#I want to be able to find a new job when I feel stuck

[weareallgreyreally]

My guy I’m just trying to move out with my fiancé while my mum holds on to me for dear life and it’s one of the most emotionally exhausting things that’s ever happened to me

[alolan-weavile]

oooooh i am deeply unhappy actually

[pellucid-constellations]

Trial and Error

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: A little angst

a/n: Okay this has taken over my brain. I hope you enjoy it!! You can read the previous little part here and part three here

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

“And what would happen then?” 

“I suppose then we would have to turn into giants, wouldn’t we?” 

“Giants. Really?” Melanie deadpanned as if she hadn’t just unraveled the most incoherent line of questioning you’d ever heard. Her new favorite game was “what if,” and you were apparently awful at it. 

“Well—” you began, pretending to think as you leaned against the counter and tapped your chin. “I guess we could just learn how to fly instead. That way we could go collect the, um… bunnies from the tops of the clouds.” 

“It’s cats, mommy, not bunnies. Why would a bunny be on a cloud?” 

“You are so right.” 

You pushed off the counter and continued restocking the shelves of the small apothecary that had employed you for the past few years. You had started out in Velaris working at a few small bars, but that hadn’t lasted long when they discovered you were pregnant. You had earned enough money to get a small apartment at that point, and you just so happened to find one above an apothecary owned by a rather wicked old woman. 

Lucky for you, she was a wicked old woman who no longer wanted to run her apothecary or deal with the space above it. So, you got a job and a place to live without many questions asked—a two-for-one miracle. 

“Maybe we could ask Nyx to take us up to the clouds,” Melanie pondered as she fiddled with a bundle of cloves by the register. 

“Who’s Nyx, sweetie?” you mindlessly asked. 

“A boy in my class. He has wings. He told me he can’t fly very high yet, but soon he’ll be able to.” 

You inhaled sharply through your nose. 

There were probably several boys in her class who had wings and were unrelated to the Illyrian man occupying your thoughts, right? 

You hummed in contemplation. “I don’t know, Melanie. Maybe Nyx could take you, but I might be too big for him to bring me up to the clouds.” 

“Oh, good idea, mommy! Nyx’s daddy can fly too and he can bring you. Or he has two uncles that could.” Your daughter stuck two fingers in the air with pride. “I wish I had wings. Mommy, did my daddy have wings?” 

You shook your head and abandoned the box at your feet to brush your daughter’s hair back instead. Going to school had opened doors to many questions you had been dreading, and Melanie’s questions about her dad had been coming in waves. 

“Your daddy didn’t have wings,” you began, looping a finger around her red curls. “But he did have hair just like yours.” 

Melanie tilted her head to the side. “Did you love my daddy? Nyx drew a picture at school of his mommy and daddy and said they love each other very much. Like as much as you love me.” 

You fought back a sigh. Nyx was causing you a plethora of issues and you hadn’t even met the kid. “Sometimes families look different,” you explained, running your hands down to brush off the dust on Melanie’s clothes that she’d surely obtained from playing in the apothecary. “I didn’t love your daddy, but that’s just because I had so much love saved up for you.” 

“Hmm…I hope you can have someone to love like how Nyx’s mommy has his daddy,” Melanie said after a small pause. And then she swung off the counter and started trekking up the stairs to the apartment as if she hadn’t just aged ten years with her statement. 

You blinked at the space she left, baffled by your five-year-old’s abruptness. She had only been at school for a week and was making revelations about your life that even you struggled to come to terms with. You let out a small sound of disbelief and made to follow your daughter up the stairs when the bell above the front door chimed. 

“Sorry, we’re closed for the—”

A boot heel clicking silenced your call.

His shadows came in before him, dark swirls instantly sweeping along the walls and wrapping up around the front counter. They didn’t touch you, but there was a hesitance about them that suggested they wanted to. You tore your gaze from their behavior to meet the eyes of the Illyrian from the school—the one you hadn’t seen since and definitely not because you were avoiding all situations where he could spot you. 

“Hello,” Azriel greeted with a calmness that was not reciprocated. “Are you closed? I can come back another time.” 

Every thought tumbled out of your brain. You had forgotten—almost—how intimidating he was. Not just in sheer size, but in the way he held himself, in the sharp planes of his face that smoothed into softness in the exact places they should. 

His wings pressed in towards his back as he took another step forward. The floor groaned beneath his weight. 

“Oh, um—” you uttered along with the straining floor. “We are—technically. But I can help you find something. Or place an order for you. No big deal.” 

“I wouldn’t want to keep you if you’re closed,” Azriel stressed. 

“No, no, it’s okay,” you nervously laughed. Act more normal. Act like there’s nothing… abnormal about you. “Anything for someone from Melanie’s school. What are you looking for?” 

Azriel hummed, his eyes lightning. “Ah, so you do remember me. I was wondering.” 

Was he looking at you strangely? Azriel kept trailing his gaze around the room and letting it land on your face, evaluating you… profiling you? 

You were being ridiculous. 

“Of course I do. You gave me great intel on the teacher. I don’t come until the bell rings now.” You rocked back on your heels and shifted your fidgeting hands behind your back. “Was there something specific I could help you with?” 

Azriel ignored your question for the second time. “Is that why I haven’t seen you? You come later?” 

Was he looking for you? 

A strange combination of excitement and trepidation made your stomach drop. 

Another nervous laugh. Your palms were sweating. “I guess so. There’s a lot to be done here so I usually wait until the last minute to close up shop and pick her up. That’s why your tip was so helpful.” 

Azriel narrowed his eyes in a way that echoed concern, but you refused to read into it. You balanced up onto your toes and fell back onto the soles of your feet. 

You could tell he wanted to say more about something—to ask more questions unrelated to the apothecary. But he stopped himself and the restraint was clear in the tenseness of his shoulders. 

“I get headaches,” Azriel shared. “Awful ones. I’ve tried healing magic and a few medicinal remedies, but I was hoping to find something herbal. Could you help me with that?” 

You breathed a sigh of relief and began rifling through a cabinet to your left. “I may have just the thing. I had terrible migraines when I was pregnant and it took me six tries to get this recipe perfect, but I think it would do the trick for you. I almost hate to share it because I was the one that had to suffer through all the bad batches, but I guess that’s kind of my job.” 

You pulled back from the cabinet with a small bottle in hand, a tiny rendition of your handwriting scrawled along the side. You rolled it in your hands for a moment until you saw the shimmering nature of the liquid inside, and then you held it out over the counter and offered Azriel a smile. He replicated it, but it was smaller and looked forced. 

“You didn’t have anyone else to try it out on?” he asked. 

The question twisted something deep within your chest, but you only grinned and ignored the tightness of your jaw. “Who better than the one with the migraines herself?” 

Azriel breathed a laugh through his nose, his eyes not leaving yours. “I suppose that’s true.” 

The flecks in his eyes had you paralyzed, unable to move as his gaze held yours. You were breathless, fist tightening around the small tonic still held out in front of you as Azriel reached forward and grabbed it. His skin brushed yours. You shivered. 

Azriel’s lips parted to speak. “Where are you—”

A loud thump from upstairs cut him off. 

Azriel started, his chin clipping up and his body tensing. He quickly looked back down to you with a panicked question in his eyes. 

You fought for the words to say. If you revealed it was only Melanie, he would know where you lived—another piece of information you liked to keep close. But if you didn’t tell him, that could lead to something worse. He looked about ready to bolt up the stairs and battle your five-year-old. 

The decision was made for you when Melanie came bounding down the steps with a bowl in one hand and a large wooden spoon in the other. 

“Mommy,” she began with a lax posture that did not match the room. “Can I—Oh, hi, Mr. Azriel. What’re you doing at my house?” 

Melanie’s interpretation of his name included an extra syllable, and she was still working on pronouncing Zs, but the Illyrian ignored that. “Your house?” he asked. His attention was fully on Melanie, but he sent you a raised brow. 

“Um, yes. We live above the apothecary. Melanie sometimes forgets that it’s a business downstairs and not just a private playground,” you explained, rubbing your forearm in discomfort. Azriel tracked the movement. 

“Ah, well, it does seem rather fun down here. I can see the confusion.” 

Melanie perked up, waving the spoon in front of your face. “See, mommy? There’s lots to play with.” 

One of the tightly bound coils in your chest loosened as you shot Azriel a look. “Great. You’re encouraging her.” 

“I’ve been an uncle for a few years,” Azriel smiled, rolling the headache tonic between his hands. “I’ve gotten quite good at encouraging terrible things.” 

You laughed with a huff and placed a hand on Melanie’s head, bending down to meet her gaze. “Were you going to ask me for dinner? I’ll be up in just a few minutes. I was just putting a few things away.” 

“I know, mommy,” she nodded. Then, after a quick look at Azriel from the corner of her eye, she whispered, “Is Mr. Azriel having dinner with us? Nyx has been asking about when we have dinner and said to keep the question a secret, but maybe that’s why he’s here.” 

A few feelings barraged you at once. Confusion over your daughter's words; fear that the night court’s inner circle seemed to be asking questions about you; regret that you had given into Melanie’s pleas to go to school so readily. 

But Nyx was just a child—perhaps he asked everyone when they had dinner and Melanie was just connecting dots that weren’t there. 

But maybe that wasn’t the case. 

Maybe Azriel came to the apothecary specifically because you worked there and he was trying to gather intel for the Autumn Court. It had to be common knowledge that the daughter of one of Beron’s men had run away. But Night and Autumn weren’t on the best terms. That’s why you chose Velaris to—

You couldn’t do this right now. 

Not in front of Melanie and certainly not in front of Azriel. 

You pressed your lips into a firm line and whispered back, “No, he came to buy something from mommy’s shop. It’s just us for dinner, like always.” 

A sliver of disappointment fractured Melanie’s gaze. She hooked her chin over her shoulder and sent Azriel a small smile before disappearing into the apartment once more. You wiped your palms on the front of your pants as you stood, taking a breath to calm your raging anxiety. 

“Sorry, she…” 

“It’s alright,” Azriel dismissed. You looked at him for the first time in a few moments, his expression pinched and difficult to read. “I’m around Nyx a lot. You don’t have to apologize.” 

A beat of silence. 

The room was cloaked in unrealized tension. You weren’t sure if it was fueled by suspicion or something else. For you, it was, but the wistful way Azriel continued to linger on your figure was read as something else. Something older, more entrenched.

“It’s just two coppers.” You broke the silence, gesturing to the tonic still held between Azriel’s fingers—his scarred fingers, you then realized. You looked back up to his face.

“Only two? After all it took for you to make it?” 

You felt your mouth twist at the corner despite yourself. “I don’t know if you’ve seen this place, but it’s not exactly up to par with the rest of the apothecaries. I’m surprised you found it, to be honest. My customers are typically ancient fae with boils and warts.” 

“Sorry to disappoint,” Azriel teased. He searched through his pocket and placed a small sum of money on the counter between you. “Five coppers—for interrupting dinner.” 

“I hadn’t even—” 

“Goodbye, y/n.” 

You watched him go, not noticing the shadow that lingered in the corner. 

part three

[catherinnn]

This kinda inspired by one of your enemies to lovers stories where eddie says “you wouldn’t be able to handle me” but reader instead says “oh yeah i couldn’t handle the two-centimeter-pussy-defeater bc id because i would be too busy laughing my ass off at your angry half inch.”

Sorry i have been holding that one in for quite some time 😤

Beg for it

enemies to lovers - one bed trope - eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT +18, piv, oral ( f & m), choking, degradation, unprotected sex (don't do this, this is fiction), porn with plot, fluffy at the end.

a/n: thank you for requesting babe, hope you love it!

5.7k words

“Game night at my place, the whole group will be there” Steve announces after greeting you. You went to visit him and Robin since you were already near the place. Also, maybe you could find a movie to watch tonight.

“Ugh, really? They all said yes already?” you ask.

“If you’re expecting me to say that Munson hasn’t, then I have bad news” he confirms.

“Fuck”

“You’re not even trying to be friends at this point” he complains.

“It’s impossible with him being so mean all the time” you tried to defend yourself but Robin was quick to refute your statement.

“You sure are mean to him as well, don’t act so innocent”

“Well, he started it! I didn’t even know him and he started with the jokes and asshole comments” you weren’t lying.

You were new in town, and new at the summer job your dad had found for you. He wanted you to already have some experience at working so you could make a better curriculum later. There was were you met Nancy and instantly became good friends. So much so that she had introduced you to her friend group she has had for years already. Steve, Nance, Jonathan, Robin and Eddie. The former four had been sweethearts to you since you first met them, easily becoming good friends as well. The problem was with the latter. The night Nancy had introduced you to everyone, he started being a little distant and cold towards you. You tried not to feel offended since he could just be shy or introverted, but then he started throwing snide comments and sarcastic mocking your way. You were not going to sit there and take that, so you equally threw cutting remarks at him.

That’s how the current war with him started. And that’s why your friends keep insisting with this forced proximity, so we could all be a happy family.

But it was useless, you and Eddie do agree on that.

The game night arrived that Friday. You were at the Harrington household with several board games awaiting on the table. Battleship, Clue, Guess Who, Monopoly, Scrabble, you name it.

“We wanted to make different groups and play all of these, then see which team is the best” Robin explains. “Steve and me will be team one” she says as she writes that in the whiteboard. They really went all out, since we could all be pretty competitive.

“Group two!” Jonathan exclaims quickly grabbing Nancy’s hand.

“Wait… no, definitely not” You start complaining after realizing that would mean you’re stuck with Eddie.

 “No way! I’m not teaming up with her, she’ll make us lose at everything” he complains as well.

“I will? I think the actual loser here it’s you”

“Oh, am I now-?” The metal-head starts responding when Steve steps in, cutting him off.

“Okay! Stop yelling, we’re not even playing yet! The teams have been chosen, try and be faster next time”

“We’ll start with Guess Who” Robin announces.

As the game progressed, the bickering continued.

"Does your person have brown hair?" Eddie asks Nancy and Jonathan, who nod.

You reach over to flip down the characters with blond or red hair "See, this is why we should’ve picked someone with a hat, it's less obvious"

Eddie rolled his eyes "Oh, please. Like your guess was any better. We’re losing here!” Eddie complains.

"Only if you keep making terrible guesses" you shoot back.

"Does your person have a hat?" you ask the other team.

"No"

"Still think the hat was a good idea?" Eddie raised an eyebrow at you.

"It was strategic" you huff, flipping down the characters with hats.

After playing most of the board games you had, you were tied with the second group, Steve and Robin had already lost.

“Last but not least, to decide the winner of this evening, I present… battleship” Robin announces once more.

"You sure you can keep up with this game? It requires more than just a pretty face" Eddie asks you.

"Don’t worry, I have enough brains to make up for your lack of them" you respond.

“Quit it, start playing” Steve orders.

"Let's just get this over with" you roll your eyes.

They set up the Battleship boards, each team carefully arranging their ships. Eddie and you hunched over the board, whispering fiercely.

"Put the battleship here" he insist, pointing to the top left corner.

"No, it’s too obvious. Let’s hide it in the middle"

"Fine, but when they hit it right away don’t blame me" he groans.

As the game progressed, your bickering intensified.

"B6" Jonathan called out.

You glance at the board and softly nod your head "Hit"

Eddie leans closer, his voice a teasing whisper, "I told you the corner was better"

"Just focus"

When it was your turn, Eddie called out "G4"

Nancy checks their board, "Miss"

You smirk "Looks like your guess wasn’t so great either"

Eddie rolls his eyes "Just wait"

A few rounds later, it was your turn again.

"E5" Eddie calls out.

"Miss" Nancy announces.

"I told you they wouldn’t put it there" you huff.

"Like you’ve done any better"

"How about C3?" you roll your eyes.

"Fine, C3" Eddie sighs.

"Hit" Jonathan says between his teeth.

"See? I told you" you smirk.

"Don’t get cocky, princess"

The tension built as the game neared its end, each team with only one ship left.

"Last shot, let's go with G3" Eddie says

You nod.

"You sunk our battleship" Jonathan confirms after a long sigh.

“YES!”

“COME ONN” both you and Eddie shout in excitement and before even thinking about it you hug tightly.

Robin and Steve watch the scene with wide eyes and smirks on their faces.

And the second your bodies touch each other you realize what you’re actually doing. The hug only lasts few seconds before you both back away awkwardly.

“See? You actually do make a pretty good team” Robin comments.

“Only because I took the last shot” Eddie says.

“Oh please, if it were up to you we’d still be guessing corners” you reply.

"And if it were up to you, we'd be stuck in the middle forever”

Your friends roll their eyes as the bickering continued. And as you act indifferent, you try not think about how you had to stand on the tip of your toes to wrap your arms around his neck, or how soft his hair had felt touching your skin.

His frizzy and chaotic hair. But so curly and soft.

--

Couple of weeks after that night had passed, you hung out with the guys almost every weekend. You favorite nights were the ones Eddie was busy and couldn’t make it. Like tonight.

“Pass the salt, please” Nancy asks Robin. You all went out to have dinner together. Not all actually, Jonathan was too busy as well, him you did miss.

“It’s like we’re having a girl’s night!” you say excitedly and both girls laugh as well.

“No, you’re not about to count me in as a girl” He complains.

“Oh please, you have better hair than me!” Robin comments and he rolls his eyes.

“I’m just teasing, jeez! Someone has their panties in a twist!” you joke.

“Are you on your period or something?” Nancy joins in sarcastically.

“Alright, not even funny” Steve interrupts. “Let's focus. I think we should keep planning the trip, even though we’re not all here tonight”

“Don’t even mention it. I miss Jonathan so much, he’s been so busy lately. I think he really needs a break” Nancy complains and Robin agrees with her.

“I know, it’s really noticeable when Eddie’s not here either”

“Oh yeah, he’s the one I miss. His irritating voice and loud comments. His annoying essence it’s what’s missing here!” you joke but they don’t find it funny.

“We’ve been through this, you’re gonna have to learn to like each other”

“Sure sure, so… the trip?” you change the topic acting foolish.

“Yeah, I liked the hiking option. We always go to the lake every summer, we should change it up” Nancy votes. You’ve never went to any lake with them since this is the first year you’re joining them. But they had told some stories about this hidden lake they usually go to in summer.

“I think so too, plus we should do something different since we have a new integrant” Steve comments smiling at you. Robin and you also agree to go with that option.

The guys make sure of telling the rest everything you have agreed on that night. You’ve settled on where to go hiking and the cabin that would be waiting for you at night.

A few weeks later you're all set to go.

The trip to get there was...

Steve and Jonathan took turns driving. "You must be a really shitty driver if no one here trusts you behind the wheel" you notice and tell Eddie.

"I'm not a bad driver, princess. Maybe we could go for a drive sometime and you could judge for yourself! We'll call it a date" Eddie teases you the way he knows will shut you up, it always worked. As soon as he started flirting with you, it was like you got shy all of the sudden. Replying with some nonsense that would make Eddie laugh harder because he knew he had won.

"I'd rather get eaten by a shark" you respond ignoring the nervousness that ran through your body.

"Alright, we still have a few hours ahead of us, and I'm not gonna make them with you two bickering the whole way there. So calm down" Steve —or actually, mom Steve— told you off.

Once you got to the cabin, you parked the car, settled everything down, ate something and got ready for today's hiking exercise.

Eddie was never a big fan of sports, so he knew that after an hour or so of hiking —no matter how slow they were walking or how much water he was drinking— he would just start to stay a little behind. Not a lot, but definitely the last on the row.

Also, he started to get bored. Eddie was chatting with Jonathan, but he started to take pictures of every little plant or flower he saw, and the higher you got, the more pictures of the view he wanted to take.

So Eddie started to walk in silence, taking notice of other little things, like the fact that you and Steve look pretty close and pretty giggly with each other since you started hiking. But not only that, obviously, it's not like he's jealous or anything. For him to be jealous he would have to like you in the first place, and there was no way Eddie wants you.

You're the obvious person to like; everyone in Hawkins is already smitten with you. Every guy has a crush on you because you're undeniably beautiful. He knew from the first moment he saw you that you'd never go for a guy like him. So, to keep himself from showing any sign that he wanted you, he did the opposite —he started to hate you.

So he is definitely not jealous. He was only noticing that like he noticed the colourful rocks that he walked by, or the clouds in the sky, or the way those shorts hug your body so nicely.

But he keeps hearing your laughter every ten seconds. Was Steve really being that funny, or you were acting all giggly for him? Did you like Steve? It certainly seems like you do.

You, however, were having so much fun. In the middle of a funny story Steve was telling you about some guy who tried to flirt with Robin at work and the look on her face not knowing how to tell him she didn’t like him —or well, any men for that matter.

The forest path was rugged, but you welcomed the challenge at first, feeling the cool morning air on your skin. However, after a while, your legs began to protest, your breath came in shorter gasps. It was hard to keep up with Steve. Swimmer and football player Steve. So you had to slow down a little, now walking alongside Eddie.

“What’s the matter, princess? Can’t keep up?” he teases with a mocking tone.

“You literally got behind sooner than me” you answer, shaking your head. “If anyone’s slow here, it’s you”

“But it looks like we're both walking together now, so who's really winning?” Eddie chuckles, unfazed by your sharp reply as his eyes twinkle with amusement.

You decide to ignore him. How foolish of you to think that he would accept that silence.

“So what’s the deal between you and Steve? You looked pretty cozy back there. You’re not very subtle, you know”

“There’s no deal with Steve, we were just talking” you roll your eyes, irritation flaring up.

"Right, just talking" he says, his tone dripping with scepticism. "You’re so obvious, it's almost painful to watch"

“Why don’t you stop jumping to conclusions and mind your own business” 

“Ohh, is the princess mad at me now? I’m so scared!” he grins, clearly pleased with himself.

“You’re impossible” you say almost to yourself.

You kept walking for a few more hours, taking occasional breaks to catch your breath and sip some water. The trail seemed endless, but the beauty of the forest made it worth the effort.

As you trudged along, you noticed the sky darkening. Grey clouds, rolling in with alarming speed. The wind picked up, rustling the leaves more aggressively.

A man in uniform hurrying down the trail called you out. "Hey, you guys need to find shelter! A big storm is coming in fast. There's no way you'll make it back down in time"

Panic start to appear in all of your eyes.

“Wait? Seriously?” Nancy asks.

“Yes! There’s a motel that’s a few minutes away, to your left” the guy informs you. “I don’t know how much room they have left, cause I’ve been sending some people there already. But you should go now”

Finally after quickening your pace, you spot the outline of a motel nestled among the trees. You hurry towards it. As you approach, you see the motel was old but resistant.

You reach the door and push it open, stumbling inside just as the storm unleashed its full fury. Inside, it was dim and musty, but at least it was dry.

“Hello, uh, we need room for six, please” Nancy is the first one to get to the register and talk to the old woman who was reading a newspaper as if she hadn’t heard you coming in.

“$70 the night” she answers without even looking up at you.

“Uhh… okay, we’ll take it” Nancy says and as you all reach for you wallets, the woman gives you three keys.

“There’s only three rooms left, two with queen beds and one with two separate single beds” she speaks again, as slowly as she can apparently.

“SEPARATE BED” Robin shouts fast.

“ME TOO” Steve is quickly to join her on calling dibs for that room. Not wanting to share a bed.

“Wait! No!” you complain. “Why would you get it just cause you screamed?”

“We called dibs, sorry sweetie” Robin explains.

“But that’s not fair, we should have discussed it!” Eddie joins in.

“Too late” Steve says handing the money to the woman and taking the key of their room.

“Come on guys, maybe they have a couch” Jonathan tries to make you feel better as he also pays and picks a key to their room.

“Are you actually making us share a bed?!” you ask them offended.

“Maybe it’ll help you become friends!” Robin tells you.

After paying and grabbing that stupid key, you all go to your rooms. As you walk in you notice that, in fact, there is no couch.

“Fuck” Eddie complains once again. “I’ll take the floor, let’s just find some blankets that I can sleep on”

And you turn that room upside down trying to find some. But the only blanket in the room is the –only– one on the bed.

“There’s nothing here!” you sit on the bed admitting defeat. “We’re both gonna have to sleep on the bed. I’m gonna freeze without a blanket and you can’t sleep on the bare floor, you’d freeze too”

“If you wanted to sleep with me, you could’ve just said so” Eddie jokes.

“Not now, Munson! Really not in the mood!”

After each getting ready for bed, you start building a wall of pillows in the middle. Separating his part of the bed from yours.

“I bet you wouldn’t make Steve have a wall of pillows” he mumbles, but you’re able to hear him nonetheless.

“Did you not listen when I said not now?!”

“See, that’s the problem with you. You think you can just walk in here acting like you own the fucking place. Newsflash, princess, not everyone is going to fall at your feet following your little orders!” Eddie gets mad for real this time, but so are you.

“I’m so sorry for trying to make this less uncomfortable! Actually, if you want I’ll even cuddle you while we sleep!”

“Shut up” Eddie rolls his eyes.

“No really, we should even make out before sleeping while we’re at it! Maybe that’ll prove to you that I don’t fucking like Steve”

“Yeah, you wish” Eddie comments.

“Actually, I think you wish. Giving that you’re always trying to flirt with me when we argue and giving how jealous you seem to be about Steve” you notice.

“I’m not fucking jealous. And you’re the one suggesting to fucking make out!”

“See, I think you do want to. You’re just too much of a pussy to even admit it” you whisper close to his face.

“Oh my God, princess!” Eddie starts laughing arrogantly. “You wouldn’t even be able to handle me”

“Oh yeah, you’re right! I could not handle your two centimetres because I would be too busy laughing my ass off at your angry half inch” you respond at his face.

But he doesn’t say anything back. He just looks at you. His jaw clenching, eyes darkening, breath heaving.

Before you can react, he closes the distance in one swift, aggressive movement. Gripping your arms tightly, he kissed you fiercely and angrily, his lips bruising against yours, as if trying to channel all the pent-up emotions into that kiss.

To say that you're shocked would be an understatement. But you did kiss him back. How could you not? With all the ardor and sentiment that he was putting into that kiss?

That fucking kiss.

After he felt your lips moving along with his in a dance, he let all the anger go. The kiss became passionate and intense instead of angry. Like you were finally letting go. Stopped overthinking and finally giving in.

You didn't need to talk. You didn't want to. Instead, you put one hand on his haw and the other on his hair, feeling it in between your fingers, bringing him even closer.

He sighs, holding a grunt as he feels you play with his hair. His hands move lower to your hips, feeling the upper part of your body in the process.

A fight for dominance is held up between you two. He bites your lip harshly, and you let out a little gasp that allows him to win. He's playing dirty. You're not surprised.

He starts to push you down slowly, so you're lying on the bed with him on top of you.

Your hands travel lower as well as you feel his back. You wonder if he has any tattoos there as well.

He dares to leave your lips alone as he lowers his kisses to your jaw and then your neck. He kisses and bites and licks all over your neck. You can bet that he is leaving marks as purple as a grape.

It turns you both on even more.

Eddie feels like he's flying. He's even touching the clouds. Marking you all up is only an image that haunts him in his fantasies. Like when he can't sleep, or is in the shower, or after fighting with you all evening and you're looking so beautiful and you're being such a brat. That's when he imagines leaving you all bruised out. But he's actually doing it right now, and he's going feral.

You start to feel like you're too dressed. His hands go under your shirt, and he starts to pull it up. You pull your arms up as well so he can take it off. His kisses keep traveling lower on your body. Your chest, your shoulders, the top of your breasts. He stops there. Making out with one of your nipples over the lace of your bra while pinching the other. You start moaning, your hips move searching friction on your core, and he lowers his hips so you can start dry humping him.

You feel his smirk against your sensitive skin as well as his hard on against your centre. Mocking your desperation. You're not surprised.

He moves up, meeting face to face once again. "So desperate for me, aren't you princess?" he whispers so closely to you face you can feel his lips moving and his evil smile too.

He watches you breath hard and your legs trying to close searching for that friction in between once more.

"Ask me nicely and I'll take care of you" he proposes and you roll your eyes.

You can't. You won't.

"Beg for it, princess" he tries again. "Let me hear you"

You shake your head. You're playing difficult, but Eddie likes a challenge.

"No? You're not gonna beg for me? Alright princess, you know what I'm gonna do?" he pauses to think. "I'm gonna make you cum so fast on my tongue you'll be embarrassed, and then you'll know how much of a desperate slut you can be for me"

You want to laugh and tell him off, but you are so intrigued by his confidence at the same time. You settle for a defiant look thrown at him, he catches it and smirks again. Something tells you you'll be seeing that smirk quite a lot tonight.

He unhooks your bra and throws it somewhere in the room, he squeezes your tits and caresses your nipples making a mental note to keep playing with them later. His hands travel down to your pants which are the next item being thrown away inside the room.

He takes a second to admire the view of you only on those white panties and he feels his cock jump. He proceeds to take your underwear off too, but this item is put inside his back pocket.

He puts your legs over his shoulders and lowers to be closer to your pussy. He bites his lip admiring how fucking pretty and perfect it looks. He wastes no more time and dives in.

He licks it and kisses it and sucks on it drunk on your taste. He fucking makes out with your clit and has you meowing and arching back like a damn cat.

His hands grab your thighs so hard he's probably leaving marks there too. He sighs and hums and laughs against your pussy hearing your pretty moans.

He looks up at you as you look down at him and you both feel like you could just cum at the sight alone. Your cheeks blushed, eyes watery, hair a mess, lips swollen and little moans are still coming out of them. He looks up at you while still sucking on your clit so fucking good. His eyes are covered by his bangs so you reach to move them to the side. His puppy eyes look straight at you, his hair is also a mess, and his hands are gripping you with so much force his skin as well as yours becomes whiter. And his rings feel cold and addictive against you.

You try to fight your orgasm but looking at him makes it impossible. It hits all throughout your body so good that you cry out his name as you pull on his hair.

As you catch your breath, he sits up and washes all your wetness off his face with the back of his hand, all that with a big smirk on so proud of himself.

"Still doubting me?"

You grunt, annoyed, and bring him closer. You pull his shirt over his head and take a second to admire his bare chest and arms covered in tattoos. You unbutton and unzip his pants. He's just watching you act so desperate for him to undress, enjoying every second of it like the cocky motherfucker he can be.

"Need help?" he whispers on your ear, and you nod with a pout. He stands up and takes his pants of slowly.

"These too?" he asks, signalling his boxers. You nod as you feel even hotter paying attention to the big tent he has on them.

He puts them down too, standing up proudly as you look at his big cock. "Half inch you said?" he teases you, and you look up at him as if telling him to shut the fuck up.

You sit up facing his dick. You grab it gently as you keep looking at it. How is it so... pretty? How the fuck does Eddie manages to be pretty everywhere. Even what you thought could not be pretty. He manages to make it look beautiful.

A mischievous thought crosses your mind. And you start leaving some kisses on the tip. Even a lick here and there.

He gasps unexpectedly. You put the tip in your mouth, moving your tongue around it. He lets out a little moan. You look up at him, he's already looking at you. And you proceed to slowly put all of it in your mouth while maintaining eye contact. His tip touches your throat, and you have to fight a gag. You still have a full fist grabbing the rest that didn't fit your mouth. He moans again at your little show. You close your eyes and start moving your head up and down. Eddie moans louder this time, and hands stop your movements.

"As much as I enjoy this, princess, and I really fucking am" he lets you know. "I want to cum once I'm inside of your perfect little pussy, can I?"

You take him out of your mouth with a 'pop' at the end and look at him defiantly once again. "Beg for it" you challenge him feeling proud of yourself.

He laughs. "Are you seriously telling me to beg for it while you're still practically on your knees for me?"

You won't let him win this one, so you lay back again resting on your elbows. "Beg for it"

He takes a big breath in ogling over all of your body on display for him and only him. He'll let you win this one because his dick is throbbing at the sight before him.

His hands travel up your legs and your hips to your waist. "Please, princess" he says once his face is closer to yours.

"Please, let me fuck you so good" he starts humping his dick against your pussy which makes you both gasp.

"Please, please, please" he kisses your cheek to sugar-coat you.

"Eddieee" you move your pelvis up and down against him. "Do it, put it in"

And he wastes no time to do so. Pushing his tip inside and you both gasp. He bites his lip and thrusts to enter you completely.

"Oh, fuck" your head is thrown back and you lay back down. He feels so big and so fucking good in you.

"Mhh, fuck princess" he lowers his body to be chest to chest with you. "You feel so good baby, so tight around me"

You have to bite your tongue to stop you from moaning his name, you can't keep inflating his ego.

"Don't get all quiet now. You're always talking and the one time I wanna hear you..." he teases you.

"Earn it" you manage to get out. It's ironic how your lips are almost bleeding from how hard you're biting on them to stop you from moaning as hard as you want to, but you still tell him to fuck you better.

Eddie knows what you're doing, but he likes playing with you too. So he accepts the challenge.

He gets up on his knees against the bed and takes your legs to pull you closer to him. You instantly wrap them around his hips. He wraps a hand around your throat and he looks like he's about to say something, but instead, he enters you again. A moan escapes from your mouth instantly, and you see his big smirk back.

He starts a hard and fast pace with his thrusts as you hear his sighs against your ear. You can't help the whines and moans that escape you now. Your hands go to his back scratching him, and pulling at his hair, but it only makes him moan harder.

He lowers his head to your breasts once again and keeps kissing them as he fucks you. You arch back again, because you can feel him everywhere. And he feels so so good.

He feels you clench around his dick and he thinks he could just cum right now. So he starts playing with your clit with his fingers.

"Eddiee... 'm so closee" you whine pulling him somehow even closer.

"Yeah? You are?" you nod desperately. "Beg for it" he whispers and smirks right after saying it.

You roll your eyes but it doesn't take much to convince you this time.

"Please, Eddie," he was about to tell you that you can do better, but beat him to it. "Please baby, you feel so good inside of me, so big. Eddie, please"

Eddie has to stop himself from cuming -which he almost does. "Cum for me, baby"

And you do. Your orgasm hits even harder than the first one. You gasp and whine without even thinking about it.

Few seconds after that, Eddie can't take it anymore. He feels you clench even harder while you cum and it becomes too much. So he lets go too while moaning your name against your skin.

You take a few seconds to catch your breaths when you feel Eddie pull out —and after admiring how his cum drips out of your pussy— he gets up, puts on his boxers and goes to the bathroom, only to come back with a wet towel to clean you up. To say he surprised you again was an understatement. Who would have thought he would be so careful?

After you go to the bathroom as well —with wobbly legs Eddie smirks about— and change into some comfy clothes, you both lay down. No wall pillow this time. And are quick to fall asleep after all the exercise you did today.

The next morning wasn’t so sweet. Loud knocking on your bedroom’s door accompanied a loud Robin telling you to get up already.  

Waking up all curled up with him was bound to happen. But if someone would have told you yesterday morning that today you would be waking up with Eddie Munson spooning you, you would have laughed at their face.

But here you are, and to be honest, it had been a while since you slept so peacefully.

You feel him groaning against the skin of your shoulder, holding you tighter.

You slowly opened your eyes to accustom to the light.

“Did you end up killing each other last night?! Answer me!” Robin shouts again from the other side of the door.

“Certainly feels like it” Eddie murmurs and laughs at his own joke.

“We’re awake! Calm down!” you let her know.

“We have to leave so then we can breakfast, so hurry up!” she lets you know.

You get up and start tiding up. Eddie is slower, he sits on the bed barely opening one eye to look at you and smiles. “Good morning, princess”

You look at him and a little smirk escapes from your lips. “Hey” you greet him shyly.

You both start changing to get down and tidy everything down. After you both brush your teeth, you go to pick up your backpack but he stops you to pull you in close to him.

“Good morning” he says again with his face close to yours while he pulls a strand of your hair behind your ear. Then he proceeds to kiss you, sweetly this time. Which warms your heart. You kiss him back playing with his hair once again.

“Hi, Munson” you say sweetly against his lips.

“You look beautiful in the morning” he admits but before you can even react, the knocking on your door is back.

“Okay! Okay! We’re coming!” Eddie stops them. “Jesus”

After getting down, you were waiting for them to explain where you would be having breakfast but as soon as they see you they start looking at you funny.

“What?” Eddie asks being as confused as you but they all start laughing.

“What is going on?” you ask again.

“Are we just gonna pretend like nothing happened?” Jonathan asks now.

“Yeah, were you gonna act like you still hate each other today?” Steve teases.

And you understand all the laughter. You and Eddie look at each other surprised and apparently this is also very funny because they start laughing again.

“Oh fuuuck” Jonathan starts mocking the way Eddie sounded last night also acting like moaning your name.

“Oh Eddie, so close!” Steve joins him acting like you.

Your face is as red as a tomato right now and you feel like you could just die, it would be better than taking whatever this is. You hide your face in Eddie’s shoulder after he just rolls his eyes fighting another smirk.

He laughs at you, put stills hugs you.

“You wanted us to like each other…” He defends you two.

“Yeah, apparently you took that very literal” Robin teases after catching her breath.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Shoutout to Monster Anon for another amazing idea

Yandere Short Stories:

Right Where I Want You

Yandere Private Investigator x Fem Reader

TW: Yandere themes, delusional behavior, unhealthy behavior, racism (ex mil makes a comment), savior complex, murder, stalking, etc.

Inhale. Exhale. Nicalli blew cigarette smoke from his lips while his body sunk into his plush couch in his pent house. Another failure of a day in an attempt to find dirt on his target.

The stench from his lit cigarette did little to soothe the loneliness in Necalli’s heart. No, this small vice merely burned the back of his throat and made his clothes reek of bad decisions. This small action did little to satiate the growing lust that consumed his very being.

Nicalli ran an umber hand through his long, black hair. A few strands stuck to his sweaty palms while his heart raced in his chest.

Nicalli had been plagued with alien feelings ever since he’s taken on this new case. The case that involved the Goldberg family and their son’s fiancée, (your full name).

He has been a private investigator for over a decade and he’s never had someone be so innocent. How could (your name) not have a single speck of dirt on her?! Good people didn’t exist in this world! There was no way someone so pure could be involved with the Goldberg family…

Nicalli sighed in frustration and put his cigarette out on the jaguar shaped ashtray on his coffee table. His russet eyes scanned the various documents before him in frustration.

All he had were pictures of her helping at the local soup kitchen and her indulging in her small hobbies. She was so mundane… he didn’t have anything to give his employer to ‘protect her precious son.’

Nicalli had been on this case for eight months now and he still had nothing but pictures of this absurdly beautiful woman. Henry Goldberg was lucky to have such a faithful woman… Nicalli would die for one.

Nicalli didn’t believe in love after the betrayal of his lover when he was in the military. It was that betrayal that made him become a private investigator in the first place so no one else had to find out like he did… yet this life was lonely. Nicalli was so lonely and now he was enchanted by his target. How pathetic was that?

Nicalli continued to admire to various pictures he had of (your name). She was really beautiful… how could someone smile so joyously? There was nothing in this world to be happy about… or was there?

.

.

.

Nicalli recalled the memory of when he first received this job. He sat in the Goldberg mansion’s study. His large body squished into a small leather chair while the mother and son gave him fake smiles.

“We need you to investigate (your full name).” Mrs. Goldberg pushed a file towards Nicalli, the Mexican man accepted the file with a solemn look. “I feel like she’s cheating on my son… or even involved in some sort of illegal activity.”

Nicalli was shocked to open the file to see the smiling face of a beautiful young woman. This woman was involved in some sort of illegal activity? She looked like she couldn’t harm a fly!

“I will be able to sleep better at night knowing my son is in good hands.” Mrs. Goldberg she d a few crocodile tears before Henry Goldberg handed Nicalli a check that would make anyone gasp at the amount.

“I heard you’re the best in the business so please, don’t disappoint us.”

Nicalli took the money and nodded his head. He could do this… this job would be like all the others…

.

.

.

Nicalli felt his breath hitch the first day he saw (your name). He’s never seen someone so pretty before… she had to be some sort of forest fairy rather than a human.

Nicalli studied her from his car, his russet eyes studied her in great interest. He has followed her around for weeks now and there was still not a speck of dirt on her…

Nicalli was in disbelief. (Your name) seemed to be a good person… but he was determined to find something on her. Anything would do.

So he continued to stalk her which brought him to present day…

.

.

.

“Have a good day!” (Your name) smiled at the various homeless people that inhabited the soup kitchen. She served each one with a cheery smile, even if they seemed displeased with her.

Nicalli sat in the corner at a bench. His russet eyes studied her in distaste. Didn’t she tire of this? These people didn’t appreciate her company… no one seemed to despite her constant efforts. Nicalli didn’t understand the point of her unnecessary kindness.

(Your name) was so sweet, she could make teeth rot. A woman like her didn’t belong in a place like this, it was dangerous-

Nicalli jumped when (your name) stood before him, a bowl of soup in her hands.

“Hello?” (Your name) tilted off her head to the side as she studied Nicalli in interest. “I always spot you here, but you never come up to the stand so I thought I’d come to you.”

Shit. He had grown careless since she’s so docile… now she knew his face. Should he just call the mission a done deal?

Nicalli was shocked when she gently placed the bowl in front of him with a soft smile. “Here. Enjoy some soup, okay? You always look so sad…”

Nicalli bit his tongue. No matter how badly he wanted to refuse her, he couldn’t bring himself to. If he rejected her kindness, it would be as if he kicked a puppy. And people do not kick puppies.

Nicalli was surprised that the soup was delicious but then he saw her smile even wider.

“I made the soup, so please enjoy to your heart’s content. If you need anything, I’m (your name)! I’ll see you around, mister!” She then went back to the kitchen while Nicalli sat dumbfounded.

The Hispanic man sat there for a few minutes longer before he felt a blush envelope his cheeks. His heart wildly leapt in his chest and his palms began to sweat buckets. What just happened to him?

There was no way… no way he had a crush on (your name)? Yet he couldn’t help the way his eyes shyly glanced towards her bubbly form while she served the rest of the costumers.

She was a good person… (your name) was a genuinely good person. Nicalli was sure of it. And now he needed to report his findings to the Goldbergs.

.

.

.

It took everything in Nicalli not to choke slam Henry Goldberg into the velvet carpet in his study. This man was a bastard… he didn’t deserve (your name).

“God, I thought you were the best of the best!” Henry sighed while his parents chuckled.

“Now son, I’m sure he’ll find something on that commoner.” Mrs. Goldberg pointed out to her son who scoffed.

“Mommy, at the rate he’s going. He’ll need to make something up!” Henry hummed, the man reached for his check book. “How much money do you need to fabricate a lie on her? I truly cannot marry a commoner, but it looks good for the citizens-“

Nicalli furrowed his brow. What on earth were they on about? “Aren’t you happy she’s a good person?”

Henry and his mother paused before the two of them erupted into laughter. “Happy she’s a good person? No one told us you were a comedian!!”

“How about you plant one of my necklaces or jewels in her home so we have the grounds to annul this engagement? I really cannot have my son end up with a woman so poor like that.” Mrs. Goldberg took off her diamond necklace and tried to hand it to Nicalli but the private investigator pushed it back toward her. “Oh come on. People like you are familiar with stealing, right?”

Nicalli’s head spun in horror and confusion. They were going to frame her to make themselves look better for the people… they were going to frame an innocent woman for a crime. The Goldbergs were horrible people… horrible villains.

“Mother, not all Mexicans are thieves.” Henry rolled his eyes before he gave Nicalli a knowing smile. “But I do need you to pin a crime of some sort on her. I can’t have her have the Goldberg family name.”

Even though Nicalli wanted to scream at the two of them, he must feel himself in. He needed to have evidence to show (your name) to save her. Nicalli wanted to save her… she didn’t deserve to have her name tarnished over corrupt people like these ones.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Nicalli gave the Goldbergs a stiff smile. Yes… he’d contact his sources to dig dirt up on the Goldbergs.

Nicalli didn’t become a private investigator to harm innocent people. Nicalli did this to protect the innocent from heart break.

.

.

.

Nicalli threw his coffe table across the room after his source had called him and faxed him over pictures of Henry Goldberg with escorts. Bastard… that fucking bastard!

Henry had this perfect woman and he cheated on her with escorts?! He was involved in drug and sex slave trafficking?! This was a rabbit hole Nicalli never thought he’d find himself in… and he had to get (your name) out.

A man like that didn’t deserve her… not like he did. Nicalli would treasure a woman like her. He’s pamper her and make sure she was properly pleasured- what the hell was that?!

Nicalli shook his head to clear his thoughts. How dare he think of her in such a way… Nicalli wasn’t worthy of her.

Nicalli’s cheeks flushed in anger. Henry had to suffer. He had to pay for his crimes. The Goldbergs had to pay for their crimes.

Nicalli snatched one of the pictures up before he was able to locate Henry’s location. It would be easy to track him down… Nicalli was all too familiar with the Red Light District.

All he needed to do was figure out which vehicle was his, but that couldn’t be too hard. Henry was a classic spoiled narcissist. His car would be colorful and loud, just like him.

.

.

.

The death of Henry Goldberg was on every news channel and in every article. His shiny red sports car was totaled and the bodies of two escorts were found with him. The cause of death was drunk driving and brake failure.

There was not a doubt in Nicalli’s mind that (your name) would be distraught… but he had to take care of Mrs. Goldberg first.

Nicalli adjusted his black leather gloves on his hands as he slowly approached the Goldberg’s office to discuss further business. The pistol with a silencer attached was buried deep within his coat.

This was all for (your name)‘s future… for their future together. It only made sense to him that he got the girl after saving her! Nicalli could make her happy!

Nicalli would have (your name) right where he wanted her…

.

.

.

(Your name) sniffled in her bed, her body trembled in sorrow. She couldn’t believe Henry died and his mother had committed suicide… she knew Mrs. Goldberg adored her son, but she had no idea it was to such an extent…

Yet she wasn’t surprised about Henry being a deviant. It was why she avoided being physical with him. There was a small voice in the back of her head that told her he was bad news… yet was it wrong for her to want the money to live a good life? She’d never have to worry about bills again if she married him… but then he sent the private investigator her way.

God, it irritated her… but she wasn’t a horrible person. She just wanted a better life was all… was that a crime?

And she always felt unsettled under that man’s gaze. He had such sharp features and such a piercing stare. There was no way people didn’t know he was there when his presence felt like a predator’s.

The man had such a bewitching appearance. Hell, his hair was prettier than hers and his hooked nose was gorgeous… that private investigator was more attractive than her dead white fiancé.

So when she had a package full of photos of Henry with escorts, she knew it was her ‘stalker.’ It was nice to know he had a good moral compass, but these photos were too late. They weren’t anything she wasn’t aware of.

Despite her bubbly attitude, (your name) was not naive. She knew the Goldbergs weren’t good people. No old money family were.

(Your name) sighed as she rose up from her bed and wiped her eyes. There went her plan to be with a man with a trust fund…

(Your name) was surprised to see a bouquet of red roses and carnations on her doorstep. It seemed that private investigator may have a crush.

(Your name) smiled in thought. He was a private investigator for rich people, right? Then maybe he had the money to ensure she had a good life?

She turned her head and spotted the shy man on his car. That classic 1964 Chevrolet impala always stuck out like a sore thumb.

(Your name) wiped her eyes a bit before she gave him a smile. She could spot his red cheeks from her place by her door. It seemed she wouldn’t have to work too hard for this one… because she had him right where she wanted him.

[delightfultheoristfox]

Never had a thing

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

I have no clue how this works the thought process was like: since I'm stuck in the worst writing block of my life why don't I start crossposting on Tumblr so it kind of feels like I've accomplished something while the truth is that I haven't been able to complete a WIP in two months? 🫠 I never posted on Tumblr. Is this okay? Anyways, Simon Riley brain rot. That's it. That's the post. Also, you can find this on AO3. 18+

Word count: 10k CW: smutty!!! jealous Simon Riley BECAUSE I honestly crave that. Soft Simon Riley because I crave that as well.

Masterlist 🦊

𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

Simon had groaned like a battered dog when Price gave him the news that he needed to lie low. “Someone in Konni’s got your name” he’d said. “We don’t wanna take any risks. Just for a few weeks.”

He was sure those few weeks would turn into a few bloody months if he didn’t get a move on. For that, he’d hastily packed his things from the poor excuse of a flat the army had granted him, and started looking for a place to stay that wasn’t in Manchester.

Initially, Simon almost fantasized about buying his own flat. Maybe a piece of land and fulfill the wishes of the outcast that he was – living away from people, giving them the same treatment they’ve always given him.

Too bad he was legally dead. He had nothing to his name if not a grave that didn’t even exist, all his possessions were cursed memories and metaphorical things – a rank he didn’t hold, a flat that wasn’t his. Even his name barely pertained to him anymore.

The SAS wasn’t offering any accommodation, the tightwads. He couldn't buy a house, or rent one. He couldn't lean on any of his teammates, or he'd put them in danger – he wouldn't do it, not to them. Taint their lives with his name and the death it inevitably brings.

Price had helped him settle in a glorified motorway hotel. But he wasn’t picky – after all, he only had to stay for a few weeks.

A few days into his exile, he’d entered a Tesco with his head bowed and his hood on, a surgical mask on his face. A pack of Marlboro was all he wanted since the dodgy motel he was staying at (hiding) didn’t care if he smoked within the room. Plus, he reckoned that the smell of nicotine and combustion was a much better alternative to the rancid stench of mold.

However, as he plucked ten quid from his wallet, his eyes absently fell on a bulletin board behind the store clerk. There were tons of leaflets there: missing cats or dogs, people looking for a job or offering one. And then, a bright yellow��paper caught his eye. Whoever printed it lacked taste but sure as hell knew how to catch one’s attention. He’d stopped in his tracks, a tenner between two fingers.

DESPERATE!!! PhD STUDENT LOOKING FOR A FLATMATE. NO SPECIFIC GENDER OR AGE AS LONG AS YOU CAN PAY RENT ON TIME. Two-bedroom flat, third floor, no elevator. If interested, please contact this number.

At the end of the flyer, the paper was cut into tear-off strips, so that interested individuals could rip the section with the phone number.

He liked that first word: desperate. He wondered if this person was as desperate as he was. Would they accept a man who wore a balaclava and looked proper sketchy? How desperate were they, really, if he asked to rent on verbal agreement – no contracts, no signatures whatsoever?

He decided he wanted to test that before he died of mold poisoning.

Nevertheless, when he dialed the number on his burner phone a few hours later, he wasn’t expecting the voice coming through the line. A shriek. A goddamn banshee. Chirpy and cheery, sounding like those damn advertisements on the telly for children’s toys. Whoever was on the other side of the phone was trying to sell.

The obnoxiously happy voice he’d heard through the receiver surely did match the person he found at the door of the flat a few days later - and the apartment itself.

It was a splash of colors Simon wasn’t even sure matched, from oranges and greens in the living room to yellows and blues in the kitchen. Walls of the same room were painted differently, and a brown leather couch lay on a round and fluffy turquoise carpet. A glass coffee table stood in the middle of it, hosting a clay vase with orange tulips.

You were a splash of colors yourself. Bright clothes, vibrant smile, and matching eyes.

Notwithstanding the loud energy that came with your presence, he could see you were tense as you guided him through the apartment. Simon didn’t blame you – he wasn’t the most trustworthy-looking lad. While he’d ditched the balaclava and had decided to go for a surgical mask, even hewould walk on eggshells around himself.

“Only a few weeks.” He’d said, deciding that he could withstand the eyesore that was the decor of that flat. “I’ll cover the rent while you find someone more permanent.”

And to his utter surprise, you’d accepted. He thought it was much too naïve of you, to let him rent without a lease. Without a document, without anything to prove that he'd pay as he'd promised in that listless fashion of his. Maybe you were as desperate as your tasteless leaflet said, in that dive of a Tesco.

He moved in in the span of a few days. You helped him with the boxes, although it was clear he didn't need a hand – especially not from a tiny thing like you. Not that you were small, he was just built like a brick house and you – well, you were made of wood, like in those cautionary tales mums tell their children. Pigs and wolves and shite.

You didn’t question why he wore the balaclava, nor why he never left his room, but sometimes you’d knock on his door to ask if he wanted pizza too, since you were ordering. He’d eat it (and any of his other meals really) in the cramped space he'd managed to rent, hosting only a bed, a poor excuse of a closet, and a desk.

Until one day he heard booming noises coming from the telly in the living room, so he peeked from the door he’d left ajar only to be greeted by Tom Cruise’s mug – Top Gun. 

Silently, he joined you on the sofa and he started correcting the way Maverick held the gun or grunting about how an aircraft couldn't make that maneuver. You never asked how he knew, but it had been a few weeks since he’d moved in and he’d already gathered how brilliant you were. You didn’t need to ask questions to connect the dots.

Simon wasn't keen on giving you his phone number, even the one on his burner phone. The paranoid that he was, and with a bit of experience to back it up, he didn't want to leave you with anything that could connect you to him.

So, you started leaving post-it notes on the fridge.

Dinner leftovers on the second rack. He’d tick off the sentence to let you know he’d read it, whether he ate them or not. Simon had this inborn ability to ghost people even without the use of phones.

Tried a new recipe. Tupperware with the blue lid. He’d write a score out of ten on the corner of the note.

I used your milk for breakfast!!! Sorry!!! He had huffed and grumbled when he’d headed out for groceries afterwards, but ever since that day, he started buying two cartons instead of one.

And he'd leave post-it notes for you, too.

Out for a few days. That’s how he would vaguely tell you he was being deployed. You would always draw a sad emoji next to it.

Watered your plants. Bloody things were more dead than alive. You’d mark down a very happy emoji, going as far as to add two poorly drawn thumbs up.

He barely noticed when his meals started happening on the kitchen table instead of his desk. Similarly, he couldn’t recall when he’d stopped taking pains to ensure your mealtimes wouldn’t coincide.

Friday night pizzas were always shared; it was a silent house rule you’d both agreed on. The both of you on the settee with the carton boxes on your thighs, two cold beers on the glass coffee table, and the telly playing a movie.

Your cheeky arse often chose a war film, and Simon had to refrain from rolling his eyes at how obvious you were being – trying to get to know him.

Zero Dark Thirty.

“Is it true you use callsigns?”

“Yes.”

“You have one?”

“Yes.”

“What is it, then?”

“Classified.”

“Oh, c’mon.”

“Negative.”

The hurt locker.

“You ever defused a bomb?”

“Yes.”

“No shit – oh my God. How was it?”

“Dangerous.”

“Why thank you for the chat.”

“No problem.”

“When did it happen? Like, what was the situa-”

“Classified.”

You made a face and mocked his accent. “Classified.”

Apocalypse now.

“You are a bit like Kurtz.”

He gave you a look. “Mental?”

You huffed. “No. I meant the things he says, not the whole insanity bit.”

Simon scoffed but otherwise stayed silent. The film rolled in the background.

He murmured, then. “The horror, the horror.”

And you laughed.

He found it inexplicably easy to strip down for you, until he stood metaphorically naked in front of your eyes. Until he told you his full name and gave you his personal phone number. Until he showed his face.

Until he noticed you'd stopped looking for a flatmate, and his weeks of rent turned into months like he’d initially foreseen, but for another reason entirely. Months turned into years, but he could’ve never predicted anything in his life to last this long.

Until two summers later, while sporting a mundane black surgical mask and casual clothing, he took a photo with you in your doctoral gown, in front of your Uni. The same picture that now hung next to the entryway of your flat.

Until two years became three, and then four.

Until he just kind of… stayed.

𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

Simon’s day has worn him to the bone. The only thing he wants now is to go home, down a beer in two gulps, and knock himself out on any flat surface available.

He’s risked his fair share of speeding fines on the motorway, parked the car in the building's garage, and trudged up the three flights of stairs that led to his apartment. When he unlocks the door, he finds a sight that melts his frustration into a puddle at his feet.

You’re lying on the sofa, absolutely unbothered, looking lovely and homely. A lousy romcom plays on the telly. One hand is hiding in the crinkling shell of a packet of Walkers, and your other one is curled around the neck of a Stella Artois. Simon gathers that your workday must've finished a little earlier than normal because you’re already in your loungewear: a pair of loose sleeping shorts and a t-shirt he knows all too well.

All too well, because it’s his. 

And he could give you the benefit of the doubt; after all, you often wear oversized clothes. It could’ve been a laundry mishap; you could’ve absently taken it out of the dryer without a second glance, thinking it was yours. But the blatant British Army patch on the sleeve and his surname written in white block letters on the back give him very little to work with to excuse you. He doesn’t even remember he still owned that tee, probably because, factually, he doesn’t anymore.

It's clearly yours, now.

He drops the house keys in the tray lying on the floating shelf next to the doorway, before closing the door behind him. The sound must’ve alerted you, because your head drops backwards, rolling against the armrest of the sofa.

"Evenin'." You beam, looking at his downward image. Your head lolls and your mouth looks busy chewing on a handful of crisps.

Ever the vigilant bastard, he wants to flick your forehead and remind you that chewing upside down could lead to choking, but you aren’t a child. Although, with the crumbs of what smells like salt and vinegar crisps littering the corners of your lips and the baffling, chaotic way your hair is tied in a bun, you sort of look like one.

You curl your legs to leave a free spot for him, patting your foot on the sofa’s cushions. "Wanna join me?"

Simon hums quietly; his eyes flicker over to the TV for just a glance. He isn’t in the mood for a romcom, not at all. But he does want company. He sighs and shrugs off his jacket before toeing off his boots. His balaclava is snatched off by a tired hand, and dropped somewhere he doesn’t care to check. Only two wide steps with his annoyingly long legs and he’s already by the sofa, flopping onto it like a wet rag slapped on the leather cushions.

He eyes the bag of crisps in your hand and raises a questioning eyebrow.

You’ve learned how silent communication works with him because most of the time (especially after particularly hellish days or long deployments) he wanders around the flat like a haunting specter more than a living being.

You mockingly raise your own questioning brow, but alas, you hand him the pack of crisps he’d wordlessly asked for. And just because you can, and because he’s never said anything when you did it, you stretch your legs to rest over his thighs.

That earns you a grumpy side-eye that softens just as quickly when he spots the checkered pink and green socks he gifted you for your graduation.

Simon doesn’t know much about things like that. He isn’t daft, he knows how big it is to earn a PhD. But presents aren’t his thing, nor are the pleasantries built around big achievements.

At the time, he was just tired of seeing you walk barefoot around the flat and thought you needed those more than anything since, apparently, slippers weren’t all the rage in your book. Surely, before his life-changing present, Simon was used to you asking if he’d seen your other slipper while you stumbled about the flat only wearing one on your feet. He’d find them everywhere: under the sofa when vacuuming the carpet, hidden in a groove between the floor and the kitchen counter, forgotten on the washing machine or in the washing machine.

He’d figured that the only way to ensure you’d avoid knocking your pinky toe on the corner of some furniture was to make sure you couldn’t simply drop the footwear. Socks were it, apparently.

He remembers how your eyes had shone like the bleeding sun when he’d given them to you, how you’d clutched them to your chest as if he’d just gifted you a pot of gold. It had been a lovely sight, one he carefully keeps tucked in the almost empty corner of his mind, the one reserved for happy memories.

Nevertheless, Simon has rarely minded your habit of lounging with your calves across his thighs. The opposite, actually. Your friendly sentiments make him feel like, for once, he isn’t about to get stabbed in the back. Moreover, the fact that he is letting you invade his personal space like that, when he never allows anyone else to so much as touch him, truly is a testament to the monumental trust he’s placed in you.

You take a sip from your beer. "Alright?"

“Peachy.” He grumbles dryly.

Your lips purse to conceal a smirk, but hell is it hard. His dry humor never fails to rob a halfhearted smile from you. He has subconsciously started using it more often than socially acceptable just because of that.

You wiggle your toes against his abdomen, trying to steal a smile of his own from him – even if those tend to appear once in a blue moon.

What you are given, however, is only a slap on the ankle.

Catching on his mood, you down one last sip from your Stella and then you wiggle the bottle at him.

"There," you offer. "Seems like you need it more than I do."

He tosses the bag of crisps on the coffee table and accepts the beer from you, taking a rather large gulp from it. He isn’t a light drinker by any means. In his defense, it takes a whole lot of alcohol to knock him out. He has the metabolism of a properly trained soldier and his liver has processed much worse things than a bloody Stella Artois.

“Why are you being particularly friendly today?” He asks with thinly veiled sarcasm.

He isn’t complaining, per se. But he is a pessimist, one who can’t seem to grasp the notion that people can act accommodating without asking anything in return. Even if that has been your only behavior for the past four years.

Therefore, Simon understands why you narrow your eyes at his question, all offended and a tiny bit sour, as if he’s just asked something outrageous. However, he also knows you’ll brush off his comment because it is true, what he said.

You are particularly cheery.

"I'm back in the game." You state, sounding as if you've achieved some great thing. "I have a date next Friday."

That.

That is what Simon needs to hear in order to give you a genuine reaction.

He raises a single blond eyebrow and glances away from the TV to look at you with that signature hooded gaze of his – the kind that could cut through steel.

“A date?” He grumbles. “Who’s the bloke?”

In response, you squirm a little on the couch to lazily reach for your phone on the coffee table. One of your legs swings to keep your balance, and if Simon didn’t have the reflexes of a sniper, you’d have heeled his face. He automatically grabs your ankle to both prevent your fall and save the integrity of his nose, releasing a sigh – bloody used to it.

You're absolutely unaffected by whatever's happening at the other end of you, awfully concentrated on your task at hand. Fingertips graze the phone enough to slide it closer until you finally manage to have it in your grasp. It’s painfully clear how you can’t be bothered to stand.

You lie back down on the sofa with a sigh, as if that has been an exhausting endeavor.

Simon scoffs.

Your legs return to his lap with apt nonchalance. Then, you swipe through your screen. Simon can only see the phone covering your face from that angle, how the screen light illuminates your features – brows furrowed and the tip of your tongue peeking between your teeth, all focused on finding something on it.

After painstakingly long seconds, you turn your phone to him. Simon squints at the screen and then focuses on the picture you’re showing.

The man is… somewhat handsome, he has to admit. Brown hair, blue eyes, charming smile with possibly fake teeth. Definitely older. Probably a boring, pretentious tosser. Probably wouldn’t appreciate your carefree nature. He wouldn’t return your lost slippers at your door. He wouldn’t buy you socks so you’d stop whining about being on the verge of breaking your toes. He definitely wouldn’t let you paint only one wall of the living room orange, because, in your opinion, having all four would be “too flashy” - as if one on its own isn’t obnoxious enough.

He has to admit, however, that you look beyond excited, and maybe a little enamored. It’s an adorable view, really, and he hates himself for being unable to rejoice about it with you.

"Adam." You tell him his name, even if he never asked. "Thirty-nine. Associate professor of Linguistics at the Uni where I graduated. Found him on Bumble.”

Simon has to physically stop himself from giving a scoff in response to that.

“Looks like a knob.” He takes yet another large gulp of beer, finishing the last drop. You frown, and before you can interject, he adds. “Looks old. Tory, probably.”

You roll your eyes and nudge his thigh with the tips of your toes.

"He ain't a Tory." You scoff. That little frown still lingers on your features, carving a small line between your brows, as if he'd personally offended you.

His comment prompts you to turn your phone to yourself and look at the picture of this Adam lad you found on Bumble of all places.

You look back at Simon and his deadpan stare. Then back at Adam and his million-dollar smile.

Your eyes swivel back to Simon again, and you tentatively ask, "You think he's a Tory?"

Simon places the empty beer bottle on the glass coffee table. The sound somehow makes you take a metaphorical step back. "Nah. He can't be."

You purse your lips, concentrated and slightly, just slightly amused.

Eyes back to Adam. Then to Simon. "Right?"

Simon looks that ounce of smug enough to be considered annoying once he notices how you’re about to go cross-eyed in changing your focus, all hesitant and that bit concerned. He already knows how you have zero faith in your own judgment of character even if you refuse to make peace with it.

A little too naïve for this world. A tad too innocent. When the topic would come up, you’d get all riled up and primitive in your frustration, muttering indiscernible words and expletives that sound like grunts. Brows all furrowed and pretty lips scowling. He'd remind you how you let him in your flat without a single proof that he wasn't a serial killing sociopath, and your mouth would lock in place.

His hand lands on the curve of your foot, smoothing down towards your ankle; the warmth of his palm bleeds through the fuzzy fabric of your socks. He sighs, a little overdramatic as if he were about to tell you some sad, sad news. "Definitely a Tory.”

You want to reprimand his lack of faith in your choice of men. But his hand on your ankle feels so nice and you’re a sucker for physical contact. Begrudgingly, you settle that your bruised ego and your wounded pride are worth the gentle giant’s warmth.

However, the lingering touch does nothing to discourage your fire, so you glower. The least believable thing he's ever seen.

It takes much more to upset a special forces operator with a series of achievements as long as Simon Riley’s. A doctor with a mop of hair lazily tied in a bun, checkered socks in his lap, and residues of crisps around her lips surely isn’t it.

"Well." You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'll ask him on Friday when we’ll have dinner."

He scoffs.

“You’re gonna bring up politics at dinner on a first date, yeah?” A condescending pat on your ankle. “Sounds really romantic.”

His dry humor again. It wins in its intent to steal a chuckle from you.

The fight leaves as quickly as it entered your bloodstream, and you flop on the couch with a sigh, your phone falling somewhere on the turquoise carpet.

"Gotta make sure I ain't dating a conservative." You quip.

Simon watches you clasp your hands over your belly as it ripples with the first waves of a breathy laugh. You crane your neck forwards, eyes squinting in mirth clocking his own.

"He looks like he’d vote Tory." You concede with a laugh and pinch the air in front of your face. "A tiny bit - just a tiny bit."

“A tiny bit?” He snorts. “Lad probably has a framed photo of Margaret Thatcher in his bedroom.”

You laugh again, rubbing an idle hand over your eyes as you shake your head, utterly defeated. He can see in the way your shoulders sag that he’s shattered the careful castle of hopes and dreams you'd built brick by brick around the man.

"God no." Equally as exasperated as entertained, you sigh. "Can't imagine shagging him with the ol' Iron Lady staring at my tits."

He scoffs again at the mental image you have just provided him with. He doubts he’ll ever forget the picture, to his dismay. “Christ. Didn’t need that in my mind.”

In the afterglow of that belly laugh, you don’t notice how he’s somewhat tightened his grip around your ankle. Simon knows you aren’t one to pay attention to those subtleties. Too focused on other people's well-being to realize when yours is being put first. He can already imagine how your heart is unraveling with the knowledge that you’ve managed to make him quirk a smile, however small, even if his day had been a proper shitshow.

The selfless angel that you are.

You turn your eyes to the ceiling, looking for something that clearly isn’t written on the colorful paint of the walls.

"All jokes aside," you murmur. "I hope it goes well."

Your eyes touch his. There’s a melancholy in yours you only allowed him to see. Thinly veiled vulnerability, heart bare just for his eyes.

"Really need a confidence boost," you say with a wistful smile. "And some love on the side."

He mutters under his breath. “Right.”

Simon tries not to wince at your words and what they imply. He thinks you’re too good to rely on other people (men, above anything) to boost your confidence. As if what he thinks are mouthwatering looks, a striking sense of humor and a brilliant mind aren’t enough to make you feel a peg above everyone else.

He hates that you don’t seem to understand it. Hates that you require other people’s approval even when you have a brain that could put most to shame and a series of achievements to boot.

He hates that despite how sharp you are, you’re slow when it comes to emotional intelligence. And it’s Simon fucking Riley who’s saying it, the most emotionally unavailable man he himself knows. It isn’t that you can’t discern signs and tells, you aren’t stupid by any means, but it’s painfully obvious how you just can’t fathom why people would be attracted to you that way. Thus, you’d always dismiss compliments and advances with annoying levity.

In four years, Simon has witnessed all your relationships wither because your lack of self-confidence made you question everything.

Seemingly aware of the tense air your comment has caused, your cheeky grin makes a comeback just to lift his spirits. You wriggle your foot under his grip to get his attention. "You think he'll like my socks?"

Simon has to admit (finally, at least true to himself) that your tireless search for reassurance about your date isn’t exactly doing wonders for his heart or his sanity.

“He’ll love them, you muppet.” He deadpans.

You chuckle at the comment, and then you relax, thinking the conversation over. Comfortable with your eyes on the telly and your hands clasped over your stomach, that gentle feeling of home and familiarity lulls you into a soft rest.

Simon on the other hand, is anything but relaxed. His jaw clenches involuntarily as if he despises even the mere idea of another man getting to see you like this: lying down, all soft and sweet and sleepy in the fuzzy socks he’s bought you. With his surname plastered on your back, of all things.

His eyes flick to the hand on your ankle. He wants to keep holding on tighter and stop you from leaving altogether. Keep you tethered to that couch without ever needing to stand up.

He could tell you to drop it. He could.

But you’re a grown woman, in her prime, with her doctorate and her big girl job that gives her enough money to start a war of her own but for some reason has never decided to pick up her things and leave that shabby flat she shares with him.

And he is poor with words. Communication is a skill he’s never learned, unless it involves extracting precious intel from skin-trading bastards or bloodthirsty pricks. He surely isn’t going to communicate with you that way, even if it's the only one he knows. The realization makes his lips dip into a scowl of self-hatred for being seemingly unable to keep you.

Simon’s eyes rake over your body – your silhouette concealed by his shirt, softly draped over you like finely carved marble. With natural flow, his hand follows the path traced by his pupils, and very deliberately slides up your leg, towards your knee.

Initially, the movement only prompts you to steal a glance from him. But when your eyes land on that frown, as if he were deep in thought, it feels natural, instinctive, to give him your undivided attention again.

Softly, you ask for the second time that day, "Alright?"

He nearly lets out a huff of laughter. Such a simple question yet so goddamn loaded he’s on the verge of blowing a gasket – his patience wearing thin. 

He locks his eyes with yours, only to snark once more. “Peachy.”

His humor this time isn’t successful in the effort of stealing a smile. In Simon’s defense, he hasn’t used it to make you crack one at all.

You frown, a tiny fracture between your brows. A little confused, mostly concerned. He can see it in your doe eyes, how you’re already miles away – overthinking every minute detail you might have missed during the conversation. You always thought so much Simon had joked, once or twice, that your skull was too small to host all that.

Your eyes shift from his face to his hand. Simon dares to be bolder and slides his palm a little higher. His fingers curl around the plush of your thigh.

"Peachy, eh?" You inquire, clearly suspicious of his antics. "You look far from peachy.”

A low scoff slips past his lips.

He is anything but peachy, he’d give you that. He is anything but sweet, far from it. Bitter, would fit better. Jealous, would fit best. He is downright pissed, but not at you. Never at you. He wishes he were a gifted conversationalist, so he could put into words what the idea of you shoving your tits in the face of some twat is making his hackles rise. He barely entertains the thought of you talking and laughing with him, never mind brushing with the concept of you riding the life out of that bastard. God forbid you brought him over and did all that in your flat – his flat.

He swallows in a piss poor attempt at juggling his feelings. His eyes shift to the TV to further conceal them.

“Just thinkin’ about work is all.” He mutters. Simon can almost hear Soap’s Scottish lilt calling him a “pining sod.”

Oh, but you’re an insistent little thing, aren’t you? Simon can hear the sheer doubt in your tone when you hum in response. The slight changes in the vibration against your frowning lips, the curves in the intonation of that simple, but so very telling sound. He catches each and every one of those details like the guard dog that he is.

In his peripherals, he sees the shifting of your eyes, from his hand to his profile. He sees you take in the crook of his nose, broken a few times (a tough job and a harsh childhood did that to him).  His furrowing brows, light honey, like his hair – all ruffled and staticky from removing his balaclava when he got home.

"Work." You deadpan, but it comes out softer than intended.

His fingers aren’t as sneaky as before when they slide further up your thigh. Simon knows you feel that same electric spark because your quadriceps stiffen under his palm.

“Work,” he affirms, his jaw tight as his hand journeys farther to reach the hem of your shorts. His thumb rubs from side to side over the skin at the edge of the fabric, and Christ, he’s fighting the growing itch to just pull them down.

While the two of you have watched plenty of films on this same sofa, in this same position, Simon has never touched you.

As in, touched you, touched you.

He’s averse to that, to anything that isn’t a noncommittal gesture. This one, however, obviously isn’t.

His hand is so big against your thigh, that plush skin underneath his callouses almost makes him feel guilty. The hardened palm used to disperse death shouldn’t touch such soft things. He feels the peachy fuzz brush against the pads of his fingers, he sees how they leave divots in the meat.

It makes his heart beat a little faster, blood pumping in all the wrong places but his head.

His expression is blank, dull eyes staring straight at the television. However, his mind is not as quelled as he portrays. It’s leading him to a very unholy place, where he wonders if your skin is as soft on your belly as it is on your thigh. Whether you’d whimper or groan if he were to flick his tongue over your breasts. If your eyes would roll back, were he to plunge his fingers deep into your core.

So many ifs he wants to put to the test.

He gently skims where your thigh meets your hip, and Simon swears he hears you gulp. He can tell you’re absolutely blindsided. You've been living with him as your flatmate for four years. Four fucking years, and if he ever tried to give you anything more than his usual snark, he might have been a little too subtle about it.

Simon glances at you, before returning his focus to the telly. One look is all he needs to hear your thoughts as if they were his own – the self-deprecation, the anxiety, that tormenting feeling of not being enough.

How torn you look. Stiff fingers curl around air only to release it right afterwards, fighting an invisible enemy. Let him do what he wants, let his hand slide up your shorts, and find the cotton lace of your panties. Or, pull away and retreat into your safe bubble, where no one can hurt you.

As if he’d ever lay an ill hand on you. All you have to say is “Stop” and he’ll take back his arm – cut it off for good measure.

Your eyes are hooded as they turn to look back at the malleable flesh of your thigh in his hold. His fingers disappear under your shorts until the first knuckle. He brushes along the hem of nice lace undies, feeling the rough fabric under the pads of his fingers.

Your voice is deliciously breathy. "Wha' about work, then?"

Avoidance. Normally, he'd let you. If it were any other situation, he'd brush it off with you. He'd keep up with the chat, coddling you in that safe place you seem too keen on spending time in.

Not now.

His head turns back to you; hungry eyes fixed on the way your mouth parts to yield that soft whisper. It makes his eye twitch, a splinter in his veneer.

“Reckon work can wait,” he rasps.

Simon is hyper-aware of how close he is to your core – a knuckle away from the throbbing heat between your legs. He sees your bowed head, eyes lidded with that primal desire he is instilling in you.

You look as if your brain has turned into soup; the ingredients a mix of shared memories and touches – even the most indifferent, neutral ones. To his utter joy, for the first time in your life, it almost looks like you’ve finally turned off your thoughts.

Your jaw clenches in a desperate attempt to get a grip on yourself. He knows you’re confused; he is too. Because it’s wrong to indulge in intimacy when more than just a friendship is at stake. Money's involved, a roof over your heads, a bed to kip, and food in your bellies – four years of shared everything is involved.

But you agree. You nod your head a little dumbly, and suddenly work can wait. To Simon, the fucking world can.

Your voice is a mumble. "Yeah, guess it can."

“Mhm.”

His gaze flicks up to your eyes, depriving your lips of the attention they were given, and he is delighted to see that you’re just as affected as he is.

Simon's fingers get squished between your thighs when you clench them together. He squeezes, feeling how the flesh rolls between his fingers, how it folds where the stretch marks crinkle.

“Lift your leg up for me,” he rasps.

Breath is stuck in your throat in utter anticipation. Simon knows it's been a long time since you've been touched in any way, shape, or form. You could've gone out and found a man willing to have a shag, it wouldn't have been hard to find someone who needed it too – someone as desperate as you look right now.

After all, that single word is the one that led him to you in the first place.

Yet you never did it. Simon has never seen you bring a man, or a woman, back to the flat. Sometimes you’d disappear with a text, saying you’d be sleeping out, but you never brought anyone home. And he never asked why – mostly, because he thought it wasn’t his business. Another part of him, however, was afraid that if he did, you’d take it as an invitation to do so. Obviously, he wasn’t too keen on the idea.

After giving it little thought, you part your thighs for him. One still rests in his lap while the other dangles off the sofa.

There's very little resolve left in you, Simon can tell by the way your eyes are so focused on his disappearing hand, and by the way you shatter when he experimentally glides one finger over the damp line on your panties.

“Fuck.” You hiss, tilting your head back.

You must want him dead, he thinks, as he gawks at the way your throat curves.

“Christ.” He mutters under his breath. He pushes the pad of his thumb down the cotton, feeling how it sticks to your slit. “Barely touched you.”

He wants to take his sweet time. He does. Wants to take it slow, reduce you to a mess of please and more before he finally gives you what you want. But he’s just as desperate as you are, isn’t he? He’s craving, clawing at the walls, to feel you clamp around him. Feel you drip down his hand until his callouses are coated, slick flowing down the crevices of his palm.

He’s no better than you are, currently.

So, his fingers slip under your panties just enough to touch your folds.

You can't help but tilt your head forwards again, only to look down at the bulge under your shorts created by his hand.

But when your eyes flit back to his, he stops.

Maybe he’s gone too far, he thinks. Maybe you’re realizing this is one hell of a mistake that can only end with you going your separate ways, something he will never forgive himself for.

However, it’s then, that you nod. That worry line between your brows, ever-present, seems gone. Smooth skin between your beautiful, beautiful eyes. And Simon feels whole again, feels wanted. The battered hound dog that he is, only useful for one thing and one thing only – sowing the seeds of death, and reaping them afterwards – is wanted.

Not tolerated. Not required. Wanted. Needed.

He knows your brain is turning its cogs, fighting against the fog of a kind of hunger that can’t be extinguished, one that only wants to be sated – by him, and him only.

Why is he doing this. 

What does it mean.

Is it because of the date you should have the next Friday. 

Is it because he's frustrated at work and you’re simply there, lying on a silver platter.

So many fucking questions it irritates him that, somehow, while his middle finger is tracing lazy patterns to part your folds, you’re still thinking. 

He doesn’t allow a single one to leave your lips, because he plunges one finger inside your cunt.

His first if is answered, then. Your eyes don’t roll back like he’d expected.

Your brows flutter to your forehead, and your mouth parts to form a pretty oval. Your chest swells as if you've just taken the first breath in your entire life. Your eyes, hazy and blurred, hold his own. And somehow, that is the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

Your leg on his lap is taut and stiff, toes curling under those loud socks you’re wearing.

Simon takes in the sight of you – all flushed and panting. The only sound in the air is the quiet drone of the telly in the background and your sharp inhales.

He can only describe himself in that moment as wrecked. Maybe even more so than you are right now, all rigid in anticipation of his first movements.

“Keep your eyes on me," he growls out, and when you nod, he curls his pad inside of you.

Your fingers seem to mimic his own, but they grip the edge of the sofa’s cushions instead. Your nails scratch at the leather with such voracity they leave beige lines against the dark brown.

He struggles against the double layer of fabric entrapping his hand to your cunt – the lace scratches the knuckle on his thumb, the cotton of your shorts is a manacle on his wrist. But fuck if he cares about all that when your hips twitch to encourage his movements.

You look ruined. And he loves that – the effect he has on you, the fact that he’s the one to have you like this.

He moves his finger in slow, long strokes. He doesn’t do it to torture you, no. He observes, because for once his constant vigilance is not only useful to quell his paranoia, but also to feed your desires. He tests movements, tries different spots, looking for that one within your walls that will make you scream. 

And he finds it, then – to his utmost delight. Here you are: your breathy moans, soft and honeyed, turn into a stuttering and almost pained "Oh." And he knows he has you under his thumb, all perfect and yearning, unraveling with just one of his fingers. He’s looking straight at your face, not wanting to miss a single twitch of an eyebrow. Your pretty lips are all slick with your spit and they part to release the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard.

His strokes intensify, drawing back as much as he can with the limited movements he has, only to push in and hit ever so slightly that rougher patch of nerves he’s located. He doesn’t want to make you squirm, but he has something tickling his brain – questions. Or better, one question.

He places his thumb over your pearl, unsheathing it from the fleshy hood with a glide. He drinks the way it makes your breath hitch and stutter in sudden hypersensitivity. He rolls his pad tentatively, only to see you grit your teeth and groan – muscles and sinews all tensed up in your neck. It's like molten lava in your belly. It's syrupy hot and gushes out of you in long, sticky droplets that pool on his finger, down to the knuckle.

“D’you think you’ll need to go on that date on Friday?” he rasps and rolls his thumb again.

His question doesn't seem to make you falter; your hips are unrelenting in their chase for release, as you push against his hand, grinding like your life depends on it. However, he can tell that it irked you. That blissed-out look pinches in frustration.

You're breathless, on a feverish hunt for that taste of heaven his finger’s promising, and Simon has the gall to bring up another man? One he's been mocking for the past half hour? He's surprised by himself as well.

You whine. "Does this look like the bloody time?"

“No,” he concedes, sounding a little patronizing.

He has the upper hand, quite literally, and to give you a friendly reminder of the power he holds, he slides another finger in.

You're absolute putty in his hands now. Your fingers grip at the sofa, your cheeks all flushed and warm. Your back arches, and he knows he just gave you that fullness you've been chasing. The sensation that causes the right amount of pleasure and pain of the stretch. He’s knuckle deep inside of you, his fingers trapped by your velvety walls as he strokes harder, lingering a little longer where you like it, but not faster. He keeps that steady pace that takes your breath away, not forgetting to lavish your clit with attention, and leaves you with just enough air for you to free those clipped and breathless moans.

He’s shameless as his other hand clamps your shin on his lap and pushes it down onto the painful tent on his jeans. He shifts his hip upwards to grind against your calf and hisses when it causes the zipper to graze his cock.

“Gonna cancel it, then?”

It’s bliss. You look like an angel.

"Yeah," you breathe out, a little incoherent. "Cancel it, 'course."

Your voice is more of an unintelligible mumble than anything else – two fingers in and his thumb on your nub drawing idle circles. Perfect pressure. Perfect fit.

He’s never seen you look this beautiful, all abandoned and relaxed, with your big brain he loves so much shut off completely. Synapses only working to generate a wish for release, so sweet and simple, and nothing else. And who is he to deny such a plain request, you sweet thing.

Simon would give you the moon if you asked.

He’s powerless in your presence, undecided if to focus on your face, or to stare at your hardened nipples. They brush against the black training t-shirt he once owned – right below the two crossing swords painted under the royal crown. It should be blasphemous. Should be bloody illegal to sully the name of the monarchy that way.

That is, if he gave a fuck about it. And even if he did, he’d see no wrong in it – because what can you taint when you’re the purest thing he’s ever touched.

Your hips move in tandem with his fingers, your face scrunched in that desperate look of someone who has a piece of heaven just out of reach. He watches you as you fall apart under his fingers and keeps your leg down so he can grind against it. If the situation were different, he’d feel like a wild animal in that regard, but there isn’t a spot on you he doesn’t wish to worship.

Especially now, when you look like this. With your hair sticking to your forehead and loose locks escaping your low bun.

He can’t take his eyes away from you – you have him absolutely entranced.

“s too much.” He hears you whine amongst the mist in his brain

“It ain’t.” He manages to grunt as if it's an order.

And you’re a little insubordinate, because you try and squirm away. But your shorts are his shackles as much as they’re yours – they fasten his hand to your cunt, while locking you against his unwavering fingers.

“Simon,” your voice is so wrecked when you beg. “Please - fuck.”

And how he finds the strength to snark is beyond him. His voice is thick and heavy. “’m tryin’.”

He drags his fingers deep down where yours can’t reach, where he’s found that patch of nerves that reduces you into a puddle of yourself. His thumb on your clit is steadfast, rubbing just above the hood where you’re not as sensitive, only to drag down again and make you see stars.

And the way that string of “Yes” leaves your lips, in that euphoric wheeze that tugs at the corners of your lips, makes his cock ache to be anywhere but in the confines of his jeans.

Your eyes are all glossy when you prop yourself on your elbows to fuel his resolve. Petal lips red and shiny, catching your teeth in an attempt to muffle your moans – bone-deep ingrained insecurity you can’t seem to get rid of. He doesn’t force you, though – he wants to hear you, sure, but most of all he wants to see you crumble to shreds. And if hiding your voice is what you need, then feel free to be his bloody guest.

Your hips stutter and your belly ripples under his large tee draped over it, and he’d recognize those signs anywhere. 

“Cum f’ me,” he orders. “C’mon, love. Give it to me.”

It takes a few more pumps of his fingers, and Simon feels it before he sees it. You clench around his fingers in rippling waves, thrumming rhythmically. Your cunt deliciously threatens to cut them off just above the knuckle.

And fuck, aren’t you a goddamn sight. 

Simon thinks it's almost cathartic to simply watch you. How your head tilts back to hit the armrest of the sofa, the way your toes curl in his lap and your foot on the floor rigidly lifts. The sway of your hips as they undulate to meet his thrusts and the liberating groan that leaves your lips, touching the sky with your fingers.

He unconsciously guides you through it, but truthfully, he has absolutely no idea what to do with himself – not with you looking straight out of one of his most unhinged dreams. His fingers slow down but keep moving relentlessly.

However, it would be a lie for him to say he knows what he’s doing.

You come down from it and your eyes are blinky and unfocused, staring at the ceiling. Your body deflates on the couch, limp and sated. Syrupy and warm. With your chest free to move now that the heavy weight on it has finally been lifted. He allows you this moment of privacy as you recollect yourself, although he truly wants you to look back at him again. He doesn’t want to miss a beat of this, yet he sort of understands.

Your breath comes out in puffs. He’s not faring any better on that note.

"Simon," you breathe, his name exquisite from your lips. "Christ."

He’s gawking. Watching your face for a moment more, he meets your eyes as they flick back to him down the slope of your nose.

Thumb still on your clit, the movements are gentler and featherlight. His voice is hoarse and rough as he speaks. “Alrigh’?”

You chuckle, breathless and a little nervous now that the appetite has been sated – much more self-aware than before.

His fingers are still inside of you and you’re already overthinking this. He knows it. He just hopes, deep down, that you’re not regretting it – because he sure as hell isn’t.

"Peachy.” Is your reply.

Oh, how the tables have turned. Joke’s on him, he’s fed you enough sarcasm for you to start throwing it back at him. Simon feels too weak to even smirk. However, his eyes do narrow, in a similar manner to how yours would at his snarky comebacks.

He gently slides his fingers out of you, mindful of your current sensitivity. He brings the hand up, seeing the gleam of your slick shamelessly coating their lengths down to the knuckles.

“Fuckin’ look at that.” He murmurs, unable to discern whether he’s talking to you or to himself, “Messy girl.”

He thumbs his middle finger and rolls the juice between the pads, thinking; tongue out to lick his lips like the voracious beast he is.

Simon reaches over and brings his hand towards your mouth. A jerky nod of his jaw, “Open.”

He knows he’s already crossed a line the two of you never even dared to toe before. And if he’s going to lose you after this, if you’re going to turn your back on him and leave the flat (leave his life) then he’s going to make the most of it.

Your brows are pinched in sudden uncertainty. A contradicting spectacle, if mixed with the way your chest is still heaving and how your cunt is still wet.

But tonight, you seem eager to catch him off guard, because you oblige. Your lips part and you offer your tongue, never breaking eye contact.

Each time he thinks you can’t look more beautiful you prove him fucking wrong.

He hums lowly in approval, and there’s something dark in that sound. He gently runs his fingers across your tongue, coating it with your taste. Fingertips slide and follow its curve. He stares at you with such an intensity, like he could consume you if he had a mind to. You devour him first, wrapping your lips around his knuckles.

When your tongue delves around his fore and middle fingers, he has to close his eyes. He has to roll his head, releasing the tension in his jaw. He has to, or he’ll cum in his goddamn jeans. The sharp inhale he takes almost burns his nostrils; his sigh heavy and anguished when his lips surrender to it.

“How d’you taste, dove?” he asks, blinking his eyes open.

The way his voice rasps out that pet name, rough like sandpaper, makes a shiver run down your neck. He sees it, the tremor of your shoulders, the goosebumps on your arms.

Simon reluctantly pulls his fingers away only so you can answer. His wasn’t a rhetorical question, and by that blush on your cheeks and the embarrassed hint of a smile on your face, you’ve guessed it already.

"Not as sweet as I thought."

His lips twitch.

“No?” he asks, his voice much too broken for his liking. He brings those same fingers to his mouth and sucks, tasting your spit and your cum. A low rumble of a chuckle escapes him – must be a blue moon tonight. “I think you taste pretty sweet.”

This can go two ways: a fairy tale ending, like those romcoms you like to watch, or an absolutely dreadful one – in which you leave. And truly, Simon doesn’t believe in a higher power; God has abandoned him more times than he cares to count. However, he hopes that whoever’s up there realizes that he's owed big time for all the crap he’s been put through.

And he asks for nothing, but you.

His face is hot, and he gathers his cheeks might be a little pink. The rare sight must give you some comfort, the fact that he’s just as overwhelmed as you are, because he feels your leg relax in his lap.

You purse your lips to hide a bashful smile - as if you have any right to be coy right now. "Flatterer."

He hums, seemingly wanting to bite back at you but unable to find the spirit for it. His eyes rake over your body, from your flushed face to your chest covered by his tee, until they land on your quivering thighs, still splayed open for him.

For him.

His hand travels up your leg, following the same route that has led to this. When his palm finally cups your hip, his fingers curl at the waistband of your shorts and tug.

“C’mere.”

You do.

He sees you bend your knees and shift on the sofa so you can crawl to him on shaky legs. As the gentleman he never thought he’d be, he helps you swing your thigh over his own and deposits you in his lap with your knees on either side of his hips.

Afraid you might say something hinting at regret, he selfishly grabs your jaw and pulls you down, finally tasting you the way he’s always wanted. His lips mold with yours, and they’re so soft he has no business claiming them as his own. His fingers tilt your head so he can deepen the kiss, and only when he sees your eyes flutter closed through the slit of his eyelids, he allows himself to surrender to you.

Your lips peck the thin scar on his cupid’s bow, but before you can run away from him (as you should), he captures you once more. He never wants to let you go, so his tongue slides across the seam of your mouth, and you, so pliantly, oblige him.

Your hands are resting on his shoulders when the kiss starts tentatively, while his slender fingers follow the curve of your waist.

But then your nails dig at the fabric of his t-shirt, as if eager to rip it, and his palms journey to your rear. He grips at the flesh through your shorts, before shoving out of the way their distressed hem and directly groping the plump meat of your ass.

The two of you never part. If anything, everything gets more heated.

He doesn’t recall when it is exactly that you start grinding your hips, nor does he remember when his shirt was removed – whether you did it, or if he’s taken the matter into his own hands.

However, he does snap out of it when he feels your palms leave his shoulders to grasp at the hem of your tee. While he wants to feel his skin on yours as much as you do, what’s separating your chest from his is not a mere layer of cotton.

He pulls away and – to his pleasure – he sees you lean in to have more. His hand lands on yours, stopping you.

“No.”

He sees you blink, dazed. A myriad of emotions travel through that pinched expression you wear, thinking like usual that you’ve done something wrong.

He quells your fears in seconds, when his other palm skims over your arm. It journeys unhurriedly, leaving gooseflesh in its wake, until it lands at the base of your throat. His thumb brushes over its column, forcing your neck to tilt backwards and your back to arch, presenting your chest.

Simon models you like clay under his warm fingers, and he takes his time to drink you in and sculpt you as he wishes. Because you seem so docile now that his intents are less covert, clearer.

He brings his mouth to your throat, and his nose scrunches when he presses it against your neck, keeping you still with one thick arm around your waist. With sluggish movements, he tastes the salt of your skin and the tang left by your perfume.

Simon pulls back only to run his tongue from the hollow between your collarbones up to your jaw, feeling right under the muscle how your throat bobs when your breath lodges in between. He curves his head and digs his teeth into the plumper flesh on the side of your neck, enough to get a taste but not enough (never enough) to cause pain.

“Keep the shirt on.” He breathes against your skin, “I wanna fuck my name into you.”

And he does just that.

It’s effortless how he lifts you in his arms, guiding your ankles to lock at his tailbone. Clothes, both yours and his, freckle the floors in a trail that leads to his bedroom. He’s famished; there isn’t a single surface along the path he follows where he hasn’t placed you – if only to savor every piece of you for a little longer.

Until he has you on that bed, the one he should’ve gotten only for a few weeks and instead became his own alcove.

You look wonderful on it.

But you’re even more gorgeous when he sits at the edge of the mattress, facing the full-length mirror in his room, and places you on his thighs to straddle his lap – your back facing the reflection.

He runs his hands over your chest, riding up the t-shirt to your neck only so he can feast on your tits. Grabbing greedy handfuls of fat and muttering unintelligible praises when his mouth all but devours every inch – sucking on your puffy nipples and grazing his teeth around each peak.

Another if is answered by the whimper that escapes your kiss-bitten lips.

You look like an angel, when your soft hand goes to grab the base of his cock and, without much ceremony, you guide it inside of you – sinking on it easy and slow.

You feel like heaven, too, impaled on him. Perfect fit, always made for him, and him only.

Simon’s not sure what he did to deserve you, now riding his cock like you’d been deprived of it your whole life. Unbridled, free. You moan and groan without a care in the world, the hesitation he saw before vanished into thin air – and oh, he couldn’t be more grateful for it.

His hands curl at the hem of your (his, his, his) shirt, lifting it up slightly at your waist, only so he can see in the reflection how your ass slaps against his thighs each time you drop. Or, how your glutes clench when instead of trying to pleasure him, you please yourself – rolling your hips to grind your clit against his happy trail.

Simon’s hands leave the shirt only to grab more of you, kneading at your hips to guide your cunt down his cock until he has you filled to the brim. Your eyes roll back, breath stuck in that pretty throat of yours. He bites at it - laps at the skin like a starved dog.

Simon shattered his chains the moment you came undone on his fingers, and now he knows no restraint – not when he has you like this.

“Look at you,” he growls, slapping your ass only to watch how the fat ripples in recoil in your mirror image.

He grabs the back of your neck and tilts your head downwards. Your foreheads touch as he guides your eyes to look at where your bodies join. The foamy ring at the base of his cock, how the folds of your vulva hug around his shaft and tip at your unhooded clit, all puffy and red.

He tugs at your mound with his thumb, stretching the flesh to expose more. With a deliberate roll of his hips, he makes a show of how effortlessly his cock slides into you, how your cunt greedily stretches to welcome him whole. 

“Look at that.” His voice is equally as raspy as it’s enraptured. “Perfect.”

Using his hand on your nape, he angles your face to kiss you again. He thrusts into you only to have you part your lips in a stuttering moan, and he drinks it dry.

When you resume grinding your hips, he whispers in your open mouth, “Fuckin’ perfect.”

Simon sees how your thighs quiver under the strain of the effort, hamstrings taut and probably burning in the attempt to wrap around his hips. He won’t keep you like that for long, don’t worry. He’ll take good care of you, like he always has.

But now, he indulges in a selfish moment.

Spare seconds in which he watches your reflection bounce on him, and you’re too lost in the feeling to notice how his hooded eyes take in the view.

The profile of your face in the mirror (his little cherub), with your mouth parted and brushing against his temple as he nuzzles your shoulder through the fabric of the shirt. One hand ecloses his nape and your other palm is on his cheek, keeping his head close to your breathless lips. Your eyes are closed in bliss – lashes shy against your flushed cheekbones.

In the scantly lit room, the reflection in the mirror of you two is as dark as everything else, but the stark white writing on the back of your tee has never looked brighter. Your hair sways with your movements, and that RILEY that peeks through your locks has him impossibly enamored of you.

And you’re so smart, he thinks. So clever, because you know, even when your senses are clouded by euphoria and your eyes are closed. You know he’s never had a thing. You know that whatever he’s held, no matter for how long, has always slipped through his fingers before he could even get a taste of it.

“I’m yours,” you whisper in his ear.

And so, Simon surrenders. He’s at your mercy, you have his trust and whatever’s left of his heart – and he knows you won’t break either.

He helps you out of his t-shirt only to hold you bare against his chest. He brings you down with him, lavishes your skin with his palms and his lips. Nose buried in your hair, Simon breathes you in. The smell of sex and the smell of you and how it has him drunk when it whirlpools with his own – a new fragrance, one that burns itself into his brain with the threat (sweet promise) of never letting go.

Because he’s never had a thing, his name barely pertains to him anymore. But the moment he saw it on you, he finally realized where Simon Riley belongs.

[leehoney0]

OK?

Female reader . suggestive . Bimbo in the apocalypse!

Bimbo reader! Having to be dragged away from a store as she stares down a mannequin for a skirt you’ve been eyeing since before the end of the world,rick having to talk you out of it.There was no way you could take down all those walkers that invaded the store.

Bimbo reader! Going on runs with rick to help him out since everyone was so busy,rick knows you only come with him so you can look through peoples abandoned closets and you get some alone time with your favorite dilf!

Bimbo reader! Who is only allowed to wear her bright pink clothes when there at base!,rick would never risk you getting hurt so he makes sure he gives you a yes on your outfit before heading out.

Bimbo reader! Crying as you ruined one of your shirts with walker guts,Rick holding you as you cry into his chest.him having to explain to you that you should of left your good clothes at home.

Bimbo reader! always listening to ricks commands if he feels it’s too dangerous,he send you off to hide until he calls your name to come out from your hiding spot,running into his arms to make sure he’s alright.

Bimbo reader! and Rick having a code word,it being the name of your favorite brand,him and you using it since you came across the wrong guy once and he never wants that to happen again!

Bimbo reader! meeting the new recruits,not noticing how they all seem to be staring at your chest,whispering among themself if you had a boyfriend and who would get a chance with the dumb klutz who’s clothes didn’t wear appropriate clothes for an apocalypse!

Bimbo reader! who makes her cell all pink,choosing one in the corner to have more privacy,lucky you didn’t have to share.ricks rooms was next to yours,although he likes yours better.you always found nice pillows on your runs.

Bimbo reader! giving kisses to everyone she likes,thanking them by a peck on their cheek,Daryl who brings you back something knowing your gonna give him one of your peck.. Rick glaring at the interactions.

Bimbo reader! Glaring at anyone who stares at Rick,not Knowing he wouldn’t give them the light of day as he overheard them gossiping,how it wasn’t right the way you dressed,Rick keeping you close to him that night showing you off proudly!

Bimbo reader! Who Wouldn’t stop crying when they all got separated after the prison getting stuck with Maggie,your cheeks always stained with tears not knowing where Rick was or if he was even alive.

Bimbo reader! Not being able to function without Rick,he was always there to protect you.everyone wondered how you were able to survive this long,reuniting with Rick was the happiest you had ever been.

Bimbo reader! when entering Alexandria had a lot of the guys asking for your time,you had been so busy looking for Rick that you had brushed them off without even knowing what they were asking.staring at your behind of you ran off to find Rick

Bimbo reader! Not really having a job around Alexandria,they tried to find you something to do but you just couldn’t grasp much,so they just made you water the plants and crops since that was the easiest thing around.

Bimbo reader! Not liking any of the clothes they offered when you first arrived begging Rick or Daryl to take you to the nearest abandoned homes or shops go find something more appealing.more PINK

Why can’t I just be a girl without someone telling me it goes back to the patriarchy… IKNOW let me live jeez I know!!!! Anyways enjoy inst the best but havent been writing good these past few times

[janananarei]

A Dad and His Son

Dad! Toji x Mom! Reader

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Genre: Fluff

Contains: SFW, slight angst, Toji trying his hardest, Megumi is your son, mild swearing.

Synopsis: Toji is trying his best to be a good dad. Megumi just wants him to be there.

word count: 2k

a/n: let's take a break from the angst and enjoy some fluff

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"Mom, can we get this one?"

Megumi calls you over as you scan over other toys. Walking over to him, you see him pointing to a remote controlled toy car that was at least half his size. You smile at him and look at the price, your eyes almost fell out as you saw how expensive it was. Megumi continues to look at it in awe and you don't have the heart to break to tell him that you can't afford it.

As you were stuck with this dilemma, Toji arrived planning to do it for you. "Sorry kid, maybe next time." He said as he ruffled Megumi's black spikey hair. Megumi pouted and crossed his arms, "Let's go find another toy, yeah?" You console. Reaching your hand out to hold hands with Megumi once more, you three leave the toy car as you go to search out for other, more affordable, toys.

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The car comes to a stop infront of Megumi's school. "Alright, we're here. Have fun today sweetie." You say, grabbing Megumi's face to peck his cheek. Megumi pulls away, about to grab the door handle, until he pauses and looks back at you. "Mom, can dad pick me up today?" Megumi asked with his eyes gleaming. You looked surprised by his request, not being used to Megumi wanting his dad. Toji is not home most of the time, leading Megumi to depend on you more. He goes to you whenever he needs something, so it's quite a surprise to see him turning to his dad now. You smile at Megumi, thinking that this is a way of bonding with his dad, "Sure honey. I'll ask your dad once I get home."

You see Megumi's eyes light up from the hopeful chance of bonding with his dad. "Thanks mom, I'll see you later!" Megumi replies, excitedly grabing his backpack and opens the car door ready to face school. He looks back at you and gives one last wave before he left off.

Shutting the front door, you called out for Toji hoping that he hasn't left yet. You hear groans as you look up the stairs to see a newly awakened Toji with his evident bed hair. "It's too early in the morning for you to shout my name." He groans as he stretches his arms. You walk over to him with gleam, and give him a kiss as a good morning. "I have great news! Megumi wants you to pick him up from school and hangout with him!" You announce excitedly, wanting to see your two boys bond together. Toji looked at you surprised but then switched to a guilty look, his eyebrows furrowing as he scratched the back of his head. You understand the look on his face, "You won't be able to do it." You sigh as you look at him disappointedly.

"S'rry sweets, I've been called in for another request from a client. I can't refuse this one." Toji admittedly said, not daring to look at your face. You sigh once more, just imagining how disappointed Megumi would be after his dad didn't show up. You were really hoping that Toji would've taken this as the chance to break the wall between him and his son, yet his job has once again ruined it.

The school bell rings announcing the end of the school day. Megumi exits the building, tugging his shirt down as he excitedly looks around for his car. A familiar family sized car pulls up infront of the school, and Megumi tightens his hold on his backpack as he hastens his walk. His eyes glimmering, finding it difficult to contain his excitement. Once he pulls open the car door, he gets ready to greet his dad but was stunned silent once he saw his mom instead.

You smile at him softly, about to ask how school was but was cut off, "Where's dad?" He asked. His mood deflated, the excitement now replaced with disappointment as he once realizes that his dad wasn't here. You feel your heart breaking when you see the sadness in his eyes while he quietly settles inside the car.

"I'm sorry sweetie, your dad got caught up with work again." You say softly while you start to drive. "Of course, just like always." Megumi whispered to himself, looking out the window watching his classmates getting picked up by their dads. You look at your son's figure through the rear view mirror, seeing how deflated he looked. "You wanna buy ice cream? There's a store near by" you suggest, wanting to cheer up your son. Megumi only nodded as he continues to look outside.

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The front door slams open, catching your attention from the kitchen. You can hear a bag dropping and small footsteps make its way to you. Megumi's home from another day of school, riding the school bus this time. He makes his way to the kitchen, carrying a plastic container. "How was school today?" You say, wiping your hands after washing them. "It was good. We learned how to bake cookies today, so I made extras for you and dad." He shows you the container filled with chocolate chip cookies. You smile, touched from his consideration, "How wonderful! It smells really good, go put it on the table and we'll try it together." Megumi quickly goes to the kitchen counter and climbs one of the chairs. Once he opens the lid of the container, you take a bite of a cookie. Megumi waits in anticipation as he hold his hands together continuing to stare at you waiting for your thoughts. You look at him with a grin and finish the whole cookie infront of him, "Amazing! This is the best cookie I have ever tasted! It's like tasting heaven, oh how I wish I could just eat all of this right now. You did so well Megumi!" You say as you grab another cookie and gobble it up. Megumi gives a small laugh as his ears turn red from your praise.

While you two continue to eat the cookies, the front door slams open once more. A groaning could be heard, and heavy footsteps walk on the house. You see Toji pass by the kitchen, with his body slumped, clearly exhausted from his work. He doesn't turn to greet or acknowledge you at all, and instead went straight upstairs to the bathroom. The bathroom door closes, and you see Megumi's once happy face drain to one of sadness. His father not coming in to taste his hard work, nor to even look at him. With his mood now soured, he excuses himself and walks to his room.

The bathroom door opens and Toji comes out looking more refreshed after washing his face. He looks at the side and stumbles back out of surprise that you were there waiting for him. "Oh um, do you need to use the bathroom?" He says, unsure what to say to you as you continue to look at him with your arms crossed.

"There's cookies on the counter. You should try them, Megumi made them just for you."

"Oh sure, I'll try them later."

You sigh, pinching your nose, and you look at him with seriousness. "Toji, we need to talk. What's happening to you, you've been busy the past few weeks. You don't usually work this much." You see his eyebrows furrow as water drops from his head. "It's nothin, I just need the extra cash." He said while he starts to walk to the bedroom. "Is that seriously it? For extra cash? You'd rather go for the extra cash than be there for your son?" You said with slight irritation as you follow him. "I just need it right now okay? I promise I'll stop doing this shit soon." Toji said, opening the door to the room. You feel your irritation rising but you calm yourself down, turning this into a shouting fest would get you both nowhere. "Toji, your son really misses you. You've barely been there for him. You missed out on his soccer practice last week. You came late to one of his performances. Please Toji, just be there for him, your son needs you." You stop by the door, looking at his back. Silence fills the room, and only your breathing could be heard.

"I will, just trust me on this okay? I care about him just as much as you do. So just trust me and I'll fix the shit that I did." Toji softly said, his head turn to look at you. The man known to be as harsh and strong as a boulder, now looks at you with soft eyes.

"Okay, I trust you."

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The car door opens as Toji enters and settles in the passenger seat. Shiu, who was waiting for him, looked at him and threw his cigarette away. "Aight, I'm done with the job. Let's go." Toji grumbles, making himself comfortable after that messy and gory scene that he made.

"Huh, you and your lazy ass don't usually take side requests, especially if the pay isn't up to your standards. What changed your mind? Are you that desperate to gamble?" Shiu asked, interested to know his motives. Toji looked at him bored "None of your business. Oh by the way, you can drop me off by the store nearby."

"You mean the toy store just around the street? What're you? A kid trying to buy a toy his mom said he couldn't have?"

"Just shut up and drop me off there."

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾ ༻✧༺ ≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

The morning sun rises, the sunlight hitting Megumi's face as he slowly wakes up from a good sleep. It's Saturday, which means no school, which also means he can play videogames the whole day. He stretches his arms while yawning, feeling his tummy grumble, he moves off his bed to go downstairs. He hears music coming from the radio, and movement from the kitchen. He enters, expecting to see his mom but was met with surprise to see his dad instead. Toji places down a plate that has a stack of pancakes drizzled with maple syrup.

"Good mornin kid, made your breakfast. Go sit and eat." Toji said as Megumi is still in shock. He goes to sit on a chair, and picks up the fork to eat. "I got a surprise for you kiddo. So eat up fast." Toji said with a small smile. Megumi nods, and starts eating the pancake, making sure to savor it because it's a rare opportunity to see his dad making breakfast for him.

"Ohh, well would you look at that. Someone's in a good mood today." Megumi hears your voice from up the stairs. You have just woken up from your sleep, and found the other side of the bed empty. You hear commotion coming from downstairs so you came to check it out. And the sight has truly come as a surprise to you, a good one. You come down the stairs and kiss Megumi's forehead first before you kiss your husband, greeting them both a good morning.

"What? Can't make breakfast for my family now?" Toji said with a smirk as he returns the kiss to you. "Oh well, it sure is a rare sight to see my usually grumpy husband in a good mood." You say as you take a seat beside Megumi, with Toji serving your breakfast to you. Megumi puts his fork down, his plate clean looking like it was just washed.

"I'm done" he mumbles, looking at his dad. "Alright, follow me kiddo." Toji said, passing by him but not before ruffling his hair. Megumi face visibly shows awe after his dad's touch, and he quickly gets off his chair to follow him.

In the living room, Toji tells him to sit on the floor as he pulls up a gift. "But it isn't my birthday?" Megumi said confusedly, questioning why his dad is giving him a gift. "I know. This is just a gift for you, for doing well in school." Toji said, putting the box right infront of his son.

Megumi reaches out his arms and slowly rips out the wrapping paper. His eyes, once filled with uncertainty, now replaced with joy. His smile widening as he pulls out the toy car that he had been wanting. He looks at his dad, who was smiling, and suddenly jumps onto him to give him a hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!"

Toji huffs with a smile, and wraps his arms around his son to return the hug. You stood by the entryway, your face showing a smile as you watch your two boys. Your heart feels like melting from the sight, as Megumi picks up the toy car to admire it.

"It's not set up yet, we gotta put the batteries in." Toji takes out a pack of batteries, and Megumi sets the toy down for his dad to complete it. Once he successfully insert the batteries, Megumi grabs the controller and tests out his new toy. You come in to join them as you hug Toji from behind.

"You good?" Toji asked, you look at your son enjoying his new toy "More than that. I'm so happy. Thank you Toji." You softly said as you take in his warmth. Toji smiles and holds you close, you two enjoying each other's presence as you both watch your son.

[starboye]

pairing: jensen ackles x male reader

request: Could i request a Jensen Ackles x Male Reader; Where the reader is the personal assistant of Jensen, and for the past few weeks, Jensen has been more angry and gets pissed off easily. When reader overhears Jensen talking about maybe finding a new assistant, he realizes that his job is at stake and doesn't want to be away from his crush, so he decides to please Jensen in anyway possible. For weeks reader works overtime to do anything for Jensen, without any change, but one night, while picking up a half-drunk Jensen, he gets to know that Jensen is going through a divorce and needs someone to meet his bedroom needs. Reader jumps at the opportunity, and "sacrifices" himself to be Jensens personal whore.

warnings: SMUT, rough sex, degradtion, face slapping, cum denial, choking if you squint, kinda cheating, breeding, unprotected sex, daddy kink, pet names, bondage if you kinda look really hard, and something else

words: 1.9k

working for mr.ackles was no easy task, between his random rage outbursts, the overwhelming work, and the back aching overtime you were doing for him it was all to much but you stuck through the job if it meant that you got to see that fine ass man every day, you'd do anything for him, waiting hands and knees for his every order like a good boy.

if we're being real sometimes you'd stay up at night fucking yourself with a dildo imagining it was jensen fucking you with his thick cock as you moaned out his name but every morning you woke up to the same reality, and it was even more nerve racking when you over heard mr.ackles talking about firing you because you had been slacking off.

so the only logical thing you could do is start working overtime hoping that would be enough, night after night you stayed after hours helping him do work and try to take some of the stress off him but that was barely working so you had to find another way to keep your job and the lord must have heard your prayers.

the night you were working and getting stuff organized for mr.ackle you got a call from the local bar saying jensen said to call you since he got to drunk to drive home, you immediately hopped in your car and drove to the bar hoping he was okay, you pull up to the bar to see jensen sitting on the curb.

"mr.ackles are you okay" you ask lifting him up "yeah im... im fine" he slurs his words a bit due to the alcohol but you nonetheless get him in the car and soon begin driving "why didn't you call your wife sir" you question glancing at him to make sure he's okay "fuck that bitch" he curses "what do you mean" you ask with eyebrows furrowed "we're going through a tough situation right now it's nothing" he says.

you wanted to be civil about it but on the inside you were dancing with joy that that bitch- i mean his wife wasn't doing so well in the relationship "and i haven't been able to get off in weeks" jensen admits in his drunken state not even realizing what he said which gives you an idea.

"well if you ever need anything i'm here for you" you softly say moving your hand to rub jensens thigh, you see a slight tent rise in his pants "mmm y/n" jensen strains, feeling your hand rub on his thigh is the most contact he's gotten from someone in weeks "yes mr.ackles" you innocently say as if you didn't plan this all in a matter of seconds "fuck" jensen mutters under his breath trying to resist the urges too have your hand wrapped around his dick.

"oh my god are you okay mr.ackles" you ask faking any concern and pulling the car over to the curb before turning attention to him "will you..." he says but is to embarrassed to get the words out so he just moves your hand closer to the tent in his pants "oh no mr.ackles i couldn't do that" you keep up your innocent facade to reel jensen in further.

"cut the shit, i see the way you look at me during work and i know you've jerked off to the thought to me fucking you open every night, and shut up with the mr.ackles shit and call me jensen now are you gonna ride my dick or not" jensen snaps at you making you almost whimper at his agression "yes sir" you say stripping down to nothing, jenson taking off his pants and underwear along with his shirt.

you straddle his lap, and take his dick into your hand, stroking it slowly as you hold eye contact with him "yeah baby just like that" jensen breaths before pulling you into messily make out, his breath reeked of booze but you pushed through, fueled with the thought of finally being able to ride your boss.

"now ride me like the good little slut you are" jensen smirks as you shakily lift over him "c'mon you gotta have lube in here somewhere" he says rummaging through you car before finding a half empty bottle of lube in your glove box "half empty, you must get fucked a lot" jensen says before putting some on his fingers and smearing it on his dick and then on your hole and throwing the bottle in the backseat.

you lower yourself onto his dick slowly making jensen more and more frustrated "come on slut i dont got all night" he says grabbing your waist to push you all the way down on his cock, you moan out loudly "now doesn't that feel so much better, my dick all nuzzled in your hole" he says, his voice slick with cockiness, you look down to see the outline of his dick in your stomach making you whimper at the sight.

"yeah that's me in you, gonna ruin you from the inside and out" jensen says with a sick smile as he poke at the bulge and begin lifting and dropping you on his length over and over "jen- fuck... jensen" you whine "what" he asks, his attention set on the way you take his cock "slow down please" you ask throwing your head back.

"come on i thought this was your fantasy, to be getting your ass split by your bosses dick, you can take it" jensen says not stopping his motion into you "it's to big" you whimper feeling it spread and hit parts of you your dildo couldn't even get "well then do it for the sake of your job, if you can ride me till i cum then you keep your job, if you don't you're fired and you don't get to taste this sweet dick ever again" jensen smirked st your now scared expression.

he was putting your job on the line, but i mean you asked for this when you made advances towards him so now you have to get him to cum to keep this job and your boss "y-yes sir" you stutter lifting yourself off his cock and lowering onto him, his hands still holding your hips for support "mhm just like that, fuck yourself on daddys dick" jensen groans.

"you take me better than my wife ever did, that whiny bitch could barely take the tip but you... you can take all of me with no problem" he says thrusting upward into you a little "thank you daddy" you whine, feeling your knees go weak as you continue riding, you move you hand to your aching dick and start jerking off.

"ah ah who said you could jerk off" jensen tuts holding your hands behind your back with his own and slapping your ass "but i need to cum" you beg "looks like im gonna have to punish your slutty ass" jensen says and you feel your heart drop to your stomach knowing he wasn't gonna be light.

jensen wraps his hand around your throat and forces you too look at him while his other hand holds your hands in place before he begins thrusting up into you, the plaps filling the car as the windows become foggy from the sweat in the car, you moan out into the car as jensen assaults your hole brutally "daddy" you moan out at every drop.

"yeah you love the way i fuck you right, wanna feel this dick every day" jensen spits out roughly as his eyes fill with lust and hunger, you nod at his question "mhm" you whimper lowly tightening your hole around him "want my kids deep in your stomach huh" jensen asks "wanna make me a new daddy, walk around my house filled and good" and you moan at the mere thought of you getting fucked by him every day.

"yes daddy please fill me up with your cum, i want you in me all the time" you moan "im gonna fucking ruin your ass and make it all sloppy so no other guy can fuck you" jensen says through gritted teeth, and just right there you cum all over his chest, you look down at him with fear written in your eyes "please daddy im so so sorry i didn't mean to cum" you try to apologize but its to late "cumming when i didn't say you could, not only are you a whore but you're a disobedient whore" jensen says with a smirk.

jensen moves his hand from your throat and your head drops as his hand moves to slap your ass "count how many times i slap your ass okay" jensen says and you nod without a single thought in your mind from being fucked dumb, one slap on your ass "one" you weakly say and another "two and another "three" and another till you couldn't even remember what number you were on "which one was that y/n" jensen asks still fucking into your sloppy hole "five" you answer "wrong answer" he says and you could feel him go harder.

"so fucking dumb all over my dick, not a single thought behind those eyes you just wanna please me" jensen says noticing you almost faint "hey stay with awake we're not done yet" jensen says slapping you and grabbing you by the chin to lift your head, you couldn't even make out what was happening, everything was molding together and words were just sound in the back of your mind.

jensen had been abusing your hole for about an hour now and you were just praying that he'd cum and give you some rest, your eyes were rolling to the back of your head as he fucked you up, you tried to speak but the words would just be babbles "speak clearly for me baby" jensen would taunt watching you get dumber and dumber.

"you want daddy to cum in you, fill you up with his big dick" jensen asks in a teasing voice, you nod desperately at the question "okay then" jensen says taking his other hands from around your wrists and moving it to hold you waist still, he fucks up into you roughly making you see stars at this point, you couldn't even make out what was real or just apart of your imagination.

but that didn't matter as you felt the sweet feeling of relief wash over you as jensen came in you, you could feel your stomach getting more full as his cumm filled you "yeah take it take it all" jensen grunts still fucking you to ride out his high and push his cum further in you "does this mean i keep my job daddy" you ask weakly "yeah i gotta keep you around for this good hole" jensen mutters lifting you off his messy dick, the cum dripping from your loose hole.

jensen put you in the backseat and get in the drivers seat and drove you to the office because he didn't know where you lived and when he tried to ask you you'd reply with some unknown whines, you woke up to the sight of jensen working at his desk and you were in his over sized clothes "go home and wash up then come right back" jensen demanded like he didn't fuck you unconscious last night, but trust after that day you were his cum dump, he dumped load after load into you, and when he was mad you knew you were gonna get some good dick that day.

taglist: @mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat

[happy74827]

Chaos Theory

[Mike Schmidt x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When Mike's crazy schedule finally aligns with one of the so-called "parental meetings" at Abby's school, he decides to see what it's all about. Little did he know he'd come to seriously regret that.

WC: 2,590

Category: Slight Fluff

I failed an exam today, so I wrote this to cheer myself up. I still feel pretty crappy, but this was really fun to write lol.

Also if you see any grammar mistakes, no you didn’t.

『••✎••』

When it came to Abby’s school, Mike was at a disadvantage. He couldn’t go to any of the parental meetings, not because he didn’t want to, but because he was constantly doing something work-related during the time those meetings were scheduled.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t keeping an eye on her grades and school attendance. It just meant he couldn't be there for the day-to-day things. Abby was a good kid, though; she never gave him trouble about the things he missed, and she did a pretty good job of keeping her grades up and attending all her classes.

Her teacher, you, was also very understanding of his schedule and position. He wasn’t sure how many teachers would have been as patient with him as you were. It was part of the reason he had grown fond of you, though it had been a gradual process that happened mostly unbeknownst to him.

At the beginning of the year, he had only been concerned about getting Abby acclimated to her new school. She was a quiet kid, stuck to her drawings, and it was even hard for him to get her to open up sometimes. Runs in the family, apparently. But, somehow, you were able to break down the wall that had been erected around her. Abby still didn't talk all that much, but she would always come back from school with a smile on her face. So, Mike was happy.

Then, like all good things, it came crashing down like a house of cards when his work schedule finally aligned with one of the “upcoming” meetings. This one was apparently a very big deal, and it was strongly implied to show up.

He hated these things despite never going to any before, but he just knew it would be filled with nosey people asking questions about his life. His sister. His “wife.”

God, he was already annoyed. The only saving grace was that it was the last meeting before the holiday break, so once it was over, he would be free for a while. Free to do what, exactly? Work, most likely, but a guy can dream.

The bell rang, signifying the end of the school day and the start of his personal nightmare. The door to the classroom was opened by one of the school's assistants, who held a clipboard in hand and waited for the “parents” to enter the room. He had arrived earlier than the scheduled time so he could speak to the assistant and find out what the meeting would entail, and already he knew it was a bad idea coming in here.

The woman was a nosy old biddy that was all too eager to learn the details of his and Abby's life.

He kept his answers short and clipped, but it did nothing to dissuade the woman. It got worse when he entered the classroom and saw the number of other parents who had shown up. He felt like an animal in a zoo; all the eyes followed his movements as he went to sit closest to the wall and away from the rest of the people.

The surrounding parents looked as though they lived in the next town over. They were clean-cut, hair styled perfectly, and clothes ironed. It was like they were trying to be a picture-perfect family.

He looked down at his own attire. His work boots were scuffed and dusty. His pants had a few grass stains from a recent job. His flannel shirt was buttoned wrong, and the sleeves were pushed up. Even his hair was a mess; he had tried to style it but didn't have much success, so he eventually gave up. The only thing going for him was that he had taken a shower before he left, so at least he didn't smell like sweat and grime.

As the meeting began, Mike had to try his best not to fall asleep. It was the typical teacher stuff. How the kids were doing. What the curriculum was for the following year. What their goals were. Blah, blah, blah.

Mike didn't care. He trusted you, and he knew his little sister was smart. She didn't need someone holding her hand and telling her what she was doing right or wrong. He knew this because he did that, and she didn't need it.

What did interest him, though, was the fact you kept looking his way. You didn't look at the others, and when you spoke, it was usually aimed toward them, but he saw the way you would look at him from the corner of your eye. He figured you were probably in shock that he actually showed up this time.

The meeting dragged on, and he was ready to leave. There were a few moments he had caught himself nodding off as he needed sleep, and this wasn't helping him. But then, like everything else in his life, the universe decided it was his time to suffer.

There was one woman who had sat at the front of the classroom. She wore her hair pulled back tight in a bun, her shirt was pressed, and her face was set in a permanent frown. He hated that lady; she reminded him of his good-for-nothing aunt who only wanted to criticize every choice he made.

The lady was also the mother of the most spoiled, brattiest child in the whole class. That damned kid had made it her life mission to torment Abby. He had come home more than once with her complaining about it, and when Mike had brought it up with you, you had told him that you had spoken with the parent.

That, of course, had done nothing. The child was an annoying pest, and he hated the way she treated Abby, but his sister had learned early on to deal with the bullying on her own. It didn't stop him from wanting to throttle the little shit, though.

The woman, the one who had started all his problems, took the opportunity to start a round of questioning. The first few were innocuous until they weren't.

"You seem to be a very patient woman." The woman had spoken to you, but her eyes were locked on him. "Is it a skill that was learned?"

The question itself was innocent enough, but the inflection and tone she used were meant to cut. He wasn't stupid. He knew she was alluding to something. It was always something, but he had to force himself not to say anything; the woman was a viper, and if he said something, she would attack without hesitation.

"I think anyone can be patient," You had responded diplomatically. "It's just a matter of the situation."

The woman didn't look happy with your answer, but she didn't pursue the line of questioning.

"Well, I couldn’t help but notice a certain someone who decided to finally drop in."

There it was. That was the opening.

Mike could tell you didn’t like the turn of conversation, and you were clearly trying to divert it elsewhere. It was no use, though. Mike could see the glint in the woman's eye as she prepared for the kill. She had a smile on her face, but her eyes were cold. "I was starting to think that Mr. Schmidt had abandoned his responsibilities. Wouldn’t be the first time someone in that family did such a thing."

He couldn’t help but have visions of his accidental mall incident from last year flash in his mind when he processed what the woman had said. He could easily hop over the desk and deck her right in the mouth. He had the muscle for it, and it was very tempting.

However, he would not.

If there was anything Mike had learned over the years, it was how to control his emotions, even if the situation was dire. The last time he had lost his cool, he ended up getting fired, but that was a long time ago… okay, not really, but the point was, he wouldn't make the same mistake again.

He wouldn't give the woman the satisfaction.

Mike leaned forward in his chair, arms crossed over his knees, and looked the woman straight in the eyes. "That's funny. I could say the same thing about your kid."

"Excuse me?!" She hissed, and she seemed offended. Good. He hoped she was offended.

"Okay, okay." You intervened, hands up as if to placate the two of them. "Let's keep this civil, okay? The last thing we want is to be kicked out of the school for brawling. That's not beneficial for any of us." You then looked back at the woman. "Let's not bring personal matters into this."

"Personal matters?" The woman was appalled at your statement, and her voice was so loud in the quiet room. He could tell many of the other parents were looking at them now, and he felt the weight of their gazes on him. It only made his anger spike. "That monkey of his tried to bully mine for three months now, and she's never done anything."

Monkey? Monkey?! Oh, he was going to kill her. It was one thing to talk shit about him; he was used to that, but Abby? No. Absolutely not. His little sister was the best damn thing to come into his life. He wouldn't have it.

But before he could say something, before he could even get out of the chair, you had done something he would never have thought you would. You got up and went to your desk, then you returned, holding a paper. You held it up for all the parents to see.

"This is a drawing my students did a few weeks ago," you started, and he was surprised at the level of calmness you were exuding. "The assignment was for them to draw the thing they loved the most."

Hearing those words, Mike had a feeling what was coming next, but he wasn't going to say anything. It would be like tempting fate. Still, he watched as you grabbed one of the papers, and then you turned it around so he could see it. Abby had done the drawing, and it was not only of him but of everyone else in her class as well. She had even drawn you standing near her with a kind smile. It was the picture she had brought home from that field trip months ago. It was a nice picture. Really nice. He liked it, and he knew Abby was proud of it.

"I made copies of every drawing so the parents could see them," You continued as you held out the picture for everyone to see. "So, tell me, would a bully do this?"

Your voice had a bite to it now, and he could finally see just how angry you were. He was surprised at how much control you were exerting. The other parents, however, were shocked at your sudden display of emotion. Even the woman, who had looked as though she was ready to take you on herself, looked like a deer caught in headlights. She didn't know what to say. No one said anything. Even he was shocked by your sudden outburst.

You were normally such a mellow person. Understanding, even. Always ready to listen, always ready to understand. You were the one who was there to help when something went wrong. You were the person who everyone turned to. You were… nice. You were a kind person. You were—you were just like Abby. That's all he saw in you now. You were just like his sister. You were just like her. You had that same determination and that same look of knowing something that others didn't, but there was also something else. You were a fighter, too. It was just something he hadn't noticed until this very moment.

You weren't the nice teacher everyone thought you were. No, you were more. You were the person he knew his sister was becoming.

"And to answer your question from before," you continued, ignoring the growing outrage from the other parent. "I'm a very patient woman because I understand that not everyone has the same opportunities. Some of us have a responsibility to provide the basic necessities for our family, which can often lead to not being able to attend these types of meetings.”

You looked directly at the woman when you spoke the last part, and you did not look happy. At all. In fact, he was pretty sure that was a little vein on the side of your head.

"Not everyone can be at their best every moment. Not everyone is at their best all the time. Not everyone has the privilege to complain about things not going their way. So, while I am a very patient woman, I will not have any of this derogatory about my students and their guardians." The calmness in your voice was gone, and your voice was rising, and you had started pacing back and forth behind your desk as you spoke. "Because if there is one thing that I cannot stand, it's someone who criticizes others just to make themselves feel better."

You went on to speak about your experience with the woman's daughter, explaining that a meeting needed to be called upon to address the issues with the child. You didn't stop there, though. No, you also spoke about how she should have addressed the situation when it was first brought up and how that, in turn, impacted the rest of your class. You had even pointed out some of the other parent's children who had done the same thing.

Suddenly, this meeting wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

It took a while, but once you finished your little speech, everyone had finally gotten over their shock and embarrassment. The meeting, as such, continued without incident, and by the time it was all said and done, Mike was ready to go home.

As he stood from his seat and made his way to the door, however, you stopped him. You had your bag in your hand and your coat on as well.

"I just wanted to—"

"You don't need to apologize," Mike cut you off. He didn't want an apology. He knew you weren't at fault here. In fact, he was surprised you took the time even to defend him. That didn't happen often. "I was expecting something like that to happen, but I appreciate you speaking up for Abby. She's got a good teacher."

He thought you would be embarrassed or even annoyed, but instead, your face lit up, and your cheeks turned red. "Oh, uh, well, it's my job. It was what I needed to do."

"Maybe, but you did it anyway. So, I appreciate it." He looked around the room and noticed everyone else had left. Even the nosy assistant had disappeared. He didn't know what to say, so he settled with saying the first thing that came to mind. "And hey, maybe next time you can tell them this is why I don't go to these meetings."

Your laugh was light, and you had a smile on your face. He liked the sound of it. He liked seeing it, too. He also liked the way it lit up your eyes. They had a beautiful color. So bright, so shiny. It was almost hypnotic.

"I'll consider it."

Mike wasn't sure how, but somehow, he knew you were telling the truth.

[astroismypassion]

Astrology observations 🌸🌸🌸

Credit goes to @astroismypassion

🌸 Ruler of the 2nd house in the 4th house: your mother might have got you your job. You have a job because of her.

🌸 Moon in the 4th house natives can be connected to female lineage of the family, like talking to mother, grandmother, an aunt. But that only if it’s harmoniously aspected. Some Moon in the 4th house cut off their mother.

🌸 Ruler of the 5th house in the 9th house: you are more popular abroad than in your home country.

🌸 Saturn in the 4th house natives often feel stuck. They might not be able to move as fast-paced as their peers. If they move to an apartment, they usually stay there for 4-7, even 10 years despite wanting to move earlier than that.

🌸 Ruler of the 2nd house in the 5th house: you might creative something within your workplace that gets limelight (gets talked about in the news, papers)! Such as for example you may work at a Michelin star restaurant and you are creating a dish that gets talked about in the press.

🌸 I noticed Saturn in the 4th house can very well indicate that the native has lost the mother. But often times I see that the native had a “secondary” mother like figure that emotionally nurtured them and supported more than their own mother. Usually the nurturing didn’t come from the primary source.

🌸 Whenever I see Saturn in the 2nd house, it gives me “old money vibes”.

🌸 The ruler of the 4th house in the 2nd house people often keep money in their home. These are the people to have a fairly large amount laying somewhere in the middle of book pages.

🌸 If you have Virgo North Node or NN in the 6th house you are basically learning in this lifetime how to keep a job. Very mundane, I know, but it’s true😂.

🌸 People with ruler of the 7th house in the 5th house often rush marriage or marry the person without really fully knowing them, for example after a year.

🌸 Juno in the 7th house native tend to work with their spouse, committed partner. Or finds a job due to an opportunity introduced by the partner. Usually is also a line of work connected with Venus, such as working together in a restaurant for example.

🌸 I noticed Pisces Moon men tend to be “the seductive con-artist” when it comes to luring a person into a partnership. And while this is often true, they also attract partners that see in them whoever they want to see. Usually how the partner of Pisces Moon sees them feels almost delusional in comparison how other people see the Pisces Moon native.

🌸 Venus in the 2nd house Synastry: 2nd house person might constantly compliment your outfit, even if you are not in a partnership.

🌸 Part of Fortune in the 1st house often need new beginnings in order to be successful in their endeavours, projects. They need to reinvent how they do things. They also attract more abundant energy when they start and finish the same project in one sitting, so that they use put their natural inspiration to good use.

🌸 Taurus Venus is always stereotypically describe, because Taurus it’s in his home here, so it feels the energy is easy for these people. But for these people it easily backfires if they are being inconsistent. They can’t really play the “ohh he didn’t reply in 2 days, then I won’t reply for 4 days” modern dating games. They really need to be the ones reaching out, being consistent to win someone over. Which kind of sucks, I know, because they will feel like they are always the one reaching out, so I hear you.

🌸 Venus in the 8th house can hook up with someone and in the midst they realize this person is their soulmate or lover. I’m not gonna lie, this native may not know whether they fully accept unconditionally their lover until they actually get physical with them. Venus in the 8th house hides their love nature, so they might not even know themselves.

🌸 Venus in the 9th house people can meet their future spouse, committed partner through your father.

🌸 Capricorn Venus: you might get hit on by clients, customers at work.

🌸 Cancer Jupiter, Sagittarius Moon might want to get married young or be a parent while they still are young and look good.

🌸 Meanwhile, Venus in the 4th house and Taurus over the 4th house can meet their lover through their mother. Or the mother will try to set you up with someone. Venus in the 6th house can meet the partner through your or their aunt or uncle. Venus in the 3rd house can meet the partner through your or their sibling, cousin.

🌸 Ruler of the 12th house in the 1st house: these natives can be perceived as passive. So that’s why people feel like they can control them. Another thing about this ruler not amount of drinking caffeine will help you in rising your energy. You are naturally low energy. You might also be more successful abroad.

🌸 Ruler of the 3rd house in the 2nd house people are often teachers, because it quite literally indicates speaking for a living. Also, you guys are great at voiceovers!!

🌸 Venus in the 10th house might have a partner in the same field, profession, for example both lawyers.

🌸 Ruler of the 7th house in the 6th house: your future spouse, partner could drive you to work and pick you from work as well.

🌸 The courting phase will be veryy long if you have ruler of the 7th house in the 5th house.

🌸 Mercury in the 5th house like variety when it comes to dating, because they get easily bored. However, I noticed they have a set preference for what type of dates they enjoy. They might always want to go for a coffee date, wine and dine date or hike date. Something about their dates tends to be still repetitive despite needing variety.

🌸 Mars in the 9th house rarely have a good relationship with their father. But if they do, the father was very strict with them wanting them to learn how to be successful, but kinda doing it in a domineering manner.

Credit goes to @astroismypassion

[pomefioredove]

i crave angst and hurt/comfort/fluff maybe something like that with vil? maybe reader gets hurt pretty badly or something and vil gets upset?? hehe angsty scenarios>>

on my hands and knees rn... vil... save me vil...

summary: anger is an ugly emotion type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, angsty..... mentions of bullying/abuse etc?? very open ended you can interpret that how you please, GOD this is indulgent

Anger is an ugly emotion.

So much is true even for Vil Schoenheit. If you asked him, there is nothing more undignified than losing your composure in front of others, especially those under your care.

No, Vil keeps such emotions to himself. If he feels the need to get a point across, or to settle a conflict, he will do so with grace and dignity. He won't even break a nail.

This is different.

This is seeing you turn away from him with tears in your eyes, and feeling as if the very world itself is crashing down around him.

He cannot stand it.

He cannot stand seeing you like this.

It shakes him to his very core. You've had bad days, evenings where you come crawling into Pomefiore looking as if the world had chewed you up and spit you back out at his feet, and he's tended to it.

He's combed your hair, cleaned the dirt out from under you nails, bandaged your paper cuts with a sort of gentleness he doesn't even reserve for himself, made you look new and whole again.

Vil can't help with this.

It drives him mad. It makes him feel like he's stuck inside his own ribcage with nothing but the sound of his beating heart, trapped in a flurry of confusion and anxiety.

He wishes you would just talk about it. It would make everything so much easier if you would let him help.

But he won't pressure you. He couldn't bring himself to. And, quite frankly, if he knew even the slightest detail about whomever had been making you feel this way, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop himself from finding them and mincing them to shreds.

As they deserved.

But Vil is not one to rush into anything. He is patient, cordial, taking his sweet time to understand a problem from all angles before enacting a solution.

And so, he doesn't ask.

He holds your chin between his delicate fingers and dabs at the corners of your eyes, hoping to brush away your misery along with your tears.

You sniffle. It's not a pretty sight- you're certainly no graceful crier.

He couldn't care less.

The only thing that Vil can think of now is how only one measly person could be your undoing.

After everything you've been through without even breaking a sweat, all it took were a few too-familiar words to melt you into a pool of bad memories and misery at his feet.

Sevens help whichever poor fool had done this to you.

"Now, now. That's alright," he coos, wiping your cheeks just as a new barrage of tears runs down them. "Don't worry about a thing."

You just barely manage to choke out a response. "I'm sorry, this is- this is embarrassing,"

"Nonsense. You have nothing to feel bad for. I promise I won't utter a word of this to the others,"

He cups your face in his palms, giving you a moment to compose yourself.

"Deep breaths," he instructs. "Seven seconds in, hold it, for just a moment, and then seven seconds out. There. Excellent job."

It's quiet. The sound of sobs and his own heart pounding seem to fade into quiet breaths shared between the both of you.

"Good," he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. A repetitive, soothing motion. "How do you feel?"

"Guilty," you say. "I didn't mean to ruin your evening."

"You've ruined nothing. You're very important to me, you know. I would never want you to think I'm too busy for you," he offers a smile. "Now, how do you feel?"

You're quiet for a moment, likely mulling over his words. Your voice is softer when you reply. "Tired,"

"Oh... you poor thing. I can't have you dead on your feet tomorrow, now, can I?"

You shake your head.

He stands, pulling you up with him. "Come along, then. Let's get you to bed. I'll help,"

He begins guiding you away from the couch you'd spent the better half of the evening sobbing on. You respond in a quiet voice.

"Vil?"

"Mm? Yes?"

"You promise you won't say anything about this to the others?"

A look of utter softness crosses his face at your request, and he smiles again. "My lips are sealed,"

[seungfl0wer]

*I’ll do anything*

Part Title: Devils Helping Hand

Genre: Angst/Smut/Fluff?

Paring: Minho x Reader (Fem)

Warnings: Mafia!Au, Mentions of death, Sick sibling, Mentions of being shot, also mentions of being Minhos slave, slight blood mention

This will be a small series. For my 🔪 anon, they have a beautiful brain and now I’m obsessed with the thought of Mafia boss Minho 😪 (Their request/thoughts Here and Here) also side note this is the first series of writings I’ve done in a long while so please bare with me and my ramblings.

Series Master List

-🩵

You prepared for this for weeks, wanting it to go right because it meant everything if you could pull it off. Staring at the building knowing there was people in there willing to shoot you on sight. But none of that mattered if you could pull it off. Your brother has been getting worse and worse. He’s been in the hospital for the past month battling his illness but nothing seems to be helping. There’s a new treatment they want to try however it’s expensive. The insurance can only cover so much of it and the rest is up to you.

You’ve been working your ass off 2 jobs, barely eating to save money and your sleep schedule? People slept? You sighed loudly watching as people got into their car to leave. You’ve been scoping out the schedules of them seeing when they leave how long they stay how many go in and out. It was gonna work. It had to work. You find the window that’s been open for the past 3 days slinking your body through it. Bingo. The room was close to the one you needed. You peaked out the door quickly checking the surroundings before bolting to the room beside.

The door was locked but you learned how to pick a lock just for this. You worked your janky skills as you heard voices down the hall. Heart races as you quickly tried the lock and then it clicked. You were in! You hurriedly got into the room so know one could see. One thing that was very odd to you was there was no cameras. You even had a mask you were gonna wear but realizing there wasn’t anything you didn’t put it on.

You searched the room opening ever drawer and checking ever nook you could. You were getting frustrated not being able to find the safe you knew was there. Until you remembered in those movies people would keep things behind paintings. Eh it was worth a shot to check. Moving the few art pieces you rolled your eyes as you actually found the safe behind a painting of the boss. He was handsome, but word had it he was a very cold hearted man. I mean he had to be doing this job.

You searched anywhere to find a code he might have wrote down anywhere. You sighed why couldn’t it have been one of those with the tiny keys. As you looked you heard the door opening “fuck” you say in a whisper “this is it huh” you said to yourself. You weren’t going to go out with a fight though. You stood behind the door waiting for him to come in as he shut the door he looked over to his desk. Noticing things had been moved he turned to grab the door again only to be met with your eyes.

He was so calm and collected while your heart was about to beat out of your chest. Your palms started to sweat and you could feel a lump get stuck in your throat as you tried to speak. He tilted his head a bit looking you over “who hired you?” He asked staring at you eyes staying locked “I’ll pay you double what they’re paying you” he said still studying you. He seemed almost confused you looked like such a sweet girl. Your innocent eyes shaking as you stared at him.

“No one sent me” you admitted, trying to make eye contact with him. He scoffed a bit “you broke in here with out no one find you and you expect me to believe you” he laughed “what the hell did you come here for then? Do you have a death wish?” He said making his way to his desk. This wasn’t going as you expected but you weren’t leaving here empty handed. You stared at him as he looked at the painting that hid the safe. “Ah so you came for money is that it?” He questioned. You nod “My brother is sick” you said softly “i don’t give hand outs sorry” he laughs a bit before you cut him off “then let me work for you, I can do anything.”

He paused looking at you “I can get a whore anytime” he was about to say before you continued “I can clean really well, I’m also a pretty good cook” he raised an eyebrow he was honestly more confused than anything. “Pay me the money for my brother and in return I’ll be your servant” you said choking back tears. You couldn’t tell if it was from being upset about your brother or the fact this man could literally just kill you here.

He walked to his desk sitting down staring at you with big boba eyes “and if I refuse?” He smirked “what will little you do to me hmm?” He has a point what exactly could you do if he said no. The only thing you could really muster out was a “please” your hands trembled now, shaking so bad it felt like you were vibrating. Your legs felt like jello so wobbly and weak. You looked over your face making his way to you he lifted your head to make you look at him. He stared at you thinking hard “You will do anything I ask you. No protesting. Everything I say to you is met with a yes sir. If you cannot follow these orders say goodbye to your brother.”

That last part hurt a bit, but you nodded excepting the offer “good girl” he said in response dropping your face “how much exactly do you need?” He says like the money is an after thought like he was so rich it wouldn’t matter. “His first treatment would be 80K but his insurance is covering at least 10K so 70K.” You croaked out. It was so much money and that was only for the first treatment and it may not even work. You had 5K saved already from working yourself to death but it would take you forever to get it all.

He nodded “pocket change honestly” he said with a cold expression “I’ll pay it in full for you to come work for me for at least 6months” he said staring at you. You were honestly shocked 6months? You thought he’d just make you a slave forever “however you will move into my home for the time being so I can keep you close. Don’t want you running off after I pay” he laughed a bit “like you’d be able to hide from me” he said still laughing. “And if he needs another treatment we can work something out.” He said cracking his neck slightly.

You kinda just nod your head was empty at this point. Your body had almost gone numb at the thought of what you had offered. If you got yourself killed who would be there to help your brother? So you made a deal with yourself there and then, you were gonna put a smile on and work as hard as possible. No matter what the man would through at you. You were gonna live and live to see your brother better.

“So is it a deal darling?” He said his voice so sweet sounding but his face turned into a smug smile. “It’s a deal.” You said locking eyes with the man “Good choice, now please sit while I grab my stuff. We will swing by your house before we head to your new home.” You nod “oh by the way darling I never caught your name.” He said nonchalantly rummaging through his desk “I’m y/n.” You said as you watched the man he nodded slightly “Y/n- hmm. A pretty name for a pretty lady” he smiled.

Was he hitting on you? Your eyes widen a small bit thinking to yourself. The smile on his face widened a bit at your expression “gonna put you to work when we get there cause I’m starving” he said finding the paper he needed “oh by the way kitten, if you are going to my little slave just know you will not leave as innocent as you came here” he said smirking getting up putting his bag over his shoulder. That’s it. You had literally just sold yourself, not just for work but your body.

Shit. You said to yourself can’t he get any hooker or whatever he wants. He wouldn’t want you right? RIGHT!?

-🩵

He opened the door for you to get in the car he got in after sitting beside you. He told the older man driving your address and you headed to your house. Your mind buzzing thinking of what you are getting into. You broke the silence with a low “shit.” Minho turned his head in question wondering what had made you said that. But before he could ask the man had pulled into your place. It was a small janky apartment where he knew well had a lot of problems. Just last week someone from his group had shot someone dead in the street.

His eyes looked over at you how could you be living here? Someone so beautiful in such a crime ridden place, you didn’t have anyone here to protect you he thought to himself. Or did you? He never thought to ask honestly. And if you would have someone what then? He’d make sure they’d be outta the picture.

Minho broke out of his thoughts as you tapped his shoulder “uhm we’re here” you said softly looking at him with almost puppy dog eyes. You both walked in silence up to your door, your apartment was pretty empty you hadn’t bought much of anything after moving here. It was the closets and cheapest place you could get to your work and your brother. The place itself was very neat and clean almost looked like you just moved in.

Closing the door behind you, you turned to Minho “I have a question” you said avoiding eye contact. Before he could respond he heard a faint meow coming from the only chair you had in the living room. He smiled his expression softened as he knew what you were gonna ask. “I’ve always loved cats” he said walking towards the crusty looking cat. The cat rolled over as he approached exposing her little patchy belly. Her fur was a burnt orange color with a black and white batches over. She was a little chunky thing, with only one eye. Her meow was cute almost like a kittens meow how high pitched it was.

“Will she be joining you?” He asked as he petted her soft fur. His body language was so different now, he seemed approachable and kind. “Is that ok with you?” You said with hopeful eyes. He nods “of course” he pauses for second “when we get home you will address me as sir as I said before. You haven’t said it once but I will let it slide for now.” He said standing up staring at you “get what you need quickly.”

You head to your room grabbing clothes and such. As you did the man snooped through your house. Checking your fridge. Empty. Empty?? His jaw almost drops at the sight. It was so bare not even condiments. There was a single bottle of water, a small carton of milk and jar of jelly. What the fuck do you even eat? He questioned. How are you even alive if this is what your fridge looked like. He looked in the cupboard seeing a few canned foods but he noticed you had a whole shelf of cat food, treats and wet food. Of course. Damn you’re so sweet aren’t you. Buying food for your cat over yourself. God how’s he gonna be this tough guy over you when you’re this loving? He thought.

You came back out with a suitcase packing the cats stuff and putting her in her carrier. You looked at him as he stood by the door scared for what is to come but relieved your brother will be taken care of. You two walked back the car heading to your new “home” back again in silence.

-🩵

You pulled up to a beautiful house, it was nestled in the woods you could see a beautiful garden at the side with a small pool on the other side of the house. The house itself was not overly big. Bigger than one man needed but no mansion like you thought he’d have. Stepping out of the car Minho grabbed the carrier as you took your suit case out. You headed inside where he gave you a small tour, showing you where you’d be staying which was right across from his room.

“Alright now that you know the place I’m starving.” He said stretching his arms above his head “let’s see how your cooking skills are” you nod as you both walked towards the kitchen. You looked through the fridge that was stalked to the brim of fresh vegetables, fresh fruit and meat. Anything and everything you could really want. You quickly get to work on making him some fish over rice and some fresh steamed veggies.

As you cooked he watched over you, like a Sargent almost. He found it so attractive you could cook because he himself loved to cook. That’s a reason he’s never hired a chef but now he had you. Watching you make him food, your pretty lips in a pout almost as you focused on what you were doing. His body almost moved on its own, he pressed himself against your hands coming up to grab yours as you cook. “You should do it like this” he said helping you cook the fish.

He was so close to you, you could feel his hot breath on the back of your neck. Body pressed as close to yours as he could. His other hand resting firmly on your hip as his other wrapped around your hand that was holding the pan. You could feel him moving his hips slightly against you. Soft enough he thought you wouldn’t feel, but you did. God did you feel it. “Y/n” he said softly “you’re doing so well” his voice barely audible. The very intimate moment was interrupted by his phone ringing. His sighed loudly as he pealed himself away from your body grumply answering the phone.

“What” he hissed at whoever pulled him away from you. “Alright I’ll be right there” he said another loud sigh escaping his plush lips. “Of course I gotta go” he rolled his eyes. You titled your head a bit as you heard a car horn honking. He quickly went to the door “Make yourself at home I won’t be gone longer than 2 hours.” He said rushing out the door. You breathed out almost sad he had to leave. You wondered how much time he actually had to himself. He seems like he works himself a lot especially at the state of his house. You finished making his dinner placing it in the microwave for him to heat back up.

You kept yourself occupied cleaning up the kitchen, you cleaned up half the house before you sat down falling asleep on the couch. Minho finally came home later than he was supposed to. It was 3am, he looked exhausted slight blood painted his shirt. As he walked through the door he was almost shocked at how clean you had gotten things already. He saw you sleeping on the couch he was going to carry you to bed but remembered his shirt. He took a quick shower before coming back out. While he was in the shower you had heard him come home. You heated his food up for him setting it out on the table with a glass of whine you had found.

You slumped back into the couch waiting for him to come out only to quickly fall back asleep. The couch was so comfortable. You had been sleeping on a small bed on the floor. Anything was honestly better than it, it was so hard and lumpy.

Minho came out of the shower the smell of the food had filled the air his hungry stomach lead him straight to the kitchen. His heart cried as he saw you had warmed his food up and sat it out for him. Why the fuck are you being so kind to him? He thought to himself. He quickly devoured the delicious food you had prepared and oh boy was it delicious. He made his way to the couch seeing you had fallen back asleep he picked you up taking you to your room. You laid you down putting the covers over you and quickly kissing your forehead.

This was it. You were gonna ruin him. You already had his heart melting. Do flips at the sight of you. The thoughtfulness you had already shown and being so obedient cleaning when he didn’t expect you to already. He stared at you softly for a moment “one of us is gonna destroy the other, I can feel it. And honestly I hope it’s me who’s destroyed at the end” he said before placing another kiss to your forehead leaving to his room. He laid there staring at the ceiling just thinking of you before drifting off to sleep.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[reiderwriter]

Okay, I just wanted to start off and say I love your stories. They're always so good. You've reblogged one of my stories a while, and I actually squealed and scared the crap out of my friend. But yeah, I live you and your stories 💖💖💖

So I read your one story of Spencer being a soon-to-be dad, and I really like the idea of seeing Spencer and reader as actual parents just feeling the emotions. I thought something based around their daughter (because Spencer's a girl dad) hitting a milestone like walking, talking, or something even bigger like the first day of school. I don't know if that makes sense, but either way, I hope you like it!

A/N: I love the idea of new-dad Spencer. He deserves a loving family and a baby so much 😭 I combined this request with one of the prompts for @imagining-in-the-margins Kid Fic challenge which you can find the details for here! ❤️

Warnings: none, just fluff.

Masterlist

You never thought leaving to go for a spa day would be one of the hardest things you'd have to do in your life, but here you were. 

In the ten months since you'd given birth to your daughter, you'd been stressed, lacking in sleep, leaking fluids from places that you forgot could have fluids leak from, and you'd been totally, irreversibly, head over heels in love. 

Both with the tiny little gremlin you'd given birth to, and with the man that you watched become a father. 

Spencer Reid was a great dad. 

He'd had a fair amount of anxiety leading up to the birth, worrying about every detail, talking to geneticists, driving you to and from each check up or attending via video call if he was on a case. After she was born, he helped out as best he could. 

For a man who had delivered a baby before and was absolutely great with his teammates' kids, he couldn't hold her for the first week without an intense look of panic crossing his features.

“Y/N, what happens if I drop her?” 

“Y/N, she sneezed. What if I got her sick?”

“Y/N, she fell asleep, I can't move.” 

A genius with an IQ of 187 slashed to 60 in front of a pretty girl. His tiny daughter had him thrown through a loop he got seriously stuck in. 

He was still helpful, and he got used to all his new duties and tasks within a week, but watching those cute clueless expressions pass over his face now and then endeared you to him that much more. 

He knew everything, but he had to learn this right there with you. 

So yes, leaving for a relaxing spa visit was hard. 

Spencer had been on a case for the last four days, his first since your daughter had arrived and the official end to his paternity leave. You'd been happy to see him get back to it, in all honesty. Spencer’s job, his research, and his work at the FBI were like muscles he needed to stretch. It wasn't that he couldn't live without them, but there would always be a part of him that felt stiff or unsure of himself without the possibilities of a case to unravel or some theorizing to do. 

You were slightly panicked at the thought of being alone with your daughter for four days, but you managed. With a phone call home every single night where he asked you about every single thing your little bundle of joy had done outside of his watchful gaze. 

Now, it was your turn. 

Spencer had insisted on it upon returning from his case. He got four nights of relative peace after 20 months of waking up with the baby, sleeping with the baby, napping when the baby napped, carrying the baby around when it became evident that she was desperately scared of not being the center of attention. 

He came back with a spring in his step, and the deep desire to see you get a solid night's rest the way he'd been able to. 

You'd tried shooting him down, multiple times, to no reward. 

“Spencer, you didn't exactly just up and go off gallivanting. You were working.”

“I was working, and I still got more rest than you. I really needed that sleep and time away, Y/N, and I think you do, too. Now, please, go away,” he'd pulled you into his arms when you'd put the baby down that night to reveal his brilliant plans. 

“Just for the night. Go away for a lovely overnight break. Not indefinitely. I love you.” His panicked confession at the end sent you into giggles, that with a few well times kisses had you reluctantly agreeing to the girls trip he'd planned you. 

The BAU girls had been roped into accompanying you on the trip, which honestly meant that he'd be getting status updates any time he asked for one. 

JJ, Penelope, Emily, and Tara were all going to strong arm you into the car if need be to carry you off to the nearest 5(ish) star Hotel and Spa. 

And that's exactly what happened. 

The man had even packed the bag for you to send you off, had made you breakfast in bed and had run to every sound your daughter had made from dusk until dawn so you didn't have to lift a finger. 

“Y/N, you're resting today.”

“But-” 

“No. No buts. Just rest.”

“At least let me hold her for a second to say goodbye.” He blinked at you for a few seconds before his stubbornly helpful face turned softer, and he quickly handed your daughter back for a small cuddle. 

With a lingering hug, you told your daughter - who absolutely did not care one bit that you would be wandering out of the house soon enough - that you'd be back in the morning, kissed your husband on the lips, and were swiftly kidnapped by JJ and Emily. 

To your credit, you lasted two whole hours before breaking down. 

The drive to the hotel was quick and peaceful, and it felt nice to breathe in the fresh air without having to also check for various baby smells. 

You checked in fast, and all gathered in the in-hotel restaurant for brunch and mimosas, and then it hit you. Another mother walked in with a stroller, and you were blubbering. 

Your bottom lip wobbled, and the rest of the world ceased to exist as you gave in to the emotions. 

You knew, of course, that you were going to have to leave your daughter at some point. It wasn't healthy for either of you to have attachment issues, and you didn't want to hinder your daughters development by sticking too close - but that didn't mean you didn't miss her. 

JJ noticed your watery eyes first. “Oh no, I know that look,” she smiled over her drink, taking a sip. 

“What? What look?” You said, but giving yourself massively away with a good sniff and watery blink. 

“You lasted longer than I did. I couldn't go half an hour without turning my car around and heading back to Henry, and I swear it was only worse with Michael.” 

You giggled a bit as you wiped your eyes. 

“Do you think… do you think we could go back? Just for a little bit. I just want to check on them.”

The women passed a look between them and then nodded back at you, obviously having expected this. 

“Actually, we didn't book any spa treatments until the afternoon. We had a feeling something like this would happen,” Tara smiled at you, and you snorted in surprise as you dabbed away your tears with a handkerchief. 

“We are laying some ground rules though,” Emily said, a stern tone fighting the playful smile on her face. 

“We can peak through a window, but we're not going in. And we're not going to call ahead and let Spencer know. The kid needs to know you feel confident in his parenting skills, and if he's just got the baby settled and you come back in, it won't be easy to calm her down again.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” you said, but you were already halfway to the car by the time you could finish the sentence. 

The girls pulled up a block away and let you walk calmly back to your front door. 

You'd since agreed to a time limit and not to unlock the door. Emily went ahead to scope out the house, communicating with JJ on the phone who was holding your hand to stop you from wringing them. 

You'd never been a part of the BAU, but somehow you felt like a team member on a case getting ready to stake out a target. 

When Emily gave you the signal, the rest of the girls gave you space, and you ducked down to peer into your ground floor window. 

Spencer was on his stomach with your daughter, and they were having what seemed like a riveting conversation. 

“And so then I obviously got tongue-tied. Like I said, Daddy isn't good at talking to people, let alone beautiful women like Mommy.” 

“Be be be da.”

“Exactly. I really embarrassed myself, actually. I went up to her and said ‘do you have a number?’ and she was so confused.”

“Ba!” 

“Yeah, she sounded like that, too. I kept talking more and more, and she couldn't understand what I meant. She thought I was asking about her age at one point. I was just getting redder and redder, and then she grabbed my hand and led me to a seat at the back of the bookshop because she thought I was sick.”

He smiled down at the infant again, still babbling to herself.

“I was sick, of course, but it was just love sickness. I still am.” 

The tears that you'd delicately wiped away earlier came back hot and heavy now as you resisted the urge to crawl through the window to your precious family. 

Spencer was telling your daughter the story of how he first asked you out, near disastrously, and from the sounds of it, he wasn't done telling stories. 

“I really love your Mommy, you know. She's wonderful.”

“Mmmm,”

“See, you think so too. Everyone thinks so.” 

“Mmmma” 

“Yes, your Mama. You’re just like her, everyone loves you, too.” 

“Mama.”

You heard Spencer's breath hitch as you closed a hand over your mouth to stop a shocked squeal from coming out. 

“T-That's right. Mama. One more time, say mama.”

“Mama,” the little baby squealed in delight, reacting to her fathers utter joy. 

“You're speaking. One more time, Mama.”

“Mama!” 

“Your mama is going to be so mad,” Spencer whispered, grabbing his daughter up in one more careful hug and kissing her face as she giggled delightfully. “We need to keep this a secret. Tomorrow, you'll have you say your first word in front of her, and we'll both act surprised, okay? Promise?”

The gargle he got in response was enough to have your shoulders shaking as the others extricated you from your own front lawn. 

Back in the car, you broke down into giggles and tears, shoulders rising and falling in sobs and laughter intermittently. 

“Is this a total psychotic break or just a symptom of seeing Spencer as a dad?” Penelope asked, nudging you with her elbow as you tried to regain your composure.

“It's… whew, it's okay. We can go back now.” 

“You sure?” JJ asked from the driver's seat, and you nodded once again.

“Yeah. I'm fine now. I'm really good.” 

The women all offered you similar smiles as you drove away, blissful and content. 

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗥𝗢𝗖𝗞 - part three max verstappen x fem! driver! reader (fluff) series summary . . . when the lives of an f1 and wec prodigies collide, hey find out hey find out that they're not that different and carve out a place for their selves in each others hearts. the commentators from sky sports call this puppy love

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yn.halimi

liked by landonorris maxverstappen1 and 21.6k others y.ln p4 on first our race, not where we wanted to be but we'll get there!! round one, check ✅ imola next, can't wait 👋

landonorris Y/NNN ⤷ yn.halimi LANDOO

username good luck

ferrarihypercar you did an amazing job out there! ⤷ yn.halimi forza ragazzi ❤️

username Wtf Porsche dominated like Red Bull in f1. A lot of work to do for Ferrari. But forza Ferrari

carlossainz55 Ojalá hubiera podido venir a mirar [wish i could have come and watched] ⤷ yn.halimi La próxima vez! Acabo de recibir noticias sobre tu p3, va a ser una gran temporada👍[next time. i just received news about your p3, it's going to be a great season] ⤷ carlossainz55 cuándo será la próxima vez? imola? [when will be the next time? imola?] ⤷ yn.halimi sí, Imola en abril. eso es hasta ahora [yea, imola in april] ⤷ landonorris soy lago ⤷ yn.halimi dora the explorer did not teach you well

username Consider Qatar 1812 a race about discovery, of finding out a lot about the car 🏎️🐎

maxverstappen1 thumbs up ⤷ landonorris soy lago ⤷ landonorris i think max is having a stroke? ⤷ yn.halimi soy lago? you trying to show off your spanish skills?😂

username I see the F1 ferrari energy slowly transferring to WEC

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thumbs up. you couldn't hold in the smile that curled on your lips as you re-read the comment. exiting your profile and going to dms, you didn't scroll far to reach the desired contact.

'saw you asked for me the other night' you typed, turning you phone off after so you could slip in your bed and shut your eyes for the night. it had been a long day for you and now that you were finally back in your hotel you couldn't wait for some proper rest.

but maybe you could stay up a little longer. Once your phone buzzed from on the nightstand you'd snatched it and unlocked it. 'we were playing fifa and i wanted to beat you' you couldn't feel the wide smile that stuck on your face. 'fifa you say? i might not have my console with me but i have some free time and my soccer shoes' you typed back quickly seeing he was still online and in the chat.

'what do you have in mind?' if your smile could have gotten any bigger, it would've. you sat up looking around your room. after a few seconds of thinking you looked back down at your phone. 'see you in jeddah?'

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The weather didn't bother you that much. you barely ever wear revealing clothes so wearing modest clothes didn't feel odd. you were too busy dribbling the football to be bothered by something irrelevant as clothes anyways, especially since max was chasing you and trying to steal the ball away.

Unlike the dutch who didn't waste any of his time going over to jeddah, you arrived during the evening, sometime after four. it was only at 5:30 did the two of you decide to actually go through with the plan of having a small football match together.

You were very surprised that the dutchman had accommodated for your time together at his hotel, somehow managing to book the tennis courts and take out the nets so you could makeshift a football field. It was a single goalie match, your shoes that you never got to wear making where the goal was.

"That's cheating." You huff-laughed, pushing him back with your shoulder. You must not have been in race mode because Max's reaction time skills were still on. in your moment of weakness he was able to steal the ball and take his shot to the bake shift goal. "Yea!" He cheered throwing his hands up, dabbing.

Crouched down on your knees, you tried to hold in a laugh at max. "That doesn't cpunt! You cheated!" You accused, getting back up on your feet. the time was sometime in early 6 and the sky had taken a nice gold and orange colour. "Contact!" Max fiend hurt as you you pushed your side into his sending him a couple of steps to regain his balance. "a 5-second time penalty for ms. L/N." "A fine for mr. verstappen." "A fine?" max put a hand on his chest making a shocked face. "Oh dear, go easy my bank account."

"Hmm" you put your hands on your hips, pretending to think. "I'm sorry mr. verstappen, but it's pretty big fine." "oh no. How much?" he played along, pretending to be worried and shocked.

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"It's bad they don't serve wine here, I'd be getting two gorgeous bottles of 1945 Domaine de la Romanee-Conti." You hummed, whispering about the wine once the waiter severed your table and left. "1945 what?" Max chuckled as took a sip of his drink ( which was actually just redbull in a fancy glass ) before picking up his fork to begin with the mini feast you ordered.

"Expensive french stuff." you shrugged, starting to eat from your own plate. "How expensive." He asked, chewing and looking at you. You gave another shrug, drinking your own drink (which was also just redbull in a fancy glass) to help swallow. "about 558k?" Max chocked on his food momentarily and you laughed at his reaction.

[abbyromanoff]

CLOSER

PAIRINGS: Wanda Maximoff x reader

WORD COUNT:

WARNINGS: smut, Wanda has a dick, fluff, cuddle sex, mommy (R), service top!Wanda, begging, breeding, praise, fluff, multiple orgasms, cockwarming, think that’s all!

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

Wanda watched the clock slowly ticking away as she lay in bed beside your sleeping body. It wasn’t often that she couldn’t sleep, she was usually the first to fall into a slumber. But tonight was different.

You had been teasing her all day, walking around in loose clothing that allowed her to see everything. When you went to the store together for a few groceries, she would stare down the wandering eyes until they were too scared to be in her presence.

You had complained about your bra since you put it on. And instead of grabbing a new pair, you decided to just go without. It wasn’t like you did it on purpose, but it’s not like you missed the bulge growing in your girlfriend's pants either.

She was too scared to say anything, to ask you for what she wanted. She always had been. She would leave it up to you to make the first move because she was ‘too shy’ as she put it. But you wanted to break those boundaries and have her desperate enough to fall to her knees in front of you.

“Y/N? You awake?” When she received no response, she huffed. Her lips formed into a pout while she continued to toss and turn. Your back was facing her and, similar to earlier, you chose to wear practically nothing.

All you had on was a long, short-sleeve shirt you had taken from Wanda. It was too big for her too, so you hoped she didn’t notice when you took it, but she always did.

Her arms loosely and softly swung around your waist, she was careful enough not to wake you. She then pressed her front against your backside in hopes to find comfort, but it only caused more discomfort in her crotch. She stuck her head in between your shoulder and neck, the smell of your shampoo filling her senses.

She subconsciously rutted her hips into you, feeling the curve of your ass press against her straining cock. She dragged her free arm down to her boxers and cupped her length, shuddering as she imagined it was your own hand. Or better yet, your warm walls wrapped around her.

She knew you would be tight, you always were. And the more she thought about it the harder it became to resist touching you. She finally gave in, letting her hand find its way to your clit as she rubbed small circles.

She promised herself it would just be a quick touch, but that quick touch ended up with her grinding into you as she fingered your tight hole. You were coming in and out of your sleep as you felt a fiery sensation down below.

“Mm, Wanda? Baby, what are you- oh,” You mumbled when a second finger prodded at your entrance.

“I’m sorry, mommy, but I’m so hard. ‘M sorry, I-I promise I’ll make you feel good, please?” You couldn’t respond as the only noises that escaped were quiet moans.

“Fuck, that’s it, stretch mommy out, baby.” You were guiding your body on her fingers when she curled them, hitting that spot deep inside of you that had you screaming.

“S-shit, right there! Oh, God, keep going, you’re gonna make me cum.” You were fully awake by now as Wanda continued to whine behind you. You shushed her as you chased your high, your jaw slacking as she increased her speed.

“Am I doing a good job, mommy?” She quietly asked, fear evident in her tone. You nodded quickly while the coil in your stomach tightened more and more until you were about to tip over the edge.

There was no warning when Wanda felt her fingers being soaked with your juices. Due to you not facing her, you weren’t able to see the giddy smile she had planted on her face. Knowing that she was the cause of your orgasm always caused a great sense of pride to overcome her, it made her feel complete, like she succeeded.

“You did so well, Wanda, such a good girl you are.” She blushed at the praise, hesitantly grabbing your hand and guiding it to her crotch.

“Please, you’ve been teasing me all day. I tried fixing it myself but it wasn’t the same, please, I need you.” She rubbed herself against your palm in hopes to create relief, but it only caused her cock to drool more of her pre-cum.

“Aww, why didn’t you tell me, love? You know I’d gladly help you if you just asked.” You maneuvered so you were able to see your girlfriend, and you couldn’t stop the smile that arose when picking up on her flushed-out face. She was nearly panting when you slowly slid down her boxers, letting her length be set free and slap against her stomach.

“Oh my, I wish you would’ve told me how bad it was, I hate to see my baby suffer like this.” You pouted, running your thumb across her cheek soothingly. In all honesty, you did know how bad it had gotten, you felt it before you fell asleep. But it was all a trick to force her to speak for what she wanted instead of cowering down and letting herself be stuck in pain.

“I’m sorry..” She whispered under her breath, but you still caught it.

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart, mommy just wants you to speak up, okay?” You ran her tip across your folds, stopping at your entrance.

“Now, can you tell me what you want, sweet girl?” She led you to turn around, your eyes now facing the wall as you were restricted from seeing her great beauty. Even if you wanted her to speak her mind about what she hoped for, you were just as happy with her unworded demands.

“Can I?” She asked with uncertainty, and before you could come up with a response, you felt her dipping inside of you, grasping onto your warmth as if it were to leave her.

“I- fuck, you feel so good, could be in you forever.” She mumbled, apologizing whenever you winced from her size. She was trying her best to ease into you, to not let you feel the burning pain in your core. But it was impeccably difficult when she had been thriving off of the thought of you all day. All she wanted was to feel you, and even with your close proximity, it still wasn’t enough for her.

“Baby, you- you can’t get any closer than this.” You chuckled, only to be interrupted by a moan from deep in your chest.

“I know, y-you just feel so good, mommy. Can I move yet?” She asked, following off with a small plead in her alluring yet soft tone. You nodded, digging your nails into the arm that displayed itself over your chest, forcing themselves not to touch you. You knew she was too afraid to ask, so you instead brought her hand to your breast where it had been begging to rest. You felt her hips involuntarily speed up, looking down to notice a visible bulge resting upon your womb.

“You see that, Wands? You see how well you please your mommy, hm?” She bit her lip and smiled mischievously, reviling in your gasp when she tweaked your sore nipples.

You could tell the more she displayed her sloppy movements that she was close, she had been since you watched her cock leak for you. But you also knew she wouldn’t allow herself to release if you hadn’t. She wanted you to cum on her cock, feeling you on her fingers wasn’t enough. She needed more.

“Please tell me you’re close, I-I need to feel you. I need to feel you clench around me when you cum. Please…please tell me I’m doing good.” She begged, and if it wasn’t for the intimate position you shared, she would’ve been embarrassed for herself. It’s not that she didn’t want it, but she didn’t know how to express what exactly she was wanting from you.

“Yeah? You like knowing you’re my good girl?” She tightened her grip around you, nearly sending herself over the edge when she felt you clench around her.

“There we go, you’re doing so well. Mommy’s so happy to have such a good girl, baby.” She smiled to herself and let her lips suck on the skin of your neck.

“Listen, darling, listen to how wet I am for you.” You could both hear the sloshing of your juices as she thrusted in and out of your hole. She thrived off of the knowledge that you needed her just as much as she did you.

You could feel your approaching orgasm caving in on you, it was impossible to ignore. Wanda was too busy soaking in your pleasure to focus on herself, she didn’t even notice she had finished until you mentioned it.

“Fill me up, Wands, mhm, good girl, good fucking girl you are.” Her movements stilled, causing you to be left high and dry until you reached down to toy with your clit.

“I’m sorry, m-mommy…please don’t be mad at me.” She breathed out, disappointment lingering inside of her when she realized she had failed. She continued to toy with your breasts in hopes it would bring some sort of pleasure, her hips instantly following her movements from before.

“Wanda, Wanda, Wanda!” You yelled, making a mental note to find an excuse to tell the neighbors when they asked who was making so much noise and why, you already had too many complaints piling up.

She watched with hooded eyes as you soaked her cock, your liquids mixing as her orgasm painted your walls white. You felt waves crashing down on you as you panted heavily, your eyes finally being able to open as you calmed yourself.

“Wanda? Wanda, y-you need to pull out.” You told her after moments of feeling her stilled inside of you. Her whines in protest were enough to convince you to let her win just this once, fulfilling her dreams of keeping you full of her all night.

“Just this night? I promise I will in the morning, you’re just so warm.” You chuckled dryly and eventually nodded along, it only took a few more minutes before she was passed out behind you. Now she was the one sleeping, and you were left with her cock remaining deep inside of you, with every small gesture causing you to lowly moan.

You didn’t know how you were supposed to sleep like this, cum coating your thighs and slowly leaking from your hole, but you’d find a way.