#It must've dropped me off somewhere

[1shimaru]

Tried playing genshin with my friend recently but I was like "uhh, my map is kinda weird" I don't rlly wanna get a screenshot of it but basically it's this:

I can't even remember what item I got, but now that I've got a bitty piece of fontaine on the map, I keep getting their challenges despite being like 50 levels too weak :(

[luveline]

What about a lil fic of the first time bombshell reader gets mad at Spencer? Like it can be while they r dating or before and May be r is giving Spencer quiet treatment?

ty for requesting! ♡ fem, 1.3k

Spencer waits for Morgan to get up for a coffee before he gets up himself, tailing his teasing teammate to the microwave. He's hoping Morgan's in a sympathetic mood today, because Spencer is in dire need of some sympathy. 

"Loverboy," Morgan says, his voice steeped in suspicion. "Can I help you with something?"

"Do you know why Y/N's upset?" 

"You don't? You're the expert." 

Spencer rubs at his nose, the beginning of another migraine brewing between his eyes. The gesture draws a little more empathy than his misguided question. 

"You're gonna have to ask her yourself. I don't want her angry at me too, she's gonna fix my computer before Garcia finds out I fell for her phishing email test." 

"I've been asking her. It's making it worse. She won't answer my questions anymore. She just hums." 

"Silent treatment. Yikes." Morgan sips his tea through a grimace. "I mean, you must've done something bad. She's usually so–" 

"Lovely?" 

"–in love with you." Morgan laughs as he wanders off in the direction of the stairs up to Hotch's office. "Same thing."

Spencer decides to make a cup of bribery tea for you. He microwaves a mug of hot water and plunks a bag of your favourite blend in without ceremony, bobbing it up and down as he watches you from over his shoulder. You've moved desks upon request to sit with the rest of the team and opposite Spencer (against Hotch's self-proclaimed better judgement), your things set carefully in contrast to his books, a library's worth teeming on every spare inch. Some have even made their way onto your desk, pristinely stacked in wait of his perusal. It's one small gesture among the hundreds of kind things you do for him. 

"Here," he says, setting the mug down next to your mouse carefully. 

Your anger strikes him. Eyes frosted with an uneasiness he's not partial to, lips, so perfectly painted, screwed into a frown. It's not nice seeing someone he cares about upset with him, worse when he has no idea what it is he's done. 

"You're annoyed at me," he says. You wait for him to continue. "I don't know what I did." 

"That makes it worse." You frown at him. After a few seconds of this—your frowning, his looking sorry and confused— you sigh wretchedly (as in, he's never heard you sound that sad, ever, and he hates it). "Spencer, you stood me up." 

Everything in him goes cold. "No I didn't." 

Your sad frown melds again to anger. "Yes you did! I– I got my hair done at a salon, I bought a new dress, I bragged to all of my friends that my cute coworker was gonna be my date, and none of that mattered because you didn't text me back so I was worried sick all night that you were," —your voice drops to a private whisper— "in trouble somewhere, and then you come into work like nothing happened? Not even a hint of an apology? I thought you wanted to come."  

Your voice burns with embarrassment. Spencer can feel it in his throat, that plucky ache of someone letting you down. 

"That was last night?" he asks quietly. A friend asked you to their charity ball, not as ridiculously fancy as it sounds but an occasion of esteem and important to you nonetheless. "Y/N, I thought that was– I have it in my phone as next month. As November. I'm so sorry." 

"Why didn't you answer my texts?" 

He winces. "I had a migraine… Screens make it worse, and I haven't charged the battery yet because I was coming to work anyways I'm sorry, Y/N, really. I mixed it up. I should've asked you." 

You seem less disheartened at his admission. You cross your arms over your abdomen and lean back a touch in your chair, as if deciding whether he's being truthful. Spencer isn't in the habit of lying to you and anybody could tell you that, so after a few seconds you look away. "I asked you if you were excited yesterday morning. I told you my dress came."  

"I know." He can't believe he's gotten it wrong like this. Anyone can make a mistake, but he imagines you in your new dress with your hair done waiting for him in the cold weather that descended on Virginia last night and his guts twist into a knot. "I didn't piece it together. I didn't… I didn't…" 

Spencer can't remember the last time he let someone he loves down like this. His migraine spikes again like a needle in the eye, fiery agony that has him closing his eyes to cope. 

"Spencer," you say, softly admonishing. "Hey, it's okay." Your chair creaks.

"I'm so sorry," he says through his teeth. 

"I thought you were being a jerk, but I guess I should've known you wouldn't do something like that." You stand up and take his elbow into a very gentle hand. "I'm sorry for giving you the cold shoulder. It was childish. I was just hurt thinking you did it on purpose." 

"Sorry," he says again. "Migraine." 

Your hand rises to his cheek. "Yeah? Sit down, Spence. Take a breather." 

The doctors say that Spencer's migraines are psychosomatic. He doesn't get how something so odious can start from nothing. 

You seem twice as upset but in a different light, ushering him down into your chair. "Don't worry," you say softly, your hand falling into his hair, "I took a great picture. You can still see me in my nice dress." 

You're kidding but he's genuinely glad. Then the pain takes over and he can't see the other side of it for years. 

It only feels like years. 

When he can open his eyes, you've knelt by his chair. He hates to see you getting your pants dirty like that, hates worse that your eyebrows have pinched and the soft plane of your forehead has etched deep with concern. 

"You can still be mad at me," he says under his breath. 

"I'm a little upset," you confess, putting an uncharacteristically tentative hand on his knee. "It sucked, but not as much as this seems to suck for you." You're like an angel, all pretty and wide-eyed at his feet, your hand beginning a short path up his leg, a soft back and forth. "I'm sorry Spencer. I was punishing you for something that wasn't your fault." 

"You didn't know. How could you, I–" He winces as another wave of pain flares behind his eye, blurring your small smile. "I should've charged my phone." 

"Maybe. I can't imagine you had the capacity, Spence. Not if you're like this." 

"Don't just forgive me because I'm in pain." 

"I'm not, I'm forgiving you because even though it really hurt my feelings turning up alone, I'm not cruel enough to blame you now." You squeeze his knee. It's an instant balm, the chronic ache behind his eyes easing ever so slightly. Your forgiveness makes the rest bearable. "Can you forgive me for being so heartless?" you ask lightly. 

Your lips curve demurely around each word. Spencer scrambles to cover your hand with both of his, his neck craned forward. "Of course I forgive you." 

"Thank you." Spencer could collapse. "Drink some of this tea, okay? Maybe drinking something will help."  

Nothing ever helps, but he does it because it's your hands bringing the cup to his lips. 

"I know you looked beautiful," he says between sips. 

"I would've looked better on your arm. Too bad you're getting grievously attacked by your own brain. This is what happens when it gets too big, babe, it's trying to come out of your ears." He's a little sorry to have won you back this way, but mostly so, so relieved. "Anymore of this'll and you'll start messing up the months. Oh, wait!" You laugh as he laughs but soon scramble to apologise when the sound makes his head hurt. "Sorry, I'm sorry! Drink some more tea, sweetheart." 

[heeliopheelia]

BAD IDEA RIGHT? (p. sunghoon)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

includes: toxic relationship, implied cheating, dry humping, degrading, spanking, swearing, spitting in mouth, pet names, choking, manhandling, unprotected sex, hair pulling, bratty reader, dumbification, fingers sucking, oral (m receiving)

word count: 2.6k

synopsis: 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘤 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘺

guts event masterlist ⋆♱✮♱⋆ main masterlist

u up?

from: why isn't he blocked yet?

- read 2:31 am

Sighing for the fourth time this past minute, you click your phone screen off and toss the device to the other side of your bed. The contemplating is pointless – the both of you know that you'll be at his door within the next twenty minutes.

Was breaking up with Sunghoon a smart decision? Yes. Just one look back at your relationship makes you feel sick right now. The constant partying, the never subsiding jealousy, the permanent uncertainty whether you're gonna find a girl in his bed sheets each time he didn't answer his phone for more than two hours. If Park Sunghoon's toxicity could be graded – it would be 3. Severe significant but not immediately life-threatening.

So, including all of these facts, was becoming his fuck buddy a logical step? Well, sex is never about logicality anyways, right? It's his personality and cockiness that you dropped without any hesitation – his bedroom skills on the other hand... Yeah, it was not so easy to give up. There isn't a bone in your body that's able to resist this temptation.

see u in 10

As your fingers quickly type the reply to his text, you blindly snatch your car keys from the cupboard and head out the front door, exposing your half-naked skin to the cool autumn air. You didn't bother dressing in anything else besides this ridiculously oversized t-shirt you always sleep in, knowing well that the second your foot meets the threshold of his messy dorm, all of your clothes will be gone before you even get the chance to say hi.

And that's exactly what happens. You text him a quick i'm here. He opens the door and with a lopsided smile pulls you into a rough kiss. You shut the door behind you two with your foot. He pushes you against them and tugs the hem of your shirt up, only to toss it somewhere on the floor.

"Wow, you came here quick. Must be a new record or somethin'," he teases breathily into your lips, working his teeth down your jawline to your neck. "Someone must've missed me a lot, huh?"

"Shut up and just get to it," you mutter with a roll of your eyes as your hands greedily roam over his bare chest. "You always talk too much."

Sunghoon only chuckles, the sound vibrates through his chest as he closes the gap between you two and kisses you hard on the lips again. It's almost automatic, how he taps the back of your thighs, the way you jump, the way he catches you before smacking a stinging slap on your ass, he carries you and sits the both of you on his well worn couch.

"Well, you know what to do now, don't you, baby girl?" He grins widely, legs fixing into a man spread as he looks at you pointedly.

With a roll of your eyes, you place your hands on his toned shoulders and push your body forward until your chest is pressed to his.

"Stop. Talking."

Before his big mouth gets the chance to yap again, you roll your hips against his growing bulge, effectively shutting him up. He leans his head backwards, resting it on the headrest as he watches you with a cocky smile. He crosses his arms behind his head, making his muscles flex prominently. You scoff at his obnoxiousness although the throbbing between your thighs increases annoyingly.

You move your hips steadily, quickly finding the right rhythm. Sunghoon groans and lowers one of his hands to your hip, spreading his big palm on your hot skin. The rough feeling of your lacy panties rubbing onto your clit makes you bite your lip to stifle a moan.

You lean forward and pull his face to yours with a firm grip on the hair at the back of his head. The kiss is all spit and teeth – just as messy as your relationship, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Lips swollen and flushed faced, you circle your hips faster, rubbing yourself against him. It doesn't take much longer until his gray sweatpants are messed up with the dark stain of precum and you smirk at the sight of the prominent tent in his pants.

"Are you gonna cum? So soon? Looks like you must've missed me even more," you tease while nibbling on his bottom lip.

You watch him raise his eyebrow at your cheeky behavior and then he clicks his tongue. "Nah, that's enough. Don't know where'd you get this idea that you can speak to me like that. Thought you'd know better by now."

With one firm movement, he grabs your face in between his fingers and squishes your cheeks together, not even a bit of tenderness in his touch. You fail to keep your moan inside this time.

"Open up," he orders and taps at your puckered lips with his thumb. You obey without a second thought in your mind and part your smushed mouth as wide as you can. Sunghoon pulls your chin down roughly and spits right on your tongue. The act is so lewd, so fucking hot, it makes you subconsciously roll your hips over his clothed bulge and whimper at the commotion. Sunghoon scoffs at your drastically changed demeanor. "Filthy fucking whore. Couldn't ever dominate me properly for the life of you."

And then he flips you around. His strong hand pushes your chest flush to the couch, pressing on the arch of your back as your face gets shoved in the same cushions that you bought him once you had first started dating. To make this rusty place look actually inhabited, you told him then. Now, you drown in their scent as they nearly cut off your breathing supplies.

You can hear some ruffles coming from behind you which you can only assume is the sound of Sunghoon's sweats hitting the floor before his tall frame hovers over your back. A yelp leaves your lips as his hand suddenly comes forward and slaps your ass with a loud smack. His fingers skid over the black lace of your panties before pushing them to the side and dipping two of his digits between your weeping folds.

"Would you look at that? You're fucking dripping for me, baby. Some things never change, huh?" He teases ruthlessly but before you can bite back, your breath gets stolen away as you feel his hot, hard tip brushing past your entrance. You moan loudly, fingers clenching on the cushion tightly as he wraps an arm under your stomach and props your ass higher, only to bully his cock into you until he bottoms out. "Now, let the show begin."

A shiver runs down your spine when he pulls out of you completely before plummeting his length back into you again. It burns slightly and Sunghoon knows that, but with the lewd moans you're letting out he thinks that, surely, you must be a little bit masochistic.

He pushes you even deeper into the couch and relishes in the wheezed gasps of breath you're huffing out as he fucks into you. His hips work quick and sharp, snapping into you from behind and making your clammy skin clap with each contact. He fits just so damn perfectly in between your folds as they clamp around him so deliciously, making him let out grunt after grunt.

"H-harder, Sunghoon."

Your whine comes out muffled and even though your ex could hear you loud and clear, he purposefully slows his movements down and leans over to you closer, making his dick bury itself even deeper inside you and causing your eyes to roll back momentarily.

"What was that, princess? Didn't quite catch that."

You can practically hear the smirk that's surely plastered on his lips but you're too swallowed up in the pleasure to let it rub on your dignity anyhow. You only throw your hips backwards and whine louder for him, fueling up his already too big ego. "Fuck me harder. Please."

"Ah," Sunghoon lets out a short chuckle, then pulls away from you again. "Well, because you asked so nicely..."

Your eyes roll back again from how well he's fucking you, your words now meddled all together as he pounds you into the mattress. Without the slightest effort, he hits that gushy spot inside of you over and over again, just like he's done dozens times before, and still making you writhe in his grip like a prude. One that you, most definitely, are not.

Your teeth sink into the cushion as you try and muffle your borderline pornographic moans, in attempt to spare his neighbours the same shit show that have to endure every week. With the feeling of his large frame hovering above you, bare bodies hitting each other with every of his thrusts, you find yourself coming even sooner than you expected.

You moan and whine and jolt in his arms from where he still has you pressed down.

"That's it, baby. Fuck, just like that," he pants, hands sprawled on your ass and caressing the soft flesh before he spreads your cheeks a little further apart, watching his cock disappear in between your throbbing walls. Sunghoon groans. "Fuuuuck, look at you. Such perfect pussy. My perfect girl. No one will ever fuck you as well as I do."

Clenching your fists on the cushions, you pant as well. "Shut the fuck up. I'm not yours. We broke up for a reason, asshole," you scoff. "Thought you'd remember such unforgettable afternoon."

Sunghoon barks a laugh from above you before twisting your hair around his palm and tugging your head up until your back is pressed flat to his chest.

"Still so snarky even after I just blew your brains out. Guess I'll just have to fuck this attitude outta you once again. Gonna make sure you can't walk tomorrow, yeah?"

You don't even have it in you to bite back as he instantly starts pistoning into you, deep and rough, without waiting for your first high to cool off even slightly.

"A-ah, Hoon, w-wait," you mewl, growing on your pitch, clawing at his arm that's wrapped around your waist and prevents you from moving away. You clench your eyes tightly. "Too fast! Slow down."

He huffs, tugging your hair even harder to bite at your jawline as you arch your neck. "Nah, I don't think so. You're gonna stay still and take what I give you."

His hips are unforgiving. Your brain turns off as he plummets into you, only thing you're capable of doing is letting out a small ah, yes or please every couple seconds.

Nothing but white noise is surrounding you now. His heavy and so fucking full cock splits you in half and makes you, quite literally, see stars. You let him manhandle you like some rag doll, taking every inch of his dripping length.

"Cat's got your tongue now, little girl?" Sunghoon teases, leaving a slap on your ass again. He chuckles. "You're squeezing me like some fucking virgin."

Your thighs are a mess of his precum and your slick release. You know you're about to cum again, it's inevitable with the way he's fucking into you. Absentmindedly, one of your hands loosen its grip on his arm and slides down to your aching pussy to try and relieve the pent up tension a little quicker. But before your fingers ever make contact with your swollen clit, you feel a sharp sting on your palm as Sunghoon slaps it away.

"We ain't playing like that, sweets," he scowls as he untangles his hand from your hair and lets you drop limp on the couch again.

It's insane how his body still reacts to you, even after seeing you in the exact same position so many times before. He can barely keep himself from cumming inside you here and there as he watches you squirm beneath him, fingers curling and gripping on first better object as you moan and cry out his name like a mantra.

He doesn't let you rest for much longer though. He leans forward, strong, veiny arms gripping your wrists before pulling them back towards him and lifting you up again. That position only enables you to feel him even better, closer and deeper, and with one, two, three more thrusts of his hips you're coming again with a moan that sounds very much like a sob on your lips.

Sunghoon grunts in your ear and bites his lip harshly. He's always been weak for you. Never was able to keep his hands away from you. So as all of his senses are overwhelmed, overstimulated with you and you only, he grabs you by your waist and flips you on your back quickly.

He finally gets to look at your fucked out face. Your teary eyes and flushed cheeks make him curse under his breath as his dick throbs even harder. With a strangled groan he pulls on your chin and opens your mouth widely. He watches with amazement as you eagerly capture his long fingers with your lips and suck them without giving it much thought.

"Fuck, wait–," he lets out a long moan, quickly pulling his digits out of your swollen mouth. "Open up a little wider, baby."

And you do so, mind hazy as he hovers above you and slowly pushes his thick cock between your parted lips. Your eyes roll into your skull as he throat fucks you without giving you as much as a warning, hand pressing on the front of your neck and making you gag around him instantly.

"Shh, just a little more," he coos breathlessly and bottoms out in your mouth, pelvis touching your wet lips. "You can take it for me, can't you?"

You choke and moan at the same time. Tears stream down your cheeks and mix with your saliva as they drip down your chin. It's so messy, so filthy, yet you genuinely don't recall when was the last time you felt this heavenly. His cock suffocates you as he fucks into your mouth roughly, moaning and grunting in the process.

Both of your heads are spinning, Sunghoon finally cums, hips stuttering, and releases thick ropes of cum down your throat. You swallow and slurp around him, trying to gather as much of it as you can without letting it go to waste. The familiar salty, slightly bitter taste hits your palate just right and you suck him clean from every single drop.

With a heavy sigh, Sunghoon slumps down on the couch right next to you, hand traveling to your bare thigh and caressing it with his fingertips. You lay in your place for a while, catching your breath and collecting your thoughts as you subconsciously lean into his touch.

This scene is nothing new – the both of you being way too touchy, way too soft after fucking each other's minds away. It's not new, the way you stand up and push him back on the couch as he tries to follow you to the bathroom to shower with you. You wash yourself quickly, then steal another one of his shirts per usual.

You walk back to the living room where Sunghoon stayed and the question he asks is as old as time.

"Stay the night?"

And, like you always do, you send him a mocking smile and grab the keys from the cupboard where you left them an hour ago.

"Bye, Hoon," you say and twist the door handle.

And he calls after you, not a week where he's been wrong, "See you next Friday, baby."

𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯' 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢, 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?

𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯' 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘵, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦

𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘹, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵?

taglist: @luvkpopp @yannew @hoonxclsvly @jongseongslvr @beomgyusonlywife @starggukies @koizekomi @ineedsomezzz @starl1ghtsinthedark @enhastolemyheart

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @dazzlingligth @seungiesluv

note: let's goooooo 🫶 first chapter posted 🥳 i have no idea when will i publish the other ones but i'll try my best to do it as soon as possible!! this was actually so fun to write, so i hope you guys liked it as well 🤸 all the feedback is greatly appreciated babes!! 🩷

[rosemaze-reveries]

During an interview, the manor guests suddenly get a question about you.

this is def an experimental format!! i got this idea while reading the character letters. in the POV of an unknown interviewer (not reader). reader uses they/them.

🔗⚰️📰🔮❤️‍🩹💉🌪️✂️🍀🩰🔫🪡🤹🧲🦋🐍

Q. Could you describe your relationship with (Y/N)?

🔗 Ada - "Yes, that's my lover. I would say our relationship falls within the typical scope of that sort of thing. Of course, I believe we share something special, but everyone does when they're in love, don't they?" She covers all her bases in one decisive breath, leaving little room for me to comment.

⚰️ Aesop sits perfectly upright, fingers threaded at his knees. His eyes drift to the side and he seems to begin speaking mid-thought. "I had... cautioned myself not to upset their perception of me," he explains. "But they pried, and stayed, regardless of what they found... For that, I'm grateful."

📰 Alice has kept a sharp eye on me the entire time, but it's at this question that she drops the formalities. "I wasn't aware you would be prying into my personal affairs. Where did you learn that name?" Her frankness pins me in place. For some reason, I end up apologizing.

🔮 Eli can't help a sheepish smile from blooming across his face. "Well, truthfully... I don't use this term lightly, but they might be the love of my life." He has been consistently grounded with his responses, so I'm surprised to catch him flustered, however subtle it is. Personally, I'm touched.

❤️‍🩹 Emil considers for a moment. He doesn't meet me in the eye, instead pinning his gaze on nowhere in particular. A faint smile ghosts his lips. After a while, he answers, simply, "Safe."

💉 Emily's hands are folded neatly on her lap. At the mention of that name, her shoulders tense, but she otherwise maintains her composure. "Someone I trust." Her answer is vague and cautious, but acceptable. I'll try to uncover a deeper meaning behind that 'trust'.

🌪️ Ithaqua - "Mine." He is curt and to the point. Yours? I echo, hoping he'll elaborate. His head tilts to the side, and while I can't see the face behind his mask, a sense of dread suddenly overcomes me. I decide not to press further.

✂️ Jack stretches out his hand of blades, flexing each finger in front of him. I can't deny the cold sweat that drips down my spine just by being in his presence. "May I respond with a question of my own?" he says to me. "Suppose a butterfly loses its way, and winds up caught in a spider's web. Wouldn't you agree that the more it writhes and struggles, the more exhilarated the spider becomes?" I don't have the courage to hear out the rest of this analogy.

🍀 Lucky - "I've always been known as a pretty lucky guy, but the luckiest day of my life was when I met them! I remember it was the—" He drags me down a long-winded story about their life together. I get the idea. Eventually I'm forced to cut him off.

🩰 Margaretha twirls a curl of hair, a meek blush dusting her cheeks. "Have you ever been in love before? You're never prepared for the magic of it all. I feel a new rush with them everyday. I know, realistically, all good things come to an end, so I tried to remind myself to expect the worst, but they've proven over and over that... I'll never feel safer than in their arms." After rambling for some time, a look of surprise flashes across her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go off like that. Oh, but I've just never met someone who feels so much like true love before."

🔫 Martha doesn't miss a beat. "Sorry, I don't know anyone by that name." I look down to double-check the name written in her file. Her watchful gaze follows my line of sight. Are you sure? I try. "Must've been some confusion somewhere," she insists. The next day, I realize all my files on her and (Y/N) have gone missing.

🪡 Matthias - "Wh-What?" he starts, but keeps going before I can repeat the question. "Oh, uh, an ally, I guess." Well, I gathered that much. When I press for more details, his head sinks low, fingers grasping at the armrest. "I don't know what they saw in me. Was it out of pity?"

🤹 Mike's eyes light up and he blinds me with a contagious smile. "(Y/N)'s a sneaky one, and I mean it—they've got me under the trickiest spell of all. Guess what happens every time I think about them?" Egged on by his grin, I take the bait. You get lovesick? I guess. Suddenly, he tosses a handful of butterfly glitter in my face. "I get butterflies!" Very funny, I sigh, exasperated with these carnies. Why did he have that on hand in the first place?

🧲 Norton leans back in his chair, scowling. "What's that got to do with anything?" He snaps a couple times in my face, urging me to "stay on topic." It's hard to say if this question struck a nerve, as he's been uncooperative for most of this interview, but my suspicions point me to prod further. After all, it'd have been much easier if he just said he didn't know them.

🦋 Vera's face contorts into a leery, hostile glower. "Why do you ask that?" Before I can say anything to mitigate the rising tension, she catches herself, and her expression softens slightly. "I'm sorry. That's... someone quite dear to me, so your question took me by surprise."

🐍 Yidhra's follower goes pale, clearly unnerved. "She won't answer that," she tells me through shallow breaths. "Th-This isn't my place to say, but I'd advise you not to involve yourself with that person." As if on cue, I get a sensation I can only describe as a hand slowly wrapping around my neck. It disappears when I move to scratch it. Must've been my imagination.

Part 2

[mydearzero]

bday sex w/ spencer?

thanks for the request! ♡♡

Hunger | Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: Penelope has decided enough is enough and throws Spencer a small birthday celebration. Your only duty was to pick up the cake. How could you have known the bakery would give you the wrong one? It's the first time you notice something off about Spencer. He has this look in his eyes you couldn't place, nor shake.

Contents: NO Y/N, fem!Reader, BAU!reader, co-workers, friends to lovers, smut, oral sex (f rec), fingering, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie, fluffy really, If I missed any warnings please tell me!

3.7K words

take a shot every time I say 'look'. This is also the second fic in a row where I mention he keeps his socks on during sex. idk why. he just seems the type, I suppose. it wasn't a conscious choice I made, it just happened - nik

"And you're picking up the cake, right?" Penelope's voice flooded through the speakers of your car. You chuckled at her frantic behaviour. 

"Yes, Penelope. I'm on my way to Spencer's now. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it." 

After Spencer hadn't properly celebrated his birthday several years in a row, she insisted on throwing him a small party. She'd dragged you along in her shenanigans. 

Which is why there was currently a nondescript white box on the passenger seat of your car. You hadn't dared to open it, even to have a peek. Penelope would have your head if it spoiled in any way.

"Don't you dare drop it! I mean it!" She hung up after her empty threat. 

You drove into the parking garage and got out of the car. You walked around and picked up the cake with the utmost care, placing it on the roof and closing the door. You held the cake with both hands and took it to the apartment building. 

Penelope met you at the door, taking the box from your hands, putting it in the fridge and ushering you to 'Go sit somewhere and act normal!' 

"Calm down, Garcia. Derek's keeping him until at least 19:30. You'll be fine," JJ interjected. You turned to her, sharing a knowing look. If there was anything to love about Penelope, and believe me, there was a lot, then it was her complete devotion and commitment to make her friends happy. 

She got everything ready in the living room. Balloons, garlands, presents, the entire childhood dream. Derek gave Garcia a heads-up that they were bound to arrive any minute now. 

You walked into the kitchen and got the cake out of the fridge. You grabbed some plates, forks and knives and took everything to the living room. 

Spencer wasn't an idiot. He knew when Morgan was holding him hostage from his own apartment, his coworkers must've been planning something for his birthday. 

"Oh, I wonder what we'll find when we open the door," Spencer's joking voice could be heard through the door. The sound of keys entering the lock brought a large smile to your face. 

When he finally got to walk in the door, his suspicions were confirmed. 

The duo joined everybody eagerly awaiting the birthday boy. Penelope looked like she could implode from the excitement. You were sure that if you had enhanced vision, you'd be able to see her vibrate on the spot.

"Surprise!" 

Spencer was grinning from ear to ear. Derek clapped him on the back and guided him into the group. 

Penelope sat Spencer on the grandpa chair she'd situated in the middle of the room, placing a party hat on his head. She'd insisted on them. Even Hotch could not look stoic and rigid with the polka-dotted cone placed on his head. 

You walked from the commotion to go put the candles on the cake. You opened the candles, looked for the lighter and finally breached the seal on the white box holding the cake. The sight before you had you perplexed.

Happy Birthday Sexy!

Right. The hot pink cake with white frosting was most certainly not the one intended for Spencer. You let out an uneasy laugh and placed the candles anyway. Cake is cake, I guess. 

And it's not wrong. 

You lit the candles and walked over just as the others started belting their hearts out. Spencer cringed awkwardly like you're supposed to when people sing you Happy Birthday. You sought panicked eye contact with Penelope but to no avail. She was busy snapping pictures of the birthday boy from every angle. 

Spencer locked eyes with you as you set the cake down in front of him. Derek barked a laugh, obviously the first one to notice the mishap. "Way to be bold, mama!" 

Spencer gave him a confused glance before turning his eyes to the cake, mouth opening and closing a couple of times due to a loss of words. 

"Well, they do say "Aging like fine wine' for a reason," Emily snorted.

"What!? That's not the right cake!" Penelope exclaimed, turning to you. You gave her an apologetic expression, shrugging your shoulders. 

"They must've given me the wrong one at the bakery! I didn't want to mess it up, so I left the box closed. I'm sorry, Penelope. But hey, I'm sure it'll taste just fine." 

You cut into the cake and dealt out the slices. You contemplated giving the slice reading just the word 'Sexy' to Spencer and gave in. It couldn't do any harm. You brought it to him with a crude attempt at a wink. The man of the hour turned red, if only slightly. He took the cake, thanked you and tentatively tasted the frosting, eyes lighting up in delight. 

You swiped a finger through the frosting, putting it in your mouth and tasting it. You nearly had to stop yourself from wincing. My God, that's sweet. But Spencer seemed to love it, which was the crucial part. 

You caught his gaze, finger still resting between your lips. Your heart skipped a beat as an unreadable expression on his face before he ironed it out with a smile, raising his plate in a toast. You raised yours back, but your heart wasn't in it. 'What the hell was that?' You wondered as you took a proper bite of the overly sweet cake. 

Spencer's gaze had been on your face, his eyebrows furrowed in what seemed like worry. His mouth had been slightly agape. But it was his eyes that struck you. His pupils were dilated as they seemed to be filled with contemplation. 

The expression stuck with you. It wasn't one you'd seen before, not from Spencer. You tried to come up with the right words to describe it throughout the party. 

Emily handed you a drink, toasting to another year with Spencer. 

Intrigued? 

Penelope whispers in your ear, asking what you'd gotten Spencer as a present. 

Calculating, maybe? 

Rossi tells a life story, wishing Spencer a bright future with many similar experiences. 

It was almost ambitious. Or eager, perhaps. 

Whatever it was, it was burned into your brain. What made it so compelling was that Spencer clearly hadn't wanted you to see it, seeing how he schooled his expression the second he'd realized you were watching. 

You nursed your drink as your coworkers started trickling out of the apartment one by one. You shamelessly watched Spencer as he was engrossed in an animated conversation with Penelope. Emily took a seat next to you, following your gaze to the enthusiastic duo. 

She didn't have to speak a word. Years as colleagues and friends were bound to create an implicit form of communication. Add a bunch of profilers, and much went unspoken. You sighed and leaned against the cushions. 

"I don't want to hear it, Prentiss." 

She laughed fondly. "I'm just saying, I'm gonna be driving Penelope home soon. Just humour me and talk to him about it." 

"There's nothing to talk about," you dismissed. You looked down at your drink, refusing to meet her eye. 

"You really haven't been present at all tonight. What's got you in your head?" Emily put a hand on your shoulder. 

"It's nothing to be worried about, Em. I'm just overthinking. He gave me this look earlier, and it's frustrating me that I can't figure out what it meant," you shrugged. 

Emily looked contemplative. "He's been watching you, you know. Not just tonight. It's been a while since I've noticed, though he's really ramped it up." 

"What do you mean?" You wondered genuinely. 

"I don't know..." Emily started. "He just has this look on his face when he thinks nobody's watching. Believe me, you can ask JJ about it. She's seen it, too. We've talked about it." 

"What kind of look?" You asked, curious if it could've been the same thing you spotted earlier tonight. 

"I can't really describe it. I'd almost call it... Greed? Maybe? It's a bit off-putting if you ask me. It's only you, though." Emily shrugged, clearly holding back on her explanation. She seemingly weighed her options before continuing. 

"You want to know what I think, profiler to profiler?" Emily finally broke. You urged her to continue. 

"Objectively speaking, and only looking at the facts, I think it can only be described as hunger." The tone of her voice implied that it wasn't a silly implication she was making for the fun of it. 

"Hunger?" You asked, glancing at Spencer from the corner of your eye. 

"Yeah, hunger. And not the food kind." 

You choked on your drink at the implication. "Are you out of your mind? We're at his house, Emily!" You whisper-shouted. 

"Yeah, well, whether I tell you here or at the office, the jet, or any other place, the man looks at you like he's starved. You have desire, and then you have this. It's concerning, really."

Of all the things it could've been, hunger wouldn't have been your first guess. Emily sure picked a convoluted way of telling you he undressed you with his mind on the daily, according to her.  

You panicked a little when Emily got up from the couch, asking Penelope if she was ready to go home. You glared daggers at her. Don't leave me here with him! Not after what you said. 

You could make your exit now, but you'd seem too eager to 'have an out' if you went with them. 

Spencer thanked Penelope generously for the party. He was genuinely appreciative of all the thought and effort put into it. You bid your goodbyes to the girls, and with that, you were alone with Spencer. 

"Hi," he spoke softly, sitting opposite you on the couch. 

"Hey," you replied, laughing a little. You took a sip of your drink, which had gone flat. You put it on the table and turned back to Spencer. There it was again, the look. 

He observed every crevice of your face as you did his. Much like with Emily, your communication with Spencer often went unspoken. But you couldn't read him, and it bothered you. 

"What's with that look?" You finally dared to ask, ignoring Emily's implication. 

His eyebrows furrowed. "What look?" 

"The one you gave me just now. And earlier, after I gave you your cake. According to Emily, it's not the first time." 

"I don't know what you're talking about." He didn't meet your eye, opting to pick at the threads of the couch. It was a lame attempt at deflection.

"Don't bullshit me, Spencer. You look like you want to eat me alive." 

Spencer bit his lip and seemingly calculated every possible outcome of the conversation. He shook his head in defeat, toying with his fingers. You awaited his answer, tension rising in your stomach.

"I guess that's one way to put it," he finally sighed, meeting your gaze. His eyes were intense. After his admission, you finally found the correct adjective.

Lust. 

Without a thought, you threw your body forward, putting your hands on the side of his face and bringing your lips to his. He kissed you back with a sense of desperation. Your hands went up to his hair, tugging experimentally. A low groan met your ears as Spencer pulled away. 

"Are you 100% sure about this? I don't think I can go back to how things used to be if we continue," Spencer admitted, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. You leaned against it and closed your eyes, slowly nodding. 

"Yeah, Spencer. I want this, want you." He searched your expression for doubt or uncertainty, but only found conviction. 

He nodded. "Okay. Okay, lie back," he motioned to the armrest behind you. You furrowed your brows in confusion. Spencer noticed your questioning face and ran his fingers over your scalp, moving to speak into your ear. "So I can eat that pretty pussy of yours." 

Your breath hitched, scrambling to lie back as he'd instructed. Spencer's hands made quick work of your bottoms, leaving you exposed. You brought a hand to your face and closed your legs in embarrassment. 

"Hey, none of that. Let me see you," Spencer urged. You silently complied, opening your thighs and letting Spencer rest between them. He let out a soft moan at the sight of you already dripping. 

"Gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous." Spencer complimented before running two fingers through your folds and collecting the fluid. He held them up, glistening in the dim light. He brought them up to your mouth. You didn't need any instructions, hesitantly opening up and sucking them in. 

Spencer groaned at the sensation of your tongue swirling around his fingers, feeling his cock quickly come to life after having been half-hard all night. You sighed in satisfaction at the tent forming in his slacks. 

"Couldn't think straight when I saw you try that icing. Looked so good sucking on your finger like that," Spencer revealed. So that's what the look had been for. 

He took his fingers from your mouth and brought them back down, pushing both inside without further preparation. He pumped them a couple times, trying to find the right angle. A low moan fell from your lips when he found it. Spencer grinned, adding his other hand to rub at your clit. 

"I think this is my new favourite look on you," he murmured. He moved his body back on the couch, bringing his face between your legs. He placed a string of small pecks on your inner thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. 

You couldn't help but exclaim when his tongue finally licked an exploratory stripe between your folds. "Shit, Spencer!" 

He ate you out like a man starved, gazing up through his lashes to watch your face contort in pleasure. Your hands searched for something to steady yourself, finally finding their resting place in his mop of gorgeous curls. 

When he sucked harshly on your clit, your fingers clenched instantly, tugging at his hair harshly. "Fuck, Spencer, oh my God, don't stop." 

You felt him moan against your clit, head tilting towards your grip. He continued licking and sucking every good spot while you realized he enjoyed having your fingers yanking at the messy strands.

"Hmm, just as sweet as that cake, if not more." The feeling of his moans against you was a foreign, albeit welcome, one. You quickly felt yourself get closer, tugging his hair and pulling him impossibly close. You needed more.   

"Fuck, Spencer. If you don't stop, I'm gonna come," you let him know. Spencer had a devilish smile, increasing his speed. He added a finger back inside and curled it just right. 

"Shit, just like that. Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged. 

"Come for me," Spencer spoke, intent on having you finish on his face. You felt your toes curl and legs tense. Spencer's head was the only thing keeping them open. 

"Spencer!" You moaned as you rode out your high on his tongue. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. Your legs felt numb as Spencer got up from between them. 

"You're wearing too many clothes," he decided, helping you tug your shirt over your head. 

"Well, what about you? You're fully dressed, Pretty Boy," you motioned towards his body. He shrugged and took off his vest before unhurriedly unbuttoning his shirt. You put your head on the armrest as you enjoyed the show. He smiled at your antics, humming Marvin Gaye's ' Let's Get It On' before carelessly throwing his shirt to the floor. 

He continued humming the song as he undid his belt. You bit your lip, raising an eyebrow at him to continue. He shook his head as he chuckled, tugging his pants down. You smirked at the sight of the tent in his black boxers. 

"You're not gonna take your socks off?" You looked towards his feet, clad in one hot pink and one neon green sock. 

"Shut up, my feet get cold easily." Spencer pleaded. You held up your hands in mock defence. 

You watched as his hands reached for the hem of his boxers. You stopped him, sitting up and hooking your fingers under the elastic. You looked up at him as you slowly tugged them down, freeing his cock. It was achingly hard, precum already collecting at the tip. He removed the boxers and softly pushed your back against the soft cushions. 

He leaned over you, putting his hands beside your head. He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on your lips. He grinned, and you felt love surge through your body at the admiration on his face. 

"Do you want to know what I wished for when I blew out my candles?" He asked, placing kisses down your jawline. 

"If you say you wished for me, I'm gonna have to get all the vegans out of your vicinity because that's so chees- Oh, fuck" Spencer cut your joke off by sucking on your neck, under your ear. 

"Hmm, I guess I won't tell you, then," Spencer threatened, reaching behind your back to undo your bra. He took the straps off your shoulders and down your arms, throwing the bra in the same direction he'd thrown his shirt. 

"No, tell me. What did you wish for," you urged. Spencer looked down, admiring your figure.

"This, you, under me, to be specific. Thought it would've made a very nice sight, and I was definitely right," he grinned, softly kneading your breast. He placed another kiss on your lips, and you were convinced you could get drunk on just that. 

Spencer bent further down, finally bringing your hips together. He ground down, and you winced, still sensitive from your orgasm. It felt too good, though. To finally have him where you wanted him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought his lips to your roughly, kissing him with desperation. 

Spencer reciprocated, grinding his hips and moaning into your mouth. You pulled away to speak. "Please, Spence. Need you inside." 

"Protection?" He questioned, moving his mouth back to your neck and sucking feverishly. You shook your head. "Don't care. Need you now." 

"Good, because I don't have any in the house." Spencer groaned, taking his cock in his hand and lining himself up with your entrance. He pushed the tip inside, and you had to take a deep breath before he continued. 

"Shit, Spence. So big. Fuck, you're really full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Hmm, there's more where that came from," Spencer joked, groaning when he bottomed out. He allowed you to readjust, not being used to having anything his size inside of you. You brought your hands to his shoulders, fingernails gradually digging into his skin when you nodded at him to move. 

"Feel so good around me, f-fuck," Spencer moaned, closing his eyes. He slowly started moving. His hips snapped forwards, sending his cock deep inside of you. 

"Oh, fuck, oh my God," you moaned deeply.

"Perfect fit," Spencer sighed. "Like you were made just for me." His pace picked up as desperation set in. 

"J-just for you, Spence," you agreed. You wrapped your legs around his waist. The new angle made you throw your head back against the couch. 

Spencer trailed a hand down to your clit, rubbing in tandem with his thrusts. You wrapped your arms back around his neck and tugged him close, desperate to feel his lips again. You could understand how people got addicted if this is what it felt like all the time. You wanted to spend the rest of eternity with his mouth on yours. 

"So pretty. Had to have you. You've been driving me crazy for months," Spencer's voice was strained with effort as he spoke. 

"What do you think about me, doc? When you kept looking at me like that, kept finding subtle ways to touch me. I was going insane." 

Spencer smiled as the movement of his hips sped up. Your moans got higher in pitch. His breathing became laboured, losing himself in the pleasure. 

Moans of "So good," and "Fuck," joined your name in falling off his lips repeatedly. If there was any sound you could be met with in heaven, it would be Spencer moaning your name in pure bliss. 

"O-Oh, Spencer, please," you begged, unsure what for. You just needed more of him. Needed him closer. 

"Fuck, oh my, fuck-" Spencer sighed. His pace was frenzied, cock feeling so fucking good. 

"I-I'm close- Spencer," you informed him, eyes squeezing shut. The hand on your clit increased it's speed. You couldn't believe you were so close to coming so soon after your first orgasm. 

"Wanna cum inside you. Can I please cum inside you?" Spencer asked, groaning at the idea of you dripping with his cum. 

"Yeah, yeah, fuck. Please, cum inside me. Wanna feel you, shit, Spencer!" You moaned. 

 "O-oh," Spencer's hips stuttered as he exclaimed your name in a loud moan. The sensation of his cock pulsing sent you over the edge yourself, joining him in his climax. 

He thrust inside lazily a few more times, riding out his high, before slowly pulling out. You felt empty without him, grimacing at the loss of contact. Spencer leaned down and pecked your lips before getting off the couch and walking to the bathroom.  

He returned with a warm washcloth and a towel. He helped you clean up, all while kissing you everywhere he deemed fit. He ushered you to go pee, laughing at your wobbly legs. You threw a pillow at him for that. 

When you were both clean, he offered you a big, loose shirt to sleep in. You grinned at the implication. He hadn't even hesitated. Needn't even ask if you wanted to stay over. 

You tucked yourself under his cold sheets. He soon joined you, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you close. Spencer Reid, notoriously weird with any physical affection, seemed like an entirely different person once you allowed him to love you. And God, were you going to allow him to love you. 

"You know, it's still my birthday in Alaska," Spencer spoke when you were almost asleep. You snorted. "Good night, Spencer." 

"Good night." You could hear the smile in his voice.

[lookingformoondrop]

Yan!Andrew with his Reader who found out she's pregnant? Spoiler: She didn't want to have children.

Yan!Andrew Graves x Preg!Reader

TW: Unexpected pregnancy, hints at abortion, reader in captivity, manipulation, yandere Andrew, unwanted pregnancy

♡ Notes: I wrote this entire thing while on a train so you'll probably find a wild typo or error font somewhere here. I said in my last post that my next work would be a fluffy one, I lied. Sorry. Remember kids, practice safe sex, and dont act like Andy. Thank you so much for supporting me, anon! I appreciate all the requests and asks from you guys. <33

Andrew hummed as he removed his shoes and took off his coat.

Work was a drag, his boss was a dick, and his family was unbearable. But despite it all, he had you at the end of the day.

When he came home, he'd always hear your padded footsteps coming down the hall to greet him.

You'd wear one of his shirts or wear a cute outfit he'd pick out for you, all to make him happy.

He just loves you so much.

I mean, that's why he took you in the first place.

You had no idea who he was, only that he was a customer that came at odd times of the day in the cafe where you worked.

He could only guess how poor the pay must've been. How miserable you were... Yes, that's it.

As he watched you, he could spot the circles under your eyes, and he knew instantly that fate had brought you here, or maybe it was a cult summoning? Either way, you belonged with him. And he would bend heaven and earth to keep it that way.

Andrew blinked away his train of thought and looked up. He hadn't heard your footsteps.

That was unusual.

Andrew quickly slipped his bag to the ground and walked further into the house.

The kitchen was empty, minus the dishes and pots from last night's dinner that still remained untouched in the sink.

The living room was empty, minus the tissues scattered all over the floor, and the blankets that pooled the floor.

With his heart racing, he sprinted to the last room he hadn't checked. The bedroom.

He pushed the door open with haste; his eyes wildly searched the room.

The bed was unmade, and the sheets were shoved off the mattress, trailing onto the wooden floor.

As Andrew stepped further into the bedroom and he could hear the sound of the shower, and small sniffles coming from inside.

Andrew let out a sigh of relief, you hadn't left. You were still home with him. But now he had another problem to deal with.

He knocked on the bathroom door and heard a quick shuffle from the other side. The water turned off and Andrew flinched at the sound of objects crashing.

Then out you came, your eyes were red and your hair was messy, as if your fingers ran through them constantly.

You mustered a smile for Andrew, muttering out a weak 'welcome home' before Andrew grabbed your arms for inspection.

"What happened? What were you doing? Why were you crying?" He craned his neck out to try and look inside the bathroom, but you quickly closed the door.

"I was about to take a shower when you came home so uh, I dropped some bath products when I realized I hadn't greeted you." It was a horrible lie, really. You knew lying was one of Andrew's biggest pet peeves, even if he lied consistently himself.

"My little lamb, you're not making a lot of sense right now..." Andrew tried giving you a sweet smile, but the vein twitching in his forehead told you how he really felt.

His grip on your arms became tighter, and he leaned in closer, "I would like to know what you're keeping from me, please."

"I... I was crying," you cringed at how weak your voice sounded.

"Clearly, what else? Don't stall for time you don't have Y/N. Tell me who hurt you, I don't fucking care for the reason."

You peeled Andrew's hands off of you which was surprising giving his intense tone. You slowly walked to the bed and sat down, tracing the thread that was imbedded in your mattress. Your eyes lingered on the white sheets for a second too long.

Andrew followed suit, instead opting to go on his knees in front of you as to hold your hands.

He traced his name on your wrists with his finger and hummed a low tune, unremarkable at best, but it calmed your nerves.

"You are my bleeding heart, Y/N. Everything you feel, I long to taste, everything you love, I devour, and every secret you keep from me I savagely rip apart to find. What could you possibly keep from me, that I wouldn't find out in under a day?"

You kept still, refusing to meet Andrew's gaze.

"You have to promise you won't.. um, get mad." You chewed on your lip as you thought about your next words. The lump in your throat grew harder to swallow the more you thought about it.

How were you supposed to deliever such... news, when that news made you want to rip your hair out from stress.

"yeah, I promise. My little lamb, tell me, what is wrong?"

"I'm scared, Andrew." You looked up.

"Scared?" Answered Andrew, who let go of your wrists to instead settle around your waist.

He continued, "What could you possibly have to fear while with me? Are you afraid of someone?"

You shook your head, "no, well maybe, not yet I-" You took deep breaths, your chest felt like it was going to crack from the pressure.

"Not yet? What does that even mean?" Andrew furrowed his eyebrows and scrunched his nose, trying to make sense of it all.

"Andrew, do you know what day of the month it is?"

Andy groaned; his patience was begging to grow thin. "Y/N, I'm done playing this game with you. Are you trying to provoke me to extreme measures or something?"

"No! Just... answer the question. What day of the month is it?"

Andrew shrugged, "It's the first of the month. It's my mom's birthday. It's trash day. It's Monday. I don't fucking know what this has to do with our conversation, Y/N!?"

"No Andrew, just listen to me! Look, I usually get my period on the first of every month. But last month I didn't get my period."

"So?" Andrew looked at you with annoyance in his features.

"So.... I should have gotten my period last month, but I didn't. I'm not an irregular person and I've been here awhile so..."

Andrew's features stayed scrunched with confusion and annoyance as the words mulled over in his head.

Then it hit him.

Andrew fell back on his butt in shock, staring at you, your belly, and then back to you. The realization so big that his brain stopped the train to language station.

"You're pregnant?" He muttered.

You nodded, the tears that danced on your waterline finally falling. Your chest shook, and you gasped deep breaths, the pressure you had on your chest this morning, becoming ten-fold the weight as Andrew processed this information.

Your head hung low as the sobs shook your ribcage.

Without realizing it, Andrew got back up and sat beside you on the bed.

Wrapping his arms around your head and body, so that your body pushed against his chest.

A gigantic smile placed itself on his face, every bad thing that happened up until that point dispearred in a cloud. The only thing he could think about was the baby you were growing.

His baby.

Finally, Andrew let you go and grabbed your face, lifting it up so that he could place gentle kisses on your forehead. "My Y/N, thank you. This... fuck, I thought you were going to say something horrible, but this? Shit, this is the best news I could have ever heard, well maybe besides news of my sister's death or imprisonment but shit this is even better!"

His kisses became harder and more passionate. But he hadn't noticed the soul that had left your body. Instead, you looked at him terrified.

"But... Andrew, I'm not ready for this. I- I don't even think I'm old enough to be raising children, let alone birth one. This thing could rip me apart." Your breathing became quicker, the pressure on your chest becoming an unbearable pain.

You were so sure that Andrew would hate the idea of children, that he would have the initiative to take this thing out of you, but he was so happy, so much so he couldn't be bothered to notice your despair.

"Doesn't matter. You need to stop worrying about things that haven't even happened yet. You're pregnant, and that's all that matters. You're pregnant with my baby, and you will live through every moment." His smile never faltered as he leaned his head into the crook of your neck, humming a sweeter tune this time and rubbing your tummy.

"I'm not ready," you cried, shaking your head profusely.

Andrew looked up with a smile, trailing his forefinger down the bridge of your nose.

"Doesn't matter."

You held onto Andrew's hands as he leaned forward and embraced you. Sighing deeply into your chest.

"I love our little family. Don't you?"

Thank you for the ask!<3

[zygomantic]

Nanami comforting a sad/depressed fem reader after he comes home from work. (Had a horrible day/week and need any kind of comfort)

A/n: Honestly same. Always happy to provide comfort, thank you for your request! This is very short but it is what it is. Also, reader could be considered gender neutral.

You're not alone.

Synopsis: Your husband Nanami comes home from work and finds you crying on the couch. He helps you through it.

Content Warnings: Mentioned Depression, negative thoughts

You blankly stared at the TV, which by now had been running for multiple hours. You'd spent your hours flicking through channels and streaming services, hoping to find anything interesting to pass the time until your husband came home.

Your frustration grew the longer you searched. Why did this have to be so complicated? Fuck, it just added to the pile shit that didn't work like you wanted to. Your job was stressing you out and you knew the next months weren't going to be any more relaxed. Nanami was just as busy, mission after mission keeping him away from home. You missed him but didn't fault him for doing his job.

Since this morning you were feeling down, and though you'd struggled with depression in the past, it usually didn't creep up this fast or suddenly. You knew very well that you were still recovering and that recovery wasn't a linear process, but a small part of you felt disappointed in yourself for feeling like this again.

Or maybe you felt comfortable like this. It was so easy, so familiar. If you were really on the way back to depression, you didn't think you had any strength left to pull you out of it again and forcing Nanami to help you made you feel selfish. It wasn't his problem that your mind was broken and your thoughts shitty.

It was all too much and your nose started burning, then your eyes watered and you didn't bother stopping the tears as they escaped. A headache had begun to form in the back of your head and you just sobbed harder.

By the time a key turned in the front door lock your face was soaked with tears and your eyes were red and puffy. You must've looked horrible, because Nanami's eyes furrowed as he walked into the room and saw you. You hadn't even hear him call out your name when he entered, too absorbed in your thoughts.

Nanami didn't bother hanging up his jacket, just dropped it to the floor and immediately made his way over to you. His hand was on your back, rubbing soothing circles into it as he tried to figure out what was wrong. First, however, he needed you to breathe.

"Darling, can you hear me?" His voice must've registered somewhere in your mind because you nodded, despite having already forgotten what he asked. "Good," he said, continuing his comforting. "I need you to breathe, dear. You remember the box breathing, right?" Another nod. "Alright. Now breathe in for four," he instructed and you tried to follow, not counting the seconds but still trying. "Hold for four," you did, "and exhale for four. Now pause for four."

It became easier after the first minute and Nanami walked you through every second of it. Once you'd gotten your breathing back under control, new tears threatened to escape at the though of how much of a burden you were. Always making him take care of you like you're a child or baby, how embarrassing.

"Don't." You looked up at your husband in confusion. "I can tell when you're thinking poorly of yourself. Don't do that. Please."

Your voice was quiet as you answered. "Okay." You pulled your legs up under the blanked and curled up into a ball.

Nanami's hand was still rubbing your back. "Can you tell me what caused this? What's going on? "

"I'm sorry. Sorry." Tears streaked down your face and Nanami's warm, big hand swiped them away carefully.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. We all have our off days. I'm sorry yours had to be today." His voice was so deep, so comforting, almost like a light to cling to while the rest of the world was trying to drown you.

"Work's just been..." You trailed off, not really wanting to think about all the things you had to do and the insane amount of paperwork that had to filed until the end of the not to mention the coworker that-

"Stressful?" His voice ripped you out of your thoughts again. "I get what that's like. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I- just don't leave. Please. I don't want to go back to feeling like I did months ago. I can't- I-" Your throat closed up just speaking about theast time your depression hit you hard.

"I'm not letting you do this alone. I promise." His hand pulled you into his body for a hug and you melted into him. "I'm here for you. Always."

"Thank you." He almost didn't hear you, you were so quiet. "Thank you so much."

[captain-mj]

I’m on my hands and knees BEGGING you for a stripper au 🙇🙇🙇🙇

Of course!! I've been dying to make one of these!!

Soap should not be here. He's a college professor for fuck's sake. He makes decent money but it's the principle of the things. Why would he go to a strip club when he could go to the bar and actually go home with someone?

But it was what his friends had invited him to do and he went along with it.

He tried not to overthink his clothing or the chances of him seeing any of his students there.

Soap ordered a scotch and tried to find somewhere to sit. It was a mixed club with men and women. It seemed... a little seedy despite the more expensive feeling of the place. Something about the entire thing felt off. He brushed off his feelings, blaming Catholic judgement for it.

Chuy had amassed a group of men and women around him to listen to his cryptid facts. He occasionally passed them money so they were making something but they were also choosing to stay next to him.

Gaz was staring at Chuy, trying to understand how he managed to do that.

Alejandro had disappeared... somewhere.

Soap took a sip of his drink, liking it at least. He doubted it was anything too fancy but it did the job just fine.

Pretty people went past him. Some flirted or tried to get him to take a lap dance, but he wasn't interested. They were nice, but not really his type. Nor did he want to blow a bunch of money just for the sake of it.

Soap found a place to sit where he could watch the stage, trying to see where everyone had disappeared to.

There was someone his type. Tall. Dressed in black. Broad shoulders and burly chest. Makeup all around his eyes. Pretty eyeliner.

The man, Ghost if his name tag meant anything, looked more like a bouncer than a stripper. But he was shirtless with just a mask and tight pants and he was eyeing Soap.

Big doe brown eyes staring into him, silently asking if he wanted his attention.

Soap was very happy there was an ATM nearby. With a confidence that was very much faked, he motioned for him to come over.

Ghost walked over. He didn't bat his eyelashes or immediately straddle him. He just stood between Soap's legs and looked down at him, almost like he inconvenienced him.

Soap put a twenty in Ghost's pocket and that look melted away, replaced with something much nicer.

"You look lonely."

Fucking Brits. Of course he was British. That didn't change that Soap's body had a visceral reaction to his voice.

"It's cause I am. Come to give me some company?"

Ghost laughed at him. It made Soap shrink back and his cheeks flushed. If anything though, it made him a little harder in his jeans. "You're cute. Name?"

Soap looked down his body, admiring the hard muscle and the slightly softer stomach. His hands fidgeted. "Soap."

"You can touch. And my name is Ghost."

Soap was immediately all over him. He'd like to use his mouth but that would be a little much in such a public area.

It would occur to him in exactly six hours that one of the biggest rules about strip clubs is you don't touch the dancer. And that Ghost had not let anyone else touch him that night. That would be in six hours though and right now, he was just marveling at the scarring along Ghost's body.

They were impossible to see with the club lighting, but he could feel them under his fingertips. The texture similar to a scar he had on his hand from dropping a knife.

He squeezed his eyes tight and gripped Ghost's sides. Ghost's hand grabbed his chin and made him look up. Dark eyes inches from his face.

"You alright, love?"

Soap shoved more money into Ghost's hands. "How much for a private dance?"

"I don't usually do those."

Soap must've looked distressed because Ghost, the saint, took pity on him. "Fine. How much do you have?"

"Three hundred dollars."

"I'll give you an hour."

Soap nodded and followed him excitedly. He didn't miss Ghost's amused glance.

The man grabbed the pole, slowly spinning around it as he watched Soap sit down. "You're adorable."

Soap blushed more and dropped his money at Ghost's feet. "Going to lose the mask?"

"You don't want me to. Trust me." Ghost jumped up and spun faster, suspending himself and expose his chest more.

"You ugly under there?"

"Quite the opposite."

"Worried I'll fall in love with you?"

"Absolutely." Ghost spun around slowly and arched his back. "Can't have you following me home, vying for me attention."

Soap felt himself getting hard. His body moved with such fluidity and grace that it was hard to not think of how it would feel to be underneath him. To have Ghost grabbing his hips. Would he prefer to be on top or bottom? He was more than happy either way. As long as those fucking abs were pressed against him, he could live with it.

Ghost crossed over to him and straddled him. He was so much bigger. So much fucking bigger. "Your hands go below my belt and I'll get you banned."

"Yes, sir."

"I like sir."

"Anything you want, sir." Soap smiled at him and put his hands on Ghost's waist. He ground down on him, the pressure against his body making him half crazy. His hips jerked up and Ghost paused, glaring.

"Don't move."

Soap took a deep breath and nodded. Ghost started to move again, letting Soap get a good look on him. It was so easy to imagine less clothing. God, he'd bankrupt himself to have Ghost riding him like this. His pants had slid down to see his v-line.

Soap slid his hands further up and touched his throat. Ghost purred and pressed in harder. "You're a pretty guy, you know that?"

Soap blushed more. "Thank you, sir."

Ghost stood up and trailed his hands between Soap's thighs, so tempting. Was he actually going to?? To touch?? him?? He was hoping for a lot here but his hands were getting so close.

Gaz knocked quickly. "Hey, Johnny, we gotta go. Right now. We're getting kicked out. Alejandro flirted a little too much with his favorite stripper."

Soap felt his heart sink. "Wai-"

Ghost stood up and fixed his pants. "Oh. You're Vargas's friend?"

Soap cringed. "Ah. Is that a bad thing?"

"Get out."

Soap moped the entire night, being extra mean to Alejandro for ruining that for him.

"I think I just missed the love of my life."

"He was a stripper. He just wanted your money." Chuy pointed out. He was currently washing the phone numbers off his arm. All of them were glaring at him.

Soap went to bed and maybe cried a little. Just a little. He refused to be that heartbroken over a guy he met for five minutes. His dick was heartbroken though.

Fucking Vargas.

He couldn't blame him too much. It was Rodolfo he had been flirting with. Those two had been chasing each other for ages and now Alejandro just blew as much money on him as he could until he ran out and Rodolfo kicked him out for it.

Soap crawled out of bed that day and went to work. He passed all of his colleagues, still thinking of those dark eyes and gorgeous body.

"Professor MacTavish." One of his colleagues greeted him as he passed.

Soap froze and turned around. Dark eyes. Gorgeous body. Ginger hair.

Professor Riley, someone Soap barely interacted with, stood there. Cardigan wrapped around him. He wore a medical mask thanks to self proclaimed "hideous" scarring.

"Hi..."

Ghost looked at him. "Yes, MacTavish?"

"I..."

Ghost tilted his head, looking confused. "Something wrong?"

Soap shook his head. "No..."

Ghost nodded and turned away to keep making his tea.

[ellieslittleburrow]

🎄 Christmas time with Dean

Warnings : none

Pairings : Dean x sister!reader.

-------

Little old you had just woken up when the door to your room clicked shut.

You lifted your head to look out and then dropped it back against the pillo-

Ouch-

A fairly soft but painful-nonetheless- object collides with the side of your cheek, you slide your hand under the pillow, fingers rumming around for the pain inducing thin- a box?!

You pull it out and a smile flashes on your face. It's a little blue box. You open it and your eyes glint with absolute astonishment as a bluish translucent stone sends adrenaline pumping through your whole body. It's a fucking jeremejevite!!!!

-----

Softly opening the door after knocking, you peek into the room when a soft chuckle leaves your lips at the sight in front you, Classic old Dean while laying in belly, eyes you from the side.

"What do you want?" Carelessness laces his voice. He almost sounds annoyed that you're there. Fucker.

"What's this?" You hold the box up and he looks away, munching on his pizza.

"What's it look like? It's a stone for your dumbass brain. It'll help you get smart-"

"Shut up, Dean" you cut him off before heading over to the side of the bed. "Help me put it on." You sit on the edge as he gets up on his knees, shifting over to kneel right behind you.

You hand him the necklace. And all suddenly quiets down. It's not uncomfortable. It's just weighed with unspoken words. A prison of things to say but things that neither of you can say.

"How'd you find it?" You speak. "I've been looking for it for so long." You try to sound neutral as excitement slowly builds up again. This stone has been on your list for ages. It's one of the rarest-And- the fact that you have one in such a tiny and elegant little form just sent you over the moon. "How?!"

Dean humms. " A special girl deserves a special christmas present."

A smile creeps up on your face, even though Dean is not be able to see it. You couldn't even think of how much he had to pay to get you this stone. And although it's very small, the idea of it being there was more than enough to fill you up with absolute joy.

"Merry christmas, buddy." The hunter snaps you out of your thoughts, slowly wrapping his arms around your chest as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

It must've been a bit uncomfy, considering that he's pretty big even when kneeling down. But he still held you tight anyway.

He, probably, couldn't say it to you in your face, either, resorting to hiding behind you.

You decide to lighten up the mood for him. Change subjects before he gets too uncomfy. "I'm...sorry, Dean. I didn't g-"

"Don't worry about it, no need for any of that."

You turn around, cocking your head to the side. Dean confidently smiles. But you know him well enough. You can tell.

"I'm just fucking with you." The second those words are processed, a grin takes over Dean's face and he laughs, nervous and excited.

"You got me, little goose. Now where's my christmas present?" Your brother rubs his hands together eagerly, but he stops when devilish smirk appears on your face. He really thought it'd be that easy?

"Where's the fun in that? It's somewhere around the house." You turn on your heels, chest puffed up and triumphant. Gotcha' Dean. "Summon me when you find it. Merry Christmas, D."

------

I just wrote this reeeally quickly so i'm sorry if there are any incoherences. I'll make sure to reread it when i have the time. I hope yall enjoyed iit. Peace and kissies. ❤️❤️❤️🥀🥀🥀

[tasteleeknow]

Knife kink? 👀

18+ content. minors dni. knife play.

Minho is safe. It's one of the first feelings you'd had about him. He was walking comfort, gentle and soft spoken. Even when he got excitable, bouncy and a little loud, it would only take a gentle word and he'd calm—adjusting to your mood.

It's why you're completely relaxed when you hand him your small folding knife—the one you usually kept buried in your backpack—and ask him to help you with your dress.

He looks between you and the knife held closed in his hand, clearly confused.

"The zip is stuck," you explain, turning your back to him. "I need you to cut it."

"Cut... the dress?"

"Mm, please."

"I might be able to—"

"Just cut it, please. It's stuck and I wanna resuse the fabric for something else anyway."

He's quiet for a moment. You brush your hair over your shoulder, holding out of the way for him.

"What if I... cut you?" he murmurs. "There's scissors somewhere—"

"You won't."

You feel him step in closer, his breath ghosting over the back of your neck as he leans in to inspect where the zip is caught. "Don't move," he says finally.

You hum in acknowledgement. Scissors were boring.

Then he's pulling the fabric from your skin, creating as much distance between you and the place he'll cut as he can. You can't see how he does it, you don't need to. You're as calm as if he was brushing your hair. He's more careful with you than you'd ever be with yourself.

Then the fabric tears. You hear the knife clatter on the bench. A second later and his hands work to shred the dress until you're forced to hold the fabric onto your body with your hands across your chest.

"There," he whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder. "Good?"

You turn to face him. "No."

"No?"

"I need more help."

His eyes drop as you release the dress, letting it fall to your ankles. Then he's reaching for your underwear, tugging at the elastic and letting it snap back against your skin lightly. "You can't take these off yourself?"

You shake your head.

He huffs out a breathy laugh. "Why is that?"

"Because I want you to cut them off me."

He steps into you, threading his fingers into the hair at the back of your head. His brown eyes are a little hooded, lashes long and dark. "Why?" he whispers.

You mirror his actions, looping your arms around his neck so you can play with the hair at the back of his head. "I remember once—I must've been 10 or 11—I went to a museum with my class. There was this big sword on the wall and I remember looking around at all the people in the room and feeling anxious about it. I've always been like that. Even in the kitchen when my mum was sharpening one the knives I was on always a little on edge. She could drop it on her toes or accidentally turn at wrong time as I'm walking past..." You trail one of your hands down over his shoulder, fingers gently stroking over his skin until they rest at his throat. He doesn't react, even as you give an experimental squeeze. "I noticed the other day, when you were making dinner. I was so relaxed. It's a lot for me, to be completely free of it. No anxiety at all. You can stand there behind me with a knife practically brushing my skin and—"

He cuts you off with a kiss, forcing your fingers into the sides of his neck a little in the second before you can react and pull them away.

When he releases you he has the knife in his hand. You hadn't noticed him pick it up from the bench. He drops to his knees.

You keep a handful of his soft hair between your fingers as he slips the knife between your skin and the fabric of your underwear—at the side; at your hip. He keeps the blade facing away from you, his arms working to keep you steady as he cuts the fabric off you.

He leans forward when he's done, his lips soft against your thigh. "You're so soft," he whispers. He's making a trail with his lips, towards your centre. "So perfect."

[lvlyghost]

In the Midst of War: IV

PAIRINGS: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Shadow!Reader

SUMMARY: Home is no longer where it used to be. Left with no one else you wonder who your friends and foes are.

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

TW: poorly written action lol. Fluff, hurt with so much comfort 🤭. Suggestive but no smut yet🌝. Mind the english!🐸 lmk if i missed any.

A/N: okay so this was supposed to be longer but decided to split the last part for chapter v 🐣 it'll be worth it i promise. next part is coming up sooner! as you know i do a lot of double shifts at work and December is the busiest season for me at work lol, just bear with me💖 comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated 🩵

Masterlist✨

"𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒅."

It's a cold night by the time you get to the safe house in a secluded street somewhere outside Kaindorf. Ghost grunts standing next to you, one of his arms draped over your shoulders to help him keep steady or at least as much as you can help with someone his size. The mission —your first mission since Las Almas— had been successful until it wasn't. You type the code and wait until the door opens with a mechanic sound revealing a not so bad interior. The whole place is silent when you walk in, mirroring the dead of the night. No sound of cars outside not even the sound of the wind to accompany you.

"How are you doing Ghost?" You turn your face to him, he's already staring down at you, noticing the struggle that comes with trying to hold part of his weight. This is not how things should've played out. Yet there he was. A nasty bullet wound on his left shoulder and another to his leg; the latter being just a graze but still hurt like hell.

"Never been better." He growls. And you know he's trying to act nonchalantly. That's just who he is. Who you've come to know. But his injury, especially the one on his shoulder is no joke. You had tried to stop the bleeding right before digging for the bullet. The amount of pain he must've been in was as bad as yours a few weeks ago "How did we miss them?" He mutters under his breath, no doubt recalling the events.

"I don't know. But we'll find out." You lead him to the nearest couch in the corner of the living room and turning on the lamp next to him. Ghost sits down struggling to find a position where he feels comfortable enough. "Alright..." swallowing down you look him in the eyes. "I need to check your wounds again and clean them up properly, okay?"Ghost closes his eyes for a second before nodding, he's too lightheaded to do anything else or maybe it was the morphine you gave him before, he doesn't know anymore.

Trotting back to the truck you unload the duffel bags where all your weapons and medical supplies lie. Closing the door shut and locking it before returning to where the Lieutenant rests. The lamp is turned off again so you can only make the outline of everything. You stop in your tracks dropping one of the bags and shuffle nervously.

"Umm, Ghost?" He hums in acknowledgment. "I can't see anything, do you mind turning...-"

"No." His response comes fast. "I'm not wearing the bloody mask."

So he had taken it off the moment you walked out.

"Then how am I supposed to look at your wounds?" Rolling your eyes you start approaching.

He growls something unintelligible and then adds:

"Fine just don't bloody look up or...-"

"Don't worry, I've no interest in looking at your face."

But the truth was that you wanted nothing more than to see him. The real him. You had dreamed about his face. What would he look like? The small parts of Ghost that you had taken a glimpse of were not enough to make you any less curious. For all you knew was that he most likely was blond. His eyelashes are so light that you wonder if his hair is the same shade. He has soft pink lips and a strong jaw. All of him was huge. Massive. You would never say it out loud but you felt drawn to him.

"Afraid you might like what you see?"

You snort, walking towards him and kneeling in front of the couch he's sitting on. His eyes follow every move you make, never looking up in the process. You slowly peel off the bandages you had previously wrapped around his right leg.

"Does it hurt?" You ask, taking the disinfectant out as you begin to clean up his wound again.

"Not that one." For a moment you almost forget that you're not supposed to look up, but you do. You were trying to take a quick glance to his shoulder, instead laying eyes on his face.

"Shit." You bow your head down as quickly, apologizing profusely to Ghost and expecting some sort of angry reaction from him but he remains in complete silent. "I- I didn't even really see anything, forgive me Sir."

"Fucking hell." He growled. "It doesn't matter. Just don't do it again."

It was true. You barely even saw the entirety of his face. Just pale skin, light brows and a crooked nose from being broken too many times.

"Okay." You swallow hard, hands slightly shaking when your skin makes contact with his much colder one.

Ghost shifts in his seat seemingly uncomfortable with something you can't put a finger on. "Think it's time to stitch that one up." You gesture to where his shoulder should be not daring to look again. Fumbling with the needle and thread waiting for his permission. There's no verbal answer to your previous statement, only a low hum that's enough for you to stand up and silently sit on the armrest next to him, his face is turned the other way hiding himself from you. "You know you can just put it back on?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Yeah, right." brows lifting in surprise. "Want me to get you something for the pain?"

"Get it done, kid."

Breathing deeply you oblige.

Ghost's whole body tenses with the first sting of the needle piercing through his skin. Your eyes are fixated on your work but every now and then they travel to the back of his head. Blond hair. So you were right; and you can't fight back the grin that appears on your lips. You're marveled by something so simple as that; if only he'd let you come closer...

"I think it's my turn to cook something for you. All this time you've taken care of me."

"You don't have to. I was doing what I was told."

Blinking you tap his shoulder lightly to get his attention. Ghost merely turns so a small part of his side face shows, still not enough for you to see.

"I want to." Even if he says it was his job. Even if it didn't mean anything to him. All you needed was a way to thank him for what he had done. That was who you were. How you were taught to be. Grateful amongst adversity. "I'm a good cook I promise."

One last stitch. One more. And then you're done, and his body relaxes as you come to stand gathering the medical supplies while looking down the floor. Before you leave he reaches out, grabbing your wrist in a gentle yet firm grip. Eyes going wide.

"You can look now." His voice is low and when you turn he's put the balaclava back on. Big brown eyes staring with intensity. "Thanks for what you did back there."

You stutter when you speak, something about the way he holds you makes you forget how to form words.

"I had to. It was my job, although I failed..."

"You didn't fail." He growls. You motion at his wounds, embarrassed because you knew you could do better than that. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Your mouth hangs open, lips quivering when his words reach your ears. All this time you've tried to look calm. To appear strong when in reality everything has gone from bad to worse; it began with the loss of your former team and the people you held close and dear. People you thought would be there for you for eternity. And then all of the sudden there were none. Alone in a dirty side road to die, you guess that in the end there were no good people. Just soldiers following orders. But standing in front of a man who was always portrayed as the devil himself maybe... just maybe not all hope was lost. And not all people were bad. Much to your dismay, Ghost stands from his place on the old couch, rising in all his massive glory as he takes one firm step closer to you. Your hands threaten to let everything fall onto the floor, breath getting stuck in your throat. You're lucky. So, so goddamn lucky that he's your ally. Someone who, in these past weeks has become something you don't dare to name.

"At ease soldier." He commands in a hushed voice. And he's close. Too damn close you feel the heat radiate off of him. It makes your skin burn and hands sweat. "I'm just looking at you."

-

Ghost is terrifying when you look at him in full gear. The white skull mask a legend itself among all the military forces in the world. Hushed stories told during late nights back on base. You had never met him nor had the chance to work with him. All you knew was that. Never in a million years would you have thought you'd have to be his eyes from the distance; to be the one who guards him. Your finger caresses the trigger of your sniper rifle, ready to shoot at anyone who you deemed dangerous.

"Should've brought my own mattress." You huff, shifting your body to find a more comfortable position.

"You've been out for a few weeks. It can't be that bad." His deep voice talks right into your ear.

"My stomach was literally reattached, Lt."

A deep chuckle that doesn't last long enough can be heard.

"If you can't do it let me know. I can take you back to your room, yeah?"

"I'm having a hard time deciding if that's a good or bad thing, sir."

"The latter, Vesper."

Laughing you turn your head, maybe it's the paranoia of being back but you feel someone constantly watching you from behind.

"How's that a bad thing? Thought you liked me in my room."

You can practically hear him suck in a breath and then a muttered curse.

"Not when you're injured and nearly comatose." He grunts after a few seconds of silence.

Oh.

Oh.

"Well then's a good thing i'm here."

The mission was rather simple. Break in, gather some intel and get out. Nothing was supposed to go sideways but it did. It had started with the room where the intel was supposed to be.

"Vesper." You hear Ghost calling you. "There's civilians in here." His voice drops an octave.

"What?" A shiver runs down your spine. "They are not supposed to be there." All you hear is the sound of muffled voices. Cries for help. Ghost swearing under his breath. And then shots are fired.

Your heart races when the first couple of hostiles appear through your scope. Not being one to hesitate you aim to their heads and fire.

"Vesper sitrep." Ghost barks, his end way more chaotic than yours.

"Hostiles coming in groups. You need to get out of there asap."

"Bloody hell." It's all he says before another round of shots is fired. "Meet me at the evac point."

"I'm not leaving you behind!"

Shifting your scope to look through one of the windows you watch as a dark figure runs downstairs. Ghost is trying to make his way to the back exit when another group reaches the abandoned building. You effectively take out the first three men that jump out of the black van. Then another ominous creak of crunching leaves in the god forsaken roof of the house across, rolling on your back your turn at the exact moment a bullet is fired your way, and hitting the the ground where you previously laid prone.

Wide-eyed your face pales as recognition hits your features.

You know him. And he knows you too.

-

His big hand lifts slowly as if asking permission to touch you to which you give a small nod. Ghost is looking at a spot on your left cheek his thumb softly caressing the soft skin of your face. You don't know why but you find yourself leaning into his touch.

"How'd you get this?" An unknown look is all you give him. "There's a scratch, right 'ere." Careful not to hurt you or cause you any pain he keeps his motion.

"Must've been when we ran through the woods." You mumble. "I'm sure I didn't let any of them get me."

"Atta girl." A small pause settles when all you hear is the sound of the night outside. Crickets and the now casual passing of cars far in the distance, returning from work, oblivious to the dangers of the world. Some things they'd never heard of before, things they wouldn't witness in their lifetime. "Better me than you."

You melt at his words. Heart nearly beating out of your chest. It's like your body acts out of pure impulse. Hands —your hands— grab the sides of his neck pulling him down just enough that his forehead touches yours, and you rest there with ragged breathing fanning over his face. Closing your eyes you weigh in your options. Break the moment and tell him about the encounter with the man back in the roof, or let yourself feel him? Because truth be told this could only mean one thing. Ghost wanted to be near you in ways that were not professional at all. And hell you wanted that too from the moment you saw him. You just didn't know it.

If the things you heard were true he didn't let just anyone close to him. What was so special about you? You wanted to ask, but you feared that even if you moved, this thing would be broken and the moment would slip through your fingers.

In a quick movement you go from standing in the middle of the living room to sitting on the nearest table, you shriek as Ghost slots himself between your legs. Seemingly unfazed by what he just did you then see the corner of his eyes crinkle. He's smiling under the mask.

"You're hurt. You'll reopen the wound and..."

"I don't care, sweetheart. I've got you where I want you." A sheepish smile forms on your lips and your cheeks grow hot. "One word. Say it and I will stop."

You nod right before he lifted his mask and his lips crash down on you.

Part 5

TAGS:

@fictionallifestuff

[luveline]

For the zombie AU with Steve, maybe a night of survival in the cold? Reluctant cuddling, bonding?

YESSSS tysm for ur request i owe u my life

You pull your coat closed around your middle and shiver.

"Come here," Steve says, tucking the map under his arm.

You move to stand in front of him because he's slipped into his caretaking tone. A nice change. Usually he's just mildly annoyed.

He takes the zipper of your coat into his hand and scolds as he tries to fix it for the fiftieth time today. It's awful timing for it to break because it's cold as winter and you're on the road. A fire, as you've learned, would be a mistake. You close your eyes at the thought of such blistering warmth and listen to him cuss under his breath.

"Sorry," you say eventually. His quiet makes you nervous.

"Not your fault, just..." He gives up and steps away from you. "Bad timing."

You hide your hands in your sleeves.

"Maybe we should stop anyways. We're not exactly moving fast," he says bitterly.

You like the sound of that.

There's a tarp at the bottom of your backpack for occasions like this. You shed your bag and dig for it as Steve drops his own. It's not great, your having to carry blankets with you — they're heavy and take up a lot of space — but it's worse to freeze to death outdoors.

The sun creeps down low in the horizon lazily. You think it's as reluctant to go as you are for it to dissapear, its rays the only thing keeping the tip of your nose from freezing and falling off, no doubt.

You search for a stick. It's harder than it sounds.

Steve doesn't like walking along the road and you don't blame him, often there's cars or bikes weaving through the carcasses of cars picked clean, so you hide in the tree bank. A road block or something similar to the south must've broken recently, and the sound of engines revving at night gets more frequent. Better to stay hidden, even if finding somewhere to camp at night proves difficult.

The stick is necessary to build a makeshift tent, but the trees here are all spindly and thin-branched.

You return triumphant with something just long enough to keep the tarp from your bodies to find Steve's already found a better, chunkier stick and established a camp.

"Don't tell me, or anything. Just let me look for sticks for an hour."

"Your perception of time is getting worse."

"Some of us don't wear watches, 'cos we aren't rich, privileged babies."

He actually manages to laugh at that one, which is odd. It's one of the weakest insults you've ever thrown at him.

"That was bad," he says.

Oh. He's laughing at you.

"Jerk."

"What do you want? I have tinned peaches or a chocolate granola bar-"

"Obviously the granola-"

"With laxatative properties," he finishes, holding it between his fingers like a guy from the commercials. He shakes it at you enticingly.

"I'm not that hungry."

"Too bad."

You both sit near the makeshift tent in your heavy clothes. Steve stretches the blanket over your legs with a warning, "If you get peach juice on this I'm not gonna talk to you till Michigan."

You take the open can of peaches and pretend to tip it toward the blanket. "Don't tempt me, Harrington."

You have to keep talking because if you don't you'll cry. Really cry. Eating dinner like this from a can in a bed of leaf litter makes you want to cry. Every mouthful is sweet and sticky and your eyes get heavy with tears.

Steve understands what you're like by now. "I really fucking hate peaches," he says grandly. "I know you're surprised."

"That doesn't surprise me."

"No?"

"Do guys eat fruit?"

It's a talent.

"'Do guys eat fruit?'" he quotes seriously, pensive, like the answer escapes him.

He leans back against his rucksack and crosses his arms behind his head. He could be shooting the breeze, that's how relaxed Steve Harrington looks.

You laugh reluctantly into the can of peaches as you take a little sip of the juice and almost choke.

"I gotta eat that too, you know? Don't spit in it."

"Sorry," you say genuinely, wiping your sticky face with the back of your hand.

"You should be. Gross." He doesn't sound very bothered.

Steve eats his own peach slices with a shiver and tosses the can overhead. It goes really far, hitting the base of a tree across the way. You can imagine him in his gym clothes rather than what he wears now. Prim yellow shorts. Clean gym t-shirt with his name written in pen across the front.

"You can sleep first," he says.

You don't argue, sliding under the tarp with your blanket.

It's easier like this. The sun hasn't quite set but there's really nothing else to do. You'll sleep, Steve will wake you up in a couple of hours and then you'll swap. You'll wake Steve up when the sun rises, and another day on the road will begin.

The floor is very, very cold.

You try your best to stop from shivering and bring the blanket up to cover your face. The sun goes down and the last of its heat goes with it.

You stick it out. Complaining won't make it warmer. Steve doesn't even have a blanket.

"Y/N?" he whispers.

Leaves shift.

"Are you awake?"

You lift your head to see him where he sits at the opening of the 'tent'. It's difficult to make out his features now.

"I can hear your teeth," he says, eyes impassive as they scour your face.

"S-s-sorry," you shudder.

He stares at you for a while before stretching out his legs and shuffling across the dirt toward you. His hands are like ice as he works them under your shoulders and arms, dragging you into his lap.

You're tired and cold. "Steve," you grumble miserably, "what are you doing?"

"Body heat."

He doesn't stop until you're settled, slouching down so you can lean comfortably against his chest. He pulls the ends of your coats together tightly, readjusts your blanket, and covers your hands with both of his.

He yanks the tarp down and covers you with that, too, the both of your engulfed in plastic.

"What if it rains?" you ask.

"On our frozen corpses, you mean?"

You cringe and turn in his arms to hide your face in his scratchy jacket. His head drops toward his chest, chin gracing the top of your head. It's like a hug. It is a hug. You wrap your arms around his waist and try not to think about it.

It's not the most comfortable position in the world. Your back doesn't quite want to turn right, and his thigh probably hurts from your left elbow. Honestly, it's a pretty pathetic excuse for a hug.

"Why don't you just lie down with me?" you say into his coat.

"And get eaten?"

"There's no geeks around here."

"You say that," he murmurs, hands beginning a slow journey down the length of your back, "and then I'll wake up missing one of my legs."

Using the tarp as a blanket was a good idea. Already you feel warmer. Your face defrost where it's hidden in his front.

"Anymore stupid questions tonight?" Steve asks, voice low and amicable.

"Har-har," you mumble.

He rubs your back. Your eyes well up and you bite your lip to stop from crying. It's really, stupidly nice to be close to someone, to him. You miss comfort and music and eating enough, but you miss hugs most of all. You miss hugs from the people who loved you.

"Do you like me?" you whisper.

As soon as you've asked, you wish you hadn't. He doesn't answer, and you think Good, he didn't hear me.

"No more stupid questions," he says finally, tightening his grips on you. "Go to sleep."

-

more steve zombie!au

[mediocreanomaly]

Mermaid vash with s/o human reader

I feel like Vash would court the reader by giving them random "lost" stuff that he found from people that dropped things in the ocean, like bottles, broken camera, jewelry, a random knive. Anything shiny and cool looking ends up in the reader's hands from Vash. He'd be very happy if the reader accepts the gifts but if the reader gives him something? Any thoughts gone, Vash is malfunctioning.

Just thought this would be a cute idea

Authors Note: Guys please I'm a creature lover at heart don't get me started on these prompts- (joking please get me started on these prompts mer!Vash makes me happy)

Mer!Vash x Reader HC's

•Vash is extremely interested in humans. Think...Ariel lmao. Although humans are known for trying to poach merfolk (their scales and fins are extremely valuable) he can't help but love them!

•He does his best to stay hidden as he follows along boats from afar to watch the crew work during the day or play cards and drink at night. He sits on far away rocks on beaches to watch the humans splash in the water and sunbathe on the beach. Basically if he can watch humans somewhere he'll be there

•Which is why when you became the newest light house keeper for the port, you were the perfect human for Vash to watch

•It was perfect, the light house was far enough from the actual port that he could lay on the rocks with out being seen, he'd watch you through the light house windows, he'd watch when you'd leave to dip your feet in the water or sit on the rocks to watch the horizon. It became Vash's new favorite pass time so it was only a matter of time before you noticed your fishy companion

•When you first see him his lower body is in the water, only his head sits out watching you, you blink and begin approaching him thinking it's someone who's swam too close to the rocks

"Hey! This might not be the best place to swim there's lots of rocks and the actual swimmers beach is-" you pause caught off guard when, a couple steps in, you see a long red and orange tail gleaming in the water. You lose your balance and fall in the shallow water screaming-

"ahhh!" "ahhh!" the merman mimics back in your voice, which only concerns you more and...leads you to scream again, "ahhh!!!" "ahhh!!!"

•This whole mimicking thing seems to go back and forth for about two more screams before you settle. You catch your breath as you stare at the merman who just watches you curiously not making a move to leave

•You had heard of merfolk, everyone had but it was rare to see them unless you were a poacher and even then merfolk were famous for sinking the ships that were after them. You had met a cocky sailor once who had tried to boast by showing off a few mermaid scales he has sliced off some mermaid he was tracking but it had only disgusted you thinking about how terrified the poor girl must've been

•Although as you carfully look over the merman in front of you it doesn't look like this one has had any better luck, winding scars paint his chest and it seems he's missing an arm...you wearily glance up to the blue eyes watching you, you're pretty sure merfolks were supposed to have silted iris but this merman's pupils are blown wide with curiosity

"...so...can you copy anything I say?" you ask, "...so...can you copy anything I say?" He repeats in your voice, which...is admittedly a bit creepy but he makes a pleased trill noise after he shows off

"Right...so you uh, have a name?" you ask, the merman nods eagerly then pauses looking a little sad before smiling and saying "Vash!" in a woman's voice you've never heard before

•You come to realize that Vash can mimic pretty much any sound as long as he's heard it before. You assume it's some sort of hunting tactic which scared you a bit until you realized he mostly used it to mimic the noises of other sea animals to bring them closer, so it seemed humans were not on the merfolk menu

•Vash comes around pretty much everyday, trying to communicate through half phrases he had heard and various chirps and trills you often had to decode the message of. Luckily he was very expressive so it helped with the context

•You find Vash loves human things, you even started bringing him foods after he snatched a bag of donuts from your hand one morning. So you eat most your meals out by the rocks now, not that you mind. The life of a light house keeper was a lonely one, so you were glad for the company as unconventional as it may be

•The two of you actually become close, or...as close as a human and merman can get you guess? Only issue for you is you don't seem to realize how close you actually are

•Vash has decided. You'd be the perfect mate. You're a good swimmer (for a human), you provide food (donuts), and it only confirms it in his head when one day he makes and happy chirp noise and you jokingly try to mimic it back the same way he does, not realizing it's a show of affection in the merfolk world

•So Vash takes it upon himself to begin courting you. You know how I said think Ariel when you think about Vash? Yeah he has a little cave in the ocean that he just collects trinkets in. Pennies, jewelry, screws, knives, if it shimmers he's picked it up and stashed it away. Which is why he's sure he'll be very good at scavenging to show you how good of a mate he would make!

•It starts off slow, when you're sitting on the rocks with Vash and he hands you a small shiny quarter. You glance up at him as he watches you eagerly waiting for a response. You smile and run your hand through his wet hair

"For me?" you hum, he makes an affirmative trill, tail slapping against the rock excitedly

"Well thank you, it's very nice Vash"

•Then the next day he brings you a necklace he found which you please him by wearing, something that just confirms his courting is working. Then he brings you and old camera, then a bottle, then a whole sword which you go wide eyed at when your smiling blonde companion pulls it out of the water

•You aren't 100% sure why Vash feels the need to bring you things but you enjoy the collection of shells, sand dollars, and shiny objects he leaves you. Although you feel a little bad that, besides the snacks you offer him, you haven't ever given him a gift

•So you go to the market the next day trying to find something. You didn't really know if Vash had a home to keep anything big in...where did merfolk live anyways? You'd have to ask Vash next time you saw him- and you're getting distracted.

•You sigh almost giving up when a stall that glimmers in the sun catches your eye. Perfect! Vash loved shiny things! You run over to the stall to see what they have when your gaze lands on a gold ear ring. The whole "one ear ring" look was becoming popular among sailors but...Vash liked mimicking humans, maybe he'd like this?

•You quickly buy it (in part thanks to all the spare change Vash leaves in your hands every morning) and head back out to the light house

•When you get there Vash has already pushed himself up on the rocks waiting for you. He makes a pleased trill noise and greets you with a "Good morning!" in your own voice. You chuckle and carfully climb your way over to his spot and sit down

"Good morning to you too! Hold out your hand!" You urge as you dig in your bag for your gift, Vash gives a curious look and tilts his head letting out a questioning "vrr?"

"please? c'mon it's good surprise promise" you say, he nods not one to deny you and holds out his hand. You press the gold ear ring into his palm and smile at him.

"so? do you like it? ...Vash? uh...Vash?" You try to wave your hand in front of his face but his eyes are locked on the trinket, as if completely shocked. His face is...also going a very bright shade of red the longer he looks at it- did you break him?

"Vash if you don't like it-" before you can finish that thought he quickly makes a panicked chirp when you go to grab it out of his hand and dives into the water leaving you wondering what just happened

•Vash meanwhile is running his fingers over the metal of the ear ring over and over again. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected a courting gift from you! This was so embarrassing! To accept courting advances was one thing but to be so bold as to court back? He never expected you to be so forward! Well...that just confirmed you wanted to be his mate...and that he'd have to up his courting tactics to really impress you

•After about a half hour of sitting bewildered at the mermans reaction you finally spot him as he peaks his head out of the water and- oh! he's wearing the gold ear ring, the hoop hanging from his right ear

"Vash! I almost thought you left for the day" you sigh padding into the water after him, he shakes his head and makes a cooing noise before repeating "Hold out your hand!" just as you had earlier

"hmm? oh you didn't have to get me something too but okay" You relent holding out your hand, expecting more change or something shiny-

"ahhhh!" you scream as a a live fish about as big as your arm is dropped into your hands. You fumble and drop it, the fish flops around before darting away as soon as it hits the water. Vash frowns, this...was going to be harder than he thought.

[pokemonshelterstories]

I need help with something a little strange. For context, I have a bird feeder in my backyard, and the local murkrow in my neighborhood tend to come by every now and then to eat. Sometimes, they will leave me little gifts like coins, shiny rocks, and little trinkets. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Until recently. I woke up this morning to refill the feeder and see if the murkrow had left any gifts for me, and I found a scared gimmighoul on my windowsill. I think the murkrow must've meant to take the coin the gimmighoul had but ended up also taking the poor guy with them.

I put him in a box and took him inside so that he wouldn't get attacked by anything else. But I have no idea how to take care of a gimmighoul and don't know where I could take him so that he doesn't get bullied by the murkow again. Is there anything I can do to help him or somewhere I can go to safely drop him off?

ah geez. poor little guy. we get gimmighoul all the time, mostly from people who either let their pokemon free roam (bad) or saw a wild pokemon attack it- usually murkrow or meowth- and thought to bring it in for a checkup (very nice)

honestly, without knowing where he came from, it's hard to say what would be a good place to take him. you can drop him off at a local pokemon center or ranger station and they'll check him over before letting him free. hopefully he won't get picked up by any more murkrow!

[mx-julien]

ninjas' relationship with a home

Zane is used to moving on from places, as an amnesiac orphan he was used to getting up and carrying on, then his only temporary home, the Monastery, burns down (ref: s1 ep2 Home) and the others blame him for it. granted, he seems unaffected from these accusations and proceeds to find the Destiny's Bounty that day so all is forgiven

I wonder if some of this longing for a home was intensified after he regains his memories in Tik Tok (s1 ep7). because then he would be able to remember a time of prolonged safety and living with people you love

Kai and Nya lived at the blacksmith shop presumably since their parents got kidnapped by Krux and Acronix. Nya even had enough time to create a whole secret room of armor

the first years must've been especially hard given all the reminders of their parents being around. did they leave their bedroom untouched, save for the occasional cleaning?

did Kai have to pull up a stool to the stove to cook until he hit his growth spurt? are most of Nya's memories in that house of Kai making her lunches and tucking her in at night and sending her off to school?

who takes care of the shop while they're gone? and when they come back do they notice everything looks a little smaller- each corner thick with dust and the fingerprints of afternoons when they were 12 and only had each other?

Jay lived with Ed and Edna in the scrapyard since he was little and he can visit back there whenever he likes, but now he has another family to think about: the one he never had, the one that gave him away

however after Skybound he knows he has other parents as well. does he ever sit in the kitchen he grew up in and wonder if his biomom had any recipes she wanted to pass down? if she ever saw families or little kids and thought of him? if they have the same smile or same freckles or same laugh?

sure he can learn about Cliff all he wants and he loves his Mom and Dad dearly, but was there more? could he have learned to master lightning with his Mom? where was she when he was growing up? was she unable to see him or unwilling? is she even alive?

Cole's house is likely the same as when he was little, so he too can go visit, but I wonder if he went off to "boarding school" because after his Mom died he couldn't stand to be at home

what was a place to laugh and paint became gray when Lilly got ill. it turned into a place of hushed voices and packed bags for the hospital. after she died it was the home of yelling, of arguments, of tradition vs. passion. smiles became forced and doors only slammed shut.

with more time having passed, I wonder if Cole is glad that so many things of his are mostly untouched since his Mom died. he can find her neat handwriting on some notes in his desk, in books on the shelves, and point out decor she bought

Lloyd only had a complete home for a small part of his childhood before Misako left him at Darkley's. then, he must've lived somewhere close to the school. when he was doing Pythor's bidding, he seemed to be mostly homeless

after growing up deserted at a boarding school (that he clearly didn't like) and manipulated into long treks and homelessness to do the bidding of a snake, perhaps his misbehavior at the beginning of his stay on the Bounty was because he couldn't imagine it lasting. him? a place where he felt at home? better the devil you know than the devil you don't- just toss me back out on the streets I don't CARE!

when do you think he realized that the others weren't going to leave him like his Mom did or take advantage of him like Pythor? how many months in did it take him to realize that his uncle Wu wasn't the only one who wanted him there?

any particular ninja y'all want me to focus on drop in the tags or replies- I'm real interested about this now

[michelle-is-writing]

Delicate, Roger Taylor

Word Count: 900~

Everyone knows Roger is a constant complainer. Not to mention one of his favorite hobbies is bickering with his bandmates. However, there's something Roger is excellent at doing - getting attention one way or another from me, his girlfriend.

"Lovie," I hear Roger yell from his 'office' (a room with a drum set and soundproof walls). His voice gives away his neediness, and I can't help but smile to myself with a shake of my head. Lifting the TV remote from my lap, I mute the telly as I turn away from the random show and look toward the hallway. "I need you!" he further adds, making me let out a little laugh in response to his dramatic voice.

Standing from the couch, I head toward the room at the end of the hallway before opening the door to see Roger sitting beside his drum-set, rubbing his hand as if he hurt it. The room is the same way it was yesterday, meaning he barely started practicing after sitting down. Not to mention his long blond hair is still combed down rather splayed everywhere due to his sporadic movements while drumming. That's definitely not normal for Roger

"Are you okay, honey?" I ask, moving closer to sit across from him. Once I do, he scoots forward and plants his head onto my lap where he nuzzles into me while sighing. I can tell he's stressed out - it's evident in his breathing and slightly scrunched face.

"No, I'm not," Roger gently confesses, bringing his hands up to lay in my lap as well. His fingers gently knead against the skin of my thighs for a few seconds before Roger stops with almost a pained hiss. "My... my hands keep cramping," he explains, laying them back on my legs. "They've started hurting terribly."

"Would you like me to rub them?" I ask Roger, reaching down toward his hands. Looking back up at me, Roger slyly smirks to which I squint my eyes at him with a small, "Or not," My words quickly shut down his comment, Roger giving in with a small 'hmph'. He can't even last ten seconds without his mind jumping to something dirty.

Taking his hands in mine, I hold them up to my eyes and frown at the purple and red splotches that cover Roger's fingertips. "Roger, baby," I mutter, running my thumbs over his warm palms. Looking back at me, he lightly smiles and tries to brush my worries off, but I don't let him. "Stay here," I tell him before standing from the wooden floor and heading out into the hall.

Once I'm in our bedroom, I quickly grab the lavender hand lotion from my side table drawer and turn around, only to find Roger entering our room a few seconds after me. Instead of doing like I said and staying in his drumming room, Roger plants himself on our bed where he lays back and gestures for me to join him. "Didn't I tell you to stay put?" I tease him, causing a smile to rise to the blond's lips.

"The drum floor is quite uncomfortable, dear," he tells me, patting his lap. "Come. Sit." Roger adds, now smirking.

"Oh, God, Rog," I almost exclaim, fighting my ever-growing smile and red blush. Tossing the bottle of hand lotion toward him, I point toward him. "And to think I was going to massage your hands in thanks for all your hard work!"

Instantly, his smirk drops and he's sitting straight up rather than lying back. "I promise I'll be good," he states almost as if he were a child begging to go somewhere. "Please, I won't make any more dirty comments."

At his begging, I wait a few seconds before giving up the fight to not smile and letting out a dramatic sigh. "That's impossible for you," I tell him, plopping down on his lap and taking his hands in mine. He must've thought I wasn't going to accept his previous invitation going by the slightly shocked look that takes over his face only to be taken over by bliss.

Once I'm finished massaging his first hand, I start massaging the other one, only to let out a small laugh as I do so. "What?" Roger pipes up, looking up at me with half-lidded eyes and a curious smile. He's so relaxed, that he could probably fall asleep right now.

At his question, I smile back before pressing our hands together, palm to palm. "Your hands are so much bigger than mine," I note, moving my fingers to go between his. "And yet, they fit so perfectly together..."

"Maybe it's because we're meant to be together," Roger concludes, rolling us over so we can lie beside each other. He instantly pulls me into his arms as soon as he can, pressing me to his chest as I simply savor the closeness of our hold. "Wouldnt you agree?" He asks, making me smile up at him.

However, before any more time passes, Roger quickly presses his lips to mine for a few moments until he pulls away, smiling as he stares down at me with nothing but gentleness in his eyes. Squeezing our still interlocked hands, he leans close enough to place his lips on mine once again, but surprisingly, he doesn't, and instead, he chooses to speak up once more. "But then again, I've always known that~"