#and my first ever shift was 8 hours and CLOSING

[ambersky0319]

New Employee aquired today

My manager: Hey Grace maybe you can show NE some things, but don't overwhelm her

Me:

Me: so like. make sure it's not a repeat of my first day???

[heartkaji]

★… LOVE ISLAND JJK ! ❞

GOOD EVENING, TUMBLR !

it’s your host, MARS STERLING live from the villa ! five couples remain on the island & tonight, one of them is going home—it’s up to america tumblr to vote who they think is the least genuine couple, & decide who will be dumped from the island !

includes 𝜗ৎ gojo satoru, getou suguru, ryomen sukuna, nanami kento, fushiguro toji

★ GOJO X Y/N ⎯⎯ FAN TWITTER !

huntrix00 says:

‘did yall not see how satoru rolled his eyes when y/n kept telling him to not talk to the casa girls. free my man omg 😭’

slushynoobzz7 says:

‘GOJO AND Y/N ENEMIES TO LOVERS I’M HERE FOR IT. but can we talk abt the scene where he was lwk palming her in her bikini tho…like sir this is NATIONAL TELEVISION.’

hothighpriestess says:

‘okay but are we just gonna ignore the fact that gojo is a sagittarius. he’s gonna cheat on my girl please free y/n 💔’

ⓘ CONFESSIONALS

‘gojo and y/n, what do you have to say about your relationship ?’

gojo’s thumbing your thighs on national television.

not the fleshy surface, he’s much too crass for that. gojo satoru dips bony fingers into the split in your thighs & pouts when you shoot him a glare. his glower melts into grin; you think he has too many teeth.

“look, i flirt. that’s like, breathing for me. but y/n? first girl who ever made me question my skills,” he turns to you, “that’s why i flirt with her the most.”

“i’d say i’m honored, but you’d flirt with a wall if you could.”

gojo satoru doesn’t sport his blind-man glasses for a change. his hair is sweat soaked & sticky & full of half-curls. when you’re done speaking he makes a show of clutching his chest in pain, eyes rolled shut like chestnut shells.

“dramatic,” you mutter but your tone is fond. you reach out a palm to cup his cheek but he takes your palm & kisses it instead. his lips are summer sticky. there’s peach shine where he kissed your hand.

satoru grins.

“you’re the only one for me in this villa,” he hums into your palm, “and unless zendaya shows up, it’s staying that way.”

“that’s not the romantic closing statement you think it is.”

★ NANAMI X Y/N ⎯⎯ FAN TWITTER !

hudadefender102 says:

y’all i could NEVER be a casa girl do u see how they treat y/n ?? and omg she’s such an angel notice how she keeps it classy even when they outright BULLY her. tumblr please give this queen my 100k

penguinn0 says:

‘just realized that the reason nanami didn’t kiss y/n for like five eps is because she said she’s scared of being used and he doesn’t want her to think that’s the case w him??? bye if they get dumped i’m dropping the show’

kubzscouts-is-my-wifey says:

‘omg y/n is SO pretty she literally looks like princess tiana ?? but i lwk don’t want her nd nanami to win they’re kinda boring imo😭’

ⓘ CONFESSIONALS

‘y/n and nanami, what do you have to say about your relationship ?’

being with nanami burned like hell.

but you won’t say that on national television. not when you’re half-sat on his lap & his palm sleeps heavy on your hips. you shift & he pats your thigh. aching, automatic.

“i’d say that for y/n and i, things haven’t mostly been easy.”

you cough, an understatement. but kento pays you no mind. he keeps spilling words from the jugular.

“y/n’s been especially strong, and that’s one of the things i admire about her. it wasn’t easy coupling up despite the opposition, but i’m forever grateful she chooses to stay by my side regardless.”

he grips your palm & you squeeze back.

“what kento and i have is real,” you soften, “and i’d be damned if i let some villa bitch ruin it.”

kento’s lip twists. you swear you see a smile.

★ TOJI X Y/N ⎯⎯ FAN TWITTER !

percabeth4ever says:

‘tumblr as much as i love watching them pls DO NOT let them win !! ik toji irl and he’s literally a beggar on my street, he did NOT come here for love 😭’

holdingspace4cierra says:

‘yall i’d hate to be the other islanders🧍‍♀️ imagine trying to get your 8 hours in but y/n & toji doing it raw right next to you smh 🥀

kiribaku4l says:

‘bad bitch w a bad boy we LOVE to see it. and the way u can literally feel their sexual tension through the screen?? yeah I’m taking them to the finals🙏.’

ⓘ CONFESSIONALS

‘y/n and toji, what do you have to say about your relationship ?’

“y/n’s annoying,”

“excuse me?”

toji’s slouched & heavy boned on the comforter, one arm thrown lazy over your seat as he shrugs. “bossy. picks fights if i breathe wrong. way too complicated.”

“like your financial situation.”

you’re promptly ignored. “and she never stops running her mouth—unless my hand’s on her throat.”

you don’t miss the way the camera man coughs.

“but she’s smart. sharp. and when she’s asleep? clings to me like she’ll die if i leave.”

you blink, voice small as your fingers curl around his wrist. your brows furrow & your lips are tugged downwards as if you’re trying to recall every moment you’ve ever slept together. “i don’t do that.”

“you do,” a pause. “kills me every time.”

“still not splitting the money though.”

you look up at him & his lips are bent in a clumsy grin. you pinch his side,

“try it and die.”

★ SUGURU X Y/N ⎯⎯ FAN TWITTER !

sodapoppp says:

‘when suguru comes on screen so i come too 💔’

ishowmeat says:

‘are we not gonna talk about how getou cried more when he thought satoru was gonna leave the island than when the same happened to y/n…get this man off my screen🤦‍♀️’

master-jinshis-cumslut says:

‘these two gotta be the FIRST couple in love island history to actually use the swimming pool😭 also that challenge when y/n gave him a lap dance ??? foaming at the mouth omg’

ⓘ CONFESSIONALS

‘y/n and suguru, what do you have to say about your relationship ?’

“that lap dance was me proving a point,”

you’re idly playing with the collar of his shirt, knuckles brushing his lips as he presses half-pecks to your skin. getou hums, “and what point is that ?”

“you’re not as unbothered as you pretend to be.”

suguru sighs as if defeated, eyes pressed shut & your palm trailing down his shirt as he sinks into the comforters. “you caught me,” he breathes, “hard to fake unbothered when you looked at me like you knew what you were doing.”

“i did know,” you smile sweetly, tucking yourself into his side. his palm smooths heavy over your arm & you lean up like you’re about to peck him on the lips—then don’t. he frowns.

“you breathe different when you’re jealous.”

he pokes your nose, “and you grin when you think you’ve won.”

his fingers rub circles on your thigh, slow & sure & syrup heavy, “you like getting reactions out of me, don’t you?”

you hum into his side, “i wanna see you crack.”

“careful,” suguru shifts you so your knee’s in his lap, lips pressed into your hair. “you might get addicted to what comes out.”

the producers have to remind you this is a confession booth.

★ SUKUNA X Y/N ⎯⎯ FAN TWITTER !

mamoushii says:

‘y/n and sukuna are really miscommunication final boss—like wdym they BOTH brought back ppl from casa just cuz they couldn’t tell if the other would be serious about closing off?? is this love island or blue spring ride omg.’

mirawontmiss says:

‘the way sukuna was acting like the prize at first then switched up when he realized y/n won’t chase him LMFAOO’

nicolandria101 says:

‘the way sukuna almost STRANGLED that casa guy over y/n??? I KNOW THAT COOKIE GOOD 🙌’

ⓘ CONFESSIONALS

‘y/n and sukuna, what do you have to say about your relationship ?’

“i think sukuna confuses control for care.”

“and i think y/n confuses silence with indifference.”

you glare at him. sukuna is unbuttoned sun-shirt & silver chain glinting across his chest. he meets your gaze from the corner of his eyes,

“you act like if i don’t say it, it isn’t real.”

“because you don’t say it.”

sukuna’s tone dips, low, dangerous: “i show it. when i didn’t kiss that casa girl. when i socked that guy who tried to touch you. when i slept on the daybed ‘cause you were mad at me.”

your arms are still crossed over your chest. you don’t meet his eyes.

“don’t tell me i don’t care when you’re the only one i lose sleep over.”

your heart claws up your throat. you’re chewing your cheek trying to suppress the bubbling in your chest. you bite your tongue,

“you still brought back someone from casa too.”

“so did you,” he quips. “guess we’re both fucked.”

you lean your head against his shoulder. “guess we are.”

the islanders have spoken, it’s time for tumblr to cast its votes !

© HEARTKAJI ; do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

Hold your ear to my heart. Hear it beat.

Part three of The Rain series

Synopsis: Leona's POV from the night of the collapse + When he comes to visit The Prefect in the infirmary for the first time afterwards

TW: Injury, Ramshackle collapsing on The Prefect, Leona finds The Prefect, The Prefect IS NOT in a good state, Blood, Leona Vomits, Leona Cries

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (here), Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11 (coming soon), . . .

Leona wasn't going to answer the phone that night. When he got a call a call at 9pm at night he was planning to hit decline, but, by some stroke of fate perhaps, his finger slipped and he hit answer. He cursed under his breath and was about to end the call when his blood ran cold. On the other end of the line he could hear distant shouts and the sound of harsh rain before a voice broke through the noise: "Kingscholar, we need you at Ramshackle immediately! Ramshackle collapsed and The Prefect got caught under the rubble-"

Leona hung up on Professor Crewel before he could finish talking. Well, he didn't really hang up; he crushed his phone.

Leona was out the door in less than a second. He dashed through the Savanaclaw lounge, startling Ruggie into spilling a basket of laundry and causing Jack to drop a weight on his foot. The lounge went quiet as they watched their dorm leader make a mad dash for the mirror. Nobody had ever seen Leona run like that before.

Barreling out of the mirror, Leona didn't once let up on his pace. Even when he got out into the rain that was so heavy he could barely see ten feet ahead of him, even when he was running on slick stones, Leona ran. When he reached the place where Ramshackle should have been he gagged.

He didn't gag because the sight of the dorm was hard to take in; he gagged because of the thick scent of iron that hung heavy in the air. It took every shred of will within the Lion not to throw up.

Crewel quickly filled him in on the plan and Leona got to work. When his magic pen was full of blot, the teachers lent him their respective magic stones. It wasn't until 12pm (On the dot. Everyone was sickeningly aware of how much time was passing with you under there.) that he finally got to you. The scent of iron flooded his lungs, but that wasn't what caused his face to shift to one of utter horror.

Bones weren't supposed to bend like that. They weren't supposed to be visible either. Was that even you? There's no way. . .there's no way. . . .

The STYX crew, who had arrived an hour earlier, rushed past him and quickly began checking you over and preparing to get you onto the stretcher. Professor Crewel had to pull Leona back because he couldn't move. He was like that until the STYX crew began to rush you to the infirmary.

Even then, he only moved to follow you. The staff didn't bother sending him back to his dorm. They knew he wouldn't leave now.

It wasn't until Leona was standing in the hallway outside of the infirmary that he looked down and threw up on the spot. He was covered in blood. Your blood.

Sam got him clothes to change into, and when Leona got back the area had been turned into a makeshift waiting room (and his vomit cleaned).

He stayed there until morning when he was forced to go back to his dorm to rest. He didn't sleep a wink.

Every time Leona closed his eyes, he saw you laying in the rubble covered in sand and dust and soaked in a mixture of rainwater and your own blood. You looked so cold. His hand only brushed yours, but you had felt so cold.

The counselor he was assigned was more of an annoyance than anything. They weren't able to get a single word out of him.

When Leona heard you woke up, he was just frozen. He didn't even put up a fight when the staff said he'd have to wait a week before he could see you. Honestly, he was scared.

His hand felt like lead as he reached it up to knock on the door.

A raspy, muffled "come in" came like a dying breeze through the door and Leona choked.

It took him longer than he'd like to admit for him to finally open the door and force his legs to move.

You could tell when he saw you that he was struggling to keep it together. You were hooked up to machines and covered in bandages. You had undergone quite a few surgeries since that night.

He was heartbreakingly silent as he stood there by the door.

You gently patted the bed next to you in a motion that made it clear you were still in a good deal of pain, but what he could see of your face betrayed no sign of it. The bed dipped as he sat by your side, facing away from you.

"Leona." You croaked his name, but he didn't respond. "Le-"

Before you could call his name again he had already turned around and, without giving you a chance to look at his face, gently ducked his head into your shoulder. He placed his head on a spot with no bandages, but still just barely hovered his head over you, scared he would cause you pain.

Everything was still for a moment before you lifted one of your arms, your bones creaking, to rest on the back of his head and gently, with what little force you could muster, bring it to rest just above your still beating heart.

He eventually caved and let the little weight of his head rest fully on you as he listened to the beating in your chest. When you looked behind him you could see that his tail was softly swaying to match the rhythm.

Before long you could feel the spot where his head laid begin to become damp. You still couldn't see his face as his head laid so his ear was pressed to your heart and the back of his head facing you, but you had a pretty good idea of what was happening. You gently made circular motions with your fingers still in his hair (your would pet him, but moving more than just your fingers that much wouldn't be in your best interest).

You stayed like that for hours before he eventually had to leave. The entire time he was there he didn't speak a single word, but he didn't need to. You could tell what he had been feeling from the tear stain on your shirt.

As Leona was closing the door to the infirmary, he heard two soft words slip through the crack between the door and the frame "Thank you."

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[manmuncher777]

hihi love your work in filthy with dante! wondering if I could request a tattoo artist!dante x fem reader? no specific request other than pure filth :))

excited to see what you cook up!! >;)

Hello my love!!! Thank you so much im so glad you liked it, and of course I can!! When I tell you I had so much fun writing this. I hope you enjoy xxx

FIRST TIME

Dante Sparda x reader SMUT MDNI

You were already regretting wearing a short skirt.

The leather of the couch stuck to the back of your thighs as you shifted, trying to sit like a normal, composed adult while he leaned back behind the counter, spinning a pen between his fingers like he had all the time in the world.

Dante Sparda.

He wasn’t what you expected when you called the studio asking for an appointment. The rough, husky voice on the phone matched the image in your head—sure—but seeing him in person? Way worse. Or better. Depending on how many brain cells you had left to rub together.

Silver hair tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed. A cigarette behind one ear. Tattoos peeking out from the open collar of his black button-up. One ring on his thumb, one on his pinky, and a cocky smile that was probably illegal in several countries.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said, voice like velvet-coated sin. “What are we thinkin’? Name? Flower? Something cute to match the lip gloss?”

You blinked, nearly choking on your spit. “Um—wha—no. Not a name. It’s… it’s just a little symbol. Something small. Meaningful.”

“Mysterious.” He grinned, sliding a notepad toward you, long fingers brushing yours. “Show me what you’re thinkin’.”

You handed him your shitty sketch, and he nodded like it wasn’t the most amateur thing he’d ever seen. His thumb dragged slowly along the edge of the paper, gaze flicking from the design to your bare thigh as you tried not to fidget.

“Inner thigh, huh?” he asked, like he already knew the answer. “Pretty bold placement for your first.”

You swallowed. “I wanted it… close. Private.”

“Mm.” His smile widened, eyes sharp beneath those lashes. “Let me guess—you like the thrill. Somethin’ that gets your heart racin’. Little danger, little pleasure.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out except a breathy “maybe.”

His chair creaked as he leaned forward, all inked arms and hungry eyes.

“Come in tomorrow night,” he said, tone lower now. “After hours. We’ll get it just right. Take our time.”

Your heart skipped. “After hours?”

“Sure. You’ll be my last of the day.” His eyes dropped to your legs, a glint in them you couldn’t ignore. “I like takin’ my time with pretty things.”

You left the studio twenty minutes later, heart pounding, thighs pressed tight, and your name scribbled in black ink on the studio calendar.

Friday, 8 PM. Dante—after hours.

You already knew this tattoo would ruin you.

The bell above the studio door jingled softly as you stepped inside, your sandals clicking against the worn hardwood. The place was dim, cozy—lit mostly by warm overhead lights and the glow of a neon devil sign hanging in the corner. The air smelled like clean leather and something smoky, something expensive.

“Evenin’, sweetheart.”

Dante’s voice floated from the back room before he even appeared. You barely had a second to prepare before he stepped out, stretching like he’d just woken up from a nap. His black tee clung to him like a second skin, revealing the sharp cut of his torso, and his silver hair was messy in the artfully fucked-up kind of way.

“Y-you’re here alone?” you asked, setting your bag down on the little couch in the corner.

He smirked, locking the door behind you with a loud click. “Course. Told you this was a private session. You nervous, princess?”

Your stomach flipped.

“A little,” you admitted, smoothing your hands over the hem of your skirt. It was too short. You knew that. But you also knew exactly what you were doing.

Dante’s gaze dropped for a second—slow, deliberate—before he turned and headed for his station. “That’s normal. I’ll take good care of you.”

You swallowed hard, watching him move around the space with lazy confidence, setting up the machine, pulling out fresh needles, arranging the ink caps. He whistled as he worked, glancing over at you every so often.

“You bring the design?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, stepping over and handing him the refined sketch he’d drawn up at the consultation. Your fingers brushed, just for a second, and his eyes caught yours with that same sharp, hungry glint.

“Perfect,” he murmured, lips curling. “Let’s get that stencil prepped.”

He took his time, dragging the design through transfer paper, swiping alcohol onto the inside of your thigh where the tattoo would go. His fingers were warm, gloved, but the touch was intimate—his thumb lingering longer than necessary as he looked up at you from his crouched position.

“This okay?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded, heartbeat rattling in your ears. “Yeah. Just… sensitive there.”

“Mm. Lucky me.” He smirked again, standing back up and tossing the stencil paper to the side. “Lay back when you’re ready. Won’t bite.”

You weren’t so sure about that.

As you climbed onto the chair, lying back with your leg bent open just enough for him to work, you caught his gaze flicking back to your mouth, your throat, your thighs.

And when he leaned in with the stencil, brushing it carefully onto your skin, he whispered, “Gotta keep real still for me now, sweetheart. Wouldn’t wanna mess up my art.”

The air crackled with tension. Every breath felt too loud. And you knew—deep down—you were already in so much trouble.

You laid back on the leather chair, thigh slightly turned to give him access, breath catching as Dante sat between your legs, gloves snapping on with a smirk that sent heat straight to your core.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, flipping the machine on. The low buzz filled the room, making your spine tighten.

“Y-Yeah,” you breathed, trying to look anywhere but at his face. His stupidly hot, sharp-jawed, half-lidded face.

“You’re doing good already, and I haven’t even touched you,” he chuckled, eyes dropping to your thigh. “This’ll sting at first, but I promise I’ll make it quick and clean.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. Your heart thudded, and not just from nerves. The position—the way his body brushed against your knee as he leaned in, how his breath ghosted over your skin, how close his hands were to everything dangerous—was making it impossible to breathe.

And then—

The needle pressed in.

Your fingers clenched the edges of the chair as the buzz crawled up your leg. It wasn’t unbearable. But it wasn’t nothing, either. Especially not with the way Dante was holding you still, his free hand firm on your thigh, palm wide and warm.

“There we go,” he said, voice lower now, something smooth sliding beneath it. “Takin’ it like a fuckin’ champ. Told you you’d be perfect for me.”

A whimper crawled up your throat—choked down fast.

The buzz continued, dancing over your skin in a steady rhythm. Every time he shifted, every time his arm brushed your leg, you felt it. The vibrations weren’t just in your thigh now. They traveled. Warm. Deep. Aching.

“You’re shivering,” he noted after a minute, tilting his head without pausing his work. “That nervous still?”

You opened your mouth—yes, that was the safe answer—but he cut you off with a quiet hum, like he already knew.

His fingers tightened just slightly on your skin.

“Feels kinda good though, doesn’t it?” he murmured, not looking up. “Little vibration. Little pain. You’re squeezin’ that seat like I’m doin’ something worse.”

Your face flamed. “I-I’m fine,” you lied, breath coming quick.

Dante smiled lazily, tongue grazing his teeth as he glanced up at you. “Mmm. Sure you are.”

The machine kept buzzing. His hands never stopped. But now he was watching you more than the stencil, gauging every flutter of your lashes, every sharp breath, every twitch of your thighs.

And beneath it all, that cocky, teasing glint stayed in his eyes—like he knew.

Like he knew exactly how wet you were getting from this.

The buzzing finally stopped, leaving the room in a heavy, weighted silence. Your pulse still throbbed in your thighs, heart hammering in your chest as Dante leaned back to admire his work, tongue pressed to his cheek in approval.

“You killed it, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice thick, like he’d just smoked you in.

You tried to nod, tried to offer a smile, but your brain was swimming. You could still feel the echo of the vibrations deep between your legs. Still feel the warmth of his hands. Still feel how close he’d gotten—how close he still was.

Dante set the machine down and reached for the wrap, leaning back in. His gloved fingers skimmed your inner thigh, brushing just a little too high on accident—or maybe not.

But it was enough.

You gasped. Sharp. Involuntary. A pathetic little moan bubbling out before you could swallow it.

And everything snapped.

Dante froze.

Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet yours. They were darker now. Hungrier. “…You moaned.”

Your lips parted, embarrassment flooding your face. “I didn’t—”

“Yeah you did,” he said, voice low, velvet-smooth and wicked. He stood, peeled off his gloves, and let them drop to the tray with a quiet snap. “You’ve been squirming in that chair for the past hour. I thought maybe you were just a little sensitive.”

He stepped closer.

“But now I know,” he murmured, hand coming to grip the edge of the chair beside your head as he leaned over you, “you’ve been dripping wet this whole time, haven’t you?”

You whimpered, back arching slightly.

His other hand trailed up your exposed thigh again, this time deliberate. Confident. Claiming.

“Jesus,” he hissed through his teeth when his fingers brushed the damp cotton between your legs. “You’re soaked.”

Your hands flew to his chest, but not to push him away. You tugged him closer, thighs parting instinctively.

“You gonna let me fuck you right here in this chair, baby?” he asked, nose brushing your cheek. “That what you’ve been wanting?”

You nodded fast—shameless, frantic.

Dante groaned, his mouth crashing to yours. His hands were rough now, hungry, pulling at the waistband of your skirt, yanking it down as you kicked your sneakers off the sides of the chair.

“Could’ve told me earlier,” he growled against your lips. “Would’ve had you sittin’ on my cock while I tattooed you.”

He dropped to his knees, dragged your panties down with his teeth, eyes locked on your soaked core. “Fuck. Pink little pussy—so pretty for me.”

Your fingers gripped the back of the chair, breath ragged. “Dante—”

He didn’t let you speak. He buried his face between your thighs, tongue working you over with such filthy, open-mouthed hunger that your head hit the leather with a loud thud. It was messy, wet, his stubble scraping your skin just right as his hands gripped your thighs like a man starved.

And when he finally stood again, licking his lips, undoing his belt?

You already knew you weren’t walking out of that shop without at least one more mark on your body—and it wasn’t going to be the tattoo.

The chair scraped behind you as Dante grabbed your waist and spun you around like you weighed nothing. Before you could catch your breath, he had you bent over the workbench—palms flat on the cold steel, tits pressing into scattered ink caps and a few loose sketch pages.

“Don’t move,” he said, voice a rasp just above a growl.

You didn’t even breathe. His hand slid up your spine, slow, rough, until he was fisting your hair and pulling your head back just enough to whisper in your ear.

“God, look at you… still twitchin’ from the tattoo and now I got you bent over my fuckin’ table like a goddamn reward.”

You moaned, clenching around nothing.

Your skirt was already gone. Your panties? Still hanging off one ankle like some pathetic afterthought. And Dante didn’t bother taking his jeans all the way off—just enough to free his cock, heavy and leaking as he dragged it between your folds with a low hiss.

“You feel that?” he muttered, rubbing the head right against your soaked entrance. “How fuckin’ needy you are for it?”

“Please,” you gasped, the word cracking on your tongue.

“Yeah, baby? You want it that bad?” He pressed in—just the tip—and then pulled back, just to make you wail. “Then beg for it.”

“Dante, I—I need it, I can’t—”

“You can,” he growled, slapping your ass so hard it echoed off the brick walls. “You’ve been dripping for me since I turned the machine on. You can take every inch.”

And then he slammed into you.

Your cry was ragged, face twisted against the steel as he buried himself to the hilt, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise while the other stayed tangled in your hair.

“Fuck, baby—tight little thing, grippin’ me like you own me.”

He started to move, and it was vicious. Deep, punishing thrusts that shoved the table an inch every time he bottomed out. The slap of skin was obscene. The sound of you whining his name? Even worse.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty bent over my bench like this,” Dante panted, hips snapping. “Makin’ a fuckin’ mess on my floor—gonna have to mop it up later.”

You sobbed, arching, body trembling from overstimulation and pleasure so intense it hurt.

And then his hand slid down. Fingers found your clit, rubbing fast, and you nearly collapsed.

“Yeah,” he hissed, “that’s it, baby. Come for me. All over my cock. Right here, where anyone could walk in and see you bein’ such a good little slut.”

You shattered.

Legs shaking, mouth open in a silent scream as you came around him, thighs soaked and body limp—but Dante didn’t stop. He chased his own release, slamming into you harder, filth pouring from his mouth.

“Gonna fuck you stupid—gonna ruin that new tattoo—god fuck, I’m close—”

And with a low growl, he came deep inside you, holding you down to the workbench as he pulsed, cock twitching, breath hot against your neck.

For a long second, there was nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and tattoo ink bottles rattling from the aftershocks.

Then his lips pressed to your ear.

“So… when you comin’ back for your second piece, sweetheart?”

[leo-in-the-pitt]

First Day In The Pitt

Summary: You’re only in your sixth month of emergency medicine residency but it feels like it’s been an eternity already having to work with Dr. Jack Abbott everyday after you kissed him in the parking last year after your medical school rotation in his ER. You never imagined matching into the program and having to work under him for 4 years of residency.

Warnings: porn with plot (sorryy definitely got carried away with the story) age gap, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected PIV sex, dirty dirty talk, idk what else but it’s dirty enter at your own risk.

It’s only been 8 months since you officially became a “doctor”. None of it feels real. All the tears and sleepless nights lead you to marching into emergency medicine residency only a couple hours from home at your dream hospital/program. You’ve been away from friends and family but, your 3 co-residents are already your best friends. And all your attendings are the best mentors you could’ve asked for. Then there’s Dr. Jack Abbott.

Ever since your EM rotation in Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center last Summer, you’ve been thinking about Dr. Abbott. You spent 8 weeks on that rotation, 4 working nights with him. The first 4 weeks working with Dr. Robby taught you what real medicine feels like. You finally found what you wanted to do for the rest of your life. Or at least you thought.

It was time to start nights and your sleep schedule was all types of fucked up. You tried to flip it but ended up going in on your first 15 hour night with barely 3 hours of sleep and it showed on your face.

“Rough day?”, you heard a deep voice say from behind you walking past. He didn’t even look at you.

“Sorry it’s my first shift on nights.”, you said but he didn’t seem to care and just kept walking towards the employee locker room.

Then you remembered the warning from the day shift residents. Dr. Jack Abbott, a military veteran who had a way about him to somehow make you feel like you knew nothing and everything all at once.

The next 3 weeks flew past and you only had 1 week left here. You were the only medical student this rotation so you got a lot of attention from all the residents and attendings. One in particular.

“You know I’ve never seen him teach anyone the way he teaches you.” Said Dr. Frank Langdon, a senior resident who you became close with these past couple weeks.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. He treats you guys the same way.”

“Yeah no, the amount of patience he has for you is crazy. He should’ve been kicking you out of patient rooms the way you fuck up simple procedures.”

“Fuck off Frank”

“No I’m serious dude. I hear the way you guys talk to each other. I know flirting when I see it.”

The last 3 shifts you started to pay closer attention to how Dr. Abbott was with everyone else. And fortunately or unfortunately, Langdon was right. Dr. Abbott pulled you into any patient room he could to see everything even if it might you just stood in the corner and watched. Next thing you know you were subtly flirting with him too. You don’t know if you were flirting with him before Langdon said something but you sure were now. Careful though so no one else would notice.

Your 8 weeks came to an end in the Pitt. But luckily for you at the end of every month the attending invite the residents down the block to a bar to unwind after all the chaos that had unfolded the past month. And given you were the only med student, you were invited too.

You wanted to dress nice enough for Dr. Abbott to notice but not nice enough for anyone else to notice.

You got to the bar about 30 minutes after the event started, 9:30 PM. Didn’t want to seem too eager. You got to mingle with some residents and attendings but, every time you looked away you say the same handsome face staring at you, Dr. Jack Abbott.

It was now midnight and after a couple of drinks and thrown darts that completely missed the board, you were ready to call it a night. Until you found out that it’s a tradition to stay until the bar closes. At 2AM.

The seconds started to feel like hours. And all the free alcohol wasn’t helping. The residents kept ordering everything and anything since the attendings were the ones paying.

Finally. 2 AM is here. This is also when you learned that the residents do sobriety tests on everyone before leaving to keep everyone safe when driving home.

You went to the back of the line since you didn’t know what to expect. Except you didn’t realize whose line you got in.

“Follow my finger.” Dr. Abbott hand, which was the size of your head was now waving back and forth in front of you. You struggled to follow, not because you were drunk, just tipsy maybe, but because here was the man you had been purposely flirting with for the past who even knows how long standing just about 3 feet from you.

“Heel to toe. Walk to the table and back.” He was stern with his words which only made it even harder to focus. On the way back you stumbled.

“Well that’s a point off.”

“I’m not drunk. I just don’t work well under pressure.” At this point you realized everyone else was gone. Everyone except you, Dr. Abbott, and Dr. Robby.

“We all know that’s a lie.” Said Dr. Robby.

“Alright, last test. Stand right here.” Dr. Abbott pointed to the ground right in front of him, about a foot away.

There you stood in front of him. Wishing you were drunk at least that way you’d forget all this by the morning. He had you hold one leg up 6 inches off the ground as he counted to 30.

“15, 16, 17”

You felt yourself wobbling as he stared directly at you with his big blue eyes, almost as if he could see into your soul.

You could hear Dr. Robby laughing as you kept on wobbling.

“20, 21, 22”

You finally tipped over. But here comes Dr. Abbott to save the day as he jumps up and stops you from falling right into the table.

“Maybe you don’t work well under pressure after all.” It’s almost like he was disappointed in you.

You couldn’t even speak as there he stood staring at you once again. This time his hand still on your arm and face only inches away from your face.

You felt yourself turning red until Dr. Robby spoke up. “Well guess one of us has to drive her back home”

You knew you weren’t drunk but figured there was no point in fighting it given there was a 50/50 shot that Dr. Abbott would take you home.

“I got her.” Said Dr. Abbott

“She’s all yours. Have a good night guys. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon back here for residency soon enough.”

And with that it was just you and him.

You both walked out into the bar parking lot. “I can drive myself you know.”

“According to my tests, you can’t.”

He said he’d bring Dr. Robby to the bar tomorrow so that one of them could drive your car back to your place.

Here you were sitting in his beat up pickup truck giving him directions to your apartment wishing the drive was longer.

He pulled up to the front of the building and before you knew it he was at the passengers door opening it for you.

“Did you sober up enough to get yourself inside?”

“Wasn’t drunk.” You snapped back at him.

He grabbed your right hand to help you get out of the car and made sure to walk close behind you until you got to the front door.

“I know my way from here Dr. Abbott.”

“You can call be Jack. You’re not my student anymore and not my resident yet.”

“Thank you for the ride home” you paused, Jack.”

Here he went again just staring into your eyes. He was just inches away from you at this point. You both were slowly coming closer together without even realizing it.

Next thing you know you lean in first to kiss him. And without hesitation, he kissed you back. This goes on for about 15 seconds before he slips his hot moist tongue into your mouth deliberately and you let him.

But as quickly as it began, it was over. Jack grabbed both your arms hard and pulled you away from him.

“I’m sorry. We can’t do this.”

You didn’t even know what to say.

“I’m sorry if felt like there was something between us but, there isn’t.”

You felt tears quickly feel up your eyes. Had you been imagining it all? All the glances across the ER, the slight sideways smile that he only gave certain people that you had managed to get a few times, was it all in your head?

“So none of it was real?” You managed to get out before a tear rolled down your cheek.

“I’m sorry.” And with that he left you standing outside your apartment, cold and alone.

—————————————————————————

It was months later and everything had changed. You managed to match into your dream residency. Or at least it was the dream until you realized it would mean seeing Dr. Abbott again.

You managed to be civil with him for the most part. Occasionally letting some attitude slip out in your responses to you. He never said anything about it.

The only people that knew about the dreaded night was Langdon of course, and Mel King a new 2nd year resident you quickly became close with.

You were about to switch into a 5 week rotation of nights and that could only mean one thing. Dr. Abbott.

Dr. Robby had been keeping an annoyingly close eye on you ever since the first time you snapped on Dr. Abbott.

“So will you be gracing us with your presence tonight?”

Shit. The monthly resident bar crawl. You had successfully avoided the first 5 of them by either being ‘sick’ or just saying you were too overwhelm to be going out. But it didn’t look like you could keep up the act anymore.

“Uhm yeah of course I’ll be there!” You tried to seem excited but it clearly wasn’t working.

“Look I know you’ve been having a hard time adjusting here. And haven’t exactly been seeing eye to eye with some of your attendings. Or maybe one particular attending. But you got 3 and a half more years with us kid, so I think whatever’s going on between you and Abbott better be fixed tonight before I have to have a talk with both of you. Got it?”

“Of course, Dr. Robby.”

Here we go again. Another tipsy night. Or maybe a drunk night you thought to yourself. You figured maybe you’d just be better off actually getting drunk to forget all the struggles of EM residency for just one night.

This time around you showed up exactly at 9PM and of course this is the one time no one wants to come on time.

It’s just you and all the attendings.

You make your way around saying hello to everyone making sure to keep Dr. Abbott for last. And he notices. You can feel him staring and smirking at you as you go around.

You finally get to him.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re ignoring me.”

“And what would make you think that Dr. Abbott?”

He looked you up and down while licking his lips. You couldn’t fall for it this time. He already made it clear that all the feeling you thought were there, weren’t real.

Thankfully you hear the bar door open and about a dozen more residents come in and fortunately save you from whatever Dr. Abbott had to say.

It was know about 1 AM and who knows how many drinks later. But again, you weren’t drunk. You couldn’t trust yourself enough to get drunk around Dr. Abbott without making a fool of yourself. You spent the next hour mingling but keeping an eye on him the same way he was keeping an eye on you. You noticed that him and Dr. Robby were talking alone but kept looking over at you. And you knew that couldn’t be good.

When it came time for the sobriety test again you stayed back and counted everyone to ensure you wouldn’t end up in his line again. But it didn’t work. Once again it’s you and him. Face to face. You knew you had to pass the test this time. Or walk home. Because absolutely no way you were going to get into his car again.

“Well you failed 2 out of 3 test again. Looks like someone can’t handle their liquor.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” You yelled. “This is bullshit and you know it.”

“Looks like this is the perfect time for you two to make up whatever little fight you’ve had going on while you drive home.” It’s almost as if Dr. Robby told him to fail you again.

You gave Dr. Robby your keys. Again. You already knew which car was Dr. Abbott’s and were at the passenger side door before he left the bar.

The drive was silent. You didn’t have to give him directions this time. He remembered the whole route back to your place.

“Thanks for the unnecessary ride again.”

You reached for the door handle but he locked the door.

“Let me out Dr. Abbott.”

“So now I’m Dr. Abbot? The last time we were in this situation I was Jack?”

You grabbed the lock on the door to open it at the same time as the door. But he was quicker and locked it again.

“Look we need to talk about whatever the hell is going on here before we have bigger problems with Robby.”

“There’s no problem on my end.”

“Then why can’t you look at me.”

You didn’t even realized that you hadn’t looked at him since you walked out of the bar. But he noticed.

“Dr.Abbott.”

“Yes”

“I don’t wanna have this conversation with you right now.”

“Then we’ll sit here until you do.”

He turned the radio up and put his head back. You tried to unlock the door again and once again he locked it.

“I have a better idea.” He put the car in drive.

“Where the hell are we going??”

He said nothing and drove for another 10 minutes. You considered calling someone. Langdon? Maybe Mel? But then again what’s the worst that could happen with him.

Next thing you know he’s pulling into a parking garage attached to an apartment building.

“Where are we?”

“My place. You can sit inside until we figure out what your problem is.”

“You have to be fucking joking with me right now.”

He said nothing, turned the car off and started walking towards the elevators. Fuck it. You jumped out of the car a d ran up to him.

Nothing was said all the way up to his place.

The place was nice, well decorated, clean. Almost the opposite of what you expected from someone like him.

He stayed quiet. Went to the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of tequila. Poured a little into 2 cups, handed one to you and then went to sit on the couch.

“We can talk whenever you’re ready.”

He sat down, drink in hand. This was the first time you had looked at him since the bar. He had a certain look of desire in his eyes as he sat there with his legs opened as if he was waiting for you to sit on his lap.

You walked over and sat on the couch across from him. Silence filled the room for a couple minutes waiting to see who would speak first. His eyes never leaving your body.

“I’ll talk to you once you stop lying to me.”

“Lying about what exactly?”

“That there’s no feelings here. Because there is absolutely no way you casually bring interns into your apartment like this without even one little shred of a feeling.”

He sat there saying nothing. Just bit his lip gently.

“Of course there’s feelings. But you know how bad this could end up for us if people found out. I can’t have you jeopardizing your future over someone like me.”

“Last time I checked, I’m an adult and can make decisions for myself.” You took a sip of the tequila before putting the drink down on his coffee table. He adjusted himself in his seat as you got up and walked over to him.

He reached around you putting his drink next to yours and got up in front of you.

“The decisions up to you. If you want this. I’m yours.”

Without hesitation, you were kissing him. Passionately. It was wet and steamy as he once again shoved his tongue into your mouth.

You felt as his hands began to wonder your body. He grabbed the hem of you shirt and pulled it off it one quick motion. You started with the buttons of his shirt. And before you knew it, he was leading you to his bedroom.

He made quick work of your pants. Leaving you standing before him in just a bra and panties. Lacey and matching of course. And he noticed.

“You wear this just for me darling?”

Without answering you turned him around and sat him and the edge of the bed. Taking his pants off slowing to tease him, you can see the outline of his big cock through his boxers. You lick your lips while looking into his eyes before sliding them off to reveal all of him.

“Like what you see?”

You gently nodded before grabbed him with both hands to fit it all. His dick is hot in your hand, skin like silk, veiny and throbbing and the sight of your mouth. You look up at him, his face flushed all the way up to his ears.

You spit on his tip and rub your saliva up and down. Taking a deep breath before sliding him all the way into your mouth as he hit the back of your throat. Your eyes began to water and you bounced your head on his throbbing cock.

His moans filled the room and he threw his head back with his eyes closed.

You cupped his hairy balls in your hands and began to rub them gently while still sucking him off. A couple minutes passed until he pulled you off.

Out of breath he said, “Shit sorry, I was gonna cum if you kept going like that.”

“That’s kinda the point.” You laughed.

Your weight was like nothing to him as he picked you up off your knees and threw you onto the bed.

“We’ll see who’s laughing when I’m done with you.”

He got on top of you and kissed you gently before slowly kissing all the way to your breast. He slid one hand behind you and undid your bra, exposing your hard nipples.

He sucked your breasts gently at first. Then he began biting, leaving marks to show you your his. He made his way down leaving a trail of kissing and bruises. Until he reached your lace panties.

He slid both hands underneath you to pull them right off. He kissed down the left thigh first then all the way back up the right thigh, stopping right at your pussy.

“Lets see how ready she is for me.”

He spread your legs open more before using his hand to open your folds. With 2 fingers he began to rub your entrance.

“She’s soaking wet for me darling, but I know you can do better.”

Without warning he plunged 2 fingers all the way inside your cunt. He curled them upwards as he pounded in and out. Before you knew it, his tongue was sucking your clit.

“Oh fuck Abbott!” You yelled as he fucked your creamy pussy with his fingers.

“Tell me how you like it.” He said sternly.

“Need you inside of me. Now.”

“Patience is a virtue my dear.” Three fingers were now inside of you. The he sounds of your wetness mixed with his saliva filled the room.

By this time your legs were shaking.

“Abbott please, I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum on my fingers darling. Do it for me.”

A couple more pulses in and out of you and you were screaming his name for the whole building to hear.

He pulled his fingers out of you and put them all in his mouth, sucking every last drop of you off while staring directly into your eyes with his piercing blue eyes

You laid there completely exposed to him. Every inch of your body was his now.

“Are you gonna fuck me now or what?”

“Your wish is my command.”

He grabbed his throbbing erect cock with the hand still wet from his mouth and positioned it in front of your glistening pussy.

“Shit, wait let me get a condom first.”

You grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving.

“No. I want to feel just you inside of me Abbott.”

“Call me Jack.” He smiled softly.

And with that last sentence he pounded fully into you without warning. You screamed at just the size of him. You had never taken a cock as big as his. He know he was huge but didn’t flaunt it.

“Ah baby girl, so wet and tight. Like this pussy was made just for me. Made for me to fuck you full of me until it’s got no choice but to fucking take it all.”

The bed shook as his thrusted his whole body weight against you. His balls slapping against the wetness dripping from your velvety pussy. Again not breaking eye contact.

“Tell me how you like it babygirl.” He said as he picked up the pace, hitting your g spot. Every. Single. Time.

“Oh fu- fuck Jack just like that, please don’t stop, keep fucking this pussy just like that.”

His free hand finds its way down to your clit, as his fingers rub tight circles around the bundle of nerves. You could feel his thick cock become hard inside your cunt.

“Mmm" you murmur with pleasure. You arch your back as his other hand slides under you pulling to closer to him, your tits too dangerously close to his face. Without much thought, he licks your nipple and then devours the whole breast with his mouth.

He moans into your breast as your nails dig into his back. His strokes getting sloppy, you can tell that he’s close.

“Ja, Jack please please.”

“Tell me what you need babygirl. Whatever you want is all yours.” He says as he continues destroying your tight cunt. You can feel his cock all the way in your stomach.

“Need to cum for you Jack, please I want to give it all to you baby. Please fill me up with your cum.”

“Mhmm that’s my dirty little slut. Knew you’d be mine the second you walked into the hospital. Just knew I need to fuck this cunt of yours.”

You could feel your legs starting to tremble under his weight. You could feel the pressure builiding inside your dripping pussy. You knew you were close.

“Jack, Jack, Jack, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“You don’t cum until I say you can cum.”

You knew you’d couldn’t hold it in much longer. “Please, please, ah fuck, cum inside me, I need it.

“That filthy mouth of your is gonna get you in trouble.” A couple of thrust later. “Fuck baby girl I’m gonna cum, ah shit.”

“Finsih inside please. I’m on the pill it’s okay. Need to feel you fill her up. Pl-please.”

Suddenly, your orgasm was rushing through every inch of you, crying out as the pleasure, choking Jack’s thick throbbing cock within your pussy, unable to do anything under his weight.

“Ah fuck baby girl, fuck, fuck.” With that he emptied his ball into you. He pushed himself in and out a few more times before collapsing of top of you. His hot breath in your ear as sweat dripped down his face.

He pulled himself out of you and rolled over next to you. He looked over and smiled.

“Guess we can tell Robby that we made up now.”

—————————————————————————

Ahhh that was my first story ! Hope you guys enjoy it ! Let me know what you think!

[shidoglazer]

nagi seishiro sfw & nsfw hcs mdni ＠shidoglazer

red = nsfw

- he’s like a shy lost puppy whenever he’s with you. ordering food? he’ll stare at you with those blank eyes for you to help him order. you tell him to mop the floor? stares at you with a blank expression since he only ever uses those automatic vacuums.

- but as soon as someone is rude to you, he’ll stand in front of you, putting his hand in front of the other persons chest and say “can’t have that, stop bothering her.”

- he’ll never admit it, but he gets jealous of you whenever you hang out with other boys too much though he’d never admit it since “feeling negative emotions is a hassle”. but trust, when you come home he’ll DEMAND affection from you

- if he scored a goal in any match, he’d look for you in the crowd and give you the SMALLEST smile if he sees you cheering. if you jst happened to be too busy to come that day, he’ll text you right after the match. “did you see my goal?”

- lets you do the talking every time you guys are together, although he looks like he’s just zoning out, he remembers every detail. bethany talked bad about you? he hates bethany for life. melinda defended you? melindas cool until you say otherwise.

- he’s the type to not be able to sleep without you. if you were cuddling the night before, as soon as you wake up and remove his hold from you, he’s stirring awake too and will walk like a zombie to wherever you are to drape his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder or head (depending on ur height).

- and if you’re not there during the night, he won’t even bother trying to sleep. it’ll be a cycle of shifting around and going on his phone, so he just settles to scroll mindlessly on his phone or bombard your phone with texts every 1 hour

- he doesn’t have much money (if we’re saying without reos help), so he tries his best to accommodate for you. he’ll make paper figurines of you and him, pick flowers from the garden outside his house for you and lets you play his video games (even if it means dropping in his online rankings from how much you’re messing up)

- he didn’t realise he LIKED you before you two started dating. he just enjoyed having you around with him, and just happened to be jealous whenever you had guy friends, and just happened to send you tickets to his matches every time there was one. when he told reo about it, he was like “nagi, do you have a crush on y/n?!?” “i guess i do.” “!?!?!?!?!”

- his favourite position would be cowgirl. he likes to be relaxed while watching your face squirm as you clench around him

- if you ask him nicely enough to have him fuck you, he’d definitely get you on all fours, have your ass up in the air for him as he holds onto your hips and pound into you roughly with a good pace, stretching you out. sex with him feels ethereal

- hes not even aware of how big his own dick is, he’s never inspected it closely because.. its weird for him. but its way bigger then average alright, i’d say 8 inches with a thick girth.

- nagi is most definitely a virgin, and since he’s only ever watched a few porn videos to get himself off when pent up, he has no idea what being gentle is, he thought you were just supposed to go right into it, and thats exactly what he did for you twos first time.

- it was SUDDEN. you were on all fours with your face mushed into the pillow when you felt something against your hole, you thought it was his finger to prep you, right? nope. he put all of it in in a swift motion, causing you to gasp and clutch at the sheets tightly while tears pricked into your eyes. “n-nagi!..mmfn, hnngh!! so big!. gimme a warning next time..” he’d lean down, stroking your hair as his hips stay put, expecting that you’d need time to adjust as he placed a kiss on your temple. “i’m sorry angel. ‘told you i din’t know how to do this. you’re squeezing me so tight.” you didn’t know wether to slap him or thank him.

- would not be a fan of public sex. first, its unsanitary. second, it’ll be an issue for both of you if you get caught. if he’s feeling really pent up with you, he’ll settle for whispering in your ear at best. “wait til w’re home baby, mmkay?” then would place a kiss on your temple and go back to whatever he was doing. he’s satisfied knowing you’ll be excited for him the whole day

- eventually, he felt like sex was getting repetitive with you. its not that he was bored or anything, he was afraid if you were bored. so he proposed a threesome with him, you and reo. you were confused, but accepted it anyways. you were on all fours on the bed with reo in front of you fucking your mouth, holding onto your jaw as he thrusted in and out, slapping your cheek softly occasionally, “eyes up here, darling.” while nagi was behind you, fucking into your hole ruthlessly, it was probably the fastest nagi went with you. thats how he realised he really, really, really hated sharing you. he never proposed a threesome ever again.

- was against the idea of oral sex, because he found it unsanitary and quite frankly disgusting. until he saw your glistening pretty pussy all spread out for him, he swore he almost drooled. his opinion quickly changed after he saw your face while he was eating you out, and moreso when you were cumming on his tongue.

- is into breeding/creampies. he didn’t even know about it until one day you came up to him and proposed it to him. he reluctantly agreed to make you happy, and that he trusted that you were on the pill. the first time he did it, he swore he felt heaven. and until now, whenever hes about to cum he’ll lean down to your level, resting his head on your shoulder “g’na cum.. can i cum inside? please angel? y’re on the pill right?” and as you nod and whine, he places a kiss on your head and starts speeding up likes theres no tomorrow.

- one day when both of you were just pent up, he did it in missionary position. and when he saw his cock bulging out of your stomach, he couldn’t help but to press on your abdomen, feeling how much of him you were taking. he found it so fucking hot. he leaned down to your face level, pressing a kiss on your lips. “y’re so cute, angel. y’r stomachs bulging for me.”

- okay last one i promise. whenever he’s too tired and lets you take the lead, you’ll purposely edge him and this man is a WHINER when he’s edged. he’ll reach out for you and literally start begging. “why’d you stop? don’t stop, i w’s close.. cmon angel, continue please? please baby.” he doesn’t know the concept of edging, just thinks you don’t mean to do it, so he justifies everytime you do so. its cute, really

★ check out my masterlist!

[mrsmangi]

past life - luigi mangione

♡ summary: luigi has never dreamed, but one night he finds you—familiar in a way he can't fathom. the dream of you blurs reality and fiction, leaving him yearning for more. ♡ w.c.: 1.6k ♡ a/n: hi. this is my first luigi fic. i was inspired by the post of luigi that has been going around about how moles are where your past lovers have once kissed you. i had to write something about it. enjoy!

—

Luigi does not dream. It’s a strange phenomena to him–one that draws his lower lip between his teeth and nibbles until the taste of blood floods his mouth. His friends are always telling him about their dreams: ones that are frightening, some exhilarating, others that are lustful. Dreams are illogical, irrational, and confusing.

There has never been an instance in Luigi’s life that he has been inherently ungrateful that dreams do not come to him in his slumber. He has other things to focus on: school, his family, his friends. Plenty of things keep him busy on a day-to-day business. Dreams are no fuss, but even he has to admit: when his friends are recalling their dreams to him, with stars in their eyes, he wonders if he’s missing out on something. That’s what bothers him.

He ponders it for hours at a time. Why doesn’t he dream? When he sleeps, why is he pulled into a vast pit of nothingness? He’s done his research, but it all just points him to the same direction: difficulty sleeping properly. But how? He’s done everything right: he gets 8 hours of sleep a day, wakes up in the morning without trouble, and feels properly rested each time. What is he missing?

Lack of REM sleep and fucked memory recollection just can’t be it.

Remembering your dreams can’t be distilled down to a science, but there are some tips you can try–

“Bullshit,” he groans tiredly, tilting his head back and dragging a hand down his face. With a sigh, he shuts his laptop and begins to prepare himself for bed. In the shower, it annoys him. As he brushes his teeth, gazing at his face, it annoys him. When he’s finally beneath the warm sheets of his bed, he is exasperated. As he falls asleep that night, Luigi’s thoughts drift into a thoughtless abyss and sleep overcomes him.

–

Something shifts that night in Luigi’s slumber. He can feel it in his bones, in his head that pulses with pain. He lets out an uncomfortable noise, shifting in bed. He suddenly becomes aware of the bed he’s in: one that doesn’t feel like his own.

There’s a soft linen beneath him, the kind he can’t imagine buying because it’s too expensive to afford, but somehow there it is. The smell of the sheets is faint, not entirely familiar, but not unpleasant. A little floral and musk, like the lingering scent of perfume.

The bed creaks and he feels himself stiffen. There’s someone beside him.

He wants to open his eyes, but his body won’t allow him. He really wishes it would because there’s a stranger in his bed (or is this his bed?). He feels the soft pressure of their arm against his own and hears the soft hum of their breath.

“Luigi.”

The sound of it is so clear, like a bell ringing out, and he realizes, even in his paralyzed state, it sounds different on this stranger’s lips than it ever has on anyone else’s. It’s quiet. It’s intimate. A tenderness he’s never quite known. If he could, he thinks he would laugh, but all he does is pause, stunned to a place that rests between awe and disbelief.

He’s dreaming. This is finally it. He’s dreaming and he knows it.

The air is thick around him, heavy with silence until they break it once more.

“Luigi,” they repeat, this time a bit louder, more insistent. It sounds like a girl. Her voice is warm and soft and so close–he feels like he could lean into her and let himself fall.

His eyes finally flutter open.

The first thing he sees is your smile. You’re looking at him with a calm, knowing expression. The sunlight catches your eyes as it slips through the cracks of your curtains. The room is bathed in the early morning light, the kind that makes everything look softer and unreal.

As he drinks in your appearance, Luigi is sure he’s never met you before. Your skin glows in the slanted light, a golden stripe drapes across half your face down to your bare neck.

It’s the oddest thing. He doesn’t question any of it as your smile softens and grows. The kind of smile he could never find himself deserving of, but somehow he’s found it anyway. Then, you lean in, pressing two soft kisses to each of his cheeks. One after the other–each more tender than the last. Your lips peck his cheek beneath his left eye, and linger further down when you bring them to the right side of his face, near the curve of his cheekbone.

At this gesture, he can’t help himself. He stares at you as though you’ve just grown two heads.

You laugh softly and melodically, as if his bewilderment is the most natural thing in the world.

“Luigi,” you say, playfully. “You’re staring.”

“I–,” he starts, voice catching in his throat, but you shake your head, still smiling.

“You should get used to this, you know,” you tease, rolling to your side. The blankets shift away from your body and your bare back is revealed to him. You stretch lazily, and he can’t find it in himself to look away. He watches you, transfixed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You pause, crossing your arms over your chests to cover your breasts. You look over your shoulder at him, hair glowing in the light like a halo. “Except to make us breakfast,” you grin and lean over once more to quickly peck his lips. You push yourself off the bed and pick up a plain white tee, previously discarded, from the ground, throwing it over your head. It fits you, just a bit too big, covering your body. He vaguely realizes it's his.

“Breakfast?” he murmurs. The word feels foreign on his tongue, as he attempts to piece together the pieces of a puzzle he can’t recall beginning.

“Yes, breakfast,” you reply, laughing again. You make your way to his side of the bed and place, yet again, another loving kiss to his forehead. The entire motion feels so natural, so lived-in, that he swears this isn’t the first time. It can’t be, but he doesn’t even know your name.

“Unless you’re planning to keep staring at me all day,” you call over your shoulder as you make your way to the door.

I might, he thinks and he startles himself. That doesn’t sound like himself, at all. Before he can say anything, though, before he can make sense of any of it, the room begins to fade. The light dims, you’ve walked out the door and your voice is growing distant, and he feels himself slipping away. He’s being pulled into something more uncertain than this.

He’s waking up. Panic sets in, but before he can get up to follow you, it’s too late.

–

He awakes with a sharp gasp, chest heaving and back aching. His heart pounds erratically, thrumming against his ribcage frantically, while a dull sting blooms in his chest. A longing he doesn’t fully understand settles in the pit of his stomach.

When he looks around the room, he’s certain that it’s his own, but it feels colder, heavier, emptier. His blinds are drawn shut, no traces of sunlight slip through to warm his face.

He sits up slowly, hands gripping the sheets as he attempts to ground himself. His cheeks burn faintly, and he swears he can still feel it–the plush of your lips.

Luigi feels his breathing become uneven as he swings his legs over the edge of his bed. The cool floor beneath his feet jolts him into wakefulness. Something inside him screams–check, see, know. With great rendition, he stumbles out of the room, his steps unsteady but urgent. His mind chases phantom traces of his dream–the very first dream he’s ever remembered–as if he can catch it before it vanishes from his grasp completely.

When he reaches the bathroom, his hand trembles as he flicks on the light. The stark, fluorescent glow floods the confined space, and for a moment he’s blinded. Then, he steps forward but hesitates, afraid of what he might, or might not, find. Shaking his head, he leans over the sink, his gaze meeting his reflection.

His face stares back at him, disheveled and familiar, but he doesn’t look away. He stares at himself with an intensity he’s never felt before. Eyes dark and searching himself, darting over every inch of his face–his brows, furrowed; his cheekbones, sharp and shadowed in the harsh lighting; his wild curls of brown hair, tousled from his sleep. He scans himself for something–anything–that might prove what he felt was real.

His eyes trail lower, to the faint flush of his cheeks, and there, just beneath his right eye, is a small mole. His gaze lingers on it for a moment before shifting to the left side of his face, where the second one rests near the curve of his cheekbone. He lets out a sharp gasp, clutching the sink until his knuckles begin to lighten. Though he’s seen them a thousand times before, something about them feels different now, as if they’ve been marked. By you.

Something stirs in his chest, a sensation that’s warm and blazing. The flicker of a flame.

He doesn’t even realize how much he’s trembling until he releases the sink from his grasp, hands raising to touch his face. His fingertips brush over the spots where your lips pressed against his skin. The memory of your warmth lingers, faint but undeniable.

It sends a shiver through him–not from the chill of his bathroom, but from the inexplicable comfort it brings. His chest tightens as a soft, quivering breath escapes him.

“It couldn’t have been real,” he says aloud, softly, as if it could make the statement indisputably true. Still, the warmth that blooms beneath his fingers says otherwise.

For the first time in his life, Luigi feels the ache of what he’s been missing all along.

[xdhluvrs]

Only if you say yes (pt. I) 𐙚⋆.˚

Pairing: non-idol Jongseob x Reader, coworker!Jongseob x coworker!Reader Tags: coworker au, afab reader, coworkers to lovers(maybe?), reader is a busy college student, potential fuckboy Jongseob, reader is just a little stuck-up, they work at a boba cafe <3 Warnings: sfw, suggestive content, no smut in this pt. but warnings will change for pt. II Word Count: 2.8k Synopsis: Working a closing shift at a boba cafe was supposed to be routine—wipe down tables, cash out, go home. But when your elusive coworker, Jongseob, suddenly takes an interest in you, the line between professionalism and temptation starts to blur. His charm is undeniable, his confidence intoxicating, and his attention to detail dangerously disarming. You know better than to fall for someone like him… but as the night unfolds, resisting him might not be as easy as you thought.

⭐️'s note: Hi all, this is my first fic ever! Writing this was so much fun - and it is absolutely dedicated to my Jongseob-loving bestie 🍇 <3 Please let me know what you think! I hope you all will stick around for part II. Any feedback, questions, comments, suggestions, etc. appreciated! Hope you all enjoy :D

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8:15 PM. Just a little over an hour until you’d be in your car driving home, finally able to rest your feet after a busy shift at work. The post-dinner rush had begun to ease, and despite the physical and mental exhaustion wearing you thin, you found yourself busy with pre-closing in hopes of leaving the store as quickly as possible. Working part-time at a boba cafe had to be the least demanding of your various commitments, but that didn’t make the eight hour shifts any less of a drag. Luckily, the gig paid well and was easy enough to balance with your busy class schedule and extracurriculars. You found yourself mindlessly wiping down tables, the lo-fi playlist left on by the morning crew fading into the background of your mind. Your coworker’s voice could be heard addressing a customer, obviously in the middle of a sale. Most nights you worked with just one other person, allowing one of you to manage the front while the other worked on various cleaning tasks. Tonight was lucky, because it was just you and Jongseob. Jongseob was your favorite closing partner for a variety of reasons - not that he’d have any idea, the two of you weren’t friends by any means. However, he had something that the rest of your coworkers lacked: work ethic. You knew that if you left him at the register, he’d be sure to have the kitchen cleaned in addition to taking care of any customers that stopped by. He was reliable in that sense; always hardworking, never late and he had even picked up a couple of your shifts in the past. Because of this, you respected him - but you knew the two of you were living completely different lives and therefore made little effort to get to know him. You were getting ready to matriculate into the graduate program of your dreams, and he was… well, he was a full-time employee at a bubble tea franchise. You didn’t look down at him for this, but you were more than okay with keeping him at an arm’s length - especially based on the way your other coworkers spoke of him.

“Did you hear Seob is back with Emma again? Yeah, I thought they had broken up too, but she was all over him at Stephen’s last night. Better not tell Vivian…” Even just earlier today, you’d heard the morning shift whispering about him as you were clocking in. They never spared any details in front of you, acting almost as if you didn’t exist. Not that this bothered you - if anything, you felt relieved to be spared from the drama. You were here for the hourly $18 plus tips, and that was about it. Nonetheless, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t listen when his name came up in their gossiping. Jongseob was undeniably attractive and it was a challenge to not be interested in him. He was as charming in his appearance as he was in his demeanor, and you weren’t surprised in the slightest that he had various women vying for his attention - though you did have enough self-respect to not join their ranks (or so you thought). He was confident and well-spoken, and you found his quirky sense of fashion to be unique and enticing. Even today, his perfectly-styled platinum blonde shag paired with a tee that barely covered his midriff could have him mistaken for an influencer in the wild. However, what was most attractive about him had to be his attention to detail. Jongseob never forgot a regular’s name or their order, often conversing with them about their personal lives with a look of genuine interest on his face. Despite barely talking to you, he always remembered to ask about your pets by name, and had been the only one of your coworkers to remember to ask about the status of your graduate school application. When you finally were able to tell him you’d been accepted into the program, he brought you your favorite drink from a nearby coffee shop you’d mentioned to him in passing. It was his ability to make people feel like they were special that made him so alluring and also so dangerous. Even in these small moments he had made you feel seen - and you were sure that the other women in his life held similar sentiments. 

Despite his attractiveness, you had been burned by charismatic men like him before and didn’t really feel like repeating mistakes of the past. Besides, you barely had enough time to get the proper amount of sleep each night - the last thing you needed was a workplace distraction to ruin your life. Pulling yourself from your thoughts, you check your watch after having successfully cleaned the dining room. 8:43 PM. Time flies when you’re busy thinking about the coworker you tell yourself you aren’t thinking about. You round the corner into the kitchen where said coworker was found scrubbing the emptied boba vats, his back facing you. You could see the slight protrusion of his earbuds from where you stood, and for a moment you listened to him quietly hum along to whatever he was listening to whilst scrubbing away at the sugar-crusted kitchenware. You mentally scolded yourself for staring and awkwardly snuck past him to reach the front of house, trying to think about anything other than how attractive he was when he was being a productive member of society. With the dining room all cleared out, you made the executive decision to turn off the open sign as well as the online ordering system. You couldn’t find it within yourself to feel bad for the potential customers who may have tried to come during the last ten minutes of operations - in your opinion, they deserved to be let down. Or maybe you were just jaded after having worked so many years in food service. You began to reconcile the cash drawer, thoughts drifting to what you might eat later tonight, when a familiar voice calling your name startled you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you there,” you turned to face Jongseob, who stared at you with a polite smile, his back pressed against the counter. His posture was relaxed, and your eyes followed the curve of his arms as they crossed beneath his chest, a silver bracelet collecting at the dip of his right wrist. “I’m all done with the back now. This might be record time for us.” Even just hearing him refer to the two of you as a unit flustered you, yet you made sure to show no signs of this.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” you said curtly while handing him his share of the night’s cash tips. “I just need to finish with the register and lock up the front, then we’ll be good to go.”

“I can finish up out front. I’ll be right back,” he responded, not missing a beat. You watched as he paced back through the kitchen and then into the dining room. If only all of your coworkers had his initiative. You noticed yet again that you were staring, and it took a moment to pull yourself back into the present and return to counting the bills in your hands. What has gotten into you today? Jongseob’s always been hot; tonight was no exception. However, it seemed like now - more than ever - you were distracted by it. In all fairness, you were having a bit of a dry spell at the moment, so it’s not like there was anything wrong with a pinch of lusting over a qualified candidate. Isn’t that what girlhood is all about? Your self rationalization was successful, and sooner rather than later it was time to clock out. You flipped the lights off and grabbed your belongings, heading to the back to punch your PIN code in before passing through the rear exit. You were usually the last person to leave the building, your coworkers seldom spending any more time at the store than what was absolutely necessary. Tonight was different - Jongseob stood blocking the door, the lack of light in the building disguising his face. At first, you thought there might be an issue with the PIN pad - but you soon realized he was staring at you with an unreadable expression. 

“Everything alright?” You asked inquisitively. You felt self-conscious; it was awkward to talk with him when there wasn’t a work-related reason to do so.

“Yeah,” he said plainly, “Just thought I’d wait for you to finish up. It’s late, want me to walk you to your car?”

Well, this was weird. You’re pretty sure you’d been just fine walking to your car every other evening you’d closed. The parking lot was within sight of the exit, and even after 9 PM there were plenty of people walking around the shopping center. Why ask now?

“I’m good, but thanks for the offer,” you said as you turned from him to clumsily jam your fingers into the PIN pad, designating  the end of your shift. Just as you turned once to push the exit door open, you felt Jongseob’s hand graze the back of your arm.

“Why are you in such a rush? You almost forgot this,” he said, presenting you with the half-finished green tea you’d been sipping on earlier this evening. In complete honesty, you’d forgotten about it hours ago and were more than okay with leaving it for the morning shift to deal with. 

“Oh thanks, almost forgot to toss that,” you said, taking the drink from his hand and chucking it into the trash bin just an arms length away. Now, you could finally escape from the discomfort, and you began to push open the door –

“Wait.” 

Jongseob placed his hand over yours on the door handle and you immediately flinched away from the contact, turning to face him instead with your back against the wall. Undoubtedly, this was puzzling behavior from him. Was he getting a kick out of your suffering? You stared at him, ignoring the newfound warmth on your skin from where he’d grazed you, waiting for an explanation. He still appeared calm and collected, but his actions suggested otherwise. He brushed a hand through his hair, fixing his posture as he began to speak.

“I feel like we’ve been working together for quite a while now, but I still know so little about you,” he said, softly smiling at you. “Let me walk you to your car.”

You had no idea how to respond to that, so you simply nodded in response and resumed opening the exit door. You heard him follow behind you, his steps increasing in volume as he joined you at your side.

“So,” he started, “are you busy this evening? I was thinking about grabbing something to eat on my way home…” 

You weren’t busy, but you also had zero intention of prolonging whatever was conspiring between the two of you.

“Yeah, I have plans,” you said, unconsciously quickening your stride. You hated how quickly your heart was beating.

“You’re not very good at lying, are you?” Jongseob was now smirking at you. “You can just tell me you’re not interested. I don’t mind.”

The two of you had reached your car at this point, and his gaze was becoming increasingly harder to meet.

“It’s not that I’m not interested, but I’m sure we both have better things to be doing,” you said, looking at your feet. You weren’t trying to disappoint him, and your interest in him was certainly present… but this was risky territory. You were no mind reader, so you couldn’t be sure of his intentions. However, if the rumors you’d heard about him held any truth, you were sure this would be a waste of time for the both of you. The only plausible reasons you could propose for his sudden interest in you were that he was A) secretly a serial killer plotting his next victim, or B) horny and reaching for the low-hanging fruit. Neither of these scenarios had an outcome you felt keen on exploring, so better to retreat as quickly as possible.

“What does that even mean?” He chuckled. “You act so preoccupied around me. Is it so unimaginable that I might be interested in getting to know you better?”

“Actually, yes.” You said, regaining some confidence. “You’ve had the past six months to do that. Why now?” 

“It’s not like I haven’t been trying,” he responded, “but you certainly don’t make it easy. You’ve never wanted to join when we hang out after closing. I kind of assumed you thought you were too good for us.”

Unfortunately, he wasn’t completely off. You genuinely had very little interest in your other coworkers. All they seemed to do was get drunk and start unnecessary drama with one another. It was a little too reminiscent of high school for your liking. However, his statement insinuated that you thought too highly of yourself to spend time with them - and you’d be lying if you said that didn’t sting a bit. 

“You assumed incorrectly,” you started, “I’m just really busy. I don’t always have time to go out after work.”

“Yeah?” he said, “Busy being top of your class? Busy spending every moment as efficiently as possible?” His teasing made your cheeks flush but you held his stare. He took a step closer to you, and in turn you took a step back, feeling your car door behind you.

“I know it can’t be easy working as hard as you do,” he cooed. “You really deserve to celebrate your accomplishments, don’t you think? What’s the point of all this effort if you can’t find satisfaction in the process?” The way he spoke to you was almost condescending.

“I do find the process… satisfying.” You said, awkwardly. “What are you trying to imply?”

“I might not be as useless to you as you think I am,” he said, the same smug expression still present on his face. “I’ve been told I’m pretty good when it comes to providing stress relief, and you definitely seem a little -”

“That’s enough.” You cut him off. Yep, your intuition had been spot on. “Look, you’re hot but I don’t want to sleep with you. Can I go home now?”

“Who said I wanted to sleep with you? All I was trying to say is that you look stressed, and I’m a great listener. If you’d let me take you to dinner, I’m sure I could lend an ear to your troubles,” he replied without hesitation. 

You so badly wanted to give in, but your pride wouldn’t let you. You wouldn’t be this easy.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.” You said coolly, and turned to unlock your car. Despite the lack of enthusiasm in your voice, you were sure the blush on your cheeks and the heat on the tips of your ears betrayed you. Nonetheless, you were committed to the bit, throwing your belongings in the backseat and preparing to say goodbye to the man who had gone to such lengths to pursue you. For a moment you thought that would be the end of your bickering, when suddenly you felt Jongseob gently place his hand over your shoulder. You spun around to face him, closer than you’d been to him the entire night. At this distance, you could make out the outline of each individual eyelash coalescing around his eyes and the soft freckles that decorated the bridge of his nose. His lips looked so colorful in contrast to his soft skin and platinum hair, and something about the way he held your gaze conveyed a sliver of yearning. Damn, he was good at this.

“Have a good night then,” he said, and proceeded to tuck a strand of your loose hair behind your ear. “But don’t expect me to give up so easily next time. You’re so obvious, you know? It’s cute…” He smiled at you once again before stepping back, allowing you to regain your sense of personal space. “Drive safe, Y/N.” 

And with that he turned his back to you and walked away, presumably to wherever he’d ended up parking. You found yourself still in a state of shock from the events of the past twenty minutes, trying to recalibrate and prepare yourself for the drive home. Sighing to yourself, you got in your car and began to drive, not even bothering to put on music with the current state you were in. When you got home, you noticed a text notification on your phone.

Jongseob (work): Hope you made it home safely

Jongseob (work): See you next week :)

Just seeing his name was enough to have you feeling butterflies. You left him on delivered and tried to remember what your life was like before whatever the fuck just happened with your coworker. Though it was painful to admit, you were already excited to see him again - for better or for worse.

[eddiazx]

confessions - eddie diaz x reader

Based on this request: So pre-relationship fem!reader x Eddie. The 118 is on one of their 24 hour shifts, and reader wants to surprise them by cooking a delicious breakfast. When they start to all wake up, or get back from a call, she's just finished putting the food on the table with fresh coffee and freshly squeezed juice, etc. After a little bit, she steps away for a min and everyone uses that time to ask Eddie why he hasn't made a move yet. Confession, first kiss, all the fluff please! 😘 Sidenote, reader is like a daughter to Bobby and he's alive in my heart ❤️

Eddie is aware he's staring, okay?

He can't help it sometimes. It's like his body and eyes know when you're around and he's being pulled towards you like a tractor beam.

Especially when you smell and look so good as you flit around the firehouse kitchen, plating cheesy scrambled eggs and French toast that could even give Bobby a run for his money.

(Not that anyone would say this outright to Bobby, but because you're practically his pseudo-daughter, Eddie doesn't think Bobby would even mind).

"Dig in, guys. I'm going to wash up before I join y'all." You give the 118 a beaming smile before walking down the steps towards the showers.

Eddie's eyes follow you, a faint smile present on his face. When he belatedly snaps back to reality, he realizes that Hen, Chim, and Buck are looking at him in various states of amusement.

"What?" He says, bringing a forkful into his mouth. He's met with a burst of flavour on his tongue. Damn, you're good.

"How long are you going to be pining after her?" Buck asks bluntly. It was the wrong moment to ask that, because Eddie had decided to put maple syrup onto his French toast just that second, and he squeezed the bottle a little too hard in a panic - sending drops onto Chim's face. Chim barely reacts, using his tongue to lick up the syrup as he continues to eat like a starved man.

"What? I don't know what you're talking about." Eddie laughs nervously, shoveling more food into his mouth in attempts to stave off this conversation.

Hen looks at Eddie then, knowledgeable and soulful brown eyes on his that makes Eddie want to confess every secret in the world.

Eddie sighs eventually. "I don't know how to ask her out. I haven't dated in a while, and I don't even know if she feels the same way."

The three others exchange a look that Eddie isn't able to decipher, when Eddie feels a hand on his shoulder.

"I have a very strong feeling your feelings are reciprocated, Eddie. Just be yourself." Bobby says kindly. Eddie is stunned, because if one of the closest people in your life can say that, maybe he has a shot after all.

Eddie swallows down the rest of his orange juice, before heading downstairs in search of you. He almost runs directly into you as you come out of the locker room.

"Whoa, hey!" You laugh, putting your palms on Eddie's stomach in an attempt to prevent a human crash.

Both of your bodies are extremely close, closer than you've ever been in the past few years. You realize after a second that your hands were still on his very, very firm abdomen, and drop them.

"Sorry." You chuckle nervously.

"Please don't ever apologize for touching me." Eddie mumbles, then blinks. You don't think he meant to say that out loud.

"Hey... would you want to go out to dinner with me? Just me? Like, as a date?" Eddie asks. Nailed it. He thinks to himself, self-deprecatingly.

Your smile is soft, sweet, and hopeful. "I'd love to, Eddie. When were you thinking?"

"How about tonight?"

You furrow your brow. "We're doing a 24 today, Eddie. We'll still be working."

Eddie smiles. "Don't worry. I'll find a way."

And boy, did he. Your first date with Eddie was a picnic on the rooftop of the firehouse, at 8:43 p.m. Your first kiss happened at 8:45 p.m., and Eddie first visits a ring store with Bobby not even a month into dating. At the end of the day, Eddie was tired of waiting - and he was going to love you hard and with his entire being.

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |1|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Talks of Killings and Murder

Word Count: 3.5k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Sam sighed as she put her key in the door, slowly unlocking each of the locks. She wanted to go to the gym after her shift, but she forgot her gym bag at the apartment. She really needed to look into renting one of the lockers the gym had. Her gym wasn’t too far away but coming home meant having to deal with Tara and her friends.

“Hey,” Sam greeted.

Tara was stretched out on the couch, Chad had his knees pulled close to him as he sat on the floor, watching whatever movie they had thrown on, Ethan was curled up on one of the chairs, and then Anika sat in the recliner with Mindy draped over her. Sam opened her mouth to ask about Quinn when she heard the usual noise coming from Quinn’s room.

“They’ve been at it since we got home,” Tara mumbled, rolling her eyes.

Sam chuckled with a shake of her head. The only downside to Quinn as a roommate was how loud she was with her various partners. Sam made her way across the living room and towards her room. She quickly threw on a tank top and some sweats before grabbing her gym bag. She did a quick check to make sure she had a change of clothes, just in case, before grabbing her water bottle and making her way into the kitchen. As she filled her water bottle the sound of Mindy and Tara got louder, arguing about whatever they were watching.

“I’ll be back in an hour or two,” Sam said.

“Wait,” Chad said, making Sam stop just as her hand rested on the doorknob. “You’re going to the gym?” Sam nodded. “Cool if I join?”

“I thought you preferred the one on campus.”

“I do, but I missed my usual workout time and now it’s crowded,” Chad wrinkled his nose. “I don’t want deal with all that.”

It wasn’t that Sam didn’t want Chad to come with her, she liked working out with Chad. Mindy and Tara never wanted to step foot in the gym, Chad was literally the only person who would ever workout with her anyway. Chad was also a football player and had a solid routine, he taught Sam plenty when she first started working out.

“Fine,” she said.

Chad instantly jumped up from his spot on the floor. He rifled through his backpack until he finally pulled out a little gym bag. Chad was pretty much always ready to go to the gym, but he had a habit of doing a pretty intense workout and would always need a change of clothes.

The two of them waved goodbye to the others and began the trek to the gym. It was only about a fifteen-minute walk before the little, locally owned, gym came into view. It was the only thing in an otherwise abandoned parking lot, it was small, it was dated, but it had its own community. Sam knew she was all over the news, her history was out there for everyone to see, but not a single person in the gym ever questioned her or gave her a dirty look. Everyone who went to the gym was there to work out, they were also friendly and willing to help each other out if needed, and the owner was the same way, the kindest old man Sam had ever met. It was also a 24-hour gym, meaning Sam could get there in the middle of the night after a late shift and not be disturbed or she could go earlier, like now, and have the regulars around.

When they finally got there Sam swiped her badge, unlocking the door. As soon as they stepped into the gym Sam took in the slightly crowded room. Chad rested his hands on his hips and took a big whiff of the air. Sam glanced at him out of the side of her eye, furrowing her brow slightly.

“What?” Chad asked. “This is why I love coming here,” he gestured with his hands. “You can smell the sweat, smell the workouts being done!” Sam shook her head; Chad didn’t come to the gym with her often but whenever he did, he was like an overly excited child. “The one at school has great equipment but it all smells new,” Chad wrinkled his nose. “No matter what…” he began rubbing his chin as if he was contemplating the deep question as to how the gym could always smell that good.

Sam lightly slapped him on the shoulder and pushed him towards the weights. She had never worked out in Chad’s gym, she wasn’t allowed to since she wasn’t a student, but she had seen it a few times and knew Chad was right, the school seemed to have all the new equipment. Her gym didn’t have much, just a couple of each of the standard pieces of machinery. The gym had enough to give whoever came in a full workout, but everything was clearly worn-down from years of use. Sam thought the used equipment just added to the gym’s character.

As Sam followed behind Chad towards the weights she caught sight of you over in the back corner of the gym, where you always were. She shook her head, she was there to workout, the sooner she finished her workout, the sooner she could get back home, and the sooner she could go to sleep. They each put in their respective earbuds then each grabbed a set of dumbbells and began their warmup before they could get started on the true workout.

After a quick warmup Sam and Chad both made their way to the chest press machine. Sam did everything in her power not to look at you and only focus on her workout. You were in her peripheral and it was taking all her focus not to turn her head just a little more to get a better visual. She tried to focus on just getting her reps in and that be that. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to listen to her music as she finished up her last few reps.

“Hey,” Chad said, tapping her on the arm. She looked up to see he had already finished his workout and was now on his feet and stretching. “Spot me?” he nodded at a bench press that was open.

Sam nodded, she didn’t use the bench press often because she usually didn’t have a spotter and as nice as everyone was in the gym she didn’t want to inconvenience any of them by asking. As much as she wanted to continue her workout, she didn’t mind the break if it meant helping Chad.

Sam stood behind the bench as Chad got the weights into place then laid down. She got her hands ready, holding them under the bar as Chad got ready to start lifting. Sam stayed behind Chad, watching as he started doing his reps, ready to grab the bar if he needed. At least that’s what she was supposed to be doing. The bench press was on the opposite side of the gym still, but it gave Sam the perfect view of you.

Her gaze was intense as she stared straight ahead, stared straight at you. You were across the way, hitting the punching bag, like you usually were. You were one of the regulars at the gym and you ran on almost the same schedule as Sam. Sam had never spoken to you, she couldn’t deny that you were quite attractive though. Though being on such a similar schedule as her made her suspicious.

There were times, like now, when you were there, training with a few of the others around in the gym. Then there were times where it was late at night, and no one was in the gym save for you and Sam. Sam had almost left the first time she got to the gym thinking she was alone, only to see you there. The only reason she didn’t leave then or any time after that was because you never did anything. You would sometimes acknowledge Sam with a simple nod, like a lot of the regulars, and that was it, otherwise you focused on your workout. You didn’t really talk to anyone, though neither did Sam, the only time you truly engaged with someone else was when one of your buddies was with you.

Whenever you were there Sam’s eyes couldn’t help but gravitate towards you, even across the room. Maybe in another life, one where she wasn’t so paranoid, one where she was normal, she might have approached you, just over a year ago she would have even flirted with you, she might have even asked you out, but her life wasn’t normal. You were cute but you were mysterious, and a mysterious stranger was exactly what Sam’s life didn’t need.

“What are you looking at?” Chad asked, snapping her out of her daydream.

Sam looked down to see Chad had put the bar back up, even without her assistance. His hands still rested on the bar, but he was looking up at Sam curiously.

“Nothing,” Sam said, trying to brush him off.

This was exactly why she liked going to the gym alone. She liked to go to the gym and just get her workout done without any distractions, she also didn’t want the others to know about you. You were her little secret, her little crush, the first crush she had had since Richie. If any of the others had learned that she was even remotely attracted to you she’d never hear the end of it, especially not from Mindy or Tara. Despite hating the gym, if her sister and Mindy knew about you, they’d be begging her to come with her every day.

“Who is that?” Chad asked. He was now sitting up on the bench and looked back at Sam with a smirk.

Sam closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh, she was just hoping she wasn’t blushing. Based on the way Chad’s eyes darted from her to you she knew Chad had figured out exactly what she was looking at. “Nobody,” she mumbled.

“That,” Chad pointed at you with a light chuckle. “Is not nobody.”

“They’re just a regular at the gym,” she tried waving it off again.

Sam walked off, making her way to the treadmill. She was silently begging for Chad to drop it, she hoped that if she didn’t acknowledge it then he’d forget about it, he wouldn’t say anything to Mindy or Tara. She hopped on the treadmill and began at a slow and steady speed, she liked to work her way up to a light jog.

She stared straight ahead, ignoring Chad as he leaned against the side of the machine. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I go say hi to them then,” he said. Sam stumbled, nearly tripping over her own feet as she snapped her head towards Chad.

“Don’t,” Sam warned.

“I’m just going to ask if they want to spar,” he held his hands up but was already walking away from Sam and in your direction. Sam didn’t miss the slight smirk on Chad’s face as he made his way towards you.

Sam let out a huff and started smacking her feet harder as she quickened her pace. If she finished her workout early then she had every intention of leaving Chad there, she might even lock the door and refuse to let him in the apartment for the rest of the night. She couldn’t help but glance out of the side of her eye every few seconds, catching sight of Chad as he approached you and tried striking up a conversation. It didn’t seem to be going as he intended based on the way you were shaking your head as he gestured from himself to you and then to the boxing ring in the middle of the room.

Most of the time Sam saw you alone at the punching bag. You would have your earbuds in and just focus on hitting the bag, as if the entire world disappeared and it was just you and the bag. At other times, like now, when the gym was busiest, Sam noticed that sometimes you’d get in the ring with one of the guys and spar a bit. You always used the same guys though, you didn’t randomly grab someone, and it seemed like you tended to deny anyone who just came up you, like she was sure Chad was about to find out.

After a few minutes of trying to convince you, Chad finally walked back over to Sam with his head hung low. Chad jumped onto the treadmill with a dramatic sigh and began a light walk. Sam rolled her eyes, shaking her head at Chad’s ridiculousness and focused on finishing her workout.

“What happened?” Sam finally asked, taking pity on Chad.

“They said no,” he mumbled, kicking his feet at the treadmill as he continued to pout.

“They don’t usually spar with random people.” Behind Chad Sam could see you getting in the ring with one of your buddies. Neither of you had on any sort of gear besides the tape on your hands. “And I think you’re about to see why.”

Chad scrunched his eyebrow then turned back to where you were in the boxing ring, you and your buddy already circling each other. You waited for your friend to throw the first punch, like you always did. You blocked your friends’ first few shots then you started throwing your own punches. The two of you went back and forth, dealing blow after blow, each of you landed a few hits, but both of you blocked most of them.

“Damn,” Chad whispered.

Sam smirked as she went back to focusing on her workout. Despite never looking back at you she could tell you and your buddy were still at it based on the way Chad never changed the speed of his treadmill, his entire focus seeming to be on you. She wouldn’t deny it, watching you spar was something else, you clearly knew what you were doing, it was obvious you had some sort of training. Sam never understood why you didn’t spar with others who were willing, until she saw you for the first time, everyone else here was an amateur compared to you.

Sam turned off the treadmill and slowed her pace until she came to a gradual stop. “You good?” Sam asked. She took a swig of her water while she waited for Chad to acknowledge her presence again.

“What?” Chad looked back at her before quickly looking back at you. You brought your knee up, nailing your buddy in the ribs, then didn’t hesitate to punch him in the face. Chad visibly winced at the hit before hopping off the treadmill. “Let’s go!” he waved at her as if he was the one waiting on her.

Sam rolled her eyes and followed Chad. Before she walked out the door, she met your gaze as you turned in the ring, the two of you probably only held eye contact for half a second but it was enough to make Sam hold her breath. The last thing she saw before the door closed was you and your buddy resetting your positions and getting ready for another spar session.

Sam had to listen to Chad ramble about you the entire walk home. She usually wouldn’t mind her thoughts being consumed by you but since it was Chad rambling, she knew Mindy and Tara would surely hear about it. She was just hoping she could get into the apartment and into her room before Chad started telling them all the details.

Sam put the key in the door, unlocking all the locks once again. “They’re just so badass!” Chad said, his eyes wide as he gestured crazily with his hands. “I can’t believe you tried to keep them from me!” Sam sighed, pushing the door open.

“Who are you talking about?” Tara asked with a chuckle as soon as the two of them stepped into the living room.

“Another one of your lovers?” Mindy snarked, laughing at her brother’s expense.

“Not mine,” Chad quickly denied. “Sam’s,” he pointed back at Sam, who instantly froze as she dropped her keys into the little bowl beside the door. She didn’t need to look to know Mindy and Tara’s full attention was now on hers.

“You’re seeing someone?” Tara said. She was already on her feet and in front of Sam by the time she turned around.

“I’m not seeing anyone,” Sam sighed.

“Who is this mysterious stranger?” Mindy asked, coming up right behind Tara, leaving Anika to sit alone without a second thought.

“Y/N,” Chad happily supplied. All three girls whipped their heads around to see Chad placed at the dining table, popping open a yogurt. Sam tried to hide her smile, she hadn’t known your name, it was a nice name.

“Tell us everything!” Tara said, dragging Sam by the hand to the dining table.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Sam shrugged. “I don’t even-”

“They’re badass,” Chad interrupted, never looking up from his yogurt. “I asked them to spar, and they said no but then I learned why.” Chad looked up at the ceiling in a daydream like state, tapping his spoon against the yogurt cup. “I want to spar with them even more now.” Sam furrowed her brow, tilting her head at the comment.

“You’ve been holding out on us Sammy,” Mindy said, bumping her shoulder as she plopped down into the seat next to her. Sam flicked a glare at her, but Mindy’s attention was fully on Chad. “Spill,” she ordered, leaning half her body across the table.

Sam crossed her arms and slumped back in her chair. She had to sit there and just listen as Chad rambled on and on about you. She wasn’t sure how he could possibly have so much to say, he talked to you for not even ten minutes. He gave the girls a complete recap of their entire gym experience, Sam was definitely regretting allowing him to come with her. He gestured wildly with his hands, trying to mimic the same punches you had been doing.

“Wow,” Tara and Mindy said at the same time, both leaning back in their chairs once Chad was done.

“Are you sure you’re not in love with them?” Mindy asked, tilting her head at her brother.

“No!” Chad said quickly, a little too quickly. “I just think they’re amazing and I admire their workout routine, and I just want to get to know them and become their best friend…” Mindy nodded but gave her brother an unconvinced look.

“Can we go to the gym with you tomorrow?” Tara asked.

“They might not be there,” Sam mumbled without thinking.

“Oh!” Mindy screeched right in Sam’s ear. “You know their schedule.” She wiggled her eyebrows as she looked past Sam and at Tara who was giving her a knowing nod.

“We have a very similar schedule,” Sam defended.

“Sounds like a match made in heaven,” Mindy sighed, leaning into Sam’s side.

“I’m not looking for a relationship!”

“Come on Sam,” Tara sighed, much more calm than before. “You deserve to be happy. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“My last boyfriend tried to kill all of us,” Sam deadpanned, looking her sister in the eye.

Tara opened and closed her mouth a few times as she nodded. “But what are the odds of that happening again?”

“Guys!” Anika called, interrupting whatever excuse Sam was going to come up with next. “You have to see this.”

Everyone got up from the kitchen table and moved to the living room just as Anika turned up the volume. Everyone remained silent as the news played, talking about the murder of two college students. Sam didn’t even react to Quinn coming out of her room and joining them.

“It’s got everyone asking, is this the work of Ghostface?” the news reported said, ending the broadcast before showing the picture of the two boys murdered.

“Holy shit,” Mindy said. “Those are the dudes from our film class,” she pointed at the screen.

“We have to leave, now.”

“What? No!” Tara said, instantly trying to fight Sam. “We don’t even know what this is!” she pointed to the TV. “It could be nothing; they were clearly freaks!”

“Are you really willing to take that risk?” Sam snapped.

“Quinn! Call your dad,” Tara whipped around to look at their roommate. “Let’s at least figure out what’s going on before you uproot my life.”

Sam held Tara’s glare but didn’t argue as Quinn called her dad. She understood where Tara was coming from, she knew Tara wanted things to go back to normal and just wanted a normal college experience. Sam wanted to just cut and run though, even if there was no proof that Ghostface was actually back, she didn’t want to take the risk. Sam couldn’t help the feeling that it was starting all over again.

[jealousmartini]

twin you haven't posted in twelve hours are you good

Hey girl! So I shifted.

Accidentally. But fully this time. Well, Fully-ish because I pussied out of fear. No, fully, actually. Wait wait let me explain.

So get this. I woke up.

But not with my eyes. Just mind, body, and soul slowly becoming aware of her surroundings through the heaviness of sleep if you get what i mean. And it was just too warm and familiar and soft. The bed I mean. Way too comfortable for me to want to open my eyes yet, so they stayed shut, blissfully unaware of the fact this bed is not mine. My senses were slowly yet surely locking in. But my brain was not even fully awake. So I was feeling and being without fully realising what was happening

And then I heard the faint click of what i figured was the front door unlocking. Then opening. Then shutting. Then, locking with a key. I assumed that must've been my brother because he usually escapes into the dead of night to go whatever 23 year old guys do at night. And I heard some thick chunky ass boots stumble to the floor and i wondered when he ever wore boots never mind this dense, his heavy padded footsteps gradually got closer slightly muted by the door being closed.. which was then opened (?). It was a small thing, but it didn't make sense why my brother would need to be in my room at all, nvm at this time of night. But anyway, some shuffling was done. I cocked my brow in suspension, eyes still shut btw, cus what did he just go through my stuff for. And as quickly as he was in, he was out of the room. I made a mental note to confront him in the morning about it.

And then I heard the shower start. From the wrong side of my house... Now I know the anatomy of my house pretty well, so I was confused why I could hear the shower from the west instead of the northeast of my room.

After the shower stopped, i heard the bathroom door open, close, and the same as mine. He took like 3 steps in, and this was when i heard him call my name. He whispered it like a question, i dont think he was sure if i was asleep or not. But it was weird because that's not my name. Well it is, but it's not my name from here. And it's definitely not a name my brother from here knew. And then I realised I knew that voice too, but it was different from what i was expecting. Pretty deeper and rougher than what im used to remembering, and it was definitely NOT my brother's.

And so now I'm frustrated. And kinda nervous. Im laid on my side, the same one as i was on when i first began to wake, but now im slightly tense with frowed brows and all. I'm dealing with so many questions at once like why is the house formatted weirdly? and who the fuck is in my room?? and why the fuck did the bed just dip from behind me???

I literally had a question mark in my head when the voice spoke again. But this time, he was closer. Much closer. I FELT his arm, his muscular arm at that, wrap around my waist and pull my back flush against his BARE NAKED CHEST, and I gasped. I fucking gasped. I swear my heart was about to beat out of my chest. My body jolted forward almost involuntarily at the sudden contact of skin, the feeling on his freshly shower-hot muscular bare chest was making me SWEAT and I heard him mumbled against the back of my neck "Shh don't wake up," and I was thinking "Oh i definitely know who this is" And girl I wasn't fucking planning on it anyway. But I ended up shifting back with my eyes squeezed SHUT like the pussy I am

Because I didn't even expect myself to shift that night. The night after my first day back at college from the Easter break. And now I'm supposed to come in like I wasn't just in another man's bed.

Now i dont have the guts to actually say who this was. Im practically shaking right now for fucks sake. But im sure everyone and their mother on this app who sees my blogs can make an educated guess and get it right first time. And after 8 years of knowing about mha and 6 years of trying to shift there, ladies and gentlemen I think I can officially say I have shifted to mha. It definitely wasn't my main mha dr, some would probably argue it was even better lmfao. I guess the secret to shifting really is just letting go.

[trying-harder-then-u]

Johnny's Daddy

Johnny has been my friend since forever, and while we grew apart in High school, we would always make sure to comfort each other through all the tough times. He helped me with my breakup, and I helped him when he lost his job.

Johnny was always on the smaller side; Puberty Hit never really got to him, and while he never got the muscles he wanted, he eventually became quite happy with his body and my numerous numerous offers to wing man him and help him get a girl were always turned down.

Earlier today, my phone pinged while I was at work. Johnny had messaged me:

"Hey man, could you come to my place after work?"

"Sure? What do you need?"

"I'll explain when you get here."

Me and Johnny had always been open and clear without ever really needing to talk outside of texts, so I thought this must be something big if he wanted to talk about it at his place, so after work finished up, I got in my car and drove to his apartment in the city. After a good 50 minutes of driving through the winding roads, I finally arrived.

As I opened the door, he came and hugged me. "How was the drive?" "Nothing special, just some traffic jams and that stuff," I responded. For the first few hours, we just hung out talking about life and playing games before I finally asked why he wanted me here: "Well, I wanted to tell you I was gay." he blushed as he said it, "Damn man, thanks for telling me; I'm glad you trusted me enough to tell me, do you want to go to a gay bar or  something?"He shook his head at my question: "You don't understand; I've been trying to get a boyfriend for awhile now, but it never works out, and I wanted to ask you if...." "I'm sorry, man," I interjected. "I love you like a brother, but I don't feel the same way about you." "Okay, sorry, I hope we can still be friends," Both of us laughed awkwardly at the incident, but decided to hang out some more. At about 6, we were both getting hungry, so he ordered a pizza, and he got up to grab us a drink. I heard what sounded like pills rattling in the kitchen before he returned with some beers, caps removed. "Thanks, man," I said as he handed me one. Taking a sip, I thought it tasted funny, but I just shrugged it off as the pizzas had just arrived and i was starving.

As we ate and played video games, it became latter and latter, and the beers piled up, each tasting stranger, then the last. At some point, my mind started to became fuzzy. "Ugh, I don't feel good," i said. "You don't look good either. Maybe you should just sleep here for the  night."Johnny commented, Too tired to argue, I ended up on his couch and fell asleep quickly as he went back to the room. "You'll be fine; I bet you feel like a new man tomorrow morning," he called as he closed the door.

That night, as I shuddered in my sleep, my body began to change, moving around as my stature grew, stretching from 5 feet 8 to 6,2. My flab melted away as my skin tightened around new abs that began to push out one by one, and calves became strengthened along with arm muscles. My round face gained structure as a square jaw and clear skin gave my face a new, more attractive look. But it wasn't just my body changing; my dreams began to shift; thoughts that I used to have about women became directed towards Johnny; as I dreamed of dominating and using him, the apartments that we each had eventually became one, just as my place had his boyfriend cemented, and soon I was picturing him submitting to me every night. As these dreams peaked, I felt my dick pulse, lines of cum shooting out as my rock-hard cock lengthened, growing longer and longer inside my underwear from it's normal 4 inches to a monstrous 9, and my boxers turning to briefs as they were soaked in my semen. The transformation was over, and my new place in the world was confirmed.

The next morning, Johnny smirked as he walked in to be greeted by me staring at him in nothing but my briefs. "I have a job for you, boy; I need some services," I commanded, His dick jumped up, and his body shuddered as he moved towards me. All memories of my past life disappeared as he wrapped his lips around my dick; all that mattered was teaching my boyfriend his place.

[callsign-rogueone]

unfit to serve

Sawyer Henrick x reader (peach!) words: 3.0k 🏷: no book spoilers, getting into october in the iron flame timeline. mentions of a self-inflicted wound (not described in detail / not shown "on screen"), everyone's least favorite infantry cadet makes an appearance, stalking / unhealthy obsession behaviors, sawyer to the rescue. I promise these two will figure their ish out, but today is not that day.

“There’s nothing we can do — nothing he’s done has been an explicit violation of the infantry code of conduct. I suggest you make it clear to him that you aren’t interested -- no more mixed signals. Now run along. Believe it or not, you have patients to attend to.”

“She really said that to you?” the younger healer asks, slack-jawed.

“Word for word.”

She looks both ways, leaning forward to whisper to you. “What a heinous bitch.”

You raise your hands in playful surrender. “You said it, not me. She’s the one person I won’t miss when I graduate.”

“Besides him.”

“Besides him,” you agree. “Alright. Your turn to go eat. I can hold down the fort for a while. Sawyer will be here in a bit, anyway.”

“Are you ever going to make a move on him? If I had a handsome rider boy making me jewelry in his free time, I’d definitely kiss him. And it would be so cute. It already is cute. Childhood friends to college sweethearts to cute old married couple. Just like the colonel and his wife!”

“I told you—”

“It’s just pretend,” she says, sighing, “I know. But don’t you want it to be real? Even a little bit?”

“Get out of here before I change my mind,” you say dryly, and she laughs, scampering off.

“See you in half an hour!”

Speak of the devil and he may appear. You’d hide, but it’s too late — you’ve already made eye contact. You pull your gaze away, down to the bloodied towel he’s holding around his left arm. So he’s actually injured this time — but you really don’t feel like being behind a closed door with him, and going to ask one of the senior healers to do it for you wouldn’t be a great idea. It feels like they’re already out to get you.

Thankfully there’s supplies in every room here, including the intake area.

You nod to one of the chairs, turning to wash your hands. “Have a seat.”

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he starts, sitting down. “How have you been?”

“Well, thank you.”

No details, no extra pleasantries -- no information he could use to keep the conversation going, or to be creepy about at a later date.

He lays his arm across the table, unwrapping the towel. It’s not gushing blood, thankfully, but it’s a nasty scratch that will definitely need stitches. You turn to scratch out a note, needing a break from his stare. Friday October 5th, 634 -- 11:20am. Laceration, left forearm, ≈4 inches long, ¼ in deep.

It occurs to you that all the injuries you’ve treated for him, bar the first one, have been to his left side. You flip back through the thickened folder that holds his records, confirming; left arm, left leg, left side, left leg, left arm… And the times… 9:07, 8:19, 7:45, 9:24, 8:21… always when you’re on shift. Once is an incidence, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern, but five? Five is getting toward concrete proof.

“James,” you ask gently, and he perks right up — you never call him by his name, one of the lines you’d attempted to draw that he’d breezed right past without even noticing. “Can you tell me how this happened?”

He blinks at you for a second before he makes a recovery that isn’t as smooth as he thinks it is. “I was helping some of the first years with sword fighting. They’re pretty good.”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, looking back at the wound. You’ve held a sword before — not that you know how to use it — but if he was in a proper stance, using two hands, they would have come down against his right arm, not his left, and it wouldn’t have been so straight, or so deep. This wasn’t sideways pressure, but downward, into the muscle.

But he wouldn’t… Would he?

“I’m just concerned about you, is all,” you say carefully. “You’ve been in here a lot lately.” You tap the folder with a fingernail to illustrate your point. 

You really don’t know where to go with this, but you’re letting him steer the conversation, to see what he’ll tell you. You’ve watched the older healers do this dozens of times; empathize with the first complaint and wait to see if they tell you something serious. You’d fallen for it yourself once as a younger cadet, having mentioned how tired you were that week — and then when Winifred asked more questions, and you told her that you’d been having dizzy spells, you were promptly whisked away for examination and given supplements to take. You felt perfectly fine again within three days.

“Occupational hazards,” he offers with a smile. 

“Yeah,” you reply distantly. “Guess so.” You’re just jumping to conclusions. There’s no way that he did this to himself. It would hurt like hell, for a start. But he doesn’t show any signs of discomfort, smiling at you even as you apply the extra-strong disinfectant that you’ve seen make even the toughest riders wince. You press near the edge of the wound with a gentle fingertip — no reaction to that, either. He remains completely straight-faced, his eyes not leaving yours.

He takes advantage of the lull in the conversation, changing the subject. “Did you get my letter?” He looks genuinely eager, and for a moment you almost feel guilty for letting Sawyer have Sliseag torch it. 

“I did,” you answer, regretting it immediately when you realize that you just confirmed which room you sleep in. “James… I’m sorry, but this isn’t happening. And I’ve told you before, I already have a boyfriend.”

He laughs. “That rider friend of yours? Please. You do know that he was held back a year, right? Couldn’t hack it the first time, so they made him start over again. I guess the second time’s the charm, not the third.”

Your jaw clenches, but you remain silent.

“You deserve better than some second-pick farm boy, anyway. What you need is stability,” he offers. “Someone who has enough so you won’t have to work, and who won’t be in service for the rest of their life — and won’t break their neck falling off a dragon, and leave you to raise the kids alone.”

You can’t hold it back. “You don’t know anything about me. You don’t know what I want, because you’ve never bothered to ask, and you certainly don’t know what I need. I made my choice, and I love him. I’m sorry that you don’t understand, but you don’t have to.”

He sighs. “What’s it gonna take for you to stop playing hard to get? I’m tired of this game. And it’s such a bitch to change bandages every time I shower.”

He thinks this is all a game?

So you were right, after all.

“You did this yourself?”

“Of course I did. They were turning me away when I needed anything less than stitches, so I didn’t really have a choice.”

There’s a soft rustle from the other side of the room, and you come back to your senses just in time to see someone slip down the hallway, a blur of black and auburn. That can only be Sawyer. Did he hear all of that? If the gods haven’t forgotten about you, then he did, and he’s going to get… someone. But will the older healers even believe him, after they’d dismissed your complaints weeks ago? And what are you supposed to do in the meantime, sitting alone with him?

Finish stitching, you suppose. The bleeding has slowed to a trickle, and he’d made a clean cut, so it’ll be easy enough. You occupy yourself with preparing your supplies, hoping he won’t press you further — you still haven’t responded to his question, or expressed any reaction to what he just told you.

Thankfully he seems content to just be sitting in your presence, but the feeling of his eyes on you is incredibly unsettling — like you’re being watched by a wolf who’s ready to strike.

But a wolf would only kill out of necessity, and make it quick. Men like to play with their food.

Just breathe. The odds of someone walking in right now are pretty high, and if it’s anyone but his two infantry friends, you’ll be safe physically. 

You just need to tell someone what he told you. Someone with authority.

“Cadet Lowen,” the mender greets, and you stand too quickly, hands behind your back in the position of attention.

“Colonel Colbersy,” you reply, trying not to sound too relieved. Caleb is with him. He’ll believe you. He has to.

The mender looks exhausted, and so he, but they still offer James disarming smiles. “Let's get you fixed up, son. Come back to my office.”

As soon as he’s turned away from you, you catch the healer by the elbow, signing — he did it. hurt himself. 

Caleb nods. Your rider told me. 

You press the file into his hands, continuing. Five times. 

His eyes widen.

Because of me.

His lips part to speak, but Nolon beckons him forward, steering James through the double doors leading to the exam rooms. You hold your breath until he’s out of sight, releasing it in a soft shudder as soon as they’re gone. 

You strip off the healer’s robes with trembling hands, tossing them aside carelessly and striding toward the sink. You finally start to cry, your vision blurring with tears as you lather up to your elbows, desperate to get this terrible feeling off of you.

“Peach,” Sawyer begins delicately, laying a hand on your arm to stop you from scrubbing your skin raw, and you flinch away.

“I’m sorry, I just… I don’t want to be touched right now,” you sniff. 

He retracts his hand immediately. “I understand. Say the word and I’ll leave.”

“No,” you whisper, watching the water run, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Okay.” He leans against the counter beside you, a few feet away, speaking softly. “From what I saw, you handled that incredibly well. And you did the right thing. The leadership is going to get him help.”

You nod numbly, rinsing the soap from your skin and turning the tap off. He hands you a towel, and you take it silently, drying your hands. You feel like you need a full shower after the last ten minutes, your skin still feeling unclean despite being washed thoroughly with soap and water — maybe too thoroughly. Your hands feel dry and irritated, stinging from the steaming water you’d used. 

You’re still trying to wrap your head around all of this. “He was injuring himself because of me. Because he wanted an excuse to see me.”

Sawyer doesn’t hesitate with his response. “He did those things because he’s unwell. None of this was your fault, peach. I need you to understand that.”

You don’t respond, still wrestling with the guilt, wracking your brain to think of anything you could have done differently. But if he hadn’t gotten so attached to you, would he have become obsessed with another of your classmates instead? Any girl who smiled at him and listened when he spoke, like all healers are instructed to? Would another girl have accepted his advances, and unknowingly walked into his trap? What would he have done if she realized who he really was inside and decided she wanted out?

“Lowen,” the colonel says gently.

You look up at him through teary eyes, placing your hands behind your back again — regretting taking off your robe. “Yes, sir?”

“You did the right thing. He’s going to be declared unfit to serve, and he’ll get the help he needs.”

You nod quietly, not sure what to say.

“I’m grateful that your friend found me before anything else could happen. And I’m sorry that I hadn’t had a proper handle on this situation until now. I hadn’t realized how serious it was. Take tomorrow off, and get some rest. I need my best third-year in good condition,” he says warmly.

The compliment doesn’t fill you with pride like it usually would — you just feel numb, hollow except for the guilt churning in your stomach that still hasn’t gone away. “Thank you, sir.”

You remain at attention until he leaves, disappearing back down the hall to whence he came. 

You look up at Sawyer. “I’ll be okay,” you say softly. “He’s right, I just need to wash it off.” Literally. You’ll take the longest shower of your life, and probably cry again, and that will help — hopefully.  “Thank you. For all of this. If you hadn’t been there to see me… I’m just so relieved that this is over.”

“Of course, sweet girl.” He picks up your hastily-discarded robe, draping it over his arm. “Let’s get you out of here, hm?”

“I still need to clean up and do some paperwork,” you say softly. “You go on ahead— I don’t want you to be late for class, and I’ll be fine to walk back on my own now that he’s gone.”

“Okay,” he responds quietly.

You take the robe back from him. “Tell the others I say hi.”

“I will,” he promises, still lingering.

You offer him a sad smile, starting to clean up the supplies you’d used. You’ll need to wash your hands yet again after this, but you need to occupy yourself with something or you’re going to start crying again — and you can’t bear to watch Sawyer leave right now.

Hearing his footsteps retreat is hard enough.

Sleep doesn’t come easily to either of you that night — you both lie awake for a while in your matching beds across campus from one another, thinking about the day’s events, and wondering what this will mean for you and your little ruse of a relationship.

——————

“It’s almost eleven thirty, dude. Scoot,” Ridoc reminds, but Sawyer makes no move to leave. “Okay, something is definitely up with you. Spit.”

“James is being declared unfit to serve,” he answers tiredly, still looking at his textbook. “Turns out he was injuring himself just to have an excuse to see her.”

There’s a collective inhale from the table. “Yikes.”

Rhiannon looks at him, confused. “So he’s finally going to be out of her hair. That’s good — why are you so bummed?”

“She doesn’t need me anymore.”

Oh.

There’s a short silence before his friends jump in to help. “Did she tell you that?” Violet asks.

“She thanked me for everything, and said she’d be fine on her own. This whole thing was supposed to get him out of her hair, and now he’s getting discharged, so the logical conclusion is that it’s over.”

“So that’s a no,” Ridoc says. “Got it.”

Sawyer ignores him, continuing to scratch out notes half-heartedly.

“You don’t have to stop seeing her, you just might stop the boyfriend stuff for a while,” Violet reasons. 

He finally looks up at them. “I can’t.”

Three sets of eyes blink back at him, confused.

He sighs, shutting the textbook. “You don’t get it, guys, I’m screwed. So, so screwed. I look at her and I just want to take care of her. It’s been like this ever since I saw her again at land-nav. When she told us about that infantry creep, I was ready to go over there and knock his fucking teeth out, but she looked so scared that all I wanted to do was hold her, because she is so good and pure-hearted and she doesn’t deserve to be scared or in pain, ever. And now that we started this whole fake-boyfriend thing, and I get to take her out to town and pick her flowers and all that, I can’t just stop and go back to being friends. I want to do that stuff for her forever, but I know she doesn’t want anything real with me, and even if she did, in less than a year she’s gonna graduate and leave to gods-know-where, and it’ll all be over like that, all because I wasn’t good enough to be chosen at Threshing the first time around.”

“Okay, first of all, breathe,” Rhiannon instructs, “and quit the self-deprecation thing. That’s water under the bridge. If you hadn’t repeated, you wouldn’t have seen her at land-nav, and you wouldn’t have been able to protect her from that creep, because you wouldn’t even have known about him.”

The thought makes him feel sick. What would have happened if nobody had seen you with James yesterday and gotten help? If Sliseag hadn’t protected you in the forest? Would James have hurt you for declining his advances, or hurt himself again?

“Second, did she tell you that she doesn’t want you? Or are you just assuming?”

Sawyer is quiet in a way that the table interprets as another no. 

Ridoc chimes in, never one to stay silent. “Just take her out again, drop some line about wishing this was real, and boom. Instant happily-ever-after. It was so easy for you guys to click again after two years apart — you can handle a year of long distance! And then if you get married, they have to station you together for the rest of your service,” he adds. “And they pay you more.”

Sawyer doesn’t look convinced. “I can’t just pretend that this never happened. I don’t want to. She’s fragile right now. The way she looked yesterday… I haven’t seen her cry like that in years. And she didn't want me to touch her, which isn’t like her at all. It was scary, honestly.”

“Poor girl,” Rhiannon frowns. “This all must have been traumatic for her.”

“So be there for her,” their newest squadmate stresses, finally speaking. “Keep showing up, and let her talk to you about all this. She doesn’t need a boyfriend right now, or a bodyguard, but she does need someone, and that should be you.”

Everyone turns to her, having forgotten she was there  — she flushes at the attention, returning to her sketch.

Sawyer sighs. “Nolon gave her the day off today, but I might go by tomorrow and see her.”

[drabblesbyjubs]

Just Need Time

Astarion x gn! Tav Reader, Astarion is pent up but also wants to please the reader, he makes himself want to have sex with reader but reader stops him and helps him figure out what he really wants. Fluff, smut, a little bit of angst. Minors DNI

Tws// mentions of sexual trauma, Astarion’s backstory stuff, mild disassociation for a few minutes, trauma, mild spoilers for non ascended Astarion’s ending, sexual content and smut

.

I want everyone to know that I got stuck working an 8 hour shift as a cashier on my last day of work so I wrote this between customers, enjoy and here’s to my new job

Time with Astarion is sacred.

After nearly losing him multiple times throughout your journey to rid yourselves of the mind flayer parasite, you’d come to appreciate every second you spent with him. Every moment during the day, snuggling and spending time with one another, and spending the nights running through Faerûn and enjoying the adrenaline of exploration, it was all beyond precious to you both.

But especially to Astarion. For the first time in two centuries, he belonged to himself; he could go where he wanted, do what he wanted, be what he wanted. He was free.

That didn’t mean he was alright, though.

Being with you had helped. You’d shown him freedom, devotion, and everything he’d ever wished he could have had in a partner. But part of his mind was still stuck in that dark, dank crypt, the smell of mildew festering in his lungs, the fear at the sound of every footstep lurking in his heart. The nights he was let out, but not to be free, only to use his body to gain some innocent soul’s trust and bring them back for him to take out his most wretched fantasies on.

Astarion was usually the victim of these fantasies, but if Cazador truly did what he wished with Astarion, well, there would be no more Astarion to take out those fantasies on.

Those memories plagued his mind nearly every night. He often woke from the nightmares feeling utterly emotionless, numb to the world. Fear aches low in his heart, and he would roll over and scoot up to you. You took him in to your arms with no question; you already knew.

Sometimes he would jolt out of bed, too enveloped by the memories to realize it was you next to him. He would become defensive, either scared of you or insisting you leave before he came back. When he snapped back to reality, he was utterly humiliated, but you never shamed him, always made him feel like everything would be okay, and he would forget about the terrors of the night before by the time you two set out for adventure after sunset.

He wanted more than anything to be like a normal person; completely comfortable in his relationship, never a fear that things would go awry, blindly trusting and accepting of everything you did. You understood why he couldn’t be like that, and did your best to make him feel as close to normal as he ever could. And gods, did he love you for that. You were utterly hypnotizing, he would tear out his heart with a stake if you asked him; hell, he would carve the stake himself. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for you.

And even if you assured him he owed you nothing at all, not even a passing glance, he wanted to give you something to make you happy.

He often gave you wildflowers, knowing you always liked the bright colors and soft petals, or smooth, shiny rocks he found down by the creek, or little rings and necklaces he bought with his dwindling gold supply when the two of you went in to town. But he still often felt like the only thing he could do right enough to truly make others happy was sex.

It was practiced, it was routine. Use his body to make someone feel good, make a few pretty faces, and it was done. There was something safe in the familiarity of it, though the sheer gut wrenching disgust that followed after never sit right with him.

You hadn’t hesitated to agree when Astarion had asked if you two could stop having sex for a while. Your sexual activity had dwindled anyways; you’d often told him you were just tired, or wanted to make sure you had plenty of energy for the coming day. Part of him knew you could tell he didn’t really want it, but he chose to believe you just wanted a break, and it was relieving to not have to perform. It was a weight off of his shoulders.

But more recently, he’d been pent up. He found himself craving release; of course he thought of coming to you for help, but the thought of having to perform, to make you feel good and owe you that pleasure after he takes his own, it sent a writhing sensation under his skin. As much as he liked the thought of seeing your eyes filled with arousal, he didn’t want that feeling of perform. Continue. No choice. Earn your life, bring him someone.

But he wanted to make you happy. He had done this so many times before; why not once more, just to see you satisfied? You must be pent up as well after so long of dealing with his unwillingness to give you something so simple. It was the least he could do. He would achieve the release he’d began to crave, you would be happy, and he would know you would stay with him and know he cared for you.

..

Astarion rolled above you, that mischievous smirk on his face as he looked down at you. You laughed softly, rolling your eyes. “Someone’s in a playful mood tonight,” you teased, to which Astarion hummed.

“Whoever could that be?” He muttered, leaning down and capturing you in a kiss. You felt his tongue swipe across your lower lip, but before you could grant him entrance, he pulled away, before moving to mouth softly at your neck. You hummed, your chest fluttering as you inhaled. You could feel his lips move against you, his tongue swiping over the scars of old bites, his canines brush dangerously over the delicate skin of your neck.

You put your hands on his chest and muttered, “Mmh, Astarion, what’s going on?”

“Hmm?” He hummed in a questioning tone.

“You don’t normally act like this,” you breathed. “Is everything okay?”

“So sweet for asking,” he murmured. “Just pent up. I want you, if you’ll have me.”

You scanned over his face; nothing seemed off. He seemed genuine. You weren’t sure why he was offering though; this wasn’t like him. Maybe he was actually just pent up?

“You promise you’ll tell me to stop if it’s too much?”

“Of course, love,” he breathed against your neck, softly nipping at the skin there, threatening to break skin.

You nod, hands running up his sides. “Okay. As long as you promise.”

Astarion gave a pleased sound, his hands snaking under your shirt. Calloused fingertips brushed against your skin, before pulling your shirt up above your head and leaning down to kiss at your shoulders, mouth at your collarbones, and nip at your chest.

You gave a shaky sigh, your hand running over his back, savoring the way he arched against the touch. He was good at this, no doubt, but it always hurt you to think of *why.*

Astarion leaned back, staring down at you almost hungrily. He pulled his own shirt over his head, and you leaned up to run your hands over his chest and his stomach, before leaning in to kiss at the little dimple between his collarbones. He was always finicky about kissing his neck, especially on the side Cazador bit him on, and you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable, so you stuck to his shoulders and chest for now.

His hands found your waist, and as you pulled away from him, you saw the slightest flicker of hesitation in his eyes before he pushed you down to the bedroll and pulled your hips up against his, softly grinding against the curve of your ass.

You weren’t worried about that, though; you saw the way his eyes had slowly grown foggy and distant, the loss of expression, and the way his touches became almost rhythmic, nearly robotic; practiced and routine.

“Stop,” you said.

Astarion snapped out of it in an instant, present here and now once more. “Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?”

“Hun,” you leaned up, scooting your hips apart from his and gently cupping his cheek. “You don’t want this. I can see it in your eyes.”

“I do!” Astarion insisted, “Gods, I want this, please, I’m sorry, just let me-“ he hurriedly began grabbing at your hips, trying to pull you closer,

“Darling, stop.” You said, more assertively this time. His shoulders slumped and the look in his eyes broke your heart; he looked desperate, but not for sex. He looked so disappointed in himself.

“Come here,” you whispered, pulling him in for a hug. “Do you remember when I told you you don’t owe me anything?” He didn’t hug you back, but his forehead rested against your shoulder, and he gave a brisk little nod.

“But I do want it,” he said. “I just… I don’t want to have to give back, or be touched, or just… I don’t know, but I want something, and I-“

You hushed him, sensing his growing stress, running your fingers through his hair. You turned to kiss his temple, and he gave a happy little sound.

“I think I get it. You want to keep your control of your body, but don’t want to have to feel like you owe me pleasure either?” You questioned. He gave a brisk little nod.

“That’s alright. Astarion, we don’t have to do anything like this, I never want your to feel pressured, and-“

“But I do want… something like this.” He rebutted. “I just… want a little. I don’t know. I really am pent up. I’ve tried handling it myself, time and time again… I’ll sneak off into the woods and… and try and rid myself of these desires. But it… just… never works. I cant… I just cant. Not alone.”

You furrowed your brow, feeling just how embarrassed he was with the way he shuffled and squirmed against you, clutching at your sides.

“You mean… you can’t touch yourself, or..?”

“I can’t finish,” he corrected, his words rushed and jumbled.

“Oh,” you said. You kept running your fingers through his hair, taking a moment to think. You could tell how much this embarrassed him, just by how he was acting. “That’s alright, Astarion. What do you want me to do to help?”

“I… don’t know,” he breathed. “I just… I’m frustrated, i need something..”

“Would it be too much for me to touch you like that right now?” You asked him.

He nodded his head, and you pulled back, looking at him as you gently cupped his cheek in your hand. “Use your words, baby boy.”

Red eyes looked up to meet your own, and you couldn’t help but smile at him, if only to comfort him. “Yes, i think that would be too much right now. Maybe… maybe I could… i could touch myself and you can just… be here?”

You flushed a little with his words, but you nodded and kissed the tip of his nose, savoring the way he smiled.

“That sounds wonderful,” you said. “Here,” you began shifting him and yourself.

You moved so he was laying on his side, you laying behind him. Your chest was pressed to his, and you felt the full body shudder that went through him. “This okay?” You asked, and he nodded. You cuddled up to his back, and hummed to him, “Then go ahead, my love. Do what you want.”

Astarion shuddered and you could feel him moving to slip a hand under the hem of his pants. You gently rested a hand on his hip, not sensing anything saying he disliked the touch. His breathing slowly started to pick up, and you could feel him palming himself softly before slipping his cock from his trousers. You hummed your approval, whispering to him, “That’s a good boy.” He whined low in his throat, and you felt his arm start to move as he began stroking himself. You couldn’t see at this angle, but you felt the way his body would slowly start tensing, his chest rising, could see the way he tried to bury his face in the pillow, knowing you were right behind him as he touched himself.

You muttered soft coos of approval to him as he chased his pleasure, each of your words making his breath hitch just a little more.

You hummed, “So good for me, my love, making yourself feel good. Love watching you like this.”

You could so easily ignore your own arousal if it meant you got to witness his. He was beautiful.

Astarion gasped, “D-darling, gods… the way you talk to me, hah, makes me… fuck, I need it…” he trembled and began stroking himself faster, throwing his head back against your shoulder. You smiled against his neck and kissed the pale skin softly, feeling the way it made his entire body shudder. His breathing slowly turned in to whines, desperate and strained.

Your hand ran up to his chest, brushing over the soft skin, savoring the little twitch he gave when your hand ran over his nipples, moving to feel over his rib cage as you whispered how beautiful he was, making himself feel good like this.

You kissed his temple, the saltiness of his sweat clinging to your lips. You caught a glimpse of that beautiful face when he tilted it back to arch himself; brow furrowed, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. “Gods,” you breathed, his red eyes fluttering open. You leaned up to kiss him, not even attempting to look down and see him desperately chasing his release, knowing that catching a glimpse may be too much for him.

You buried your face back in his neck, and he gave a high pitched whine, gasping, “C-can’t… fuck, love, ah, please, I can’t do it, please, help me,” the last words came out as a mere whisper, and you could feel how frantically he was moving in attempting to chase his release. Worried he would hurt himself, you whispered to him, your hand slowly trailing down his hips to rest on his upper thigh.

“May I touch you?” You asked.

“Please,” he nearly sobbed, letting himself go and grabbing your wrist to guide you to his cock. You wrapped your hand around him, heavy and hot in your palm. He was so hard, gods it must have hurt.

You stroked him softly, your thumb swiping over his tip and smearing his precum over himself. He whimpered, still holding your wrist, and you could feel the way his entire body trembled. “Please,” he whispered.

You kissed the back of his neck, mouthing at the flesh there softly as you set your pace, stroking him and smearing his pre over the head, making your hand much slicker to give him a feeling that, if his whimpers and trembles said anything, must be quite lovely.

He jolted and whined, his cock twitching in your hand. You could tell he was close, losing himself to the pleasure, one hand having a death grip on your wrist and the other tangled in the furs of the bedroll. You’d never seen him so lost to himself.

He gasped, “I’m gonna-!” Not even able to get out his warning before your felt his release coating your hand. You stroked him through his orgasm, savoring his gasps, catching the slightest glimpse of a furrowed brow and open mouth, eyes squeezed shut, tears threatening to spill from the corners.

“That’s it, hun,” you breathed to him. “That’s a good boy. Let go for me.”

You kept stroking him until he gave a particularly harsh jolt, with which you withdrew your hand and wiped it on some miscellaneous clothing tossed near your bedroll. You kissed the back of his neck, savoring the silence for a moment.

Astarion was the first to speak. “Thank you,” he said.

“I hope it was to your liking. It wasn’t too much?”

“No, it was wonderful. I… needed that. Do… you want me to take care of you?” He rolled over to face you, glancing down to your trousers. You could see the unease stirring in his eyes at the thought alone

You shook your head. “Tonight was about you. I’m just happy I got to see that pretty face when you came,” you teased, fighting a laugh at Astarion’s shocked and embarrassed expression.

“Gods, you’re truly insufferable sometimes.”

“Same to you, my love,” you teased, kissing the tip of his nose and pulling him in close. You pulled a blanket up over his waist to give him some cover, to which he hummed his appreciation and nuzzled in to your chest, sleep catching the both of you and luring you into its embrace.

[shuastar]

Hii! I saw ur post prompt, and this is my first time doing( hope I'm doing it right..)

I guess i can choose the member(?) So woozi (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠), fluff and i couldn't choose between 8 or 16.. idk if both works but if not you can choose between the two what fits better...

-🍓

pairing: woozi x reader genre/warnings: fluff :(( est. relationship a/n: 🍓nonnie i literally for some reason couldn't decide how to combine 8 and 16 so i just wrote with 8 if thats okay... i cant imagine 18 months without jihoon or soonyoung someone please save me...

prompt list | ask box

falling asleep while video calling, and neither hanging up—waking up hours later to sleepy smiles and bedhead

You’re lying on your bed, phone propped up against your pillow, Jihoon’s face glowing softly on the screen. It’s past midnight, but you’re still wide awake, chatting quietly as he’s winding down in his dorm room after a long day of practice.

His hair is a messy halo around his face, eyes heavy but still sparkling as he tells you about a new song he’s composing. The soft hum of his voice, the way he bites his lip when he’s thinking, makes your heart flutter.

“You sound tired,” you whisper, voice barely above the hum of the late night.

Jihoon shrugs, rubbing a hand through his hair and yawning softly. “I am, but I don’t want to hang up yet.”

You smile, feeling the same. There’s something comforting in just having him there, even if it’s through a screen. You shift under the blankets, your eyes fluttering closed without you realizing.

The soft glow of your phone’s screen is the last thing you see before sleep pulls you under.

Hours later, you stir awake to the faint glow of early morning filtering through your curtains. Your phone is still in the same spot, and on the screen is Jihoon’s face—soft and peaceful, hair tousled like a perfect mess. His eyes slowly flutter open, meeting yours with a sleepy smile that melts your heart.

“Morning,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

You grin, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Morning.”

Neither of you say anything for a moment, just smiling at each other like this is the best way to wake up.

Jihoon reaches up, ruffling his own hair, sending tufts sticking every which way. You laugh softly, the sound filling the quiet room.

“You’re such a mess,” you tease gently.

He shrugs, eyes sparkling with warmth. “You like it.”

You nod, heart fluttering again.

Neither of you hang up.

For a little longer, you just exist together in this sleepy, tender space—two people connected by a screen but feeling closer than ever.

[and-claudia]

Bound by Winter (Spencer Agnew x fem! Reader) Part 8

Word count: 3900+

Warnings: A lil spicy at the beginning, gambling, drinking

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Spencer and I ended up falling back asleep for another couple of hours. Jack must have gotten fed up with Spencer nearly crushing him as he pulled me closer and moved to sleep in Spencer’s chair closer to the hearth. When I woke again, I was very aware of his hard dick pressed against my ass. 

One part of me was telling me I shouldn’t do what I was about to, but another, much louder part, was screaming at me to. So, just ever so slightly, I nudged myself back against it in a way that could easily be written off as being accidental, just shifting in my sleep, perhaps. 

Spencer also shifted some behind me and pulled me closer. 

I did it again. 

This time, with his eyes still closed, Spencer let a soft moan of my name. That only spurred me on as I did it again.

“You doing that on purpose?” His voice caught me off guard, and I froze. 

“What? Did you think I would sleep through you doing that?” He asked, voice still rough from sleep. 

I rolled over to face him, “Maybe…” 

“Did you want me to sleep through it?” He asked, looking into my eyes. 

“Maybe not.” 

I leaned in to kiss him, but stopped short when a loud knock sounded on the door. 

“Who is it?” Spencer called. 

“Put some clothes on, lovebirds, meet me in the solar! We’re playing Thornfang!” Damien hollered loud enough for us to hear him clearly through the thick wooden door. 

Spencer signed and looked at me. 

“Thornfang?” 

“Gambeling… we don’t have to, if you’d rather-” 

“You two will have plenty of time to fuck next blizzard! Up and at 'em! Don’t worry, Lady Agnew, I will go easy on you the first few hands!” Damien yelled again. 

This time, I sighed, “I don’t think he’s going to leave unless we go to the solar with him.” I said, trying not to laugh. 

“I’m afraid you’re right.” Spencer said to me quietly before turning his head to holler back at his friend, “Fine! We will be there in a moment!” 

We both got up and got dressed in more presentable attire, which truthfully just consisted of both of us wearing one of his thicker tunics and a pair of thick woolen pants he usually only wore in the privacy of our chambers. I was thankful that the floors were heated in our chambers, but I knew the same wasn’t true for the halls. So, instead of wasting time putting on boots, I just put on two thick pairs of socks before snagging one of the fur blankets off our bed and wrapping it over my shoulders as if it were a cloak. 

“There’s a hearth in the solar, you know that right?” Spencer teased, taking in my makeshift cloak. 

“I’m freezing just standing here. I am from the coast, you know that right?” I shot back. 

“Fair enough, ready?” He asked, offering me his arm. 

I took and allowed him to lead me to the public solar. It was on the other side of the keep, but closer for everyone else to get to besides us two, so I didn’t mind. We could have gotten there much quicker if we cut through the courtyard, but considering it was most likely already covered in at least a foot of snow, Spencer opted to lead us through the maze of corridors to the tower that held the public solar. 

When we got there, I could already hear chattering inside. Spencer opened the door and allowed me to enter first. Everyone’s heads turned when they heard the door open. 

“Well, well, well,” Damien smirked, eyeing my outfit with mock gravity. “You know, I always figured it’d take at least a year of marriage before you started stealing all his clothes. And pants, too. Bold move.”

Spencer rolled his grumbling under his breath, “She threatened to stay in bed all day unless I let her.”

“And you let her walk around looking better in your tunic than you ever have,” Damien said. “Brave man.”

“Let me guess,” came Chanse’s voice as he twirled into the room behind us, juggling two snow-dusted apples and a kitchen ladle. “A duel for honor? A seduction via long johns? Or did you finally admit defeat and let her take your title as Lord Agnew?”

“She’d run this place better than me,” Spencer said without hesitation, before guiding the reader to a cushioned bench beside the fire. “But she’s only allowed to borrow the pants.”

Angela, already perched at the table arranging her coin pile, snorted. “Borrowed pants and stolen hearts. Typical Reach girl behavior.”

Snow still lashed the windows like wild fingers. Outside, the blizzard had smothered the valley, but inside the solar chamber, warmth thrummed in the stone walls. Firelight danced across furs, and the low murmur of conversation swelled into spirited laughter as Ser Damien dramatically slammed down the deck of Thornfang cards.

“I’ve gathered the finest fools in the North,” he declared, gesturing at the growing circle. “And, my Lady Agnew—if you’d be so brave—I invite you to join the bloodletting.”

I took a seat next to Angela, and Spencer sat next to me. Angela was next to Damien. The rest of the table was filled by one of my other handmaidens, Arasha, Chanse, Lord Commander Ian, and to my surprise, Septa Amanda and Maester Tommy. 

“So, how does the game work?” I asked. 

“It’s best to learn as you go. We’ll all go easy on you and Angela since you’ve played for the first few rounds until you get the hang of it.” Damien said. 

I nodded, and the cards were dealt out.

The game began.

Cards shuffled. Bets placed. The first few hands were harmless—laughs traded, coins lost and won. Angela took an early lead, bluffing just well enough to keep Ian fuming. Arasha folded out of most hands but cackled every time someone cursed. Amanda played with serene detachment, taking coins from Damien with alarming consistency. Maester Tommy squinted at his hand like it was written in a different language and accidentally bet all his tokens on a pair of threes.

Chanse immediately upended the rhythm by loudly announcing fake hands, betting nothing, and pretending he was winning.

“I’ve got the Black Widow, three flames, and a squirrel on a unicycle,” he said. “That’s a Thornflush.”

“That’s not even a real thing,” Ian growled.

Chanse winked. “It is if you believe in the power of narrative.”

I laughed at his antics before turning around in my chair to speak to one of the guards who stood at the doorway. 

“One of you head down to the kitchens and fetch us some ale and mugs, please.” 

“Ale? This early in the day?” Angela asked. 

“What? Keeps you warmer than wine would.” I shrugged. 

“She’s got a good point.” Spencer said, turning over his shoulder to see the three guards all still standing there, “Your Lady gave you an order, quite politely, I may add, why are you still standing here? In fact, if two of you go, you can bring more ale that way.” 

“Yes, My Lord, and My Lady.” One of them said before nudging the one beside them to walk out ahead of them. 

I turned back to the table. 

“Are you sure ale is the best thing for your game play at this moment, mi’lady?” Damien teased. 

“Are you worried it may allow me to take back some of the coins you’ve won from me?” I shot back. 

“Never.” 

Another round, that once again went to Lady Speta, was played before the ale arrived. 

I am sure everyone thought that the ale would worsen my gameplay, but they didn’t know that this is when I got serious.

By the fifth hand, the table grew quiet. I sipped my ale slowly, keeping my expression unreadable. Spencer watched me closely, brows lifted as I stared at my cards like they were bricks in a castle wall.

“You’re bluffing,” Damien accused, eyes narrowing.

“Am I?” I said casually, tossing two frostmarks into the bid pile without blinking.

Ian rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know. She might have the Blind King…”

“You fools,” Amanda muttered, deciding to fold her hand, taking her out of the game.

“Spencer,” Damien said. “You can’t tell what she’s got, can you?”

Spencer leaned in, studying my face for a long moment.

“No,” he admitted. “But I know that look. That’s the look she gives me right before she wins an argument.”

Laughter rippled around the table, but it didn’t last long. When the last card hit the snowfield, I glanced around before I laid my hand down slowly: a perfect fang. The table went silent.

“You—!” Damien slapped a hand to his heart. “You bluffed me into folding a Widow’s Ghost!”

Angela grinned widely, full of pride. “Told you not to underestimate her.”

“I’m starting to worry,” Spencer muttered, shaking his head with a crooked smile. “She’s been married to me for two months, and this is when I realize she’s terrifying.”

“Should’ve known better,” Arasha chimed in. “She’s been bluffing her way through northern politics without flinching. She always knows more than she lets on.” 

Chanse dropped his cards dramatically, “I fold. And retire. And repent.”

I simply leaned forward and scooped up my winnings with a demure smile. “What can I say? I was raised by men who lied for sport at the Fall Feast.”

“Spoken like a true Mythic Reach girl,” Angela said, raising her mug. “To Lady Agnew—the Thornfang Queen of Caerwatch.”

“I’m naming my next losing hand after you,” Damien muttered. “A ‘Lady Reach.’ Looks sweet. Kills without mercy.” 

The guards must have mentioned to the cooks in the kitchen that a game was going on in the public solar because it wasn’t long until a few trays of snacks were brought up. 

The game continued. More cards were played, coins were traded, food was eaten, and ale was certainly being drunk. We even sent the guards to fetch more. 

Eventually, the fire had burned low. Plates were empty, flagons forgotten. One by one, everyone wiped out—Angela dramatically tossing her last coin into the pot with a growl, Chanse wagering his boots before being physically removed by Arasha, and Ser Damien groaning in defeat as I took his final silver fang with a calm nod. After the second round of ale was brought in, Septa Amanda and Maester Tommy took it as their time leave. 

“Gods preserve us,” Damien said, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve been eaten alive.”

“Twice,” Arasha reminded him, “By a woman in stolen trousers, no less.”

“I’ll never recover,” Damien muttered.

Soon, the room thinned as players retired, bellies full and egos bruised. Now, only two remained at the table: Spencer, hunched forward slightly, sleeves pushed up, one hand curled around a flagon of ale; and I, poised as ever, eyes sharp, posture regal even in his oversized tunic.

The pile of winnings between us shimmered with mixed coin and cold anticipation.

“So,” Spencer said, voice low, warm, and a little slurred. “It’s just you and me.”

The reader gave him a slow smile. “You’ve gotten better since the first hand.”

“Enough to beat you?”

“I suppose we’ll find out.”

Damien stirred groggily near the hearth. “Please tell me this ends with a dramatic betrayal or a marriage proposal.” 

“You’re several months late,” Angela murmured, half-asleep on a cushion.

Cards were dealt. The silence was thick but comfortable—everyone else was now watching from the outskirts with bated breath. Even the guards leaned in from their posts at the doors, eyes wide.

Spencer stared at his hand. His brows furrowed. Then he glanced up at me.

I was looking right at him, my mouth tilted in a challenge.

“You’re bluffing,” he said.

I arched a brow. “Am I?”

Spencer leaned back, studying me carefully. “You know what the worst part is?” he asked, setting a single coin into the pile. “I live with you. I sleep beside you. And I still don’t know when you’re lying.”

“You’re just saying that because I wear your clothes better than you do.”

He chuckled. “That helps, sure.”

We went round after round, the tension building, the pile growing, until it was nearly everything we'd both won that night. Cards clacked. Ale was refilled. The air warmed with the fire and the closeness of our focus.

“You going to fold?” I asked sweetly, raising the stakes.

He tilted his head, gaze locking with mine. “You tell me.”

Then—without looking at his cards—Spencer pushed all his coins into the center of the table.

Gasps erupted from those still watching.

I looked down at the pot. Then at him.

“I could still beat you,” I said softly.

“I know,” he said, almost smiling.

I watched him for a long moment. And then, with a small sigh—one that sounded very much like resignation and victory tangled together—folded.

The room exploded.

“No!” Damien cried, bolting upright. “You folded?! You had him!”

Angela was laughing so hard she nearly choked. “Why did you fold?!”

But I simply leaned back, arms crossed over my chest, and met Spencer’s eyes across the table. My expression was unreadable, but my voice was warm when I said, “I let you have that one.”

Spencer grinned, slow and crooked. “Sure you did.”

He reached forward, collecting the coins, but not with much urgency.

“You can have them back tomorrow,” he said under his breath, so only she could hear.

I leaned in slightly and he added, “You’ll have to earn them though.”

Our eyes met again, that same electricity from before pulsing between us.

And then, just as the room began to quiet, Chanse shouted from the hallway:

“Wait—did the Lord of Caerwatch just win a game? Against his wife? Call the sept, the world’s clearly ending!”

Everyone laughed, but Spencer just rolled his eyes. 

Spencer showed his cards out of courtesy. It was a good hand. 

“Not bad.” I said, setting my hand down, facedown. 

“What’d you have?” He asked and nodded at my cards. 

I didn’t answer right away, just simply stood up and stretched my arms over my head, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I said before walking over to Angela, who was by the hearth. 

As I sat down, I could see Spencer reach across the table and pick up my folded hand as he cleaned up the cards with Damien. 

“What’d she have?” Damien asked curiously. 

“Nothing,” Spencer said, tucking the cards into the deck randomly. 

I smiled to myself, knowing the truth. 

Eventually, Damien and Angela both decided to retire back to the warmth of their own chambers, leaving just Spencer and I by the hearth. 

“Why’d you do it?” Spencer asked. 

“Hm?” 

“You had a high trio. You beat me by two cards. So why’d you fold?” 

I shrugged. 

“You let me win.” 

I laughed to myself, “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. This hand would’ve wiped the table clean. Even Damien would’ve wept.”

“I figured you’d enjoy the win. Call it… a gift.” I said playfully. 

“A gift? You gave up bragging rights and half the coin in Caerwatch for… what, my pride?” 

“You looked like you needed it.” I said shrugging again but smiling at him. 

“So I’m a charity case now?” He teased. 

I shook my head, smiling, “You’re my husband. I’m allowed to spoil you every once in a while.”

“…It meant something, didn’t it? You folding like that. In front of everyone.”

“I suppose I wanted to see you smile,” I said quietly.

“You could’ve done that and beat me.” He pointed out. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

He shook his head, amused by my antics. 

“Want to head back to our chambers for the evening?” He asked. 

I thought for a moment, “Not yet, can we go by the library first? If the snow is going to continue to hound us for the next couple of days, I want to get myself a couple of books to pass the time. I haven’t gotten the chance to look through it yet, honestly.” 

Spencer nodded, “We can definitely do that.” 

“Thank you.” 

Eventually, we found our way to the southeastern tower of Caerwatch Keep. And I hate to admit it, but this library put the one at Seastar Hold to shame in terms of the number of books it held. 

It was also warmer than I expected, though not from the cold. It was something else—age, perhaps. Memory. The stone walls were thick, the shelves taller than two men, and the fire crackling in the hearth cast golden light across thousands of books bound in leather and stitched parchment.

Spencer said nothing as he wandered ahead, one hand trailing the spines along the nearest shelf. He looked like he belonged here, dark hair mussed from sleeping in and running his hand through while playing cards, his eyes moving as if reading titles he already knew by heart.

I followed more slowly, tugging my makeshift cloak tighter over my shoulders. The air smelled of ash, ink, and something older—dry and earthy, like the inside of a sealed chest long buried. I stepped closer to one of the tables near the hearth. Wax dripped down iron candlesticks, pooling in small craters. A half-finished page lay there, the ink smeared but still legible. Someone—Maester Tommy, I assumed—had been translating something in an ancient language. I didn’t recognize the words, but I recognized the sigil sketched faintly in the corner. 

A ring of crescent moons. The same pattern I’d seen etched faintly into the arch above the old gates. I hadn’t thought much of it then. Now, I saw it again—here—carved into the corner of the table, too. Faint. Almost lost beneath the polish. Not Agnew’s sigil. Not one I recognized from my uncle’s books on noble houses.

“You planning to read something, or just haunt the furniture like a ghost?” Spencer’s voice pulled me back, lazy and low. He stood beside a heavy pine shelf, holding two worn books in one hand and raising a brow at me with the other.

I gave him a look. “Just admiring the craftsmanship. It’s impressive.”

“Impressive is one word for it. Dusty is another.”

I smiled and stepped toward him, brushing my fingers along a nearby shelf. Symbols I couldn’t decipher were burned faintly into the wood. Not quite Virelian. Something older. A warning? A blessing? I didn’t know, and something told me Maester Tommy wouldn’t either—not yet, anyway.

Spencer handed me one of the books—The Storms of the Northern Pass. It was thick, the leather cracked along the edges, and smelled like damp winter. “For when the storm hits tomorrow. And you get too bored staring at me.”

“I never said I wouldn’t enjoy staring.”

He gave me a look that might’ve been amusement. “Don’t say things like that unless you want me to do something about it.”

I laughed softly and headed toward the hearth, the book tucked under my arm. 

The fire cracked lazily in the hearth, muffled by the weight of snow building on the windows. I sat cross-legged, absently turning the pages of the book while Spencer trailed his fingers along a dusty shelf.

“This one,” he said, pulling out a thick leather-bound tome with a faded spine. “I think this one’s full of old Agnew records. Family trees and whatnot. Likely dry as salted oats.”

He walked over and handed it to me anyway, flopping into the seat across from mine with a groan.

“You used to be a prince, you know,” I said absently as I opened the book. “Of the North. Or something close to it.” I said, referring to something I had skimmed over in the first book. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Careful. You’ll give me ideas.”

I turned the brittle pages, eyes catching on a hand-scrawled heading halfway through:

The Shattering of the Watch.

Something about the name stilled me.

“Spencer,” I murmured, showing him the page. “What was this?”

He leaned forward, eyes scanning the text—and his face, so often made of dry amusement or quiet calculation, settled into something older. Sadder.

“‘They broke the Owl’s Eye, and the North wept,’” he read aloud. “My mother used to whisper that when the snow came too early.”

He exhaled slowly, voice dipping lower.

“They don’t teach it much anymore. But the story’s still in our bones. Want to hear it?”

I nodded, and he reached across to take the book from my lap—resting it between us, though he hardly looked at the page.

Third Person Flashback

Before there was a throne in Viridian Hold, there was the North. And before the North bent the knee, it bore a crown made of iron and frost.

House Agnew, rulers from their stone fortress high in the mountains, bore the sigil of the owl and the motto “We Watch, So Others May Sleep.” They were more than monarchs. They were keepers. Protectors of ancient knowledge. Some said the Lords of Caerwatch could speak to the dead. Others said they merely knew how to listen.

At the height of their reign, the Agnews formed the Watch—a council of seers, swordsmen, sages, and sworn nobles. They kept peace not just by sword, but by sight. It was said the Owl’s Eye, an artifact lost to time, allowed them to see coming war before it began.

But when the South rose—when the cradle of civilization shifted toward Viridian Hold, when steel armies marched with dragon-fire and gods of light—the Watch was deemed dangerous. Too powerful. Too strange.

And so came the breaking.

The Owl’s Eye was shattered. The council scattered. The King of the North, last of his line to wear a crown, fell in battle on a field of white fire.

The keep did not fall. Caerwatch never burns. But the kingdom did. The name Agnew faded from southern tongues, its power reduced to snow and silence.

And so the Watch was broken. The North… forgotten.

First Person Point of View 

Spencer stopped reading. Or maybe he hadn’t been reading at all—just reciting something he already knew by heart.

My hand had stilled on the book, one finger tracing the edge of a crumbling sigil sketched in ink—an owl’s eye, cracked down the center.

“They broke the Watch,” I said quietly. “But they didn’t kill it.”

“No,” he said. “They just left it to freeze.”

We sat there in silence, the fire sputtering, the blizzard wailing softly outside the high glass.

And then, slowly, an idea bloomed in my chest like a secret.

“Spencer,” I said, voice low. “What if this war… what’s coming now—what if it ends differently?”

He looked at me, curious. “Differently, how?”

“What if the North doesn’t just survive this time?” I asked. “What if it rises?”

His brow furrowed—not quite in disbelief, but as if he wasn’t sure if I was joking.

“Are you suggesting I crown myself?” he asked wryly.

“I’m saying,” I said, voice quiet but steady, “that kingdoms have been reborn from less. And my father and uncle… maybe one of them could take the throne in the Viridian Hold. Two kingdoms. Two allied kingdoms. ”

Spencer didn’t laugh. He looked down at the cracked sigil on the page, then at me.

“I’d settle for winning this damn war first,” he said finally. “But if the North wanted a crown again…”

He closed the book with a soft thud.

“…we’d know where to find it.”

OOOOOHHHHHHHHHH how do we feel about King Spencer and Queen Yn Agnew?? OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH MAYBE!!!!! OR MAYBE NOT????? WHO KNOWS HOW THE WAR WILL END (I DO, HAHAHAHA)

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