#HOW COME YOU’RE THE BEST TO ME!?????? I KNOW YOU’RE THE WORST FOR ME????

[hufflezki]

“I like me better” — after escaping lex luthor's pocket universe, you take an injured superman back to his childhood home, hoping to help him get back on his feet. but when he wakes up the next morning, there's only one presence that he longs for, and its yours.

-> clark kent x gn!reader, childhood friends turned lovers ( we all saw it coming, let's not lie. ), established relationship ( they are a couple yes, yes ), hurt/comfort, then fluff, clark is having some identity crisis, also him overthinking, reader being his anchor, reader used to live in smallville, reader knows that clark is superman, some grammatical errors ( but I proofread dw! ), word count: 1,281

[ 📀༉‧₊˚. ] — i like me better by lauv

Everything felt like too much.

Clark’s whole body, taken over by the Kryptonite poison, collapsed when he met the soft mattress of his old bed. He could smell the familiar scent of wood, old and nostalgic. Taking him back to when he was still a young boy living with his parents. When life was just about helping on the farm, and looking forward to his Ma’s home-cooked meals. But Clark’s mind was clouded, unable to indulge in those old memories. As the reality remained heavy on his shoulders, embedded in his mind.

“I was sent here to rule over..” He uttered, breathless, as you helped him settle down. His Ma responded to him, staring at her son with a worried and panicked gaze. Clark was sweating all over, his body desperate to cool him down. “They sent me here to kill people..” He continued, until his exhaustion finally caught up to him and he fell into slumber. You stood back, watching by the side as his parents huddled over him, and giving them time to let everything sink in. You’ve told them what happened, that was the first thing you did when you arrived, in your own frantic way. His Pa seemed to understand it all despite your words stumbling here and there.

You were on edge, just as they were.

Sleep was a lot kinder to Clark.

It was silent, comforting, but a little unworldly. He was in his body, well and all, like the prior events didn't just happen. He saw the farm in front of him, a vast horizon of greenery. Another familiar sight. Clark didn’t feel any pain, and he didn’t wince when a sharp and cold breeze passed by. Instead, he felt something else in his chest. Almost like tranquility. Then came your voice, the lovely sound making him turn. You step outside, holding a cup of hot chocolate. He could smell its sweetness, although faint. As you hand him his cup, he watches you sit down next to him, his eyes tracing your features.

He was in heaven. He must be.

But the thought quickly leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, washing it down as he takes a sip of his hot chocolate, which tasted exactly like how you make it. Sweet. If this was heaven, then that would mean that you were just a figment of his own mind. Conjuring up his best memories, taunting him with the doom that he might not make new ones with you. But he shook it off. This was just him getting in his own mind again.

This was a dream. A nice one. A beautiful one.

When he wakes up he’d see you again. That face who’s been with him since he was just a boy. You who’d seen him in his worst days, loved him even when he felt like an outcast to the world, and showed him that he was still as human as everyone else. Because he was authentically himself.

“You look like you have a lot in your mind, Clark.” He felt your hands brush against his dark curls from behind, the feeling akin to when he finally lays down after a long and hard day.

“I do. But I’ll tell you everything later.” He responds, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles, softly.

“Alright, then I’ll be waiting.”

“You always do.”

Krypto’s laying down on Clark’s chest, his ears perk up when he notices the first few signs of his eyes blinking open. You’re sitting on the chair by his desk, looking around his old room and waiting for him to wake up. You don't exactly know how long it’s been, but you’ve been unable to sleep since Clark did. Now, the sun has risen, you’ve opened the curtains just a bit wider to let the light in. And suddenly Krypto, who’s been quiet and still laying on his chest, shoots up and starts licking Clark’s face.

Your heart skips a beat. It’s just like that night when he first snuck into your room, back when you were teens, all wounded after a fight. But instead of heading straight home and getting patched up by his Ma, Clark headed straight to you.

He says your name, groggy from hours of sleep. It snaps you back into reality. And you approach him, carefully, as if he’d disappear if you didn't. The mattress dips as you sit down beside him, Krypto rushed out of the room, probably to fetch Clark’s parents—or to at least catch their attention. But right now, all he wanted to see was you.

“I had a dream.” His lips stretch into a small smile, as his hand finds yours down on the bed. You squeeze it, pulling it up to your lips to kiss. “Yeah? Wanna tell me about it?” You sound like you’re trying to keep yourself from being emotional and Clark notices. He responds by giving your hand a firm squeeze back. “You were there. You made me hot chocolate.” It sounds silly now that he’s saying it out loud, but the way your face softens—like you’re just happy that he’s talking to you again, makes Clark’s heart ache.

You really did love him. And he loves you too. It’s too much, but in a way where it spills out of his chest and makes him feel warm and embraced. In a way where he’s not afraid to be vulnerable with you. Because he knows you care deeply about him. In a way where he wants to do good despite being in a world that takes advantage of it. Because you’ve been nothing but kind to him, even before he was the Superman that everyone knows and loves.

And, maybe, this was the whole point.

Clark groans as he lifts himself up on his elbows, trying to sit. And you quickly help him up. “Sounds like you had a nice dream.” You quip, trying to keep it light-hearted. It works, though, as Clark gives you a grin. “Its always nice when you’re in it.” He flirts and you’re taken aback that the only reaction you can give is to roll your eyes. “Okay, Mr. Smooth Talker.” He chuckles. But then he reaches for your face, thumb brushing across your cheek. You lean into his palm, melting under his gaze.

“I realized some things before we arrived here..” You hum, cupping the back of his hand with yours.

“My parents—my biological ones—had a different motive for me..” You watch his eyes flicker down, before back at you, processing his emotions.

“I don't know.. It’s a hard pill to swallow. I mean, all my life I’ve watched that over and over again, thinking that this is exactly what they wanted for me. I just..” He sighs, you remove his hand from your face and intertwine it with yours once again.

“Listen, Clark. Whatever your parents wanted for you, has nothing to do with who you are now. This is who you chose to be. And I think that’s what matters the most.” Your words are earnest and genuine, just like how you’ve been with Clark ever since. And he takes them to the heart, cherishing them and never taking them for granted.

“You’re a great person. Because you have a heart and you listen to it. Even with the risks that come with it. But you know what? That’s what also makes you human. Just like the rest of us.”

In that moment, Clark was sure that he'd made the right decision to follow his heart, to care, to make mistakes—and learn from them. And most importantly, to love you.

marvel & dc masterlist ꩜ .ᐟ

[softjeekies]

Waiting After The Rain - 13

Pairing: ot8!stray kids x pregnant omega!reader

Synopsis: An omega pregnant and alone after being kicked out by their alpha stumbles upon a pack willing to take them in and care for both the omega and their pup as if they were their own, because now they are.

Genre: strangers to lovers, angsty but lots of fluff to even it out.

Warnings: a/b/o, violence, past abuse physical and verbal, past sexual abuse(mentions of past non-con), mentions of past violence, trauma, self esteem issues, pregnancy, aftermath of abuse, panic attacks, anxiety, pack dynamics, angst but it will be okay, polyamory, cursing, not beta read

A/N: sorry about another longer wait, i hope this chapter was worth the wait. thank you guys for all the support, it warms my heart <3

previous chapter // next chapter(coming soon)

The entire pack could sense how fast your heart raced all morning.

“I’m just not hungry.” Your head feels heavy as you lay it on the table next to the bowl Minho was trying to get you to eat.

“Me and you both know that’s a lie, you’re just nervous, which is completely valid but that doesn’t mean you get to not eat today. What if I feed you?” You try hard to hold back a smile from forming, but it’s too silly. A strong alpha feeding you like a little baby, it’s sort of cute.

“Ah I see that smile, now sit up and open wide.” You give in, Minho brings the food to your lips with a smile plastered across his face at the accomplishment. As usual, the food is delicious, and you can’t deny yourself finishing the bowl.

“See, that wasn’t hard.”

“I’m just scared.”

“I know, but I promise you everything will be okay. Don’t worry so much, you’ll make yourself sick.”

Finding out the gender is a big deal and can be a fun milestone but your mind is more focused on what could go wrong. The doctor would also be checking your progress on getting a healthier weight and getting the baby to a more appropriate size, and the latter scares you the most because if your pup hadn’t made enough progress you probably wouldn’t find out the gender at all today, and you know how excited the pack is. They did their best to ease your nerves today, spending as much time with you as possible, helping you get ready for the day, and each pack member left you with a gentle good luck kiss on your forehead before heading off to work.

Your nerves still got the best of you, causing you to stand patiently at the door shoes and coat already on just waiting for Chan to say it was time to go. Speaking up for yourself and your needs is probably one of the biggest hurdles you face with the pack, they’ve tried really hard to get you to let them know when something’s up or you need something but it’s hard, after so many years of being forced into silence and submission even asking to leave for your own doctor’s appointment is a lot. Seeing Chan come running down the stairs knocks you out of your thoughts.

“Babe, you didn’t have to wait by the door, you could have come and gotten me!” He’s not angry, it’s almost adorable how patient you are, it would be if he didn’t know this was due to your anxiety and trauma.

“It’s okay, I haven’t been waiting long. I know you wouldn’t make us late.” You keep your head down playing with your fingers when Chan takes one of your hands in his.

“I would never! Now let’s go see our pup.”

The wait for the doctor once you get into the room is the worst, such a huge moment so close yet so far away. Chan does his best to ease your nerves, never letting go of your hand.

“Felix was telling me about how you guys were looking at baby stuff yesterday, did you find anything you liked?”

“Uh, I’m not sure, I think I want to see stuff in person, really feel things, does that make sense?” Chan’s face lights up as an idea pops into his head.

“How about, as a reward for you being so strong today after this we’ll go pick up Han and Felix and go shopping, I’ll get you whatever you want!” The way Chan’s eyes scream ‘please let me do this for you my alpha needs it’ gives way to the fact that he wants this, maybe even more than you. So for once you don’t protest, just a simple hum before the doctor comes in interrupting whatever the alpha wanted to say next.

“Well hello there you two, Y/N you already look so much better than the last time I saw you, good job!”

You smile at the acknowledgment of your effort, you want to say it wasn’t you, Minho completely handles your meals and Seungmin can’t be near you for more than five seconds without offering you a snack or even a taste of whatever he’s eating, but that gets caught in your throat.

“Let’s see baby.” The doctor speaks, turning off the lights and getting ready for the ultrasound. While still holding onto Chan’s hand you raise Jeongin’s sweatshirt above your belly and take a deep breath.

“Same as last time, it’s going to be a little cold, just let me know if you need to stop for any reason at any time.” You give a smile but your eyes are trained on the monitor, far more interested in seeing your pup than anything else.

And suddenly nothing else matters, seeing that little baby blob will never get old. You can’t even imagine how much of a mess you’ll be when you actually get to see the baby outside of your womb. Your mind wanders for a moment to thoughts of the birth and what’s to come after it. Would the pack want to be there? Will they want to hold the pup? Would you let them? A tear slips down your cheek as the doctor examines what she’s seeing.

“Everything looks amazing, you did everything right! Now how do we feel about knowing the gender?”

“Can you maybe put it in an envelope, so me my pack and can look at it later… together.” You look over at Chan to gauge his reaction, catching a shocked expression taking over his face in the middle of wiping his tears. You can’t help but giggle, he’s too cute. The doctor hums and cleans up the gel, allowing you to pull the sweater back down.

“Of course, I’ll get that printed out for you! There is something I’d like to discuss before you leave though.” Your heart rate picks up and Chan squeezes your hand, you give the doctor a nod.

“Well as your pregnancy progresses, you may experience some more symptoms. I know you have a difficult past so I’m not sure how you feel about it but I’d like to say that given the significant progress you’ve made and how good the baby is looking, I’d like to clear you on having sex, if that’s something you want to do anytime soon.” Your face immediately turns bright red, in contrast to the nasty pit forming in your stomach. The doctor takes note of your change in your demeanor.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, I have this talk with all my pregnant patients. Your hormones are changing and spiking, and you may feel urges due to this and I don’t want you to be scared. That is completely normal and safe.” You give the doctor a shy nod and she smiles back at you before exiting the room As soon as the doctor leaves you let out a nervous laugh.

“Sorry if that was awkward, I didn’t think she’d bring that up.” With no verbal response, Chan pulls you into a hug.

“Thank you for including us all in this moment, and just, thank you for making me a dad.” He doesn’t bring up the doctor’s words, far more focused on the excitement of the gender reveal and being a dad, and you really appreciate that. Chan helps you off the bed so you can grab the envelope and head home to get Felix and Han.

Once the omegas get in the car they immediately bombard you with questions about the pup, well more specifically the gender.

“I decided, we will all find out together later tonight.” You speak hesitantly, still a little shaken up from the appointment.

“Aw, but I thought we were your special boys, can’t we just get a little sneak peek?” Han whines causing you to let out a laugh.

“Come on Hannie, won’t it be so cute for all of us to find out together?” The alpha raises his eyebrow at Jisung through the review mirror and the omega immediately slumps in his seat.

“Yeah, I guess that’s kind of cute or whatever.” He’s playing it cool but inside his heart feels like mush, the idea that he and his pack are going to be dads is starting to feel real for him, and he couldn’t be happier.

When Chan entered the baby store he was immediately hit by a wave of serious cuteness aggression, this was definitely going to be a day.

Felix really took the lead here, coming prepared with a list of what you’d need to get, but reassured you that you didn’t have to follow it at all, he just wanted to give you a rough idea of what to look at today. They all took notice of how hesitant you were, feather light touches on a crib causing Chan to take it upon himself to wrap his arms around your waist, comfortably swaying side to side.

“Do you like this one?”

“I’m not sure. This one is really pretty and Felix said it has good reviews online but it’s a little pricey.”

“Oh baby, that’s no problem! I told you, you get whatever you want.” Chan spins you around still holding you in his arms.

“You do not need to spend this kind of money on my baby.” Your pout makes his inner alpha purr, how could you be this cute?

“Our baby. And I don’t work all these hours to have nothing to show for it. I have the money, don’t you worry your pretty little head about a thing. I will always take care of my omegas.” It seems all your blood rushes to your cheeks again at, well everything he just said. Your omega purrs in contentment, begging you to give in to the alpha.

“Let’s look at other stuff, we can grab the crib last.” You huff and walk towards the omegas, Chan hot on your tail refusing to let you go too far from him. You find the omegas sitting in rocking chairs, testing them, as they would protest when you asked what the hell they were doing.

“You should test them out too!” The brunette omega pipes up, getting up and gesturing for you to try out his pick. It’s a plush rocking chair, you can’t remember seeing a chair so soft and welcoming in your life. Your body quite literally sinks into the seat, like it was made for you. The pack members think the same, each one of them sensing that their mates are feeling the exact same way watching the display in front of them. The perfect image of you holding the cutest little pup floats around in their heads, their hearts warm, minds beginning to fuzz, they are melting for you. The three hear their inner wolves growl in unison speaking the same words.

Mine. Must mate. Our Mate.

This wasn’t the first time their wolves demanded this of them, the second your smell hit their noses they knew. You have always been theirs, now they just have a lot of time to make up for what was lost.

“You need to get that.” The alpha’s voice cracked, causing giggles to come from Han and Felix.

“Hmm, it is pretty comfy.” You hum.

“So it’s yours.” The alpha purrs trying to play it cool after his moment of weakness. You smile at him, which only causes his heart to yearn more. Felix gets up from his chair the second he realizes you’re getting up as well, something he’s started doing recently as you began to show more. Without even realizing you groan, your body yearns to sit back down. The blonde omega places a hand on the small of your back rubbing soft circles.

“Are you tired? Do you want to head home? We can grab what we picked out and call it a day!“ It’s Chan who comes closer to you two and begins to fret.

“If you guys want to keep shopping we can, it’s no big deal.” You’re only turned away from Felix for a split second before he gently takes your chin to get you to look at him.

“No. We are only here for you, now you are tired and that’s okay sweetheart. How about you stay here with Hannie and me and Chan hyung will grab the furniture you picked out, pay, and we’ll grab you when we’re done!” Any protest you could have given falls in your throat thanks to Felix’s calming demeanor, his smile screams at you that everything is okay.

Back at home, as the rest of the pack trickles in throughout the evening, you all agree to wait until after dinner to find out the gender of your pup. Minho is joking about not spoiling dinner with dessert. It ends up being hard for all of you to get through dinner, Han bouncing in his seat begging everyone to hurry up, Chan’s scent is all over the place, Hyunjin is so excited he’s barely interested in the plate in front of him, Jeongin is extremely quiet, even for him. You’re all on the edge of something so huge, the food cannot vanish fast enough. Yet as soon as the last fork hits the plate you all stare at each other, suddenly extremely nervous, realizing just how real this is hitting you all at once.

Felix takes the lead once again, leading you all to the kitchen island so you can stand around it, around this magical piece of paper.

“We will all close our eyes, including me. I will unfold this and place it in the center. On the count of three, we open our eyes and see what our pup is, got it?” A mix of nervous and eager agreements fills the room, and you shut your eyes waiting for the omega’s countdown.

“Three… Two… One!” You all open your eyes together leaning close to try and make sense of the letters on the page. Jeongin is the first one to speak, or more so scream.

“It’s a girl! We’re having our girl!” The young omega yelps yet everything sounds so quiet as he pulls you into a hug. Slowly you feel each of them hug you as well, you’d never experienced a group hug before, it feels safe, it feels like home. Like a happy scene in one of the movies, everything moves in slow motion, the cheers of your packmates sound muffled but you can tell they are all happy, and you’re happy too. A little girl, a little girl you can love and protect in ways you never could. It feels like a second chance, and you couldn’t be more grateful. Your baby girl was already so loved. Jeongin takes your face in his hands gently and it grounds you, the volume rises and everything moves at the correct pace again, you take in the reactions of the pack for a moment, each one of them in tears, which makes you realize you’re crying too.

“I love you so much Y/N. Thank you for staying, thank you for trusting us, thank you for giving us our daughter.” It’s not just your pup, you are loved here.

“I love you too. All of you.” And for once, you know what it feels like to have that feeling reciprocated.

[castielscaplan]

I've Got You, Babe

Summary: You've had the worst day possible. It wasn't until you got home to Bucky that everything made you feel so much better.

Warnings: fluff, reader's having a terrible day,Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

WC: 885

Read on ao3!

Pairing: female!reader x Bucky

A/N: this was written specifically for my bean @phoenix-rising-starbird-one. I'm gonna be posting one more for you today, honey <3

You didn’t even want to breathe.

Not after the way your boss had yelled at you in front of everyone like you were a lazy intern who’d just wandered in off the street. Not after the last-minute client cancellations that tanked your whole morning. Not after you realized, halfway to work, that you were running on fumes and forgot to fill your tank again. And definitely not after you stepped right into a massive puddle of street mud with the one pair of shoes you’d actually liked this week.

Your key sticks in the door a second longer than usual—just long enough to make you feel like it’s laughing at you, too—and when it finally swings open, the warmth of your apartment hits you like a wave. Not warm as in temperature.

Warm as in Bucky.

He’s there in an instant, socked feet padding quietly across the hardwood. His eyes are already searching your face, his mouth tugging down into that gentle frown he only wears when he’s worried. He doesn’t ask what happened. He doesn’t need to.

His arms open.

And you fall right into them.

Bucky wraps you up so fast, so tightly, that it knocks the breath out of you in the best way. One hand cups the back of your head, his thumb stroking through your hair, the other arm curled around your waist like he’s shielding you from the rest of the damn world. You cling to him like gravity’s finally let go.

“Bad day?” he murmurs, brushing a kiss to your temple.

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your throat is too thick with unshed tears, and if you open your mouth, you’re pretty sure all that’ll come out is a broken sob.

He pulls you tighter, like he heard that anyway.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk yet,” he whispers, resting his chin on top of your head. “You just breathe. I’ve got you.”

You don’t know how long you stand there, swaying with him in the soft quiet of home. It’s the only time today you’ve felt like you weren’t failing at something.

Eventually, your voice scrapes out. “I forgot gas this morning. Again. Had to stop in heels and wait twenty minutes at a station that only took cash. Boss humiliated me in front of the whole team, said I was a disappointment. Three clients bailed. And then—" Your throat clicks. "Then I stepped in mud.”

You feel more than hear Bucky’s low, incredulous huff.

“Mud?” he repeats, like that was the final straw.

You nod against his chest, sniffling. “Like ankle-deep puddle of it. Ruined my shoes. Ruined my socks.”

He shifts a little, tugging your coat off with slow, careful hands, then unshoulders your bag and drops it on the couch. His vibranium hand finds yours—cold and stiff—and rubs gentle circles into your palm.

“I took care of your car,” he says after a moment. “Filled up the tank around noon. Thought maybe you’d forget again after that late night.”

You blink. “You—?”

“Yeah,” he says simply, nudging your nose with his. “And I already saw the shoes by the door. Put ‘em in the wash. I don’t think they’re ruined. You’d be surprised how much gunk that fancy washer can get out.”

You stare at him.

“Why?”

“Because I knew,” he says, still rubbing your hand. “You had that tight look on your face this morning. Like you were already bracing for the world to hit you.”

“Jesus,” you mutter. “Am I that obvious?”

“To me?” he says, brushing a soft kiss to your cheek. “Always.”

He walks you to the couch and eases you down into the cushions, then sits beside you, letting you lean into him until you’re practically draped over his lap. There’s a blanket already there—warm, worn, soft—and he tucks it around your legs without saying anything.

You bury your face in his shoulder, just breathing him in. Clean cotton, cedar soap, a little sweat. Bucky.

“I don’t want to go back tomorrow,” you mumble, half-hearted.

He kisses the side of your head. “Then don’t.”

“I have to—”

“No, you don’t.” He leans back, just enough to look into your eyes. “You have to breathe. You have to let yourself rest. Everything else can wait a damn minute.”

You exhale shakily, and he presses his forehead to yours.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he whispers. “Not with me. I’ll be strong for both of us tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, voice thick.

“I made your favorite,” he adds, a small grin tugging at his mouth. “Hope that’s not too predictable of me.”

You look toward the kitchen. Something smells good—savory, buttery, warm.

He winks. “That movie you like is queued up, too. The one with the talking dog and the alien grandpa?”

“You hate that movie.”

“Yeah,” he says, deadpan. “And I’d hate seeing you cry alone on a bad day even more.”

You press your face to his neck, and this time the tears come. Not the bitter, choking kind. The safe kind. The held kind. Bucky doesn’t say a word. He just rubs your back and waits until you’re done.

You’ve had a terrible day.

But you have Bucky.

And somehow, that makes everything else survivable.

//DONT FORGET TO HIT THE REBLOG BUTTON!!\\

[slasherslittlesimp]

Traitor (TF 141 X M!Reader)- Part Four

Warnings: Will contain descriptions of injuries, nudity, slight suggestiveness but nothing inappropriate.

Pain.

It’s the first thing your mind registers as you slowly awaken from your coma. Aches seem to radiate throughout every inch of flesh, your muscles feeling tight and sore. Your back hurts the worst, stinging painfully as you breathe, every minimal movement making the pain greater.

The pain is so great that you don’t register the weight resting against your left hand. It isn’t until your eyes flutter open, wincing at the bright light before adjusting, gaze sweeping the room in confusion, that you spot the figure next to your bed.

Gaz.

The one face you didn’t see during those weeks of interrogation. You knew he had been gone on a mission when you were first taken for questioning, but he must have only returned somewhat recently. The fact that he’s the one by your bed and none of the others admittedly lessens the panic you feel. Waking up in an unknown place after thinking you would never wake up again is disorienting and terrifying. But seeing a familiar face next to you helps.

“Gaz-“ you try to call out to him only for your voice to come out in a wheeze. You begin coughing due to the dryness in your throat, the activity causing your body to jolt with every harsh hack. Pain radiates through your body, your eyes involuntarily filling with tears as you struggle to breathe through the coughs and the pain.

Gaz awakens with a jolt, sitting up and taking one look at you before standing up, rushing to grab a cup of water for you. “Slow sips.” He tells you, gently holding your chin as he tips the cup towards your cracked lips. You try your best to do as he said, sipping slowly at the water that begins to lessen the dryness in your throat. By the time he pulls away you feel much better.

As much as he wants to talk to you, he knows you need to be checked by the nurses first. He presses the little red button by your bed and within minutes a nurse is entering the room. They’re gentle and kind as they speak to you, not moving too quickly and keeping their touches feather light as they check your injuries and bandages.

“Is there anything you’d like before I leave?” They question, hand resting carefully on your shoulder as they smile softly at you.

“Can I take a shower?” It’s the first thing you think of. You feel disgusting, having not bathed in weeks, likely only getting sponge baths to keep your injuries from becoming infected.

“You’d need to have someone help you.” They inform.

That’s how Gaz finds himself in the bathroom with you, holding you up as you lean against him. Your legs feel like jelly after not using them for so long, the muscles twitching and shaking as you try to stand on your own long enough for Gaz to pull off your hospital gown. The nurse had already removed your bandages, looking over the injuries to ensure they were healed enough for you to shower. Because of this, Gaz is easily able to see every single cut and scar on your body.

His throat feels tight as he stares at your back while helping you step into the shower. Dozens of cuts cover the entirety of your back, some deep enough to require stitches. Knowing that it was his team members who did it to you makes it even worse. Physically seeing the injuries he could’ve attempted to prevent makes his chest hurt with sorrow and guilt.

“Gaz?” Your shaky voice cuts through his thoughts, forcing his gaze to tear away from your back as he looks up at you. You’re not looking at him as you stand in the shower, leaning against the wall to support yourself. “Are you getting in?”

“What?” He nearly stumbles over the word in shock.

“You can’t really help me from out there, can you?” You mumble, and he can tell you’re embarrassed about having to be helped in the first place.

Despite the nerves thrumming through his body, Gaz begins to undress himself before stepping into the shower with you. He makes sure you’re standing towards the back while he starts the water, waiting for it to get to a good temperature before allowing you to step under the stream. He keeps a tight hold on you as you stand under the water, hissing slightly as it runs over your injuries. And despite the water streaming down your face you keep your eyes open, refusing to look away from Gaz.

Once you’re fully soaked he allows you to lean completely against him- chest to chest- as he grabs the bottle of shampoo. His fingers work the suds through your hair, massaging into your scalp. You sigh, leaning further into him, forehead resting against his shoulder. He doesn’t force you to move, instead reaching up to detach the shower head to rinse out your hair.

Now onto the part he’s truly dreading.

“This might hurt. Just tell me to stop and I will, okay?” He mutters into your ear, feeling you nod against him.

To avoid causing too much pain right away, Gaz starts by washing your shoulders, gently rubbing his hands over your skin. His hands move down your arms before moving back up to your shoulders. He whispers a quick warning before allowing his hands to dip over your upper back, hesitating slightly when you tense up. However, when you nod in reassurance he continues. He tries to keep it together as his fingers run across every bump and dip, mapping out each one with utmost care.

Gaz moves his hands back up to your biceps, giving them a careful squeeze. “Turn around, please.” He keeps his voice quiet, too afraid speaking louder would break the peace.

You do as he asks, slowly spinning in his grip before leaning your back against his chest, ignoring the slight stinging and aching pain it causes. Gaz gets more body wash in his hands before rubbing them over your chest, his hands smoothing over your pecs before trailing down your abdomen where your muscles tense beneath his touch. He whispers reassurances, telling you that everything is okay as his hands rub over your stomach with care.

With your upper body now clean, he has you turn around once again, gently instructing you to hold onto his shoulders as he gets down on his knees. He keeps his eyes lowered, focusing on your bruised knees as he washes your legs, keeping his touch from wandering too far up your thighs. He can feel your muscles twitching beneath his fingers, likely becoming strained from standing for so long. He finishes as quickly as possible before standing back up.

He allows you to wash the parts of yourself he couldn’t before helping you stand under the stream of water where your eyes remain open and locked on him. He feels a bit nervous under your gaze, refusing to make eye contact as he instead stares at your collarbone. Once you’re completely rinsed off he shuts off the water before helping you step out of the shower.

You’re guided to the toilet where you sit down, practically sighing in relief at no longer being up on your feet. Gaz wraps a towel around his waist before grabbing another one, carefully drying your hair and body, patting very softly at your injuries to avoid irritating them. Once you’re fully dried off he helps you put your gown back on, quickly getting dressed himself, before leading you back to your bed.

“Thank you.” The words come out in a soft whisper as you lie down, your eyes fluttering tiredly.

Gaz watches as you fall asleep, likely having used up your limited energy in the shower. He sits down next to your bed, putting his hand over yours as he lets out a slight breath of relief. He’s glad to have a bit more time before the inevitable discussion of what happened. He’s not sure if he’s mentally prepared to hear your own retelling of what the others did. For now, he’ll just remain by your side, ready to help whenever you need it.

[estrellacercadelvolcan]

Stella, this is you first Ari Fic??? It's so awesome! I love Ari and this is absolutely perfect!

You are yet to run to him, and so you’re operating on second-hand information about him — which is mostly focusing on the fact that he’s tall and bearded and looks like he could bench press a school bus.

Of course, that's what everyone focuses on. All the ladys must go crazy. The new walking mystery.

You extend the plate to him, and he takes it. He leans one shoulder on the doorframe, and you do not swallow when you see the muscles of his arms move. His hair reaches behind his ears, and he has a nicely trimmed beard. Even in a simple — tight — white shirt and jeans, he does look like a soldier. Not violent but like there is an alertness to him, despite the amusement in his eyes.

Okay, that sounds lethal. I probably wouldn't get any word out.

You were more than certain that a fair number of ladies in the neighborhood harbored a crush. And why wouldn’t they, when Ari was the first to volunteer to any project, cracking easy jokes while he worked and being all charismatic smiles and wide shoulders ready to tackle anything.

It keeps getting better and better. Not only does he look like a god, but he also has humor and helps others.

Stunned, you had nodded. Sure, there was an endless list of things to attend to, and the gutters had been on your mind but then winter had come and you’d been so focused on other things. You had no idea how he noticed, and when you’d asked, he shrugged it off, mentioning something about how he had to learn how to build and maintain things out there, so you’d left the topic at that. It was the first thing he fixed at your house, but not the last. He gravitated here, looking to do something of meaning, and he refused to hear your suggestions about paying him for the work he was doing — despite the fact that every project he poured himself into was done with the meticulousness rivaling not only someone not in the profession but with a passion to it.

And THAT?! That's so hot, I can't even explain it. Oh also the situation with the patio...

“At least let me pay for the wood,” you said. “You know, I’m a strong independent woman and I do have my own paycheck.” “And I’m very proud of you, dear,” he said with perfect nonchalance, and you tried to ignore something twisting in your chest at that. “Just let me pick the next five movies for our movie nights and we’re even.”

Yes, yes yes. Dear heaven 💓 Find yourself a man that knows that you are able to do things on your own but won't ever let you fight on your own.

The thing with Ari was that he flirted with anyone and everyone — except with you. He made the grannies laugh by asking them at the community nights if they were old enough to drink; he had the cashiers at the local grocery store sighing dreamily after him when he departed with one of his famous smiles. Everyone seemed to understand it was all fun and games, and yet you were certain you weren’t the only one here with hopes when it came to him. But it wouldn’t be you — his complete and total lack of that kind of behavior around you was the clearest sign you could’ve asked for.

why not me? To be honest I would ask myself the same and this situation would also probably hurt. Although, if I'm even more honest... I'm the worst a flirting and wouldn't even know how to react so... it's probably the best that way.

You heard a thump as he set the screwdriver down. He reached his hand, two fingers under your jaw tilting your face back up so that you’d look at him. There was that little wrinkle of worry between his brows and you felt a pang of guilt even as the warmth of his fingers was making your skin tingle. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he said. “We can take a break if you need a few. You’ve been somewhere far away for half the day.”

Nerina.exe stopped working. How should I even react? Stella, your way of writing him is excellent.

And then you were wondering about nothing at all. Ari was on you like a shot, his hands framing your face and pulling your lips on his even as he leaned towards you, and it didn’t matter that you didn’t understand. His kiss was a claim laid, one hand cupping the nape of your neck and the other wrapping around your waist even as his mouth devoured yours. He pulled back with his lips still on yours, bringing you to his lap and he was everything, everywhere, his scent and warmth and the softness of his shirt smelling like spring sun and laundry detergent, the taste of him on your tongue, the feeling of his hands mapping your body. It was just him all around you, and you fell into that just as easily as you’d once fallen into a comfortable, shared routine of friendship.

And just like that my heart rate goes up

“You were too precious for that, honeybun,” he murmured, eyes fixed on yours. “I didn’t… When you waltzed into my house that day, it was the first time it felt like a home. You were the first time I felt at home. And putting on that face… it felt too cheap for you. And I didn’t… I couldn’t lose you. Not you. So I thought I’d be there for you. Take care of you, make you happy, and find my joy from that. When I was out there… I don’t know if I did enough, if I made a difference. I wasn’t sure I even deserved the kind of peace I felt with you.”

Your honor, I love him 💓💖

Please, someone send me my very own Ari Levinson. Please?

Stella, thank you so much for bringing this Ari into my life! 💜 This fic has a very special place in my heart.

By the way when I first read this I kinda imagined the house like this:

And a little something:

What Makes A Home

ex-soldier!Ari Levinson x neighbor!Reader | 2,385 words.

Themes: friends to lovers, idiots in love, competency kink if you squint, neighbors, cozy community.

Reader is female, no Y/N, no description of appearance. Nicknames 'dear' and 'honeybun' are used by Ari for Reader.

My blog is for people 18+ only, minors DNI.

Story Content Warnings: implied smut, Ari being a soldier mentioned, Ari having guilt over his past, some very minor hurt/comfort (the love is requited, they're both just idiots).

Notes: This is a made-to-order fic for the amazing @bigtreefest - I hope it brings you joy and fulfilled your prompt! Full disclosure; I wasn't able to get my hands on the movie, so I had to piece Ari's character together from his scenes on YouTube. My utmost gratitude to @steviebbboi for character consult and helping me be confident about the decisions I made in the planning stages of this fic (all mishaps mine, of course). It is also my first time writing Ari. I hope you enjoy, and all feedback is very welcome!

I do not own anything The Red Sea Diving Resort related. This is an unofficial fan work. No copyright infringement intended. This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

The house that you inherited from your great-grandaunt — who apparently despised you less than her other relatives —is definitely what a realtor would describe as ‘having plenty of potential’. But it really does have good bones, so to speak, and with the current housing market, you definitely aren’t complaining.

And the neighborhood isn’t half-bad, either. The community is close-knit, if a little nosy, helpful to the point of overbearing.

And so, they didn’t miss it when a new moving truck arrived at the house next to yours. The gossip has gone wild — the names of different special services are thrown around in the whispers like candy, even though no one can reasonably know anything about his history. Especially if he has a history as some overseas covert operator, like Mary at the end of the street keeps claiming, he certainly will keep that information to himself.

You are yet to run to him, and so you’re operating on second-hand information about him — which is mostly focusing on the fact that he’s tall and bearded and looks like he could bench press a school bus.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but you reason that a simple welcome visit isn’t going to end with your untimely demise. You pick a nice Saturday afternoon, check that his truck is on the driveway, and make your favorite snickerdoodle recipe. With a plate of still-warm cookies under aluminum foil, you go ring his doorbell, not entirely sure why your heart is beating so hard. It’s just a decent thing to do.

It takes a few moments for him to open the door, and when he does, you are proud that your poker face holds.

“Hi,” you say to the giant at the door. “You must be Ari. I live in the house next to yours, and I thought I’d come to welcome you to the neighborhood; they did it to me too, when I moved in a few months ago. I brought snickerdoodles.”

You extend the plate to him, and he takes it. He leans one shoulder on the doorframe, and you do not swallow when you see the muscles of his arms move. His hair reaches behind his ears, and he has a nicely trimmed beard. Even in a simple — tight — white shirt and jeans, he does look like a soldier. Not violent but like there is an alertness to him, despite the amusement in his eyes.

“Hi,” he says. “Yes. I’m Ari. And you are?”

You give him your name, chuckling at the fact that you left it out in the first place.

“Nice to meet you. And thank you for the baked goods. Would you like to stay for a cup of coffee?”

He moves aside, gesturing for you to step over the threshold.

And you do.

There were a lot of things you had learned about Ari over the six months since your first meeting, that cup of coffee that somehow hadn’t felt awkward at all. He had a talent for filling moments like that with idle chatter that didn’t feel like it was just there to cover something.

It was just so Ari, how his charm was always on display and yet so inseparably a part of his very being that it didn’t feel like an act. It was just who he was. Of course, he could be a playboy — at least when it came to the charming part, since as far as you knew, there hadn’t been anyone visiting his house besides you.

You were more than certain that a fair number of ladies in the neighborhood harbored a crush. And why wouldn’t they, when Ari was the first to volunteer to any project, cracking easy jokes while he worked and being all charismatic smiles and wide shoulders ready to tackle anything.

It was that restless energy that had drawn him to your house, too. Just like you had turned up to his door that one Saturday, the next week he had turned up at yours, dressed in a flannel and jeans and carrying what looked like a heavy, well-equipped toolbox, pristinely new.

“Those gutters are going to fall off the clips soon. I could attach them better if that’s alright with you?”

Stunned, you had nodded. Sure, there was an endless list of things to attend to, and the gutters had been on your mind but then winter had come and you’d been so focused on other things. You had no idea how he noticed, and when you’d asked, he shrugged it off, mentioning something about how he had to learn how to build and maintain things out there, so you’d left the topic at that.

It was the first thing he fixed at your house, but not the last. He gravitated here, looking to do something of meaning, and he refused to hear your suggestions about paying him for the work he was doing — despite the fact that every project he poured himself into was done with the meticulousness rivaling not only someone not in the profession but with a passion to it.

Like the patio you were now sitting on your knees on, holding the plank in place for him so he could screw it onto the beam underneath from the opposite side. You’d made the mistake of mentioning over a shared dinner that you had contacted a contractor to see how much it would be to replace the deck, and he had turned up the next morning with all the necessary materials, in the exact shade of wood that you’d envisioned.

You weren’t certain that you wanted to know what strings he’d pulled to get all that so fast.

“Ari, seriously, you didn’t need to do this.”

“Nope,” he said. “But I wanted to.”

“At least let me pay for the wood,” you said. “You know, I’m a strong independent woman and I do have my own paycheck.”

“And I’m very proud of you, dear,” he said with perfect nonchalance, and you tried to ignore something twisting in your chest at that. “Just let me pick the next five movies for our movie nights and we’re even.”

You huffed, knowing that you’d be in for some underground art movies no one but Ari had ever even heard of but nodded regardless. It was literally the least you could do.

He finished screwing the plank down and reached for more screws from the box on the side — you’d begun earlier today by laying down all the planks to have an even platform to work with, and now it was just the matter of evening out the cracks in between and attaching them to the support structure. His arms moved, and his t-shirt lifted slightly as he bent to the side, revealing a slice of tanned, warm skin at his waist. You forced yourself not to stare.

The thing with Ari was that he flirted with anyone and everyone — except with you. He made the grannies laugh by asking them at the community nights if they were old enough to drink; he had the cashiers at the local grocery store sighing dreamily after him when he departed with one of his famous smiles. Everyone seemed to understand it was all fun and games, and yet you were certain you weren’t the only one here with hopes when it came to him.

But it wouldn’t be you — his complete and total lack of that kind of behavior around you was the clearest sign you could’ve asked for. He saw you in an entirely platonic light, and so you didn’t want to endanger what was a beautiful and genuinely enjoyable friendship with him by asking him if you could be more than that.

Even if sometimes the question, the why not me, burned your tongue and tried to sneak out of your throat. At least then you’d know the reason why he saw you so differently than others.

“Honeybun?” he said, yanking you out of your thoughts.

You swallowed, hoping that the question would go down too, and met his expectant gaze. He’d said something, and it had flown right past you, and now he was staring. God, you could drown in the blue of his eyes.

You were lucky to have him. He was a good friend, caring, attentive. He made you laugh at the worst of days; he was good at coming up with solutions, especially unconventional ones. You had no reason at all to feel wistful at all the nicknames, derived from different baked goods you’d made for him over the past months.

“Nothing, nothing,” you said, lowering your gaze. “Sorry. What did you need me to do?”

You heard a thump as he set the screwdriver down. He reached his hand, two fingers under your jaw tilting your face back up so that you’d look at him. There was that little wrinkle of worry between his brows and you felt a pang of guilt even as the warmth of his fingers was making your skin tingle.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he said. “We can take a break if you need a few. You’ve been somewhere far away for half the day.”

You quickly shook your head, knowing that you’d already ventured too far close to the line you didn’t want to end up crossing.

“Just a little tired, that’s all,” you said, hearing the flimsiness of the excuse even in your own ears.

He tilted his head and raised his brow; his hand was still there, under your jaw, lingering where it absolutely shouldn’t.

“I know it when you’re lying, honeybun,” he said, one corner of his mouth rising into a smirk. “Spill the beans. Do I need to kick someone’s ass? I’ll do it, you know.”

You swallowed so loud that it seemed to echo in your head like the creaking sound of thin ice.

“No, there’s no need for that. I was just wondering what’s so different about me?”

A flash of something in his eyes, gone so quickly that you could hardly tell it was there to begin with.

“Different how?” he said, strain in his voice, like he was going for some sort of normalcy and failing to grasp it.

Oh no. You had opened some floodgate and now things would be awkward from here to eternity. The only way to save this was to get it all out, and now that the water was flowing freely, there was no stopping the words from flowing out of your mouth:

“Well, it’s not a big deal, but sometimes I wonder why it is that you have this flirt going on with everyone except for me, and I mean, it’s absolutely and totally fine, you just see me thoroughly like a friend and that’s that but with what we have and all the nicknames and all that, sometimes I wish there could be more and I’m just wondering –“

And then you were wondering about nothing at all.

Ari was on you like a shot, his hands framing your face and pulling your lips on his even as he leaned towards you, and it didn’t matter that you didn’t understand. His kiss was a claim laid, one hand cupping the nape of your neck and the other wrapping around your waist even as his mouth devoured yours. He pulled back with his lips still on yours, bringing you to his lap and he was everything, everywhere, his scent and warmth and the softness of his shirt smelling like spring sun and laundry detergent, the taste of him on your tongue, the feeling of his hands mapping your body. It was just him all around you, and you fell into that just as easily as you’d once fallen into a comfortable, shared routine of friendship.

When he finally let your mouth go, you were both out of breath, and you were straddling his lap, suddenly very aware of how his feelings towards you weren’t entirely platonic at all. There was a hint of pink on his cheeks, and his hands came to cup your jaw, thumbs caressing your skin.

“You were too precious for that, honeybun,” he murmured, eyes fixed on yours. “I didn’t… When you waltzed into my house that day, it was the first time it felt like a home. You were the first time I felt at home. And putting on that face… it felt too cheap for you. And I didn’t… I couldn’t lose you. Not you. So I thought I’d be there for you. Take care of you, make you happy, and find my joy from that. When I was out there… I don’t know if I did enough, if I made a difference. I wasn’t sure I even deserved the kind of peace I felt with you.”

“Ari,” you breathed out, tears prickling in your eyes, unsure what you would’ve said even if there wasn’t a lump blocking your throat. “Ari, I…”

His thumb brushed over your kiss-swollen lips, and he shook his head ever so slightly, his gaze aflame with something that could never ever be just friendship.

“But now that I’ve had a taste of you, honey, I’m not selfless enough to give that up. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I can’t let you go.”

“Then don’t.”

And just like that, his mouth was back, his hands diving down from your face to map the shape of your body, and the tiny moan he breathed right onto your lips sent a shiver down your back. He was holding you by the hips and you tangled both of your hands into his hair, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere without you.

“I think,” he managed in between pushes of his lips. “I think the patio can wait.”

You nodded eagerly, and he stood up with ease that sent a swooping feel of desire into your core, his hands slipping under your thighs so he could carry you. Your legs wrapped around his waist as your arms clung to him, and he made a beeline for the door that led inside.

It was a good thing that after all the work he’d done at the house, he knew exactly where the bedroom was.

Thank you for reading. Please consider leaving a comment, if you can spare the time and energy.

[frostyyyroyalmilktea]

Morpheus x Reader

This is part one of my yet unnamed wrtitng project where reader is a vaguely divine being who has urequited love for The Dream King. When she hears about the decision the Kindly Ones are about to enact, she inserts herself in everybody's business and causes a huge mess. Dream takes to being a damsel in distres very, very poorly.

This is a love story, potentialy. When they each deal with their shit. This is also a 'She fell first, but he fell harder' story. Or so is the plan.

This story diverges from canon at the end of episode 6 of season 2.

I haven't posted anything on tumblr in ages so I don't remember anything about formatting. I’ll try my best to tag all the appropriate warnings, but if I miss anything please let me know in the comments or shoot me a dm. If I stick to my original idea, this might get emotionally heavy at times and I want everyone to feel safe.

TW: Non-graphic Violence, Non-Graphic Physical Pain, Mentions of Vomit / Nausea, Passing Out / Fainting, Angst(?)

***

Atropos had brought the scissors to the thread.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you advised, stepping into their domain — a dim, thread-laced void that smelled of metal and dust. “Getting a bit trigger-happy in your old age, are we?”

Your tone was light, playful, and your posture radiated ease but you didn’t delude yourself into thinking it fooled anyone. You hadn’t come here for a tea party, and if you made it out of this place alive, it would be a pure stroke of luck.

Then again, luck had always been something of a speciality of yours. Though, it never came without some blood, spilled over the thrill of not being dead yet.

The Crone’s hand stilled in the air.

“You,” she spat, the word a curse on her cracked lips. “I see that in all these years, your mother still hasn’t impressed upon you the importance of good manners. Like keeping your nose out of places it doesn’t belong and not poking into the business of forces far older and far crueller than a half-wit like you can even begin to comprehend.”

“Oh,” you cooed, taking a seat at the table. Lachesis’ eyes flicked toward you without betraying any emotion, but Clotho recoiled ever so slightly. Atropos set the scissors down — not far, but no longer poised. She knew you were a reckless idiot, but not reckless nor stupid enough to show up here without a good hand to play.

“But you see,” you went on, “my mother is a very understanding woman. She knows that fourteen thousand years is a very  tender age in a girl’s life.” You leaned forward, smile unfurling. “And you’re wrong, actually. This is my business. I make it so.”

The Crone let out a barking laugh, cold like the dark depths of an ocean.

“What you’re doing, you daft little thing, is make yourself look pathetic. Risking not only your own little life, but your mother’s reputation, as she will inevitably be forced to fish you out of your mess like always. Worse still, you risk the integrity of existence itself. All for a man who won’t even look at you. One who sees you as a child at best, and an annoying pest at worst. He’ll never love you. He’ll never respect you. He’ll never tie his fate to yours, no matter how many times you throw yourself onto his pyre.”

Her words sliced neatly, efficiently, deeply. As they were meant to.  But it wasn’t quite the death by a thousand papercuts yet. None of this was news to you. And you’d had time — a long, long time — to come to terms with the undignified position your feelings placed you in.

You were wounded, but not fatally.

With a put-upon yawn, you tilted your head. 

“Oh, wow, this took awhile. Can I get a SparksNotes version next time? You see, there’s this thing on Earth called TikTok, and it’s completely fried my attention span. But let’s disregard all the unnecessary cruel things you said about my admittedly ill-advised crush and rewind to the ‘integrity of the entire existence itself’ bit for a second. Because, you see, the other stuff, no matter how poorly-mannered it was, was true. Morpheus doesn’t give a shit about me, this truth is older than most civilisations. But this other thing, though, is complete rot. Isn't it, love?”

“How dare you!” The Maiden burst out, cheeks flushed. “How dare you speak that way of our sacred duty! You’re barely any better than a mortal. If it weren’t for your mother—”

“Tch tch tch,” you cut her off unceremoniously, massaging your temple as if you suddenly got a horrible migraine out of the blue. “While this little tirade is very admirable, it really does nothing for the situation and with all due respect you don’t decide anything around here. I’m here for Atropos. She knows this. So let’s stop stalling.” 

You saw it in her eyes when it finally dawned on The Crone that you know.

“So,” you said, voice cool now, precise, “do you want to tell them yourself, or should I?”

“Tell us what?” Clotho asked, confused.

“You nasty little parasite,” Atropos hissed, venom coiled tight in her throat.

“Such an odd pet name,” you mused. “But I’m glad we’ve finally reached this stage in our relationship.”

She leapt at you over the table. But her fingers only caught the empty air.

You stood behind her now, the tip of an ancient, rusted spindle pressed lightly to her throat.

“You know I’m a pacifist on Fridays, love,” you murmured, voice steel. “It’s deeply rude to make me break my asceticism like that.”

“You’re completely insane!” Clotho gasped. “If you kill her, you will unspool the matter of existence itself!”

You let out a tired laugh.

“No. I won’t. That’s the bit I‘m trying to make her tell you.”

You stepped back, the spindle fell to the ground with a metallic thud.

“While there’s no denying you are one of the most powerful beings in the universe, your power is arbitrary, not absolute. She knows this because she has changed someone's fate before.”

Clotho looked shocked, lost — like the air had been punched out of her. But judging by Lachesis’ face, you could take an educated guess that she already knew, or at least had her suspicions.

She met your gaze, and for a moment — just a moment — her eyes flickered with something like respect.

She scoffed, eventually. But not unkindly.

“Listen,” you tried to get back to the matter you actually came here to settle. “I know who it was, I know why she did it, and I literally couldn't care less. But if I go around blabbing my big mouth about it, the reputational damages to your business would be astronomical, and I have no interest in that. All I ask is that you,” you turned to Atropos, “promise you won’t cut Morpheus’ string, and in return I promise to never tell or otherwise imply, show, or point to this information ever again.”

Atropos looked ready to tear you limb from limb, possibly inventing new limbs just to tear them. But before she could strike, Lachesis spoke.

“We will not take Morpheus’ life for this infringement,” she said. “There is no promise if he steps out of line again.”

“Deal,” you agreed instantly.

“But,” she continued, “you threatened the Kindly One. You cannot walk out without a punishment. It will not be a lethal or a harmful one, but it must be done.” She came up to her sister and whispered something in her ear. Judging by the sadistic smile that spread on the Crone’s face, you really doubted the whole ‘not lethal or harmful’ bit, but nothing could deter you at this point. You got them to agree to keep Morpheus alive. The price was secondary.

You and Atropos shook hands, and the world around you began spinning, or maybe unravelling. At the last moment before everything went to black, you saw Lachesis’ smile directed at you, coy and mischievous but the same as her expression earlier — not unkind. ***

The first thing you felt when you came to was sand. You very much hated sand. Inexplicably, deeply. One could even say viscerally. 

It wasn’t always like that, though. In the early millennia of your life, you loved the beach, the ocean. It’s just that you didn’t associate sand with either anymore. 

So these days, you stuck to megacities with their glass and steel, and blessed concrete.

Your last memory was sealing the deal with Atropos. Agreeing to a punishment for threatening her life.

Was this the punishment? Dropping you in a sand dune? Really?

Sure, it wasn’t lethal. Not harmful either, technically. 

But it was gross. You could already feel the sand in all the crevices it had no business being in.

You groaned and began to haul yourself upright, palms pressing against the grainy ground. You were somewhat halfway up, on all fours with your arse in the air and your dignity long gone, when you heard it —or rather felt it.

A presence. Furious, vast, and coming right at you.

It was at that moment your wrist seared with agonising pain, and you lost what little balance you had in your body and fell to the ground again.

Face first in the fucking sand.

He arrived like a calamity.

Even in his human form, Morpheus was freakishly tall. Perched on the uppermost edge of what mortals could register as man, and not a statue possessed by an eldreich god.

But somehow, he felt even bigger now, like he was exaggerating his dimensions just to make a point. He was vast. A force of pure fury. 

Divine. Suffocating.

He said nothing at first. Just lifted you by the scruff of your tattered hoodie, like you were a beat-up doll he’d come across in a charity shop.

He was angry. So, so angry.

You felt it. His rage. He was known to be ruthless even to those he loved. You didn’t want to think where that left you in your current predicament.

It tore through your veins like wildfire. Literally. Physically. Molten and ancient. Burning you up from the inside.

It was agony. Unspeakable. Almost holy.

You weren’t made to carry it. Not this kind of heat. Not from him.

You wanted to vomit.

“What,” he growled, and it wasn’t just a sound, it was sheer force, “have you done?”

It echoed in your skull like a blow, rattling something loose in the process. Probably a very important something.

And you were trying, really. Trying to keep your grip on reality by sheer force of will. But you weren’t Endless. 

Barely divine, for that matter.

You weren’t built to endure the full weight of Dream’s wrath.

The darkness came for you.

[blaysreid]

STATIC - S.R

pairing = spencer + bau!gf!reader

summary = You get hurt, and he loves you more than ever but the fear and guilt crush him. He pulls away, leaving a silence neither knows how to break. When you ask if it’s still real, he admits he’s lost. You can't take his words and decide it's best for you to leave.

genre = hurt and angst

He doesn’t visit the hospital.

You’re barely conscious when the team brings you in. Sirens screaming. Blood drying against your skin. The world spins, then fades. Someone holds your hand. Maybe it’s JJ. Maybe Emily. You aren’t sure.

But it’s not Spencer.

You don’t see him until three days later.

You’re sitting up in bed, drowsy from painkillers, throat dry from worry. The door opens. He steps in like a shadow. Still in his work clothes. Still refusing to meet your eyes.

You smile, weak and relieved.

“Spence…”

He stops a full foot away from the bed. Doesn’t smile back.

“I just wanted to see if you were awake.” he says.

That’s all.

No hug. No handhold. No kiss to your forehead like he always did after bad cases.

Just silence.

You nod slowly. Try to reach for him. He takes a tiny step back.

“I’m okay,” you offer gently. “The bullet missed anything major. I’ll be home in a couple days.”

He nods once. Swallows hard.

“That’s good.”

Then, without another word, he turns around and walks out.

The door closes.

And all that’s left is the soft hiss of your IV and the hum of the monitor beside you.

It’s the first time you realize he’s scared of you now.

Not because he doesn’t love you.

Because he does.

And that’s the problem.

You’re home four days later.

The pain in your side throbs with every step, but it’s manageable. What isn’t manageable is the fact that Spencer hasn’t called. Not once. Not even a text.

Morgan and JJ visit. Garcia brings soup and a blanket with cats on it. They all ask the same thing: “How are you? How’s Reid?”

You lie.

You say he’s just processing.

You say it like it doesn’t hurt.

But you know Spencer. You know how he gets when he’s afraid. When something threatens the one thing he thinks he doesn’t deserve. He doesn’t cling. He retreats.

He doesn’t say “I love you.” He says nothing.

A week later, he finally comes over.

He brings tea, the same one he always makes you when you’re sick. The lemon blend you used to share under soft blankets in winter. He puts it down on the coffee table and doesn’t sit.

You stand across from him in silence.

“I thought you’d come sooner." you say.

He doesn’t answer.

You take a step forward.

“I almost died, Spence.”

“I know.”

“Then why do I feel like I lost you instead?”

His jaw tightens. His hands stay in his pockets.

“You didn’t lose me.”

“Then what is this? You won’t talk to me. You won’t look at me. I needed you, and you left.”

“I didn’t know what to do,” he says quietly.

You take another step.

“You could’ve just held my hand. That’s all. You could’ve held it.”

He finally looks at you. His eyes are wide. His voice shakes.

“If I touched you, I wouldn’t have let go.”

You freeze.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers. “So I left before it could happen.”

That’s when you realize what he’s doing.

He’s preparing to lose you. On purpose. So it won’t destroy him when the world takes you away.

But the worst part?

He’s already halfway gone in his head.

You see him every day.

At the bullpen. On the jet. In the elevator.

He’s always there, just like before. But it’s like someone turned the volume down on him. He doesn’t meet your eyes. He doesn’t sit beside you. He doesn’t offer you coffee or mumble facts under his breath or smile when you laugh.

He’s there, but not really.

He’s performing his job like nothing happened, but with you, he’s distant. Cautious. Like you’re a memory he’s trying to erase.

On the sixth day back, you catch him staring at you during a briefing. The second your eyes meet his, he looks away.

You snap that night.

You show up at his apartment. He opens the door like he’s surprised, like he forgot you still had a key.

“Hi,” you say.

He steps aside, silent.

The place is dark. Unwashed mug on the counter. Books unopened. Couch cushions flattened like he hasn’t been sleeping in a bed.

You turn to face him. “We work together, Spencer. You can’t just pretend I don’t exist.”

He leans back against the door. “I’m not pretending.”

“Then what is this?”

He doesn’t answer.

You take a step forward. “Do you not love me anymore?”

His eyes flutter shut. “I do.”

“Then why are you hurting me like this?”

“I can’t lose you again,” he says softly.

“You didn’t lose me.”

“I almost did.”

You go still.

“When they said it was bad, when I saw the blood on your shirt, I-" His voice breaks. “I thought I’d never get to say goodbye. I thought I’d never get to say I love you again. So now I’m stuck, because I still love you and I still almost lost you and I don’t know how to be near you without falling apart.”

You’re quiet.

Then you whisper, “We were happy, Spencer.”

He nods. “That’s the part that hurts most.”

You cross the space between you and press your forehead to his. “Then stop punishing both of us.”

He shakes under your hands.

He doesn’t answer.

He just closes his eyes and lets himself be held.

You stay the night.

Not in the way you used to. You don’t curl up with him under a blanket, legs tangled, laughter spilling into soft kisses. You sleep on the opposite side of the bed, both of you facing away, backs turned like bookends in different stories.

In the morning, you sit across from him at the table.

You watch him pour his coffee like it’s any other day. He doesn’t speak. Neither do you. There’s a weight pressing down on the table. A silence that isn’t comfortable. It’s cold. Hollow. Familiar now.

You finally say it.

“Are we still together?”

He freezes.

You let the words hang there. Let them echo. Let them hurt.

Spencer doesn’t look up.

“I don’t know." he says.

You feel the crack in your chest stretch open. “You don’t know?”

“I don’t know how to be what you need right now. I don’t know how to stop being afraid of you dying. I don’t know how to be next to you without panicking. I love you, but it feels like that’s not enough.”

You stare at him, swallowing the sting behind your eyes. “So you’re not saying you don’t love me.”

“No,” he says, finally meeting your eyes. “I love you so much it makes me sick.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re already gone?”

He looks devastated. Like he doesn’t know.

You rise from the table slowly. You grab your bag. He stands too, panic starting to rise in his chest.

“Where are you going?”

“I think I need space." you say, voice gentle, not cruel.

Spencer reaches out but doesn’t touch you. His hand hovers. Then lowers. "Space?"

“Will you come back?” he asks.

You pause at the door.

“I don’t know,” you whisper.

You leave.

And for the first time in his life, Spencer Reid doesn’t have the answer.

tag list = @summerobertsvariant

[musingsofheaven]

MEDICAL MISCONDUCT

summary: You lost your virginity and now you’re 99% sure your vagina is broken. Google isn’t helping and your pussy feels like it got hit by a truck. So naturally, you make a clinic appointment under a fake name and pray the doctor isn’t someone you know. Spoiler: she is. Even worse? She’s very thorough. Like, too thorough.

pairings: gynecologist!tashi duncan x afab!reader

warnings: 8.1k words. mature themes. medical malpractice. dubious consent. age gap. power imbalance. fingering. clit stimulation. voyeuristic undertones. power imbalance. shame / humiliation. internalized guilt. read responsibly.

note: very very much requested by the many! so here it is. pls let me know if u enjoy it by supporting me mwaaa

Spent the last twelve hours convincing yourself it was fine is not the night you want to spend. That it was normal for your pussy to feel still raw, for the soreness to bite every time you shifted in bed, for the sting that made you flinch on the toilet at three a.m. It’s supposed to feel like that after the first time, right? That’s what Google said between the search results you clicked in a panic, phone screen bright against your pillow while your heart pounded too hard for how quiet your room was.

“Why does it still hurt after the first time”

“Is it normal for the first time to hurt 12 hours later”

“How to know if you tore down there first time”

“Will it get infected”

“Is he too big or am I too small”

“Is pain normal after losing virginity”

“How long do you feel pain after the first sex”

“Is bleeding normal after first sex”

“pain when sitting down after sex”

“When should I see a doctor first time with sex pain”

“feels swollen down there after the first time”

“How to know if something is wrong down there”

You pulled your knees up to your chest under the covers to press your thighs together until your hips cramped, but the soreness didn’t go away. It wasn’t even bleeding. It’s just tender, throbbing every time you move. Your brain wouldn’t shut up, cycling every worst-case scenario. Infection. A tear that won’t heal. Some hidden problem that would mean you’re broken forever. It was supposed to feel good because that’s what your friends have been telling you. Unfortunately, you are experiencing the opposite. It left you limping around your room and wincing when your jeans pressed against your cunt. Now you are cursing yourself for not telling him to slow down.

In the morning, you couldn’t even look at yourself in the mirror while you brushed your teeth, but you checked anyway. Shifting your hips and pulling your waistband down to peek. Eyes caught on the soft folds that were still a little puffy. A shade darker than usual. Too tender when your fingertip brushed the edge. No blood. No weird discharge. But you still didn’t feel right. Your finger hovered over the clinic’s online booking site for fifteen minutes before you typed in a fake name, a new email you made just for this, one you could delete after. You picked the soonest slot you could find. Ignoring the guilt in your stomach when you saw the price and just pressing confirm before you could change your mind. The confirmation pinged your inbox a minute later.

From: womensclinic@gmail.com

Good day. Your schedule for your appointment has been confirmed. Please come tomorrow, Wednesday at 10:15 AM. Your doctor will be Dr. Duncan. Please arrive 10 minutes early. If your name has been called during your schedule and no one answered. Your slot will be voided. Let us know if you need to reschedule. See you.

You swallowed hard when you saw the doctor’s name, the Duncan pulling at the back of your memory. Your mom’s best friend’s sister, wasn’t it? The pretty one you saw once at that family barbecue, the one who had soft hair and toned arms, the one who had smiled at you when you tried to hide behind your mother’s shoulder. You hadn’t even realized she was a doctor then, too busy counting the freckles on her shoulders when she laughed, the warm gold in her eyes. Your stomach twisted, heat crawling up your neck. Maybe it wouldn’t be her. Maybe it would be someone else with the same last name.

Maybe it didn’t matter, you told yourself while clutching your phone to your chest while you lay back down. Head up and staring at the ceiling as your cunt pulsing softly under the thin fabric of your shorts. It was just a check-up. Just to make sure you weren’t broken. Nothing more. You closed your eyes so you could sleep, but it kept replaying that experience in your mind. Like everything. How you bit your lip to keep from making a sound. How it burned when he pushed in. How it hurt more than it felt good, how you tried to pretend it didn’t. How you said it was okay. But you did all of that instead of saying shit. You let your legs shake through it. You just let yourself cry and gaslight yourself. It's normal because it’s the first time. That's what you said in your head right? Don’t forget how you convinced yourself that it wasn’t supposed to feel like that. So why does it keep hurting? You know that and maybe tomorrow, you'll get your answer.

And you will get it. Today. The day passed so fast because you’re already in the clinic before you even enjoy your sleep last night. The air in the clinic feels too clean. The air is cool against your bare legs while you sit in the waiting room with your knees pressed together. There’s the quiet blow of the air conditioner mixed with the sound of shuffling papers from the front desk. A scent of hand sanitizer is clinging to your nose with every breath you take. Your phone screen lights up in your hand, but you don’t open any notifications. Just let your thumb swipe over the glass again and again until your skin feels warm under your touch.

A dress felt like a good idea when you left the house. Easy to slip off. Easier to move in. Less pressure on your hips and the tender spot between your legs that still catches when you step wrong. It’s a pale color that makes you feel small, soft, like maybe it will make you look innocent enough that this will all be quick and easy. It shifts when you cross your legs and brush over your thighs. Keep reminding yourself that you’re still not comfortable. That the soreness hasn’t gone away yet.

There’s a soft ding sound from the front and the woman behind there looks up before calling your fake name. A polite smile is given to you when you walk over, but you can’t return it. Your cheeks are burning while you pull your dress down anxiously, and your sandals make a sound with each step you make on the clean tile floor. She doesn’t ask questions. She just checks something on the screen and asks you to sit for a moment and the doctor will see you soon.

You let the wait stretch around the clinic. Each second still feels heavy in your stomach, and your eyes keep darting to the fogged glass door that leads to the hallway. The coldness of the air conditioner doesn’t also help you. You are praying to everything that the Dr. Duncan they’re talking about is not Tashi Duncan. It should be just a coincidence. Just the same surname. But when the handle clicks, your breath stops. When she steps out in a coat with a clipboard in her hand, all you think is ‘Why is she the Dr. Duncan in front of you right now?’

She’s wearing light makeup and her skin glows under the clinic lights. The gold flecks catch in her brown eyes when she scans the room for a moment before her gaze passes over you. She looks back again and again. Lingering just a second too long before her lips curve into a soft smile. She calls your fake name, but it sounds strange in her mouth. It feels like it doesn’t fit there. Your stomach pulls into knots while you’re forcing yourself to get over it and stand up. Hands can’t rest so you pull it down again. Fingers brushing over the fabric so you can hide how your legs shake underneath.

Tashi turns before motioning for you to follow her. There’s the scent that smells so fresh and clean that drifts back while you’re trailing behind her into the hallway. The room she guides you into is big enough for whatever needs to be done inside. There’s a soft pink chair in the corner. You like how the counter looks neat and organized. It’s full of gloves, cotton swabs, small bottles of clear liquid, and a container for used instruments. There’s a fabric that covers the exam table, but she doesn’t instruct you to lie down there yet. She sets the clipboard down and sits on a stool. Her knees spread slightly to balance while she looks at you.

Her smile softens. It’s warm but edged with something careful. Something that says she knows exactly who you are. Fingers tap lightly on the clipboard, and she looks up. Her eyes are holding yours. “So, what brings you here today?” How will you answer this? What really brings you? Because you’re a nervous wreck? Because you don’t know if it’s normal? Because you might be overreacting? Before you open your mouth, it already feels dry like there’s sand on it. Teeth keep biting your cheek to feel a little comfort but you feel the opposite. Breath stuttering and glued down inside your body. Can’t even think or blurt out proper sentences without hands gripping and crumpling your dress. Eyes can’t rest and keep darting to the wall behind her.

“I… um. I had sex. For the first time. Yesterday.” Tashi doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink, just nods, her eyes calm, letting you continue. “It still hurts. I know it was supposed to hurt. Um. Like… The first push? But it still hurts now. It’s not bleeding, but it just… it doesn’t feel right.” You watch her shift and the stool creaks along with it. She reached forward and her forearms sat prettily on her thighs with her hands clasped closed together. Head tilt to the side while her hair relaxes as she focuses her attention on you.

“Does it hurt all the time? Or only when you move or go to the bathroom?” Your throat tightens as you swallow. Eyes flicking down to the floor. “When I move sometimes. And when I pee, a little.” Her nod is slow and reassuring. “Any itching, burning, or unusual discharge?” You shake your head quickly while quietly pulling the hem of your dress down again. “No. Just… sore.” She hummed. The only sound in the room is when she’s not asking something and when you’re not answering, as his fingers tap once against her knee.

Her eyes keep going down but she keeps catching the way your thighs press together before looking at your eyes again. “It’s actually good you follow your instinct to go to the clinic since it’s been worrying you,” Her voice is calm. It’s steady and low enough to make the small room feel smaller and warmer while you shift on your feet. She doesn’t break eye contact, she’s holding, and doesn’t let you lie and hide because she might know how messy you feel right now.

“I have more questions for you before we proceed looking at what might be the problem, is that alright?” You nod. A small and quick movement. Your heart is thumping so hard you can feel it in your cunt. A soft and dull pulse that makes you wince. Tashi notices, but her expression doesn’t change. “When was your last period?” You tell her, voice quiet, and she makes a small note on the clipboard. “Have you been on any birth control, or was it protected?” Your hands twist tighter in your dress, and you nod, adding, “Condom.”

Her nod matches yours, slow and calm. “Good. Any history of infections down there?” Her question brings more shame, but not bad shame, but maybe… Maybe you are just really embarrassed. You shake your head before answering, “None.” She writes it in her notes quickly before finally setting the clipboard aside, and she sits straight up. Placed her pen in the pocket of her coat before resting her hands on her thighs. “That’s all my questions for now, and I appreciate you being honest with me, consider… You know. Anyway, the check-up is just looking into if everything is healing the way it should and also if there is no other problem we need to worry about.”

Head bobbing up while you anxiously pick the loose threads on your dress. Breathing still heavy and letting out shaky exhales. “Okay.” Tashi’s smile stays the same before she stands up to reach for a small stack of gowns folded neatly on the counter. The fabric looks thin. Just like the basic ones you always see in the hospital and TV shows. It’s the blue one. She gives it to you when she turns around. “Here, put this on, open to the front. You can change behind the curtain over there. Just leave your dress and underwear on the chair, and let me know when you’re ready.”

Your hands are shaky when you take it from her. It’s worse because your breathing is still fucked. It catches in your throat when your skin touches for a few seconds. The fabric is cold against your finger, which must be because of the air conditioning here that made this gown feel this way. There's also a curtain in the corner of the room. It must be where you are supposed to change. The curtain is just a typical one but in a cream color that feels soft when it brushes against your shoulder when you go inside it. The rings above clink when you push them close around your body. The heart keeps beating and it seems the one down there is also in competition on the way it thumps too. It’s like some goddamn billboard propaganda in front of you that keeps reminding you how it feels sore. Fingers shake when you pull your dress above your body until it slips over your head and you put it in the chair beside you.

The bra wrapping around your body is suffocating against your chest but you leave it on because the only part she needs to see is down there. Your thumbs hook the side bands of your panties before pushing them down. The cold air immediately hits your skin, especially the mound of your pussy. The gown rustles when you put it on your body, the thin fabric brushes against your body, and the length is long enough to cover your knees. It gapes open in the front, and you clutch it shut with one hand while you step out from behind the curtain. Eyes under the bright light above the exam table.

Across where you are standing, Tashi is pulling a pair of gloves as she lines up a small packet on the tray. She also got a bottle of clear gel… You are sure that’s a lube but you can’t really tell since you never use one. You continue to watch her as she checks the seal before setting it down, her gloved fingers moving with practiced care. Tashi glances up when she realizes you’re already done and waiting for her. She scans over you for a moment before giving you a nod. “We don’t have to rush, okay’ You can take your time to breathe and just come to me. Lie down on the bed whenever you are ready.”

And you do. Feet walking like they have own their own life. The exam table is just what you expected. Comfortable and soft underneath our knees when you climb up. The fabric is soothing when the edge brushes against the backs of your thighs after you sit. You clutched the front of the gown tight around yourself when you settled there. The fabric is thin enough so the air is sneaking through it and you can feel the coldness inside. This makes your knees press together because of the shiver and the desire to hide yourself, but the gown shifts each time you move. It slips against your skin, reminding you how exposed you’re about to be.

Tashi rolls over on her stool, stopping a few inches away. She just stays still for a while like she’s having second thoughts about being your doctor as if she didn’t see you many times in your life. Her gloved hands are resting on her thighs while she looks up at you. Her eyes hold yours for a moment before she nods toward the table. “Go ahead and lie back for me. Alright, just gonna have a look, okay? We’ll take it slow.” Your legs feel like there’s added weight to them when you shift because it feels harder to do it. You slide down back until your shoulders meet the soft fabric. It feels comfortable under you. It clings to your skin where your thighs touch it too. The edge of the gown rubs against your skin when you clutch it tighter.

The heat head moves up until it reaches your neck and spreads all around your chest while the beat is hammering in your cunt. The soreness is pulsing when you shift your hips. She waits for you with calmness in her eyes. Just watching you get comfortable and settle before she goes closer. Her gloved hands creak softly when she adjusts her grip ok the edge of the table. “You’re doing good. Take a deep breath for me.” Tashi rolls closer on the stool, stopping just in front of the table while she looks at you. She’s steady and her eyes stay soft for you. Not even rushing because she can feel the embarrassment and nervousness coming from you. She just let you take a breath that shakes when it leaves your lips.

You can feel the cloth under you is getting warmer now which you prefer it that way. It feels soft where it presses against your thighs. This will be at the top of the pyramid of your most embarrassing experiences you do in life. It’s embarrassing to the point that even the edge of the gown just brushes against you when you shift, it's already making you uncomfortable and want to go six feet under. “Can you open your legs for me?” Her voice is gentle and softer than the cool air that moves across your skin. To the point it sinks into the quietness of the clinic while you shut yourself and swallow your shame. You can feel your body heating up while you open your legs for her slowly. The fabric of your gown slides down and it reveals your soft inner thighs and the pare skin that’s tender when it moves.

Your cunt feels exposed, the cool air brushing over your folds, making you clench around nothing when your legs settle open. “That’s it,” she mutters. She looked down for a second before quickly looking up like she didn’t just do that. Her eyes are now on your face and her hands are resting on her lap. She leans closer to take a closer look. You can smell the soft expensive scent from her soap that mixes with the sterile air. “Is it alright if I take a look?” she asks like it’s just confirming because she knows she needs to look for her to know what’s happening. Shaky breathing left your lips and fingers clutching anxiously at the gown tighter over your stomach before you gave her a nod. You look away because you might melt and cancel this if you hold her gaze. “Yeah,” you manage to say, your voice low. She leans forward, her eyes scanning down, looking carefully without touching yet. The soft hum of the lights above fills the room while she checks, her eyes tracing the lines of your slit, the puffy folds that still feel swollen, the small glisten where your slick has gathered without you meaning for it to.

“Thank you for letting me look,” she says softly before sitting back. You don’t know what's making you melt if you're honest. Her voice? Her words? Her look at you? Maybe it’s all the three. You feel her hands adjust on her own thighs while her thumbs tap before she glances back up at your face. “Would it be alright if I touched, just to see where it hurts?” That made your breath catch. Heat pools in your belly and spreads until it sends a pulse in your pussy. The soreness is still there but now it’s drowning in slickness and something warm. Legs shifting and opening a little more for her without meaning to. Like you don’t even know you are presenting yourself to her. The gown slips more to your thighs while you nod as an answer. Teeth caught on your lower lip before you managed to say, “Okay.”

“Let me know if anything hurts too much, or if you want to stop,” she assures you, and waits for you to nod or say something to her before she can proceed. Hand shifting and moving slowly until it came in front of your cunt. Just hovering above it and not touching. It might be some sort of magic but she feels your warmth from your skin reaching hers before she even can put her hand down directly to your pussy. She doesn’t know how, but maybe it’s just the tension that makes her feel it. The muscles in your thighs tighten when her she lowers her hand and her fingers brush lightly against your outer lip. There’s a soft gasp that slips from your lip. The touch is gentle. It’s not pushing. It’s just enough to feel the heat there.

“Does it hurt when I touch you here?” Her voice is calm when she asks you. Her fingers glide to the puffy lips of your pussy. Just tracing a line at the softness without pressing it forward. Your breath shakes and your bones feel tense with your hip shifts. Fingers slide over the spot that feels too sensitive at the moment. So the soreness flares before it goes back to the warm throb feeling. “A little,” you whisper. The word barely leaves your mouth.

She hums as an acknowledgement of your answer. A low sound that vibrates in the quiet room with her eyes still focused on your cunt while her fingers continue to work. It’s not heavy. It’s careful and light like she doesn’t want it to hurt. Just tracing the slick that is gathering at the edge of your folds.“And here?” she asks to check if you feel any discomfort with her fingers brushing higher. It’s closer to your clit but she’s not touching it yet. It’s like just skimming along the crease where your thigh meets your pussy. Legs twitching because of that and made you release a small whimper too before you could swallow it back to your throat. It also clenched again around nothing and she saw it happen.

“Nnngh- feels weird,” you let out a whimper you didn’t even realize it because you had to answer her. Your fingers were wrapped and gripping on the edge of the gown. It’s so hard that it gave the fabric wrinkles. “It’s okay,” Tashi assures you with her low and steady voice. She looks up for a few seconds just to check if you are doing okay there. It didn’t take long before he looked back away to move down to your body and watch how it reacts under her touch. “You’re doing good.” Her fingers move back down, sliding along your slit, pressing a little firmer without going inside, testing how your body moves under her hand.

The warmth of your cunt spreads around her gloved fingers, your hips lifting slightly when she reaches the most tender spot, the soreness biting for a second before it fades into that soft, warm throb again. “Tell me if it’s too much,” she says, her thumb brushing over the soft mound above your clit, not pressing, just resting there while her fingers trace the puffy lips of your pussy, exploring the shape of you under her hand.

Tashi moves close and the stool moves along with it. The sound of the wheels stopping as she settles much closer and her gloved fingers pause on your inner thighs. The heat of your flesh met the coldness from the latex as she takes a deep breath with her eyes focused but at the same time, she looks like she’s thinking about what she should do. At this point, the gown is not doing anything to cover your body and it leaves you open to her eyes. Folds still glisten under the light of the room each time your hips twitch. “Can you relax your legs a bit more for me?” she asks, her voice can already be considered a whisper how low and soft it is. Warmth rushes across your cheeks as your knees fall to the side wider for her.

She asks, her voice soft, just above a whisper. Heat rushes across your chest while your knees fall wider, thighs opening under her watchful eyes, the soft skin of your folds spreading a little more. The air hits the wetness gathered there, making your cunt clench around nothing, a small gasp leaving your lips. “Good, thank you.” Her eyes trace the shape of your slit before she lets her gloved hand move, fingers gently touching the outer lips, spreading them just enough to look.

The latex drags lightly over your folds, parting them, letting the softer, pinker skin inside catch the light. Slick gathers at the edge, coating her glove, a soft string breaking when her fingers pull back slightly. “I need to ask a few questions, okay?” Her tone stays calm, but her eyes lift to yours, waiting for your nod before she continues. “When you had sex, was it difficult for him to enter you?” Her eyes flicker down again, thumb brushing the edge of your mound, spreading your folds wider. Your throat feels dry, a flush creeping higher across your chest.

“Um,” you start, your voice too soft, so you swallow, blinking hard. “It took a while.” A soft hum leaves her, like she’s taking note. Her fingers slide down your slit, tracing where your slick clings. It stops just before your clit while letting you oak into the glove. “Was it painful the whole time, or did it get easier?” she asks as her fingertips brush the edges of your folds. She spreads them gently so she can see how you twitch under her touch. “It hurt,” you whisper in a tight voice. Your hips are shifting against the table and pussy is pulsing as her finger slides lower. “It was… sore the whole time.”

“Did you feel pressure, like it was too much?” Her voice is calm, but her eyes stay focused on your cunt. She watches the way you clench each time her fingers glide over the swollen skin. Your lips part, breath catching. “Yeah.” Her finger circles the opening without pushing in, testing how your folds part around her glove. “Did you feel him hitting deep inside, or was it more at the entrance?” she asks. Your face heated up before your eyes look away. Just staring at the ceiling while you try to find words. “More at the entrance,” you say, and voice small. Breath shaking when her finger drags across the spot that feels tender.

“Thank you for telling me,” she says softly. Her thumb brushes your inner thigh, grounding you as she looks back up for a moment, holding your gaze before she glances back down at your open, glistening cunt. “I need to check inside to see if there’s any tearing or swelling that didn’t go down.” Her hand lifts slightly hovering over your pussy. Your skin is heated, but not enough to feel the cool air between her glove and your slit. Don’t forget how your chest feels, as it makes it hard for you to breathe. Your legs are spreading a little more without thinking. Your cunt is pulsing with each quiet breath you take.

“Will it be okay if I put a finger in?” she asks while pretending this is all just a normal assessment. Her eyes are steady as she waits for your answer. Your throat bobs, and a soft, embarrassed sound slips out before you can swallow it down. The soreness between your thighs throbs, but the thought of her finger inside you sends a wave of heat down your belly. It’s pooling low that makes your hips twitch. “Okay,” is the only thing you can say and it’s just a very unsure quiet whisper. It’s barely louder than the air conditioner in this room but she managed to hear it. How can she be a doctor if she’s not going to listen to her patient, right? Tashi nods once before reaching for the small bottle of lube on the tray beside her. The cap clicks open with a soft pop. Clear gel glistening as it drips onto her glove, catching the light before it rolls down her palm.

“Thank you for letting me know,” she says as she rubs the lube between her fingers. The slick sounds fill the space before she brings her hand back down toward your open, waiting cunt. The lube glistens over Tashi’s gloved fingertips, dripping in a clear string before she rubs it in, coating her index and middle fingers until they shine under the bright lights. Her eyes stay on your pussy, the gown pushed so high it doesn’t even cover your hips anymore, your thighs trembling slightly with every breath you take.

“Let’s take this slow, okay?” Her voice is soft like she’s done this a thousand times. The way her eyes drag over your folds feels heavier than it should. Her thumb settles near the top of your slit before. Pressing down just enough to expose your clit. The hood pulls back as the cool air rushes over the sensitive spot. The sudden contact makes your hips twitch. One embarrassing sound leaves your throat. “Shh, it’s okay,” she assures you, but the smirk forming in her mouth says otherwise. It didn’t stay long on her face, though.

She thumbs your clit lightly and softly. It’s careful and gentle circles. Just testing how you react. The friction is soft but direct, making the tightness in your belly pull tighter as your cunt clenches, wetness gathering at your opening, dripping onto the fabric beneath you. “Does that feel sore, or just sensitive?” Her voice stays calm, as if she’s just taking notes, her thumb circling again, pressing a little more firmly, making your back arch off the table. Your breath leaves you shaky. “Sensitive,” you whisper with your face hot. Hands gripping the edge of the gown to keep them from flying to cover yourself.

“That’s normal,” she says as her thumb flicks a little faster. It drags slick across your clit as it swells under her touch. “Your body is just responding.” A soft breathy noise slips from your lips. The rising of your neck. “It’s… too much,” you say. Hips shifting as you try to keep still, but her thumb just keeps moving. Continuing to spread your slick higher across your folds. “It’s alright.” Her tone is even, but her eyes stay focused on how your pussy glistens each time her thumb drags over your clit. She watches the way your cunt twitches with each pass.

“You’re doing good.” Her other hand lifts, lube glistening as she holds her finger just over your opening, letting a drop drip down onto your slit, the coolness making your thighs jump. She rubs it in with her thumb, smearing it over your clit one last time before she shifts lower. “Does your mother know you’re here?” she asks like she’s gauging for a reaction. Her voice is casual, the one she uses when you both see each other at gatherings. The question makes your eyes snap open. Your throat catches your breath, and you are not letting it get out. Your lips part, but nothing comes out for a second. Heat floods your face, your chest rising, and falling too quickly as you try to find your voice.

“No,” you whisper before your gaze darts away. “I figured,” she says, thumb pressing gently against your inner thigh, keeping you open. “It’s okay. It’s good you came in to get checked.” She tests the water by her finger circling at your opening. She gathers the mixed lube with slick and she pauses to look up at you. Just waiting for you to notice she’s looking at you before she speaks. “I’m going to put one finger inside of you, and I’ll be gentle. Tell me if it hurts, okay?”

The words feel heavy. It sinks into the quiet between the soft sounds of your breathing and the wetness gathering at your cunt. Your thighs tremble. Hips pressing down into the table as your body betrays the nerves swirling in your chest. “Okay,” you said to her like you are giving control to her over your body. It’s barely louder than a breath. She nods once, her eyes dropping back to your pussy as she presses her fingertip against your entrance. The lube makes it easy for her to slide in slowly, and the stretch makes your walls flutter around her as she pushes deeper to test how much you can take.

“That’s it,” she says quietly, watching the way your folds cling to her glove, the way your cunt pulls her finger in as she sinks it deeper, pausing halfway to let you breathe. A soft, choked sound leaves your lips, your hips lifting slightly as your pussy clenches around her finger, the wetness making everything louder, slick sounds filling the small space as she holds still. “Doing good,” she says, her voice calm, pretending it’s just another exam as her thumb shifts back up, brushing lightly over your clit while her finger curls gently inside, checking for the tenderness you told her about.

Your breath breaks, hips twitching again, the heat in your belly curling tighter while your pussy throbs around her finger, clit pulsing each time her thumb brushes over it, making you clamp down on her finger before you can stop yourself. “It’s normal,” she says with her thumb moving again. It’s circling your clit softly as her finger curls just enough to press against that tender spot inside. “Your body’s just responding, that’s all.” Tashi pushes her finger in deeper, the slow stretch making your pussy flutter around her glove, walls tightening before you can stop it.

The lube makes it easy for her to slide in fully, her palm pressing against your mound as her thumb settles back over your clit, rubbing it in small, careful circles. A soft, choked sound slips from your lips. “Nnngh-” Your hips lift off the table, thighs trembling as her finger curls inside, pressing along your walls, testing how you react with each small movement. The wet sounds fill the room, slick dripping down to the fabric beneath you.

“Breathe,” she says softly. Her thumb is dragging over your clit. She’s pressing down just enough to make you gasp again. Her eyes stay focused on your cunt to watch the way your folds cling to her finger, and how your clit twitches under her touch. She starts a slow rhythm. Finger dragging out before sliding back in, and curling just a little deeper each time. The pressure inside builds in waves that make your thighs shake. The warmth in your belly is tightening with each stroke.

“Do you touch yourself?” she asks like she’s just checking another box on a form. Your breath stutters. The question hits harder than it should as heat rises up your neck. “I-” Your voice breaks, so you swallow, blinking up at the ceiling. “Only did it… twice.” Her thumb circles your clit again, pressing softly as her finger pushes in deeper, the heel of her palm brushing against your mound with each slow thrust. “Only twice?” Your hips twitch and press down against her hand even as your mind screams at you to stop.

“I didn’t… try again,” you whisper. It’s clearly evident how embarrassed you feel and it burns in your chest. “That’s alright,” she says as she continues to flick and rub lightly at your clit. The small motion sends a shock through your body. It’s making your pussy clench hard around her finger. “It’s normal to be curious.” A small broken moan escapes your throat with your thighs clamping shut around her hand as your cunt throbs around her finger. The pressure inside building too quickly. “Ah- mmn-”

“Easy,” she says, her voice still soft, her free hand pressing against your thigh, gently urging you to open again. “I need to keep checking you, okay? Just relax for me.” Your legs hesitate. You are holding tight around her wrist for a moment before you force them to fall open again. The cool air rushes over your slick folds as her finger curls inside. She’s pressing against a spot that makes your hips jolt. “That’s it,” she says, pressing her thumb against your clit again to rub in slow circles as her finger moves deeper. The wet, soft sounds fill the small room each time your pussy clenches down around her.

A small breathy whimper slips out. “Mmf-” Her eyes never leaving the way your folds spread open around her glove, your slit glistening under the bright lights. “Just like that,” she says, her voice steady. “Your body is just responding. It’s completely normal.” Her finger drags out slowly before pushing back in, thumb pressing down against your clit each time her hand rocks forward, sending heat pooling low in your belly. Your breaths come in soft, shaky gasps, hips rolling without you meaning to, chasing the friction each time her thumb circles your clit, each time her finger pushes in deep.

“Hah- ahhn-” Your hand flies to your mouth, trying to muffle the soft, needy sounds spilling out, but it only makes the heat in your cheeks burn hotter. “It’s alright,” she says, her voice calm, thumb pressing down a little firmer as her finger curls inside, pressing against the spot that makes your pussy clamp down again, the slick sounds louder as wetness gathers around her glove. “This is just part of the exam.” Wet sounds fill the room each time her finger sinks back in, her thumb circling your clit just enough to keep your hips moving against her hand. Heat builds in your lower belly as each slow drag of her glove inside makes your thighs tense.

Moan slips out when her finger curls to press against a spot that sends a wave of pressure up your spine. You clamp your hand over your mouth to try to swallow the next sound, but it still leaks out as a muffled “mmf- ngh-” Her voice cuts through the quiet. “Did he use his fingers on you before you had sex?” Your eyes snap open, heat flooding your cheeks. “Um-” Her thumb sliding down to press lower, almost touching your opening before gliding back up to your clit. “It’s okay,” she says.

Her finger drags out, slow, almost to the tip, before sliding back in, making your pussy throb around her glove. “I… I don’t think so,” you manage to whisper, staring at the ceiling, trying not to look at her, your hips still rocking down, chasing the friction even though you’re too embarrassed to stop. “Hmm.” She hums softly, thumb rubbing a slow circle over your clit while her finger presses deeper. “Sometimes it helps to prepare you, so it doesn’t hurt as much.” Your lips part, another soft whine slipping out as your walls flutter around her finger. “Nnn- ah-”

“Did he go slow, or did he just… push in?” she asks, her voice staying calm, as if this is a normal part of the check-up. Your thighs tremble, the warmth pooling between your legs turning heavier, thicker, each small touch making your cunt clench down around her finger. “I- I don’t know, it hurt.” She nods, her eyes fixed on the way your folds spread around her glove, watching how slick they gathers at the edges, dripping down to the fabric beneath you. Her thumb presses a little harder against your clit, dragging in a slow circle that makes your hips jerk.

“That’s alright,” she says, her finger curling inside, pressing again against the spot that makes your breath catch. A soft, shocked gasp leaves your throat, your thighs starting to close around her wrist as the pressure inside you builds, each movement of her thumb making it harder to keep quiet. “It’s okay, I just need to check a bit deeper,” she says, and before you can register it, another finger presses against your entrance, the cool lube making it slide in easily, stretching you wider.

A high, breathy moan tears out, “Ah- nghh-” Your hips jump. “Does it hurt?” she asks, her tone steady, eyes flicking up to watch your face while her fingers sink in fully, spreading you around them. A wave of heat floods your chest, your pussy pulsing around the stretch. “N-no,” you breathe out, the word catching as her thumb rubs over your clit again, the added pressure making your back arch. “Good,” she murmurs as her fingers move in a slow rhythm. Keep dragging out before pushing back in. Her thumb is keeping a steady pressure on your clit as she works you open.

Wet sounds mix with your quiet breathy whimpers. The table crinkles under your shifting hips each time her fingers curl. It’s pressing against that tender spot inside of you that makes your thighs tremble. Hand gripping hard at the edge of the table, which makes your knuckles white. On the other hand, your mouth is covered to muffle the soft, helpless sounds spilling out as your cunt tightens around her fingers. Slick dripping down with each slow thrust. “Relax your legs for me,” she says with her thumb brushing over your clit. It’s making your hips twitch.

It’s hard to keep them open, especially when your thighs instinctively try to close around her wrist as your body tenses. You feel it deep, and it’s new to you, considering you only did it a few times. It’s overwhelming with the way she presses and how her thumb keeps resisting your clit. “I need you to stay open so I can check properly,” she murmurs calmly but her fingers didn’t stop. You can hear the wet sounds come from you as she keeps sliding it in and out. The pressure is building in your stomach and is so close to bursting. Breathing comes in short and soft pants with your thighs shaking. You really try your best to keep them open but they keep closing. The beating below just keeps getting worse because her thumb circles your clit with each slow thrust of her fingers.

“Mm- ah- mmph-” The sounds slip out no matter how hard you try to stay quiet, your eyes squeezing shut as the wave inside you keeps climbing, your pussy clenching around her fingers, slick making it easier for her to keep moving, each small movement sending sparks of pleasure through your lower belly. Tashi’s fingers keep moving inside. It’s slow and steady and pressing deep each time they sink in. Her thumb circles your clit and rubs just enough to keep the tension building. The heat low in your belly grows thicker and heavier, until it feels like you can’t hold it in anymore.

Wet sounds fill the room. It mixes with your soft, helpless whimpers each time your hips rock down. You’re chasing the friction even as embarrassment burns across your chest. “Hah- ngh- mmph-” The sounds slip out as your hand clamps over your mouth. Your eyes squeeze shut while your pussy continues to suck her fingers in. The wetness between your legs is just an advantage for her to easily push it in deeper and hit the spot that will make your thighs shake.

“It’s alright,” she talks you through it while her thumb continues to circle in a way that makes your back arch. Your hips twitching as the pressure builds, your body trembling, your toes curl. The warmth flooding your cheeks as your pussy pulsing around her fingers and breath coming out in short shaky pants. The wave inside you climbs higher and pushes until it breaks all at once. A soft, broken cry tears out from behind your hand. “Nn- ah- ahhnn- !”

Your legs clamp shut around her wrist to trap her hand there while your cunt tightens. Pulsing hard around her fingers as slick drips out and wetting your thighs and her glove. Your body shakes even every nerve alive as the orgasm rushes through you. The feeling leaves you gasping moaning mess as your hips grind down against her hand. You’re chasing every last drop. You can’t look at her because your hands are covering your face. Doing that to try to quiet the sounds, but your body keeps trembling. Thighs pressed tight together and keeping her fingers inside as your pussy flutters around them.

“Shhh,” she says softly with her fingers stilling. She lets you ride it out while you hide your face and breath catching with each small aftershock. Shame crawls up your spine as the guilt is heavy in your chest and your legs stay locked around her wrist. It’s trapping her there. “I’m- I’m sorry-” The words break. Muffled behind your hands and eyes squeezed shut, too humiliated to look at her. Tashi’s voice stays calm and almost gentle. “It’s okay. You’re not the first one this happened to, and you won’t be the last.”

That caught you off guard especially how she said it. It makes your breath stutter as your thighs are still trembling. Cunt pulsing weakly around her gloved fingers. Wetness is dripping down on the fabric under you. “It’s normal,” she says in a soft voice. Her thumb brushes lightly over your thigh. She pulls her fingers out carefully while you keep your face covered, your body still shaking, the slick from your cunt coating her glove, shining under the light. The sound of the glove stretching as she moves fills the quiet room. She glances at the mess coating her glove, lifting it to her mouth when she knows you’re too busy hiding to see.

Her tongue drags over the slick latex that makes her eyes half-lidded for a moment as she tastes it. The faint salt and sweetness mix on her tongue before she licks it clean. It’s slow. She’s savoring it before pulling the glove off and tossing it into the bin. Your legs stay shut tight, face still hidden, and breath coming out in shaky huffs. Tashi’s hands find your knees, prying them open again with calm pressure. She looks down at your pussy and can see the the folds puffy and glistening. It’s still twitching softly under the light.

“See?” she says. Her voice is low but clear as her eyes watch the slow drip of slick from your swollen cunt. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything looks healthy.” Your face stays hidden behind your hands, breath still shaky while your legs remain open, the gown bunched around your waist. Slick drips down your folds. Sticking to your thighs. It’s like a warm, and humiliating reminder of what just happened. A soft rustle comes from beside you as Tashi grabs a few tissues. The sound of the box crinkling in her hand.

She moves closer with her hand brushing your knee. Pausing for a moment before she starts wiping between your thighs. “It’s okay,” she says calmly as if she’s done this a hundred times. The tissue drags across your pussy. Warm wetness smears before it’s cleaned away. Each swipe is careful, and slow. She’s making sure to catch every drop. “You’re alright.” The touch is gentle, but it makes your cunt twitch. Your breath catches in your throat as she cleans around your folds. She continues wiping the mess off your skin.

Heat surrounds your neck like a collar while you squeeze your eyes tighter. You try not to let out any more sounds. “You did good,” she says quietly before folding the tissue and reaching to clean the last bit of slick pooling near your slit before dropping it in the trash. You stay frozen, face still hidden, and your thighs pressing together once she’s done. She lets you close your legs. Her hand is giving your knee a small squeeze. Heat still burns in your face while your legs stay open. The gown pushed up around your waist while leaving your cunt sticky and swollen under the light. “If the pain continues, message me, okay?” Her voice drops softer, almost warm, a small smile in it you can’t see. “Or call me. I’ll take care of you.”

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⠀⠀⠀twenty-twenty-five © addie / musingsofheaven.

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[sapphirelightningbug]

Mother Knows Best [Adrian Chase x Reader]

Literally couldn’t get a photo of his mother from the trailer to save my life

DC Masterlist | Request Rules

Summary: Adrian’s mom thinks you’re dating her son, especially because of how much he talks about you.

Word Count: 1.5k

Content Warnings: Course language, Suggestive language, mentions of murder, Adrian is a whole warning himself

Comment if you'd like to be tagged in future works!

Taglist in the comments!

You and Adrian had met when you were working with Peacemaker and the rest of the 11th Street Kids. You'd found him strange at first; his obsession with Chris was different. It was obvious he had some issues, not that you thought poorly of him because of it, but he had some social problems. He didn't really have a filter, and he could be crass. Still, you became friends cause, like Adebayo said, he was a good guy. You’d been hanging out at Adrian’s house all day; he’d had the day off, and you decided to come over. Adrian lived with his mom, who'd been at work; his brother had moved out a few years prior, and his parents had divorced a long time ago. She decided having Adrian around wouldn't be too bad; he cleaned up around the house and took care of everything well. You were lying back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Fargo was playing on the big box TV that sat in the corner of his room. Adrian had a lot of old stuff in his room. He was lying behind you on his back, with his head in his hands, his arms crossed behind him. You both heard the keys unlocking the front door, he shot up, and you moved to get up and look at him. “Is that your mom?” You asked, yawning and stretching your eyes, meeting his bespectacled ones. Blue eyes stared back with a little bit of panic. “What?” You looked at him, confused, hands grasping into the cream colored bedspread you sat upon. “You just haven't met my mom,” he explains. You nod. “Yeah, but it's not that big of an issue, I can meet her now,” you smile. “Unless you don't want me to?” You look at him suspiciously, and he stares back with that same dumb puppy dog expression. Adrian’s mom shouts his name from downstairs. “Alright, Chase, let's get down there before she comes up here and suspects the worst.” He chuckles. "If I were fucking you, she would know," there he is again with his crass statements and nonexistent filter. You rolled your eyes, used to it at this point. "You aren't getting this pussy, even if you were to beg for it," You retorted, always trying to keep him on his toes. "I don't beg." His voice was tight, and you knew there was something there. "Yeah, and Aquaman doesn't fuck fish." You raised your eyebrow, waiting for him to challenge, but he grinned. "I knew you believed me!" You shake your head at his antics; it was all so stupid. The two of you bounced off each other so well. "Alright, let's get this over with." You stood making your way over to the door, bare toes sinking into the soft carpet beneath you. You placed your hands on your hips, waiting for him to get up. He groaned and joined you at the door, sweatshirt and loose jeans drooping off of his lanky body as he walked. You pushed him in front of you so his mom wouldn't see you first, and he swatted at your hand. The floor transitioned to hardwood from carpet leaving his room. The stairs had a runner rug on them. Stepping down the first few steps, you grabbed the wooden handrail and followed Adrian down. When you stepped into the kitchen at his side and saw the brunette woman, she had placed her brown leather purse down onto the laminate countertop. She wasn't paying attention when the two had entered the room, so when she looked up, she was startled. "Mrs. Chase, it's really lovely to meet you." You smile, "I don't mean to intrude." Her face changes from a look of confusion to a grin. "Oh, you aren't intruding, darling. You must be (Y/N). Adrian talks about you a lot." You turn back to him with your eyebrows knitted as if to ask, 'What's that about?' He makes a stupid face that makes you crack up. "He talks about me, huh?" You chuckle, and she nods. "Yeah, I have a hard time getting him to stop when he starts." Your smile only grows, and he begins to get embarrassed. His mom turns to him, her deep red lips parting when she says, "She is as pretty as you'd described." His face heats up. "Shut up, Ma," He's a tomato at this point, and you can't help but let out a snort.

"No, please, Mrs. Chase, keep going. You said he was talking about me being beautiful?" Adrian groaned, and you shoved his arm playfully. "Yes, he always talks about you. I'm really glad you make my son so happy." That one confused you. Did she think you two were together? "Alright, ma, thank you for that. We are gonna go back upstairs. You cannot follow us," He grabbed your arm and dragged you back upstairs. "It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Chase!" You were barely able to get it out before he got you all the way upstairs. You honestly forgot how strong he was. It made your stomach twist when he manhandled you like that. Once he got you to his room, you flung yourself onto his bed. "Okay, what the fuck was that?" "That? Pfft- That was nothing!" He brushed it off with an uncomfortable look on his face. He stood in front of you, about two feet of distance between you. “Your mom definitely thinks we're dating,” he looks confused. “She didn't say that,” he thought over the conversation. “It was implied,” you raise your eyebrow, waiting to see how he would defend himself next. “I hate when people do that implied stuff,” He groaned, frustrated. “So what are you gonna do about that?” He was tense, and for the first time ever, he didn’t have a witty comeback. “I don’t think it’s such a bad idea,” he stares down at his hands. “I mean, you know I like you, I tell you all the time,” he swallows, almost nervous for your reaction. He wrings his hands as he waits for a response. “I thought you meant like friends, not like a relationship.” You look at him, and he looks uncomfortable; it wasn’t something you were used to. “Not that I’m not okay with that, uh, I think you’re really cool and, I like you too!” He looks up excited. “You do?” He was bouncing on his heels. His quick change of emotions almost gives you whiplash. “Why didn’t you say so?” You smirk at his excitement. He moved to sit next to you on the bed. “You know it’s not as easy for some people to admit their feelings.” “You knew I’d like you, though,” he took your hand in his and began trailing shapes over it. “I mean, it’s me, you know me!” “I have to admit you intimidate me a little when it comes to this romantic stuff.” his eyebrows furrowed, and he looked around and then down at himself. “Me? I intimidate you?” You were right, you sounded silly. Despite his violent streak as Vigilante, he would never hurt you or your friends. He was about as intimidating as a five-pound chihuahua. “I guess it’s just like, you’re so open emotionally, and I don’t 100% know how to react to that all the time,” you looked uncertain, but he seemed to understand.

"I don't know what to say, so I'm gonna kiss you now, is that okay?" You nod, and he leans in; he doesn't have so much experience with emotional and physical intimacy. That's not to say he's a virgin or has never been with a woman. As Vigilante, he fucks around with Chris and whatever girls he has around; he just wasn't used to someone liking him as well, Adrian. He captures your lips between his. It's oddly endearing how nervous he seems to be. The kiss lasts longer than you expected. One of his hands rests at your waist while the other is tangled in your hair. He gets sloppy with it after a few seconds, and eventually, he pulls back. He pushes his glasses back up his face. "That was awesome," He grins, and you look at him, smirking at his antics. He peels himself from you and brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face. "You're a dork," You snort, and he laughs too. "So I was thinking for our first date we could go kill a couple of guys I've been looking into, real shitheads, racist assholes." You grin, and he looks excited. You've only been able to kill people together when it came to the butterflies. "Does one of them happen to be Chris' father?" Adrian shakes his head. "Unfortunately, no, but I think some of these incest ridden crack babies with fetal alcohol syndrome would probably support him, so good enough?" "Yeah, good enough." You grab his hand, and he almost blushes. "Oh my god, you cannot blush from some hand holding after the crap you say!" "What? I like you, you're like hot!"

[bullet-prooflove]

Cold Brew: John Shen x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @miraclesabound @cannonindeez @nommingonfood @yousigned-upforthis

Summary: You and John finally find time for a conversation.

Companion piece to:

Ashes - You take revenge on the first man your parents sold you to.

The Choice - In the wake of his brother’s suicide John goes against his parents’ wishes and makes a choice about his residency.

You Should See Me In A Crown - A chance encounter sparks the beginning of something special for John.

Dick Pics - You and John discuss your dating life in the ambulance bay during a rare shift break.

Brunch - John refuses to give up when you miss brunch with him.

Silly Little Boys (NSFW) - John's not like the other men you've been with.

In The Summer - You discover John's secret.

Tiger, Tiger - John reveals the truth between his engagement and his history.

Jack - John's mother opens up old wounds by giving John a copy of your DCFS file.

Bare (NSFW) - John and you commit to each other in a special way.

The Shirt - Jack realises that you're wearing a boyfriend shirt.

Tradition - Mrs Shen makes a decision regarding the wedding.

Daywalker - You and John discuss something that could cause a big change in your relationship.

The Wedding Gift - John’s dad brings out the worst in him.

Pandora’s Box - John realises he’s opened up Pandora’s Box when his brother pays a visit.

Fucked Up - You take care of John when he starts to have doubts.

His Fucked Up Wang - John’s forced to treat your ex when he’s rolled into the ED.

The Other Man - John discovers something that may effect your future together.

Princess Cut - You find something unexpected inside John’s sock drawer.

The Broken Girl - The best night of your life turns into one of the worst when your plans are disrupted.

The Rooftop - John and Jack finally talk about what happened at the party.

My Love Always - A simple card makes you reach out to one of the most important people in your life.

There’s a coffee on the table.

A cold brew to be precise.

It’s sits in the centre of the breakroom, John’s name written on a small folded piece of white paper propped up in front of it. The edges of his mouth tip up into a small smile as he picks it up, his thumb tracing over your handwriting.

The two of you have been trying to catch up over the past few days, talk things out face to face. The problem is with you working the day shift and him on nights you haven’t been able to coordinate a time to make it happen. At this point he’s ready to turn up at the fire station and have the conversation in the turn out room if he has to.

He sighs, grasping the cold brew, sipping from the straw as he escorts it outside to the ambulance bay where he still takes his breaks. He knows it’s dumb but he enjoys the familiarity of the place, the proximity to what the two of you used to have before it got all screwed up.

He can’t believe his eyes when he sees you sitting there on that wall. The coffee cup slips from his hand, hitting the pavement and spattering cool liquid up the front of his scrubs.

“Fuck.” He says and you turn your head towards him, your mouth hanging open as you take in the soaked fabric.

You’re already on your feet striding towards him before he can even begin to consider how to deal with the mess. “What on earth…”

“I saw you and I...” He gestures at the plastic coffee cup rolling around by his feet. “I’m just surprised to find you out here.”

“I was trying to get the courage to come back in.” You say softy, clasping your hands in front of you. The engagement ring flashes in the overhead lights and John can’t express how much it means to him that you’re still wearing it. “It turns out I’m kinda scared of how this conversation is going to go.”

He reaches out, taking your hand in his, his thumb tracing over the token of his love.

“Nothing’s changed.” He assures you, his onyx gaze capturing yours. “I’m still as in love with you as I’ve always been, I just didn’t want you to regret marrying me. Jack is so important to you-”

“You’re important to me too.” You whisper, squeezing his fingers. “The way I acted, it wasn’t really about you or Jack. It was about me sabotaging myself because I didn’t feel like I deserved to be so happy. I’m in therapy now, I’m doing the work. I just… I know I fucked things up for us-”

“You didn’t.” John promises you. “You needed to take a breather Cici, and that’s what you did. I don’t blame you for that. I just hope we can move on it, maybe enjoy being engaged for a while if that is something you still want.”

“I do want that.” You tell him, releasing his hands so you can wrap your arms around his waist. The coffee starts to soak through into your clothes but you don’t care because John’s drawing you closer, gathering you to him as if you never left.

“Good.” John murmurs, his lips brushing over your temple. “Because I want that too.”

Love John? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[rosenclaws]

Head canon for me please? It's a difficult one and I apologize. Feel free to not answer at all. That's completely ok. 110% ok if you don't want to. It's just personal and Logan's my comfort character so I thought I'd ask. How would Logan navigate, take care of and love you knowing your previous relationship was abusive? You're now too scared to ever say no, even though you know deep down he'd understand. You hide your anxiety as best you can. You're totally non-confrontational and have a panic attack whenever things get tense. You try your best but are convinced it's never good enough. You're a people pleaser even when it costs you. You know Logan is the best of men, but feel you're not good enough for him.

Hi im so sorry this took so long but I hope it helps a little bit

Origins Logan -

He’s the softest of them all. He’s lived through a lot and I think he’d be very understanding. Logan understands what its like to be afraid and he doesn’t ever want you to be afraid of him. He’s patient. Kind. Deep down Logan will always be a troubled man but he tries. You tell him he’s the best of men but he’s only like that for you.

Logan remembers the important things. He understands what sets you off and does his best to avoid it. Sometimes you still get anxious and thats okay. He lets you feel what you have to and sticks by your side through it. He loves you.

Trilogy Logan + DOFP Logan -

I’m going to be honest Logan doesn’t love easy. He will make mistakes and he’ll act without thinking. But the very idea of hurting you makes him feel sick. He can read you like the back of his hand. He sees the quirks in your face when you’re scared and he sees the signs. He wont always know what to do but he’ll try his hardest to.

He sees kids at the mansion who have been through similar things and he’s nothing but calm and caring. He can be a jerk sometimes but not with this. Never about this. You can trust him. He’ll make sure you understand that every day.

Old Man Logan -

Old man Logan is liked a wounded animal sometimes. But if theres one thing he understands its your past haunting you. He’s never judgmental. He gets it. He’s not the softest Logan and he’s not great at being nice but he will love and care for you in his own way. You are the kindness in the world that deserves to shine and he makes sure of it. He curses whoever tried to snuff it out. He’ll fan your flames until you’re shining brighter than the sky.

He might have his outbursts but he’ll always come back and tell you its never your fault. He’s a sad broken man and you are the only good thing about him. He will listen and he will love the best he can.

Worst Logan -

It burns him to his core to see you afraid or upset. Logan has a second chance and he will dedicate it to making you feel loved and secure. You make him want to be a better man and he will do whatever it takes to make sure you inow that. He helps guide you through the world. Offering you the support and love you need while also pushing you to stand up for yourself. He won’t make you do it on your own but he will be right there to help you. Silently supporting you in anyway he can. He can read your face and he promises every damn day that you are so loved and you never have to be afraid of him. Of anything or anyone anymore.

You’re safe. You’re strong. You are so much more than you could ever believe.

[callikari]

last chance ──── 🎀 sim jaeyun x 𝑓!𝑟 ꒰ ꒱ྀི angst lots of crying yearning ..? for @orimuraa writing event

i rushed this in the car and didn't try at alllll I'M SORRYYYY !!! hope you guys enjoy though > <

it had been a week.

seven days.

but somehow, it feels longer than all the weeks you spent with him combined.

it’s funny how time extends when your heart aches.

how everything feels a bit quieter when his absence is so much more louder than his presence ever was.

he stills texts

he still calls

you still don’t answer.

and it’s not because you want to punish him, it’s because you know that if you hear his soft voice again, you’ll shatter all over again.

on the seventh day after the incident, the universe decided to play a trick on you.

you see him, standing by your locker.

it’s not planned, nor staged.

it’s past the school day, the building emptied out.

no friends around him, no mask, no nothing.

just him.

when his eyes meet yours, you can physically feel it in your chest.

your heart practically dropping.

the bone aching, gut deep ache that comes from you knowing “this boy was not supposed to mean this much to you,”

but he does.

he looks absolutely exhausted, like he hasn’t been sleeping.

the weight of all of this is finally too heavy for him to carry.

he watches you walk over, not speaking right away.

“i’m sorry” he says, for the fifteenth time.

it’s the only thing that can replay in his mind, the only thing he knows how to say.

you don’t reply.

“i know it’s too late” he adds, his voice breaking. “but i need you to know that i meant it. every word, every kiss you let me give, everything.”

you hold yourself up with your arms, keeping your arms folded.

“i didn’t care about the bet” he whispers softly. “not after i met you, not after i realized i was falling inlove with you.”

his throat bobs, his eyes glistening with tears.

you hate how beautiful he looks right now.

“i think about you like, all the time” he says, stepping closer to you slightly. “how you would look at me like i was something worth trying for”

“i miss you” he says, almost like it’s a confession. “i miss you, and it’s my fault that you’re gone. i really wish i could just go back in time.”

you finally speak up, “but you can’t.”

your throat burns, and you know that you can’t cry in front of him─not again, not ever.

“jake” you say, and the sound of his name coming out of your mouth makes him shudder. “you had me the whole time, i was right there─and you still chose to do this.”

his lips part slightly, his face crumpling a little.

“i didn’t─”

“yes you did” you cut him off, ur voice not harsh but stern. “you chose a bet over me, their laughs over a girl you claim you can’t live without.”

a tear slips down your cheek, not even bothering to wipe it.

“you don’t get to miss me” you say, your heart practically splitting in half as his eyes shatter. “you don’t get to stand there and pretend that love can fix what you did.”

the silence between you two is unbearable, quite uncomfortable aswell.

“i was scared’ He admits. “i was scared of how much i wanted you, so i decided to ruin it first.”

you heart clenches so harshly you can feel it throughout your whole body.

"well, congratulations” you whisper, stepping back from him. “you got what you wanted.”

and his face, god, his face. it’s like watching a little kid get their plushie taken away from them─not being able to ever get it back.

you turn around and walk away, ur vision blurred from the amount of tears welled up in your eyes.

you don’t stop walking, not when he cries out your name, not when his voice cracks in the worst yet best way possible.

because love isn’t enough, not when the trust is gone and definitely not when apologies are a week late.

he stays there, standing at your locker, his body shaking as you walk away from him─because he knows that it’s over between you two.

© CALLIKARI 

[rosefantasy77]

can you do a Malachi/ y/n smut. Where she’s feeling sick and he comforts her by you know what. I love your Malachi smut it’s so good !

Feel Better

—Summary: You're feeling down on yourself so Malachi helps you feel better

—Warning: Small language, lots of fluff at the end, Malachi being cute, little angst, smut, p n v sex, unprotected sex, soft sex

—Song: Treat You Better; Shawn Mendes

Social media was not your happy place right now. It wasn’t the best thing to look at right now. You weren’t feeling the best. You were already feeling down on today.

It’s only a Friday. You weren’t feeling the best. You weren’t sure why. This week you have been hanging out with Malachi. You had a couple post with him. Once they were posted, they were going crazy.

Next day, you saw the comments. Talking about how you never get out. How your a pick me, just because you’re with someone as special as Malachi. It broke your heart. The one that hurt the most was “he’ll leave you when he’s done with you.”

It didn’t warm your heart. You were really upset. You didn’t understand it. It was really frustraiting.

It didn’t make any sense to you. You have always been in love with Malachi. He has always been by your side.

Even with acting. You weren’t the best of acting. Really, it wasn’t your thing. You would rather be at home, being a social media influence. Today is not one of those days.

You didn't feel like yourself. You didn't wanna do anything. You weren't feeling yourself. You just wanted today to pass.

It was only 1:30 in the afternoon. You just wanted to end this misery. It was already getting the worst of you. You just wanted Malachi next to you.

He isn't here yet. Malachi doesn't even know how you're feeling. He told you he would be at your place soon. You are only living by your side. It's always a treat with Malachi visits.

Waiting on Malachi, you just decided to fix you something to eat. Who are you kidding? You don't feel like eating. You're feeling down on your self.

You might as well just drown your sorrows. That's what you're doing right now. You were in your room: eating a tub of ice cream and watching YouTube.

You didn't even hear Malachi come in. You've been crying your eyes out. Malachi could see it. He just got you a small coke from Sonic.

He was so happy to see you. granted, it's only been a couple days. And, you texted each other at 4:00 a.m. in the morning. But, Malachi is always sweet to you.

You could never ask for anything better. But, right now, you want to kill yourself. You just wanted to end your life. Quit everything. Everyone is right. Malachi can do better than you.

When Malachi arrived at your apartment, he heard soft sniffles. He doubted they are from you. Turns out, they really are. He can here you all the way from the living room.

He rushed to your room. Wondering what is going on. He knocked on the door, and opened it. You were in one of his hoodies. Chocolate ice cream in your hand and fingers. Eyes red and white tears pouring from the stress and sadness.

Malachi's heart broke. He couldn't believe this was happening. He doesn't even know what going on. He is already feeling sorry. His heart shattered into a million pieces.

"Babe?" Malachi asked. You could hear the heartbreak in his voice. "Angel, what's wrong? Did something happen that I don't know about?"

"Am I good enough for you?" You asked, tears pouring down your face.

"What? Where would you get an idea about that?" Malachi asked.

Malachi didn't understand what was happening. He didn't understand why you are saying this stuff.

Yesterday, you were happy. Being clingy. Wanting to get dinner. Watch a movie. Cuddle up with each other and talk about life. Scroll on YouTube and TikTok. Doing dances together. This doesn't make sense.

"Malachi, you can do so much better than me. Their are 10,000 girls in the world, and you choose me. Say you wanna be with me forever. Soon, you realize you wanna break up with me. And used me." You poured tears out.

Malachi started having tears in his eyes. This broke your heart. You didn't understand where this is coming from. His heart is aching for you.

"Baby, baby, baby, what's going on? Tell me what happened! I wanna know what happened. Did I do or say something?" Malachi questioned.

"Remember that TikTok we did yesterday?" You reminded him. Malachi nodded his head. "Comments rolled in this morning. Saying that I am no good for you. You should dump me, take advantage of me. Whatever you wanna do."

This broke Malachi even more. He hated hearing these words. He pulled you in for a hug. He wrapped his arms around your waist. He reached his hand under your sweater. Creating small circles on your waist.

"Y/n, angel, I could never leave you. You're the most important thing I have ever received. You are a gift. You're a blessing. Don't listen to those people. They're jealous 'cause they don't realize how lucky I am to have you." Malachi explained.

Those words warmed your heart. A small smile creeped up on your lips. You don't know how Malachi does it.

It doesn't make sense how he makes you feel better. You couldn't ask it for anything better.

"Come here."

Malachi opened his arms for you. You jumped in them. It felt nice being in his arms. This is where you feel safe. Malachi is your safe place.

You pulled away. Looking into his brown eyes. You saw the love in his eyes. Maybe even the little lust. "You promise you mean that?"

"Every word."

Malachi pulled you in for a kiss. It was just meant for a small kiss. But, the taste of chocolate and your flavor brushed on his lips. He needs. Wants more of it.

"God, you look so good in this." Malachi breathed against your neck.

His lips sucked on your neck. His hands went further up your sweater. Resting right under your right breast. You leaned back, Malachi sucking that sweet spot. Making it easier for him.

"Malachi." You whispered; hands clenching in his hair.

Just like that, your core was dripping. The things Malachi does to you. The way he acts.

Just the way he makes you feel. He can do anything and get you on your hands and knees for him.

Malachi pulled away from your neck. Just looking at you. Your bedroom eyes. Looking into them so carefully. The way your breath has picked up.

He took off your sweater. Revealing your white push up bra. Just in your shorts and bra. He took off his black wife-beater. Looking at you in awe. He leaned down to your ear. Making you shiver.

"I wanna make love to you. I wanna show you how much I love you."

You closed your eyes. Nodding your head in response. Slowly, but surely, you laid down on your bed. Malachi taking control.

He got up to remove his clothing. You helping him in return. His hands did wonders to your body. Sending shivers down your spine.

Soon of all, both of you were bare and nude in front of each other. Each eye contact was like the last.

Lustful. Love. Full of trust.

Malachi slowly slid into your entrance. Your wet walls making it easier for him. You moaned as he slid into you. It was how it's always been.

Starts off in pain. Therefore, it's been a while since the two of you have done this. But, it's like every time. If not, even better than it has been.

You looked away from Malachi. The pleasure taking control. Malachi hitting that spot. The spot that always knows it's him. The perfect spot to know that he is in love with him.

Malachi wants to see you. he wants to see your beautiful eyes look into him. The eyes he fell in love with since the beginning. The eyes he has always been in love with.

"Y/n, look at me." You could't. You tried. But, the pleasure was too much. It felt so good. "Y/n, look at me."

As Malachi said, you looked at him. His brown eyes staring into yours. He pressed his forehead against yours. His breath picking up as you clench around him every couple seconds.

"Move with me." Malachi breathed.

The bed gasped as Malachi went deeper. Causing you to whimper at the over-simulation. Your breath picked up as Malachi hit your g-spot. The spot that made you see stars.

You could feel your end near. So could Malachi. You did't want it to end so close. You just wanted to enjoy the moment with him.

"Come on, baby. Let it go." Malachi accepted.

"Wait, M-Malachi. I just want it to last a little longer." You whimperd.

Malachi nodded his head in agreement. He went a little slower. Making you feel the pleasure a little longer.

That just did it for you. You were close again. And finally ready.

"God, Malachi, I am so close."

Without hesitation, you came. The last thrust from Malachi made you cum. Your breathing died down. Your heart beating in sync with Malachi.

Malachi pulled out of you. Laying down right beside you. Pulling you closer to him. He kissed your shoulder.

Massaging your breast. Giving you sweet kisses. On your fingers. Each one he said what he loves about you.

"You know, I will love you, Y/n. Nothing and no one can change."

You nodded your head. "I know."

Malachi moved your chin with his index finger and his thumb. His brown eyes looking into your eyes.

"Understand?"

"I understand."

Malachi smiled. Giving you a soft, but passionate kiss. For the rest of the day, it was only you and Malachi.

Nothing and no one else mattered.

[c0exiist]

To share this kind of vulnerability with someone was scarier than war itself. In truth, Desmond harboured his feelings to protect himself. It took a level of trust and acceptance to even admit to the demons in his head and with Nazli, he was willing to let go and say it for what it is. He braced himself, thinking she would see him in another light, the fear that she might have towards him and the potential of losing her if she didn’t want to be with someone with this much baggage. However, such negative thoughts dissipated the moment he felt her touch as he looked at his hands and noticed that she had reached out to him. It was in that moment that Desmond realized it was okay to trust his heart completely to her. 

“But what if it gets to a point where I can’t break that habit?” he asked in a hushed whisper. “What if I pushed you to the brink where you stop reaching? I just…I know that I’ll have moments where nothing else matters to me, but you? I can’t let anything happen to you. I won’t be able to live with myself knowing that I hurt you.” There was slight panic in his tone as reality started to set in. Was this even worth pursuing? Does she even want to see him through the bad? However, Nazli’s touch grounded him again as Des felt her heartbeat and he listened attentively to her words. Suddenly, he could feel his heart beating loudly after receiving this confirmation that they both wanted to unlearn parts of themselves that they knew they needed to work on. It was acceptance, trust, and growth all in one and it made Desmond realize how much he loved the woman before him. 

“Thank you…” he managed to say out loud. “You taught me that it’s okay if we don’t get it right. So as long as we try to approach it with patience, love and acceptance then I’m with you every step of the way if you feel the same with me.” He then nodded and swore that he was going to give it his all to not push her away completely. “I will do my best to not constantly repeat this avoidant habit of mine. I acknowledge that I’ll have moments where I will still do it, but I’m telling you right now that I won’t be in the right mindset and protecting you matters most to me. I will do what I can to get myself out of it, but I want you to know that I want you to stay and I want this to work.” He paused before reaching up to caress her cheek, “And as for you, I will stay and I will wait for you to come back to me even when things get tough. You ask for space, I’ll be right outside your bubble, waiting…You want to control the situation, I’ll let you, but I’ll also remind you that I’ll be here once you’re ready.” Suddenly, an idea came to mind as he met her gaze and asked, “Should we have a code word that only both of us know that we could say if things get rough? That way the other person is aware of what they’re going through. I know communication is key in a relationship, but sometimes it’s hard to find the words to convey what you’re truly feeling you know?” 

Desmond held onto her and remained silent once she spoke about her true feelings about his involvement with the Grudge Box. He expected it and if anything, he knew that could have been an absolute deal breaker to end things right there and then. However, to hear her understand, yet still manage to speak up on how she felt about it helped put things into perspective for the bodyguard. “I hear you and I appreciate that you’re still staying,” he said at first. “That part of me in the Grudge Box is something I’m still unlearning, yet at the same time still wanting to hold on to. It’s where I feel comfortable, secure and…with you in the picture, I know how difficult it’ll be to get out of it as I truly don’t want to hurt nor worry you all the time.” His gaze softened as he rubbed her back in circles to soothe her from thinking the worst of the situation. He listened, he understood and he was willing to try, that’s what he learned at this very moment. “Okay.” he simply said. “I will be real as I can get and I will do what I can to rely on your support when the going gets tough. I just have to see it as I’m not a burden and it’ll take time…” He then pulled away slightly to tilt her chin up and leaned down to kiss her gently, “I love you so much…” he murmured against her lips. “And I’m going to do everything I can to not lose you.” 

Nazli didn’t speak right away. She just stood there—letting the silence bloom around them while Desmond’s words settled in her chest like a weight she didn’t resent carrying. Her eyes traced the lines of his face, the tension in his shoulders, the way he looked at his hands like they were foreign things capable of harm and service in equal measure. There was something in her gaze—tender, yes, but also steady, anchoring. A quiet kind of resolve. When she finally moved, it was with intention. She stepped forward and took his hands—those same hands he’d just looked at like they might someday ruin everything—and pressed them between her own, thumbs brushing the creases of his knuckles. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Not just for saying it—but for naming it. Most people don’t. They bury the worst parts of themselves and pretend it’s noble. But you… you’re giving me the full story, even if it’s hard. That matters.”

She looked up at him fully then, voice gaining quiet strength. “I didn’t ask those questions to test you. I asked because I needed to know what kind of storm I might be stepping into with you—and if I’d be allowed to hold the umbrella with you when the downpour hits.  And I will. I will hold it. Even when you try to shove it into my hands and walk away. Even when you convince yourself you’re protecting me by disappearing. I need you to know that pushing me away won’t protect me—it’ll only teach me to stop reaching. And Des… I don’t want to stop reaching for you. Not now. Not after all of this.” She exhaled, pressing one of his hands over her heart, letting him feel the rhythm that still stuttered when he touched her like this. “You won’t always get it right. I won’t either. I’ll say the wrong thing, I’ll close off when I feel small, I’ll cling to control when it’s safer than feeling helpless. But I want you to be the person I unlearn that with. And I want to be the one who doesn’t run when your dark days come for you.” 

She couldn’t lie though and pretend that her breath hadn’t caught slightly when he mentioned the Grudge Box, and though she tried to keep her expression composed, there was no hiding the flash of worry that passed through her eyes. That part—the part where he disappeared into violence just to feel—that terrified her in a way she hadn’t fully let herself admit until now. She held onto him still, her hands wrapping a bit tighter around his waist, grounding herself before she spoke again. “I was with you until the end of that, and I still am,” she said softly, “but Des… the Grudge Box?” Her voice cracked just slightly around the word, like it hurt just to say it out loud. “That’s the part I can’t pretend doesn’t scare me.” She took a shaky breath, the kind that came when something mattered too much to be neat and controlled. “I know it’s your outlet. I know it’s how you’ve managed, maybe even how you’ve survived—but the idea of you throwing yourself into a ring, half-hoping someone hits hard enough to make the pain stop… it kills me. Not because I don’t think you can handle yourself. I know you can. But because that’s not survival anymore, Des. That’s self-destruction in slow motion.”

“If we’re building something—if we’re talking about grace and staying and making this real—then I need to be honest with you, too. That place? That version of you? It doesn’t just scare me. It makes me feel like I’m standing on the edge of something I don’t know how to pull you back from.” Nazli blinked once, gathering herself, but her voice stayed low and unwavering. “So yeah, I’ll be patient. I’ll learn how to love you through the shutdowns and the silence and even the shadows. But I also need you to start learning how to love yourself enough to not keep punishing your body when your heart hurts.” She moved closer, looping her arms around his waist again, resting her forehead against his chest. “But Des,” she whispered, “you don’t have to do penance for being human. Not with me. I don’t need perfect. I need real. You, with all of it—rage and love and mess and softness. All I ask is that when you do shut down… you find your way back to me. Let me be that place you come home to, even when you think you’ve burned the bridge. Let me be the girl who sees you, not just the version of you after the fight, but the one you come home to before you even manage to put the gloves on.”

[mossytrashcan]

if there’s a toxic boy couple, there’s a tyler the creator song for them

[basra-of-the-crows]

“I mean… I’d say so? If that’s alright at least…”

[with that Gerry picks up a tape recorder, and presses start]

“…right, statement of Basra Corvia regarding a flock of crows. Statement given 22 of July, 2025. Statement begins.

“I suppose you’d assume that I’m used to having animals follow me around. And I am. You kind of have to be when you grow up keeping and tending to animals. But we’ll. That’s mostly livestock, maybe a couple chickens or ducks if you’re lucky, and never to this extent. Not before at least.

You see the farm always had a bit of a problem with crows. They’d come down, swoop in and eat the feed we left out or go for the wheat we were growing. We tried a scarecrow but they’d always somehow figure out it wasn’t a person, so it wasn’t ever really a good solution. Temporarily effective at best, utterly useless at worst. And honestly… after being out on what we used to call ‘crow duty’ for far too long I can say that I also kind of… gave up. Decided to give them a bit of wheat just so they’d be distracted, it’d save me from the sun and keep em fed well enough to not temp them to destroy the crops… I do wonder what would have happened if I never did that. I certainly wouldn’t be here.

It took a while but eventually the crows started to accept me, I’d go out into the middle of the field and call out, have a bunch of seeds I threw out and they’d just… swoop in and eat. Some of them began to bring me a couple things actually! Usually small things, like pieces of metal or coins… I think one of them managed to give me a weird lookin’ monocle once… dunno where she got that. -By the way I’m fairly sure it was an artifact so once I’m done I’d appreciate it if you could show me to artifact storage. They told me to give my statement before I could hand something into artifact storage. - but the gist of the story is, I befriended a bunch of crows, I assumed that would be that until the farm burned down.

I was basically an adult when that happened, I was out and returned to a burning building, tried to save what I could, it admittedly wasn’t much… so I packed what I had and left. I didn’t expect the crows with me, but they did. But the farther I went, the more followed me. When I tell you I have traveled through over 10 countries for over 5 years with this exact flock following me I am not exaggerating.

But that’s not why I’m here, I mean, it partially is, and sure a weirdly clingy flock of birds isn’t exactly normal but it’s not necessarily supernatural either. What brought me here was when I woke up in the middle of the night to… someone screaming at me to get out. I panicked, grabbed the first thing near me and got ready to fight. Headed out only to find a bunch of crows in an insane amount of distress. I was obviously confused but followed them out… turns out the building had a gas leak, they’d sensed it somehow and got me out… heard on the news later that the rest of those in the building choked on it… thought that was a weird mental break but the crows have since been… telling me thing. Not always predictions but things that I should look out for, and it’s somehow always true. And I think they can understand me too..? I don’t know how to prove it to you except to say that I tried using them as messengers and they did a weirdly good job at it.

I don’t know what’s going on anymore and I… I can’t lie it’s freaking me out. I know I’m not hallucinating either, I’ve recorded the crow’s vocalizations and I can still understand what’s being said… I really don’t know what’s happening now but… I suppose that’s it.

Statement ends”

[Basra stares towards the corner of the room, seemingly dazed, before they get themselves back together]

“…now what..?”

[There’s a knock at the door of the archives, odd, as most people seem to either let themselves in or get let in by Rosie. After a few moments the door opens, and a somewhat tall person with long, black and white hair walks into the archives hesitantly]

“Uhm… hello? I was directed here by the person at the front door. Rose..? Rosie I think. I must apologize I am terrible with names. I’m here to talk about ah… a thing…?”

(For season 1 Gerry) - @basra-of-the-crows

oh— yeah, i do that. statements. [he draws out the last s.]

[gerry purses his lips, thinking of what to say.]

take a seat in my office, i’ll get you some tea. er— only if you want, though.