#and biting my nails/bits of plastic

[ehh-is-the-name]

Epithet erased spoilers under the cut btw 

But I’ve been listening to the audiobook in little bite sized pieces like a weird advent calendar only to be opened on business days and oH BOY. If you’re getting it for Christmas or planning to get it, you’ll have a good time. That’s all I’ll say up here. 

OH FUCKIN BOY! For the fellow book readers, I just got through chapter 5 and how I want to hate Lorelai- I want to hate her, BUT FUCKIN’ CHRIST! 

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a case of “lack of parental guidance making a kid grow up terribly” wind up so functionally bad! It could be worse, it could certainly be worse, but it’s so obvious she’s just following in her dad’s terrible, god-awful footsteps that it stings. This bitch- my bad, witch needs a fistful of reality and therapy. The Blyndeffs should go to family counselling or something, they’re all messes up. I saw that “avoiding everyone and then covering it up with comedy” thing their dad did in like idk ch 2 or something. You don’t just live in your own world for a reason. I’m on to him.

And don’t take that as me justifying that man’s behaviour, the only way he qualifies for as a father is legally, he’s not a real dad in any way, shape, or form. I just think these underlying things are interesting to think about. I may not be able to hate Lorelai but I do hate her dad. 

[tonycries]

Love Is Blind

Synopsis. Boys who don’t take their glasses off until after they eat you out. Face stuffed desperately between your thighs and nose-deep in your cunt, he knows his glasses are bound to get dirty - but that’s half the fun.

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, cunnilingus, oral sex (female receiving) he’s a bit mean but sexy, glasses kink (??!!?), pet names (angel, baby), swearing.

Word count. 1.2k

A/N. My way of coping with only being able to wear fake glasses.

Art by @_3aem on X.

Boys who don’t take their glasses off until after they eat you out.

His hair was askew, lips stinging, and glasses lopsided from the feral make-out session he’d pulled you into right as he walked in through that damn door. Kissing you as if your lips were the source of life itself.

He knows he’s being rougher than usual. Nails digging neat crescents into your pretty thighs as he bullies your legs apart on the cold kitchen counter. Pushing his glasses back up, he has to bite back a groan at your glistening cunt. Shit, all he did was throw you around a bit and you’re already so wet for him.

You’d been teasing him all morning before work. Wearing that damn short skirt - his favorite - and batting your lashes at him in a way you knew would have you bent over and stuffed full of his cock in seconds. 

Fuck whoever invented the work week, he’d rather stay in bed with his pretty girl till the neighbors file a noise complaint again. 

Yet, for the way he couldn’t stop thinking about you - fucking his fist pathetically in that dingy work bathroom - you were going to pay tonight.

Almost in a trance, he barely registers the pain as his knees hit the tile desperately, brows furrowed as if in the depths of prayer. Perhaps he was - lustful gaze looking over his frames to flicker indecisively between your half-lidded eyes and kiss-bitten lips, which move to whimper “Hngh- Baby, I need your mouth on me so bad.”

Ah, he really had a goddess splayed out and aching for him.

“Mm, oh really?” he breathes hotly over your quivering pussy, glasses slightly fogging up as he teases himself just as much as you. The slow torture was delicious. 

“Yes!.”

A smug smile spreads across his face. 

You flinch when the cold plastic of his glasses touches your throbbing clit as his face meets your cunt, tongue flattening against your swollen folds - not yet dipping inside. You gasp at the sensation, the lack of what you crave so badly.

He feels drunk off the pretty mewls escaping your mouth, mind almost hazy enough to go easy on you. Almost.

“Get my glasses dirty and you’ll be making up for it, angel.” he murmurs lowly, voice sending vibrations to your pussy that have it clenching around nothing.

Lewd squelches fill the air as his tongue slides teasingly between your folds in an unhurried rhythm that has your hips bucking for more. “Behave.” he warns, fingers holding your hips so firmly in place that he’s sure he leaves marks. 

“B-but…want you inside me. Want to come around your tongue, baby.”

Shit, you were so good at winding him up, knowing everything that makes him tick. 

But all he can remember is the little smirk curling around your lips as you bent over in that godforsaken skirt right as he was one step out the door on the way to an urgent meeting.

This time, he wanted to play with you a little more.

He breathes you in so sinfully as his nose catches on your pulsing clit, finally giving you an ounce of the friction you’ve been craving so desperately. 

“Hah- Don’t stop.” you beg.

Doing exactly the opposite, he pulls away, your slick forming a pretty gloss all over his bruised lips - dangerously close to where his glasses rested on his nose.

“Oh? Thought you were holding out on me, angel. Where did that go?” he cocks his head, chuckling at your frustrated whines. 

“I’m sorry baby. Hngh-” he cuts you off with a long lick dipping into your dripping hole playfully. 

“Yeah?” he hums.

“Yes.”

“Won’t make me pop a boner during meetings anymore?” he whispers, lips ghosting a hair’s breadth from where you needed him the most. 

“No- please! I’ll be good for you.” you sputter out.

Now, in all his years of loving you, he’s done everything he can so that you never shed a tear when you’re with him. Even going so far as to smother you in kisses to try and make you smile each time the dog dies in those damn sappy movies during date night.

But right now, the impatient tears that cling to your lashes at his actions make his cock twitch, a carnal part of him delighting in your desperation for him.

“Tell me what you want, my angel.”

“Fuck me with your tongue…please.” your whimpers send blood rushing straight to his already painfully hard cock. 

The heat of his tongue and the sex in the air as he dives nose-deep into your dripping pussy has condensation building up on his glasses. His tongue attacks your hole ruthlessly, dipping in and out at a pace that has you gripping the counter for support, “Ah! Yes! Keep going, baby.”

His lips make out with your dripping cunt with a lust that eclipses the need for air. A desperation for your essence. Who needs to breathe when he prefers to be smothered by his girl’s pretty pussy.

He moans around your entrance as your juices gush around his tongue, glasses pressing against his face when he pushes his face impossibly closer to your hot core. His eyes roll to the back of his head at your addictive taste. His favorite.

Yelps of his name leave your mouth at each tight circle of his tongue on your clit, only pushing him to suck harder. 

He relishes in how messy you are, slick now starting to drip around the corners of his mouth. Absolutely convinced that he’s losing more and more of his grip on reality at each tap! tap! tap! of it hitting the hardwood floor.

His glasses have now completely fogged up, forcing him to continue his abuse on your pussy through pure, feral need. Won’t be long now, he thinks at your breathless moans.

Your juices smearing all over his mouth and nose, he feels you clenching down on him as he ramps up the harsh movements of his mouth. “Jus’ like that. Shit, I’m gonna-” your mewls echo across the room.

You come fast and hard all over his mouth - and his glasses, as he had known you would.

His heavenly sight of your dripping cunt is now blurred by your slick covering the glass, dripping down the side of his frames and onto the kitchen floor. He could barely see a damn thing, but he knows he fucking loves it.

What is it that they say? Love is blind?

He chuckles lowly as you try and catch your breath, legs twitching in sensitivity on the counter. 

Slowly removing his glasses, he runs a finger along them, inspecting the mess his girl’s slutty pussy has made. He collects your sweet juices before popping a finger in his mouth - unable to help himself. 

He groans at the taste - shit, he should really make you taste yourself later. 

In the hazy aftermath of your orgasm, your dazed eyes follow him as he stands to his full height, towering above you. 

You see the slight curve of his grin before he deftly slides his glasses onto the bridge of your nose. Legs still spread and feeling the weight of his glasses, you feel so exposed - like you’ve fallen right into his trap.

“Now, now, angel…” he tuts, fingers unbuttoning his tight pants, cock straining for relief. 

“What did I say about dirtying my glasses?”

- GOJO, Nanami, Armin, TSUKISHIMA, KUROO, OIKAWA, Kunikida 

A/N. Pretend that Kuroo and Armin wear glasses okay. Also apologies if you saw this before, other post was being buggy and I’m still trynna figure stuff out.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[loveshotzz]

We’re supposed to be eating breakfast

older!steve x fem!reader an AIRWIY oneshot

summary: You wake up after your first sleep over at Steve’s house feeling bold.

wc: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ older!steve, smut, p in v, cream pie, breeding kink, mentions of past drinking, reader is wearing Steve’s baseball jersey but it’s not really described how it fits on readers body, no real descriptions of readers body.

authors note: this took me over a month to write with everything going on in my personal life, so I’m excited to finally give it to you. thank you all for your patience and encouragement to keep coming back on here every day despite me not writing as much as I used to and to keep me opening my word docs. this one was spurred my @palmtreesx3 brilliant mind and an idea that’s haunted me day and night. This takes place in the All I Really Want Is You universe, but can be read as a stand alone. Just know you’re wearing Steve’s personalized cubs jersey. :)

The harsh sounds of the coffee grinder is what wakes you up, but the golden rays of morning sunshine that leaks through the cracks in the blinds is what gets your eyes to open. Slow soft blinks, with fluttering lashes and brain still fuzzy from the kind of sleep that makes you temporarily forget what year it is, you need a moment to recognize the unfamiliar, much nicer surroundings.

You were in Steve’s room.

A smile you can’t contain spreads wide across your face, butterfly wings tickling at your rib cage. Stretching your still sleeping limbs, your body melts into the soft cushions of his mattress. The feathers that fill his pillows contour to your head perfectly, and the memories of the ways he had you pressed into it resurface, skin igniting with the ghost of his hands on your curves. Biting your bottom lip, the kind of nerves that you haven’t had since the Fourth of July make themselves known again, having never spent a morning with him at his home.

Rolling over, your face hits the cotton of his pillowcase that you’re not surprised is cold. Shamelessly you inhale the cedar and spice that still lingers on it, and the faint ache between your thighs, along with the clinks of glass you hear from his sink, reminds you that he’s just down stairs. It takes a little bit of willpower to leave the cozy cocoon you’ve found yourself in but the need to see him over powers the comfort of his duvet that feels like just the right amount of weight against your body.

Shuffling out of the covers, your bare feet hit the cold hard wood of his floors, a shiver crawling up your spine that you tell yourself is from the chill of the winter air that seeps through his unsealed windows, definitely not your nerves catching a glimpse of your naked body in his dresser mirror. The same mirror you’d seen him in almost five months ago.

Padding across his bedroom you wonder if he can hear your steps as you search for any sign of your clothes that had been haphazardly thrown around after an old bottle of red wine. The clean white color of his jersey catches in your gaze, the blue bold lettering that spells out his last name has your thighs pressing at the memory of your second date as it sits folded on top of his dresser.

The thought of how good he looked with it stretched across his broad shoulders, and the top two buttons undone, teasing the chest hair that your nails dragged through last night makes your skin warm. The praises he whispered in hot merlot against your lips, your neck, and between your legs is what gives you the confidence you need to slip it on instead.

The stairs creak under each step, but the popping grease of the bacon that fills his house with the smell of maple lets you go undetected. Familiar voices of who you’re learning are sportscasters, spill out from the small speaker on his phone that you know is propped up on the little plastic holder he always sets it on when he charges it. He mumbles something in response to the commentary under his breath, and you hear the beeping of the oven telling him it’s finished preheating.

Your cheeks hurt from how high they push up when you realize Steve’s making you breakfast.

A little shy from his affections already, your fingers wrap around the wood frame of the entryway with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. With his back to you, it gives you a perfect view of the way his white cotton undershirt stretches tight over his shoulder blades that move with every flick of his wrist, forearms flexing as he whisks whatever is in the bowl in front of him. Black sweats sit low on his hips, giving you a glimpse of his boxer briefs underneath, the font across the top of his waist band says Burberry, making your palms sweat. A personal favorite pair.

He turns his head to look at a replay of a game he missed in favor of spending time with you on his phone screen, still completely unaware of your presence. The new angle reveals the silver glasses he wore a few weeks ago in his office, dark chestnut and peppered hair sticking out wild at the ends, a mess you know was made by your hands.

“Seriously? Keep him on the bench.” He grumbles, shaking his head before bringing his attention back to the bowl.

You watch him for a few seconds longer, but his butt jiggling with the force of his whisking makes a giggle slip past your lips blowing your cover. He jumps at the noise no matter how sweet it is, meeting your eyes from over his shoulder. Steve gives you a smile that you’re learning is only reserved for you and sometimes Eddie, punching the air out of your lungs. Watching the way it only continues to grow across his stubble covered face makes your heart swell even more.

It’s only when his gaze finally lands on the only thing you’re wearing that the gold shimmering inside his eyes darken, a starless night lingering where the bottom hem of his jersey sits at the very tops of your thighs.

“Jesus honey, look at you.” The metal whisk hits the glass of the bowl with a loud clink as he turns around to really drink you in, “good morning to me.”

“I hope this is okay,” your voice comes out smaller than intended, suddenly self conscious you might have overstepped despite the way he watches you take your first steps into the kitchen like he wants to eat you alive.

“Okay?” His huffs out a breath like he’s wrecked, long fingers coming up to scratch at his jaw, “I’m afraid you’re not allowed to wear anything else in my house ever again.”

You giggle again, and you swear you hear him groan because of it.

“I think we might be able to arrange something, a deal, an agreement of some sort.” you smirk, tapping your nails along the smooth black marble of his kitchen island, giving your hips a little extra sway with your slow steps.

Both his palms curve around the counter behind him as he leans back, chest puffing while he licks his full pink lips. They pull up into a lopsided grin, a hungry gaze roaming freely as you come to a stop right in front of him. His confidence only falters a little when he has to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, but the gesture only makes your heart swell especially when the tops of his ears redden.

You lean against the island with a smile that tells him you’re up to no good. Heat from the oven and the man across from you warms your legs against the chill that bounces off all the glass and stone in his kitchen. Electricity sparks in the space between your bodies making the tips of your fingers and toes buzz, your pulse jumping when he reaches a big hand out for you.

“Just a little bit too far for me still baby,” He wiggles his fingers at you making you smile shyly before you slip your hand into his palm, your eyes glaze over watching it disappear in his grasp.

His gentle tug makes you squeal, hitting his chest with a soft thump, he grins down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Wrapping an arm around you to keep you from leaving, he lets go of your hand to cup the side of your face. The pad of his thumb traces the length of your cheek bone, and he smells just his pillow. Your hands find themselves tangled into the cotton of his shirt, leaning deeper into his touch. It makes the playfulness that dances in the chestnut of his eyes turn soft with something lovesick.

“Good morning handsome,” you say in a content sigh, and the hand that's spread across your back starts to work a path up your spine pulling the fabric of his jersey with it.

“I could really get used to this you know,” He hums, dipping his head down so the tip of his nose runs up the length of yours, mint and coffee on his breath “waking up to you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, all the blood rushing to your cheeks when you feel the cool breeze hit where your underwear should be.

“Oh yeah? What about Bandit?” You tease leaning closer, letting your top lip catch his bottom one.

Steve snorts a little, reminded of his dog who he knows is soaking up the sun outside, and the palm on your back squeezes you even closer.

“Are you kidding me? We’re obsessed with you over here honey.” The whites of his teeth show a little before they nip at your pout. He takes advantage of the gasp he earns, closing the gap completely in the kind of kiss that doesn’t give you any time to catch your breath before he’s licking at your bottom lip.

Your fingers untangle themselves from his shirt, and find a new home to get lost in the locks at the nap of his neck. Tongues meet in the middle with eager enthusiasm, and your front teeth hit as you push up on your tippy toes on the search for more. A deep groan vibrates from his chest, and his palm starts working its way down the dip of your back. When he’s met with the bare swell of your ass as he reaches the bottom hem of his jersey, you feel him kick up in his sweatpants.

“Tough girl.” He says your nickname like he's scolding you, leaving open mouthed kisses up your jaw, nipping at your earlobe before whispering with the kind of gravel in his voice that makes the inside of your thighs sticky. “We’re supposed to be eating breakfast.”

You hardly register him turning the oven off beside you.

“Who says -“ your sentence is cut off by a gasp when two thick fingers trace up your slick lips with ease, the pads of them pressing down on your bundle of nerves just long enough to make you whine with shaky knees.

“Who says what huh?” He whispers against the sensitive spot behind your ear, rubbing small circles on your clit with pointed pressure, obsessed with the way your jaw goes slack, and your eyebrows pinch together because of it.

“Who says we can’t do both?” You manage to get out with fluttering lashes, as he spreads you apart.

“You’re right, I don’t think breakfast is gonna be sweet enough for me.” He tuts, letting his middle finger push just a knuckle into your already greedy walls, and the soft moan that he gets from you has him leaking in his sweats. “You gonna help me with that, honey?”

Too lost in his teasing all you manage is a nod and a breathy ‘mmhmm’ looking up at him with big glassy eyes. He lets his lips ghost over yours, with a smirk tugging at the corners of them before spinning you around. Your palms land back on the cool marble of the kitchen island while both his hands wrap themselves firmly around the soft dough of your hips keeping his Jersey rucked up with them. He pulls your ass flush with his hips, letting you feel the hard length of him that begs to be released from the fleece confines of his pants against the ache in your core.

“This is what you wanted when you came down here lookin’ like this huh?” He asks with a low voice, hooking his thumbs under the bottom of his jersey. Lifting it higher up your back, he grinds against you while his eyes drink in all the soft dips of all your curves.

“Maybe,” you giggle a little breathy looking back over your shoulder at him with half lidded eyes.

His smile steals all the warm light from the room as he looks down at you with a cocked brow.

“I was trying to wait till after breakfast, which was hard waking up to you naked in my bed.” He can’t stop his heavy gaze from wandering to his last name covering the top of your back, unlocking something primal and possessive inside of him that he thought he’d lost forever. He wants you to leave it on, he’ll get it dry cleaned. “But honey, I can’t keep my hands off of you lookin’ like this.”

His palm feels heavy as it slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing at the fat with strong fingers spreading you apart a little before shoving his sweatpants half way down his hairy thighs. With hot cheeks, you flutter around nothing when the thickness of his cock springs free, standing at attention just for you. Somersaults in your stomach as you watch his tight grip pump himself a few times. Your hips wiggle in anticipation, whining when he teases more, gliding his tip through your slick, a small moan spilling from between your lips when he catches your clit.

“Always so needy for me,” he groans with a hint of disbelief, “fuck, what’d I do to deserve you?”

Steve doesn’t waste anymore time, slowly pushing in and the feeling of your walls wrapping around him while your body tries to accommodate the stretch has him chanting your name under his breath. Half way in, he regrips your hips a little rougher than before. His cock twitches watching your back bow, making his last name shine against the light while your nails scratch at the cool marble when he bottoms out.

Legs shaking, still sensitive from the night before, his hold on you tightens. You keen at the feeling of his thumbs rubbing small circles into your soft skin giving you time to adjust. It doesn’t take long for the initial sting subside, giving you the strength to rock your hips a little, a breathy sigh escaping you when it feels good.

“Yeah?” He hums, meeting your hips with his own hitting that spot that makes your toes curl.

“Uh huh” You manage to utter as he pulls almost all the way out, a moan of his name long and drawn out bounces off the walls when he pushes back in letting you feel every inch.

“That’s my girl,” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and it makes you want to turn around and see it.

Your eyes meet from over your shoulder again as he starts to roll his hips, finding the perfect pace. The sound of skin slapping fills the quiet space between moans every time your ass jiggles from the force of it. That strand falls messily over his forehead when he looks down at you, brows pinching together and jaw going slack like seeing your face only intensified everything he was feeling. He holds your stare, and the snap of his hips starts to get rougher. Burying himself deep focusing on that spot, the one he’s only ever been able to find.

“Oh, oh- Steve. Right there -shit - oh my god.” Your head falls between your shoulders, when he starts to barely pull out anymore. The tip of him making your eyelashes flutter as he reaches the spot that had you screaming his name last night, over and over again.

His eyes wander the expanse of your back, keeping his pace while his hands slowly start to slide up your sides, pushing his jersey with it. He wants to see more of you, but his hips stutter hearing the noises he’s getting out of you with his last name plastered across your hunched shoulders.

“You look so good - shiiit, like this baby. My name on your back, letting me bend you over in my kitchen while I cook you breakfast.” He babbles as your walls start to flutter, already dangerously close to falling over the ledge, your body threatening to take him with you. “Wanna do this all the time, please, let me do this all the time, honey.”

“Whatever, whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want, I’m - oh fuck, I’m yours.” Your words break off in a moan when he starts to circle his hips at the same time you push yours back and he holds you there, repeating the motion.

“Yeah? You’re mine?” Steve grunts, cock twitching at the thought of filling you up, and for the first time in over a decade he feels the need to mark what’s his in the most primal way he knows. The thought of you round with his kid brings a new kind of intensity to the way he starts to fuck you, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer. “Tell me again.”

“Mmmhmm, always yours.” You whine, feeling yourself reaching the edge. Steve leans forward, somehow going deeper. Long thick fingers find their way between your thighs, where the two of you connect and he starts rubbing messy circles on your clit, pushing you off the cliff.

You flutter and squeeze around him hard enough to almost push him out, but he continues rutting his hips fighting against it, white spots explode behind your lids, his name falling out of your mouth broken in a gasp and a shudder.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s it.” He groans, watching the way your forehead hits the cold marble with another tremor that makes his cock twitch. “Gonna cum baby, let me cum inside, need it, please.”

He can make out the nod of your head, and with the little strength you have left, you push yourself further back encouraging him more. He knows you're on the pill, he’s seen you take it, but right now in the heat of it all, a small part of him hopes you missed a day. He blames the blue letters on his Jersey staring him right in the face, or the way you coat his cock with the remains of what he did to you every time you suck him right back in.

He pushes himself deep enough to make you fall forward a little, a low groan rumbling deep from his chest as he spills hot inside of you the rock of his hips slowing down as he falls apart. His forehead hits your back, with one last lazy thrust, and you can feel the heat of his breath as he pants to catch his breath. You wish the fabric of his jersey wasn’t so thick when he plants a kiss between your shoulder blades, before slowly pulling himself back up.

“Yeah, it’s official. This is absolutely the only thing you’re allowed to wear here.”

[missmeinyourbones]

hi, congrats on ur milestone! can i request gojo with #2 from the midnights prompts list from lavender haze? thank u!

ALL THIS SHIT IT NEW TO ME (s. gojo)

a/n: reader is on their period, satoru calls reader sweet girl and m'lady once, suggestive towards the end with mentions of pregnancy and period sex

L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

Your phone vibrates against the wood of the bedside table.

"Hello?"

Sounding slightly out of breath, Satoru immediately responds on the other side of the call.

"Hi."

Silence takes over the line as he refuses to elaborate any further on his reason for calling. Between whatever the hell he's playing at right now and the dull sensation of what feels like clawing inside of your abdomen, your patience wears thin.

Your second greeting comes less friendly, "Hello?"

"Are you okay?" he instantly asks.

Is he on drugs?

Satoru can practically see your teeth gritting on the other end of the line as you sigh and take a moment to collect your thoughts. With an exhausted and irritated tone, you scoff.

"Are you okay?"

"Your text," he softly points out.

You sigh. Satoru had left early this morning for work, as he usually does. It wasn't until you woke up late with a massive migraine and familiar ache in your stomach that you realized you started your period. It being a bit early this month, you were out of tampons and naively texted your boyfriend to pick you up some his way home.

You should've known it seemed a bit too easy when he merely replied with a thumbs-up.

Fingers pressing the bridge of your nose, you do your best to stay somewhat pleasant.

"…What about it?"

"I'm at the store now," Satoru states the obvious. You can hear the diluted commotion of other shoppers around him, the sound of items being scanned and shopping carts being steered.

He may mean well, but you're failing to see the purpose of his call, "And you're calling me because…?"

"This is such a scary aisle," he says beneath his breath, but you hear him all the same.

You can practically see his pout of cluelessness as he stands before the aisle, hand on hip and sighs, "There's so many… things going on."

"I sent you a picture of the box, Satoru," your eyes instinctually roll back like muscle memory. A cramp hits you a bit harder than the rest and you wince, desperate for his help, "Please, I'll Venmo you."

You hear a muffled scoff from the other line, "No, that's not what I mean. Never say that again."

"Then what do you mean?"

Walking the line between being in over his head and weirdly intrigued, Satoru hums to himself.

"There's like… a million options."

Your hand flexes in on itself in irritation, nails leaving crescents on your palm when you bite, "It's really not that hard when I sent you a visual aid."

"All this shit is new to me," his voice gets muffled a bit and you can tell he's wedging the phone between his shoulder and ear.

You hear the sound of plastic being fondled when he innocently asks, "There's sizes? What size are you?"

"It's not a size thing, Satoru—"

He interrupts you, "It says there's different settings—”

"Settings?" You're going to kill him.

"Yeah," he responds too casually for the situation. "Regular, super, super plus. What the fuck is ultra?"

It's borderline comical, the way you look up to the ceiling in disbelief. If there's a god in heaven, he'll make it so Satoru hangs up the damn phone and gets his ass back in the car within the next minute.

"Like I said in the text," your tone is cold and irritated, "the regular ones are fine."

It's silent for a beat when Satoru whispers, "Are you sure?"

"What do you mean am I sure?" you try not to spit venom. "I've only been doing this for over ten years."

"I mean, I'm pretty big though, and—”

"This is so different, oh my god," you groan, head in hands. "Get the regular ones."

More rustling of plastic and shuffling ensues. "Okay, okay, getting the regular ones. Damn, they make you pay for these?"

"Yes, Satoru," you hiss through a clenched jaw. "Anything else or can I hang up on you now?"

You hear him moving, and you can only pray that it's towards the checkout area, when he breathes, "Actually, yeah.”

You should've known not to ask, as Satoru readjusts his grip on his phone and smoothly taunts, "Are you more likely to get pregnant on your period? Asking for a very interested friend."

The sound of the call ending is his cue to swipe his card.

…

Not long after and in the middle of his lunch break, Satoru arrives home.

He's all smiles when he knocks on the half-open bedroom door, and he sympathetically smirks when he's met with your icy glare and bedhead.

He presents the plastic bag of goodies with a dramatic bow, “M'lady."

"Thank you," grumbles from your lips as you practically snatch it from his hand.

Satoru sits on the edge of the bed next to your limp body, "Anything for you, sweet girl."

His hand finds your tender side as he rubs gentle and warm circles on your skin, a weak attempt to ease any pain of yours he can. He leans back on his palm as he watches you rustle through the bag.

"Got you some other stuff, too," he says, hand finding your hair and gently scratching your head.

It's sweet of him, really. Your usual box of tampons sits on top of the items, followed by a few of your favorite candies and one of those makeshift heating pads shaped like a stuffed animal. You already have about five of them, but it's the thought that counts.

Feeling yourself ease up at his good intentions, you go to thank him—but another package at the bottom of the bag has you glaring at him.

"Satoru…"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Condoms?" you hold out an unopened box of his favorite brand and toss them his way.

"Oh, yeah," he moves the hand in your hair down to your neck, stroking its side softly.

His breath is warm on your skin when he leans in to press a gentle kiss to the spot he knows you like beneath your ear. Though you huff at the insinuation, he doesn't miss how you shiver a bit beneath his lips.

"During my lengthy and extensive research, I read that sex can help cramps," he declares proudly, nudging your throat with the tip of his nose.

“Who were you keeping that detail from, hmm?"

[unholyhelbig]

oversight part 6 ??

Title: The Oversight [Part 6/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 6237

Warnings: SMUT UNDER 18 DNI, oral (r recieving), Dom/sub dynamic, slight mommy kink if you squint, fingering (r recieving), and horrible grammar

[A/n: This took literally all day because I hadn't started it until this morning, and it's now 12am. Good thing it's -15 degrees outside and I physically cannot leave my home. I haven't written Nat smut... ever. Go easy on me.]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Natasha Romanoff knew how to handle a gun. She tested its weight; the mix of metal and plastic was familiar to her as lungs were to breathe. As ocean was to water, as sky was to rolling thunder. Handling a gun, especially while loaded, was a delicate process. She’d stroke the trigger, ghost her fingers over the barrel and expertly tease the weapon into doing exactly what she wanted.

Natasha Romanoff was not one to do anything without calculation, not one to do something without complete control. But, the soft noises that escaped your throat as she nipped across your jawline and licked over the burning bites to soothe the smallest bit of pain made her stop thinking. Stop calculating. It threatened to take her control.

Your back was up against the cool mahogany of her bedroom door. You’d barely gotten a chance to close it before her hands were all over you, and that floral scent invaded your lungs. You were frantic to pull her as close as possible, to feel her body fully against yours. You needed Natasha Romanoff more than you needed life itself. You needed her inside of you.

She seemed just as beside herself. Her nails ran up and down your sides, brushing against the exposed skin that the slit in that beautiful emerald dress provided. You were enamored with it earlier in the night. Now you were grateful for all the exposed parts of you, the hot touches and breathless kisses.

“So needy, malyshka” Natasha whispered between kisses. “You need me to take care of you, don’t you?”

Yes. You wanted that more than you could vocalize. Instead, you let out a groan that was muffled by her lips against yours. You understood the irony, feeling so safe with a woman who was one of the most feared within the city.

She reminded you in a gentle growl “words, baby, use your words.”

“Please, I need you.”

Natasha didn’t need another green light. She hauled you into her arms in a feat of strength, backing you onto the bed. The sheets were cool against your bare legs. The last time you’d been in this bed, you were in much worse shape. You preferred this, coming undone with Natasha’s wandering hands and damp kisses.

You hungrily pushed her jacket from her shoulders, brushing the pads of your fingers over her defined muscles. She smiled against your lips, throwing the expensive garment to the floor. You made quick work of the buttons down the front of her waistcoat, barely exposing the curve of her chest before her fingers reached up and grabbed yours.

“You’re far too clothed, darling.”

The objection was soft, and you were quick to comply when she pulled the dress up to expose your thighs. You lifted your hips and she moved the dress the rest of the way over your head, tossing it to the side. Her eyes raked hungrily over your dips and curves, hands caressing your sides, watching as your pulled air in and let it out in excitement.

“You knew this was going to happen?” Natasha said with a wolfish smile as she took in the lacy bra and panties that you wore.

“Hoped, really.”

“Do you have a safe word?”

“Do I need one?”

Her smile widened as she expertly slid the buttons from their proper place and pulled her waistcoat off. You were met with tanned skin, with a toned stomach and breasts that you itched to palm. She started to kiss along your neckline, down your chest, and the very start of your stomach. Expertly, she unhooked your own bra, tossing it in the same direction as your dress.

Natasha bit and sucked in the right places and your back arched in eager response. It distracted you from her wandering hands. You shuddered as she pushed past the elastic of your underwear, she brushed her finger up the length of your slit, and a breath got stuck in your throat.

“So wet already, just from a little teasing.”

“Natasha,” You moaned her name.

You squirmed as her touch moved lower, she kissed along your waistline, moved your underwear down your legs until you were fully exposed to her. She let out a content breath that was hot against your center, you fought the urge to press against her.

“Zaychik, I have a few rules,”

“Anything, just… anything.”

She kissed against your thighs, ever so close to you. It was driving you nuts, and while you trusted Natasha with your life, with your sanity, it was you who was struggling with control. You craved her touch and then resented how much you relied on it. You had never wanted anything more in your life.

“You belong to me. And that means, you can only cum when I give you permission.” You whined under her soft ministrations, bucking your hips forward. She bit hard against the expanse of your skin, enough to bruise. “Am I clear?”

“Y-yes, yes. Clear. Crystal. Baby please.”

Natasha hummed against you. “Good girl.”

Your cheeks heated at the positive reinforcement and your fingers curled into the expensive sheets. A gasp escaped you when her tongue met your folds. She licked expertly across the length of your center and an entirely pornographic noise left your throat when she stopped at your clit, sucking softly.

You could feel your heartbeat in your chest, pounding against your ribs in a perfect rhythm. Natasha slid a singular finger into you. It was painfully slow, and far from enough to fill you up. You resisted the urge to grind further into her. Another finger, another soft noise.

A combination of her quick movements and attention mouth brought you close to the edge embarrassingly fast. You had thought of this moment for months, how skilled she was, how your naked body would be writhing under her touch exactly as it was now.

When Natasha added a third finger, your mind started to grow foggy. You had known for awhile that you would do anything for her. It wasn’t a feeling that you shied away from in the slightest. Excitement was building in your core, breath coming quicker, sweat slicking against every inch of your body.

“Remember your manners, baby girl.” Natasha’s words vibrated against your core, making your squirm. “Not until I say.”

Her fingers curled inside of you, your walls tightening expertly around her. It took everything in you not to give in to her. There was an impossible pressure building inside of you. You gasped in as much air as you could muster.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You,” the answer came without hesitation. “Only you,”

“That’s right. You’re all mine, my little toy.”

Her words only worked you up more. You wanted to take care of her, wanted to worship her. You’d do anything she commanded. The word slipped past your lips without a second thought. She was working so hard to undo you. “Natasha… mommy”

Natasha let out a moan at the title, her pace increasing. She returned her hot mouth to your clit, circled it with your tongue expertly. She mumbled against you, words vibrating. “You can cum, princess.”

She didn’t’ have to tell you twice. You tightened around her fingers, arching off the bed as pure extasy washed over you. You clenched every part of your body, groaning into the crook of your arm to muffle the noise. Pleasure rolled over you, through the pit of your stomach.

Her mouth continued to work throughout the lingering pressure of your orgasm, threatening to build to another one. Natasha pulled her fingers from you with a wet noise. She breathlessly moved herself next to you, kissing your neck, your jawline. Natasha pressed her fingers against your lips, and you were eager and ready to accept them. 

You could taste yourself on her, sucking them as she nipped at your earlobe. She whispered, feeling hot against your skin. “Such a good whore, so willing and ready to suck anything. Take anything. I can’t wait to give you a strap.”

Your heart began to race at the thought, and she smiled against you, clear that she could feel the increase of the rhythm from your closeness. Natasha removed her fingers, she kissed you hard, and you kissed her back with just as much passion, pulling away slightly to stifle a yawn.

“Tired already, Zaychik?”

You chuckled “you wear me out. Though, I’m not too worn out to make you feel good.”

“Mm, you’ve already made me feel good. I think we should get some sleep.”

You wanted to fight her on it, body still trembling from the rolling orgasm she had given you. But exhaustion was fighting too and Natasha readjusted you both until you were settled gently into the crook of her neck, one arm lazily over her midsection. She was gentle and attentive with her movements. Brushing strands of your hair behind your ear. Who knew Natasha Romanoff was a cuddler?

A spring storm had taken full effect by the time you had crossed back into the city, but it seemed that nothing could dampen your mood. The clouds that formed in dark clusters and released sheets of rain were something of beauty, not despair. The day was still warm, the breeze cold to cut through the sweat that formed on your brow. You’d cracked the window, allowing stray drops to cool your skin.

You stopped by the mailbox on the bottom floor, wiggling the smallest key on your ring into the lock until it opened. You barely checked the mail and it was stuffed full of coupons, advertisements, and the occasional statement from Veronica’s after-school daycare.

You tucked the papers under your arm and started the long ascent to your floor. You avoided the nails that stuck up through cheap wood. The spots in the carpet that had been soaked through with water damage. None of it seemed to bother you.

“Good morning, Miss Baxter.” You mumbled to the older woman who always perched in front of her door in a busted lawn chair. She had a perfect view of her neighbor across the hall. Her little, crusty white dog barked in morse code at you.

“What’s so good about it? Raining buckets and everything in this godforsaken place leaks.”

“Well, I suppose that’s where the buckets would come in handy.”

She made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat but you were already a good portion of the way up the final flight of stairs. You pressed your shoulder tactfully against your apartment door pushing it open before you threw the mail on the table and flicked on the kitchen light. The air conditioning chilled you to the bone, drying the damp spots on your clothes.

There was a click in the far side of the room, one that was unfamiliar from the ticking of the air unit, or the settling of an old building. You were used to those noises. This was entirely too human for your liking, so you drew your gun in a fluid movement, much like the other night.

Without hesitation, flicking off the safety and aiming.

Darcy was sitting in the beaten recliner in the corner. There was an upturned book on the side of the chair. You weren’t sure how long she had been sitting there, but from the bags under her eyes, the way her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, you knew it had been awhile.

You instantly lowered the weapon, hands suddenly shaking. “Darcy, what are you-?”

“I… I knew that something was up these last few months. I thought you had started seeing someone, a regular at the diner, or, or God forbid the dude who works behind the grill. But when I went to the diner you weren’t even there. They said you hadn’t been there for months. And can you please put that thing away?”

“Sorry, I’m sorry” your words were pinched as you rebolstered your weapon. “I can explain.”

“Can you?” She stood, closing the distance between you both now that there wasn’t a loaded gun in the middle. You straightened up, heart pounding haplessly in your chest. “Because Monica Rambeau came up to me at work the other day and told me that you were lying. She… she wouldn’t tell me what, just that you weren’t being truthful, and I defended you, y/n.

“I defended you because you’re my best friend. You have been for years. I’ve stood by you through everything. Through meeting Ronnie’s father, and getting pregnant and comforting you when he left you- because he did leave both of you!”

“Darcy,”

“No. Let me finish. Let me finish. I’ve been here for you every step of the way. Every single step and the only thing that I’ve ever expected from you is honesty. Don’t you think I deserve that? Don’t you think Ronnie deserves that?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, watching her carefully as she caught her breath, and her bearings. You had only seen Darcy this angry once, and it had been years ago. Sophomore year of high school when her parents decided to split, and her father tried to get her to move to Washington state with him.

She fought and fought because they waited until the last minute to tell her. They weren’t truthful, and you hadn’t been truthful either. More importantly, in both situations, she had been right.

“The y/n I know, can’t draw a gun like that, and doesn’t come home covered in bruises, and doesn’t flinch into action at every little noise. The y/n I know wouldn’t have lied to me in the first place. So, what is going on?”

“Can we… sit?”

You didn’t entirely trust the strength of your legs right now. Parts of you were sore, you had realized that as you climbed the stairs. You could feel them trembling now and fought the urge to curl up on the carpet that was right under your feet.

“I’m fine standing.”

“A drink, then? It’s uh, it’s five somewhere, right?”

“y/n.”

“Right, yes. I know.”

And you did know, but only to a certain extent. If Monica hadn’t gone to Darcy, would you have? It was a single night of drunken lovemaking followed by a less-than-graceful exit into the cold of autumn. There was a tightness to seeing her again, and the underlying fear that this would happen. But so many things were happening.

“I am sorry that I haven’t been truthful with you, but you have to believe me, it was for your own safety. For Ronnie’s safety. I would never lie without a good reason.”

“Well, that’s subjective, isn’t it?” Darcy’s breathed “You always think you know what’s best for me, what’s best to hide from me. But you don’t know what I can handle.”

Okay, you absolutely needed that drink. Darcy wasn’t going to leave now, not without answers she was pushing so hard for. Ronnie was getting too tall for her own good, so you hid the good liquor in the cabinet above the fridge.

Bourbon, warm or not, was your choice and right now you couldn’t bother with ice, just a mug that you had gotten from a thrift store. It was from Cabo and had a little white sand beach and a flamingo wearing sunglasses on the front. You’d never been to Cabo.

The first sip went down burning, and the second soothed the first. “I took a loan.”

“Like, from a bank?”

“From a shark. Technically. They don’t call them that, but that’s what they are. I didn’t realize it at the time, or else I wouldn’t have, but I was already two months behind on rent and I refused to ask you to cover me again. That’s not your responsibility. You already do so much for me and Ronnie.”

She opened her mouth to object, to rush in and say that she would have given you anything and you knew she would. But that didn’t change the fact that you wouldn’t have asked her in the first place.

“I didn’t pay them back in time and they weren’t very lenient. They took me under their custody to persuade me into coming up with the money.”

“Persuade? Their custody?”

“Kidnapped… beat within an inch of death. Whatever way you look at it, I was on their bad side.”

With horrible judgement you filled up another two fingers of whisky, only swallowing half but making eye contact with Darcy as you had done so. Simmering behind her deep blue stare was a mix of pity you were desperate to avoid. It soon dwindled back into discontent and that made you want to continue.

“I was spared on account that I wasn’t their usual clientele. Natasha, she called me… shit, what was it? An oversight? I was a blip in the system. I wasn’t supposed to happen and for that reason, and that reason alone, she offered me an ultimatum.”

Darcy sidled up to the counter that rested like a drawn line between you both. Her fingers tapped nervously on the surface but some of the tension had drained from her shoulders. “Natasha? That.. woman from the fair? The one with Clint?”

“Oh, Clint, you remember?” You smiled.

“He’s strong. Rugged.” She shrugged, frowning “That’s not the point. You’re telling me he’s a part of this sharking business? You’re telling me you let a known criminal that close to your daughter? To me?”

“I get how that sounds bad, Dee, but he’s really not a horrible guy. He’s a father himself and you’re right. You’re right. It’s not the point.” You swallowed the second half of your drink and placed the novelty mug in the sink to stop yourself from polishing off more of the bottle. “They gave me an ultimatum.”

“An ultimatum?”

“I could kill myself working at the diner everyday for the rest of my life. Twelve-hour shifts with most of the funds feeding right back into their palms. It would take decades to give back the money I took from them. Or, I could work for Natasha and pay off my debts in a quarter of the time.”

Silence filled the room. The only type of silence that you knew, that was filled with the sounds of the city. Your neighbors to the left were having a fight that seemed bigger than the one you and Darcy had now. A boombox blasted reggae music across the street and certain beats bled through the thin glass windows.

You swallowed the acrid flavor on your tongue. “For the last four months instead of the diner, I have been with Natasha. With Clint. They’ve been teaching me, and at first, I hated every single second of it. I was scared for… for weeks. But, Darcy, I’m starting to enjoy it and that scares me more than anything.”

“I need to sit down,” She mumbled.

“I offered,”

“I know.”

She flopped down onto the sofa that folded out into a bed. You’d slept there for a month when Darcy’s apartment was being fumigated and you refused to make her take the couch. It was hell on your back, but Ronnie had never been happier to wake up to the both of you each morning.

It carried a familiar clean scent. Darcy pulled a blanket into her lap and ran her fingers over the bumps in stitching. You cautiously lowered yourself down next to her, starting to feel the effects of an empty stomach and too much liquor for the afternoon. You were suddenly nauseous and starving all at once.

“There’s more,” Darcy said, “What you just told me was a lot, but there’s more. I know you, y/n, and I’m giving you an opportunity here to tell me everything.”

You sighed, slumping on the couch. You could feel the bar in the center of the couch push against your spine. There was a crack in the ceiling next to a gray and brown water stain that looked like a Rorschach test.

“Natasha. I think I’m in love with her.” You could hear Darcy turn her head with a dizzying quickness. “I’m not supposed to be, it’s the last thing I’m supposed to be. I’m supposed to be protecting her and that’s incredibly hard to do when I’m distracted by her eyes.”

Darcy was laughing and it lightened the mood in the room. The tension was still thick enough to slice with a knife, but it was enough to get you to look at her. “You’ve got it bad, huh?”

“The worst.”

“You really think this is what’s best, huh? Putting yourself into the line of fire like this? Handling a gun?”

“I do. I really, really do.” You picked up her hand, relieved that she didn’t pull away so you squeezed it, just to make sure that it was real. That she hadn’t run at the first sign of trouble. “I always tell Ronnie that I’d get us out of here one day. All of us. And I never knew how to do that on $2.00 an hour.”

Darcy sighed heavily; she leaned her head on your shoulder. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know. But some risks you just have to take.”

The sun had broken through the clouds for the first time in days. It streamed through the windows of Natasha’s private office, nestled at the back of the large house. In the past week, you had been here twice and each time your heart thudded impossibly fast.

This time, she had summoned you before you were through the doors for your normal shift. There were no extra caveats. You weren’t meant to head down to the docks, or to one of the many storefronts that were rented from the Romanoff family. Instead, you were simply meant to be here.

The home was empty, you knew from the lack of cars that were outside. Natasha’s was the only one in the lot besides yours. There was a certain quiet to the day and the French doors that led to her private office were ajar to strengthen the airflow.

She was focused on the work in front of her, hair in a messy bun and two strands falling from her haphazard job. There were black frame glasses on her face. Her face was scrunched up in a frankly adorable expression. It softened when she glanced up and saw you, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

Much to your dismay, she removed her glasses “Come in, close the doors behind you.”

You did as you were told, letting them fall with the subtle shake of the blinds. They’d been closed but a small stream of golden light was splayed across Natasha’s desk. It caught the intensity of her eyes, the sharp green color that only came out when she was surrounded by these walls.

“Sit,”

Obediently, you moved to do so, pulling one of the leather chairs out from its spot on the other side of the desk. You felt shame, despite last night. She was still your boss, still the person you were meant to protect. That’s what you were being altered for.  

“Not there.”

You lifted your eyebrows, halting in your spot. Natasha pushed back in her rolling chair, ever so slightly. She gestured vaguely to her lap. She can’t be serious? This had to be some type of test? It didn’t seem like one. You certainly wouldn’t mind having her arms wrapped around you, her scent enveloping, intoxicating.

Cautiously, you did as you were told, lowering yourself onto Natasha’s lap. There was an overwhelming warmth, a destined comfort to being in her arms, so much safety in the simple gesture of her pulling you close.

She guided your chin until your lips were close to hers, not quite touching. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” You responded before closing the distance. She hummed into the kiss, her tongue running over her lips, against the roof of your mouth. You could taste her morning coffee and a hint of mint.

“I missed you.”

“It’s been two days,”

She hummed, pressing her cold nose against your throat. The weekends were reserved for relaxation, and as much as you wanted to stay with Natasha in this giant house, you had a life within the city; a daughter, friends, responsibility.

“I don’t want you work for me anymore.”

You frowned and pulled slightly away from her, your arms still circling her neck. This certainly had to be a test but there was no indication to such on her face. She had nothing but a tender expression, a quiet one that left no room for argument, but you weren’t built like that.

“What?”

“I,” Natasha dipped her gaze, pressing her forehead against your cheek. Her words were a whisper. “I don’t want you to get hurt. You can’t get hurt if I don’t put you in the line of fire.”

There were a few moments of silence aside from the large clock on one of the bookshelves that clicked with each passing second. Natasha had never been vulnerable with you like this. There had been moments of soft expressions, but never this.

Gently, you lifted her chin, forcing her to look at you. “Natasha, I can’t do that. I can’t just stop protecting you. It’s all I’ve been training for these last months.”

“I want to offer you something more, y/n. You and Ronnie both. I want you to have a home here… with me.”

You breathed her in, your forehead against hers. Your eyes were closed, but you could feel her watching you for any kind of reaction, anything that would give your feelings away. She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture making your shudder against her.

“I want that too. But more than anything, I want to keep you safe. I still want this. I still want to be there for you like I have been. Behind you every step of the way.” You chuckled sadly, “While being a trophy girlfriend sounds amazing, I want to earn my keep.”

Natasha smiled at you, “Girlfriend? That’s quite the title.”

“I mean it,” you played with her necklace, an equally as small gold chain. “I want to keep training. Girlfriend or not. If you’re going to keep me around.”

She moved forward, kissed against the small expanse of skin behind your ear, down the side of your neck. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Mmhm, but I was serious about you and Ronnie.” She pulled back, brushing her thumb over your flushed cheek. “I like you, y/n. You make me happy.”

Before you could respond, her lips were against yours again, her hands tracing up your sides. You were well aware of how close the two of you were, of how easy it was to get heated in this position, of Natasha’s cold fingertips as they ghosted under the hem of your shirt.

“I brought pizza from that place on the corner that you like,” You balanced the large and greasy box on your hip. It wasn’t your favorite place, the man behind the counter was always rude and the line was out the door. But it was for good reason, you had to admit, because the food was always delicious and made you forget about all the complications.

Darcy ate pineapple on her half the pizza like a criminal. You and Veronica were content with pepperoni, but you’d have to sprinkle extra parmesan cheese on her slices, cutting them into small pieces and providing her with a fork.

There was quiet to Darcy’s apartment. One that reminded you of the many times you had pulled your weapon in preparation. Your hands were full with the box, with a plastic bag filled with off-brand soda and two-dollar movies that were on the shelf at the corner store.

You struggle to swallow your own fear at the sight that lies in front of you. The television is muted, but a cartoon continues to cast the living room in a pale, blue light. Darcy is sprawled on the couch, her chest rising and falling in what seems to be a heavy sleep.

The light above the oven is on and the kitchen table is far from unoccupied. Ronnie looks up at your entrance, content with the array of markers, colored pencils, and crayons that are scattered in front of her.

Carol Danvers sits in an adjacent chair, working on staying in the lines of her own picture. You weren’t close enough to see what she had drawn, but based on her track-record you were sure it was something ghastly.

Monica Rambeau sat in the recliner, a mug of something steaming in her hand. Her eyes were trained on the television despite the lack of sound. They didn’t flick to you when you entered. She was confident that you weren’t going to make a move. Cocky.

“Is that from Ginos?” Carol asked, capping the marker that she was using. “God, they have the best pizza.”

“Yeah, it is.” You whispered.

Cautiously, you let the door close behind you. With an almost domestic way about you, you set the box and the bags down on the counter before wiping the sweat on your jeans. You made quick eye contact with Monica. She nodded at you, regarded you quietly.

“Sit, I was just telling Veronica that she’s very good at coloring. You’ve got a real artist on your hands, Y/n.”

“So, I’ve been told.” You sat down, keeping both of your hands on the table. Kate told you that it was a sign of trust. That if you were quick enough, and she was sure that you were, it wouldn’t matter how far away your weapon was. “What did you do to Darcy?”

“Oh, she’s just so exhausted. Sometimes working a nine-to-five will just take it right out of you. She’ll wake up tomorrow morning after some much needed rest.”

You nodded; mouth incredibly dry. Carol was watching you carefully. She had scribbled something that looked like a mass of color but the more you stared, just like the stain on the ceiling in your own apartment, the more it looked like something more.

She laughed, shaking her head “I’m afraid I’m not as good of an artist as your daughter.”

Ronnie looked at you, her eyes searching your face. It was easy to read her. You had for years. There was curiosity there, but no fear. Carol had probably led with something along the lines of I’m friends with your mother.

Or maybe it had been Monica who forced her way in first. She’d wandered into the kitchen and opened the box of food. Her nose scrunched up at the prospect of fruit on pizza, but she made quick work of picking off the offensive items.

Carol pushed the sheet of paper close to you. “Tell me, y/n, what do you see?”

“I… I don’t know. It looks like a duck.” She lifted her eyebrows, looking or more, and you confidently pointed to each element. “The beak is right here, and the eye is here.”

“Right.” Carol made a swift movement and flipped the photo. “What does it look like now?”

For someone that claimed not to have a good eye for art, Carol sure had a high opinion of a diagram she’d created with a few waxy crayons. It wasn’t the best drawn creature, but you got the general idea.

“A rabbit.”

Carol beamed at you and it made you feel sick to your stomach. “Clever one, aren’t you? Do you see how the world can be viewed in more than one way? To you, this could be a duck, or a rabbit, or just a poorly drawn abstract painting.”

“It’s very well done.”

“Don’t flatter me. I know what I’m capable of. I know what I’m up against. More importantly, I need you to know that sometimes, perspective can change everything.” She leaned back in her chair, rolling a crayon under her fingertips. “The Romanoff family is on the wrong side of an ongoing war, and by association, so are you.”

Veronica got out of her chair then, finally losing interest in the activity that was given to her. Monica and Carol tensed, as did you. But your daughter gave you a look that indicated television. Something else to occupy her mind. You let out a shaky breath.

“Sure, baby. Keep it low, okay?”

She nodded at you and scrambled over to the living room. There were soft noises from the cartoons afterwards. She sat patiently close to the screen to she could hear. She minded you well, hugging a throw-pillow close to her chest.

“It was very easy to track you down. Did you know that? Almost as easy to get in here, to have full access to your life. The life you had before you met Natasha Romanoff.” Carol reached into her coat pocket, she pulled out a business card. “You need to choose a side. If you’re going to stick around in this town, you need to choose a side, or get better locks.”

She left it on the table along with the smattering of art supplies and her crudely drawn photo that was supposed to teach you about perspective. Though, you were certain you knew all you needed to. There wasn’t even a question.

Carol stood and gestured for Monica to follow. She clapped you on the shoulder before she left, her words just the quietest of whispers. “I understand her allure, y/n. But there’s more than one force to deal with in this city.”

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[sectumsempraaa]

Threads of Solace

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!reader

Word count: 1.8k

TW: Panic/mental distress, kissing, it's mostly fluff :)

Based on this request. Thank you Emma!!

Summary: As the fifth years prepare for OWL exams, you struggle to cope with your reoccurring test anxiety. Your boyfriend Theo acts as a calming source, helping you make it through to your shared summer vacation.

AN: No Italian translation bc y'all... we know this by now

“Come on bella, you know this one!” Theo encourages you while holding up one of the note cards you made. You’ve been studying for hours together up in the astronomy tower.

Biting your lip in concentration, you start to wonder if you ever paid attention in Charms class.

“You can’t do that,” Theo grumbled, the slightest smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. You look into his dark eyes, slightly delirious from how late it is. You’ve been spending every night this week up here, stressing over your upcoming OWLs.

“Do what?” you ask, looking back to the card he’s holding up to your gaze. Without thinking, you bite down on your lip again, with more pressure this time, digging in the depths of your brain for the answer. It feels utterly hopeless.

“That.” He brushes his thumb over your mouth, bringing your attention to his face as it leans closer to yours. His eyes run over the spot on your bottom lip that’s now slightly pink and irritated. While you examine his features, your mind slowly wanders to other thoughts… 

Gods he is beautiful. He is the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen. Handsome, stunning-

You suddenly gasp, your eyes darting back to the note card. “Stunning spell!” you cried out. His lingering hand grabs your chin and pulls you towards him, kissing you so delicately it almost hurts. His other hand crumples the note card, throwing it off the side of the tower.

“Corretta.” He whispers, pulling away from you. His expression fades to a frown as you let out a long, frustrated groan, covering your face with your hands. Confusion washes over him, tilting his head slightly.

“I’m doomed. I’m so utterly, completely doomed.” You state, your voice laced with dread. You feel one of his hands rub your back, shifting himself closer to you. “It shouldn’t have taken me that long to figure it out. I won’t have that kind of time during exams.”

Despite the fatigue racking your body, you mindlessly exhibit one of your anxious habits. You never really notice it, especially with your mind in a million different places, but he does. He notices how every time your heart rate picks up, you rub a hand over your chest. And he notices the others, too. The nail biting, the leg shaking, and the shortened breath.

He packs up your bag, stowing away any and all study materials. His hand rests on your thigh, his thumb tracing light circles on your skin. The touch of plastic and thread grazes your skin. It gets your attention, your fingers instinctively gravitating towards the beaded bracelet on his wrist that you made him a couple months ago.

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s call it a night.” He starts, giving you a sympathetic look and a kiss on your cheek.

He doesn’t get the same nerves you do around exams, but he will do whatever it takes to soothe yours. “And you’re sleeping in my dorm so I can make sure you don’t try to stay up even later for this.”

You let your mind go blank as you fidget the beads around in your fingers, letting the distraction ground you. It brings a smile to your face, and his, reminding you what awaits on the other side of these gruesome tests: a whole summer with Theo.

—

After that night, Theo sat you down and devised a study schedule with you. This eased your worries a bit, making it all feel a little more manageable. Each day you’d meet in the astronomy tower for two hours, spending a half hour on each subject. 

You weren’t fully convinced it would be enough, but it would do for now. Plus, he doesn’t have to know about the three additional hours you’d stay up in your dorm with your textbooks.

Today, you’re in the Great Hall having breakfast with Theo and some of your Slytherin friends. Mattheo and Draco are sitting across from you, snacking on pastries and sipping tea. Both of them are flipping pages of pages of library books and staring intently at their pages. It seems everyone is in study mode.

“Can’t wait to get these bloody exams over with,” Draco starts, making his low level of investment extremely clear. “The damn things are a waste of time.”

Mattheo sighs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Well, next week they’ll be over and we’ll all be free from your unending complaints.”

“Like I even need to take them…” Draco mutters to himself.

“Not all our dads can buy us a career, Draco.” Mattheo fires back, his voice drowns out as the realization hits you like a ton of bricks.

They start next week. 

Your body grows still, as panic starts to set in. You nearly choke on your toast, looking up to Mattheo with widened eyes and a colorless face. He lifts a concerned brow at you before glancing at Theo. They’re talking but you can’t hear them. You are completely checked out.

In your mind, the thoughts are racing so fast you can’t keep up with them.

I’ll fail. I won’t have a career. I’ll be a disappointment.

You can already feel the pressure of the clock ticking and the sound of quills around you writing effortless answers while yours is stone cold solid. 

Breathing becomes harder as more thoughts pollute your mind.

Slow. Unprepared. Lost cause.

The image of students standing up to hand in their completed exams plagues you. Then, you faintly hear it, following its tune. That deep, soothing voice. Theo’s.

“Tesoro, come back.” His gentle voice echoes from one ear to the other as it attempts to pry you from your daze. You feel a warm hand softly grip your thigh, willing it to stop shaking. “Come back, Y/N. I’m right here.”

Your head turns to him, your eyes blinking like you’re coming out of a trance. You meet his gaze for a second before taking in your surroundings. Sounds start to become clearer and rapidly moving colors start to break and fade away. Your heart slows down, settling back to normal.

“There’s my girl,” he says, placing a hand on your back, stroking your hair. He grabs your dominant hand, pulling it towards him as you continue to adjust back to reality. “Here.”

You watch as his hands tie a bracelet around your wrist, a twin to the one on his.

“I tried to make it like the one you made me. Pansy helped, of course.” He explained. Your fingers start to fiddle with it in your other hand, the way you do with his when you’re stressed. “Now you can have one all the time.”

The bracelet is made up of dark olive green and gold string, adorned with tiny white beads engraved with both your initials. You smile at his effort, the way his thread is a little more frayed and the beads are a bit too slanted. You love it. It’s perfectly Theo.

“Thank you, amore mio. I would have had to drag you to my tests and forced you to sit next to me if you hadn’t made this.” You laughed, shaking off the rest of your panic and melting into his touch.

You look at him, noticing the mesmerized expression on his face as he scans you in awe. He’s looking at you like you’re his sun, moon, and stars. He suddenly cups your face with his hands and brings his lips to yours, sending every ounce of joy and passion into your kiss. You smile against him, letting a laugh escape into his mouth.

“You can’t do that, either.” He breathes, grinning and resting his forehead on yours. “You drive me crazy, cara mia.” You rarely respond to him in Italian, usually saving it for ‘special occasions.’

Your heart is still swelling from the gift. It starts to hit you how much support you have, how many people believe in you. It makes everything feel a little less daunting. That no matter what, you have them, and this pretty wonderful boy.

“The exams… the scores, they don’t matter, really. Do they?” You ask sheepishly, looking down at your lap. You have told yourself this over and over, but your brain never lets you accept it. Because why does your mind crumble for something so meaningless?

Something about saying it out loud made it feel real. Maybe you just needed to say it, to be heard.

“They matter just about as much as the tea stains on Draco’s fancy new jumper.” He laughs, gesturing his head towards the blonde boy who scowls at the realization. You miss it though, too busy nurturing the comfort Theo just provided you.

—

Weeks later, you’re laying on a bed, legs hooked around Theo’s. The warm Italian sun just starts to creep in through the bedroom curtains of his family’s cozy villa, where neither of you are wearing clothes. You wake up first, your half-asleep self reaching for his bracelet to play with.

Every day you’ve been here, just two of you, exploring the local towns and forgetting real life exists. You of course made it through exams, maybe the easiest round of them you’ve ever had. Turns out Theo’s study schedule really was enough.

Your eyelids flutter open slowly, your lips leaving gentle kisses across his broad chest as he begins to shift beneath you. His hands find their way up your back, grazing your skin with his fingertips. This new morning routine never fails to make you smile.

Suddenly, a familiar noise comes from the kitchen. The definitive brush of envelopes dropping on wood is enough to know what it is. Your OWL scores are here.

“Hmm, you want to go look, bella?” His voice hoarse from sleep. His hands lift off you, leaving a slight chill where they were resting. You don’t respond at first, your mind attempting to suck you back into panic. 

But then you feel it, his bracelet rubbing against the same one on your wrist. A subtle reminder. You blink back to the present moment, his face slightly confused as you nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck, your weight unmoving as you settle back into his embrace.

“No. And put your hands back, please. I have no intention of moving from this spot anytime soon.” You say, a smirk spreading across your face. His chest moves with the laughter escaping his mouth.

He kisses the top of your head, many, many times. You genuinely don’t care what’s in the envelope. The only part of your future you’re concerned about is making sure you get to do this every summer with your favorite person in the world.

You close your eyes, wrapping your arms a little tighter around him, letting yourself drift off. He whispers, the phrase making your heart flutter.

“There’s my girl.”

[ruewrote]

𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑛𝑑.

PAIRING: carl gallagher x gn!reader WARNINGS: none GENRE: fluff SONG INSPIRATION: lull by vraell [guitar version] WORD COUNT: 538 REQUESTED: yes

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leaning back in your chair, rubbing your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon you sat in front of your computer screen staring at the unfinished work.

a tired sigh leaving your lips as you swiped the piece of hair that didn't quite make it into the rushed ponytail that you created earlier.

starting to bite the skin around your nails as you watched the cursor blink, almost mimicking you. writing for hours hadn't gotten you anywhere, still having to do two other assignments too, fear started creeping up on you.

it had been the same fear that you had felt countless times before, the fear of failure. despite all of your hard work and preparation, you just couldn't escape the nagging feeling that you'd not be good enough.

maybe it’s because you're afraid of what your parents will think of you or maybe it’s simply because you are terrified of not living up to your own expectations. whatever the reason was, the fear was very real.

tears welled up in your eyes as the panic set in, well that was all until a knock was heard from your bedroom window. looking over confused made eye contact with a very excited carl holding up a bag of what looked like groceries?

letting out a faint chuckle as you stood up from your bed, opening the window and actually being face to face with him felt like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders.

"let me in i got the good shit," he grinned at you as he shook the plastic bag.

squeezing your eyes shut tightly, trying to stop the tears from flowing overwhelmed by the kind gesture. shoulders shaking as you slumped in on yourself.

carls smile dropped, throwing the bag on your bed behind you before jumping over your window. carefully pulling you into his arms as you cried into his shoulder. your tears wetting the material but he couldn't careless and neither could you.

"it's okay, im here. you're alright," one of his hands tangled in your hair and one on your lower back, tugging you closer to him.

that's how you stood for a good five minutes, carl giving you time and comfort. this was all that you needed over these past two weeks instead of stressing yourself out over pointless things.

the two of you now moved over to your bed binging on the sweet treats that he'd brought over, some christmas movie that you'd both seen a million times together playing in the background as you joked with each other.

explaining to him how everything just got to be too much.

"i mean i can't say too much since i've not got the best track record of doing my own school work nevermind worrying about it," that made you laugh, looking down and picking at the fuzzy material of your socks.

"but you've got a good head on your shoulders, almost perfect grades and you still make time for the people 'round you? dude i'd say you're living the life right now. a bit of a boring life but ya know!"

narrowing your eyes at him, playfully pinching his side making him yelp and jump away from you pouting.

"rude."

© ruewrote.

[olive-fics]

Studying with Abby. SFW

You missed your best gf, Abby flipping Anderson. Of course you wanted to hang out with her.. but she was studying.. whatever. she can multitask ..Right??

☆Reader is hyperactive/neurodivergent in ways (?), Abby can get annoyed and angry..., slight angst, petnames, FEM reader, comfort at end.☆

For the girls and the gays, Men leave! (please)

☆My awesome friend Ara gave me this idea so Ilysm! <3 ☆

CORRECT ME ON MY MISTAKES PLEASE!!!

"Sit still.." *Abby would groan placing her thick fingers on your hips, nudging you down into her hips. "You can't sit on my lap anymore if you keep moving peach, 'tis too distracting.." Abby would rub her nose and temples annoyed, not at you fully of course but the way you kept moving against her hips alone.

-This was probably your 4th time shifting on Abby's lap in just these past 10 minutes.

"Oh c'mon...you're hard to sit on when you study over the desk ..can't we just go lay down..? Get comfy..?"

"How the hell will I study when I'm laying down y/n." She was upset, something she never was with you.

"wh-"

"Please.. just- go sit down..I'll join you in a bit? Please let me study baby girl." Abby asked with a sigh.

As much as it hurt you, you still obliged to her command and sat down on the couch in her room. Of course you couldn't focus without being next to Abby, it made you nervous. Just sitting away from her made you anxious, that's when everything was louder and 10x intensified. The urge to bite your nails, sweat, click your tongue, crack knuckles, whatever you could fidget with was much more impulsive than usual.

Right as you decided to check your phone's time or mindlessly scroll online, it died. of course... time to do that fucking walk of shame up to Abby (who was now upset with you) and ask her if you can play piano tiles, candy crush or whatever games she let you download on her phone.

Getting up from the couch your bunny slippers shuffled across her mahogany floors with that airy "pfft" sound when the ears flipped up with each step.

"A-Abby..?" Fuck.. of course your voice was falling out. You got so nervous when Abby acted like this, which rarely happens.

Abby's office chair didn't move, instead Abby just replied short.

"Hm? what do you need."

"Can.. can I borrow your phone.. for- for games...?"

As much as Abby wanted to be angry at everything your stammering made her laugh.

"Such an Ipad kid..sure sure.." She sighed again, giving you mixed signals.

Abby handed you her Iphone, Abby had those clear cases with a little polaroid of you and her on the back encased by the plastic.

You smiled softly and ran off back to the couch bundling up under the blankets. Your fingers tapping at the screen and small sounds or music emitted from under the blankets. "Sweet!" "Tasty.." "Delicious."

As much as you were lost in Abby's screen you didn't even notice her calling your name...

"Y/n? Honey turn it down." "Y/n please, I need to finish studying.."

It was too late once you did hear her though, Abby was already on her feet marching to your place on the couch. She had pulled the blanket off of your head and gave you a small annoyed hand gesture.

"You gonna turn it down or do I have to take it from you?"

Embarrassment flushed out your cheeks into a bright red. How could you not hear her..?? You felt so stupid.

"I-I'm sorry Abs.. I- I'll turn it down.. I-.." Why were you stuttering now..? You felt so weak and little as Abby stood over you.

Abby could notice your mind rattling as you overthought the whole situation growing frustrated.

"Hey..Hey it's okay..i didn't mean to hurt your feelings love.. I'm so sorry." Abby frowned and held out her arms to you for a big hug.

With slight hesitation you still accepted Abby's hug and stuffed your face deep into her shoulders, the smell of her pine soap and hair washes filled your nose as you hugged her tightly.

"I'm almost done. Can you wait another 10 minutes?" Abby reassured you she would cuddle and chill with you as much as you wanted after. "Alright. I'm right here okay? Just wait a few." How was Abby so good at making you feel better. ughhhhhhhhh

After hearing Abby's keyboard click and her pencil dragging over her notebook for what seemed like forever, she finally got out of her office chair and looked at you with the warmest smile ever.

Abby walked over to you and draped the blanket over the two of you.

“I’m sorry Y/N. Movie night..?”

Fuck yes.?!?! Movie nights with Abby were the best. But then she hit the..

“I picked last time- what do you want to watch Pumpkin?”

God..you wanted to pick your favorite ofcourse..The muppets. (100% best movies…) but..you felt so bad for pestering her while studying so you put one of her favorite boring War movies on.

“Really..? You want to watch that..?”

Abby was kinda shocked you picked one of her favorites,but how you described it was..

“The Micheal Bay Film with the guns..and war-“

Abby put it on and kissed your forehead pulling you into her to cuddles.

“C’mon..I’m sorry about earlier..I love you..yknow that.?”

You nod and smile softly just emerging into her warmth and into the blankets because you just needed to sleep everything off,so did Abby.

“I love you princess..”

“I love you too…Abby..”

♡

HII sorry for lack of posts I cannot write cus my brain is slow.😞🔥‼️ but I have an Ellie Williams one shot or something coming up!! (Srs..) okay Goodnight :3 and thank you Ara for giving me this idea!!

[teenytinyecho]

One is Not Enough, right?

Pairing: F! OC x GN! Reader x M! OC

Warnings: none

A/N: we've got more of our favorite couple together! sorry if there's any errors, english isn't my first language :) i'll be writing a new character for the next few posts so stay tuned!

You slowly walk through the bustling students getting out of the class, wincing a little when a boy bumped into you a bit too hard. You quicken your steps as you tighten your hold on the plastic bag on your hand.

Your class ended early and you used the chance to buy one of the bentos in the cafeteria. It's not that tasty but it's the better food than the other ones. You'd actually die if you ate that three day old pizza.

Opening the side entrance, you quickly jog to one of the empty tables outside that's covered by the trees. Today wasn't that hot and you didn't feel eating inside so you're taking the chance to get some fresh air.

Sitting down with a huff, you placed your bag besides you and open the plastic bag to grab your lunch.

"Oh! Look who we have here."

You glance at your side to see Lana standing besides you with her arms crossed. It's evident she just finished gym class with her outfit, but you're wondering why she didn't change yet.

"Can I sit here?" She sits down before you can even answer, flicking her hair. "Gym class today sucks, ya know? It's so boring that Mr. Smith only lets us play dodgeball while he lays around."

"Why are you telling me this?" You ask while opening the bento, grabbing the chopsticks while ignoring Lana's pout.

"Come on, (y/n)! We're friends, I have the privilege to tell you stuff."

"I thought you did that with Jake," You hum. "Where is he by the way? Thought you had the same gym class."

Lana shrugs, looking at her nails. "He's changing. He's also buying us lunch so don't mind us eating here."

You stare at Lana with a bored stare. "Don't you usually eat inside with your friends? You've been eating with me for the past week."

She shrugs with an innocent smile, sitting more closer until she's touching shoulders with you. "We needed some space from eating with them, Jake's been getting bored with their stories. And we saw you eating alone! So it's a win win situation for us."

"Why is it a win for me anyway?"

Lana slightly slaps your shoulder. "Rude. Our presence enough is already a blessing for you."

You shrug, taking a bite of your lunch as you watch the students slowly filling the outdoor area. You jump in surprise when Lana places her head on your shoulder and groans slightly.

"Where the hell is Jake? I'm hungry."

You hum nonchalantly, eyeing the doors to see if Jake's coming. Not even a few seconds later, here he comes, with his bag slung over his shoulder and a plastic bag. He's already wearing his usual clothes with his varsity jacket, so you assume he has practice today.

"Babe! Took you long enough," Lana screams besides your ear, cooing an apology to you when she noticed your disgruntled expression.

Jake sighs as he sits down. "Sorry, the line was pretty long since they're selling those cheesecakes."

"Excuses, excuses," Lana clicks her tongue as she grabs her lunch from Jake. He smiles at you and grabs a small bag of gummy bears from the plastic bag. "Here, thought you'd like this."

"Uh, thanks?" You grab the gummy bears with a confused look, glancing at Jake after a few seconds. "They sell these at the cafeteria?"

Jake shrugs and opens his own lunch. "It was there and I grabbed it."

Weird. Usually they don't have these gummy bears, only the cheap knock off ones that you avoid.

But he already bought it for you, so you nod in thanks before placing it inside your bag.

Conversation started to flow more between Lana and Jake, them asking you a few questions every now and then. You're content hearing their conversation because sometimes both of them talk a lot.

"Hey, (y/n)," Jake starts. "Two months from now we're going against that school from the North. You up for coming?"

You chewed whatever's left inside your mouth before answering. "Why would I come?"

Lana huffs. "Uh, hello? Moral support? School spirit?"

"I mean, I can come," You shrug, thinking if that can make into the schools newspaper. "That way I don't need to interview you after."

"Cool," Jake smiles, showing his dimples. You felt his leg brushed against you, but you stayed quiet. They've been acting weird around you...but not enough in your book to be stamped as 'weird'.

"Yay!" Lana cheers, throwing her arms around you. "You can come with us, like in Jake's car! We're not going with the bus, obviously."

"...You can do that?"

"Sure can," Jake answers, throwing away the paper wrap from his burrito. "We've been doing it for a few months. Plus, the coach knows I've never been late."

You think about it for a while. Jake has a really nice car, you've rode it once and it was magical. Better than your car, sadly.

"I mean, I'm cool with it," You say. "But there's gonna be a plus one from the club to take photos."

Jake raises his eyebrow while Lana groans. "Can't you do it, (y/n)?"

You roll your eyes, not in annoyance to Lana but for yourself. You don't have a camera with a high resolution, another member has it and you don't have the guts to actually borrow his camera since it costs so much money.

"Nah, I don't have the right camera. And I can't just borrow—"

"You can borrow mine."

"...What?" You eye Jake.

"Borrow mine," He smiles and shrugs. "It's a gift from my uncle, I've never used it after a few months."

"Oh, that camera," Lana hums, moving away but keeping her hand on your hip. "It's kinda new, right?"

Jake nods, opening his phone to show you the camera.

Damn. That really was a new version of the brand you liked. It literally came out a few months ago.

"Jake, I can't do that. I don't even know how to use it."

"I'll teach you," Jake answers easily. "Come to my house on Friday with Lana and I can teach you."

"Ooh, what a great idea," Lana hums before looking at you. "You're free, right? I have no practice and Jake only has his weekly meet up with his teams."

"Um," You think about this weeks schedule. Your mom canceled the trip to the mall since she needed to work overnight, so you're basically alone in the house. "Don't think I have anything. Sure, I can come."

"Good bunny," Lana smirks, patting your hip before moving away to grab her lunch. You frown at the nickname, but Lana's already talking to Jake about the plans for Friday. You slowly move back to eating your lunch, the nickname disappearing from your head as the three of you talk.

The bell rings. A few students already halfway inside as a few stayed behind to clean up. Jake moves to grab your trash and Lana's before standing up. Lana's texting on her phone before she stands up too, pinching your cheek as she smiles.

"I need to change out of this ugly gym clothes. Be a dear and walk with Jake, yeah?"

You nod. Both of you have math together, so sometimes you walk with Jake when he has the chance.

Jake walks back to the table, grabs his bag and kisses Lana on the lips. "See you later. I'll drive you home, yeah?"

"Okay, babe," Lana smiles and kisses him again before walking backwards. "Bye, (y/n)! Kisses!"

You wave back at Lana before grabbing your bag. You walk besides Jake, his arm grabbing your shoulder. You always wonder why Lana's not disturbed by Jake's physical touch with you.

For all you know, Lana's always bitchy towards anyone who touches Jake the wrong way in her mind. So you're really confused.

"Hey, Jake?"

"Hm?"

"Is Lana okay with you touching me like this?" You glance at his arm around your shoulder before back at him.

He snorts and smiles, playing with your hair as both of you walk through the corridor. "She's fine. Can't say she's ever mad at me or you, right?"

"Well...no," You lamely finished. It never really bothered you that much but sometimes the idea pops in your head.

"Don't worry, angel—We trust each other, plus we like the same things," He shrugs. "So usually we compromise."

"Same things?" You ask with a confused look.

Jake laughs, steering you towards the empty seats in the back of the class. "Yeah, we found this...thing that Lana liked first before I got into it. So we're currently trying to get it. Wish us luck, yeah?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure," You answer, sitting down next to him as the class slowly filled with students. You're curious as to what Jake's talking about but you slowly forgot about it. Maybe in the future they could show you what they're getting.

[floralpascal]

Could You?

Summary: Having survived your bullet wound, you and Ghost both face the consequences of your deepening relationship as Ghost grapples with the impact of almost losing you. (Set right after the events of Nightmare)

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only, mdni!)

Warnings: reader was hit by a bullet, medical talk, canon-level violence, talk of death, secret relationship, mentions of smut, some hurt/comfort

A/N: Thanks to everyone who requested this chapter! Hope you all enjoy!

Illicit Indulgences Series Masterlist

Ghost knew pain. He could handle the bite of the feeling, no matter how intense or prolonged. He had never hit a breaking point from it. 

But guilt? It cut deeper than normal pain. Guilt was a nebulous feeling - an affliction of the psyche that was impossible to stop and damn near inescapable. It gnawed at him from the inside out, like a poison running in his veins. It haunted his every thought and even found him in sleep. The pain of guilt was damn near unbearable. 

Two weeks. You had been in the hospital for two goddamn weeks. For a while, it had been touch-and-go, your situation fluctuating from dire to stable to dire again as the doctors worked to repair the damage from your gunshot wound. A few days after the incident, they had put you in a medically-induced coma. 

Ghost picked at the peeled plastic leather on the armrest of his chair. He scratched his nail under the dried edge of the plastic and pulled, snapping another bit of it off before flicking the flake to the floor absentmindedly. Then, he began the process again with a new section of the material. As the days had worn on, he had slowly torn a gaping hole into the covering. Each day, the hole in the armrest grew wider, just as the hole in his chest did. 

You laid in the bed in front of his chair, tubes and wires crisscrossing over your body. Your face held none of the defining characteristics of sleep that he had come to know. Instead of peaceful, you looked distressed, your eyebrows now pinched even in sleep. A shade of gray now clung to you, almost as if you were sick. 

“Simon.” 

Ghost looked to the door of your room, following the deep, gravelly voice to a disgruntled Price. He stood in the doorway, his eyes trained on Ghost. He wore simple camouflage fatigues, a change from the last time Ghost had seen him in your hospital room. Ghost also noticed that Price had trimmed his beard since then, as well. 

How long ago had that been? 

“I told you to get out of here,” Price grumbled.

“‘n I told you I’m fine.”

Price let out a huff of air before he moved closer. Under the harsh fluorescent lights, Price looked tired and solemn. He eyed the flakes strewn around the hard linoleum at Ghost’s feet. “Why’re you here? Why’re you doin’ this to yourself?”

Ghost leaned back in his chair, eyes falling back to where you laid. He couldn’t hold Price’s gaze anymore. Price was a quick, calculating man and Ghost was sure that it wouldn’t take more than a few missteps on his part to guess exactly why this really hit Ghost so hard. With the mask and his usual stoic demeanor, he already had a guard against the Captain’s incredible gift for reading people. But Price had adapted, learning instead to read Ghost only by his eyes. 

Lying wouldn’t do. Price would see straight through him if he did. He’d have to give him the truth, just not the entire truth. “This happened on my watch. This is on me, Cap.”

It felt like only yesterday that Ghost had been sitting in a hospital bed just like yours warning you not to get hurt on his watch. Not when you were putting yourself on the line for him. It was a bit of sick irony now that you laid in this bed after taking a bullet for him - irony he wasn’t fond of at all. 

He couldn’t tell Price that you had been in Ghost’s bed only a few nights before that mission. That Ghost had fucked you slowly then, his forehead pressed to yours as he unraveled you. It was the most intimate he had ever been with you. Usually when you fucked, it was hard and fast. Feelings were there, only covered by rough desperation, but this was different. It had been something soft and vulnerable, something that was more than just sex. A wall had broken between the two of you, one that had held you both back from admitting that this was an actual relationship. 

Ghost had long stopped ignoring the fact that he had strong feelings for you, but now he was finding that those feelings had no discernible bottom. The deeper he fell for you, the deeper those feelings ran.

Maybe if Price knew all that, he would understand. But Price couldn’t know. If he did, he would be obligated to report that his Lieutenant had started a relationship with his Sergeant, a subordinate. The fallout would be disastrous. 

“You were watchin’ each other’s six,” Price asserted, his voice even and insistent. Ghost could tell that he was trying to be the voice of reason for him, a role the Captain played well. Even if Price didn’t know exactly why, he could see that what happened to you was eating Ghost alive. “You both did your jobs. Sometimes shit happens and good people get hurt.”

Ghost shook his head. “I’m her superior, my job is to keep her safe. It’s the same thing with the others - Soap and Gaz. I should’a been better than that.”

Ghost had replayed that moment in his mind a million times over. If only he would’ve been better, then maybe he would’ve noticed the gunman’s hiding spot or reacted quicker to take him down. If Ghost had just been better, you might have never gotten hurt.

Price sighed, scratching at the side of his beard as he turned his eyes to you. “Shit like this is never easy when you’re in charge, Simon. You know as well as I do that blamin’ yourself is a dangerous game to play. The only thing you can do is learn from it ‘n move on. I know you two are close but tha’s no reason to sit here torturin’ yourself.”

Ghost bit back a scornful chuckle. If only Price knew how close you truly were. If only he knew that seeing you like this made him feel like the armrest of the chair he sat in - slowly being picked apart piece by piece. 

“Styx is gonna pull through. Go get some rest,” Price said resolutely. 

“Sir-”

“Tha’s an order, Lieutenant,” Price barked. “Out.” Reluctantly, Ghost stood and walked towards the door. As he passed him by the doorway, Price called over his shoulder, “You saved her life. She’s gonna live because of you. Focus on that.”

That was easier said than done. As Ghost pushed out of the room and down the bustling hallway, dodging doctors and nurses as he went, he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he had only saved your life because you had put yourself in danger for him again. 

It was his job to protect you - both his actual job and his job as the person you were in a relationship with. But he’d failed, and it was you who paid the price. 

It should’ve been him. At least then he would have some peace knowing that you were okay. He could take the pain if only it meant that he would take the pain away from you. 

As he made his way to his temporary room on this unfamiliar base, he could hear your voice in his head chastising him, could see the way your head ticked to the side as you challenged him like you had so many times before. It was a conversation he had with you on more than one occasion. 

“Oh, really?” you questioned, sarcasm lacing your voice. Your head had laid on Ghost’s pillow, only a few months prior, facing him in his bed. “So you can stick your neck out for me, but I can’t do it for you?”

“Precisely.” Ghost’s hand had slid up and down your bare side - the side that would later take the bullet that was meant for him. Irony was a cruel thing in retrospect.

You had narrowed your eyebrows at him, dropping your teasing tone as you leveled your serious gaze. “That’s bullshit, Simon, and you know it.”

At that, he had leaned forward and pushed his mask up above his mouth before he brought his lips to your neck. He pressed the plush of his lips to the sensitive spot at the curve of your neck - the spot he knew would drive you wild. A gasp escaped you as you tilted your head to bare more of your skin to him, your body slowly arching into his touch. 

“You can always stick your neck out for me like this, love,” he whispered against your skin before lightly nipping his teeth at the flesh there. 

An obstinate huff escaped you. 

“Oh, fuck you,” you countered, but your words had held no venom, your voice light with growing lust. It was more a concession to his caress than a genuine jab. 

“You already did that, Styx,” he had teased before rolling you over top of him so that your bare thighs straddled his large hips. Excitement flashed in your eyes as you smirked down at him, your face only inches away from his own. He brought his lips to the shell of your ear as he added, “But you can do it again if you really want to…”

Ghost opened the door to his room, trying desperately to shake the memory from his mind. To shake you from his mind. 

The room was plain and minimalistic. Gray walls, a cement floor, a small closet, a small wooden table, and a rickety single bed that could barely hold his mass were all that the small room contained. For years, accommodations like this seemed like staying in a five-star hotel. Hell, in the field, he considered a clean sleeping bag on the hard ground to be impressive. Although this guest room looked like every other quarters on every base he’d ever been on, it still felt colder somehow. More empty. 

Ghost ripped off his boots before collapsing onto the green bed, the springs groaning under his weight.

What if this relationship with you was a bad idea? Ghost and you had already broken a list of rules a kilometer long, enough to have both of your jobs if anyone ever found out. He would do everything in his power to keep you away from the fallout if it ever did come out. But that wasn’t the issue for him right now. What if this relationship with you was putting you in danger? What if it was compromising the both of you?

You had both swore to each other that you wouldn’t let this affect your work. Even though you had risked your life for him once even before your relationship started, he worried that you had taken that bullet for him because of your relationship with him. Had you done what you swore you wouldn’t?

Ghost had felt the moment he broke his promise: the second you went down, the mission meant nothing anymore. All that mattered was getting you to safety. He had been compromised, let his feelings for you rule him. It was the first crack in his armor, the once-perfect soldier finally slipping. The worst part was that, given the chance, he wouldn’t change a damn thing about how he reacted. He would do it all again. 

There were reasons for the rules that prohibited his relationship with you, just as there were consequences. A dark voice in the back of his mind said that it was his fault. He let this relationship start - let the both of you fall into this knowing damn well how you both felt. He had let the two of you compromise yourselves. As a result, you now laid in a hospital bed desperately holding onto life and he was going out of his mind. 

Just fucking sleep. He just needed to fucking sleep. 

~~~

Ghost found no solace when his eyes closed. He found you there, too. He was lost in the space between sleep and consciousness, a restless and aching plane of existence. He couldn’t tell whether the images he saw were dreams or memories or some odd mixture of both. 

Bang! Bang! Bang!

His eyes snapped open, his consciousness yanked back to the dark, cold room. It was quiet for a moment as he tried to figure out what had woken him.

Someone banged on Ghost’s door again, the knocks hard and fast. 

“Ghost.” It was Soap’s voice that came from the other side of the door, though it held none of his usual energy. It was too somber. “The doctors woke Styx an hour ago.”

Ghost sat up and quickly pulled on his boots again. When Ghost opened the metal door, he found Soap poised to knock again, his fist raised before he froze. Soap relaxed then, dropping his hand to his side. 

“They’re lettin’ visitors in now. I thought you’d wanna know,” Soap told him, his voice low. He appraised Ghost with solemn eyes, his mouth drawn tight in apprehension. It was a rare look for the young soldier. 

Ghost offered him a, “Thanks, Johnny.”

He pushed past Soap, heading swiftly towards the hospital wing of the base. Soap ran to catch up, his boots smacking into the concrete hallway floor, falling in stride with Ghost. 

Soap was quiet until the pair entered the hospital section of the base, the distinctly sterile aroma making Ghost feel sick. 

“LT…” Soap drew cautiously as they traversed the packed hallway. “What happened to her?”

“What d’ya think, Johnny? She got fuckin’ shot.”

Soap rolled his eyes, dodging a nurse that dashed between them as she headed towards some unknown emergency. “Yeah, I know that. I mean, how’d it happen? You haven’t said a word about it to anyone but Price.”

Ghost simply shook his head. 

“C’mon,” Soap pushed, “what happened out there?”

Ghost stopped right outside of the closed gray door to your room. He had known Soap long enough to know that he would keep asking until he got an answer. He might as well pull the band-aid off now. “I had my back turned, a guy jumped out, she shot him, and took the bullet that was meant for me.”

Soap’s face dropped, some of the pieces of why Ghost had kept this quiet finally clicking into place. He tapped the fist of his right hand against the palm of his left hand nervously. The only thing he said was, “Oh…”

“Yeah.” Ghost gazed at your door.

“Well, at least you both made it out of there, yeah?”

Ghost grumbled, “Barely.”

“Ghost,” Soap chided, clearly catching Ghost’s irritation that you’d risked your life for him again, “you’d do the same thing for her. I know you would.”

“Tha’s got nothin’ to do with this.”

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure if it had been you who’d been shot instead of Styx, I’d be standing here having this same conversation with her. The two of you are more similar than either of you will admit.”

Ghost let out a long huff. 

“Just go easy on her,” Soap urged. “I’ll be waitin’ out here. Might call Gaz and tell him she’s awake. Then I’ll go in to see her after you.” He clapped a reassuring hand on Ghost’s shoulder as he passed by him to go sit in the waiting room. 

Ghost turned back toward your door, a knot forming in his stomach. All he had wanted for weeks was to see you awake, but now, the thought of facing you was paralyzing. 

Ignoring his apprehension, he grabbed the cold door handle and turned, slowly peering into your room. Price stood beside your bed, still clad in the same fatigues he had been in earlier, his arms crossed over his chest as he listened intently to you. 

You. You were reclined back on the bed, your hair wild from the weeks spent asleep. Your face showed the weight of what you had endured, eyes tired from the physical strain your body had been under. But you looked alive again. Some of the gray had begun to dissipate from your skin, your normal glow beginning to return. 

Hearing the door open, you and Price both turned your heads to Ghost, your conversation cut short. Whatever you were going to say died on your lips the moment you saw him. When your eyes met his, he felt like he could finally breathe again. 

You were alive.

Price cleared his throat before resting a hand on your shoulder. “We can finish this conversation later. I’m happy to have you back, kid.”

You nodded at Price, your eyes not straying away from Ghost for long. Ghost could barely tear his eyes away from you either. 

Price strode across the room, giving Ghost a pointed look before walking out of your room and closing the door behind him. 

It was quiet for a long moment as the two of you simply took each other in from opposite sides of the room. While you were asleep, there had been so much he wanted to say to you, but now every word was lost. 

You looked relieved to see him, eyes wide like a doe. 

“Ghost…” Your voice was hoarse, almost painfully so. Ghost moved forward to the side of your bed, as if somehow he could fix it, could take away some of the pain. “Price said you were here,” you croaked. “And that he had to kick you out.”

He nodded. He had been by your side for weeks, had seen you almost every day, and yet hearing you talk to him made it sink in that you were really here. You were really alive. 

“He said you were gonna rip that chair to pieces if he let you stay.” You ticked your head toward the chair Ghost had occupied for days. You chuckled a little, but the movement made your whole body tense up, your face screwing in pain. You let out a hiss, your breaths going ragged. 

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, “take it easy.”

“I’m fine,” you claimed, but your voice was only a mock impression of being okay. Pain still drew your lips into a hard line as you pressed them together. It was the same thing you had done when you got shot, almost like a reflex: I’m fine. The memory burned his insides like acid. 

“No, you’re bloody not,” he retorted. 

You huffed out a long breath as you laid your head back on the inclined bed, your eyes rolling up towards the ceiling. You knew exactly where he was going, exactly what was going through his head. You warned, “Ghost…”

“Why?” He asked, voice calm but strained. “Why did you step in front of me?”

You shook your head, your gaze dropping to meet his once again. “Why? You know damn well why.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“You think it was even a choice? If it was me, would you even have to think twice about stepping in front of me?”

Ghost huffed indignantly, looking at the ceiling. 

“That’s what I thought,” you said lightly. 

“Maybe tha’s the problem,” Ghost growled. You quirked a confused eyebrow at him before he continued. “We said we wouldn’t let this - us - affect our work. This was never supposed to be-”

He cut himself off, frustration marring every fiber of his being as he turned away from you. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you. Relief and pain battled inside of him, the combination enough to tear him apart. It was too much.

The silence hung over the two of you for a long time, the only noise in the small room being the steady, fast beep of your heart monitor. Each beep was a reminder of why this was a terrible idea. It was a reminder of what he had to lose, a reminder of what could be ripped away from him at any moment. He squeezed his eyes closed, his hand coming to grasp the back of the abandoned, torn chair to ground himself. 

He never meant to let you this close to him. He never meant to care like this. 

“Do you think you could go back?” you asked, your voice steady and hoarse. He knew you well enough to know what you sounded like when you were covering up how you truly felt, though. It was too calm, too measured. “Simon, I mean it. Could you go back to the way things were between us before? Because if so, just do it now while I’m hopped up on painkillers. Make it easy for me.”

He could end it now - tell you that it was over like he should have a long time ago. But the damage was already done. Even if things ended with you now, he would never be able to stop the way he felt for you nor stop it from influencing him. He would always care more than he was supposed to. He had already gone so long without you - been on the verge of losing you for weeks - and it was about to rip him to shreds. How could he ever choose to let you go?

With his back still turned, Ghost countered your question with his own. No matter how you answered, he wasn’t sure he could take the sting of it. “Could you?”

Your response was immediate and unwavering. “No.”

Your admission hung in the air, the revelation an indictment of his own choice. 

Then, Ghost said your name. Your real name - the name he almost never used. It dripped from his lips, the weight of it a confession of equal measure. 

He wasn’t strong enough to let go of you.

When he turned around to face you, your eyes were wide. He saw a small flash of relief cross your face, the medicine you were on surely hindering your ability to hide it. A small, weak smile slowly drew at the edge of your lips. “I like the way you say it.”

Ghost walked to the edge of your bed then, the plastic creaking under his added weight as he came to sit on the edge of it with his body twisted to face you. He dropped his bare hand to lightly run his fingers along the back of yours, being mindful of the wires and tubes attached to you. You caught his intention immediately, turning your hand to slowly slip into his grasp. It was quiet for a long time while he ran his thumb back and forth over your skin. Somehow the gesture was more intimate than any night spent tangled with you in bed.

“What do we do now?” you whispered, your head tilting at him. 

Simon met your gaze. Your eyes were heavy, the physical strain you were under taking its toll. 

“You’re gonna get some rest,” he commanded. “Get your strength back. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

You nodded before squeezing your eyes shut. “Think I’m gonna need some more meds soon. This headache is terrible.”

He leaned over you and plucked the remote with the “Call Nurse” button on it from the other side of the bed. Untangling your hand from his, he placed the remote in your grasp.

“You might wanna get out of here before that nurse with the bun comes back,” you warned, your tone light. “I think she hates you for what you did to that chair.”

He rolled his eyes. That nurse had shot him a nasty glare each time she had come to check in on you in the last few weeks. “Trust me, I noticed.”

Simon stood then, his eyes flitting to the still-closed door of your room. In one swift motion, he turned, bent over your bed, pushed his balaclava over his nose, and lightly brought his lips to yours. You froze in surprise for a moment before you melted into the kiss, your lips chapped but insistent.

He had wondered if he would ever get to feel this again. To feel you, the way you ran through his veins like a wildfire. It was too much and not enough all at the same time. It was a reminder of everything he almost lost and everything he still stood to lose.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he whispered, his lips still brushing yours with each word.

You didn’t answer. He knew you couldn’t; he wouldn’t like the answer. Instead, you simply brought your cold hand to the exposed flesh of his chin. The feeling sent a shiver down his spine, but it wasn’t because of the cold. 

It was you. Just you.

[tulip-room]

forever falls apart- k. akaashi

chapter one || Not Again

words: 2.7k

previous || masterlist || all hq works || next

"There you were again, head bleeding and eyes closed. My heart froze and I thought Not Again"

The air was sticky, it clung to her skin and not even tying her hair up stopped the uncomfortable sensation. The man, if he even counted as one, just wouldn’t stop talking. She could feel her patience growing thinner with each passing word. He was short, his hair pulled into a greasy comb over, and his voice reminded her of nails on a chalkboard. “Oh come on sweetheart, just give me your number.” His sweaty palms latch onto the counter as he leans closer. Her eyes scan the nearest register and lock with her best friend’s eyes. She watches as the woman starts closing her register with remarkable speed. 

“Plastic or paper bag?” She says as her eyes flick back down to the man, suddenly the air feels worse than it did before. She can’t decide if it’s his breath or the overwhelming feeling that he won’t be leaving her alone. 

His lips curl into a snarl. “Don’t be a bitch now, just give me your number.” She takes a sharp breath in and bites on the inside of her cheek to keep herself from saying something that will get her fired. 

“Do you guys need help over here?” Her savior asks, she doesn’t think she’s ever been this relieved to have Ave talk with her while she was working (the two seemed to forget about work when they talked which led to them getting into trouble with their supervisors). Ave put a hand on the counter next to the man and gave him a smile. 

“No, no problems here.” The man huffed and turned back to the woman at the register. “Plastic.” she muttered a quick ‘of course’ under her breath as she started bagging up his items. “Did you say something?”

“Nothing at all sir.” She bit out and flickered her gaze back to Ave a small nod of appreciation towards her. 

“Well, if you two need any help I’ll be right over at that register. Don’t hesitate to call me over,” she said more to Y/N than to the man. With a little bit of hesitation she walked back over to her register but kept an eye on the girl as she went back to work. 

“Women.” He scoffed and grabbed his items after roughly shoving his card into the machine. He made one last geer towards her before leaving the store. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and sighed when the man was finally out of her sight. There were more people in line though so she couldn’t take her break yet. 

“Will you hurry up?” The next person in line said. Oh…it was going to be one of those days. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t her fault that the line got stopped. Seems the world was against her today. 

“Of course, sorry about that ma’am.” Her teeth found comfort in the skin of her lip as she bit down to stop the words from coming out. Just a few more hours and she could go home. “Plastic or paper bag,” the practiced words she’s said every day since she started working in this forsaken shop. If she tries hard enough her mind can take itself away and replace her surroundings with something much more appealing. Fields of flowers and a man whose face she never sees. Her body moves on autopilot as people go through her line, any extra conversations not registering in her mind. 

She’s never been much of a dreamer, her brain fizzling out most creative ideas she has. She’s unsure why it’s so easy to construct a whole world and human but she can’t picture an apple in her head no matter how hard she tries. Coping mechanism, she decides. An escape from where she is currently. A gentle smile grows on her face as the shiny tiles of the ground become blades of green grass, the register she stands behind becomes a tree, the world changes and the air no longer feels sticky. 

“You can’t catch me!” A voice that sounds remarkably like her own when she was a child chimes, she can see her hands (or at least what she assumes are her hands. This is her daydream afterall) clutching onto a tree. 

“Stop running away,” a boy laughs as he stands on the opposite side of the tree. His face is obscured and his voice never sounds quite right. Like listening to a movie through the door with an empty glass over your ear. 

“I know that wherever I am you’ll find me.” 

“What if you run so far that I can’t? What if you’re taken from me?”

“I’ll never be too far from you.” She can feel the smile tugging at her lips as her hands go to rest over his chest. “I’ll be right here with you.” His breaths come out steady and for some reason she knows that he’s smiling too. 

“Break time Y/N.” She’s snapped out of her world and shakes her head. The blades of grass become tiles again and the boy’s face she’s never able to see becomes a face she recognizes. “What’s going on up there?” Ave pokes her forehead. “--you’re usually the one who has to remind me to take a break.” 

“Nothing, just more tired than usual today, I guess.” She shrugs her shoulders and starts shutting down her register. She counts the cash and rights it down as she turns the light off, the number 3 no longer being lit up. “How much longer are you trapped here?”

“An hour, Tobio is picking me up.” Her voice sounds more lovesick at the mention of her boyfriend Tobio. Y/N doesn’t know much about him other than that he’s apparently a big volleyball star. She couldn’t care less what his job is, she’s just happy that Ave has someone to take care of her when she leaves this hellhole. 

“Finally back from his trip?” She fans herself a little bit with her hand as they make their way towards the employee break room. 

“Mhm, we’re going on a date later.” The door creaks as she pushes it open, it gets stuck halfway and every time you have to push your shoulder against it to budge your way in. She makes her way over to the vending machine after holding the door open for the other woman to make her way into the room. 

“Where are you going?” The chair screeches as she sits down, her hand rests in the palm of her hand and a yawn passes her lips. “I wish I got to go home in an hour, I’m working closing tonight.” 

“Hmm…” Ave tosses her a bag of chips and sits across from her. “Nothing too fancy, just a diner down the road from the apartment. They have delicious curry. Eww, closing shift. I don’t envy you. I’ll be here for the rest of the time, unless you need me. The supervisors don’t need to know I took an extended break.” She puts a finger up to her lips and makes a shushing sound. 

“Sounds nice, I hope you two have a good date.” As she eats the chips the powder gets stuck to her fingers and makes her want to wither away. The sticky feeling makes her cringe as she eats more. “Yeah, I’ve worked closing shift this whole week. I don’t know which is worse. Opening or closing shift.”

“Opening, I despise waking up early.” The timer on her watch goes off and a groan comes out of her mouth. 

“That’s it for our time together I guess.”

“Don’t be a stranger, you have my number. Let’s go out for drinks one night or something.” Ave gives her a smile as she nods and leaves the room. She sighs as she sets her register up again, quickly counting the cash and turning the light on. The number 3 being illuminated again by the light that flashes every few minutes (they don’t feel the need to fix it despite how annoying it is).

The hour passes by quickly when she sees a familiar face walk through the doors. The man gives her a nod as he heads towards the break room, a few minutes later he walks out with Ave. His face is a bit more red than it was when he walked in and it makes her giggle. She sends a small wave at the two of them as they leave and Ave makes a phone gesture towards her. 

Three hours left and she gets to go home.

As she’s packing her register up a man rushes to the register. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t able to get off work any earlier. Do you mind staying open a few minutes longer? I’m terribly sorry.” Three bouquet man. 

“Okay,” she murmurs and puts the drawer back in the register. “No flowers today?” She makes quiet conversation as she scans his two items, a cat mug and a package of glasses wipes. She hadn’t noticed before that he wore glasses, they framed his face quite nicely now that she thought about it. She shook the thought from her head. 

“No, my coffee mug broke this morning and I was running low on wipes for my glasses,” he says quietly as he pulls his wallet from his pocket. She appreciates that he’s more prepared than most customers. 

“Mmm…plastic or paper?”

“Paper.” He taps his card gently on the counter and she places his items in the bag. He puts his card in the reader and she attempts conversation again. 

“What do you do for work?”

“I’m a poetry professor at the community college around the block.” 

“You seem too young to be a teacher, a professor at that.” That sentence makes him laugh a little bit as he grabs his bag and puts his card back in his wallet. 

“I assure you, I’m older than I look.” He gives her a small smile and she starts breaking down the register again. “How far away do you live?” She pauses and looks up at him, the cash drawer resting against her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it how it came out. It’s just– forget I said anything.” He shakes his head and leaves before she can respond. 

“Interesting…” She thinks to herself as she watches him leave the store. A few minutes later she clocks out and locks the doors behind her. She only makes it a few feet from the door before she feels like someone is following her. Her hand clutches her keys tighter, putting them between her fingers and her walking pace picks up. The person follows suit and walks faster, she can hear their breathing pick up. 

“Slow down, beautiful. I just want to talk.” Oh no, this must be some cruel joke. “Hey, I said slow down.” His hand grabs her shoulder and she freezes. She knows she should do something but she’s frozen in place, her feet stuck to the ground as his slimy hand grips the fabric of her shirt. “We didn’t get to finish our conversation from earlier.”

“I told you earlier, leave me alone,” she hisses out. 

“No need to get hostile sweetheart, I just want your number.”

“And I told you already that I’m not interested.” She pushes his hand off her shoulder. As he goes to put it back she pulls her arm back and gets a good swing on him. She feels the minute the keys graze his skin. She also feels the minute that his hands collide with her body and when her head collides with the concrete. She faintly hears a shout of what she thinks is her name as her eyes close. 

Akaashi was glad he turned back around having noticed that a card slipped from his pocket. He quickly forgets about the card as he sees the exchange. His body goes into autopilot as he rushes over, bag forgotten on the pavement as he hears a crack but he can’t be bothered to think about it. His mind races with memories. He won’t lose you again. He’s breathing heavily as he rears his hand back and it makes a sickening crack that shouldn’t feel as satisfying as it does. He shakes his hand and doesn’t think about the throbbing as he turns to look at you. Bad move. 

A fist collides with his cheek, how his teeth hit his lip. “Don’t turn your back on someone you’re fighting with.” A gruff voice says to him, he reaches up and takes his glasses off. As he pulls them from his face he quickly wipes the lenses off on his shirt and sets them in his coat pocket. 

He scoffs and rolls his eyes as he cracks his knuckles. He glances at Y/N quickly and can see her chest is still rising and falling in steady breaths. He pulls his fist back again and slams it as hard as he can into the gut of the man. He quickly wipes away the blood falling from his lip and watches as the man doubles over holding his stomach. He lifts his leg and kicks the back of his knees, the guy falls to the ground groaning in pain as he clutches his knee. 

“Is some broad worth all this trouble?” He seethes out and Akaashi wants to kick him again. 

“Y/N isn’t ‘some broad’ she’s a human. No one should be treated the way you treated her. Maybe the reason you’re not getting laid has less to do with your looks and more to do with your putrid personality.” Akaashi scoffs and watches as the guy stands up again. He scrambles away and Akaashi can’t help but roll his eyes. “Typical.” He bends down and wipes the blood on her head away. Her eyes flutter open and she lets out a dry cough. His hands cradle her face gently.

“Where did that guy go?” She looks around worriedly and notices the blood on his face. “You’re bleeding,” she motions to her own lip. 

“He’s gone. This? It’s the least of my worries…” He points to his head. “How’s your head?”

She brings a hand up to her head and hisses as her fingers touch the small cut. “It’s just a little cut. I’ll be fine.” He lets out a relieved sigh and helps her up as he dusts off his pants. He pulls his glasses out of his coat pocket and puts them back on his face. “Thank you.”

“There’s no need for that. Anyone would’ve done it.” He tries to wave her off.

“No they wouldn’t have, thank you. I still don’t know your name.” She wipes her hand off on her pants. He steadies her as she didn’t even notice she had begun to wobble. 

“Keiji, you can call me Keiji.”

“Y/N.” She holds her hand out and smiles when he takes it. 

“Can I walk you home? I don’t want anything happening to you.” She nods her head and starts leading him to her house, hands still intertwined. She’s not sure why she didn’t drop his hand, he’s not sure why he did the same. 

They carefully make their way up the steps to her apartment and she unlocks the door. “You can come in,” she slips off her shoes and sits down on her couch. After he slides off his own shoes he joins her. 

“Let’s get that cut cleaned up. Where’s your first aid kit?”

“Don’t have one.” He sighs and gets up. After a quick survey of his surroundings he finds the kitchen and wets a paper towel. He comes back and wipes the blood away. He digs a bandaid out of his wallet and puts it over the cut. “Thanks…again.” She smiles and puts a hand over the bandaid. He nods his head and stands up from the couch. “Where are you going?”

“Home, you got here safe and I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Okay…” There’s a moment of silence before he heads over to the door. Once his hand touches the knob she stops him again. “Next time I see you, I’m getting you something as a thank you. Lunch or something.” He smiles and looks over his shoulder.

“That’s not necessary.”

“I want to.”

“Okay,” the room falls into silence again as he puts his shoes on and opens the door. “See you soon Y/N.”

“See you soon Keiji.”

a/n: it came to me in a fever dream so enjoy chapter one <333 I have more things in the works hehe <3 a special thanks to @hiraethwa for rambling and freaking out with me about the fight scene this chapter <3

taglist: @akaakeis @hiraethwa @mollyrolls @wyrcan [send an ask to be added or removed from the taglist]

if you enjoyed, please consider leaving a like, comment, rb, or sending me an ask <3 I love interacting with you guys <3

[necroromantics]

🪓 — Conversations With A Killer

ticci toby short story.

- your pen will rapidly hit against the cold, metal table as you watch the clock tick on. time had you in a chokehold, squeezing your throat and forcing its way into your chest. you have done this before, countless times. sitting yourself in a small, empty room with nothing but a pen, notebook, and case file.

- early in your life you decided upon a career in forensic psychology. the mind of a criminal captured you as every interaction you had with a patient made you fall into their hands like a new victim. the difference between yourself and the ones 6ft under, is that in these small, empty rooms, you are in control.

- squirming impatiently in your chair, you opened the case file once again and began refreshing yourself on the indictment . goosebumps began tingling their way onto your arms, and you didn’t quite know if it was the cool air breezing in from the ac or the content on the pages that were the cause.

- thoughts swam like great whites hunting for blood in your mind about the kind of person who was capable of doing such things. your eyes glanced at the suspects name. and then his age.

- the repetitive sound of the plastic pen quickly pattering against the table came to a sudden halt as the door opened behind you. turning around to face the noise, you eyed the man wearing an orange jumpsuit being led in by two bulky policemen.

- you were wrong. that was no man, that was only a boy. he was small, and lanky. his poor posture brought his height down to around 5’6, his skin was pale and his hair was a shaggy mess.

- he threw himself into the chair as he sat down, immediately facing his head down to his shoes, eyeing the ground. you looked back at the officers who brought him in and gave them a nod of approval to leave you alone in the room.

- you knew better than to trust him, despite the harmless appearance. but here sitting across from you was a sickly, awkward looking boy who you knew to be only 19 years old. his gaze stayed firm to the floor, you couldn’t catch a good glimpse at his eyes.

- clearing your throat, you ignored the occasional twitch and jerk coming from the brunette who sat unspeaking across from you. you started, “uh- well. im going to need you to state your name for me, can you do that?”

- for a minute, there was no reply. the only sound was the buzzing of the fluorescent light, and the random sporadic whistle or forced cough from him. you repeated once again, “your name?”

- “toby.” his voice was quiet, but rough. a bit raspy. it was spoken so low you could barely make it out. you knew his name though, of course. you knew everything on the books about this boy. your job here today was to see what he knew.

- “okay toby, do you know why you’re here with me?”

- silence again. he didn’t speak this time, he only shook his head. the boy began biting his nails, his head still so far down his chin almost hit his chest. his head was coiled into his shoulders as he hunched over, doing his best to avoid any form of eye contact. his arm was wrapped around, hugging his core as his other one was raised up to his mouth to be chewed on.

- here sat a boy who didn’t look like he belonged in that orange jumpsuit, and across from him was you who didn’t know what to expect. its not to say you were clueless, god knows you’ve been around the block. but you’ve never dealt with someone so weird.

- amongst the twitches, awkward body language, and aggressive lack of eye contact, there was something else about toby you couldn’t quite put your finger on. there was something in the air around him that felt unnatural, and sickening, like the rot that surrounds a corpse in the morgue. you felt as though you were a mortician confronting a dead body.

- “my report is telling me you were arrested due to your involvement with a weapons trafficking bust. you look fairly young to be involved in that kind of business” eyeing the boy in front of you, you continued, “looking deeper into you, though. we found some interesting things.”

- attempts to illicit any sort of response from the seemingly unstable boy were proven to be futile. but your perseverance knew no bounds, and so you pushed further.

- “do you remember a fire that happened in 2011, in denver, colorado? you mustve been 17 at the time.” your hands folded softly over the beige file that held many documents.

- with one quick motion, his whole body jerked and he slammed his hand onto the table. the sudden sound nearly made you jump, and you would’ve been out of your seat if you weren’t as strong-hearted as you were. but resilient you stayed, just as you always have.

- “i dont know nothing about any fire” he spoke a bit louder this time, and raised his head very slightly, showing his eyes but not quite fixing his posture. though his head remained down, his eyes were now up as he stared at you through his thick eyebrows.

- tobys eyes were dark. his face was young and boyish, but you could see it in his eyes that he has witnessed things no 19 year old boy should have. those eyes were ripe with age beyond him. it felt as though you were looking at a veteran returning home from war, near shellshocked.

- as he continued to eat at his one hand, his other drummed rapidly on the tabletop. dirt was stuck under his chewed up nails, and they were stained with violence. you wondered to yourself for a minute what kinds of things those hands have done, what horrors they have committed.

- sliding the file in front of you, your hand rested on top of it. “do you know whats in here?”

- “a bunch of horseshit.” he muttered, glancing away as he cussed, not taking his hand away from his mouth.

- “this is a documentation of what happened the night of that fire. and information on you as well. the police out there have their own story. now i want to hear yours.”

- toby only shook his head quickly in reply, as to brush you off like dirt on his shoulder. “there is no story, there’s nothing.”

- “amuse me a little bit here toby.”

- his brooding gaze hit the floor once again as his arms wrapped around himself as if he were giving himself a hug. closing him off from the world, and you. this proved to be more difficult than you initially expected. usually younger criminals are talkers, they don’t think things through before they start letting their ego run their mouth.

- “do.. do you not know how to fucking listen? i said there is no.. no story. none.” his words were slightly slurred caused by the deteriorating gash on his left cheek. the tone began to grow harsh, but quiet, like a spark building into a flame.

- with only the lights buzzing and the drilling of the ac spewing out cold air to break the tension that slowly rose between you two, you flipped open the folder and pulled out a photograph.

- “this here is a man named frank rogers, he was an unfortunate victim to the house fire. his son was initially believed to be another potential victim of the fire that spread across the neighborhood and forest as well. but no body was ever found.”

- slowly, he raised his head up. when the boy eyed the photograph, for a split second you swore you saw a hint of amusement form in the cracks of his mouth and eyes. regardless, he remained silent. only repeatedly shaking his head at your questions in desperate attempt brush you off.

- a small tickle grew in your throat as so did your frustration, and desperation. determination to get answers bubbled up inside of you like a sisyphus boulder being pushed eternally up hill. or icarus, making his way towards the sun. despite the chilly breeze flowing in the room, you felt yourself nearly breaking a feverous sweat.

- pulling at your shirt collar, you pulled out a written document and held it in your hands. “autopsy of franks body, as far as they could recover from the fire, showed proof of foul play”. you were lying through your teeth, there was no evidence here. you knew his body was burnt to a crisp, beyond what any autopsy could prove. but you did what you must to confirm the occurrences of that night. this was your job.

- “i guess that’s unfortunate for him then. shouldve learned to play nice” was the only reply toby gave you.

- suddenly a harsh cough shot through your lungs as you felt yourself become a bit dizzy. putting a finger up, you signalled for the younger to excuse you for a moment. it took a minute to collect yourself before you continued again. a quick smirk twisted itself onto the boys face as he kept his head down, trying to avoid your gaze.

- next, you pulled out a collection of old medical records. these were reports of hospital visits from toby’s early childhood, he was remarked as a very accident prone boy. many of the reports showed his body littered with bruises, contusions, and occasional sprains. they were described as accident-caused injuries at the hands of his CIPA disorder which prevented him from feeling pain.

- you knew better than anyone what those bruises were from, and you knew better than anyone it wasn’t any accident.

- “when your father hit you, did he-“ your sentence was cut off quickly.

- “you dont know anything about my father. you dont know shit about what he did”

- the conversation cut out for a moment like a box tv turning off, the immediate change of tone in his voice caught you off guard. he went from a stuttering, quiet boy to a firm, violent tone. it was if he was baring his teeth and growling like a feral hound.

- “tell me then. tell me about your father.” and this is where you win. this is where you get toby rogers to talk.

- “my old man was a mean fucker. he would always hurt my mom, and my sister.” now the hostility has slipped away, replaced with a tragic demeanour where he refused to look you in the eye. sorrow sunk deep into his face, his eyes, now visible once again, looked much more sad then they had just moments before.

- the sudden, volatile changes made you feel queasy, or maybe it was something that you ate. the aura of the boy was suffocating, it squeezed your lungs and scratched at them, forcing out another cough from you.

- through your building unease, you spoke still. “and you? was he the cause of all these injuries?”

- “oh, yeah. i guess. i guess thats why i killed him.”

- your heart dropped into your stomach so quickly it was comparable to a fair ride. did you just get a confession? your teeth bit the inside of your cheek to restrain a victorious smile. maybe this was going to be easier than you thought.

- “can you repeat that for me?”

- “i said,” toby crossed his arms atop the table and leaned in, looking you straight in the eye, “thats why i killed that piece of shit.”

- breath escaped you, and the world around you turned to static. this made your job significantly better, when the killer freely admits to the crime. but you wanted more, you wanted to grab a shovel and dig up the grave of the past. and so you threw yourself into the rabbit hole, and let the static consume anything that wasn’t this boy in this moment.

- “and how did you kill him?”

- “knife. good ol’ trusty kitchen knife.” he was talking so casually, as if it was an everyday event for him. office chatter at best.

- “what did you gain out of this? hurting him makes you just as bad, no?”

- no word from toby, there was an image of a blaring red alarm in your head. a line you shouldn’t cross, but you do, because you need more, and more, and more.

- his stare trickled down your face as he began to eye your nose, the boys expression scrunched into one of disgusted amusement, near sadistic. “your nose is bleeding”.

- tapping onto your upper lip, you felt a wet sensation as blood coated your finger. you were too focused on the confession, and there was that static in your head that drowned out the rest of the world. all that surrounded you was this boy, toby rogers.

- quickly, you get up from your seat and excuse yourself outside. the ambience of the exterior hallway in the station was in stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere of the questioning room. despite the time of day, the hallway was empty and quiet. it seemed much longer than you remembered.

- the hallway was quiet. the white tiled floors complimented the beige painted walls, and occasional grey metal door. the place that should’ve been filled with beeps, chatter, and police radio were now replaced with the soft buzzing of the overhead fluorescent lights that seemed too bright. your head pounded, you felt sick and dizzy, like you were losing your mind in this place.

- making your way down in attempt to find a bathroom, you felt your heart beat in your chest, building its way up to your throat. you could start to taste the metallic blood on your lips as it slipped down from your nose. uneasiness choked another rough cough out of you as you stopped in your tracks. you realized you have been walking for a few too many minutes now. the hallway was never this long.

- you must’ve missed an exit, you turned around and tried to make your way back the same way you came. when you turned heel, your body began to weaken and you collapsed to the floor, a wave of disease plagued over you as it consumed your mind and body. you fell weak onto the floor, and when your body collided with the tile, your hands met dirt and grass.

- your head faced down as you violently coughed, a sharp pain filled your head and there was a violently loud ringing in your ears. blood splattered from your mouth as you dry-heaved in attempt to catch your escaping breath. collecting yourself was a cat and mouse chase.

- the world around you now was dark, and cold. fresh air of the outdoors whipped your lungs as your body began to shake. you look up through tears of pain in your eyes as you remain on your hands and knees and look up at the tall, slender trees that now surround you. this wasn’t the hallway you collapsed in. you don’t know how you got outside.

- you were swallowed whole by sickness and disorientation, you barely noticed the figure approaching.

- a man wearing orange goggles and a barred-smile grey mask approached you. you may have not been able to see his face, but you noticed the air that surrounded him immediately. you knew who this boy was.

- now wearing a sweater and jeans instead of the orange jumpsuit, he crouched down in front of you. hatchets sat loyal on the holster connected to his belt, you saw mud and what looked like to be blood coating his shoes.

- his rough hands grabbed a handful of your hair as he violently jerked your head up to meet his gaze. he silently tilted his head as to look at you in a different light.

- “you.. you wanna know something funny?”

- the boys low, taunting voice was familiar, you felt yourself taken over by adrenaline. you didn’t know if you should try to run, or obey. you stayed silent.

- jerking his arm, he slammed your head aggressively into the ground beneath you, and by your hair he lifted your head up again. yelps, whimpers and begging was all that escaped your bloody, trembling lips as your hands now wrapped around his arm in attempts to get him off of you.

- “i said, you wanna know something real fucking funny?” his voice was muffled by the mask, but boomed loudly almost to the point it echoed. you could hear the brutality leak off of his tongue. glancing at the woods that surrounded you two, you tried to think of an escape plan

- “what..?” your once confident voice was beat to only a quiet, desperate whimper. in these woods, he was in control.

- “you were wrong. im not as bad as my father…”

- as he spoke these words in a mumble, he gripped your hair tighter and got up, dragging you to your knees and forcing your head back to reveal your neck. he stood tall on his feet and looked down at you as if you were only scum under his shoe.

- you squirmed and screamed, you didn’t want to die in this place, not today. you couldve swore you saw something behind him, hidden in the trees. you couldnt make out its face. the ringing in your ears got worse.

- with a quick motion, he removed one of his hatchets from his belt and held it back, ready to swing at your exposed neck.

- “oh, im far worse.”

[yorshie]

Hii! Here is my prompt: 10 and 30, fluff and with Ralph or Leo

Hello! Didn't recognize the name for a minute, but I'm glad you asked for a request! (I'm still working on the other one sorry I know it's been a bit) I picked Raph for this one!

"Are you sure this is ok, Red?" You asked, leaning to address the large turtle over your shoulder as you gathered sponges and a luffa from the picnic table outside the cabin door. The light breeze today kept the day from being hot, but you were still glad you had packed shorts and a t-shirt instead of jeans.

Raph didn't have to be facing you for you to recognize he was rolling his eyes skywards. "Told ya I don't mind twice now, shorty. If I have to tell you one more time, I might just go crazy!"

You scrunched your mouth at him where he couldn't see, fumbling for a bottle of body wash before taking the few steps over to join him, almost tripping on the water hose still tucked over the lip of the plastic kiddie pool he was currently sitting in.

“Look,” he added when you stepped close, “I asked, didn’t I?”

"Yeah, you did ask, but.... well-" You dumped the bottles and sponges into the water between his swimsuit covered crossed legs, and he snorted, picked up the bottle with the scent he wanted and a sponge in the other.

"Listen, it's no biggie, usually one of the other's would help, but they've fucked off to who knows where." He paused, looking you over where you were biting your nail in nerves. "You just gotta get the middle, I can reach the edges."

"No, No," you grabbed the sponge from his hand before he could move away, taking two steps to plant yourself at his back. "I just... I really don't want to do the wrong thing here, Red."

He laughed at that, the sound deep in his chest. "What the hell do you think you're gonna be able to do wrong with a sponge, sweetheart?"

You blushed, pushed against his shell in retaliation, but the shove barely moved him. "I know you can feel touches through it, asshole! And! And! You've been shot, I can see the nicks and...." you trailed off, taking a moment to look over his shell, "you've got a lot of cracks, Raph."

He twisted, as much as he could while still sitting, and leveled you with a softer look. "It's fine, there's nothing you could do to hurt me."

You harrumphed at him, at the softness, and slapped him across the shell with the sponge. He had the audacity to laugh through the ensuing bubbles.

When the others came back from ‘who knows where’ they found their hot headed brother buried under a mountain of bubbles, incensed that someone (Mikey) had added dish soap to the bottle he’d handed you, while you danced around him with the hose trying in vain to wash them away.

[miel-ji]

{8:16 pm}: Lee Minho

A/N: crack? (or my attempt lmao), from this request, pranks w/ bf!Minho

Minho loved to tease you, in fact, it was one of his love languages, and he loved that you played along with his antics. You even initiated it half of the time, and your playful nature was one of the reasons he had fallen so deeply. However, sometimes he got so caught up in messing with you that he momentarily forgot about your eventual retaliation. He knew that some would consider it childish, but he couldn’t deny how attractive you were when you’d get riled up. 

You had been complaining about how hungry you were, but you didn’t know what you wanted to make or if you wanted to order something. After so long of listening to you debate with yourself, your master chef of a boyfriend had sweetly offered to make you a sandwich. You waited in anticipation as you heard him cooking only to be handed a cabbage, egg, and ketchup sandwich. “Darling, respectfully… what is this?” you asked him, eyeing the plate. 

“What do you mean, pretty? I made a sandwich.” He said innocently, but he knew what he was doing from his wide grin. “Fit for a bunny,” he playfully booped you on the nose to which you swatted his hand away. 

“I’m not a bunny. You’re a bunny… ” you grumbled as you took the sandwich from him, examining it closely, “there’s still plastic on the cheese.” 

He quirked an eyebrow at you with a playful smirk, “I thought you were hungry.” When you only pouted at him, he took the plate from you before calmly unwrapping the cheese, reassembling the sandwich, and taking a big bite out of it. “What are you going to do about it?” You were rendered speechless at the time, opting to just scowl at him, but in his fits of laughter before pecking your lips and walking out the door, he missed the mischievous glint in your eye as the gears in your head started turning. 

You had the perfect window to get him back by the time he would get home from practice, so you immediately got to work. Later in the evening, you took a peaceful nap, waiting for his return. 

He came in the door with his hair slightly damp with sweat and shirt still sticking to him from practicing hard that evening. He slipped off his shoes and took notice of the quiet apartment, “Love?“ He called out to you, but when he approached the couch, he saw you buried under a fluffy blanket softly asleep. A soft smile played on his lips as he carefully sat on the edge of the couch beside you. 

He took a moment to admire the way your eyelashes kissed your cheeks and soft tufts of breath left your slightly parted lips. He reached down to gently stroke your hair and you stirred slightly in your sleep, causing the blanket to slip off your shoulder. Minho pulled away and stood up to pull the covers back over you when he noticed you were clutching something yellow to your chest. He pulled the covers back to find a bbokari in place of your leebit, and he scowled at the rogue skzoo. 

He decided that he would just replace it with the bunny, trying to cautiously slip the plush from your arms when you blinked awake, “Min?” 

“Love, where is lee bit?” He asked you softly, brushing his fingers through your hair. “Why are you cuddling this random bird? You know, they’re much better to eat than to nap with.” He narrowed his eyes at the plush. 

You make a show of getting comfortable with bbokari again, settling back down for your nap before taking a peek at him, “you know rabbit stew is a thing right?” 

“We do not talk about that in this household! Leebit could hear you-” He paused and raised a skeptical brow at you before he asked you slowly, “Where is he?” 

“Check the freezer,” you replied nonchalantly, checking your nails as you acted disinterested. 

He gave you a confused look before slowly getting up and making his way to the kitchen. You grinned to yourself as you got up to follow him, trying to contain your giggles. He opened the freezer door, and his boba eyes went wide at what he saw. His mouth formed an ‘o’ as little laughs of disbelief shook him, and he carefully reached inside. 

“Y/n? What did you do?” He held a block of ice in his hands that had the tips of a pair of familiar bunny ears sticking out the top, turning it to look at all sides like he wasn’t processing what he was seeing. “Leebit? Can you hear me?” He called out to the plush in faux panic, the corners of his mouth curving up in a bemused grin. 

“Sometimes mischievous little bunnies need to chill out,” you explained to him with a shrug before walking up to him and placing a kiss on his cheek. “Just thought I’d remind you.” At your words, Minho tilted his head, and from the flicker in his eyes, you knew that your upper hand was slipping. He chuckled dryly before turning to place the ice in the sink. When he faced you again, he was relaxingly leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. “Is that so bunny?”

[gingerjolover]

due to recent events a vampire themed halloween fic may be necessary .

vampy!jo coming up for the baby!

For the bit(e)! Jo Maskin x fem!reader

Jo insisted they couldn't spend another minute in the sailor's outfit. Despite your reassurance and saying "but you look so cute!" and even adding a tally under the "you rule" section on the whiteboard, Jo was determined to find another costume.

"The party is at 9 tonight," you say incredulously, looking at the digital clock above the stove, reading 1:30 p.m. "Babygirl, it's Halloween weekend in LA, I'm sure I can find something," Jo says cockily, grabbing their keys, smacking a wet kiss on your cheek and a pinch on your ass before walking out the door.

It's quite a few hours since Jo left, you hear the excited barks of your dog, their nails tapping on the tile floor as Jo calls into the house. "Where are you doll?"

"In the kitchen? Why?" you ask, putting the dish you were washing down in the sink.

"Whatever you're doing, close your eyes...safely," Jo calls out, sounding unsure.

You can't help but giggle at your partner's antics. "Okay, they're closed."

You hear shuffling, bags crinkling, and a few thuds as they hit the kitchen table. Without warning, Jo comes up behind you, warm hands sliding across your lower abdomen, settling on your hips before kissing your neck softly, pressing a slow peck to your jaw. "Keep them closed, okay?" Jo asks, kissing your ear quickly.

"Mhm," you nod, leaning back into Jo. Jo pulls away slightly, head leaving your shoulder before it returns a second later. Josette nuzzles their nose up the side of your neck, pecking your shoulder quickly before you feel a chomp, thick plastic pinching your skin.

"Ow! Josie, what the fuck was tha-" you exclaim, turning around to see your partner with fake vampire teeth in their mouth. Jo watches your face go from slightly hurt to shocked to confused, then to unimpressed.

"A vampire? Seriously?" you say, laughing slightly as you lean back against the sink and cross your arms.

Jo furrows their eyebrows, ripping the teeth from the mouth, spit going with it. "Ew," you laugh, wiping their mouth with your thumb.

"What's wrong with vampires?" they ask, eyes wide. You hold in a laugh, Jo looking legitimately offended.

"There's nothign wrong with...don't give me that look," you say squeezing the meat of Jo's cheek. "You were just talking some big game before you left, I thought you'd be something more...unique," you shrug, watching Jo's eyes widen more, pushing your hand away.

"How dare you? I'll have you know I have a unique spin on this," Jo says, stepping closer to you.

"Oh yeah? What is that?"

"I am the vampire, and you... are my vampire bride," Jo says excitedly, running to the bags and grabbing the veil, ripping it out of the packaging, and fixing it on your hair. They take a good look at you before stepping towards you, one arm snaking around your waist, pulling you into them. Your bodies are flush as they hold you, your lower back still against the sink.

"Vampire bride?" you ask, unimpressed. You watch Jo's eyes widen again, their smile growing before they kiss your cheek, face hiding in your neck.

"What's so special about a vampire bri-?" you start to speak, cut off by Jo's mouth, lightly sucking your neck. "What was that baby?" Jo asks. You can feel them smirking against your skin as they kiss and lick the expanse of your neck, one bicep around your waist, their other hand on your cheek, holding your head to give them access to your neck.

"I was um...just saying...there's nothing... special," you are cut off by your own moan, Jo sucking a hickey into your skin. Their teeth sink in, tongue lapping at the small bite mark, your skin already darkening.

"Babe you can't just do that, we are going out tonight," you whine, hand in Jo's hair, trying to pull them out of the crook between your neck and shoulder.

"This is part of the costume, babe, gotta mark you up," Jo moans against you, biting your shoulder before sucking another hickey into your skin.

"What?"

"Oh come on, the vampire is marking their vampire bride, it makes perfect sense!" Jo murmurs, kissing your lips softly, eyes sultry and mischievous.

"You just wanted an excuse to give me hickeys; what are you, 15?"

"I'm sick of putting them where no one can see them," Jo winks, hands sliding down to your ass, one hand gripping a thigh and hiking it up onto their hip. "C'mon, please indulge me... do it for the bit! How funny would it be? I'm wearing these fake ass teeth, but your neck is all bruised..." Jo all but whines softly, kissing up and down your jaw. Jo looks at the clock on the stove, "It's 4:30 now...think of all the accessories I could put on your neck before we need to get dressed if we go to bed right now," they murmur, rubbing you through your jeans.

"I have work on Monday!" you remind Jo, pushing hair out of their eyes.

"I'll be careful," Jo promises with a murmur, eyes shining as they flicker back and forth between yours and your lips.

"Fine," you mutter, rolling your eyes and fighting back a smile.

"Okay take your shirt off," Jo says excitedly, eyes widening again as their fingers reach for the hem. "I was thinking you could wear your white bodysuit... your chest needs some accessories too..."

[emeline2020]

Tolerate It - D.DIXON

DESC: You and Daryl have been married for a while. But ever since you moved to the Commonwealth and Daryl started working as a soldier, things got rocky.

CONTAINS: angst, so much angst i’m sorry

SEASON 11

You didn’t know how else to describe how you were feeling other than stupid. An idiot. Desperate worked too.

You sat at the dinner table, picking at your now cold meal. Four other plates resided on the table, two being Judith and RJ’s. Those two plates were scraped clean, stains ands crumbs left on the plastic surface. But the third plate that wasn’t yours was perfectly clean. Not a single spec of a meal.

You stared at it for a minute. Usually he would be home by now. Ever since he started working and leaving early in the morning, he never made it home on time for dinner.

You took a bite of your meal, cringing at the coldness on your tongue. The apartment door creaked open, a sweaty Daryl holding his crossbow and entering.

“Hey. Get off late again?” You ask. He glances at you, his expression almost sour or even disappointed by the fact you were still up. Waiting for him.

“Sure.” He mumbled, setting down his crossbow on the counter and pulling open the janky fridge, taking a swig of beer from a glass bottle.

“Dinner’s here.. if you’re hungry.” You murmured in response to his cold tone.

He took another sip, “‘M not. Ate with my coworkers after our shift.”

“Oh.”

It was silent for a few minutes. You stared away from him and at his plate you had placed out. Things felt awkward.

“RJ should be asleep. But Jude usually waits for you to say goodnight, so..” You said, before he quickly cut you off at the opportunity of abandoning your presence.

“I’ll go say goodnight.” He said quickly, putting the beer back in the fridge and making his way over to the stairs. His boots stomped heavily all the way up the wooden platforms, and you could hear him greet Judith as he entered her room in an excited tone.

“Hey, kiddo. ‘Sup?” He said, shutting her bedroom door behind him. He sounded so happy. The opposite from how he had sounded when he was speaking to you.

You bit on your thumb nail, anxious and confused. Things were so different between the two of you.

As you gathered the dishes and cleaned up the leftovers on the table, you pondered why Daryl Dixon seemed to no longer love you.

You kept the house cleaned. You prepared meals for the entire family. You helped the kids with their homework. What were you doing wrong?

He used to come home from work and make his way to you before doing anything else. He would hug you and kiss you with his crossbow still on his back or shoulder.

Now, you couldn’t even remember the last time he kissed you. Maybe a few weeks ago? Probably closer to a month.

You cleaned all the dishes in the sink, putting them away in their respective drawers before heading to the bedroom.

The bedroom the two of you shared. The bed he often would abandon sleeping in all together.

You missed him. And you worried there was nothing you could do to fix what had become of you and Daryl Dixon.