. They had time.

Despite their differences—their backgrounds, their experiences—they found common ground in each other. Pope’s heart, always loyal to his friends and family, made room for something new. Y/N, with all her complexities, was the challenge he never knew he needed.

And as the summer nights rolled on, they both realized that sometimes, the best connections come from the most unexpected places.

[tastelikezweig]

FOR YOU, I WAS A FLAME

paring(s): patrick zweig x reader

if anything doesn’t seem logical, please ignore it. i did not edit this lol.

patrick and your relationship was a tale of two worlds. behind closed doors, patrick treated you with a reverence that bordered on adoration. in the sanctuary of your dorm, he held you delicately, kissed away your worries, and whispered promises that melted your heart. your nights were filled with intimate conversations and tender embraces, where the outside world faded into insignificance.

however, outside this private cocoon, patrick struggled. in public, his demeanor toward you shifted noticeably. during a casual lunch with art and tashi in the dining hall, you noticed patrick's distant behavior immediately. instead of the usual affectionate glances and hand-holding, patrick seemed aloof and detached. you tried to reach out, he recoiled, snatching his hand away with a sharpness that stung.

concerned and hurt, you couldn't ignore the stark contrast between patrick's public and private personas any longer. "patrick, is everything okay?" your voice wavered, eyes searching his face for a glimpse of the warmth you knew so well.

patrick's response was defensive, his discomfort palpable. "can we not do this here?" his words came out sharper than intended, drawing puzzled looks from your shared friends.

tashi's sharp intuition didn't miss the tension. "seriously, why are you being such an ass?" she muttered under her breath, shooting a sympathetic glance at you.

the tension at the table thickened as you excused yourself, your heart heavy with disappointment and confusion. patrick hesitated, torn between chasing after you and retreating into his own thoughts. his mind raced with apologies and explanations he couldn't voice, trapped by a fear he couldn't name.

patrick finally stood up to go after you. fortunately for him, you hadn’t gotten very far. jogging up behind you, he gripped at your fingers.

you gently pulled your hand from patrick's grasp, the hurt in your eyes barely concealed.

you locked eyes for a fleeting moment before words found their way between them.

“you have to choose: either you're fully with me, or we're done.” you said, your voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. wasting no time.

patrick swallowed hard, his gaze shifting from your face to the ground. he had recoiled from your touch moments ago in front of their friends, but now, alone with you, he felt the weight of your words pressing on him.

"don't do this to me," he pleaded softly, his voice betraying the turmoil inside him.

you remained silent, your eyes locked onto his, searching for the truth you needed to hear. time stretched between them, each second feeling like an eternity as you both stood on the precipice of a decision neither wanted to make.

"you have five seconds," you finally said, your voice tight with emotion.

patrick's heart pounded in his chest. he knew he had pushed you to this point with his indecision, his fear of commitment. now, faced with losing you, he had to decide.

a tear escaped your eye, a silent testament to the pain you were trying so hard to contain. you scoffed softly, nodding your head almost imperceptibly as you fought to keep your composure.

"okay," you said quietly, your voice breaking slightly as you turned away and walked back to your dorm room.

patrick watched you leave, a wave of regret crashing over him. he wanted to chase after you, to pull you into his arms and beg for forgiveness. but he remained rooted to the spot, grappling with his own fears and insecurities that had driven them to this moment.

days turned into weeks, and the silence between them deepened. patrick immersed himself in tennis and other distractions, trying to bury the ache in his chest. meanwhile, you leaned on tashi for support, trying to make sense of patrick's abrupt change.

months passed, and patrick heard occasional updates about you through art. regret gnawing at him, a constant reminder of what he had let slip away. he couldn't shake the memory of your trusting gaze, the weight of your ultimatum hanging in between.

your love story remained unfinished—a testament to the complexities of love and the wounds left by unspoken fears. patrick carried the lesson with him, hoping one day he would find the courage to confront his fears and love without reservations or regrets.

[virq-qgo]

Arthur Morgan x reader

Hey hun, I hope this was good enough for you! I am so excited that I am your first ask, haha!! I am unfortunately not that good at writing angst, and I’m a little rough with writing right now since it’s been a little while.. I also just actually started the game so I know nothing about Mary Linton, or the whole game play in this area. So I am so sorry if this is completely wrong and messed up!!

Warnings: mentions of cheating but no cheating actually happened, angst, my writing, angst to fluff, Arthur is probably very OOC.. my writing once again, not proofread

Mary Linton. The most prettiest girl in town, the woman that every man wanted, but could never get.

No man could keep his eyes, hands, lips off her.

And you were stupid to think that Arthur would be smart enough to know better. But that night, when you were returning back from a trip that Dutch had set you on. You saw Arthur and Mary Linton together at the bar. His hand on the small of her back and her hands pressed against his chest.

Every man in that bar hated Arthur, for he was the only man that got to look at her, who got to touch her.

The look of love shone in Mary’s eyes as she look at Arthur. But could you blame her? Despite Arthur saying he’s a bad man, he was a good one. He made sure every woman was safe. That anyone was safe.

That’s why you fell in love with him.

Unfortunately, as soon as you tried to leave the scene. Your lover quickly spotted you. He had a smile on his face as he wave you down to come join them. But his smile quickly dropped when he saw your frown and your eagerness to leave.

Tears popped in your eyes as you turned around and left the bar. Millions of thought rushed through your head while you walked home. Were you not pretty enough? Maybe it’s because you weren’t smart. Or perhaps it was because you were running away from the law. Not understanding what could’ve made Arthur change his mind really hurt.

The amount of times where he lied with you in the grass, his arms around your body. Telling you what he was gonna do with you in the future. The amount of kids he wanted with you. What time of farm house you’d live in. And what type of animals you should have.

A hand touching your shoulder broke you from your turn of thought. You twisted your head to see the one and only Arthur with a displeased look on his face.

“Why did you leave?” He asked, his scruffy voice was softer than usual.

Quiet for a few moments, you decide to speak. “I had no business there.”

“Bullshit, you look like you’ve been cryin’” Arthur had now fully turned you around. With his hand on your body. He inspected your face, he knew you had been crying. Arthur was so good at reading you, you hated it.

“Are you just gonna leave a lady all alone in a bar full of drunk men?” The question came out saltier sounding than you intended.

“What does this have to do with her?” Arthur asked, crossing his arms as he fully inspected you.

A sigh escaped your lips and you felt a new set of tears wash in. “What’s so special about her Arthur? What does she have that I don’t? If it’s my looks, I can change them. Or maybe it’s because I’m an outlaw, and you want a normal girl. So I can turn myself in for you. I just want to be good enough for you.”

“Whoa, hey now.” Arthur pulled you in closely to him. His hands gripping your waist as he held you the way you liked to be. “What’s all up in that head, pretty girl? Why’er talkin like that?”

But when you didn’t respond, he frowned.

“C‘mom baby girl,” he spoke softly while his thumb came up to wipe the tear that was rolling down your cheek. “If you’re upset about Mary and I in the bar. Then you truly don’t have to worry. Some guy was just messin’ with her.”

Your heart hurt, you were too insecure to notice the situation before. Of course, he was just doing his part and helping. Arthur truly loved you, you were his woman. And nothing would ever change that.

Tears continued to flow out of your pretty eyes, cashing Arthur to pull you in for a hug. One arm resting around your waist as for the other, he was playing with your hair. Hoping to get you distracted.

“I’m so sorry Arthur, I-“ you stuttered over yourself. You couldn’t find the words to say anything.

Except Arthur always knew what to do, he knew you like the back of his own hand. His hands cradle your beautiful face as blue eyes look into yours. Oh how he wanted to marry you right then and there. You were absolutely so beautiful to him, to know how much love you had in your heart for him. He loved it. He was so in love with you.

“I don’t think you understand, just how much I love you.” His thumb brushes away your tears as he softly talks to you. “I am so in love you, girl. It drives me absolutely nuts. Mary Linton can’t even compare to you. You are my woman, hell. You’re gonna be my wife. You don’t gotta change your looks, cause I love waking up every day and seeing your face and kissing those lips. I love how your body fits just right in my hands.”

“Arthur,” You try to call out, but he immediately hushes you.

“You don’t get to talk until you understand that you are my woman. That I don’t want no other, just you, alright?”

You nod your head with a soft smile on your lips. You bury your head in his chest, your heart feeling a little warmer and he continues to tell you just how much he loved you.

[umathurwin]

your riara fic has me thinking about riara cheating trope but kiara is on the phone with her bf trying not to moan and scream while rafe is eating her out……

i’m sorry but little blondie has to be cucked

(rafe x kiara; nsfw/mild dubcon under the cut)

running up the spiral stairs in the cameron manor was so much more fun when kie knew she wasn’t supposed to be there. 

coming to hang out here used to be a whole production. she’d change her location settings to track her old ipad, which she’d stuff under her bed before sneaking out the side door. she had candid photos of her friend with edited metadata to look like she’d taken them that night in case she had to verify her whereabouts. 

nowadays? too much fucking work. she’d text her boyfriend a i’m going to sarah’s tonight and simply not check her messages again until she was home in her own bed again. usually at 3, 4 in the morning. 

kiara went into rafe’s room and sat cross legged on his bed—he’d be following shortly after grabbing some waters. she considered taking her top off, but he flamed her for being too eager last time and edged her for hours. 

when he finally joined her, she noticed the white phone in his hand— rafe’s was black. she must’ve left hers downstairs, and he was intently focused on the display before turning it to her. 

jj’s face illuminated the screen. if she ever took her phone off silent, it would be ringing at her too, but the room was quiet. “fuck, sorry. i forgot to put it on do not disturb—”

“answer it.”

he extended the phone out to her, but she didn’t move. “i—what? no, i’m not gonna answer it. you know he thinks i’m with sarah!”

“fine. i’ll answer it.” rafe pulled the device back out of her reach and slid his thumb across the screen, connecting the call.

kiara’s hand shot out and snatched it from him, putting the phone to her ear. “hey, babe…”

it was painful. she’d never felt so awkward talking to jj, and it was difficult to leave the casual conversation without giving a reason as to why she couldn’t chat. rafe just smiled and tugged his shirt off from the back of his neck. 

undressing was a bad sign. the countdown timer has begun. 

“so, you having fun with sarah?” the voice on the phone asked, and rafe sank one of his knees into the bed. 

“yeah!” she chirped with panicked, wide eyes, begging rafe to just wait. “she says hello, but she’s peeing right now and can’t talk.”

“gross. her birthday is coming up, right?”

rafe pushed kiara back onto his pillows. keep talking, he mouthed. fuck. 

jj went on about the local places they could celebrate as rafe unbuttoned her shorts and tugged them down her legs. she shook her head a little, trying to make him understand this wasn’t the right time. like he didn’t already know. 

with her tank top pushed up, her panties tangled around one of her ankles, and her boyfriend chatting away on the other end, rafe mashed his entire face between her legs. his tongue dragged across her clit, and he’d be making some obscene noises if his mouth wasn’t fully attached to her pussy. 

“oh my god!” kie cried out, and she felt rafe smile into her cunt. “that restaurant is so good. wasn’t that the place you got half the staff to walk out with you last year? h-how did that happen again?”

“hell yeah! the manager was this total bonehead, right…?” jj trailed off into his story, and she knew he hadn’t been taking his ritalin. she bought herself a few minutes, easily. 

kiara put her phone on mute and set her phone to the side, then threaded her fingers through his hair. she lifted her hips and used his tongue to chase more friction. with her boyfriend unable to hear her, she moaned and whimpered when rafe pulled away. 

“really? you couldn’t even try to keep quiet?” rafe chided, sliding his fingers messily over her swollen cunt. “quitter.”

“shut the fuck up and— oh, fuck!” he dropped his head down and pulled her clit into his mouth. his suckling, her slick on his lips, it was so loud and nasty and it pushed her over the edge easily. 

rafe held her still as she came on his face, and in a brief moment in between her cries and pleas for more, they could both hear jj rattling on, his voice distant and tinny. 

she caught her breath— or at least tried to— and grabbed her phone again to unmute the call. “oh my gosh, babe, i’m sorry but my mom is calling me right now. call you later?”

“oh! yeah, of course. bye, ki—”

kie threw the phone across the room as soon as she heard the hang-up tone. she’d be angrier if she could form a single coherent thought. rafe smirked— maybe his plan will work next time