#it smells sweet?? it looks like chocolate? who DOES that????

[baby-tini]

Hi Tini, how are you? Are you sleeping well? You're posting so much (not that it's bad, I love reading your hcs, but be careful with overwork). I wanted to make a request 👉👈. I have the impression that Bonten!Mikey looks much thinner than the other versions of Mikey, so I have a hc that he doesn't eat well because of depression (almost an ED). So I wanted to see him and Kanto!Mikey (after all, Bonten is his future) with a gf who tries to make sure they have 3 meals a day, eat good portions... I really think that sharing a meal is something that is good for the body and the heart, so I wanted to see them like this.

Kanto!Mikey-

He understands that you mean this kind of treatment in a sweet way, but he's rather annoyed too tell you the truth, he's a busy man with a gang too run, he has a lot of things too do and when you're constantly nagging at him too eat and too sleep, he gets snappy, but he will appreciate it when he's in his office eating a hot, home-cooked meal by you, especially when you make either Taiyaki or Dorayaki, those never fail too put him in a better mood. He really likes when you massage his shoulders as he relaxes, he's severely tense and his muscles are just screaming for a break with all the fighting he does and all the stress he's under as a gang leader really doesn't help him a single bit, not at all, but when you're straddling his back and leaving kisses on his shoulders as you lather his skin in pretty smelling oils that he claims too hate so much. He won't eat three times a day, but he will eat twice and he expects that too be good enough for you because if it's good enough for him, he expects it too be good for you too. Although... if you bribe him with sweets, he's willing too... co-promise with you about the three meals a day thing. He does like too sit down and have a break, so when he does have time, he'll have you sit with him and eat as you ask him about his day, it's nice too just be able too sit with you as he relaxes, a comfortable silence settling as you think of other things too talk about with him. Watching as you tilt your head in contemplation for your next question. One way too get him too eat all the food you put on his plate is too get him engrossed in the tv, he literally won't pay attention to anything but the show that he's highly engrossed in. He won't even realise that all the food is gone. He's truly like a little puppy when he tilts his head at the empty plate.

Bonten!Mikey-

He'll only eat when you feed it to him, and you have too sit on his lap, or else he'll look you dead in the eye and pout like a child as he pushes the plate away from him. I also mean this quite literally as well, you'll have too pick up the utensil and feed him or else he'll just refuse and he holds out for quite a long time, going days without eating because you didn't give it to him. He is quite skinny, it's mostly because he doesn't have time too actually sit down and have a meal and other times, he just doesn't care too eat because he's too tired too pick up a fork- muchless make himself something too eat, so if you cook for him and feed him at that, he's already bought a ring. While he doesn't show you that he appreciates what you do, he does adore that you do it. For you too take time out of your day too pamper him with warm cooked meals, especially if it's food he's never had before, it feels like a more intimate amount of care for him, because while yes, kisses and hugs are nice and he adores when you do that for him, cooking him something when you know he doesn't have time just makes him feel a little more... seen. He will use this to his advantage though, getting you too do more things for him, as in, running him a bath, he really likes when you put bubbles in there as well, he prefers you get in with him, but he understands if you have stuff too do, although that won't stop his whining, not even slightly, or if you do the cute little thing and feed him chocolate strawberries while he bathes, he's always wanted you too do it, but he's never gonna ask so you better pick up on his lack of signals.

[sunjoys]

also one of the paint trays in college looked like itd been cement covered bc of how much grey paint we used yesterday and today and the day before so i tried to clean it and it just. it had a really thick skin you guys. i peeled it. and im going to take the chunk of skin as trophy i think

[moonlesslights]

Miguel O’hara in Love

Headcanons.

━━━━━━ ✿ 🕷️ ❀ ━━━━━

A/N: I was really looking forward to write this, because I just can’t get this whole idea out of my head.

Warnings: Basically none, a little bit of angst maybe?, some smut references and depictions. Miguel being Miguel. Kinda obsessive (?)

This text is based in that frase of Joe Goldberg: “There’s not a line, in the world, that I wouldn’t cross for you”. So be prepared.

Enjoy, my loves. Every comment or request is welcomed! 🤍

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Miguel was curious of you from the very moment he met you. Such a unique presence among all the others.

You had been bitten just a month ago. And it was hard for you. He saw you struggle, falling over and over again, training till exhaustion, fighting to be on the level of the others.

And the worst part of it all, was the guilt coming to attack him with every side eye Jessica gave to him. “If you weren’t going to help her, you should have let her alone.” The woman had whispered while both of them looked at you fighting to climb another building. Miguel knew she was right. He was the one who insisted in bringing you immediately after they found you (only a couple of days after the bite), even when Jessica insisted to give you time for you to figure it out alone. Miguel wasn’t having it, and now… “She’s been at it for the whole morning.” The woman pursed her lips, shaking her head.

What Jessica didn’t quite know was that Miguel hadn’t left you alone all this time… He wasn’t good at talking, that was true. He wasn’t good at showing his support with words, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care.

You let out a pained groan when you finally plop on the concrete of the building’s rooftop. Every single muscle of your body aches and you can fell your heart pounding harshly against your ribcage, making it feel like every breath that makes it to your lungs it’s just a mere miracle.

The weight of the presence of someone standing beside you forces you to blink out of your thoughts. Tiredly, you look up, finding Miguel's mask glaring back at you with a deep frown you can make out of the way his eyes curve.

He holds a white little package on his right and he hands it to you before finally sitting down without making a single sound. It had all started like a little game between the two of you: You pretend you don’t see his figure hovering above a building while you train, or his silhouette watching you getting back to The Society place safely. You also pretend you don’t know it’s him who leaves bandages and painkillers over your bed every day with a little chocolate next to it. And he pretends he doesn’t know that you know.

You cross your legs and smile when you open the small box on your hands, smelling the sweet scent of warm and fresh food. You also take notice of how he changed one of the things he brought you last time, you didn’t have the heart to tell him, but you were sure now he definitely noticed you didn’t like it.

“Eat.” He orders and you are too tired to remark his tone of voice with a roll of your eyes. So you nod, bringing a big spoonful of pasta and vegetables to your mouth, thanking him with a big smile. Smile he doesn’t return. He never does anyway. But now it’s not like always. He’s pissed. “When was the last time you ate?”

You look straight ahead, avoiding his gaze. You swallow, slowly, feeling his eyes burning on the side of your head.

“Mhm… Not long ago, no.” You answer, mumbling while you get more food into your mouth. Miguel raises an eyebrow.

“Training this much without any nutriments won’t do anything good for you…”

“Training this much won’t do anything anyway.” You sigh, keeping then the fork between your lips. Miguel wishes to say something but he can’t find the words, he can’t order his thoughts inside his head to place them on his tongue and tell you just how much you have improved since the first day, so he gladly receives your bright eyes turning to him when you seem to remember: “But I finally climbed this building, see? Without using any web, only my spider fingers.”

The man nods at you waving playfully at him. The determination in your eyes even when your whole body wanted to give up, even when you know you’re still not close to go on a mission by yourself (or with anyone else), even when you probably couldn’t even sleep fine because of the sore bruises, the determination in your eyes didn’t flatter.

That made him feel something deep is his hands, a tingle he couldn’t control. And he hated it.

“Tomorrow at seven.” He sentences, standing on his feet again.

You frown, raising big eyes at him. The brightness in them when the weight of his words hit you destabilizes him.

“For real?”

“Yes.” He looks away. “If I don’t train you you’re not getting anywhere.”

His comment goes unnoticed for the excitement running all along your body.

“Ok.” You nod, trying to look professional but failing miserably.

He grunts in response, soon jumping off of the building and losing among all of the city chaos. In some minutes he would be back at the Society lobby. You… An hour. Give or take.

Training with Miguel was nothing but… Hell.

No, it actually wasn’t. You expected you could say that to make people thing you were having it hard, but he insisted on starting with the basics… basics that you already felt like being good at.

Still, climbing had become easier within the first week of training with him. The tips and advices he insisted you to follow helped you thinking of it more like a game than a must do.

Swinging was still a tricky one. You used to lose your balance when the demanded velocity was too much. Panic rushed over you, feeling like you would crash against a window or a fucking person, or another spider doing their own training.

“Trust your senses.” Miguel said to you every time you fell, and every time you death glared at him for that. He didn’t have one of the most important senses for spider people and he still managed to be better than anyone you could have known. You had them all, and they all seemed to be a mess when you tried to use them.

Soon enough, Miguel learned about a way to motivate you: Rewards. Most of the time was food, some others, the promise of letting you rest for more that five minutes was enough. For a week now, it had been a little bit different.

History. You loved it. And you changed any delicious and tasty food for hours listening to Miguel explaining everything about the multiverse and the tangled webs between all of you. He had told you about his first travels to other Earths at least three times, but you couldn’t seem to get tired.

You might not tell him how much his voice soothes you after a long day out, but it wasn’t necessary, he could see it. On the other hand, he definitely would never tell you how he glanced at you, completely asleep after another history session, memorizing every breath, every mole and freckle, counting every single one of your eyelashes like the stars on the sky above you.

No. You would never find out about that.

Today was supposed to be just like any other day: quiet, calm and premeditated. Nothing out of the routine you and Miguel had adopted for the past four weeks.

But with you, things were never that easy. Boredom was a dangerous thing for you, Miguel had learned it by now. The hard way. If something became not enough exciting for your restless self, you would look for that spark of adrenaline at any cost. It was part of your determination. Heart of a lion. He knew that. But it didn’t change the fact he would have to save you from breaking a few bones every once in a while.

“I’m sorry” You would say after he dropped you on the safe floor again. He would turn to look at you, fire running up his veins. Every time he wanted to yell at you, to snap and tell you it was the last time you do something like that. And every time he would sigh, pressing both finger on the bridge of his nose, finally grunting in a low voice:

“Desobedeciste deliberadamente.” A month was enough for you to know exactly what those words meant.

“I know.”

“You could have hurt yourself.”

“I know…” Then the bright eyes. Always the bright eyes. “But I have to try, I can’t depend on you forever. Getting hurt it’s just part of the way.”

He hated you were right. He lost count of how many broken ribs he got on his first years, of how many scars he still hides under his suit. Eventually, you would have to learn to stand up even if you’re bleeding. Even if you’re dying.

He is not mad at you for disobeying, that’s bullshit. He admired that of you, actually. You don’t act by fear, you do not fear him. You follow your heart even when you know you could get in trouble for it. No, he’s mad because every time he catches you before you hit the ground, all he can think about is that there’s going to be a moment where he won’t be there to do it. And the sound of your body crashing against the concrete, of your pain, would follow him till the darkest moments of the night, where he curses the day you’ll scream his name and he will be too far away to hear it.

“I want to change my reward for today.” You smile at him, both of your hands behind your back, making him suspicious of your teasing voice.

“You’re not going anywhere with Hobie.” He responds in a neutral voice, starting to walk in front of you.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head before getting in front of him and starting to walk backwards so you could keep facing him.

“It’s not that.” You insist. He doesn’t answer and you know that’s his way of telling you to go on. You sigh. “I want to see you without your mask.”

That makes him stop dead on his tracks. He tilts his head, questioning you with curious eyes. That’s all you wanted? No, you wanted that? Why?

Were you really that bored?

“I feel like everyone here has seen you at least one time, except for me. And it’s not fair.” You got a point on that. He spends most of his time training you, you share almost every meal together, he’s the last person you usually talk everyday because you’re too tired to do anything other than going to your room and sleep. You have spent entire days with him, you have cried and made a mess of yourself in front of his presence, and you didn’t even know his face.

You can deny the sting of irritation you get every time Hobie or Gwen, or any other come talking about what they said during the meeting before a mission, meetings where, you had learnt, Miguel used to take off his mask. Peter told you it wasn’t that big of a deal. You wanted to punch him.

“If that’s what you want.” Miguel crosses his arms, tilting his head at you. “Now go tra-…”

You were gone before he could even finish his sentence. He sees your figure going around the building he chose for this particular session. Your swinging had gotten better over the last weeks and the confidence you had in yourself had also been improving, showing your true strength for him to see.

Jessica insisted on you being ready to train at the top levels with the others inside The Society training center, or at least to try. But Miguel profusely refused. He had designed many of the levels to train there, he knew the damage they could cause to someone not prepared to face them.

He blame it on his sense of responsibility over you the fact that he denied any attempt to put you on an unnecessary risk, but deep down, he knew that from the moment he stepped in front of you while you cried for that death he knew all too well now, and then observed how you wiped your tears and showed him your fists, ready to fight him despite everything… He was fucked.

You were the little thing he decided to protect even if it costed his life. The little thing that trusted his claws to hold at her, that puts its life on the line without a second thought. It is not his fault to have never experienced anything like this, to don’t know what to do, to act like a fool, to refuse to lose it… How they cannot understand?

“Done.” You jump in front of him, getting him out of his thoughts.

He looks up, seeing all of the targets on the building covered by a good layer of web. Your precision could be better, but you’re getting at it.

He sighs. He turns to face you completely before ordering his nanotechnology to uncover his face. Dark wavy hair falls onto his temples, brown skin glimmers under the heavy sun above you, full lips press against each other and two cold brown eyes glare down at you.

When you don’t say anything, he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Is this what you wanted? Are you happy now?”

You nod without waiting for another question.

“I just wanted to see your eyes.” You answer confident, smiling softly at him.

It is enough to say he never wore his mask on around you ever again.

Miguel O'Hara isn’t good in what emotion management respects.

He knows it, but he doesn’t have the time or care to try to do something about it.

It wasn’t that big of a deal…

Yeah, it wasn’t that big of a deal until one specially busy morning where he couldn’t make it to your first training, he went on looking for you… And he couldn’t find you.

He went to your room, your favorite places; he went looking all around the city, praying to find you just jumping above some buildings. But you were nowhere to be found. And it wasn’t until one Peter took mercy on him that pointed the worst place to be pointed: The training center.

With his heart going a thousand miles per hour, he started to look for you inside the complex. And when he caught a glimpse of Jessica looking up with a proud smile, he knew exactly where you were.

“She’s doing even better than I could’ve imagined. You’re a great mentor, Miguel.”

“Why is she here?” He answered immediately. Jess raised an eyebrow at him, confused by the uneasiness on his voice.

“Does that really matter? Look at her, Miguel!” She pointed at you with her extended hand. “Aren’t you proud of her?”

Of course he was. But what he couldn’t stand was someone else messing and taking choices over the one and only thing he has. So instead of answering her question, he sentenced: “Don’t ever get close to her again.”

“Miguel…”

“You can mess around with any other, but there is a fucking line, Jess. You chose yours, and I respect them. Don’t mess with mine.”

When he finally appeared in front of you, you smiled brightly at him. He looked like any other day, completely unfazed and with a calmed expression you were so used to see by now.

“Time to call it a day, don’t you think?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. You were sweating, you arms were trembling and you could barely control your breath by now, and still… You shook your head.

“I want to try this level one last time.” He was ready to talk you out of it but your pleading eyes made him look down at Jess, who, with a single movement, made him understand what she was talking about.

“Fine, but I’ll be with you every step of the way, got it?” His frustration made you giggle when you nodded.

You didn’t make it till the end of the level, but you tried, and that was all that mattered to you. To Miguel, having been able to take you to the wall before you crashed against a crystal under you was the main thing that mattered.

It had been a whole experience, but it remained like that. Enough time at least for him to push his way of react behind him. Until something made it snap again.

His eyes fly to all of the cameras in front of him, fixing his pupils in whatever screen he could catch a glimpse of your suit.

The threat they were expecting for your first mission ended up being a lot more aggressive and capable than hoped. You and your partner had already received a few good hits by the time Miguel reached for the Call button.

“How are you?” Is the first thing you hear when you press ‘answer’.

“Never better.” You reply, smiling at the interface of your pretty boss clenching his jaw.

“Need help?”

You immediately shake your head. “Not at all, we’re managing just fine.” Your figure distorts while you swing around. Heavy steps following you up close. “I gotta go, Miguel. See you back at home.”

“No, wai-…” He widens his eyes, trying to reach you before you end the call. His fists tighten and his eyes close, fighting to keep himself calm.

But our man can’t catch a break, because as soon as his breath starts to get back to its normal speed, a camera showing on one of the screens burst out with a big clatter, forcing his eyes open only to see his worst fear take form in front of him.

You were struggling against the anomaly, kicking your feet in the air and trying desperately to get his hands off your neck. Your partner was nowhere to be seen. You appear to lose you patience when you stop fighting and instead shoot webs to the creature’s eyes. The anomaly maddens, and throws you against the next building on the street.

Miguel's eyes follow your body across two cameras, watching in horror the blood dripping from your mouth when you cough after the blow, struggling to get on your feet again.

His hands move quicker than he can process, bringing all the information about the Earth you were on for him to see.

“Miguel.” Jessica calls from behind.

“Where the hell did you send her?” He whispers, reading the screen displayed. “I told you she wasn’t ready to go.”

“Miguel, look.” She insists, this time with a more demanding voice.

But the man can’t think of anything else more than you bleeding. Alone and injured.

“You said it was an easy one.” He growls in a low and dangerous voice.

“I’m…”

“I told you she wasn’t ready!” He snaps, looking back at her. His fangs pinch on his lower lip, so hard he can feel a drop of scarlet liquid running down his chin.

And it’s not until Jess takes a step back and Lyla calls his name that he realizes the way his claws had ripped the metal in front of him.

And then… A call.

He blinks out of his trance, looking up at the screen with your name on it. He hits ‘answer’ and your dirty suit and scratched face make an appearance.

His red eyes relax at the sight, returning to those soft brown irises and dark pleased pupils reserved only for you. He hides his fangs and his claws are no longer nowhere to see. Just you. It was just you again. And you were okay.

“Miguel, look!” You smile at him, pointing the camera on your watch for him to see your partner finishing to tie up the anomaly. “We got it!”

“Yeah, yeah, I see.” He can’t help but let out a small glimpse of a smile over his lips, nodding at your excitement.

“Oh, you’re smiling. Wait for me to come back, I wanna see it in person.” And just like that, his smile is gone.

“Don’t take any longer. Both of you, come back as soon as possible.”

And with that, the call is ended once again, leaving him in a room with heavy air and thick silence. He jumps off of the platform, still glaring at Jessica in silence.

“You know that wasn’t right.” She whispers. “The way you’re acting it isn’t right, Miguel.”

He shakes his head, slowing his movements until he remains still just a few feet away from the entrance.

“You don’t know what it’s like.” He murmurs.

“Oh, now I don’t know?!” She opens her mouth with indignation, but Miguel doesn’t alter.

“It’s not like that and you know it.” He hisses. “I have lost everything in this world. I am utterly alone. And even between us, there a strings that doesn’t tangle. You have a husband and a soon to come baby, a family that awaits for you at home, but what do I have, Jess?”

The woman, for the first time, remains silent.

“I have her. I only have her.” He says. “Not a single thing in this world belongs to me but her. Everything else have been taken away from me, everything I once had has disappeared: my job, my life, my normal life. If she’s ripped from my hands, I have nothing left. And I cannot keep fighting for a life I don’t want to live. This is not only for her, Jess. If I lose her, I will tear the universe apart with my own hands.”

A single shiver ran down her spine, watching Miguel exiting the complex to find you arriving almost at the same moment.

She watched how his threat takes meaning when you wrap your arms around him and his eyes brighten at the sound of your laugh.

She knows that if they ever were to lose that light, the whole multiverse would dim with them.

Miguel wanted to own you.

He wasn’t good at hiding it.

His hands would come to your hips, grabbing your tights or caressing your waist under your clothes.

Your scent would drive him into his animalistic side at every given moment. Until the point he would have to step meters away from you during the meetings in order to keep himself from the smell of your hair and your soft skin.

But when he didn’t keep himself from you, he would come from behind you, embracing you with his whole body. His face would bury in the curve of your neck, sending shivers with his tongue coming out, tracing a single line till reaching your ear, where he would whisper what he wants, where he would ask you to let him touch you.

When you say yes, he would drop his head and sink your fingers on your tender skin, pressing his hips against your body when you throw your head back, allowing him to do as he wished so with you, to mark you as his as many times as he wanted.

“Miguel…” You sigh this time, feeling his hands clinging at your suit, desperate to touch your skin instead.

He had just returned from a mission that had kept him away from you three days. You had imagined he would’ve returned tired and ready to sleep for fifteen hours, but instead he took you straight into his bedroom and pushed you against the wall, where he now holds you still with both of his arms.

“Take it off.” He whispers, tugging again at your suit. He was being nice this time, and you thank him internally for that. You don’t have the strength to ask Lyla for another suit.

You complain with a happy humming, letting your body fully exposed before him except for your panties still covering your ass and pussy.

The man switches off his own suit, letting you see up close the tent under his boxers. His fingers grasp at your thighs, forcing your legs open for him. Two of his digits run along your folds over your panties for around ten seconds before he decides to tore away your undergarment and place his hand back at your sex.

You would have complained about his behavior but his fingers pressing down on your clit rip only a moan out of your throat. He plays with your sensitive bundle until you’re wet and seconds away from an orgasm he pretends to steal away when he stops his movements.

“No, please…” You cry out, your legs threatening to give up.

“Shhh, patience, mi amor, I’m not done yet.” With one hand he pushes you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his neck for support before he starts eating you out like a starved man.

You tighten your tights around his head, almost screaming at your over sensitive pussy being stimulated even more, with his tongue pushing in and out for a while until he takes it to your clit again, sucking in, ripping another hard cry out of you. You are so close. And when he finally joins in two of his fingers to curve inside of you, it’s your end.

You scream his name, clenching around his digits, making him growl enough to feel the vibration running down your skin. He guides you through all of it until you finally seem to catch your breath again.

But then, he takes out his fingers and drops his boxes to the floor. His dick throbbed painfully, making him hiss when he stroke it a few times before pressing against you, chest to chest, and bottoming out all the way with a single thrust.

“Fuck, Miguel!” You throw your head back as he does the contrary, sinking his fangs into your skin, trying not to lose control.

“May I move?” He asks, breathing heavily on your skin.

You nod.

“Yes, yes, please move.” He groan in pleasure at your words, starting to move your hips in and down to match the rhythm of his.

You wrap your arms around his neck, moaning sweetly against his ear while he pick up the pace. Soon enough, only the sound of skin slapping on skin could be heard around you, with nothing but your moans and gasps indicating him where he had to thrust, and his deep growls showing you how close he was.

“Cum for me.” He says, pushing your back back to the wall with his hand around your neck, squeezing you under his fingers. “I wanna see you cum.” He demands, making of his pace nothing but a mess of thrusts.

He was so close, he just needed…

“Miguel!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head, letting out desperate whimpers when your legs tremble around him and your walls clench around his cock, sending him so high he has to bite you again to avoid a throaty moan escape from him.

You could barely begin to feel your toes again when you feel him tightening his grip around you before walking out to the bed.

He was ready for the next round.

…

Thank you so much for coming all this way!

PD: I know Miguel fangs have paralyzing venom but let’s just pretend he can choose when to use it and when don’t.

This might not be good but I had the idea of this thread of story and I just wanted to write it.

I hope you have at least enjoyed some of it.

Love y’all. Sending a lot of love. See ya. <3

PD2: I’m trying to work now on a Sub!Miguel thing. It may be still a couple of days from it, but I want to be good. And I haven’t decided if it would be just porn or porn with plot. So let me know!

PD3: I’ll be doing cleaning and correction between today and tomorrow.

[emmyrosee]

this is for the non curse bf!sukuna

when you first start going out he wouldn’t know what flowers to get you. he could ask you but- who tf asks their gf ‘hey what flowers do you like?’ he thinks that’s lame. so guy brings 5-6 diff flowers just for you.

can you imagine, him all tattooed and brooding buying you flowers in a pretty flower shop😭😭i’m crying :((((((

OKAY BUT IF HE DOES IT TO LIKE, ASK YOU TO BE HIS GF???

Like originally he was just going to take you out on a few dates, enjoy the company and yuuji and his Ma off his back, but that plan crumbled when he started to be the one to text you first. When he started to initiate dates. When he started to feel butterflies in his chest when you laughed.

Yuuji so graciously told him he had feelings and should cuff you before you get tired of him, and the idea swirls for a bit in Sukuna’s head before one night at four am, he storms into yuuji’s room and in a pure panic asks “how do I ask her out?”

Yuuji grumbles and throws a pillow at his brother, “flowers and candy, go back to bed.”

But Ryomen does anything but. Because there’s so many flowers and so many candies, how will he know which is your favorite? And as much as he’d love to ask you, it would ruin the surprise of being so excited at being his girlfriend that you’d have to say yes- a little manipulative, perhaps, but he’s not perfect despite what he says.

So he kinda goes… crazy.

He buys you all sorts of candy, everything from sour to chocolate, to even some cotton candy grapes and gummy bear watermelon and more candy flavored candy, all to put in a small bag that dangles from his thick wrist.

Next is the flower shop, and that’s even more stressful because how is he supposed to pick between roses and peonies and assorted and god knows what other breeds of flowers there are- one time, as a kid, he saw yuuji give a little boy a fistful of yellow dandelions, can’t he just do that?

According to the swipe of his credit card after picking out seven bouquets…. No. Apparently not.

He lugs everything out to his car with grunts of efforts, texting you telling you to be home because the smell of flowers is making him nauseous and the candy is probably melting in the warmth of the sun.

SENT please tell me you’re home?

Schnookums (god he needs to change that, why’d you ever put yourself as something so feral in his phone?) why, you coming over??

SENT no I’m making conversation

Tf

Of course that question means I’m coming over

Schnookums yayyyy okay 🥺💙

He scoffs before making a floor to your house, nerves making him speed a little too fast and almost run a few too many red lights, and he’s grateful that the cops he passed have mercy on him and let him get to your house without a ticket or handcuffs.

He gathers his bundle back in his arms and blindly makes his way up your driveway, using the sheer grace of the gods watching over him to not trip and crush everything under him. He sneezes god knows how many times, and once he’s finally at your door, he doesn’t know how long it takes him to knock successfully, but after 5 tries, he finally nails it.

And after a few short seconds, you open the door with a gasp of excitement. “What did you do!”

“I wasn’t- fuck!” The flowers start to slip as he tries to peer over them to look at you. You’re quick to make a move to help him catch them. “Fuck. God damn it. Ugh.” He clears his throat, “I wasn’t sure what flowers to get, so… I bought them all.”

“Whats in the bag?”

“An absolutely feral amount of sweets.”

You’re beaming at him, so excited between the gesture and seeing him that you immediately toss your arms around him, the crinkling of the bouquets being what snaps you back to life.

“Ah shit.”

“Sorry! Sorry!! I just… this is so sweet,” you say, smiling.

“Well, I uhh…. I wanted… you and I’ve been kinda… going out for a while….”

“Yeah?” You ask, and with the way your eyes widen and jaw slacks slightly, you know what he’s going to ask.

And he knows you’re going to make him do it.

“And I really… really have enjoyed it.” He takes a deep breath, “not sure why, but-“

“Shut up,” you snicker.

“But I kinda… want to do it. More. And… not let you do it with other people.”

“Okay,” you giggle.

“And I’m told the only way to do that is to make you my girlfr-“

“YES!” You scream, wrapping your arms around him again, and when he makes a noise of protest, you grab the flowers to put them on the ground, hugging him again tightly.

Tightly enough his organs hurt and his breath can’t get into his body, but this feels so right, so good and so comforting that he’d let you do it forever. He kisses your head and cradles it, letting the bag rest against your back.

“I can’t believe you went through all this trouble for me,” you murmur against him.

He chuckles, “don’t thank me too much yet. We still need to find vases for all of these because I’ll be damned if I let my kind gesture die within twelve hours.”

“I don’t even know if I own a vase.”

He stiffens, and you snicker in his grip.

“Well then I hope your don’t like your kitchen sink too much.”

[catiuskaa]

THIS ISN’T WHAT FRIENDS DO.

PAIRING! best friend!felix x reader

SUMMARY: you're friends- duh! best friends are close to each other, even if this could be... too close. still, no one can really blame you! that chocolate was far too good anyways.

REQUESTED! here by @lemon-va, who had a spicy kind of good idea, so, sorry it took so long, sweetness, but i hope u like it! <3

CW: convenient minsung strikes again. fluffy smut! mentions and use of aphrodisiac chocolate, use of petnames: princess, darling, pretty, oral sex (f & m rec.) + mentions of protected piv sex (as everyone should!), fluffy aftercare, and I think that's all!

WC: 3.1k

A/N! TYSM FOR THIS, COULD FINALLY FIND AN EXCUSE TO USE THEE DLC FELIX PIC, LMAO

[🔸☆🌆☆🔸]

He smells like home.

It’s the first time you find yourself reeling in the feeling of his hands, one around your waist, and how perfectly you fit cuddled against Felix’s chest, your eyes fixated on him as he focuses on the TV series you both were watching together.

You probably shouldn’t feel as giddy about it as you do. It’s definetely a more-than-friends action. And that’s not what Felix and you have.

He’s just your best friend.

He’s the type of friend that back hugs you, either if it’s because he wants a hug or because he ‘thought you looked like you needed one.’ The type of friend that has ultimately stopped using your name to talk to you, finding pet names under the rocks just to see you giggle. The type of friend that will always have a door or window open for you, having built a kind of trust that allows him to get closer and closer without any tuts, actions like tenderly wiping the excess of that brownie he gave you off the corner of your lip, tilting your chin with a soft touch of his fingers, then licking the chocolate off his thumb.

You can’t focus on the ways his eyes shine brighter, holding too many stars, having some of them pose as freckles on his skin. Can’t even start to listen to your friends or his flatmates when they start rambling about how his smile widens everytime you enter in a room, or how you’re the only one that has the power of making him pause his games, and even the online ones, which are impossible to pause, meaning he turns off league for you.

But, that just… no. You can’t allow yourself to hope so foolishly, right? It wouldn’t be fair. Not for you or him. Does that even make sense?

Before you spiral down to an unhealty amount of overthinking your feelings for him, he’s moving underneath you, his hands craddleing your face.

“You’re not paying attention, silly.” He teases with a cute grin, pausing the show. A thought flashes through your head, and you have to hold back to not wipe his smile off by planting your lips on his.

“Sorry,” you blush and smile sheepishly, but he brushes it off with another blinding smile of his, his eyes like crescent moons. “Feeling kind of sleepy,” you mumble softly.

He takes his phone from his back pocket, moving his hips with you still laying on him in a swift action that has you blushing even more. You mentally shake your head.

These thoughts needed to stop before your face reaches the the tomato-red level… meaning: now.

“It’s barely 6pm.” He’s just pointing it out, and then licking his lips, thinking about how to word what he wants to say. “You shouldn’t drive… It’s too dark. We can steal Seungmin’s pillow, cause he’s off at Hyunjin’s for tonight, and you can sleep in my room.”

Felix’s smile could make you do anything.

“Sure. That sounds nice.” You know you’re using the sleepyness to your advantage when you hide your head on the crook of his neck, moving and streching your body like a kitten, and you humm against his soft skin. “No need to steal Seungmin’s pillow. You’re my pillow now.”

And you both take it as a joke, but if he could just say that he wanted to, it would’ve never been a joke.

“C’mon, pretty.” He cutely ushers you off him, and starts heading to the kitchen, your footsteps following his, grabbing the almost-forgotten popcorn bowls, now empty.

He opens the fridge, grabbing water for the two of you as you leave the bowls in the sink. You sit on top of the counter with no thoughts behind, sipping the water calmly.

You never could’ve guessed that the silly little question that was going to come off of your lips would unexpectedly change the whole night.

A 180° spin, started by your sleepy voice pointing to a bowl with some kind of plastic paper over it.

“What’s that?” You asked softly.

Felix just shrugged, taking the bowl and quickly discarding the plastic.

“Looks like chocolate?” And he frowned, struggling to remember something. It felt important, and it kept itching the back of his mind. “I think that Minho and Han made it a bunch of hours ago.”

You smiled. “Then it must be good. Minho is one hell of a chef,” you laughed, and took a small piece from the several stack of round, coin-like bits.

Instinctively, Felix picked one too, taking a bite at the same time as you, and you both were surprised by its flavour.

“Shit, that’s better than I imagined,” you muttered, frowning at the chocolate piece in your hand, as if it could give you all the answers regarding its taste. “Didn’t expect it to be black chocolate.”

Felix snickered, picking another one. “You do look like a white chocolate enthusiast.”

You gasped, faking offense, a hand to your chest and the other in the bowl, picking another piece. “Excuse me?!” You couldn’t help but smile cheekily. “White chocolate isn’t even chocolate.”

Felix frowned in response, a goofy smile on his face. “Yes it is.” He pointed out, munching at his third or fourth piece. “That why it’s called white chocolate, baby.”

You shook your head vigorously, too invested in the silly discusion to process how that nickname made you feel. “But it doesn’t have actual chocolate on it! It’s just milk and sugar!” You argued as you munched on your sixth piece.

You were about to take another one, but his soft hand stopped you.

“Wait. How many did you take?” He shot a toothy grin at you.

You snorted.

“Shit.” You both said, sneakily smiling, almost like a pair of small children that got away with a lie.

Felix giggled with you, quickly putting back the plastic cover on the bowl and leaving it on its place. As if nothing had happen.

Little did you two know.

“I call dibs on showering first!” Felix cackled.

[🔸☆🌆☆🔸]

Different types of questions bursted in your mind. They should have been easy to answer.

Questions like why and how.

It wasn’t just something that could happen randomly. Not as intense as right now. Because your whole body was burning up like it had been lit up in fire, desperate for any kind of relief.

And so you just stood there, inside Felix’s shower, unable to get out and dress in some random pj’s he lend you because you were soaking wet.

Why were you this horny? No fucking idea.

How on Earth were you this horny? Still no fucking idea!

It could’ve been five or maybe ten minutes that you spent resting your back against the cold tiled wall in his shower, splashing cold water onto your red cheeks, hoping to cool off.

And you consider several options in that moment, only one seemingly effective: to run away, change your name and fly to Spain.

Because Felix had just knocked on the door.

“H-hey.” His tone of voice feels different. “Are you good in there?”

Felix, Felix, Felix.

You feel a pool of arousal forming in your lower belly.

You shake your head almost fiercely. What the fuck is happening? This is so weird. Could it be that you just fell asleep on Felix’s chest and this was all a really strange dream?

He knocks on the bathroom door again.

“D-darling?”

Fuck, shit, fuck.

“Yes?” You answer, a high-pitched tone that makes you cringe.

“I-I uh… I s-screwed up.”

His tone of voice feels weak and soft, almost traced with guilt.

You frown, taking the towel and surrounding your body with it, tucking it and making it stay on, like a robe.

Leaning closer to the door, you sigh softly. “What’s wrong, Lix?”

You could hear him breathing heavily behind the door. A merely two to five steps away.

“Can I… open the door?”

Your eyes widen at his words. And you know its not the most inteligent decision you could make right now, but you bite your lip and open the door.

“S-shit.” Felix mutters, his eyes glued to your body, his face and ears crimson red.

You force your eyes to look at his face, and not at the seemingly painful bulge on his pants.

“S-so…” he takes his hands to his forehead, and passes a hand through his hair. “The chocolate we had… that uh… Minho and Jisung made…”

You blink at him, trying to process his words when your dizzy and fuzzy brain is sending you other ideas.

“And I don’t know how much we actually had…” he’s stressed out, rubbing his eyes, grasping for any sort of remaining concentration that his body could have. "Normally one or two pieces could have a small effect, but still..."

“Wait. It can’t be…” you mumble, slowly arriving to a conclusion.

And then your eyes lock with his.

His pupils darken.

You wouldn’t know who got close first, but your feet step towards him like metal to a magnet.

It's only when his lips grace yours that you move apart and face down. You're flustered, you want to cry and this whole thing is a mess. But then felix gently grabs your chin. He lays his forehead on yours, before planting a loving kiss on it.

"We're gonna do something, ok?” He mutters gently, stroking your face, and your body threatens to melt under his touch. He goes inside his bathroom and picks two random scrunchies near the sink, tenderly taking your hand and settling one on your wrist. Your hands interlink, matching hairtie bands working like a highlight on this situation.

Your glazed eyes lock with his again.

"As long as this is on your wrist, there's no consequences." He takes your hand and kisses the back of it, making your body shiver. "And after this is over, we'll… go back." There's a weird shadow in his eyes when he finishes that sentence.

As if he didn't want to go back to just friends.

"Felix, I don't know if I..." You hesitate, because for god's sake, you love him. And spending the night with him would not help dimming those feelings. What if it hurt more? What if...?

"Please." He's begging, his lips barely hovering over yours, so kissable, so tempting.

And then you break.

Because for a moment you were looking at him, but now you're not... instead, you lean forward and you plant a soft kiss on his lips. And it's all you both need to unravel.

You link your arms around his head and pull him further towards you, locking your lips with him as he moans, now muffled by how you fiercely kiss him, and he pushes your body against the wall, your towel slipping downwards with ease.

Felix's eyes grow imposibly dark with lust, and he grunts at the sight of your curves. Even if you close your eyes due to the intensity of all this, you can still feel him everywhere, the fresh smell of shampoo lingering on his soft hair.

He kisses the air out of your lungs. "I knew you were beautiful." He bites you lower lip, his hands traveling down your body, allowing you to halfly grasp how down bad he seems. "I told you so."

And you can't fathom the fact that he can still tease you in situation like this, but your whole mind is dizzy, there is lava running through your body where Felix touches, and you can't help but moan at his words.

"F-felix." You whimper, only after he starts peppering kisses to your cheeks, your neck, and its when you feel he's slowly kneeling on the floor for you that your hands travel to the back of his head.

"F-fuck, darling." Felix pants heavily. "That sound." His kisses on your belly and thighs start to leave red marks behind. "It's going to kill me."

He’s crazy. And you’re crazy too, because even when his mouth is deep between your legs, his tongue running between your folds, and only loud, almost desperate moans echo around the room.

Fingers tickle up the back of your thighs, his hands hungrily pulling you to him, as he eats you out like he’s been craving for you for ages.

You’re a wreck. A writhing, moaning, shaking wreck, and you can only close your eyes tught and lean into the wall behind you for support, because if not, your legs would definetly give out.

Your hands sink into Felix’s hair for something to hold on to, and a satisfied groan rumbles in his throat, the butterflies on your stomach turning to beasts.

One of his hands moves from your legs, and you flutter your eyes open, finding his gorgeous face staring at you, your arousal all over his lips and chin. His beatiful brown eyes are locked into yours, watching you closely as he slides a finger inside.

It’s game over for you when he goes back with his mouth, your hands tugging harder at his hair as you whimper. “Felix…!”

You can’t even form the second sentece as you cum, everything tingling and throbbing when you moan loudly, pleasure and heat flooding your entire body.

Felix removes his finger and mouth, leaning back so he can look at you properly, wearing the most drunk and fucked-out expression you’ve ever seen as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, not once breaking eye contact.

Before either of you can even say anything, he stands back up again and kisses you. It’s not fierce or has any of the urgent feeling that it had last time, instead, it feels like a soft crash, messy, a kiss that allows you to taste yourself on him.

He turns the both of you and you find the bed sooner than expected, falling on top of him.

It’s before he can do anything that your hands travel under his sweatpants, and he trembles under your touch.

“Oh, darling...” Felix whimpers, melting to putty in your hands, both figurative and literally. “Y-yes, just like that.” He knows that you’ve ruined him for good, forgetting about the scrunchie on his wrist.

And you forget about it too, sinking him deep in your mouth.

It’s only when he starts tetiching and writhing that he stops you, and in that moment, your body conects back to your mind. You’ve never gone this far before, not with anyone.

“Felix.” You mutter, your voice hoarse. “I’ve… never… you know.”

His eyes grow wide.

“You’ve never had sex before?”

He’s not shaming you for it. He’s confused, because he had been jealous over your boyfriends who he thought got to have you, and he’s growing more aroused, because a small voice in his head is telling him that he can be your first.

“N-no…” he coos at you, kissing you softly.

But you know there’s no one you could trust with this more than him.

“Let me show you what you’ve been missing out on,” and your breathing turns even heavier. “Let me treat you like the princess you are.”

He takes out a condom from his drawer, swiftly rolling it down his length.

Felix kisses your cheeks, helping to ease the tension. Your hands link together, and even if you still have the scrunchie on your wrist, none of you realize that Felix’s scrunchie is no longer on his wrists, but had fallen down to the floor.

“It can hurt a little. But I’m here. It’ll be ok, darling.”

You nod, kissing him softly.

[🔸☆🌆☆🔸]

You can’t help but feel shy when he cleans you up.

It’s slightly awkward, because none of you know how whatever you were was going to work now.

You would never be able to forget this.

He sinks back into bed, his hand laying on your waist, and with a huff, his breathing settles, calming down.

You eyes are locked on his gorgeous face, and now that you’ve kissed him, you can’t help but peck him softly again.

The scrunchie in your wrist bothers you, and you throw it away.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, your hand traveling to his cheek, stroking it. “I love you.”

But his eyes flutter open, and he grins like a fool at you, launching his body back over yours.

He’s giggling like a madman, peppering kisses all over your face.

“Felix!” His hair tickles you, and you start to laugh too.

He stops, pinning your arms to the sides of your face, and kisses you lovingly.

“I love you too.”

It’s only after you both wake up, afterglow clear on both of your faces that when Minho and Jisung come back from the younger’s place, his eyes grow wide at both of you.

“You guys took what?!!”

~Kats, who now fears someone will find out that she googled how aphrodisiac chocolate works.

[luveline]

Hii, I absolutely love your Hotch fics in which he meets his adult daughter. Could we get one in which she is feeling down about something and he helps/reassures her?💕💕

It’s difficult to foster a relationship with someone when you don’t get to see them. Even harder when the relationship is with your father who didn’t know you existed for over two decades, and who works as a Special Agent in the FBI, spending half of his life in other states. 

Lately it feels impossible. 

He’s just never home. When he is, he can't make it to dinner. You start to feel exactly as you had before you knew him, alone again, working hard to keep up in class, drained from your part time job, and always tired. 

You should stay home and sleep, but tonight, your dad is free for dinner. 

You wait on the corner of the street in the golden light of the restaurant. It’s chilly out, and the sky is slowly darkening. You watch the road for the shape and bulk of Aaron’s SUV, relieved to see him on the way past. He parks in the parking lot, making a small stop into the trunk of the car before he makes his way toward you. 

He’s carrying a little white teddy bear wrapped in pink heart cellophane. 

You know it’s for you, but it’s still sweet enough to surprise you when he smiles at you and encourages it into your hands. “Hello,” he says, wrapping one arm around you quickly as he kisses your cheek. 

It’s always a shock, but never unwelcome. 

“Hi, Aaron.” 

“Let’s go in, yes?” he asks. “It’s too cold to stay out here. Were you waiting a long time?” 

You let him walk you to the entrance, where he gives his name to the hostess for the reservation, and together you follow her to a small table near a bay window. The trees outside are strung with tea lights. The restaurant smells like nutty chocolate ganache. You mentioned that you liked the desserts here the first time he brought you, and he’s continued to bring you here ever since. 

You are undoubtedly getting to know one another. You’ve met Haley three times, and Jack five. You had dinner together only two weeks ago where he tried to show you how to keep spaghetti on your fork while failing to manage it himself. He was sweet, and Aaron was really good with him. 

You’d been jealous. 

“What’s the bear for?” you ask. 

“I’m trying to buy your forgiveness. Is it working?” 

You laugh without thinking. “My forgiveness?” 

“Sometimes, when I don’t see Jack for a long time, he gets frosty with me. I know it’s poor parenting but I’ll bring home a souvenir in the hopes he won’t stay mad.” 

“This is a souvenir?” you ask. 

He sits with good posture, but his face is ducked apologetically. It’s a kind sort of look, like he really is sorry. “I think I owe you more than that.” 

This regret he’s expressed before. You truly believe that he wishes he could go back in time and be there for you, which might be why it aches to think about it in detail. He wanted to be the loving, doting father. He just didn’t get the chance. 

“It sort of… breaks my heart sometimes, when I see you,” you say. 

It’s a lot. You haven’t even ordered your drinks. 

“It does?” he asks gently. 

“I wish…” You bite the inside of your cheek. Shake your head when you can’t finish. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I think about it a lot. I resent your mother.” 

She’s your mother, but yes. “I do, too.” 

You listen to the clatter of the kitchen somewhere deep in the building and the indistinguishable chatter of other families and dates where they sit around you. Your hand closes tightly on a napkin. 

“Are you okay? You look tired, honey.” 

“Must be a Hotchner thing,” you say. 

He laughs like you haven’t just slighted him. “It definitely is. I’m getting the sense that you’re upset about more than your mother, though.” 

“How would you know?” you ask genuinely. 

It’s his party trick. You’re expecting a rundown: your hand moves a quarter inch to the left and shows your upset, or your nose twitches to betray your true feelings. But he doesn’t need to use his special set of agent skills on you tonight. 

“You won’t look at me for very long. It’s exactly like your brother.” 

You sniff ineffectually. “It is?” 

He looks especially solemn, then. “I wish we didn’t miss out on so much with each other, but I’m here now, if you want me. You can tell me what’s bothering you. I promise I’ll listen.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’ve always heard worse.” He manages a smile. “Not that what you’re feeling isn’t important.” 

“Well, I… it’s mostly the little things. You know school is hard.” 

“At GWU? It’s gruelling.” 

“It’s awful. I probably need a tutor.” You laugh. “Maybe. It’s not so bad, and once this year is over, I’m done, but I have my internship lined up for the summer, so I’m trying very hard to– to work as much as I can now. But working and studying all the time makes me tired.” Your cheeks heat at having spilled it all without finesse. “Sorry, I know you work twenty three hours a day.” 

“How many hours are you working a week?” he asks. 

“Uh, usually twenty-four. I try to do three shifts a week. Sometimes they want me after school, so it’s more like twenty-nine or thirty-four.” Or forty-four.

“And you’re studying–”

“Every spare minute.” 

He nods thoughtfully. “I’m sorry. It sounds hard…” 

“What?” you ask. 

“I’m just thinking about something.” He licks his lips. “And you’ve always worked? Since high school?” 

Your flush worsens. “Yeah. I have to pay for school somehow, and to eat.” You quieten. 

“What if you didn’t have to work, honey?” 

You shake your head vehemently. “Aaron.” 

“I’m serious. What if you didn’t have to do so much? You need time to do nothing. Overworking yourself will give you an ulcer, trust me, and that’s the last thing I want. I could–”

“I can’t take your money–”

“It’s not just my money. Does Jack ‘take’ my money?” 

“You signed up for Jack–”

“And I’m signed up for you. I want to be here for you, and this is what father’s do, okay? If they can, and I can.” 

“Unnecessary brag.” 

He ignores your joke. “Even if I could just pay for GWU. I know those textbooks are burning a hole in your pocket.” 

You refuse. Aaron promises to return to the subject when you aren’t exhausted, and maybe you’ll let him. It would be beautiful to wake up on a Saturday with nothing to do. 

It would be nice not to miss your dad. You’ve done it your whole life, but now he’s real, and he seems to really care about you. When he hugs you after he’s paid for dinner, you want to be allowed to cling, and, as he tightens his hold, you realise you are. 

“It’s so good to see you,” he says, rubbing your upper arm. 

“Yeah,” you mumble. 

“Can I see you tomorrow?” 

You ease back. “Really?” Because you hadn’t mentioned that you missed him, but he already knows.

He pats your arm. “You know I’d see you every day, if I could? I’ve missed out on enough already. We’ll take Jack to Olive Garden again and you can think a bit more on what I proposed.” 

“I can’t take your money,” you repeat quietly. 

“Not that, though you should. You can tell me anything, okay?” 

You breathe out as he steps away. “Okay.” 

He touches your cheek briefly. “Okay. I’m proud of you. You’re doing great.” 

“Thanks, Aaron.” 

“You’re welcome. Text me when you get home safe, all right?” 

You look at him for too long. “Thank you,” you say again, moving in for another hug. 

He props his head atop yours carefully. “You’re welcome, honey.” 

[natalievoncatte]

Kara knows, and that’s the problem.

She knows.

How does she know?

To put it simply, she’s Kryptonian. More specifically: a Kryptonian under a yellow sun, whose wavelengths of light bring forth her genetic heritage when she basks in its rays. If long lost Rao was once her father, Sol is her mother, raising her up to be all that she can be. A creation of a lost super-science, a power to rival gods, a force that made the Guardians tremble in their emerald tower.

Kara can see everything.

The world is alive with light. It cascades and bounces and caroms off of everything. More than that, Kara’s world is bathed in a thousand thousand hues the human eye will never know. When she looks at a person she can see the electrical conductivity of their skin and the heat bloom of their flesh and a myriad of other details, some of which other humans can pick up on a subconscious level, others that humans haven’t even discovered yet.

Kara can hear everything.

She can hear dog whistles and butterfly wings beating and the secret language of cats. She can hear the crackle of radio waves beating the atmosphere and the music of the spheres. She can memorize human heartbeats and pick out the slightest variation, the tiniest wobble that the owner of the heart never feels.

Kara can smell everything. She can sift between the scents of ingredients in her honey bun, detect poisons in a friend’s wine or flowers in a park half a state away. Sharks would be jealous of her. She can scent people but also their moods; fear smells horrific, sickly sweet and rotten. Joy smells hot and bold. When someone walks in the room, she can tell what they had for breakfast, smell of they’re sick, pick out the fragrances of their emotions.

Kara can feel everything. A touch can betray or affirm. To hear a heartbeat is one thing, to feel it another. Her fingertips can read the surface of another’s skin like braille and she can detect the slightest changes in temperature or perspiration, feel the thrum of contentment or fear in an embrace. Her touch is not dulled by her invulnerability. It as sensitive as her other senses.

Kara can remember everything. The day she stepped from her pod into the brilliant golden sunlight beneath a blue sky was the last time she would every forget; her now empowered brain can recall events in the finest detail, down to the soft timbre of another’s voice or the way her hair fell over her shoulder or the softness in her gaze. And so Kara’s memory is hers to be kept forever, never to lose the sight of her.

That is how Kara knows, and knowing that Lena Luthor loves her is a pain so terrible that she almost wishes she could be spared that pain. When Lena sees Kara, her heart leaps and her breath softens and she comes alive with light, bathed in an auric glow more beautiful than a red sunrise. Kara wishes that Lena could see herself as Kara sees her. Radiant, angelic, a little holy.

Lena loves Kara Danvers, the bumbling awkward nerdy shy girl from Vaguely Canada who brings her burgers and donuts and OTPs.

She doesn’t love Supergirl and Kara doesn’t think she could.

That’s how the torture happens. Kara’s infinite perception becomes a self-imposed exile. She sees and smells the way James lusts after Lena, right in front of her. Baffled, she listens to the calm in her heart when they kiss and once she wakes frantically in the night, reaching about to sift through the city soundscape when she hears Lena’s voice cry out, then the sound of Lena’s heart racing and other sounds, and not for the first time, she pleads with a god she doesn’t know to make her human and free her from this curse.

She seeks feeling of her own. It’s pleasant enough but it lacks something undefinable, like a pleasant chocolate cake that becomes unbearable because she could have had something far sweeter and more filling instead. He tries in a fumbling way but it’s to please his own ego more than sate her desire. Then one day he is gone and in his absence all Kara can feel is a dull numbness, a ragged wound with all the nerves scraped out so that only a dull absence has been left behind, leaving her broken in a way that cannot be defined much less repaired.

Kara cannot help but snap her attention to the sound of Lena growing agitated, no matter how distant or minor. She hears harsh words and the heavy thud of a limo door closing and hears the sharp intake of breath as James realizes the mistake he’s made, and though he is her friend and he matters to him she feels a feral, possessive joy that borders on the cruel. It is a hard feeling, a red feeling, a sharp smelling mean feeling that tastes cold on her tongue, this resentment of the man for having a pale shadow of what she could have but wouldn’t.

Lena loves Kara Danvers and Kara Danvers loves her back, but she can never know because to know she must know all of her. Know the Other, the Super, the Alien.

Kara is two people and one of those people has been, well, a bitch.

Because Kara feels spending else. A green feeling, a sick feeling, the feeling of blades flensing flesh from bone while her veins turn to glass and her body burns to ash, the shocking pain of a little piece of home. A little piece that Lena made and didn’t tell her, and Kara makes the worst mistake.

She stops being Supergirl and is just Kara Danvers in a colorful suit, angrily refusing to ask Lena the question: I love you, how could you do this to me?

She does love her. She loves her laugh and her secret smiles and how soft she looks when she’s deep in thought. She loves the pain in her, the mirror of her own. She cherishes it as she wants hers to be cherished, held close by someone who knows what it’s like to watch your world explode or slip beneath still waters and be gone forever. She knows what it’s like to wonder what could have been and know the price you paid for what you have now.

She wants Lena so terribly that she’d almost choose the pain of Kryptonite instead of an eternity of this longing. She needs her, craves her, thirsts for her.

One night Kara realizes what she’s been doomed to. Another will succeed where James failed, and Kara will be spared none of it, and it will endure forever. She will carry memories of Lena in another’s arms into the sun dies.

No.

“I don’t know why I agreed to this,” Lena says.

Kara -Supergirl- says nothing at first.

“I have to fly you.”

Lena nods. She’s doing this for Kara, because Kara asked. When Supergirl extends a hand, Lena takes it and Kara gently lifts her from the ground into a bridal carry, and they fly.

The trip takes nearly an hour. Kara can’t fly too fast or too high. Lena accepts it without complaint.

They land far north of National City, where the warmer climate yields to deciduous rainforest. Kara brings them down on a bare hilltop, an island in a vast ocean of trees. Nearby on a folding table is a basket. It might be important later or it might not. She might have a life of joy or she might spend the rest of forever in a wasteland, waking each day to grief.

There’s only one way to find out. Part of her, the part that hopes, the part that makes her Supergirl, believes in this, in herself, in this moment. She has to, because the chain of events that led her here, flung across endless space to stand in starlight with the most beautiful woman in this world, it demands that it happen. This is fate. It has to be.

Supergirl stands beside Lena. She raises an arm and points.

“There. Second star on the left, and straight on till morning.”

Lena quirks an eyebrow and looks at her.

“You brought me out here for this?”

“Do you see that red light?” Kara asks. “It’s very faint. I don’t know if a human can see it or not.”

“I just see stars.”

“It’s Rao, my sun. I can see him. If I had a powerful enough telescope, I could see it. Krypton. The explosion won’t be visible to Earth for a thousand years.”

Lena looks up, her features bathed in moonlight- alive with a chaotic explosion of hues she’ll never see. She blazes in the night, her eyes a kaleidoscope from which Kara can never truly look away. She’s a rainbow.

Kara falters. Whatever she does tonight, this is it. This is forever.

“You said Kara would meet me here,” Lena says.

“Wait here, please.”

Kara turns quickly and walks into the dark, cape spreading behind her. Once she’s out of sight, she changes without restraining her speed, and walks back to Lena in a hoodie and leggings, hair in a loose ponytail and the back of her neck and hands in her pockets.

She walks back to Lena and stands beside her.

“Hello, Kara.”

“Hi, Lena.”

There is a tense silence between them. Kara devours the moment, consumes it so it will live forever, just in case this is the last time she sees Lena.

“We’re not far from the reservoir,” says Lena. “Why did you ask Supergirl to bring us here?”

Kara swallows hard. “I realized something really important near here.”

Lena turns to her. “What was that?”

“That there was someone who mattered to me a lot, and that I was willing to risk a lot to protect her. There was a moment where I thought I was going to have time make a choice, you or the chemicals. I didn’t have to but I would have. I would have picked you. I will always pick you. I can’t help it.”

Lena is not stunned. Her heart doesn’t miss a beat, but Kara can sense her apprehension, her fear, and something deeper than that.

“You’re Supergirl.”

Kara lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and her legs wobble. There it is. It’s done. She’s free.

“I should have told you sooner.”

“You should have. You should have told me when we fought about the Kryptonite. I thought you would, hoped you would. I wanted you to so desperately, wanted you to trust me.”

Kara’s heart sinks.

“Wait, you knew? How?”

Lena laughs softly.

“The way you touch me. When you pick me up and carry me somewhere, you have this way about you. When I’m in your arms I feel like I’m the most precious thing in the world.”

“You are,” Kara says.

“That and you told me you flew to my office on a bus.”

Kara makes a small, choked sound.

“Oh.”

Lena scuffs the heel of her boot against the ground.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was scared. I thought if I did, you’d see it as a confrontation and feel threatened. What about you?”

“I’m Kara. Supergirl is something I do, not what I am. When I’m with you I’m just me. I lose that with everyone when they find out. Kara isn’t my secret identity. Supergirl is. I’m just me. I just want to be me, I need to be me, and when I’m with you I am most myself. It’s like laying down all my burdens.”

“Same,” Lena said, softly. “You’re the only one who doesn’t treat me like an extension of my brother.”

Kara sighed. “Should we talk about the Kryptonite?”

“No,” Lena says. “Fuck the Kryptonite. Why’d you bring me out here?”

“To tell you.”

“Great, you told me. What did you think would happen next?”

“I thought you’d be mad.”

Lena nods and seems to think about that for a moment. Her pulse has quickened and her jaw is tight.

“Let me ask you a different question. What did you want to happen?”

Kara swallowed hard. “What I wanted was… for us to make up. Be friends. Work it out. I don’t want to lose you.”

Lena turns and looks at her.

“Bullshit.”

Kara flinches.

“That’s bullshit, Kara, and we both know it. You’re a terrible liar. I wouldn’t be surprised if half the staff at CatCo know who you are. Don’t lie to me. Please. Give me the truth.”

Kara looks up briefly, past Lena. She sees that faint red glow and her heart swells in her chest.

“I love you. That’s the truth. I’ve been in love with you probably since our first lunch together and I want you so badly that I can’t breathe when I think about it. I know a dozen languages and half of them aren’t from Earth, and there aren’t enough words in all of them to tell you how kind and wonderful and beautiful you are. I love you so much that sometimes I think,” Kara fights the tightening of her throat, “I think I’m almost glad that I’m here and not back up there under that red glow. I don’t think I could choose a life without you.”

Lena lets out a long breath and Kara is bombarded with sensations. Lena’s pulse races and her shoulders relax and her skin blooms with an ethereal luminous riot of color.

“I’ll never lie to you again. I promise.”

Kara can taste everything.

Right now the only thing she can taste is Lena.

[ma1dita]

a wish your heart makes

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.4k

summary: (established relationship) The one where you share dreams, burn cookies, and it still reminds him of home. You try to do something nice for your boyfriend and everything goes wrong, or so you think. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: I thought about May Castellan, alone in her kitchen, baking cookies and making sandwiches for a son who would never come ho—OH FUCK OFF, UNCLE RICK. sidenote this haunted me.

(posted 1/26/24 unbetad)

—

Luke’s dreams were always different from yours. 

Both when he’s awake and holding your hand up until sleep finally rips him away from your earthly embrace, he’s always been certain of who he was and what he wants to achieve. To be a hero providing salvation for the needy, to be a half-blood son worth the love of a god, and to be a fierce soldier, leading his troop into battle for glory. These are the thoughts he routinely pounds into his brain, so much so that anyone who knows him knows of his aspirations.

You don’t think you’ve ever met anyone so insistent on wanting to be remembered. Luke wants to leave a legacy worth dying for, worth talking about for millenia to come. And your boy persists, despite the trials of life, the ignorance of his father, and the strings of the Fates.

Your dreams, however, were always much simpler. 

Cuddled under your covers and brushing your lips against Luke’s forehead to quell the growing unease that occupies his brain, you whisper what you deeply wish for.

“We’re getting old,” you mumble, and the breath of his laugh tickles your ear. He lazily runs his nose against the slope of your collarbone, sighing when he finally hears the steady beat of your chest, “We’ve definitely surpassed the average life expectancy of a typical demigod. Look at us…” he jests.

Your breath jumps in amusement as you feel his lips against your sternum, and then your boyfriend is smiling against your heart, using you for comfort as you both pass the time waiting for Hypnos to come calling.

“In a year, we’ll be nineteen…And I know you never wanted to stay here forever, so… What’s next?”

You hold in a bated breath, always unsure of where to place yourself in rank of his priorities. Who were you if not his biggest supporter?

Luke contemplates for a moment in the silence of your bedroom. It’s much easier to think and have more adult… conversations… without the many meddling children of cabin 11 always asking for one more lullaby, one more glass of water, and one more tuck-in goodnight. Here in the privacy of your room, he gets to be a boy void of his responsibilities besides hiding under his girlfriend’s duvet, giving her another shirt of his to wear, and kissing her until Apollo’s rays of light gently help you wake.

“You tell me, Trouble. What does the future have in store for us?”

Us.

He’s sweet to indulge in your fantasies like this, and you stroke your fingers through his curls as you speak, ‘I think it’d be nice to go to college. Made it this far, so maybe being normal won’t be so hard…”

A soft noise leaves his throat, urging you to continue as you bite your lip and smile.

“Maybe someday, we could get a house. One on top of a hill. I don’t need much, something like the Big House, but one we can call home.”

You can feel the teeth of his sleepy grin against your skin as he whispers the next words into your heart.

“We could do that. House with big bay windows, and the smell of my mom’s chocolate chip cookies in the air. Sounds nice, baby.”

And it does.

Luke’s eyes flutter shut shortly after, but your mind is awake with how to make the dream you now share a reality. Perhaps you couldn’t give him glory, or pray hard enough to Hermes so that he’d talk to his son, but you reckon that chocolate chip cookies would be easy enough. 

—

At least, it was supposed to be—until you set off the smoke alarm again.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” 

Clouds of grey are billowing from the communal kitchen oven after your multiple attempts of trying to get this right. The dryads had both partially given up on the havoc you wrecked upon their workspace as well as your increasing frustration towards them. It wasn’t their fault, you knew that—but as a perfectionist who followed the recipe to a t, how was it possible that everything was still going wrong? The first batch, you got too excited and mixed all the ingredients together, making them lumpy and inconsistent. The second batch was over-creamed, and you had to scrape them off the tray, and with this one… well you had the oven setting on a bit too high.

You sigh deeply, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes as you try to will away the mania creeping up your neck. Being the daughter of the god of insanity was hard, having to consistently control your emotions for the sake of others. Taking a shaky breath, you stare blankly at the darkened cookies, close to being burned to a crisp. The jingle of the windchime against the door rings across the room and you barely hear it until you feel Luke’s hands skate past your waist to go open a window.

“What’d you get into now, Trouble? Been looking for you,” he says, coughing lightly from the smoke.

You groan, trying to cover the mess behind you on the counter and accidentally catching your arm on the hot tray, making you flinch.

“Ow! Ugh, babe, you’re not supposed to be here yet! I thought you were still sparring…”

Your boyfriend approaches you, squeezing your arm to examine if you’ve gotten hurt and tugging you towards him.

“That was an hour ago—how long have you been here, baby?” Luke pulls you into his arms, placing a kiss on your warm wrist, instantly soothing your anxiety until you see his eyes meet your latest failure.

“You bake now?”

“Clearly not, Luke, I’m sorry…I tried but I kept getting it wrong and then I got mad at myself for fucking up something so…” your voice weakens, tears welling in your eyes again thinking you’ve disappointed him.

Luke steps away from you and towards the kitchen counter, warm cookies browned to a crisp. He reaches out to pick one up before you can stop him, crunching down on it, the bittersweet taste filling his mouth as he sniffs.

Just like his mother would make them, through her madness and all.

He’s transported back to a memory of a house with big bay windows, kind of like the one you two dreamt up last night, but he’s nine and sitting at the kitchen table drinking Kool-Aid while his mom makes peanut butter sandwiches. May Castellan forgets the cookies in the oven again, and for a moment, Luke forgets that the last time he saw his mother was a lifetime ago. 

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he feels your fingertips brushing away the saltwater from his cheeks.

“Didn’t mean to make you cry, angelface, I’m sorry…” you mumble, but stop speaking when you see him take another bite.

“They’re great.”

“What?”

He chomps on another singed cookie, his lips quirking into a soft smile. Luke’s not going to let you throw the rest of this batch out. Chuckling weakly, he lifts you onto the kitchen counter as he slots himself between your legs, rough hands patting your thighs.

“Well, they’re not great. But they’re perfect. Just the way I remember them,” he smiles, kissing the furrow in your brow. You don’t bother trying to comprehend his statement, happy that you didn’t mess up a memory he holds dear. 

Luke wonders if maybe he’s been blessed by his father after all, to have such extreme luck to exist at the same time as you. He doesn’t answer to the gods, to fate, but he does answer when you call his name, and settles into your arms. Love is an action after all, uncontained by just words, and he knows you tried your best, which makes it more than enough.

“She would’ve loved you, I’m sure of it,” he says rubbing his nose against yours before you can interject again, “I love you, so I know she would’ve too.”

Luke presses a tender kiss against the palm that caresses his jaw, before meeting you in the middle and finding your lips. It’s a dance you two have memorized, sweet and breathless as you meld both of your grins together. To him, you taste like chocolate chips and feel like home.

“I love you too, angelface. Almost burned the kitchen down for you,” your chuckle is cut off when he goes to press against your pout again hungrily, tracing patterns against the soft skin of your thighs as he just eats you up. The sound of your moans escapes between kisses as you wind your legs around his waist and it dampens the sound of the kitchen timer when it goes off. 

(You forcibly have to detach from Luke’s embrace, much to his displeasure so that you don’t burn the next batch too.)

—

"Your name is humming inside my chest. I think this is what it means to love. I think this is what it means to be living." -Emma Bleker

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[ncis-nerd]

The Case Of The Purring Kitten

grey novemeber au

older!nat x reader

Liho purred in your arms. Nuzzling her head against your ankle. The sweet little kitty of Natasha's had made her way into your room. Of course you were shocked when the cat just strolled in like this was a casual occurrence.

You didn't complain though, you loved that kitty. She smelled like Natasha and meant a lot that even her cat wanted to be around you. You stroked the cat as you continued to draw in your sketchbook. A purr escaped from Liho.

When you were close to finishing, you swapped your 2b pencil for a heavier pencil, Liho jumped out of your lap. Appear she was making her rounds because she just waltzed out of your room. That silly cat.

----☆-------☆-----☆----☆-----☆-------☆----

Later that day, there was a knock in your door. You had been locked up in your room all day. There was no meeting planned for today so who could it be? "Come in" you mumbled, wrapping up in your latest art project. Natasha made her way into your room. You jumped, not expecting it to be the the red-head, you immediately shut your notebook. Not wanting to ruin your surprise.

Natasha looked at you, furrowing her eyebrows. "Hiding something, hun?' She glared at you. You shook your head and looked at her with your doe eyes, knowing that would distract her. And it definitely did.

She loved seeing you so wide-eyed. So innocent. Nothing but love and pure thoughts behind those eyes. She cooed at you and caressed your back. "hi honey, you still here with me?" she gave you a gentle smile.

You nodded, "m' here natty. want you though" you mumbled, fidgeting with her hoodie drawstring. Her eyes widened at your statement. "What do you mean hun?" She looked at you, her cheeks turning red. Obviously not expecting your boldness. "wanna lay down in your lap, want you to hold me" you mumble.

She smiled at your innocent request. Of course that's what you meant, she mentally facepalmed herself. She gladly took up your offer, taking you into her lap. Your head laid in her lap, she stroked your hair as your eyes began to flutter. "go to sleep, angel." she whispered softly.

----☆-------☆-----☆----☆-----☆-------☆----

It was later that day, Natasha had retreated to her room, allowing you to get back to business. The so called business was the drawing you were working on earlier. You had finally finished and made your way to Natasha's room. Natasha is gonna love it!

You knocked her door and slipped the folded up drawing under her door before retreating to your room.

Natasha opened the door, she saw no one so she closed it. Huh that was odd, she thought. She felt something beneath her foot. It was a paper, she picked it up. As she unfolded it, a beautifully drawn picture of Liho appeared. Y/n. Of course, this was so kind. Her heart melted your generosity.

She wanted to make it up to you.

----☆-------☆-----☆----☆-----☆-------☆----

Your favorite activity with the russian is to drink hot chocolate and watch a movie wrapped up into her. She grabbed your favorite fluffy blanket of hers, a bunch of pillows, some a big bowl of popcorn and rich hot chocolate.

She opened up the TV to the streaming platform, leaving it for you to choose the movie. all that was left was to grab you. The older woman made her way to her room where you had been reading a novel you bought recently.

----☆-------☆-----☆----☆-----☆-------☆----

You were humming the tune of that new song by Taylor Swift when you heard a knock at your door. Who could that be? You assumed it would be the russian, especially after giving her your drawing earlier and fleeing. your stomach turned in knots, nervously you stood up to open the door.

You were greeted with the green-eyed spy giving you a warm smile. "Hey honey, I love the gift you gave me! As a thank you, I have a little surprise in the living room. Please join me?" She spoke softly, waiting for a response. You blushed, this was so kind of her. You didn't expect something in return. Just wanted to show how much you love her little fluff ball. "Natasha you didn't have too.. but I'm glad you like the drawing!" You said, shyly.

Natasha took your hand and led you to the living room where she had a pile of blankets- the kind you like, hot chocolate- your favorite, popcorn- you NEED popcorn whenever watching a movie. Your eyes started to tear up. "Natasha, wow... This is.. Amazing" you gasp.

The russian admired your reaction. You were adorable, her hand found it's place on your back and motioned for you to take a seat. "Wanted to show you how special you are to me, dove." She hummed, handing you the remote to pick out a movie.

----☆-------☆-----☆----☆-----☆-------☆----

taglist: @ssa-shaylam @madamevirgo

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗖𝗔𝗡 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗠𝗘?

　　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N is a worldwide famous singer, but her favorite thing in the world is hearing Chris singing just for her.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

When you are a world-famous singer who performs at least once a month, tours every year, models, acts, does interviews, is looked at everywhere by papparazzi and scouts, has articles published about you - often with false information -, it was safe to say that Y/N needed a place to rest, and hers was next to Chris.

Her resting with him was many things: spending hours marathoning mindless movies on the couch wrapped in a fluffy blanket and her boyfriend's arms, or when she could lay on Chris's lap and sink into a new book; sometimes it was when her house shared with the triplets smelled like her favorite cake, or when she spent the day making a new DIY that she found on tiktok...

Y/N was a girl with simple tastes, she didn't need much to be impressed, just a few minutes next to Chris were enough for her to feel like the luckiest girl in the world and finally be able to relax her body completely, getting rid of the adrenaline of having a life as an artist.

Don't get me wrong, Y/N loved her profession, since she was little her biggest dream was to be able to perform in front of a crowd and show her talent, and her fans provided that for her; seeing a sea of ​​people in front of her singing along to a song she composed made her see stars, the adrenaline that coursed through her veins when she picked up her pink microphone and could walk, dance, run and jump around the stage freely while singing the lyrics that referred to important moments in her life was incredible.

But nothing compared to waking up next to Chris in the morning and finding the sleepy face she loved so much along with his husky morning voice, or cooking homemade food for them and receiving a hug from behind that was always accompanied by "I love you so much". No moment in front of interviewers with overpriced magazines compared to when Chris won a round of one of his video games and got up from his chair with an excited scream, running over to where Y/N was and showering her with kisses.

Don't even remind me of the thousands of butterflies that flew together in Y/N's stomach when Chris wrote one of his love letters to her, delivering it along with several sweets and chocolates that she was addicted to - a weekly event in their lives.

Y/N's professional life was hectic and tiring, when she wasn't on a plane going from one country to another, she was in a studio recording a new song, or on a famous program answering very controversial questions.

So, when her busy day's were over and she could simply be Y/N, she would go straight into Chris's arms, where she knew she would receive comfort and security.

And that's exactly what she did today. After a turbulent day in the studio recording her new songs, making wrong high notes and having to redo them, crossing out written verses and rewriting them, the girl just wanted to get home and dive into her boyfriend's arms.

Y/N slowly closed the door to her shared room with Chris, her eyes wandering to the low lights and the almost imperceptible sound coming from the television, which was turned on in a random series.

Chris was already in bed dressed in his pajamas, the fluffy gray blanket covering his body up to his shoulders. He had his eyes almost closed from the intense tiredness, but he seemed to fight against it.

That was another thing that Y/N loved about Chris, regardless of what time she came home, he would always be waiting for her awake - more or less.

The girl walked with light steps to the nightstand on her side of the bed, taking the remote control and turning off the television, complete silence settling in the room.

"Hey, I didn't hear you coming." The brunette's sleepy voice caught Y/N's attention, who turned her face towards him, seeing him still lying in the same position, but with his blue eyes now very much open and looking at her. Probably having "woken up" due to the lack of the background sound.

"Hi my love, I just arrived. I'm just going to take a shower and come to bed with you." Y/N responded in a whisper.

"Okay." He said softly, looking at her from below with doe eyes.

Y/N leaned over the bed momentarily, sealing her lips over Chris' soft ones for a few seconds before getting up again and walking to the bathroom.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N opened the bathroom door, the steam from the hot shower escaping momentarily as she crossed to the bedroom, already in her pajamas, before closing it again.

She walked slowly to the bed, seeing Chris lying on his side and holding his phone with one of his hands, looking more awake than before - or trying to -, the screen brightness turned to a minimum as his thumb scrolled through his Instagram feed.

Chris lifted his head slightly when he heard her approaching, a lazy smile stretching across his face as he stretched slowly, locking the screen of his phone and briefly placing it on top of his bedside table. He opened his arms, waiting for his girlfriend to lay there.

Y/N returned the smile, lifting the gray blanket and laying down on her side of the bed, snuggling in before burying herself in Chris's arms. She ran her nose down his neck, breathing in the fresh scent of soap on his skin, caressing the sensitive spot with her lips.

His hands circled her shoulders, a sigh of pleasure escaping his lips at the comfort that the warmth post-bath of Y/N's body provided. The girl lifted her left hand, running it through Chris' hair, brushing his bangs out of his eyes.

"How was your day?" Chris asked softly a few seconds later, his blue eyes taking in his girl's tired features.

The deep sigh that escaped her mouth was answer enough for him: tiring.

"Did you eat anything? Are you hungry?" He continued, lifting his right hand - which was previously on Y/N's waist - and taking her left hand from his own hair, bringing it to his lips and sealing the soft skin for a few seconds, keeping his attention on her face.

"I had lunch, honey, I'm not hungry." She replied, a tired smile appearing on her lips at his affectionate gesture.

"Don't you want me to get you a snack? Lunch was many hours ago, kitten." Chris intertwined their fingers, only receiving a shake of her head.

"Can you sing f'me?" Y/N asked in a low, weak tone, her words barely noticeable.

A goofy smile grew on Chris's face, his eyes shining with excitement and love. He adored it when his singer girlfriend asked him to sing for her, it seemed too ironic to be true, but that was exactly what Y/N adored most.

"What do you want today? Rap, pop or rock?" He teased, a soft chuckle escaping Y/N's lips as she rolled her eyes, intertwining their legs together and scooting closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder, placing a little kiss on the region.

"Anything is fine, I just want to hear you sing." She asked, eager to listen her boy's soft voice against her ear.

"Y/N baby, I dedicate this one for you." He joked, a smile on his voice before he started to sing a song that he knew that was one of his girl's favorite. "Stay bugging out, days on end..." Chris began slowly, resting his chin on his girlfriend's head, his voice now sounding hoarse and low, intensifying Y/N's drowsiness. "Days on end."

Her eyes began to flutter closed, her heartbeat calming down as the weight of her shoulders seemed to drain down her body, her limbs relaxing completely.

"Play this often, don't take this shit too seriously." He continued gently, stroking Y/N's back in circles with his left hand, feeling the area lose its previous tension. "Know you get insecure, wish I had more wisdom for you..."

Y/N took a deep breath lightly, allowing her mind to drift off into the world of dreams, Chris's voice becoming muffled and almost null against her ears, but her brain seemed to still register it, using it as a personal tranquilizer.

"Sleep, babe." Chris whispered after singing some more lines, noticing her closed eyes and slightly open mouth.

He pressed his lips to the top of his girlfriend's head, before snuggling closer against her body, allowing himself to sleep, Y/N's slow breathing serving as his favorite lullaby.

[novemberheart]

{overview} you make some friends- and some not friends

{warnings} a/b/o dynamics, Simon being a grump, cursing, short chapter, mostly some “world-building”, Fem reader, Simon heavy chapter

Chapter 8 <- Chapter 9 -> Chapter 10

Simon woke you up the next morning, with a rough series of pats on your back. You groaned curling around yourself, the smell of leather slowly filling up your senses.

“This day isn't going to fuck itself,” Simon grumbled. Your eyes opened groggily, sending him a glare.

“What does that even mean?” you croaked, forcing yourself to sit up. Simon bit back a smile at the sight of your bedhead. He was able to snap a picture as you stared off into space. He sent it to Johnny, who quickly made it his lock screen.

“Up, pup,” he commanded, getting up himself. He moved with much more ease, only wincing as he took a few steps forward. “Got a busy day,” he added. By the time his words settled in your ears, he had already made his way into his bedroom.

“Busy day?” you questioned to yourself as you brushed your teeth. “Where are we going?” you asked. Simon was able to shower, shave, and get dressed by the time you finished brushing your teeth and picking out an outfit.

“Something the omega committee planned. Breakfast in the park or some shite like that. Captain wants you to go.” he explained.

“I don't want to.” you began to whine.

“Ah, ah, ah don't start pulling that shite with me, it's not gonna work. Put your stompers on, and let's go.” he growled. You straightened up, a little worried at his tone. Why did he sound so angry? Regardless, you quickly did as you were told, grabbing your shoes out of the closet and following wordlessly behind him.

You wanted to ask him more about this ‘breakfast in the park’ thing but you refrained. Nervousness began to eat at you, as it would for most people when you were being thrown into a group of people you have never met. The omegas there have probably already formed cliques. Not that you weren't used to being the new person. You didn't quite feel as though you could tell the alpha next to you about it.

At least it was a pretty sunny day out.

The walk wasn't very far, and it wasn't exactly a park. It was near where Simon took you for a walk. There was a bit of a crowd already, sitting down on their own blankets. Simon pulled out a blanket that was tucked under his arm. “Look at me,” he instructed. “No reason for you to be nervous, yeah? They're lucky to have you, I think, I mean I don't really know you that well.” he huffed, causing you to giggle. “See the group behind me?” he asked. You peeked around him.

“Pink blanket?” you hummed. He hummed back.

“You steer clear of ‘em. They get into trouble.” he told, and you nodded your head in understanding. “I'll be right over there havin’ a cig, you go be a good girl and save me a scone, yeah?” he patted you with the blanket. You took it from him, watching as he headed past you, without a glance over his shoulder. You rolled your eyes but felt much better about the situation. You guess Simon was much more tough love than you were used to. You stood for a moment surveying the area. People were cliqued up all right. You decided just to head in the opposite direction of the pink blanket gang.

You grabbed a plate off of one of the tables and decided on a cinnamon roll and a scone for Simon. You also grabbed a hot chocolate. You pulled off to the side eyeing the array of people. A particular group caught your eye. Two women and a man. They seemed approachable like they wouldn't shoot you down if you went up to them. Only one way to find out. You followed the natural path set up by blankets.

They stopped talking as you stood before them. “Hi.” You smiled, trying not to sound too shy. You introduced yourself in one breath waiting for them to make the next move.

“Hi, I'm Anais.” the one in the middle introduced herself first. She was sweet-looking, her glasses taking up most of her face and magnifying her eyes in an endearing way.

“I’m Jane.” the one to your right looked. She looked just as uncomfortable as you, her obsidian eyes darting around.

“Jonah.” the last one greeted. “You're welcome to join us.” he offered, which you quickly took them up on.

“The worst part is over.” Anais smiled, adjusting herself so she was sitting on her knees. “When did you get here?”

“Four days ago,” you replied.

“I got here six days ago,” Jane spoke up. Her voice was soft and brittle. You were tempted to give her a hug.

“Ah, so you know what it's like.” you smiled. “How long have you two been here?” you asked, spooning a piece of cinnamon roll into your mouth.

“Seven months,” Jonah answered.

“A little under three months for me,” Anais said.

“Nice. Do you like it here?” you questioned. You were hoping to get the dirt on people.

“Not really. You're lucky you're with big guy over there.” Anais said through bites of her toast. “Do you really have your own flat?” she questioned. Looks like you were going to be the one giving out dirt.

“Yeah it's pretty close to that. Where do you live?”

“In the barracks,” Anais said. “It's a room filled with bunk beds.”

“That sounds terrible.” you winced. “Do you get any privacy?”

“Not really. Unless it's during my heat.” she shrugged. “That's usually what happens when you're just bonded to an alpha, not a whole pack,” she explained. “I hope to get my pack one day. You're lucky you didn't have to work for yours.” she sighed. Your brows twitched.

“Anais,” Jonah whispered harshly. She just shrugged. How did she know anything about you and your pack? There was obviously something you weren't aware of.

“It's alright.” you soothed, giving Jonah a smile. “She’s technically right.” you sighed.

“I didn't mean it in a bad way.” Anais continued. “Just that you're lucky,” she added. You have been hearing that a lot lately.

“I know.” you agreed. You figured it was better to play along. Plus you seem to be lucky. “Did you get assigned here or?” you asked, turning over to Jane.

“Assigned.”

“Me too.” you replied.

“I know,” she whispered, causing you to furrow your brows again.

“Does everybody know?” you finally asked.

“You have been a hot topic,” Jonah admitted. You looked over your shoulder and suddenly became aware of the glances and peeks your way. Has everyone been staring at you this whole time? “Don't stress about it,” Jonah added.

“Yeah, you're literally a celebrity,” Anais added.

“I don't know if I want to be a celebrity.” you said finally.

“I’ll trade with you. I'm not really into guys, but I’d do it for fame.” Jonah chuckled, causing you all to laugh.

“I'll let you know after I finish my first week.” you snickered. An hour went by fairly fast. The group next to you joined into the conversation and soon you were a nice group of seven. Priya- she was the one you bonded to quickly. You started talking because she also was with a task force, her choice, on the sixth floor of your building.

She smelled like apples and lavender. Your mom smelled like lavender.

“How’d you do?” Simon asked. He stood up from the bench, eyeing you up and down. You certainly smelled happy. Your scent turned warm when you were happy. Your normal scent was freshly cut peaches paired with a chilled vanilla ice cream. Yet when you were happy it became a peach crumble straight out of the oven. He chewed the inside of his cheek, moving so he was upwind.

Before you had time to respond something caught his attention. “Come on, pup.” he urged. His hand rested on the back of your neck guiding you away from the scene. You had the sense of mind to not question him, which he was grateful for.

“Lieutenant Ghost.” A voice called from behind the two of you. He growled, stopping, but keeping a firm grip on you as he began to turn.

“Lieutenant Hale.” Simon mustered.

“So this must be the little lady I've been hearin’ so much about.” He was Southern, a charming drawl in his voice.

“She would be the one.” Simon affirmed. His hand reached down, grabbing your hip pulling you towards his side.

“Haven’t smelt something so sweet in a long time. You remind me of home.” Lieutenant Hale smiled at you. You remained straight-face, your omega beginning to feed off of the signals Simon was sending out. “How have you been, L.T.? Heard you took a nasty tumble.” Hale clicked his tongue.

“Fine.” Simon replied bluntly.

“Well, I would hope so. Medicine like that could heal any man.” Hale smirked, his eyes still locked on you.

“Got that right,” Simon said back. The men were keeping pleasantries- probably for your sake. Simon gave your hip a squeeze. “See you around, Hale.” The hand on the back of your neck returned, turning you away from the scene.

“I look forward to it. Both of you,” he added, tipping his head towards you. You remained silent. When you got far enough away you looked back over your shoulder. Two of the girls from the pink blanket rushed over to him, nuzzling their way under his arms.

His eyes were still on you.

“You did good, pup.” Simon complimented once you got away from the crowd.

“Thank you.”

It was two hours past your normal bedtime. The first two nights here you were so exhausted you fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. The third night you fell asleep on the couch with everyone.

It felt like the first night here.

You can still remember the last night you slept alone. It was the night before your mom left. The night she left you remember her sneaking her way into your bedroom, holding you as tight as she could. You could still feel her breath on your cheek as she breathed you in. You didn't question it at the time.

You wish you had.

That day your grandparents came down to help out and you slept in the guestroom with them- terrified of being left again. Then you got step-siblings, then roommates at the omega holding house.

You scrunched your eyes tightly.

Your room was too dark. Too quiet. Too cold. It had yet to be drenched in your scent, the room still smelling like paint and carpet cleaner. You wondered if Johnny or Kyle would mind you crashing their room. You're sure they wouldn't, but you didn't want to set yourself up for rejection. You could always crash on the couch with Simon. You didn't want him to think you were too needy.

You suddenly heard movement outside your door. You stilled, pulling the covers further up your body. Your door opened very hesitantly. John carefully poked his head in. You closed your eyes as much as you could to make it look realistic. He trained his eyes on your form for a moment before he quietly shut the door. The realization suddenly dawned on you.

He was checking on you.

You weren't exactly sure why he was checking on you. To see if you were still awake? To see if you were comfortable? Or maybe to make sure you hadn’t escaped.

Either way, it meant one thing:

You weren't alone.

Hi friends! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Chapter 10 will be in two days! See you then!

Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated🧡

[lizzieolseniskinda]

LOGAN HOWLETT - all too well

x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

REQUEST (requests open)

SUMMARY: you & logan were a thing, but in the end it all fell down

WORD COUNT: 3462 (excl. song lyrics)

GENRE: angsty

CONTENT WARNING: english is not my first language, lowercase ahead, this is my third story soooo..., ik ppl say that the scarf is a metaphor, but here it's just a scarf <3

italics is a flashback <3

NOT PROOFREAD

listen to 'all too well' (five minute version) from taylor swift for better experience <3.

‘i walked through the door with you

the air was cold

but something about it felt like home somehow

and i, left my scarf there at your sister's house

and you've still got it in your drawer even now'

the autumn cold bit at my cheeks as i stepped out of the car. i looked at the mansion before me, the x-mansion. the winter cold bit at my cheeks when i got out of the car to take out my bags. i walked towards the tall doors where logan was standing. he took my bags as i walked through the doors. the old wood creaked slightly under our weight.

almost immediately i felt the warmth of the school. i took off my scarf with my gloves and jacket, it smelt like hot chocolate in here. reminding me of the times i used to spend christmas with my parents waiting on my chocolate milk my mom used to make.

professor x welcomed me with a charming smile. his school was spacious yet cozy, every nook and wall filled with complementing wooden furniture. i placed my bags by the stairs as charles led us into the living area. the room smelled even more of cinnamon and chocolate.

time flew by in that living room, sounds of loud laughter and chatting filled the whole massion. it was times like these i appreciated the most. students came wandering inside and outside, either sitting with us for a while or getting some snacks for their small gathering. charles told me that it wasn't always he let teens walk freely after curfew, but when it's the day before Christmas, who is he to say no to them?

i leaned my head against logan's shoulder, my stomach feeling content and full after consuming one too many sweets and chocolates. he placed a hand on my leg and asked if i wanted to go upstairs to rest , and i nodded in reply and we excused ourselves. teens were scattered around the hallways as the both of us walked towards my bags.

we reached the top of the staircase, and logan led me into his room. once we reached his room, we sat on his bed, and i opened my bag. i fished out my pajamas and turned around to change. after completely changing, logan appeared behind me, wrapping his arms around me and placing soft, gentle kisses on my shoulder.

'oh, your sweet disposition

and my wide-eyed gaze

we're singing in the car, getting lost upstate

autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place

and i can picture it after all these days'

the trees blurred by as logan sped down the twisting country roads, the wold a swirl of amber, gold, and russet tones. my window was down, letting the crisp autumn air rush in, my hair was in braids so that no small strands would fly in my face. logan was driving with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping along to the rhythm of the music. i wasn't even sure if he knew where we were headed; we'd veered off course miles back, but neither of us seemed to mind.

"do you even know where we are?" i asked with a grin, my voice raised over the music.

he glanced over at me, his eyes had a sparkle i hadn't seen in so long, but had become so used to. "not a clue, but does it really matter?" he replied with a light hearted laugh.

i shook my head, it didn't. nothing mattered in that moment except the rush of the open road and the way we were singing along to the songs. his hoarse but sweet, wild but calm voice carried the melody effortlessly, even when my voice faltered.

leaves were spiralling down in slow, soothing cascades, covering the road in a blanket of color.

we didn't talk much during that drive, just let the music carry us further, winding through the countryside as if we could do this forever and never run out of road or gas. i could still picture that moment now, after all this time - the way he hummed along, the way the leaves fell like pieces of a story we didn't fully understand yet. but thinking back, it didn't matter, it used to feel right.

'and i know it's long gone and that magic's not here no more

and i might be okay but I'm not fine at all'

it had been months since i had last seen him. people assure me that time heals, that i'll be okay eventually, and maybe i will be. every day is the same; i get up, go to work, laugh when expected, smile when someone asks about my well-being. but it's the quiet moments of silence that the reality intrudes, like a wave crashing down upon me.

the happy feeling that once filled this place - has vanished, vanished for a while now. yet, there are moments, brief fragments of days, when i can still feel it - like a phantom limb. i find myself searching for you in a crowded place, then the realization dawns on me - he's not here anymore. and there's a big chance he won't be coming back to me.

'cause there we are again on that little town street

you almost ran the red 'cause you were lookin' over at me

wind in my hair, i was there

i remember it all too well'

it was a late afternoon, and the sun hung low in the sky, casting everything in a tender, golden light. the small town we'd stumbled upon felt like a picture-perfect scene from a postcard - quiet streets lined with old brick buildings, trees bending overhead, their leaves tinged with the fading colors of autumn. we had been driving for hours, with no real destination in mind, again.

he was driving with one hand resting casually on the wheel. his gaze would flick between the road and me. every time his eyes met mine, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and i couldn't help but smile back, even though i tried act like i didn't notice. the windows were down, allowing the wind to dance through his hair.

the car slowed as we came up to a small intersection, the kind that didn't seem to need stoplights because the whole town was quiet - almost no cars to be seen. a red light was hanging above the street. it was as if his foot hesitated on the brake as his gaze lingered on me for just a second too long. i stretched out my arm towards his face, and redirected his gaze. the way he looked at me, almost took my breath away. the way he looked at me like there was no one else in the world, made me wonder what went wrong.

"you almost ran it, logan," i scolded him, half-laughing, as the car jolted to a stop just in time.

he chuckled lightheartedly in response, his voice carrying a sound that i cherished so much. "my bad, bub." his eyes twinkled in the red light.

i rolled my eyes, my heartbeat quickened, and i couldn't help the warmth that spread through me. the traffic signal changed to green, and he drove through the intersection. the town went by in slow motion, passing an old diner, a corner bookstore, and a nearby park where a few kids were running through the puddles and leaves, their laughter echoing slightly down the streets.

'photo album on the counter

your cheeks were turning red

you used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin-sized bed

and your mother's telling stories 'bout you on the tee-ball team

you told me 'bout your past thinking your future was me'

a photo album was lying between us, logan was seated next to me in my classroom. i was trying to ignore how my past was so different from his, i had a better childhood than most of people here. logan's memories were scattered, and most of them too painful to keep.

logan let out a breath, "i don't have much to show from my past." his voice was low, there was a certain tension in the room, but not a negative one. "i don't have any pictures, or any family stories."

unconsciously, i started leaning in, he never liked to talk about his past. he kept it buried most of the time, but it felt different this time. his gaze flicked to the photo album for a moment, then back to me.

"i wasn't born as logan," he started, his jaw was clenching as he closed his mouth. "my real name was james howlett, back in the 1800s," he explained. i tried not to gasp, my boyfriend was almost 200 years old. "i grew up in canada, in a rich family. my father wasn't really my father, though," his voice dropped a bit. "i was just a kid when it happened. my actual father showed up, and it got violent, i killed him," he looked at me. "i didn't mean to, but after all that happened, i didn't know what to do. i was so lost."

"i've fought wars, and then i ended up in an experiment from the government. they took away what little i had left, wiped my memories, turned me into a weapon. i was barely human." he clenched his fists, knuckles whitening. "i spent years to figure it out, but never got anywhere close."

logan looked up, his eyes meeting with mine. "i didn't think i had a future, not until you. i don't know if i can ever escape what i was,' logan whispered hoarsely. "but when i think of the future, it's not as dark as it used to be, not when you're in it."

i swallowed hard, the weight of what he was saying pressed down on me. he wasn't talking about the past anymore - he was offering a piece of himself, a fragile piece.

'and i know it's long gone and there was nothing else I could do

and i forget about you long enough to forget why I needed to'

the mansion was buzzing with students talking and wandering around. i stood outside jean's classroom, watching through the gap of the door as he spoke with her. jean. the way he softened his voice when he talked to her, the way he stood just a little bit closer, like he was pulled towards her without even realizing it.

he used to look at me like that.

but it felt as if he was miles away, even though i was only a few steps from him. by now i should've gotten used to it, the way he kept slipping through my fingers, always just out of reach. but everytime it hit harder, that feeling of being so close and yet so far.

i knew that when i was with him, it was something real. we had something real. the late night talkes, our laughter echoing the hallways of the mansion. the way he used to look at me, with that glimmer in his eyes that made me believe we were something bigger. but then he got to know everyone better, and so she came along. jean, with her fiery red hair and pretty face, and suddenly, i wasn't enough for him.

'cause there we are again in the middle of the night

we're dancing 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light

down the stairs, i was there

i remember it all too well, yeah'

it was quite late - well past midnight - the mansion was quiet. the only light came from the soft, yellow glow of the refrigerator door we'd left open, casting shadows that extended across the kitchen floor and island. i couldn't remember what had brought us down there in the first place. perhaps it was his restless energy, or maybe it was mine. we found ourselves standing in the refrigerator light, laughing over some long-forgotten jest, our bare feet resting against the cool tiles.

he was leaning against the counter, arm crossed, a crooked smile on his face, gracing his features. it was a rare thing, that smile - so much gentler than the stern and hardened expression he typically wore in public.

out of the blue, he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards him, catching me off guard. i smiled softly, stumbling slightly into his chest as he started to spin me around. "what are you doing?" i asked, words bubbling out with a grin i couldn't keep off my face.

"dancin'," he smirked, his voice low and gravelly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

we swayed in the soft light, the gentle hum of the refrigerator the only sound in the room. our feet were moving in perfect sync with each other, our footsteps barely audible against the smooth surface of the kitchen floor. the world outside didn't matter in moments like these, it was just us, lost in something that felt so small yet so infinite at the same time.

'and maybe we got lost in translation

maybe i asked for too much

But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up

Running scared, I was there

I remember it all too well'

the moonlight streamed through the large windows in the hallway, casting long, eerie shadows that danced menacingly across the floor. the tension between logan and i had been building up for weeks, months even.

after what felt like an eternity, he finally walked in. his face was hard, guarded, a familiar look he always wore when he didn't want to deal with something. i could feel anger rising in my chest, yet underneath it all, there was another feeling, raw and painful.

"what's going on between you and jean?" my voice sharper than i meant it to be. he stopped in his tracks, eyebrows knitting together. "what're you talkin' about?" he said, his tone flat, evasive.

i sighed and pinched my nose, "you know what i'm talking about logan." he shook his head, denying everything i was saying.

"i see the way you look at her. like she's the only person in the room, the world even."

his fists clenched at his side, but he stayed silent. that only made it worse, made the hurt cut deeper. i could feel the tears threatening to fall down any minute, but i swallowed them down, refusing to show how much it hurt.

"maybe it was stupid to think we could ever be something more, that we might've had a chance. but, logan, whatever we had - it was real, good," my voice wavered. "you ruined it."

logan's eyes flicked to the floor, his jaw tight. "i didn't mean for it to happen like this, it's just you and me, remember?" he muttered, his voice was low, as if he was struggling to find the right words. "jean...she.. it's complicated, i didn't-"

"didn't what?" i interrupted, stepping closer towards him. "didn't mean to get lost in her? didn't mean to make me feel like i was never enough? ignoring me, the moment she stepped in the room?" i scoffed.

"i was there for you. i was there when you told me everything, when you let me in, and now you're throwing it all away for someone who doesn't even see you the way i do. she's with scott, logan!"

his eyes finally met mine, and for a split second, i though i saw something - a hint of regret, of the man i knew. but then his walls came back up, and he stepped away, creating a distance once again.

"i didn't tear it apart!" he growled, frustration simmering beneath his words. "it's not that simple."

"but it is," i whispered, my voice barely audible now. "it was simple, logan. you just don't want to see it."

once again, we stood there, inches apart but worlds away from each other. silence becoming suffocating, with all the thing that were said and unsaid, all the pieces of us that had shattered somewhere along the way. i wanted to reach out, but i couldn't, he was already gone.

'and you call me up again just to break me like a promise

so casually cruel in the name of being honest

i'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here

'cause i remember it all, all, all

too well'

it was cold and raining when i heard the phone ring - of course it was. the kind of rain that soaked through your clothes and settled deep into your skin. i sat on the edge of my couch, staring at the phone that hung on my wall, ringing. my stomach twisted in a familiar, painful knot. i knew that answering the phone would only hurt me even more, but i became so addicted to his voice, i couldn't stay away.

"logan," i said, keeping my voice firm and steady.

there was a pause on logan's end, i could hear his breath, heavy and uneven. my heart pounded in my chest, a small flicker of hope sparking against my better judgement.

“I wanted to talk,” logan said, his voice rough, strained. “About everything.” i let out a breath i was holding, letting his words sink in and physically melt from the sound of his voice.

my spine straightened, and that flicker of hope i'd been foolish enough to feel quickly died. a rustling sound came through from the other end. scott's voice came through the line, clear and hard.

"you need to stay away from jean," scott said without preamble, his tony cold. i shook my head, i did not need to hear this. this just made me question the fact that logan was still spending time with jean even more.

"she's not yours to run to whenever you feel like messing with someone's head, you've done enough damage."

i sighed, gripping the telephone tighter. i could hear logan protesting, but scott barely gave him a chance to talk. "and while you're at it, stay away from her too." scott's words hit like a slap to logan's face. "wh-"

"you know exactly who i'm talking about. you keep calling her, stringing her along whenever you can't figure out what you want, and i'm done watching from the sidelines. you don't get to hurt her anymore. so if you know what's good for you, you'll leave her alone," scott's voice was scarily calm.

i swallowed hard, i felt like i shouldn't be listening to this. scott's voice dropped lower, "and if you ever cared about her - about either of them - you won't call her again. don't show up. don't send a message. just let her be, logan." there was a long pause, and for a moment, i thought he'd hung up. "because if you keep calling her just to break her all over again, i'll make sure you never get the chance to do it again." i was surprised scott would talk for me like that. i never was really close with him.

"give me the phone, logan," and the line went dead.

i stood there, phone in my hand, i wanted to scream, cry, throw something, maybe even throw up. but i didn't, i just hung up the phone again and walked away.

'time won't fly, it's like i'm paralyzed by it,

i'd like to be my old self again.

but I'm still trying to find it.

after plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own.

now you mail back my things and i walk home alone,

but you keep my old scarf from that very first week.

'cause it reminds you of innocence,

and it smells like me.

you can't get rid of it,

'cause you remember it all too well, yeah'

it was a week that seemed to stretch on forever, time moving as slow as it could. i stood in my small home, staring at the box storm brought me that came from logan. it sat on the kitchen table. i already knew the contents of the box, my things, probably stuff i gave logan as well that he wouldn't want to keep anymore.

i opened the box, a couple of shirts, an old book i'd left in his room, little reminders of the nights we'd spend together. at the bottom of the box i found the scarf i'd wore when i first came to the mansion.

i held it up close, the soft fabric taking me back to that one autumn two years ago. back when it felt like we had all the time in the world.

but time made it so hard to forget. i'd tried so hard to go back to the person i used to be, before i met him - to the person who didn't get so wrapped up in boys.

'cause there we are again when i loved you so,

back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known.

it was rare, i was there, i remember it all too well.'

i remember it was a lazy summer afternoon when the air was thick with warmth and the world felt content. we were lying on the grass near the lake behind the mansion, the sun casted a golden light.

logan has his arms crossed behind his head, staring up at the sky, while i laid next to him, tracing invisible shapes in the clouds with my mind. i turned my head towards him.

"so, what do you want to do this summer?" i said with a small smile, my fingers playing with the blanket we put down on the grass. "what would you do if we could just... take off for a bit?"

logan tilted his head towards me, "summer?" he chuckled softly. "i don't really think that far ahead."

i nudged him with my elbow, "come on, logan. dream a little, where would you go?"

he sighed, glancing at the sky. "somewhere quiet," he said after a moment. "someplace where there's nothing but trees and mountains. no noise, no people."

i nodded in agreement. "i could get behind that idea, we could find a cabin somewhere, spend our days walking around or sitting by a fire at night."

"yeah," he mumbled. "maybe get off the grid for a while, forget about everything. i watched him, feeling the what the words settled between us like a promise.

“Yeah,” you agreed, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Maybe get off the grid for a while. Forget about everything.”

"i've never done that before," he said. "let myself think about things like that."

i looked over at him, "what do you mean?"

"something good," he replied, his gaze still fixed on the sky. "something that doesn't end in loss or running."

"you don't have to run anymore, logan," i said softly. "we could make those plans real. it would be just you and me."

he didn't respond right away, but i could see how his jaw clenched slightly. "it's just you and me," logan nodded.

i laid back down, my head resting against the grass. i closed my eyes, the warmth of the setting sun on my face.

'wind in my hair, you were there, you remember it all.

down the stairs, you were there, you remember it all.

it was rare, i was there, i remember it all too well.'

[talktonytome]

For @meibhin who requested bucktommy first christmas together, hope you like this take!

“So, what Christmas traditions did you have growing up?” Evan asks him. He’s already typing in the notes app of his phone and Tommy shakes his head fondly. It’s their first Christmas together and Evan’s determined to make it perfect. 

Tommy doesn’t tell him that as long as they get to be together, it will be perfect for him. He thinks back to the Christmases of his childhood, bouncing back and forth between his parents, getting stuck at the airport the one time and it being oddly happy, because at least there was no yelling and a nice family who got stuck in the storm adopted him for the night and gifted him an airplane book from the airport bookstore. 

He blows out a breath through his nose. “Holidays weren’t exactly… happy occasions growing up.” He shrugs trying to play it off, but Evan gives him a look that says he understands. There’s no pity or “I’m sorry”, just love and understanding. 

“Do you have any happy Christmas memories? What about your extended family, there must be something right?” 

Tommy thinks for a minute and is transported to holidays at his nonna’s. He hardly spent actual Christmas Day there, but his mom would take him for epifania. They’d get there the day before, along with all the cousins and everyone would find presents the next morning. He can still feel the warmth from those days and smell the aroma from his nonna’s kitchen, from her special sauce that she spent all day making. 

“Well, not Christmas, exactly,” he finally says. “But, we would go over to nonna’s for The Feast of Epiphany on January 6th- you know when the three wise men visited Jesus?”

Evan nods, waiting for him to continue, mouthing the words feast of epiphany as he taps on his phone.

“We’d get there the day before and the adults would prepare for La Befana. It’s this sort of folklore tradition of a benevolent witch, basically, who flies around January 5th and leaves presents and sweets for us to find the next day.” Tommy laughs, “I don’t wanna brag, but I usually got the best candy.” 

“Of course you did,” Evan grins. Who could look at that cute face and not give you the best? That sounds fun, by the way.” 

Tommy shrugs. “It was. After my parents divorced, we went over less and less and my extended family doesn’t live around here so I’m not sure if my cousins still do it for their children.”

Evan perks up with a wide smile on his face. He knows he’s not a golden retriever but god, sometimes he does these little things and it makes Tommy feel unbearably fond.

“Why don’t we do that for the kids here? Denny, Chris, Mara, Jee? We could get May and Harry to help, if they feel like they’re too old for it.” He claps his hands excitedly. “Oh! We can throw a sleepover, make s’mores and hot chocolate, watch movies..” He trails off, looking hesitantly at Tommy. “Sorry, I kinda got carried away, I mean we don’t have to— 

Tommy shushes him with the soft press of a finger to his lips. “I love it, baby. Let’s do it.”

Evan’s smile is bright and lovely as he leans into kiss him between his finger. “Yeah?”

“Heck yeah. We need to maintain our status as favorite uncles, after all,” Tommy grins. 

Evan’s Christmas playlist plays softly in the background, as Tommy thinks about this and many holidays to come with their family, the food and joy and maybe even the smells of his own tomato sauce permeating their home. He can’t wait. 

[ackermai07]

hi there !! i hope you're having a great day so far ^^

i wanted to request the three musketeers (katsuki, izuku, shoto) that give prince/ss treatment to reader ! like the reader is just so tooth-rotting sweet that the boys can't help but treat reader that way ฅʕ◍·̀·́◍ʔฅ

you are so free to ignore this if its not up to your taste ^^ thank you in advance !! 💌🍰

girl you're crazy if you think this isn't up to my taste, you literally blessed me with this! Anyways I hope you have fun reading, enjoy!

𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: Todoroki, Bakugou, Midoriya, fem!reader

𝗪𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: headcanon, fluff!

Don't repost!

The one thing we all agree on.

He'll cook for you.

No one argues with this; he's literally your personal chef.

He'll always make sure you eat well, whether you're a big eater or not.

This damn guy will literally stuff your stomach and cook for you anytime.

You can wake him up even at 2 a.m., and he won't mind, like:

"Hey, Katsu... I'm feeling kinda hungry... so-"

"Shut up, I already know."

And boom, he'll get up to cook a delicious meal for you and make sure you go to sleep feeling full.

He also loves styling your hair, no matter the type.

Straight, wavy, curly, it doesn't matter.

Just tell him how you want your hair, and he'll do it professionally.

He does most of the chores for you, like cooking, washing dishes, doing laundry, etc.

He absolutely hates seeing you tired or exhausted; he sees himself strong enough to do everything.

"You weren't created for exhaustion, not even your beautiful ass deserves to be tired from sitting."

Another reason he always holds you in his arms when you're alone together.

He always brings snacks for you at school.

At the end of each class, he turns around to give you candy or chocolate to keep you energized.

(He completely refuses to admit he brought them for you, always saying he got them by chance.)

When you're sitting in the dorm with others, he lets you rest your head on his shoulder if you're tired.

He absolutely doesn't let you go downstairs; he always carries you bridal style while going down while you're in his arms.

His excuse is that you're too foolish and will definitely trip and fall and hurt yourself.

(He loves you dearly and worries about you like crazy.)

Did I mention he's your guard dog?

Wherever you are, he walks behind you and gives death glares to anyone who dares to stare at you.

He also makes sure every day that he's the first person to say good morning or goodnight to you, whether in person or through messages.

He's not a big person with words, but he makes sure to say "I love you" enough times because he knows it makes you happy.

Believe me, he's just there for your happiness (I would die for this man).

This boy is the epitome of sweetness.

He's not just a green flag, he's the whole forest.

One thing I'm sure of is that he'll take notes for you during classes.

Even if you've already taken your own notes, he doesn't mind.

He still brings your notebooks and edits your notes to make them look like his own.

If you ask him why he does this, he simply replies:

"Just to ensure our information is the same so we don't have any problems when we study together."

He just loves being the reason behind your intellectual growth and knowing that he's helping you.

Every night, literally every night, he braids your hair.

Because he simply read that braiding hair before bed helps keep it healthy.

(He loves touching your hair and smelling its scent.)

Speaking of nighttime, he takes you for walks at night when everyone else is asleep and lies on the grass to watch the sky just because you told him you love seeing the stars.

He's literally the kind of gentleman who lays his jacket over a puddle of water for you to walk on so you don't get wet.

He has a sixth sense about you, so for example, whenever something bad happens to you, he's already there to fix it.

He's 100% ready to defend you against anyone and doesn't feel embarrassed to stand up to them either.

He carries your bag for you on the way to school and back to the dorm, insisting on it even when you say it's okay.

He loves sharing his food with you; he always does.

No matter what it is, he always makes sure you take at least a bite of it.

"I don't taste the food's flavor until I share it with you."

He always keeps your hands intertwined and makes sure you're close to him, especially in crowds.

Every day, he makes sure to kiss you on the cheek and tell you how perfect you are, how lucky he is to have you, and how much he loves you.

This guy is literally like a character from books.

He has a top-notch degree in princess treatment.

He buys you anything you want, no matter what.

Even if it's a car plated with gold, he'll always fulfill your desires.

He flirts with you, but in poetic ways.

For example, he reads a love quote or a poem and makes sure to dedicate it to you.

Either he writes it for you on a paper and places it on your desk in your room before you wake up, or he whispers it in your ear just to drive you crazy.

He loves seeing you shy and flustered.

He also buys you books, a lot of them.

The reason for that is your talk about a story or a novel.

Be sure that by tomorrow he'll present you with the entire book series along with a red rose.

"Shoto! You didn't have to do that!"

"If my girl desires something, she gets it."

(Help me... I'm melting while writing this)

He lets you do anything to him literally.

Braiding his hair, putting makeup on him, dressing him up as you wish... etc.

Just say the word, and he's like, "Yes, ma'am"

(Once you put your daily makeup on him, and literally you cried because he looked more beautiful than you by miles.)

This man is literally carrying your bags when he takes you shopping.

And he doesn't complain; it gives him a sense that he's your strong man.

He also allows you to try makeup on the back of his hand.

(He's as pale as hell.)

He carries you on his back if you feel tired from walking.

Or in other words, if he feels it, which means he always carries you on his back.

So you won't tire from something as silly as walking.

He knows that everyone is looking at both of you, but does he care? Of course not.

(I feel like he's read "The Art of Indifference" at least 100 times.)

He's the kind of guy who allows you to wear anything you want.

You might come to him not sure about your clothes, and he simply shrugs in indifference.

"Wear whatever you want; I can fight."

(But not too revealing because you won't get away with it.)

One of his greatest features is that he uses his quirk to either warm you up or cool you down according to the weather.

He always gives you his jacket even without you asking because he knows that his scent calms you down and also ensures that you're warm.

Like the others, he makes sure you eat well and goes crazy if he knows you haven't.

(I think this is an Asian thing...)

This might seem gross, but on the contrary, it's not the case for him, but he allows you to spit out the food you didn't like on his hand.

He tells you to do it in the most poetic expression ever.

He hugs you a lot, first because he loves being close to you and secondly to stick his scent to you, so people can smell you and know that you're his

(he has a special scent so..)

(I've written a lot for him, I know, and I'm sorry, but I love him so much that I couldn't stop!!)

I hope you had fun reading! Please feel free to request more whenever you like!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝.

[transmascsteveharrington]

Despite being a hopeless romantic omega Steve thinks that the whole true mates thing is bullshit. Your true mate is supposed to smell like home. But Steve can't imagine anyone ever smelling like the Harrington residence. The big, empty house reeks of stale air and cleaning supplies, artificial and chemical. Acrid and acidic almost reminiscent of the way an omega in distress smells. But it's just bleach keeping the unused kitchen counters pristine and the cold hallway tiles spotless. Steve really can't imagine anyone's scent smelling like that. Scent blockers are mandatory at school and Steve doesn't really interact with enough adults to be 100% certain but from the few scents he has smelled, none of them have had that hint of bitter bile.

Nancy smells like geraniums and gunpowder in the air like sparklers lit ten seconds to midnight on New Year's Eve, like possibilities and giddiness. Even after they break up there is some comfort in her scent. It's the first time Steve learns that an alpha's scent can be soft and gentle and not smell sharp like burned milk and suffocate the entire room the alpha is in.

At some point Steve becomes glad that his father is never home, relishing being able to breathe. His mother's scent isn't any better. Where is father's scent is biting, hers is overtly sweet. So sweet it's almost sickening. Something's always smelled off about it, fake too. Like artificial violets and stevia. Not that artificial always smells bad.

Robin's scent is a mixture of blue raspberry and newly bought books and Steve hopes that whenever he finally has the guts and the means to move out his next apartment is going to smell like her. They'll never be true mates, he knows that. But as far as platonic soulmates go Robin definitely is the one.

By far Steve's favorite but also most confusing scent is Eddie. Because Eddie smells just like his trailer. Like literally exactly like his trailer. Any room he walks in instantly fills with the scent of fresh coffee and beans on toast. Sun-warmed air and hints of weed. Laughter, if laughter had a smell. Drug store brand hair products and denim and leather. Corduroy cushions and cold crispness that nightfall at the end of summer brings. It's lovely and always mixed with the kids' scents or Nancy's or Robin's. Occasionally, Jocye's and Jonathan's too. For some reason, it all just clings to Eddie like cookie crumbs to syrup-soaked, sugar-sticky fingers. Steve never met anyone who's smelt so much like other people. When he mentions it to Robin she gives him an odd look.

"I think Eddie smells just like Eddie?" she says before adding slowly. "But ya know, beta nose, I don't smell much."

"But you agree that he smells exactly like his trailer right?" Steve asks. Robin's look grows even odder.

"People don't smell like the place they live in," she says slowly. "Scents are more complicated. Maybe Eddie's place just smells a lot like him because it's small and stuffy and he is always in."

"The trailer isn't sticky!" Steve has the need to defend Eddie's trailer. Robin has never been at the Harrington house when Steve's parents have been home, she has no idea what stuffy means.

Robin just hums and thinks for a second. "Does the trailer ever smell like Wayne?"

Wayne smells like gasoline and tobacco, laundry detergent and asphalt that has been rained on, what did Dustin call that smell? Petrichor? It's as comforting as a blanket and hot chocolate during a thunderstorm, reassuring words and fairy tales read in silly voices. Wayne smells like a childhood Steve never had. But the trailer doesn't smell much like Wayne. There is always a faint hint, the same way there is always a faint hint of the rest of their mismatched pack. But that's only because Eddie smells like pack and Eddie's trailer smells like Eddie. Just like Eddie!

Steve tells Robin exactly that and she grows quiet. It's always worrying when she grows quiet, usually always so quick to chatter. She doesn't share her thoughts, says she only has a thesis, not ready to share it yet. Or maybe Steve is not ready to hear it yet. He gets an idea hough of what her thesis might be when they lock up family video.

"You headed straight home after dropping me off" Robin asks as she puts the last returned tapes back on the shelves.

"Yes, Eddie said he is making chilli, so hurry up," Steve says, his stomach already growling.

"Is he cooking at yours?"

"No, at the trailer, why would he be cooking at mine?" Steve asks, wondering where Robin got such a weird idea that Eddie might be - oh. Steve had kinda referred to the trailer as home, hadn't he? It's like a row of dominos toppling over, revealing a beautiful picture once the very last one has fallen. Eddie is at the trailer. The trailer, which Steve thinks of as home. Home, that Eddie smells of. Steve is well aware of his feelings for Eddie. Has been crushing on him since Eddie pressed a bottle to his throat, but somehow despite the smell of alpha in distress filling the boat house, there had been something comforting about Eddie's scent. Something familiar, like coming back as an adult to a place you last visited as a child and the smell of memories hanging in the air. The buzzing feeling sitting at the bottom of Steve's spine, I have known you before.

Steve has never rushed so much to drop Robin off before breaking several speed limits on his way to Eddie's trailer. He basically runs inside, not bothering to knock, knowing the door is open. The smell of home engulfs him like the arms of a beloved would. Steve's beloved stands at the stove, string chilli, looking up and smiling so sweetly at Steve as if Steve's presence has been that one missing piecing, the special ingredient, all along.

"Hello sweetheart," Eddie says and it makes Steve's breath stock.

Eddie calls him sweetheart all the time, it doesn't mean anything. But what if it does? Steve is always quick to throw himself at danger, the pack gets hurt over his dead body. He takes it all, the punches, the drugs, the monsters. It makes him seem brave. Self-destructive, self-sacrificing, stupid but brave. Only that he isn't brave, not really. He loves too much to think twice about things, but if he took his time, weighed out whether he should really jump in front of a gun, Steve would be shaking with fear. Fortunately, there is no gun in Eddie's hand aimed at him, only a wooden spoon and the ask to taste, see if anything is missing. Steve lets himself be fed, has to suppress a moan because the chilli is perfect. It only makes Eddie smile more and despite Steve's breath becoming shallow he decides to be brave.

"Hey, what do I smell like to you?" Steve asks. It's a taboo question, frowned upon by most people, you don't just ask about your own scent. But Eddie isn't most people and happily indulges Steve.

"When I still lived with my parents," he says as he starts plating their food. "My mum would take me to this diner around the corner every time she and my dad would have a fight. There was this waitress, Franny, she'd always come over and bring me a piece of apple pie and crayons and coloring books while she was trying to talk my mum into leaving my dad probably. I don't really know, I was busy coloring. Like I knew something bad was happening and things were shitty for my mom, but I loved going to the diner. It was my little bubble of comfort when I was a child. That's what you smell like: apple pie heavy on the cinnamon and crayons. Little bit over strong filter coffee every now and then too. You kinda smell like..." Eddie stops, suddenly realizing what exactly Steve smells like.

He looks at Steve, mouth gaping slightly. There are tears in Steve's eyes. All his life he thought he smelt just like his parents' house. Like murky water and dust-covered floors. Like the rot of something falling apart. Like something broken. Eddie is crossing the room in an instant, gently wiping Steve's tears away with his thumb.

"You smell like home to me too," Steve confesses and suddenly he no longer is the only one crying.

He is in the arms of the alpha he loves, the alpha who loves him back, surrounded by the smell of home. They don't say I love you, don't have to. You are home already conveys all the emotions they are otherwise unable to put into words. Instead Eddie almost shyly asks,

"Can I kiss you?" And when Steve nods and Eddie's lips meet his, Eddie finds out that Eddie tastes just like home too.

[bruisedboys]

❛ here, give this a try and tell me what you think. ❜ may i request baker reader who teases miguel by giving him a sweet kiss after trying what they made :)

thank you baby for the ask! I had heaps of fun writing this :) also I cheated and changed the dialogue a little bit oops

miguel o’hara x fem!reader, fluff, spoiler free!!! (also not proofread very well)

Miguel’s not an overly affectionate guy. He likes you, sure, but he keeps the physical affection to a minimum — he kisses you and touches you minimally when there are others around. He’ll hug you if you ask for it, he’ll hold your hand too, but only when it’s just the two of you alone. It’s not that he doesn’t like you, because he does, a lot, it’s just not his thing. Neither of you mind.

When it comes to your affections, however, Miguel is practically bombarded with them every waking second. And he says this in a very affectionate way, mind you. You’re always telling him he looks handsome. Always touching his chest or his arm, putting your hand in his hair (when he’s low enough that you can reach it). You’re not afraid of letting him know just how much you like him. It makes him weak in the knees, if he’s being honest.

You appear in Miguel’s lab slash office with the air of someone who’s excited and can barely hold it in. You’re bouncing on your feet and you’ve got your hands behind your back, hiding something.

“Hi, handsome,” you say, a happy lilt in your voice as you skip towards him.

Miguel bites back a smile. If he smiles, you’ll tease him for it, for sure. He tries not to sound too lovelorn when he says, “Hi,” back.

It doesn’t work. It’s probably the sappiest he’s ever sounded saying one single word. It’s hardly his fault. You’ve caught him at a bad time — he’d just been thinking about you and then you’d appeared. Very inconsiderate of you.

You stop a little way’s away from him and then make a show of pushing whatever you’ve got behind your back further out of sight. Miguel raises a brow.

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

You roll your eyes. “Am I not allowed to visit my boyfriend at work?”

The way you say ‘boyfriend’ makes Miguel’s heart feel funny. You’ve only just started calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend. Before that it was coworkers, then acquaintances. then friends, then friends who kiss. Now he’s your boyfriend. It’s a new feeling. Not bad, just new.

“You’re allowed,” he says. “Of course you are.”

You beam then. It makes you look even prettier than you already are when you’re neutral-faced, your cheeks appled and plump, your eyes all crinkled at the corners. Happy you is his favourite you.

“Good,” you say. “‘Cos I brought you something.”

You take another step forwards and finally pull out the thing you’re hiding behind your back. It’s a Tupperware container with a blue lid. It’s decidedly ordinary, in Miguel’s totally unordinary work place. You step closer still and curl your fingers around the lid, pulling it up gently to reveal its contents.

Inside are a dozen or so chocolate chip cookies. Miguel looks at them, and then looks at you. You’re smiling shyly.

“I made them,” you explain, a shyness to your words that Miguel thinks is awfully adorable. “Thought you might be hungry.”

Miguel gets a very clear picture in his head of you in the kitchen, scooping cookie dough onto a tray, and thinks that maybe next time he’ll have to be there when you bake so he can kiss you stupid.

“Here,” you say , reaching for a cookie and breaking it in half. “Try this and tell me what you think.”

You hold out the cookie half to Miguel and he’d be an asshole if he said no to that. Plus, he can smell the sugar and the butter, and you’re right, he is hungry.

“Thank you,” he says, taking the cookie from your, his fingers brushing the back of your hand. You’ve got unbelievably nice hands. He thinks about it as he takes a bite of the cookie. Then he thinks about how good the cookie tastes. It’s caramel-y like you put a lot of butter in it, but he can taste salt too, and the chocolate is just dark enough that it’s not too sweet but still totally delicious.

“Good?” You ask, looking up at him hopefully.

Miguel swallows, then takes another bite pointedly. You giggle.

“It’s good?” You say excitedly. “I didn’t know if you liked dark chocolate, but it was all I could find.”

Miguel shakes his head. “It’s good,” he says. “Really good.”

You beam, looking like you can’t contain your glee. “Really? You like it?”

Miguel smiles at you. He’s feeling very fond right about now. And there’s no one around, so he reaches for your face and cups your cheek in his big hand. He stands over you and smiles in a way that Peter B. would definitely make fun of.

“Thank you,” he says, taking a step closer to you. “You don’t have to be so nice to me all the time, you know. Have you tried one?”

You shake your head. You’re decidedly silent, like you’re thinking about something but not saying what it is. You shuffle closer to him, the Tupperware container squished between your bodies.

“Lean down, would you, handsome?” You ask, a playful undertone to your soft request.

Miguel obliges. He’s pretty sure he knows where this is going. He leans down to a point where he knows you can reach and waits.

You look up at him for a moment. Then you push yourself onto your toes and kiss him, your hand pushing up against his chest to anchor yourself. Miguel’s hand latches onto your waist, fingers curling, subconsciously pulling you in. It’s a sweet kiss and Miguel wishes it would go on longer but you’re pulling away after only a few moments, smiling like a fool.

“What?” He asks, and your smile has caught on his lips, too.

“You taste good,” you say, giggling. “I think I did a pretty good job with the cookies.”

Miguel grins. “Really?” He drawls in a low voice, his tone borderline teasing, and your giggling subsides as he inches his face closer to yours. “Want another taste?”