#and i can handle it. but the number of times i want to burst into tears every day im in the office is….. not great and i probably should be

[pepprs]

today is the last day of one of the hardest and heaviest years of my life (i.e. my first year in this job) and also the last day of me being contractual / contingent (i.e. not a permanent employee which has been fine but also fucked me up just in the wording of it). i don’t think the horrors will relent just yet but i hope so sincerely that they ease soon and that this next year will be kinder and less turbulent and that i will be stronger for what i experienced this year

[the-kipsabian]

i also did want to start work today with talking to one of the most difficult, anxiety inducing, entitled customers we’ve ever had!! :)

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Bolinus brandaris [S. R]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

and by public demand, part. 2

summary: Reid loves the gift you just gave him and the whole team can notice.

"Everyone ready to go back?" Gideon asked, taking a quick look at the jet to make sure all of you were there. You had an extortion case quite far from home, Miami to be exact, and you had a long flight back to Quantico, so the last thing he wanted was to forget someone.

Miami was a beautiful place that you would have liked to visit in other circumstances, that had nothing to do with crimes at all, since you had always felt a certain weakness for the warm climate, the sticky breeze, and the sound of the waves that were on the beach.

You had only had the chance to go to a mall to buy a new outfit, because yours had been completely ruined, while Morgan took advantage of the wait to buy an ice cream popsicle. It hadn't been a dream ride, but it was something at least.

“I feel like I could sleep for 90 hours straight,” you sighed, closing your eyes and falling into Spencer's side as usual. You two were the youngest, he was younger than you of course, so it was easier to connect with him than the other members of the team. You seemed to have similar interests and he was strangely comfortable with you.

“You would actually need to wake up periodically to expel fluids or you would risk bursting your bladder or even your bowels, because even though your digestive system shuts down when you sleep it only does so for a certain number of hours. Maybe you could sleep for 14 or 17 hours, which is what a baby sleeps, but 90 seems excessive to me even if you do not consume drinks or food before doing so”

"It's an expression, Reid" you laughed, but without the intention of making him feel bad for having answered you that way. Sometimes it was necessary to explain to him that you weren't being serious, as obvious as this seemed.

"You can sleep through the whole trip" he argued and although you still had your eyes closed you assumed that he had shrugged "I'll wake you up if you start snoring"

"I don't snore!" you defended yourself, playfully smacking him on the arm and hearing him laugh. Somehow watching him led you to remember a chain of events ending in the package you had carefully stowed in your bag and you almost jumped out of your seat the next second: "Wait, I just remembered something" you reported and went to the baggage area to rummage through your suitcase, taking just a few minutes to be back in your seat “I bought you this”

"Me?" he asked in disbelief. The others were on their own business enough to notice your conversation, making the moment a bit more private.

“I looked at it and just thought of you. Although I don't know if you're going to like it” you said shyly, handing him something wrapped in a paper bag with a store sticker on it. You had found the gift when you went shopping for your clean outfit and a part of you had been anxious all day to be able to give it to him to watch his reaction.

Reid looked at it curiously and handled it carefully, as if he were afraid it would fall apart in his fingers, until he managed to open it and took a piece of cloth from it.

"A scarf?"

“I saw you in one the other day and I thought you might like them. You know, you always wear your vests under your coats and your ties and you're always overdressed, but in a cute way” you laughed, while you pointed your hands at your body pretending to touch the pieces of his outfit "But it's okay if you don't want to wear it"

"No! I mean yes. I want to use it” he reassured you. Spencer held it out to look at it more carefully: it was purple, a stripe in the middle of patterned colored rhombuses intertwined with some embroidery of branches with leaves in black. "Did you know that the color purple is related to royalty because of how difficult it was to obtain the pigment before the Christian era? It is obvious that artificial dyes didn’t exist at that time, so everything they dyed the fabrics with had to be obtained from nature and that particular tone was quite difficult to obtain because it came from Bolinus brandaris, an extremely rare species of sea snail. To obtain 1 gram of this substance it is necessary to have 10,000 snails. And that gram was barely enough to dye a small piece. Its value and the difficulty in mass-producing it is due to the fact that the substance obtained had to be left to dry in the sun for a very precise time to be used later. Half a kilo of wool dyed in that color cost what would now be equivalent to around 300,000 euros,” he said, still holding the scarf as he rambled on. "It is also related to liturgical attire, it symbolizes power, wisdom, and is the perfect combination between the energy of red and the calm of blue”

“Oh yeah, I… I knew all that before I bought it, I didn't choose it just because I think purple brings out your eyes” you blatantly lied, making your friend laugh tenderly.

“What I meant to say is that I like it” he added, a little embarrassed by the smile and attention with which you had been observing him. You always did that when he wandered off, leaving him helpless and not knowing how to react.

"You said it has to do with wisdom, right?" you exclaimed and he nodded gently "Do you think there's some weird psychological reason why my brain knew that and linked it to you or was it just a coincidence?"

"Well, it's hard to explain..." he began to say, turning a little in his seat to be closer to you and begin a long explanation about the connections that our brain creates with things and people.

You were completely exhausted but you didn't have the heart to stop him from saying anything he had to say and you listened intently as much as your body would allow, until eventually you were lulled to sleep by the sound of Spencer's soft voice. When he stopped hearing your hums he realized that you had already fallen asleep and he moved your body carefully until you were completely reclining on the chair, so that when you woke up the physical pain of sleeping on the plane would be less. He, for his part, stayed in the seat next to you sheltered your rest, and at some point ended up asleep too.

The day after she came back from Miami, Spencer was already wearing the scarf you gave him. He had matched it with a brown coat, a vest in a darker shade of purple than the scarf, and a white shirt that together made him look perfect. Also, his well-brushed straight hair fell to the side and his tanned skin looked particularly clean.

You didn’t need to tell him anything because the smile you gave him when you looked him up and down was reason enough for him to be flattered and also proud to receive your approval. All day you watched him, a bit for the garment and a bit for the very pleasure of admiring him, and you noticed that he frequently checked that everything about him looked good, as if he was trying to impress you. Every time he spoke he avoided looking at you, only at you, but you couldn't take your eyes off him.

The day after that he used it too and the next day and the next, to the point where it was strange to see him go anywhere without it, as if it had become a part of him. After a week, while they waited in the boardroom, Elle finally had the courage to face the situation and ask Spencer why the particular choice for something for everyday use.

"It's that his girlfriend gave it to him" answered Morgan, before the brunette could say anything.

"What? No! Y/N is not my girlfriend” he said, completely embarrassed and making sure with his eyes that you weren't around to hear that.

"Oh, now I understand" JJ joined the conversation.

"You understand what?"

“You are always taking care that it doesn’t get dirty or stained”

"Yes, I don't like my clothes to get ruined"

"But more so if it's something his girlfriend gave him" insisted Morgan and in a fit that no one expected Spencer took a ball of paper and threw it at his face. That just got a collective laugh.

"I just like it. That's all”

"We all know you like her, Reid," added Hotch, who had kept quiet thus far and didn't even look up from the files. He flushed red to the ears as the rest of the team shared another laugh, and just seconds later you and Gideon walked through the door.

"Good morning"

"Good morning" answered the others, like school children before the arrival of a teacher. There was one seat left next to Morgan that Gideon took and that forced you into the only remaining chair between Elle and Spencer.

“Did I miss something interesting?” you murmured, leaning into him and smiling close to his face.

"No" he replied kindly, feeling your gaze drop from his eyes.

"Your scarf," you said, reaching out your hands to move it a little around his neck "It was out of place"

Everyone else, except for Gideon, shared knowing glances and stifled giggles as they watched the nervous way he thanked you. It didn't help too much that for the entire meeting you were completely distracted looking at your partner next to you, making the whole team wonder when the two of you were finally going to end up kissing.

[gojonanami]

"MIGHT HURT" - SUGURU GETO

✴︎ summary: suguru's popularity is truly a curse, especially when he gets hit on right in front of you. luckily, you both know how to handle those situations. aka i heard this scene from 'no hard feelings' and i had to write a fic about it. ✴︎ contents:: jealousy, crack, fluff, humor, made-up girl from suguru's middle school before he came to jjt, naoya mention ✴ wc: 788

With the two princes of Jujutsu High, it was unfortunate that you had to date the more popular one. 

And no, it wasn’t Satoru. 

Suguru Geto is the more popular one — probably because of his manners, compared to Satoru’s…bluntness. It didn’t hurt that he was polite, a prodigy, and a perfect prince. And how could you complain? 

Except at moments like this you did. 

It was supposed to be a simple mission. And it was. Two grade A curses the two of you exorcise with ease, and now you had one more night to spend at the hotel Jujutsu High had kindly booked — some of the only real alone time two of you rarely had — without Satoru bursting into either one of your dorms (whether the door was locked or not). 

“Finally a date, a real date,” you sigh, walking hand in hand with him, “should we commemorate with a picture?” 

He smiles, rolling his eyes, “I left my phone at the hotel — I didn’t want any interruptions,” and you grin, as he leans in, breath warming your lips like an invitation, “just you and me, Princess,” 

“I like the sound of that,” you murmur — how was it he still could make your heart skip a beat like that? — utterly unfair. And your lips nearly brush when a voice interrupts you. 

“Geto?” Your heads snap over, as the two of you untangle yourselves. A girl in an unfamiliar high school uniform walks over, “it’s you, how are you?” Her lips are curled too widely, her eyes too eager, and her body language completely ignoring your presence. 

Oh, what the f- 

“Fumi?” He asks, lips in that same smile he gave everyone, the painted polite grin he plastered on, “it’s been a long time,” 

“It has. I heard you are going to a school in Tokyo now,” she smiles, “I stay in Tokyo with my family sometimes, we should meet up. I can you give my number,” 

Suguru opens his mouth to reply, but you cut in, a tight lipped smile on your face, “He doesn’t have his phone, so…” you reply, and she acknowledges your existence for a moment, gaze finally sliding to you. 

“Oh, then maybe I can give you my number and you can send it to him,” she offers, and you tilt your head. 

“No need,” and you can see Suguru glance between the two of you, his hands in his pocket. 

“Can’t hurt,” she flutters her eyelashes at Suguru, pouting, and you wonder if she would count as another curse you could exorcise. Although surely a fly head was more trouble than she would be. 

“Might hurt,” and Suguru’s arm snakes around your waist, physically reigning you in. 

“Me and my girlfriend actually have to get back to school, but it was nice to see you again, Fumi,” and he’s scrawling a number down, “here’s my number,” he waves, before ushering you off. She tries to stop you two, to no avail, as Suguru uses a small curse to draw her attention away for a moment before recalling it. 

“Was that necessary?” 

“Well I think using a cursed spirit was preferable to you beating her with your cursed tool, wouldn’t you agree?” he scoffs, but he can’t keep his lips from curling into a smile, “I didn’t really give her my number,” 

“I know,” you were irritated - not stupid. You knew Suguru wouldn’t cheat on you, but you hear a noise escape his throat — and you know he’s laughing. 

And it looks could kill, he would have been as dead as those curses from earlier, “you find this funny, don’t you?” 

“You getting jealous of some girl I barely knew from middle school? Yes, I do,” he snorts, mirth in his tone, “but I could go back and give her my real number if you want,” 

“Do that, and you won’t have to worry Fumi getting hurt, because she won’t be the one getting their ass kicked,” and he laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, before his lips find yours — and you can feel him smile against your lips, “it’s really annoying that all these people flirt with you, but I guess it’s only because my boyfriend’s hot,” 

“Got a catch didn’t you?” he hums, pressing another kiss to your lips. 

“Lucky me,” you mumble, sarcasm heavy on your tongue, and he’s kissing you more insistently, showering your face with kisses until you smile, pushing him off, giggling, “ok, ok! I’m lucky,” you sigh, burying your face in the crook of his neck again as the two of you walk, “whose number did you give her anyway? Satoru?” 

“No, Naoya,” and you snort, pressing a kiss to your devious boyfriend’s cheek. 

“Poor girl.” 

✴︎ a/n: i watched no hard feelings last night and i couldn't get this idea out of my head. i was gonna write it with gojo, but i remembered how gege said geto was more popular so :)

[sunshinesteviee]

quality time - s.h.

summary: steve has some quality time with his newborn wc: 1.1k warnings: descriptions of steve's scars, dad!steve & mom!reader a/n: so i'm pretty sure this was originally a request from an anon literally forever ago, but i cannot for the life of me find the ask, i'm so so sorry! it's been a while since i've posted, so just a lil something for y'all. hope you enjoy! <3

Masterlist

“You wanna hold him again, love?” you ask your husband in a murmur, barely able to pull your gaze up from your newborn. He’s tiny and perfect, and you just can’t get enough of him, even after a couple of hours. 

Steve’s perched next to you on the bed, one strong arm around your body. His thumb traces short, gentle lines over the hill of your shoulder, nose pressing against your temple as he gazes down at your son, “Mhm, yeah, if—“

“You better not be saying ‘if it’s okay with me’, he’s your son, too, Steve. Here, you take him,” you elbow him gently, knowing exactly what he’s thinking. It’s adorable, but totally not necessary. 

His cheeks flame red as he carefully takes the bundle of blankets from you, sheepish as he mumbles, “That’s not what I was gonna say—“

“Save it, baby, I know you better than that.”

He huffs but doesn’t say anything, immediately drawn to his baby boy in his arms instead. He looks like a mini version of you, your nose and eyes that he loves so much; it makes his heart grow ten times bigger. He does have a full head of hair that’s definitely the Harrington gene, though. And maybe he has Steve’s lips, too. 

Steve pulls his arms up, pressing a kiss to his head gently before he moves towards the chair in the corner of the room that he’s claimed as his. Just as he’s about to settle into the chair, a nurse enters the room to check on everyone. She smiles at the sight of your baby boy in Steve’s arms and says, “You know, there’s a lot of benefits of doing skin-to-skin with your newborn. Especially for dad and baby. Helps to regulate baby, and is great for bonding with your baby. Wanna give it a try?”

You expect Steve to say no. Not that he doesn’t care or doesn’t want to, but you can count the number of times you’ve seen him with his shirt off in public on one hand. After his time in the upside down, he’s marred with scars. Deep ones that eat into his sides and pucker his skin, that are rough and not pleasant to look at. The first time he’d gotten up the courage to take off his shirt at the pool, scars still fresh and pink, he’d gotten incredulous looks and nasty stares. He’d quickly learned that it was better to keep his clothes on to keep the questions to a minimum. He wasn’t ashamed, it was just easier that way. The only times Steve took his shirt off in public was if it was around people who knew what had happened, and even then, sometimes he didn’t want to. The scars were a reminder of all the shit they’d been through, and sometimes it was easier to pretend they didn’t exist. 

So, to say you’re surprised when Steve immediately agrees is an understatement. You watch in shock — and admiration — as Steve hands your son back to you for a moment so he can pull his shirt over his head. In fact, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him remove his shirt so quickly, even after all your years together. The bite-shaped scars, though not as prominent as they once were, are on full display, still slightly pink and raised against his tan skin. If the nurse notices, she doesn’t say anything; she only smiles, suppressing a laugh as Steve trades you his shirt for your son. 

He takes him carefully, as if your son is made of glass and could break at any moment. He handles him so delicately it makes your heart burst, and you cradle Steve’s shirt to your own chest. Steve finally sits down, placing his little boy in his lap so he can unwrap the blankets and get him out of his tiny onesie. It’s so small that it nearly makes you cry, even more so as you watch your husband lift your son back up and lay him against his chest once the onesie has been set aside. 

He pauses for a moment, not quite comfortable in the chair yet, eyes flicking to the nurse in the corner of the room as he asks, “It’s not— he’s not gonna be too cold, right?”

“Not at all! Skin to skin is actually great for regulating a baby’s body temperature. He’ll be just fine.”

Steve considers what she’s saying and then nods, finally leaning back into his chair, holding your boy to his chest, “Yeah. Okay, yeah, that’s good.” For someone who had been almost as terrified about being a dad as he was excited, he’s taking to it quickly, just like you knew he would. You knew his insecurities had more to do with his parents than his own ability to be a parent, and so far, he’s already proving himself wrong. 

The newborn scrunch is in full effect, your son’s tiny limbs tucked mostly underneath his body against Steve’s chest. He looks content, and you honestly can’t blame him — Steve’s chest is also one of your favorite places to be. Your husband looks just as content; one hand covering the entirety of your son’s back, fingers behind his head for support, the other hand on his small, diaper-covered bum to keep him in place. Steve’s eyes flutter closed after a few moments, settling back into the chair comfortably.

There’s a Polaroid camera sitting on the bedside table next to you, and you reach for it so you can take a picture. You want to remember this. Not only for the sweet moment, but also for Steve’s clear and immediate love for his little boy. The noise of the camera is a lot louder than you anticipated, and Steve cracks one eye open, sending you the best fake glare he can muster with just one eye. It’s ridiculous and it makes you laugh behind your hand, not wanting to wake your sleeping baby. You murmur a half-hearted apology as the picture prints, not really meaning it. 

Steve snorts his own laugh, his chest moving enough for your little boy to grunt quietly in protest, shifting his position against Steve. Quick to soothe, Steve pats at his tiny back gently, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “I know, I know, I’m sorry, sweetheart. Mama’s interrupting our quality time, huh? She had nine whole months with you, and she just has to interrupt us.” 

“Steve,” you giggle, shaking your head as you hold up the now developed picture, “I was trying to capture the moment!”

“Shhh, we’re bonding!”

[glitchfiles]

jeno fucking a dumb sensitive overly submissive reader?

a/n: sorry to the anon that sent this months ago... but, ig i'm officially back now :D

by the time jeno decides to slide his fingers out of your poor sopping cunt, you can barely tell where or when you are anymore. you sit and twitch in his lap, basking in the numbing daze of being fingerfucked through a countless number of orgasms. his arms wrap around your body bringing your back flush against him, his erection presses firmly against your ass.

"baby...” he whispers lustily into your ear.

"jen- i-i just-" you've barely caught your breath and your legs are still shaking.

"don't tell me you've had enough, i haven't even cum yet." he pouts while rocking his hips against you to emphasise his desperation. "lemme keep making you feel good." his mouth grazes your shoulder as his hands skim down your tummy to push your thighs apart.

"you don't want me to stop, do you?" it sounds more like he's telling you than a question. of course, he knows what your body wants better than you; there's no way you can deny him. 

jeno wastes no time rearranging your tired limbs, laying you on your back. he crawls over you eclipsing and caging you with his muscular form, a darkness akin to that of a starved beast ready to descend swirling behind his sparkly brown eyes. your entire body jumps in surprise as you feel his hard cock brush against your puffy folds.

"sure you can take it?" he chuckles, reaching a hand down to take hold of his girth and slap it down against your swollen clit - a feeling you can't help but mewl at.

"please, jeno, please! i want- i need your cock." tears begin to prick your eyes. the empty feeling between your legs begins to gnaw at your sanity. 

how can he deny you when you beg so, so well? you bite back a whine as he buries his swollen tip into your slit. a sensation so searingly pleasurable begins to spread through your body as he sinks into you. 

"oh my f- jeno!" you shriek, the stretch becoming more overwhelming with each inch. "it's so, i- you're so-"

"it's okay," he coos out as your clumsy hands rush to claw at the sheets. "i know baby, you’re still sensitive, but you’re gonna be good and take it all, m’kay."

this was the part jeno loved. his eyes don't leave your face for a second as he bullies the rest of his cock into you. your eyes gloss over and your mouth lolls open, the feeling of being filled so well was just too much for your poor, dumb brain to handle.

your sensitivity seemly becomes contagious, as he takes a moment to revel in your warmth; your walls grip and suck around him, even though you swore you couldn't take it a couple of minutes ago.

he takes hold of your waist pulling out to sharply thrust back in forcing a hiccup out of you. the meek sounds turn into garbled moans about how good it feels as he picks up the pace, each thrust sending you further into hysteria. 

"takin' me so fucking well." he strains, “my perfect, dumb little fuckdoll.”

his heart swells as tears begin to spill from your eyes but it's overpowered by the need to ruin you further. as you sob, he clutches your jaw and kisses you tenderly while bucking into you viciously. your cunt convulses around him so enticingly, your legs spread further under the influence of his strong hand so easily, 

"shit, not gonna last long, baby, feel too good." you can barely even process what he’s saying any more. all you can do is take him and feverishly shudder at the feeling of your silky walls being stretched to their limit.  

jeno just barely makes out the word ‘inside’ between the jumble of sounds coming out of your mouth.

"cum for me first, yeah?" jeno can feel his balls tightening, your heat gripping him dizzyingly tight, begging to be pumped full. "wanna see you make a mess all over my cock."

jeno's thumb rubs down on your clit in rapid circles as his thrusts start getting choppy. his moans getting whinier by the second. 

a burst of power seems to shoot through him as he lifts your hips higher angling himself to perfectly hit your spot. you let out a shrill before releasing; making a bigger mess than either of you expected as you squirt all over his abdomen.

“good girl, messy fucking slut,” the sound of your skin slapping together becomes overwhelmingly wet. all the stimuli push jeno over the edge; his nails dig into your hips, pushing the both of you to your limit to hit your deepest spots. 

“gonna- take it all for me, i’m- fuck!” he lets out an almost pained groan as he pumps thick, hot spurts of cum deep inside of you. eyes rolling back as his mouth hangs open. 

jeno just barely catches himself before smooshing you under his weight. you’re still trembling and gasping at the aftershocks of it all as he rests his forehead against your own. his breath fans over your face before he connects his lips with yours passionately, turning into somewhat of a doting puppy now his carnal desires have been satiated.

“okay? too much?” he breathes out, sweetly dotting kisses all over your face.

“‘m okay,” you slur, eyes barely staying open. he had drained all the energy out of you; you’re surprised you’re even still conscious.

“did so well for me,” he plants one last peck on your lips, “think that might have been the hardest i’ve ever cum, thank you.”

[jyoongim]

Hi, I would like to ask Adam x female reader, him having sex with the reader, his best exterminator

🙏🏽Note: I am not an Adam fan so i dont know how if this is good.

I HATE THIS SO BAD. YALL I CANT I CANT DO IT *sobbing into pillow* you’ll never get another Adam fic from me

Title: His Best

———————————————————————————————-

You smiled as another extermination went successful. No mishaps and everyone was in one piece. The ladies were calling for a celebration and you nodded, there was no need to soil their fun with plans for next year.

A hand was on your shoulder, pulling you from your chatter, Lute. She nodded her head off to the distance, grinning “Report due”

You nodded and flew to where Adam was to give the annual report.

You were THE top exorcist in Adam’s little angelic harem.

You thought Lute was a bad bitch? Ha! She had nothing on you.

Your skills and strategy on demon extermination was always praise worthy, making you rise in rank rather quickly.

The number of kills you racked in every year? 

Legend.

You tried to clean yourself up slightly, wanting to portray some sort of elegance, but knocked at his office door regardless.

”Lute said you wanted the report sir?” You asked as you approached your commander.

Adam smiled at you, leaning his head on his hand ”yea lay it on me Danger Tits”

You stood like a soldier as you gave the report. You reported the number of hellspawns killed, who made the most kills and who needed to improve their combat training. 

You must have been rambling too much because you didn’t even notice you had started to pace and Adam had wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you into him

“Whoa whoa babes! Hey! Relaaaax. Chill out for a bit” he laughed as you frowned, but relaxed against him.

”you know I LOVE when you talk violence babe but for now…”he started to press kisses to your neck

”I thought i should honor my baddest bitch” you hummed as he removed your mask, smiling when he finally saw your beautiful face.

You pulled away to remove your bloody uniform and burst into giggles as Adam pounced on you, picking you up and sitting you on the desk.

Adam wasted no time in slamming his lips on yours as his hands roamed your body.

You moaned into his mouth as one of his hands tweaked your nipples, pinching and tugging at the sensitive nubs.

The other slipped between your legs, softly brushing against your slit.

You tugged at his heavenly robes as he toyed with you.

”ha! But i promised to celebrate with the girls”you faked concern as his lips trailed down your chest to suck a tit into his mouth sighing as his tongue swirled around a nipple.

He let out a low growl, dipping a finger into your warm heat. ”Oh fuck ‘em. They’ll be fine. Lute can handle them”

Your back arched as another finger sunk into you, pulling a shaky moan from your lips.

Your hips grinded against his hand, riding his fingers as you threw your head back “f-fuck!” You cried, the sensation from both his mouth and fingers had your body tingling. 

“Sera is gonna want my re-report so we have to make this quick” you keened as he kneeled down, trailing kisses from your chest to your slippery folds.

Adam ignored your comment, instead he focused on your puffy clit. He flicked his tongue against the bud, eyes watching as your mouth fell open in a soft gasp. You leaned back slightly, spreading your thighs for him as you jutted your hips against his mouth.

He watched your face contort with pleasure as he trailed his tongue from your clit to slit and back. Wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves and softly sucking, using his tongue to coax more slick from you.

“Quick? Oh babe you deserve way more than a quickie buuut if you insist” he mumbled against your pussy.

He gave your cunt one last lick before standing and turning you over, your feet planted as you leaned over the desk. You wiggled your ass at him teasingly, giggling as he smacked your ass and rubbed the tip of his dick against you.

You swear your eyes sported heart eyes when he sunk his dick into you. “Ooh fuck! Yes!” You cried as he set a rough pace, dick hitting those spots that only he could reach.

Soft grunts and whines filled the room as Adam’s hips slammed against yours fap fap fap bounced on the walls as you trembled beneath the angel.

”Tch I never get tired of this pussy. Best pussy I’ve ever fucked” he huffed. You smirked, looking over your shoulder as you pushed your hips back to meet his thrusts  “better than your wives?”

His cock twitched and he growled, burying his hand in your hair, mushing your cheek into the glass. He angled his hips to dig into your gummy walls making you whine

”much better”

You clawed at the glass as he pounded into your pussy, your legs trembling as they tried to support his brute strength. Your thighs were sticky from your slick and you bristled as you felt the pricks of an orgasm approach.

Adam chuckled as your cunt fluttered, clenching as you grinded your hips against him. “Hehe you gonna cum? Already? I thought i trained you better than that baby” you could hear the grin that he wore on his face.

You didn’t get a chance to make a snarky remark, when he starting rubbing at your clit as he slowed his thrusts so you feel him wreck your walls.

You let out a whimper “p-please let me cum sir”, your wings unfurled from your back, curling around him. Adam used your wings as leverage to bounced you along his dick, making your tongue lull and eyes roll.

”I guess you deserve it after today. Go on baby. Cum all over my dick”

Your body tensed and a high-pitch cry left your lips as you slammed your hips against his, milking him of his own orgasm, grinding into him as your orgasm ripped through you.

You slumped against the desk, wings flapping to keep you up. Adam sighed happily as he pulled his dick out of you and watched as his cum dripped down your leg.

You hissed as he slapped your ass “asshole”

Adam chuckled, kissing your shoulder “I can fuck that too babe”

[feyhunter78]

Oooh how about nerd!miguel who gets so nervous when you come to his dorm for the first time? (maybe you forgot something and went there to pick it up) like he’d be eyeing you sitting on his bed but trying not to make it obvious ☺️

I definitely cannnn, I made this a bit more spicy than maybe you intended, and I had it be the second time y/n is at Miguel's apartment for plot reasons, but I hope you like it anyways!!!!

Door Frames and Doorways

Artist cred: twitter jammunin

Miguel’s apartment complex is nice, like really nice. Four gates, elevators, 24-hour security, and you’re pretty sure you saw at least six Ferraris in the parking garage.

You punch in the code and wait until the gate opens, your phone in one hand while you walk, scanning the garage for the elevators. Once inside, you press the button for Miguel’s floor, and lean against the mirrored walls, watching the numbers climb. It’s fancy, more like a hotel elevator than an apartment. Finally, the doors ding and slide open, you step out onto plush carpet, the hall leading to his door is pristine, artwork—hotel style artwork—on the walls, everyone’s doors are decorated with name plates and their apartment number.

O’Hara 2099, Miguel’s nameplate reads, and you knock quietly. It is getting late, and you’d hate to disturb any of the other residents, but you really need your planner.

You wait a second, then knock again, nothing. You go to text Miguel, then the door swings open.

You’re greeted by Gabriel clad in the most typical college boy pajamas you’ve ever seen, red gingham pants and a white muscle shirt, his smile wide, and his eyebrows wriggling cartoonishly. “Well y/n, fancy seeing you here.”

“Hey Gabriel, I left my planner here yesterday, Miguel said I could come by and grab it?” You ask, looking past him for Miguel.

It’s not that you don’t like Gabriel, he’s friendly, sociable, funny, popular but not a dick, and he’s Miguel’s brother so he shares similar features, so he’s definitely not ugly. But he smells like weed, and as much as a small part of you wants to ask if you can take a hit—school has been a bitch, you need a break—you don’t know him like that. Plus, it’s late, and you still have to drive back to your own apartment.

The living room is empty behind him, the TV on, casting dim colors across the floor, the balcony doors open letting in the cool night air, and most likely the smell of weed out.

He opens the door wider, “of course, come in. Miguel’s in his room, did you text him?”

“No, I was going to, but then you opened the door, so.” You follow him in, and he shuts the door behind you. “I was already home when I realized I left it, I’m sorry to barge in on you guys’ night like this.”

“Don’t even worry about it.” He walks into the living room, where you can see a blunt resting in a novelty ashtray. You’re not totally sure, but it looks like a spider. “You want a hit?” He offers you the blunt, that tangy, almost sweet smell hits your nose, and you feel like a nicotine addict feigning for a cigarette, the way you take a half step forward, hand outstretched.

“I shouldn’t…” You tell yourself, and Gabriel, but really yourself.

Gabriel shrugs, “suit yourself. Yo Miguelito, y/n’s here.” He calls out, flopping onto the expensive looking leather couch and taking a deep inhale, holding it, then blowing the smoke out towards the open balcony doors.

There’s a heavy thud, then the jiggle of a door handle, and Miguel’s door bursts open. He looks…out of breath? His hair is tousled, his t-shirt half on, hem riding up, exposing his toned abdomen, his sweatpants sitting low on his hips. “Shit, y/n, I didn’t see your text.”

“She didn’t text you; I heard her knocking.” Gabriel says through a cloud of smoke.

“Well—um—your planner is in here, on my desk, I can grab it for you?” Miguel stutters out, running a hand through his hair, his glasses askew.

“I can get it myself, it’s no big deal.” You reassure him, slipping through the space between him and the door frame.

You’ve been in Miguel’s room before, literally yesterday, but you’re still amazed at how clean it is. His bed set against the far wall, framed photos of his family, awards, and scholarships up on the other. His bathroom door is ajar, and his desk light is off, your planner sitting in the very center of the huge desk with its multiple monitors.

There’s a candle lit, sitting atop his wardrobe, the scent of evergreen drifting through the room, and you detect a more musky undertone, but don’t let the thought linger.

You cross the wide expanse of plush carpet and grab your planner, holding it to your chest. “Thank you so much for finding it, I was freaking out thinking I lost it somewhere on campus.”

He nods his head, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the door frame. “It’s no problem, I know you live and die by that thing.”

“Not all of us can keep a perfect schedule in our heads, Miguel.” You tease, sweeping your eyes around his room.

There’s a decorative pillow on the floor, beside his bed, and without thinking you bend over and grab it, before getting onto his bed and crawling forward placing it back in its rightful place.

Miguel sucks in a sharp breath, and you turn to look at him. His pupils are dilated, his face is flushed, and he keeps shifting his weight, unable to meet your eyes.

“You okay?” You ask, getting off his bed and placing a hand against his forehead.

“Y-Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He says, taking a quick step back and bumping into the wall.

You laugh, finally connecting the dots. “Miguel, are you high?”

He blinks at you, then nods slowly. “Yeah, yeah, sorry, I don’t do it often, Gabri just brought it out, and I only started because my ex wanted me to, but now I only smoke with Gabri I sw—”

Squeezing his shoulder playfully, you look up at him, still laughing a bit. “Miguel, it’s cool, I smoke sometimes, with my sister Kenzie, I’m not judging you.” You explain, giving him a teasing smile, your hand instinctively sliding down to rest above his heart as your laughter dies down. “Look at you, Mr. Genetics Genius partaking of the devil’s lettuce on the weekend, it’s kinda hot.”

Did you really just say that? Why did you say that? What the fuck y/n?? Are you high???

“R-Really?” Miguel asks, his lips, his stupidly plush and perfect lips, parted in surprise.

“Yeah, it’s like a thing, the good boy with a secret dark side. Not that I’d call smoking weed a dark side, but still. I’m a little bummed, though, looks like someone else corrupted my good boy before I could.” You say, a faux pout on your lips.

You’re so glad Miguel can’t hear your heartbeat because you’re pretty sure it’s trying to bust out of your chest.

“Dígalo de nuevo.” Trsl: Say it again.

You tilt your head at him. “What?”

“Say it again, please.” He whispers, his pupil blown wide, his hands hovering over your hips.

“Say what? That I’m bummed someone else corrupted you?” You’re starting to feel self-conscious, doubt trickling in, but you try to push it to the side and loop your arms around Miguel’s neck, fingers threading in his thick locks. “That I’m upset someone else got to my good boy first?”

Miguel lets out a sound akin to a whimper, and heat rushes through you. You’re suddenly aware of just how close to him you are. You’ve practically got him pinned to the wall, and he looks so good, you just want to—

His hands clamp down on your hips, dragging you forward. “Soy tuyo y/n, tu buen chico, tuyo, tuyo, tuyo." Trsl: I’m yours y/n, your good boy, yours, yours, yours.

His words and lips ghost over your own, and you dig your fingers into his shirt, eyes fluttering shut.

“Tuyo?” You ask, head spinning, the scent of Miguel overwhelming your senses, driving every rational thought from your brain.

“Sí, eres mío, dulzura.” He breathes, his voice low, vibrating in your bones, intertwining with your synapses, and filling you with liquid heat. Trsl: Yes, you’re mine, sweetheart, sweetness, darling, etc.

You’re going to do it, you can’t wait any longer, the words are brimming at your lips, waiting to spill over. “Miguel, please, kiss m—”

“Yo, you find that planner or do you guys need help looking?” Gabriel’s voice cuts through the tension, and you all but fling yourself back.

“No—no, we found it, we’re good, thanks.” You call back, too embarrassed to even spare Miguel a glance as you rush out of his apartment, planner pressed to your chest to hide your rapid breathing.

It’s not until you’re halfway home, you realize you didn’t smell any weed on Miguel, but you definitely saw the lotion bottle that had been kicked under his bed.

Miguel’s version here👀👀

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer

[midnightsxblue]

SWEET

carl grimes x reader

(you and carl find a polaroid camera.)

tags: fluff!!!

masterlist here!

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Back at the prison, you and Carl had limited entertainment around. Michonne had found the two of you comics occasionally but you two had gone through an odd phase where you focused on surviving when you had a perfectly safe home. You’d spent more time cleaning your guns and sharpening your knives when you should’ve been reading or playing with legos.

You wish you didn’t have to grow up so fast, you missed being able to not have a care in the world. That’s what you were happy to have Carl, he made you feel better about everything. Even when everyone got sick, you had him and he made you feel better always. He joked around a lot just to make you feel better.

When the prison fell, you guys thankfully ended up with each other. It was traumatic for sure, seeing him fight with his dad like that and just seeing Rick in that state in general. It wasn’t the easiest but you had a chance to feel okay when the two of you were alone. You guys left Rick in the house to go out and scavenge. You encountered some walkers but together you were able to handle it.

Upon searching some houses you ended up finding different books and random puzzle toys to mess with. Your favorite thing you found was a polaroid camera. You took it with you when Carl decided he wanted to eat pudding on the roof. You settled in next to him as he shoved pudding into his mouth. You rotate the camera in your hands, sort of just examining it before you notice the little number on the back. A small one.

“Damn there’s just one left.” You frown, showing Carl the back of the camera. He swallows the pudding and looks at you. “Guess that means we gotta make it count right?” He grins. You nod and agree, Carl set the can of pudding beside him and you scooted closer to him to take the picture. You did something simple, just smiling. You were excited to have something to look at. You snap the picture and let it print from the camera. You hold it face down as you chat with Carl some more and share pudding.

You later look at the developed photo and it was so sweet. It was basically perfect, you can’t remember the last time you’d seen yourself in a photo, you were happy it was with Carl. He’d loved the photo too. He loved you.

“Can I have it?” He asks with a pleading smile. “But I want it.” You counter, holding it to your chest as if you were hiding it away from him. He laughs as you guard the polaroid with your life. The both of you made an agreement that you would rotate days holding the photo as dumb as it sounds.

He could carry it for a day and the next morning he would give it to you. That lasted a couple of days and you kept the camera in case you had found more film. That was until of course, Terminus. There you lost everything, everything but the photo. Carl had the photo that day, you were scared you wouldn’t receive it from him the next.

But like always, you made it out. You felt like you lost hope, there was nothing really to smile about anymore after Terminus and after learning Eugene had lied. All you had was Carl and the polaroid. Up until Alexandria, you felt completely numb. Even first getting to Alexandria you weren’t sure how to react to it, it didn’t even seem real.

The second day you arrived you and Carl searched the house next door. You marveled over how large the houses were, Carol commented about how it was odd they’re just giving them away. Carol left you and Carl alone in the house and you admired the house. The both of you heard a thump from upstairs and were immediately heeded before grabbing your knives from your belts.

You head up the stairs and Carl goes first, hesitating to open the door. He bursts through it dramatically which you sort of giggle at and you follow him inside. The place is scattered around with random shit; paper, books, pillows, music.

“I wonder where this all came from.” Your eyes linger around the room, looking for anything to take for yourself. You didn’t care much about the people in Alexandria. Not yet. “I saw some kids. They probably hang out here.” Carl explains, picking up a comic. You look around the room some more and your eyes land on something you’ve been looking for since the prison fell.

“No way.” A grin forms on your face and you walk over to the corner of the room where a Polaroid camera sits on top of a small table. Carl turns to see what you’re excited about and his eyes light up immediately. It seemed as though the simple little machine gave you the spark you’d been missing for weeks. It made you consider the other teens a little more than you had before. You look at the back of the camera to see there’s six left.

Before you can even think about what to do with it, you hear a voice from downstairs asking you and Carl to head back to the house. You take it with and keep it in the room you two were given.

The rest of the day was long, you had talked to way more people then you would’ve liked. Carl seemed so happy about it, he was ready to talk to anyone. He made you feel more comfortable though, you couldn’t have gotten through the day without him.

He did most of the talking. While he talked you couldn’t help but admire his features, it was the only thing you could do at the time. His pretty eyes and his cute nose, the way his hair is cut and his pretty smile. His perfect lips- holy shit you couldn’t get enough. (IM GEEKING SO HARD WRITING THIS SHIT SOMEONE SEND HELP)

You couldn’t wait to get home.

When you did you still couldn’t be alone with him, you had to have dinner and then debrief with everyone about how your days went. You finally got the chance to go up to your room and as you both entered, you closed the door behind you.

It seemed like he was on the same track because he pulled you into him straight after you shut the door. His lips captured yours in a harsh kiss, his fingers gently gripping your waist. You pull from it to place more kisses around his face, his nose his cheeks, everywhere you’d admired earlier. His face immediately heats up and he smiles sweetly.

After kissing all around his face excitedly you pull away and catch your breath, he looks at you amused. “Did you get it outta your system?” He giggles, kicking his shoes off so he can lay down on one of the beds. You nod, doing the same to lay on the other. “Yeah I feel better.” He pats the bed beside him and pulls out the comic he’d found earlier. You walk over and sit next to him and begin to read. You yawn, kinda bored since the comic didn’t really tickle your fancy but you get an idea that might pay off nicely for you.

You lean to the nightstand and grab the camera which Carl payed no mind to. You point it at him and he sort of side eyes you right as you snap the photo. He looks at you weirdly with a smile and nudges you away. “Stop.” He says lightheartedly, sort of laughing. You pull the printed film and set it on your lap. “No you’re cute.” You respond, snapping another picture of him while he’s caught off guard, not even looking at you but at the comic. “Noooo.” He shoves his hand in front of the camera and grabs it tightly. “Hey-” He pulls it away from you and sets it on the floor on his side of the bed.

“You’re no fun.” You joke, gathering the two photos you were able to take. You wait for them to develop and when they do, you cannot contain your laughter.

The first photo he was side eyeing the camera, looking super confused and slightly irritated. The second was just adorable, he was in the middle of licking his lips so his tongue was just sticking out slightly as he looked at the comic he was reading. Carl looked over at the photos. “These are terrible.” He takes them from your hands and examines them. “Noooo you’re so adorable. Look how pissed you look in this one.” You laugh. He rolls his eyes and places them aside with his comic.

“Whatever.” He sighs and pulls you into him, nuzzling his face into your neck. He closes his eyes and yawns, placing a small kiss on your neck. You melt under his touch, delicately running your fingers through his hair.

“I’m keeping those.”

“You’re not.”

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a/n: i yapped so much this one SORRY GUYS :> okay i added some stuff im ok with writing in my rules soooo go check that out!!!! also my masterlist was broken so that’s fixed now too :)) andddd i have an inspo pic from an episode of like what the second photo would sort of look like YOU KNOW i just mean like his tongue sticking out i’ll link it here :p

[circeyoru]

What if there's a side story of Collection Of Overlords where the hotel crew accidentally made Bambi, specifically from Unwanted Soul HAHAHA

Like, another of one Charlie's random activities that they wanted to know Alastor more, and they kept bugging him so Alastor just thought about telling them about his voodoo stuff

And the Charlie wanted him to show them, and Alastor hesitantly accepted, but then some like, loud crash or something interrupted Alastor's spell that made..

Our little Cursed Cat! Bambi!

HAHAHAH

Everyone was stunned, and Alastor literally panicked when he realized Bambi took a run towards Collector/Reader's room

Cat's are liquid, so Bambi slipped right under the crack of the door making Alastor have a heart attack 😭

But once Alastor slammed the door open and was about to protest, Collector/Reader had already picked up the cursed cat and is petting it

"MY LIEGE-"

"hmm? Oh Alastor, did you know about this adorable kitty? You two resemble alot"

3am thoughts.. THEYRE EATING ME UP

OH OH!!! Cursed Cat Alastor strikes again!! This series' first Cursed Cat Alastor appearance!!!

I'm pretty sure a lot of people already know Alastor's Reader's/your favourite Elite in your collection. Plus Alastor's actively keeping it only belonging to him. And what happens when Cursed Cat Alastor comes along? Well...

In this story, I don't think Alastor's willing to share his power without cause or a good reason, cause you play a role in his vast abilities, so he's not gonna show them off like that. He's trying to mimic your mysteriousness. So in this ask, (1) Alastor's not gonna join Charlie's activities when you're in the hotel, (2) Alastor won't let Charlie learn much of him as he believes you're the only one that should know -cause you own his soul so him too-, and (3) Alastor's not gonna entertain Charlie like that.

So how does Curse Cat Alastor appear?

Let's say, Alastor was performing his duties. He's testing some powers you lend him in order to reconstruct his room to what it was before (remember half of his room was a literal swamp? yeah, that) and then some new features to prove he can handle things. Then Charlie and Vaggie suddenly burst into his room unannounced and he messed up.

Poof! Cursed Cat Alastor is here!!

"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry!" Charlie tried apologizing so many times "We didn't knock cause it was urgent." Vaggie somewhat lied They didn't catch the red creature that run through them and out of Alastor's room Alastor sighed, a bit annoyed but kept his composure, "What is it that you need, Charlie?" Vaggie watched the cat run, "Huh, it's going to that guest's room. You know, that one that actually paid."

Remember how it was with Alastor and your powers combined? Yee, Cursed Cat Alastor is literally built to locate you. Not only that, but it shares the same affection Alastor would to you. So? Competition!

Alastor panics and immediately runs after it, he can't risk using his powers cause he didn't want to mess anything up.

Meanwhile, you're in the library, looking through a number of books that float around you. As usual, your eyes remained closed. You sat in a chair without anything near you apart from the floating opened books. Your concentration broken when you heard scratching sounds directly below you. You paused in your reading and leaned over to see what was making that noise.

"Hello, you."

You heard the static meow from the cat that weirdly resembles Alastor way too much. You weren't aware of any hell version of a cat being red or having that kind of smile, not to mention owning and wearing a mini monocle.

"Aren't you cute?"

You reached to pick it up slowly, to test and see if it would claw at you or express defense. If it was a cat, then they don't like to be touched too much. Truly reminds you of Alastor. You noticed it shaking a bit and turned it to the side to see its tail wagging happily and excitedly.

You carefully placed it on your lap, letting it make itself comfortable. It purred loudly with static effects when you started patting its head, then moving down its back. You hummed along and smiled. When you asked if it could understand you, it nodded and purred, its head nudging into your stomach.

"Any owner?"

It hissed loudly, but then its ears drooped down and bowed its head down as if apologizing for its rude actions.

Your smile widened, got to love its personality and the resemblance it had with Alastor. So... "Let's forget your old owner, now, you follow me."

It meowed loudly, sitting at attention as if sensing what you're about to do.

Your fingers snapped and a black collar appeared, "Let's name you Red, you're fur was the first thing I noticed, you see."

The collar was inscribed with the bolded and capitalized name 'RED' with a wave of your finger and placed around its neck. Red purred and hugged you in gratitude.

"My Liege!" The doors burst opened and in rushed Alastor who looked like he fought krakens barehanded. His eyes glared down at Red who was in your wonderful hold. "I apologize for troubling your reading time, but I'll be removing this... thing that has taken up your space."

"Oh, no need. This is my new pet, Red. Red, say hello to Alastor."

Red hissed at Alastor and leaned closer to you.

Alastor emitted deafening static at the creature with his head tilted to the side.

You smile, "Aww, you two are getting aloud already~"

The characters are from {Collection of Overlords} here, you can check it out in MASTERLIST for the works

[apomaro-mellow]

Wrong Number 5

Eddie had been having a greatest time eating in his apartment that anyone could have. Because he wasn't alone. He was with Steve. And then he got to share one of his childhood favorite movies with him. Even though it was a first date, Eddie got the feel that casual was okay. So he'd started the video call with a red t-shirt and black jeans. He knew the odds of Steve seeing his bottom half but he wanted to look nice all the way anyway.

When Steve answered the call and Eddie saw him fill the screen with a very respectable "first date" shirt, he imagined the bottoms were probably a good pair of jeans or maybe even khakis. Steve looked like a khaki guy. What Eddie did not expect was to be flashed when Steve got up in the middle of the movie to get a drink.

But he got up, giving Eddie an eyeful of a bulge in navy blue lace. And then Steve turned and Eddie got to see it from the back. He had to have been hallucinating. There was no way he had actually seen that. It had to be an illusi-and he was coming back and those were definitely panties that Steve was wearing.

"....Eddie?" Steve looked at his wide eyes. The man hadn't spoken for a full minute.

"Baby...are you wearing something naughty?"

Steve bit his lip. "I wasn't trying to be naughty. Robin just thought that I could...well, use the confidence?"

"Don't tell me a pretty thing like you is insecure, I won't believe it", Eddie smiled.

"Well those were Robin's thoughts, not mine." Steve turned the movie down a bit and it was clear Eddie and lowered the volume on his end too. "Do you like them?"

"My brain went to moon. I think you're trying to kill me."

Steve's already high confidence jumped to the ceiling. It was nice to be appreciated.

"Can I see them again?", Eddie asked.

"I thought they were fatal?", Steve smirked.

"You know, I've decided I've lived long enough. And if I have my choice of how I go, I choose death by Steve."

"Okay, but if I have a choice, I'm keeping you alive. But if you insiiiist." Steve had returned to his seat on the floor when he got back from the kitchen, and now he rose up to sit on the couch. His legs were crossed, blocking Eddie's view.

The man on his phone whined. "Don't make me beg."

"Hmm, but what if I like begging?"

"Please, please baby, pretty please, lemme see you?" Eddie's hands were pressed together in prayer.

The way he was positioned (in the phone, on the coffee table) it was like he was kneeling before Steve. Slowly, he uncrossed his legs and even spread them a little, smiling when he heard Eddie's intake of breath.

"Shit...Were you planning on showing me this tonight?"

"If you were good...maybe", Steve teased. "What do you think? Have you been a good boy?"

Eddie nodded frantically, hair flopping, jaw dropped as Steve shifted and he got to watch the bulge between his legs move. He would do anything. Beg, kneel, bark, whatever Steve wanted him to do. Fuck, if he was really there, his head would already be in between his legs.

"I bet you could crack my skull with those legs, Jesus."

From his vantage point, Eddie could only make out up to the bottom of his mouth and while he liked his current view, that just wouldn't do at all.

"I've got an idea...What do you say to moving this to the bedroom?"

Steve grabbed his phone and started walking. Eddie straight up sprinted and collapsed onto his bed.

"You're not going to have anyone burst in with a 'code red', are they?", Steve asked as he got onto his own bed, laying down and holding his phone to his face.

"I have blocked out the entire night for you, Stevie. My crew knows that all Code Reds are to be handled by my second in command."

Okay, that made him feel a little special. Steve bit his lip. "I've never really done anything like this before..."

"What? Taking a date to your bedroom? Once again, I won't believe it. You're probably beating them back with a stick." Eddie was literally looking at him. There was no way he didn't have a line of admirers going down the street.

"I meant on like...video. So how do you want me?"

"Well I typically get a burger with my shakes", Eddie waggled his brows.

"Eddie", Steve laughed.

"Wait, I can do better! Can I get a split-top bun, since you've got a whole bakery in the back?" Eddie beamed as the screen shook while Steve was laughing. "Just get comfortable, baby."

Steve did just that, lying on his back, holding his phone above his head. Eddie was in a similar position in his own bed.

"Okay, I think I've done the whole 'teacher is secretly a model' bit before but Christ alive, it's like you've got no bad angles."

"Eddie, I think you're stalling", Steve grinned. At first, he had been nervous about doing this over video, but now it seemed like Eddie was the one who was anxious.

"If I stall by complimenting you, is it really stalling?"

"If you were here...what would you do to me?", Steve asked.

"I would kiss you so hard, you'd pass out", Eddie admitted. "Full on Pepe LePew treatment. I'd start on your hand and make my way up and then I'm not letting those lips go until they're raw."

Steve brushed his fingers against his mouth. It had been a while since he'd been kissed like that, but Eddie wasn't done.

"And don't think I haven't noticed how those moles go all the way down. I think if I get started kissing them now, I can be to your thighs by Christmas."

Steve didn't miss the strong implication of Eddie's physical presence. They hadn't really talked about meeting in real life yet, both of them aware of how risky it could be to meet someone like that. But as time went on, the dangers seemed to melt away.

Steve's hand trailed down his body. He made sure to angle his phone so that Eddie could see just that. "God, I've thought about your hands so much..." His hand came back up to touch his lips.

"I can tell you want to, baby. Go ahead and suck on them. Pretend they're mine."

Permission granted, Steve stuck two in his mouth. Enraptured, Eddie started to paw at himself through his jeans. Steve's mouth was so pretty and it was already so wet. It didn't hurt that he was already moaning. God, he needed to find out where Steve lived and buy himself a plane ticket. He needed to get his hands on him yesterday.

"Mmm, and you know, once my fingers are nice and wet, I like to put them elsewhere. Where do you want me to touch?"

Slowly, Steve pulled them out of his mouth. "Everywhere", he said, lightly panting.

Eddie's canines showed as he smiled. He unzipped his pants, purposely making it as loud as he could so that Steve would know. "I'd like that too. But let's narrow it down, beautiful."

"How's about I show you?"

Eddie's eyes got wide as Steve changed positions and even moved some pillows around and now he had a front row seat to the most prime ass he'd ever seen. Steve was on his knees and bent over slowly. He pulled his panties to the side with one hand and pushed one of his glistening fingers inside.

"Aaahh, Eddie", he moaned, bringing the other man back into it.

"Fucking hell, look at you." Eddie used one hand to pushed the band of his boxers down and bring out his cock.

Steve pushed another into him, pressing his forehead against the bed. He didn't know what he'd been so anxious about. He wanted nothing more than to have Eddie looking at him. Eddie getting hard and jerking off while looking at him.

"Eddie...I need, I need you..."

Eddie spit in his hand and kept stroking. "Tell me, angel. What do you need me to do?"

Steve whined and Eddie watched as his ass shook, fingers sinking in deep before pulling them out and pushing in again. He bet anything if Steve turned around, he'd see a wet spot on those panties.

"Don't worry, Stevie, I'm gonna tell you what to do. Is that okay?"

He saw Steve's head shake in what could've been a nod, but he was glad when he got the vocal confirmation. Eddie directed Steve and soon he had turned (Eddie had been right about the wet spot) so now he was facing the camera. The ass shot was hot but Eddie wanted to see his face when he came. He now also had a pillow under his hips to help with the angle.

And damn if he wasn't an absolute vision, rutting against the pillow, lips parted in a perpetual moan. Eddie had gotten some lube for his hand, but he knew his fist paled in comparison to Steve Harrington.

"Shit, I needa have you Steve. Wanna feel you, make you mine."

"I'm already yours", Steve said, making Eddie whimper. "I'm all yours, Eds, no one else's."

Apparently he was in a really possessive mood because that just put him right over the edge. This beautiful man was pleasuring himself and he only had eyes for Eddie. He made sure his cumshot was in the frame and watched as Steve's eyes glazed over. His licked his lips and bucked into his pillow, Eddie's name leaving his mouth on a sigh.

Eddie swallowed, his throat a little dry. "Can I see?"

Steve didn't need to ask what he meant. He picked up his phone and rose up on his knees, showing Eddie the tip of his cock peeking out of his panties, cum cooling on his stomach as his shirt had ridden up.

"Mmm, fuck. What's that rule in your classroom? About not wasting good food?"

"If you were here, I'd let you lick it all up", Steve said.

"Yeah, about that...can we...?"

"Talk? How do you feel about morning afters?", Steve asked.

"Usually they're pretty awkward", Eddie admitted with a shrug. "But considering I don't need to worry about you kicking me out..."

"Are you free for breakfast?"

"You mean brunch?"

Steve smiled. "It's a date then. Good night, Eddie."

"Good night, my darling."

Part 7

Tag Team (CLOSED)

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @newtstabber @omletlove @ifyoudonlysurrender @rehfan @morganski-19 @corvidcantina @dragonmama76 @just-ladyme @tinyplanet95 @goodolefashionedloverboi @idoquitelikebread @kittydeadbones @manda-panda-monium @rhapsodyinalto @paintsplatteredandimperfect @keylime-green @ihavekidneys @samsoble @honorarybrit81 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @aizawa-emma @deleataecount @thesuninyaface @fromapayphone @justmeinadaze @hbyrde36 @queenie-ofthe-void @resident-gay-bitch @bestwifehaver @dangdirtydemons @ellietheasexylibrarian @perseus-notjackson @pyrohonk @holysteddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @mrsjellymunson @geekymagicalpotato @notaqueenakhaleesi

[lollytea]

Therapy

(Wrote this in five hours without stopping. Nothing fancy. Maybe sloppy and unpolished. Bon appetite???)

"Leave it alone, Darius," Hunter snarled, slamming down his chisel and wooden shape on the desk as he whirled around to face him.

"I'm doing a load anyway!" Retorted Darius, one hand gripping the laundry basket against the hip and the other holding a graphic tee with the solar system printed on it. "You know it bothers me to walk in here and see dirty clothes tossed all over the floor."

"I can do my own laundry!"

Hunter internally winced at his tone the second it burst out of him.

He sounded like the cranky, whiny child that he had once been, always gnashing nonvenomous teeth in an effort to be taken seriously.

Being treated as a child was one of his most explosive buttons. And the worst part was that if pushed, he always acted up in a way that proved them right.

He reeled himself in, filling his lungs to steady his wrung nerves before turning back to his work.

There was a pause.

"I know you are," said Darius, his voice softer than it had been a moment prior. "But considering you've been letting it pile up for the last few days, I figure I'd lend you a hand."

"I don't need a hand." Hunter took furious chunks out of his hunk of wood. "I'm gonna do it myself. I'm just....busy. Right now."

Hunter was "busy" a lot lately, leaving things such as laundry overlooked, as he focused on one obsession after another. Darius referred to his bouts of productivity as "manic episodes."

It was preferable to the other half of the time when he went borderline unresponsive. Those days weren't fun.

He heard a fwump, which was presumably the sound of Darius dropping the shirt back on the floor.

"Ocellena called," He said.

Hunter's rough attempts at whittling went still. "That's...the therapist's name, right?"

"Yes. Your first session is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. 3pm."

"Right. Okay." Hunter intoned. "Thanks."

When he offered nothing else, Darius pushed a bit.

"I know you're scared."

Hunter wanted to hotly declare that he wasn't. But he felt like the blood of a lie would seep through his words. He said nothing.

"But you haven't been doing well, Hunter."

He wanted to argue that he was actually doing awesome. But Darius was a lot better at arguing than he was, so he'd probably just end up looking stupid.

"And I promise that this is a step in the right direction."

"I said I was sorry," Hunter found himself uttering in a quiet, scratchy voice.

There he was again, that whiny difficult child inside of him. And in that moment, he had touched Hunter's throat, letting out one final plea to be forgiven.

He didn't know what he expected to happen.

Maybe deep down, he desperately wanted Darius to soften up and say to him, "Oh Hunter, what am I thinking? I shouldn't send you to therapy. You don't deserve that."

Darius said nothing of the sort.

Instead, he sighed. "You have nothing to apologize for,"

Hunter felt fingerpads gently drill against his temple. "How do I get that through your stubborn skull?"

His insides writhed with empty dread.

So, apologizing was worthless in this case. Noted.

Before Darius left the room, Hunter's hair was affectionately ruffled. He slid his eyes shut and savoured the feeling.

Every day for the last few months, Hunter was handled with such gentleness by the people around him. It had become so frequent that he had come close to taking it for granted.

He once caught himself wondering if maybe one day he'd forget how it felt to be treated.....the other way.

Well, it certainly wouldn't be anytime soon.

Hunter was, quite possibly, one of Bonesborough's most insufferable roommates. The number of times Darius and Eberwolf were awoken at untitanly hours by the sound of him suffocating on his own serrated screams was embarrassing.

The memories still seared raw and achey, nowhere close to scabbing over.

He couldn't forget.

And now, he was about to experience it all over again. But for morally correct reasons this time.

Hunter exhaled, irritated by the way it rattled. He leaned forward and hung his head in his hands.

There was a persistent gnaw of guilt in his abdomen that he was doing his damndest to ignore.

He did not want to go to therapy. But he knew he'd be a coward to admit that.

This was supposed to be a noble thing, right? Atonement. He was supposed to be owning up to his mistakes like an adult. But, being faced with the imminent appointment made him feel more like a spineless child than ever.

"Do you know what therapy is?" Darius had asked a few weeks ago when the topic had first been broached.

His tone made made Hunter bristle. He felt patronized. Nothing made him shrink in humiliation more than being confronted with the fact that he still didn't know a lot of things.

"Of course I do!" He snapped, not bothering to mention that he had only learned of the concept a few days prior when Steve brought it up in conversation.

"It's so chill, dude," He had explained. "It really made me reflect on all the bad stuff I did as a scout, y'know? And now I feel like I can finally move past all that business without the ol' baggage wearin' me down."

"But what is it?" Hunter prodded. "What happens in therapy?"

"Well it's...y'know,"

Hunter frowned, impatient. He did not know.

"It's just you and them. In a room together. Alone. And...you talk. About stuff..." Steve shrugged airily. "It's just that, man."

The last words Steve uttered sounded like they were underwater because Hunter had mentally blipped out after hearing the words 'In a room,' 'Alone' and 'talk'

His blood had frozen over.

Steve's wrist was promptly squeezed by Hunter's jittery fingers. And when the older scout curiously met his eyes, he said solemnly, "Steve. You don't have to go there."

Steve smiled his pleasant, lopsided smile. "I want to, Hunter."

His voice was so soft, so sure of itself, that a heavy weight of devastation unloaded in Hunter's stomach.

"Sure, it's scary at first." Steve continued, giving Hunter's knuckles a comforting rap. "But over time....it helps."

And then, he said the words that Hunter selfishly wished he had never heard.

"I go to therapy, and I think I'm now a better guy than I used to be."

The rest of the interaction had fallen flat because Hunter suddenly felt very disconnected from his body, and Steve could not reel him back.

He remembered the curt businesslike knock on the door of his castle bedroom. He knew it as the sound of guards delivering a message. A slip of paper from the Emperor himself, requesting his presence in the throne room. To talk.

He remembered the soft-spoken echoey order once he entered.

"Close the door,"

Hunter would obey. And then, they were alone.

'In a room'

'Alone'

'Talk'

Hunter knew how to read between the lines.

He felt stupid. Naive. They had told him that the things Belos had done to him were wrong.

They promised him that it was wrong.

But it seemed as though Hunter had severely misunderstood.

The actions themselves were not wrong, but the reasoning.

Hunter did not deserve to be punished for failing to carry out the dirty work of a vile, depraved man.

Every punishment was undeserved by default, on the grounds of it being delivered by Belos.

But Hunter, idiot that he was, had foolishly believed that he was never going to be hurt like that again.

And if he was, he would at least take comfort in the fact that it was wrong.

The realizations were crashing over him in overpowering waves. He felt pathetic for not being able to take it.

I'd like to leave the Emperor's Coven and never set foot in that throne room again

I go to therapy, and I'm now a better guy than I used to be

There were people on the Isles who hurt you and....and it was right...?

You face the consequences of your actions, and you allow them to hurt you in a way that was ethical, and then....you were a better person.

Of course.

Of course that was how it worked.

How could he possibly believe it worked any differently?

It had struck him the moment Steve had said it, that nobody on the Isles deserved therapy more than Hunter.

The actions of the Golden Guard had been unspeakably cruel. All the times he had stood there, turning a blind eye, as his uncle tore open a living creature. All the carnage Hunter had allowed to happen directly in front of him.

It was borderline brainless of him to ever assume that he could escape consequences.

He desperately wanted to be a good person. He would start ripping his own innards out if it meant he could be deemed a good person.

He'd do anything. Really.

Which was why he had decided to steel his nerves and agree to therapy.

He would walk into that room and his legs would not shake.

He would tilt up his chin, close his eyes, and stomach the consequences he had earned.

And then, Titan willing, he'd be one step closer to being good.

And yet...he would rather be dismembered than admit it, but...

Hunter was scared. He was scared to receive his punishment.

After everything he had done to innocent lives, Hunter had the audacity to be scared of the punishment.

He disgusted himself.

_______________________________

With the Emperor's Coven dismantled, the vacant police precinct currently had a plethora of uses.

Most notably, it was a research facility that Darius frequented. The current project was working on a safe sigil extraction procedure. Hunter gave Darius a headache by asking for updates every damn day, despite the latter's insistence that it would probably take years to perfect.

But today, when Hunter visited the building, he and Darius did not turn right towards the lab, but they ventured down an entirely foreign hallway.

Hunter was doing everything in his power to keep his breathing steady.

"Would you like me to sit in the waiting room?" Asked Darius.

"No," Hunter answered.

They continued to cut through the hallway in silence.

"Yes," He corrected himself, so quiet he worried Darius wouldn't hear it.

He did hear it. "Alright. I think we'll pick up some fatty junk from the market for dinner tonight. I don't feel like cooking."

Darius hated fatty junk.

Despite the terror teething his insides, Hunter's lip still quirked upwards, feeling the tiniest surge of warmth.

He loved fatty junk. And Darius knew it.

His therapy session was not the end of the world. Life would continue afterwards, and there would still be little pleasures.

And he would be a better person than he was now.

Once Darius checked him in, Hunter tried not to squirm in the uncomfortable waiting room chair, debating whether he wanted to pick up one of the trashy magazines on the rack.

According to the front cover of one of the tabloids, a star grudgby player had an organ eating scandal. Typical tabloid stuff.

"Hunter?" Called a soft, docile voice that nonetheless made him glad he didn't eat breakfast because he wanted to puke.

Darius tapped his knee to signal him to stand up, which Hunter did. He managed to not cave in.

He crossed the waiting room and pushed the door open, pretending that he wasn't experiencing alarming flashes of hands and eyes and dripping green blades.

He was ready. He was going to be a good person.

"Hello, Hunter~" Singsonged a small pudgy woman, who was in the process of donning an ankle length cardigan. Occellena. "Do you find it chilly in here, by any chance?" She asked.

Taken aback by the question, Hunter dumbly shook his head.

"Guess it's just me, then. It's a curse. Cold blooded n' all."

She had a head of plump indigo tentacles, and her bright amber eyes were magnified by jar-like spectacles.

"Well, let me know if you catch a chill and I'll turn up the heater."

The heater in question was a crystal ball the size of an ottoman with a blazing flame contained in the glass.

Occellena swept across the room to where Hunter stood and put a hand to the door. "Let's just close this and we can get--"

As far as he was aware, he did not do anything. But something made her take pause, and when she glanced his way, he felt himself jot.

"Or would you prefer to keep it open?"

The question initially escaped his comprehension. It seemed out of the realm of his own reality.

Hunter's throat tightened. And when he tried to speak, he failed.

He nodded again.

"Okay!" She said cheerily, like this was the best thing she had heard all day.

Out of the thousands of tangles in Hunter's stomach, one of them spread loose.

It was faint, but he distinctly felt the way that tangle relaxed itself.

"So, we'll leave the door open for now," said Occellena. "And if you decide at any point that you don't want that anymore, you can just pop right up and give it a swing shut."

Defenses still scaling high, Hunter had no idea what to make of this.

"Anyway," She made to walk towards her own chair, politely beckoning him to follow with one of her tentacles. "Shall we sit? I recently got a new couch. I'd really like some feedback on how comfy it is."

_______________________________

Darius would never say it, but his heart was hammering like a jackalope with worry for that ridiculous kid. His legs kept crossing and uncrossing in the waiting room chairs that seemed specifically designed to be uncomfortable.

Darius had bumped into Occellena on a few occasions in the upstairs kitchen. He had spiked his apple blood while she grounded oyster shells into her tea. He had never been one for chit-chat, but she had been nothing but bubbly with him, in spite of his less than enthusiastic responses.

He couldn't determine her skills as a therapist from just a few conversations, but the extensive research he had done to find a qualified candidate had promised that she was highly competent

But was she 'Golden Guard as a client' competent?

Was anyone?

If all else failed, she was sweet. Hunter loved sweet people.

He needed this to go well. If Hunter had a bad therapy experience, it would both stunt his recovery progress and leave him far less willing to try again for the foreseeable future.

Darius resisted the urge to stand up and pace the room, knowing his footsteps would probably disturb Hunter's session.

He noticed that the door remained slightly ajar, which he found peculiar.

Were they not supposed to keep the doors closed? Client confidentiality and all that mumbo jumbo?

Granted, he could not make out the words being said. The pitch of two voices, definitely, but it was all muffled nothingness.

His nerves were barbed during those first few minutes, in which Occellena carried on speaking for several seconds at a time, while Hunter only offered singular sentences as a response.

It was fine, he convinced himself. They were just warming up.

The moments passed, and the session seemed to take a turn in a positive direction.

The seconds in which the slightly lower pitched voice stretched a little bit longer every time he spoke. Louder too.

At some point, he seemed to take off babbling, presumably having one of those obsession buttons pushed.

Darius could only imagine that Occellena had asked about one of Hunter's many passions. That would certainly work wonders.

He had such terrible control of his own volume when he got too eager, so this was a promising sign.

After that, the conversation took a subdued dip, the silences hanging for longer.

And then, he heard footsteps. He straightened his posture, startled by the session seemingly wrapping up so soon.

But no. It was the door clicking shut.

From then on, total silence. Thirty minutes of just Darius, his trashy tales of organ eating athletes, and the vacant uncertainty of how Hunter's first therapy session was going.

And then it was over.

When Darius saw Hunter emerge from the room with Occellena's hand on his shoulder, his eyes were strikingly rimmed with red.

"So I'll see you next week. Don't worry yourself with telling Jewel, I'll have her put it down in the system. Be sure to take it easy for the rest of the evening, alright?"

Though he looked like every ounce of energy had been sapped out of him, Hunter still pulled up a smile for her, and Darius recognized sincere warmth on that face when he saw it.

"I will. Thanks, Occellena,"

And when he approached Darius, he looked relieved, ashamed, and dazed all at once.

"Hey," He greeted, uncharacteristically quiet.

"Hey," Darius responded, softly incredulous. "Shall we go ruin our skin with your accursed bag of grease now?"

His reddened eyes glinted with light boyish amusement. He nodded.

Hunter did not say much during their quest through the Bonesborough marketplace, and Darius vaguely wondered if he should be concerned.

As much as he complained about the boy being an incurable chatterbox, his silence unnerved him.

Hopefully, the session had used up too much of his blabbering muscles.

It wasn't until they were home and seated on opposite ends of the dining room table that Darius understood.

One of his most strictly enforced household rules was that dinner must be served on an actual plate. No takeout containers allowed on his property.

His nose wrinkled in distaste at the atrocity known as deep-fried eyeballs that were making a greasy mess out of his ornate lilac dishes.

Hunter was rolling the unsavoury little orbs around with his fork.

He seemed relaxed, if distracted, so Darius decided to pop the question, only to fill the silence, if anything.

"Do you want to tell me how it went today? With Occellena?"

Hunter's fork went still, but his eyes never dared to draw away from the fatty dinner in front of him.

When he opened his mouth, his bottom lip wobbled, searching for a voice that he did not seem to possess right now.

"It's alright," said Darius. "What happens in therapy stays in therapy. Isn't that what they say?"

Hunter did not respond to that, not even with a glance or a nod or anything of the sort.

He remained hung up on the struggle of getting his initial words out. The bump of his throat bobbed.

Finally, with a small, feeble voice that cracked around the edges, Hunter said, "I didn't think she was gonna be nice to me..."

The silence that fell was born of complete and utter bewilderment. Darius was so flabbergasted by the statement that he spoke before he fully thought it over.

"Well, that is to be expected from therapy," A touch of laughter rose and fell between the words. "I mean, surely you didn't think she would--?"

Darius cut himself off, his smile dropping as he noticed the visible tremor of Hunter's mouth, which he had forced into a thin line.

"Hunter?"

The boy lifted his head, bright brown eyes already pooling with an open, lost, childlike anguish. Then he blinked and it spilled to his cheekbones. He looked to Darius searchingly, like he wanted to ask something, but he could not utter a sound more.

"Hunter...? What did you think was going to happen...?"

[forever1kay]

POWER TRIP !!

Summary: When Miles is forced on a vacation with his mother and a bunch of people from his mom’s past, he expects to be miserable the entire time. But little does he know, you’re lots of fun to be around…

Pairing: Earth 42 Miles x Fem!Black!Reader (Both are 17)

Notes: My friend did not have time to translate for me so I had to take matters into my own hands and use SpanishDict and DeepL. If the translations are shit, please correct me in the comments. I’d really appreciate it. Also, If I mentioned anything about Miles’ hair being in a low ponytail or a bun, I meant what I said. He reminds me of Latrelle from on my block so his hair is very versatile in my mind💀 With that being said, I hope you all enjoy!

Warning(s): Implied Grumpy x Sunshine trope, profanity of course, Rio is definitely an instigator (she means well), Miles is annoyed for majority of the story, rushed relationship, Y/n’s dad is annoying, teenagers in love (you wish that was you huh?) Let me know if I forgot anything!!

When Miles’ mother bursts into his room, speaking in frantic Spanglish about how Miles needs to pack a bag, he has to stop and look at the expression on her face to realize nothing is wrong and he doesn’t need to kill anyone tonight.

His mother tells him that a few of her closest friends from high school had found her Facebook and wanted to meet up, and he couldn’t stay home alone after that stunt he pulled last week when she had to work extra hours at the hospital. And not only did he have to go, but he had to bring his younger cousin Dillon as well so his uncle Aaron could “handle some business.”

Miles just sighed, knowing he couldn’t argue with his mother and began to pack his bags. Three days later, him, Dillon, and his mother had landed in Orlando and were standing in the lobby of an overly colorful hotel. As his mother was checking in, Miles realized he’d rather be anywhere else.

After receiving their right room numbers, the three of them walked to their rooms to settle in before returning to the lobby, where all hell broke loose.

His mother had made the decision to scream and approach two other women who were also screaming. Miles could only shake his head and wish to go home. He thought about escape routes, ride arrangements, and even the possibility of staying at Uncle Aaron's house.

However, his inner thoughts were interrupted as his face was forced into someone's chest.

“Lil’ man!” A random chubby man yelled, his hand tangled into Miles curly ponytail. “You was this big last time I seen you! You done grew some! How old you is?”

“I’m seventeen.” Miles said, his voice muffled by the guy’s chest.

“Seventeen! Damn, how time flies by. You remember me?”

“Nah.” Miles said curtly.

“Miles.” His mother started, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t, ma. ¿Querías que mintiera?”

“Watch the attitude, Miles.” She said, thumping him on the forehead before embracing the strange man and the two screaming women. “These are my friends from high school. Michael, Linda, and Nicole.”

“Nice to meet you.” Dillon and Miles said in unison.

Linda grabbed Michael’s hand before gesturing to the children behind her. “These are our kids; Y/n and Jacob.”

Nicole then joined in. “And these are my sons, Jonny and Tito.”

Miles looks to each kid as they’re being introduced, but he lets his eyes linger on Y/n a little longer until Tito spoke.

“En realidad, mi nombre es Salvador. No Tito. I don’t know why they still call me that.”

Miles chuckles. “I feel you.”

“So how old are you all now?” Miles’ mother asks, squeezing her friends’ children into a hug.

The kids all name their age, and Rio gets excited immediately.

“Y/n and Miles you’re the same age! And Jacob you’re the same age as Dillon! You can all be such great friends. ¡Qué amoroso!”

The adults talk about their kids closeness in age for a second before Rio opens her mouth again.

“Papá, sé amable y ayúdala con sus maletas.”

“No necesita mi ayuda, mami.”

“Miles.”

“Vale, vale…”

“Y/n!” Rio yelled excitedly, gaining your attention. “Miles will help you with your bags.”

You waved your hands and shook your head frantically. “Oh, Mrs. Morales it’s okay! My dad can-“

“Oh don’t worry about him, I insist! Go, Miles.”

Miles sighs as silently as he can and then grabs all four of Y/n’s bags effortlessly, looking at her to lead the way to her room.

“Come back quickly!” Michael yelled, fixing his voice to make it sound deeper than it already was. “Put the bags down and that’s all.”

“Okay, dad. Chill.”

Y/n and Miles walk in silence, never speaking a word to each other although Y/n's stare spoke volumes.

They return to the lobby mostly silently after setting the bags down, with Y/n opening and closing her mouth a few times but never really managing to say anything but “do you like bread?” Which earned her a side eye from Miles.

When they got back, Jonny told them what the adults had decided.

“We’re going to Disney springs.”

Together with a few other hotel guests, the ten of them boarded the Disney shuttle bus and left.

When they got there, the adults made the decision to play a game of rock, paper, scissors to determine where they would all have dinner tonight. Nicole won and decided to let the kids choose.

Michael made an attempt to bribe them into choosing the T-Rex Café, but they all side eyed him and chose Planet Hollywood.

When they arrived, a makeshift red carpet led up to the entryway. Somewhere in the middle, one of the employees offered to take a group photo of them.

Miles took three pictures, two of them courtesy of his mother who insisted they were pictures he should be taking.

One as a group, one with his mother, himself, and Dillon, and one with Y/n.

Both were a little awkward. The former had Rio kissing Miles on the face and pinching Dillon's cheek in public, while the latter… was an interesting thing to talk about.

After taking a picture with his mother and cousin, Miles was about to walk away when Mom stopped him and said

“Y/n! Would you like to take a picture with Miles?”

Miles was so shocked that he couldn’t speak, and Y/n would have dropped her phone had it not been for Jacob's fast reflexes.

“O-oh, no Mrs. Morales, he doesn’t even want to take a picture and I myself am so of tired of pictures, you know, with the flash and everything.”

“Girl don’t play with me.” Linda spoke, inserting herself into their conversation. “You’re a model. You do this for a living. Just take a quick picture with Miles and we can go.”

“Baby she don’t need to take a picture with no boys.” Michael whined, turning his wife to face him.

“You know he’s a good kid, Mike. He’s Rio’s son.”

Y/n's parents continued to argue as she nervously walked over to Miles on the carpet while Rio and the photographer instructed them to smile.

Although Miles didn't smile, he calmly wrapped his arm around Y/n, who jumped at the touch and stared up at him in shock.

“Smile for me, ángel.” Miles spoke lowly enough for only Y/n to hear, meeting her eyes and smirking.

After taking the photo, the photographer gave it to Rio and instructed them to enter the restaurant. Miles walked away from Y/n without another word.

After that awkward fiasco, the group entered the restaurant and were immediately welcomed and seated. Y/n ultimately found herself seated next to Miles, and she could not stop worrying about whether or not her chewing would be too loud. But instead of thinking in her head like normal people, Y/n muttered under her breath, a lot like Deku from My Hero Academia (ifykyk).

Miles noticed and chuckled to himself.

A server took their order a little while later, and a short while after that, they left to look around at the movie props and film scripts around the restaurant.

Later that night, the adults left their kids some money and went on a hot air balloon ride. Since Miles already had money of his own, he gave Dillon the borrowed money and then walked away alone.

Well, at least he thought he was alone.

When he realized he wasn’t, he nearly backhanded the intruder, but they were quicker than he'd thought and caught his wrist.

“Um, okay. Wow. I definitely could’ve died.” Y/n spoke, dropping Miles’ wrist.

“My bad.” Miles spoke, looking her up and down. “Why didn’t you go with everyone else? They need someone to watch after them.”

“Trust me, they don’t. Salvador is very responsible.” She informed him. “Besides, how do you know I’m responsible enough to watch over them?”

Miles shrugged and moved away from Y/n to lean onto the only railing that separates them from the water. "I don't."

Y/n chuckled and then followed him, leaning against the same railing but facing Miles.

Miles gave her a stank face. “I actually came over here to remove myself from you…”

Y/n shrugs. “You intrigue me.”

“Yeah?” Y/n nods. “How so?”

“Well I don’t know.” Y/n shrugs, “In my experience, silent people are the most interesting.”

“Or the most deadly, depends on who you know.”

“Cmon, drop the hood nigga persona and let’s be besties for the rest of this trip.”

“Nah.”

“It’ll be fun!”

Miles rolls his eyes. “You are something else.”

“I know, you’ll get used to it eventually. Three months top.”

“You said for the rest of this trip.”

“Well obviously I lied.”

“She lied. Of course she did.” Miles spoke to himself. “We can’t just be civil and be quiet?”

“No, we have to be besties. It’s the only way or else I’ll cry and your mom will let my dad beat you up.”

“He can try, but I can fight.”

“Please!”

“No.”

“Please!”

“No.”

“Come onnnnn!!”

“No.”

“Miles!”

“Okay, mama. Okay. I’ll be your Bestie for the rest of the trip.”

“You won’t regret it! Okay, now let’s go have fun!”

Surprisingly, Miles let Y/n to lead him aimlessly around Disney Springs until they left. The following few days, he allowed her to continue dragging him around.

When it came time for everyone to return home, Y/n's family made the decision to take drop everyone else off at the airport (since the four of them actually lived in Florida and didn't need to leave the state).

This time, Y/n was the one insisting something. That something being walking them into the airport while Rio insisted that it was fine.

Y/n won, which meant her dad had also decided to walk them in just “to make sure Y/n won’t get lost.”

“So,” Y/n started, linking her pinky with Miles who surprisingly enough didn’t seem to have a problem with it, “How was it to be my Bestie for a week?”

Miles chuckled. “You’re not all that bad.”

“I’m not all that bad? Don’t you mean it was the best experience of your life and you can’t wait to see me again?”

“Nah, I ain’t say all that.”

“But you meant it. It’s okay to admit that I’m super funny and cool and pretty and you absolutely love me.”

Miles chuckled again, which was out of character for him.

Rio checked the time and spoke up

"Miles, dile adiós. Tenemos que irnos. Te esperaré allí.”

Miles nods and turns to face Y/n, but Rio quickly pushes him aside and embraces the girl.

“It was so nice to see you again, hermosa! We’ll have to keep better contact so we can see you and your family again, okay?”

“Okay, Mrs Morales! It was so nice to meet you in person and I really enjoyed your company this weekend. You’re so sweet!”

“No, you’re so sweet! Much love to you sweetie, we’ll plan something soon.” She kisses you on the cheek before pulling your father out of the way so you and Miles can have a moment.

“So,” Miles turns to you, but gets interrupted by you throwing your arms around him.

“I’m gonna miss you, bestie!”

Miles smiles down at her, finally wrapping his arms around her waist. “I’m gonna miss you too, mama.”

“See, I knew you loved me.”

Miles' eyesight travels from her lips to her eyes and back again. Naturally, Y/n can't keep quiet.

“You look like you want to kiss me.”

“Quiero besarte.”

“Do it, no balls.”

Miles chuckles before kissing Y/n twice on the lips and trying to lean in once again, but of course both of their parents broke up them up by clapping and raising their voices in protest.

Yet again, Y/n can’t keep quiet.

She looks up at Miles with hearts in her eyes. “…you taste like strawberries and rainbows.”

Miles rolls his eyes before pecking Y/n's lips once more, prompting yet another outburst from their parents.

"Cálmate, mami. Please!” Miles whined while Y/n shook her head at her father with wide eyes.

Y/n grinned as she pulled away from Miles and pulled her phone from her back pocket. “I don't have your number.

Miles took her phone and swiftly entered his number before handing it back to her and holding her hands in his, gently moving backward as he does so. "Let’s keep in touch, yeah?"

Y/n nods, saying bye to Miles as he pulls away and walks over to his mom, of course waving a goodbye to Y/n’s dad as well.

BONUS:

When he got home later and took his phone off of airplane mode, Miles felt his phone buzz in his pocket with a text from an unknown number who he could only assume was you..

Translations (may be inaccurate or in Spain Spanish btw, so please correct me if needed):

¿Querías que mintiera? - Did you want me to lie?

En realidad, mi nombre es Salvador. No Tito. - Actually, my name is Salvador. Not Tito.

¡Qué amoroso! - How sweet!

Sé amable y ayúdala con sus maletas - be kind and help her with her bags.

No necesita mi ayuda, mami. - She doesn’t need my help, mommy.

Vale, vale… - Okay, okay…

Miles, dile adiós. Tenemos que irnos. Te esperaré allí. - Miles, say goodbye. We have to go. I’ll wait for you over there.

Quiero besarte. - I want to kiss you.

Cálmate, mami - Calm down, mommy

© forever1kay 2023 - please don’t translate, convert, copy, paraphrase, repost, or alter any of my works without my permission.

[whumpback-wail]

06 -  Embrace

Trial by Fire (Wriothesley x Reader) - TW/CW in masterlist

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IMPORTANT NOTICE: Reminder that this fanfic contains dark and mature themes. The TW/CW are in the masterlist and are constantly updated as I add each chapter. Please reread the warnings, proceed only after you reread the warnings. If you don't like/can't handle the topics mentioned in the TW/CW, please DO NOT read. This work is 100000% fictional and any similarities to real life people and events are purely coincidental, and none of the characters (especially the villains) are real. Again, please DO NOT read if you are not certain you can handle these topics or are in a bad place mentally. Minors are strictly forbidden. I only create content, and I am not responsible for your personal content preference and moderation. If you think you will not like this story, please just scroll away. You have been warned.

The snow fell slowly, painting the streets of Fontaine white. Wriothesley's black jacket a stark contrast that stuck out against the white landscape as he briskly walked towards the hospital.

(y/n)...

The anger had slowly subsided, taking its place was a mix of guilt, worry, and something else he couldn't put a finger on. All he wanted that moment was just to hold her in his arms again, and let her feel safe.

Like muscle memory, he walked straight towards her room, but was stopped by a nurse.

“Your Grace, (y/n)’s room has been moved to a different one, a fire seemed to have started there but we managed to catch it before it caused too much damage.”

He cussed under his breath, “where’s (y/n)? Is she okay?”

The nurse nodded, “she’s alright, just a bit shaken. She told us fire suddenly burst out of the book by her nightstand just as she was reaching for it.”

And we’ve only got the information on vision injections today, what’s with this timing.

“Take me to her room.”

“Certainly, right this way, your Grace.”

The nurse, while explaining to him everything that happened, led him to a different floor from (y/n)’s previous room. He immediately knew which room (y/n) would be in once he spotted Navia’s 2 men in front of the door, who promptly stood up and gave him a salute, to which he nodded politely.

“Oh right,” Wriothesley turned to the nurse just as he was entering the room, “there are some new updates for everyone we rescued from that facility, one of Spina di Rosula’s men will be here soon with a copy of the files. Guys might need them for medical purposes.”

When he entered the room, his eyes immediately landed on (y/n), who he initially thought was asleep, until she opened her eyes. She must have noticed his grim expression, because she immediately sat up.

“Wriothesley? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, taking a seat next to her. He wanted to spill everything and tell her that he knew everything. The things they did in the facility, the experiments, her… assault. But will it cause her to have another panic attack? Does she even want to know, or does she want to just forget? Does she have any idea what happened and how she could set fire to her book? Does she know her vision is still with her even now?

He blinked back his tears, refusing to meet her eyes, but (y/n) could tell from the way he gripped her hand, it was something serious.

“Wriothesley, love, you can tell me,” (y/n) placed a hand on his cheek, to which he automatically leaned into. “I can tell you’re probably worried about my mental state, but hey my therapist told me I’m doing well!”

He recalled, clear as day, the number of times he had tried to bring up questions about what happened at the facility. (y/n) had only managed to explain bits and pieces of information, but had been only the things she knew, she did mention painful injections but didn’t know that it was her own vision that was injected into her. Those sessions had always ended with her crying and panicking. He didn’t want to put her through that.

He smiled bitterly, “I know you are… I just don’t think you’re ready for this.”

(y/n) swallowed, “is it… is it about me?”

Wriothesley nodded, eyes still averted.

(y/n) squeezed the hand that held hers, “I… I think I’m ready to know more.”

Wriothesley looked up, now his steely blue gaze met with her concerned yet nervous ones.

“Are you sure?” his thumb rubbed circles into the back of her hand.

(y/n) took a deep breath, “yeah, I’ll tell you if it gets too much.”

Wriothesley nodded, and told (y/n) everything he learned. The experiments, the vision injections- (y/n) was really shocked at this, although she had a suspicion about it when she saw her book catch fire so suddenly. As he spoke, Wriothesley kept a close eye on her expression and gestures. He’s been with her long enough to know if she’s uncomfortable, or if it gets too much for her. Whenever her breathing hitched, he would stop for a bit and rub her back until she gestured for him to continue.

“That was all we got from the notes left behind at their base,” Wriothesley eyed (y/n) carefully. She was playing with a loose thread poking off the end of her blanket, eyes distant and looking as if she’s processing all the information.

Wriothesley knew he had to keep going. “and now we have Dougier under our custody.”

At the mention of his name, (y/n) visibly tensed up, “oh…”

“I heard he assisted in some of the experi- procedures.”

(y/n) hesitated, “did you manage to get more information out of him? Like how do we reverse the vision injections? How do I control it?”

“Apparently only Arderne knows that bit of information,” Wriothesley sighed, shifting nervously, “and right now he’s still at large. I assure you we’ll get him, and that you’re safe here, okay?”

(y/n) nodded.

The room fell silent for a few tense moments. (y/n) picked up her blubberbeast plushie and held it to her face. It smells like Wriothesley, as he had sprayed his cologne on it. It brings a feeling of comfort to her, as if a reminder that she is never alone and that he’s with her and keeping her safe even when he’s not by her side.

Watching her, Wriothesley hesitated, but he had to- need to ask her.

“(y/n).”

Sensing his change of tone, (y/n) tensed, her hand stopping mid stroke down her plushie’s back. She turned to him.

He seemed to hesitate, looking down at her blanket instead of her face. The silent stretched for what felt like hours before he finally raised his gaze to meet her eyes.

“At the facility- no. uhh… How do I say this.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “How… How often do you throw up?”

(y/n) blinked, confused. “what?”

“Every morning these last few days, you wake up and rush straight to the bathroom. We did think it was a stomach bug, but when I asked the nurses for the diagnosis, it was as if they're hiding the information from me.”

She couldn’t breathe. It felt as if her blood was frozen but it burned at the same time. Fuck he knew. Wriothesley knew. He’s always been so observant how did she think she can even hide this from him?

“(y/n)... Are you hiding- uhh… Are-Are you pregnant?”

It was like a dam that burst. A sob escaped (y/n)’s lips, one that she tried to hold back but failed. That was confirmation enough for Wriothesley, who felt his own tears prickling behind his eyes. A split second later, (y/n) shot out of her bed, and with wobbly steps using her crutch, went straight to the bathroom. Wriothesley had gotten up to help, but was pushed away feebly. Quickly, she threw open the lid of the toilet and expelled the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

“(y/n)-”

“Don’t-” (y/n) sobbed, flushing the toilet and sinking down even lower onto the bathroom floor, “I don’t want you to see me like this. You shouldn’t have known about this.”

Wriothesley paused, then slowly took another step towards her, hands open as if trying to calm a scared animal. Before he had a chance to speak, (y/n) continued.

“I feel so dirty and gross. No matter how many times I showered and scrubbed myself I can still feel his hands.”

He took a step. “(y/n)...”

“I was going to take care of the abortion process myself, and just forget everything that happened. I didn’t want to tell you. I’m so sorry I couldn't tell you. I just feel so disgusting.”

Another step. “Darling please-”

“I don’t want you to look at me or think of me differently, I just want to put everything behind me, pretend none of that ever happened and just go back to how everything was.”

Wriothesley slowly sank to his knees beside (y/n), who scooted away from him, as if by reflex.

“Don’t touch me. I-I can’t… I know you’ll probably feel disgusted and hate me for it, for hiding it from you, for everything-”

On the contrary, seeing (y/n) like this only served as the final trigger that released his tears, which finally flowed freely down his cheeks. All he wanted to do was hold her and keep her safe, tell her he loves her and… She looked so broken he just wanted to hold her. Archons, please let me hold her.

“I’ll disappear from here if that’s what is best. Just say it. You don’t want me anymore-”

”(y/n),” his voice shook, “I’m so sorry that happened. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to get you sooner. No one deserved to go through what you did. Everyday I hated myself for it, I kept thinking I should have done this, or that. I should have gotten you sooner.”

(y/n) wiped her tears, only for it to be replaced by more. Her vision was blurry as she tried to look at him. Part of her was glad about it, as it probably hid the disgust in his eyes.

“I’m not disgusted by you, no, that was the furthest thing from my mind. (y/n) may I hold you? Please?”

(y/n) just kept sniffling and wiping her tears which seemed to flow endlessly, but made no move to scoot further away, so Wriothesley slowly approached her and took her hand in his. He placed a gentle kiss on it, which only made her cry even more.

“I’m sorry darling, I’m so, so sorry.”

He gathered her in his arms and held her tightly, as if afraid that she would disappear as soon as he let go.

(y/n)’s voice quivered as she asked “y-you don’t hate-”

“Sshhh…” Wriothesley placed a kiss on her forehead, his own tears fell off his cheeks and onto hers. “Something like this can never make me hate you, I promise. I understand why you wanted to hide it, but please know that you don’t have to. We’ll figure out our next step together okay?”

He didn’t know how long they both sat there on the bathroom floor, crying in each other’s embrace. It took a long while for (y/n)’s sobs and sniffles to die down. He kept one hand on her back, and the other stroke her hair, hoping to provide as much comfort as possible.

I love her.

“I wish you can see yourself through my eyes,” Wriothesley whispered in her ea, “it’s gonna be okay. I promise you, (y/n).”

His words were met with silence, as it has been the past few minutes.

“If nothing else I say sticks, at least please let this be the one thing you remember. It’s not your fault. I love you (y/n), you’re still the same old (y/n) I know and love, and Archons, no matter what happens I can’t imagine a life without you. I love you so much (y/n), none of this is your fault.”

He decided to wait a little longer before he noticed that her breathing was slower. Wriothesley peered at her face and saw that her eyes were closed.Tear tracks were still present on her cheeks, which he wiped away with his thumbs, before placing a gentle kiss on top of her head.

Slowly he shifted his position so that he was carrying her in a princess carry, with her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. He walked over to her bed and gently laid her down, tucking her in under the blanket, and placing her plushie right beside her.

For some time, he sat beside her, just admiring her features and tracing her cheeks all the way to her jaw with the back of his hand, light as a feather.

“We’ll get through this together, you and me. I promise you.”

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(っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ(ノ_&lt;;。)

If you think reading this chapter is hard, imagine writing it :”D emotional damage

Apologies for the late update, and perhaps a steady decline in writing quality (I’m no writer, just doing this for fun!) as I have been swamped with work this past week after I was down with a bad cold for quite a bit (there’s been a bug around, and so many people were sick :”D) I sincerely thank all of you for your continued support for this series, I love you guys. Hope you all stay safe and healthy!

I hope the next chapter won’t be as hard to write because hoooo BOYE. my bf had to comfort me after I finished writing this chapter.

Taglist: @almosteggs @quuela @tempest1art @yamanaka13-blog @arseneumbra @kimmeaahh @cottonfluffs @randomidk-123 @applejayee @keigo-hawks-takami-simp @mechanicalbeat1 @aribae14 @bforbiblio @supernerdycookietrashblrr @furblrwurblr @chifuyus-kitty @bunnibabe @the-real-fandom-person @idawnghoul

[wonwoonlight]

are you like me too? / kwon soonyoung

⇢ Soonyoung x fem!Reader

⇢ word count: 1.1k

⇢ angst // breakup(??)!au // comfort?

⇢ A/N: i wrote this in like, 30 minutes bc i was watching the epik high and hosh's performance in akmu's show and got a random burst of writing juice so. enjoy? i'm obsessed w the song and this particular part btw so it's definitely inspired by that. as always not proofread but do enjoy somehow lol

요즘 뭘 먹고 마시고 어떤 행복을 찾는지 what are you eating and drinking these days? what kid of happiness are you looking for? epik high ft. hoshi - screen time

[ - - - ]

Soonyoung has never felt so stupid.

But, then again, being drunk and regretful at the same time is an obvious recipe for disaster.

He doesn’t even usually get drunk, as he’s often already passed out before he gets to that point. But there’s something about tonight that compels him to keep on throwing back drinks over drinks even though Jihoon is already looking at him in worry and Chaeyoung is trying to stop him from getting more.

But of course, drunk Kwon Soonyoung is even more hard headed than normal Kwon Soonyoung and Jihoon eventually tells the younger girl to just stop trying because perhaps the guy needs it.

After all, Jihoon knows Soonyoung has been regretting his decision to end… whatever it is he had with a certain someone and he hasn’t had the chance to properly throw himself a pity party that it’s probably been eating him inside out for the past week.

“Why the fuck did I…” He mutters to himself, not even caring that two of his friends are there worried out of their minds. He eventually kicks them out an hour later because he can only handle so much pity being thrown his way in his own fucking house. 

He’s pitiful–pathetic, he knows, but it doesn’t make things any better and he does need this to (hopefully) make peace with whatever stupid decision he made last week to end things with you.

You’re not even his girlfriend–and whose fault is that?–he swallows another shot bitterly. And yet suddenly not having you any longer feels more painful than the last time he broke up with his ex-girlfriend.

Is it simply the alcohol, bubbling thoughts into his mind? Amplifying the pains even though it’s not really all that?

He glares at his phone, silent with nonexistent notifications from you. And then he looks at the mirror and glare at himself for pushing himself into such a situation.

Why did he think it was a good call to cut you off his life when it was him who talked to you first, asked for your number, begged you for a chance to go on dates, and now grovelling in his own room because he told you that he thinks it’s better to stop seeing each other when you’re not even yet in a relationship.

What was there to end, really?

A possibility, perhaps. 

Love that was possibly growing in your heart that he cruelly plucked when it hadn’t even bloomed.

Is that a good thing, then?

Would it hurt more for you if your feelings had grown deeper than what you currently harbour towards him?

He takes his phone and scrolls through your old texts once again. He can probably recite them in his sleep at this point, but he doesn’t care because he misses you and he wishes he still has you–your texts, your laughter, your touch, your voice–you. 

🧡: look at this dumb dog lmaoooo

how can u call him dumb :(

hes cute u meanie :(

🧡: //youre/// dumb🙄🙄

🧡: you know i dont mean it like that 😠😠😠😠

🧡: how dare you make me a villain against dogs!!!!

He takes a deep breath as he plays the video you sent for the nth time, still having it in him to smile at your small dog trying to jump into the sofa even though you had laid out a perfectly new dog stairs right next to it.

He presses his lips together at the sound of your laughter in the background, probably the only way he’s still able to hear it now. 

It’s only been a week. He knows it’s only been a fucking week. But he’s already wondering how you’re doing and who’s making you laugh, if you get to eat that dumpling that you’ve been wanting to try since last month, if you’re sending your dog videos to someone else now, if you’re still watching the drama that you were watching with him.

…If someone’s holding you because, maybe… and just maybe… you’re also as sad as he is.

He hopes you’re not though. He doesn’t wish this wrenching feeling in his chest upon you.

He hopes you don’t like him enough to be as sad as he is.

He hopes you don’t like him enough to drink yourself to sleep–to numb the pain and silence the voices inside your head.

Closing his eyes, he contemplates on calling you. But he remembers that it was him who rids himself of that choice.

“Hello?”

Fuck. He’s even imagining your voice now.

“Hello?” Your voice calls once again, and Soonyoung grips his phone tighter because it’s getting too real and perhaps it is time to stop drinking. “Soonyoung? Are you there? Are you okay?”

He jumps when he realises it’s actually you, panics when he realises he accidentally presses call when he’s too deep in his thoughts. For someone who contemplated on calling you just not too long ago, he’s suddenly hyper aware of the situation and no longer sure what to say.

He opens his mouth to say something, but a violent cough makes it out of his lips–enough for him to hit his chest because it feels like he’s about to vomit though there’s nothing in his throat.

He hears you panic from the other side, and as much as he wants to tell you not to worry and apologize, he couldn’t do it because his head is spinning and a part of him wants you to know that he’s hurting and he’s regretting. 

You already hang up once he’s calmed down.

And it’s thirty minutes later someone knocks on his door, his eyes widening in shock when he finds you on the other side, seemingly running out of your place in a hurry because you simply have a jacket over your pajamas. 

“Are you okay?” You look up in worry, your hand already busy trying to see his temperature. It’s when you realize that Soonyoung has been looking at you in silence that it finally hits you that you’re not supposed to do this.

That he… he breaks up with you before you even begin dating and you’re probably out of your fucking mind for thinking that you should rush to him the moment you think he might need help.

Mistaking his silence as resentment, you quickly retract your hand and apologize. But before you can even turn away, Soonyoung pulls you into his place and closes the door and then wraps his arms around you.

You can’t even begin to comprehend what’s happening, but when you feel his body shaking and hear him trying to hide his tears on your shoulder, you decide it doesn’t matter.

For whatever reason, Soonyoung is hurting.

Whether he’s hurting because of you or some other reason, he’s hurting and he’s looking for comfort in you if the way he holds you so tight that it hurts a little and the smell of alcohol on him says anything.

You hug him back and Soonyoung cries harder. 

[ - - - ]

©wonwoonlight – all rights reserved. I don’t allow any reposting, translation, and any other kind of redistribution of this fic. Please tell me if you’re aware of anyone doing this without my permission.

A/N: wow been so long since i wrote for him???

[kitkatscabinet]

Whumptober - 04: Kidnapped

John Price x gn! reader

Warnings: murder, mention of torture. Kind of strayed a little from the prompt I feel

It's pure luck that you notice, headphones catching on your laundry and pulling them from your ears just as the door bursts open. You know John isn't supposed to be home yet, not for a few more weeks. Freezing for a few seconds you strain your ears, already dialling John's number as you make out masculine voices from the foyer.

The confirmation that, yes, people have just broken into your house snaps your body into action. You lock the bathroom door from the inside then close it, running as quickly and quietly as you can to the bedroom.

The call goes to voicemail and you internally swear, dialling him once more. Again you don't get through and you try not to fume at John for working when you're about to be killed. There’s no point calling the police, they won’t arrive in time, you just want to hear your husband's voice one last time. 

You work your way through his coworker's numbers before surprisingly, it's Simon who answers. He doesn't even get a second to speak before you're hissing at him.

“There’s Russians in my house!” If your life weren’t in mortal peril you’d probably have laughed at the usually collected man’s brief moment of panic. “At least two” You’re already answering his unasked question, years of being John’s partner leaving you slightly more prepared than the average civilian. 

Whilst you're listening to Simon on the other hand of the line you've managed to rifle through the bedside drawer until you pull out a long serrated blade.

A knife meant you had to get close, but it was quiet, and far more readily available than the gun. Closing the drawer quietly, you rush back to the door. However, instead of closing it, you keep it open, hiding behind the wood and waiting for an opportunity.

You white knuckle the handle, trying to stop your body from shaking as the sound of the bathroom break-in attempt filters down the hallway.

You barely register that it’s John in your ear now over the blood roaring in your ears, a mix of adrenaline and terror leaving you shaking. He’s asking questions, barely concealed panic tinging his every word, but you’re far too scared to answer in case you’re heard. 

Heavy boots thud against the floor as an irritated voice filters through the hallway, one of the men is coming closer and it takes everything in you not to cry as John assures you that help is on the way and will be there soon. 

You both know that’s a lie.  

He’s out of the country, and even if his colleagues can contact the police it will likely be far too late. You want to tell him you love him, want to wax lyrical on how he’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to you. At this moment you have so many regrets, so many unvoiced thoughts that you can’t verbalise because it will give you away. 

The door you’re hiding behind creaks slightly as it’s pushed further open and silently you slide sideways to avoid acting as a human doorstop. You see a broad back, and in a stroke of luck, there’s no tactical gear to protect any vital points. Likely in an attempt at anonymity, but it doesn’t matter, you know to go for the throat. He walks towards the closed closet doors, smug triumph in his voice as he thinks he’s found you. 

You step towards him as quickly and quietly as possible. As you get within striking distance he turns, but unfortunately for him, you’ve already built up momentum and are witness to the surprise on his face as the serrated blade slices through the skin of his neck like butter. 

You know better than to stab, you don’t possess the strength, the downside though, is the torrential spray of blood that gushes from the violently slit throat. 

His blood covers you as the man makes guttural choking noises, unable to do anything else with his ruined vocal cords. John’s screaming on the other end of the phone, demanding to know what’s happened but you’ve frozen in shock. 

Those few frozen seconds prove to be your downfall, you’ve forgotten there are two assailants, and the other man has busted down the door of the bathroom and found it empty already. 

“Drop the knife!” It’s a command, and after looking up at the furious Russian man aiming a gun at you, it’s one you quickly follow. A whimper escapes you, frightened tears finally pouring down your cheeks as you await your death. 

John’s still begging you to answer him and with courage you didn't know you possessed you manage to whisper one last ‘I love you’ before your phone is grabbed and crushed beneath the man’s heel. 

“Sorry ‘bout this.” The man sneers and you barely have the time to think that he doesn’t look or sound very sorry before the butt of his gun meets your temple and the world goes black. 

From the moment Simon had burst into the room interrupting his meeting with Lawell, phone in hand and panic in his widened eyes John knew something was terribly, terribly wrong. 

He’s up from his chair so quickly that it falls over, and barking at Simon to update him in on the situation. The phone is snatched from his lieutenant's grip and placed against his ear as he tries to get you to respond. 

He hears your shaky breaths and some vaguely angry shouting in the background but you never respond. He hears your fear, hears the telltale gurgles of a dying man but his heart doesn’t stop until he hears those three words. 

There’s a resigned finality to them and Price has tears in his eyes as he repeats the words in a desperate chant, unable to do anything more than listen as you scream and the line goes dead. 

He must’ve blacked out temporarily after that, because when he came to a few seconds later Simon was holding him up and the man’s phone was shattered into pieces on the other side of the room. 

It’s not until hours later that he gets an update. The police had arrived to find a man dead on the carpet of your bedroom, throat violently slit, but no sign of you. 

The following week was torture. He barely ate and didn't sleep until his body physically gave out. The boys were worried, and on more than one occasion he’d snapped. If it wasn’t for Simon’s interference he might have even hit Soap simply for trying to get his captain to rest. 

It’s another week before they finally get any news, and it comes in the form of a bloodied box containing a USB. Immediately John knows what it is and even as his men beg for him not to watch, even as the horror floods his veins and the bile fills his mouth he can’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from the screen in front of him. 

You’re chained to a chair, soaking wet, bloody and shaking. He watches as a man runs a knife down your collarbone and you scream, crying and begging for John. 

It’s a warning. To back off, or you’ll die. 

The video cuts off with another one of your screams and a mocking accented voice letting John know that this is all his fault.