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kendyzzlewp · 16 hours

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Creatures in Heaven||ART DONALDSON

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: you run into your old college sweetheart, art, in a hotel bar. old wounds resurface as you tried to make sense of it all.

tags: college sweethearts, angst, non graphic smut?, reconnecting, pain, sad!art, divorced!reader, tears

“I don’t think I realize just how much I miss you sometimes. We were young and so in love. We were just creatures in heaven.”

You’ve always loved hotel bars.

The dimly lit space, the chatter of the guests around you, the overpriced drinks. Sitting down on a stool at the hotel you frequent after a particularly hard day at work, you can’t help but let your mind drift off. The TV above you plays a recap of the latest tennis match. Your old friend shows up on the screen, brown head stuck to his forehead, a huge goofy victorious smile on his face.

You quickly pull up your phone, sending a congratulatory text to Patrick. Making plans to meet before he leaves town.

A glass of wine gets placed in front of you, the maroon liquid swirling slightly.

“Y/N?”

You could recognize that voice anywhere. Turning slightly in your stool, your eyes met surprised blue ones. The pounding of your heart could be heard from miles away. He looked older, fitter. His blonde hair was now shorter, a stark difference to his Stanford days.

“Art,” you whispered, placing your drink down with trembling hands. “Wow, it’s been so long.”

As your gaze meets Art's, memories flood back, and you're reminded of the countless conversations and shared moments in your college dorm. You could lie and say you haven’t been following his career but you weren’t kidding anyone but yourself. You watched every tournament, every match, cheered silently from your apartment as took the tennis world by storm.

As he sits down beside you, you can't help but feel a rush of emotions—nostalgia mixed with a tinge of sadness. The memories of your last encounter weigh heavily on your mind, the pain and heartache still fresh despite the passing years.

"I can't believe it's really you," Art says, breaking the silence. "I've thought about you so often, wondered how you were doing. You look great.”

You look into his eyes, seeing a mix of emotions mirrored back at you. There's regret, longing, and a hint of hope.

"I've thought about you too," you admit, a sad smile playing on your lips. "I watched your matches, saw your rise to the top. I'm so proud of you, Art.

"Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot to me." Art's expression softens, a bittersweet smile crossing his face. “Wouldn’t be where I am without your support.”

The air between you is heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. You both know there's much to discuss, but the weight of the past sits between you like a barrier.

“How’s Tashi?”

You had to ask. Patrick talked about them all the time. Even drunkenly confessing he had slept with Tashi in Atlanta when they bumped into each other for a tournament. You wonder if Art knew, you wonder if he hurt the way he hurt you.

“She’s Tashi,” he whispers, motioning the bartender for a drink. “Same as always.”

Art's response is cryptic, and you can sense the tension in his voice. You remember the pain of hearing about his relationship with Tashi, and it stirs up a mix of emotions within you.

"I heard about your marriage," you say softly, searching his eyes for any reaction. "I hope she makes you happy."

Art looks down at his drink, swirling the liquid around in his glass. His silver wedding band caught the bar’s overhead yellow light.

"It's complicated. Things are... not what they seem."

You nod silently, understanding how complicated a marriage like that could be. You think about your own failed relationship, how it was necessary for you to let your husband go because he couldn’t compare. He could never compare to the man sitting next to you.

“Are you married?” He asked, taking a sip of his whisky.

You hesitate for a moment, the weight of Art's question sinking in. It's a question that holds so much significance, one that forces you to confront your own feelings and past decisions.

"Divorced," you reply softly, meeting his gaze steadily.

There's a flicker of something in Art's eyes, a mix of surprise and curiosity. You wonder if he can sense the unspoken truth behind your words, the lingering emotions that still tie you to him despite the passage of time.

"I've had my share of relationships," you continue, your eyes fixed on the drink in front of you. "But they just… didn’t compare."

Art's gaze intensifies, his eyes searching yours for any hint of what you're feeling. The air between you crackles with tension, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the dimly lit space of the hotel bar.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he says softly, his voice tinged with regret. "But I'm glad you're here now."

You feel a rush of emotions at his words, the familiar warmth of his presence washing over you like a comforting embrace. Despite the years apart and the pain of the past, there's still a connection between you that refuses to fade. You were only really yourself around Art. The rest just got this fucked up, fake version of you.

“I heard you have a daughter,” you said, changing the subject. “How is she?”

A pang of sadness hits you as you see the light in his eyes at the mention of his daughter. You wished you were the one to give him a child, just like you planned together all those years ago. Laid up together in your small dorm bed, hand intertwined, whispering promises and dreams at three in the morning.

“Lily,” Art's expression softens even more at the mention of his daughter, a warm smile spreading across his face. "She's the light of my life."

You can't help but smile at the genuine love and pride in his voice. Despite the complexities of his marriage and the challenges he may face, it's clear that his daughter brings him immense joy and fulfillment.

"I'm so glad to hear that," you say sincerely, feeling a bittersweet tug at your heartstrings. "She's lucky to have a father like you."

Art's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, it feels as though the weight of the past and the uncertainties of the future fade away, leaving only the warmth of the connection between you.

"Thank you," he murmurs, his voice filled with emotion.

As you continue to talk about Lily, you can't help but feel a sense of warmth and nostalgia enveloping you. Despite the complexities of your past and the uncertainties of the future, there's a comfort in the shared memories and the genuine connection between you and Art.

As the conversation flows, you find yourself opening up more than you ever expected, sharing stories and laughter in the dimly lit space of the hotel bar. It's as if the years apart have melted away, leaving only the familiar ease and familiarity of your college days.

You look down at your phone, eyes widening at the time. “Wow,” you exclaimed. “It’s three am.”

Art chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Time really flies when you're lost in conversation, doesn't it?"

You nod, feeling a mixture of surprise and contentment at how quickly the hours have passed. Despite the late hour, you find yourself reluctant to leave the comfort of Art's company and the warm ambiance of the hotel bar.

"It's been so wonderful catching up with you," you say, a genuine smile tugging at your lips. "I've missed this."

Art's smile mirrors yours, his expression filled with warmth and sincerity. "Me too, Y/N. It's been far too long."

As you gather your things and prepare to leave, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected reunion and the chance to reconnect with Art after so many years apart. Despite the complexities of your past and the uncertainties of the future, you know that this moment will always hold a special place in your heart.

As you bid Art farewell and step out into the cool night air, you feel a sense of renewal and hope stirring within you. You start walking down the street, your heart bleeding from reopening old wounds you swore to never touch again.

“Wait!”

You turn around to see Art jogging to catch up to you. He slows down as he approaches you, panting slightly.

“Is everything okay?" you ask, a hint of concern in your voice.

Art looks at you, tears pooling in his eyes. "I know it’s too late, but I just don’t think you realize just how much I miss you sometimes.”

His voice trembles, and you can see the raw emotion in his eyes. He steps closer, his hands trembling slightly as he reaches out to take your hand.

“Y/N, it’s been almost ten years, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about you. I miss the way you laugh, the way you’d stay up with me all night just to help me study, the way you believed in me when no one else did. I miss us.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you listen to his heartfelt confession. His words hit you with the force of all the years you’ve spent apart, all the moments you’ve both lived without each other.

“Art…” you begin, but he shakes his head, needing to say more.

“I thought marrying Tashi was the right thing to do, but it never felt right because she wasn’t you. Every achievement, every milestone—it felt hollow because you weren’t there to share it with me. I’ve tried to move on, to live my life, but no one ever came close to making me feel the way you did. I still love you, Y/N. I never stopped. And seeing you tonight, it’s like all those feelings just came rushing back.”

You’re overwhelmed, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to process his words. You feel a mix of hope, fear, and an undeniable longing.

“Art,” you whisper, tears streaming down your cheeks. “We can’t.”

He takes a step closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. “I don’t know what the future holds, and I know we both have a lot of shit to deal with, but I can’t let you walk away again. I refuse.”

You look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and desperation in his gaze. Despite the years apart and the complications of your pasts, the connection between you is undeniable.

“I don’t know what the future holds either,” you admit, your voice shaking. “But I do know that I’ve never stopped loving you.”

Without another word, he leans forward and presses his lips against yours, the taste of whiskey and longing lingering in the air. In that fleeting moment, everything else fades away—the pain of the past, the uncertainties of the future—leaving only the warmth of the connection between you and Art.

You both pull back, foreheads pressed together, heavy panting as you both try to catch your breath. Your heartbeat resonating in your ears as you find his hand, interlocking your fingers.

“Take me home?” You asked, silently hoping he understood the underlying tone of your invitation.

Art nods, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I'd love to."

Together, you walk through the quiet streets, the only sound being the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. The world feels hushed and intimate, as if it's just the two of you in your own little bubble of time.

As you reach your apartment building, you turn to face Art, your heart pounding in your chest. The moment feels charged with emotion, a mix of longing and uncertainty swirling between you.

"Do you want to come in?," you say softly, searching his eyes for any hint of what he's feeling. "I think I have some wine…”

He leans in and kisses you again, his lips soft and warm against yours. In that moment, all doubts and fears melt away, leaving only the certainty of your feelings for each other. You opened the door to your apartment, still locked in the passionate kiss.

Art kicks the door closed, walking you further into the room. His hands getting reacquainted with your body, muscle memory kicking in as he lifts you.

“That way,” you mumble against his lips, motioning to a door in the back.

With a soft chuckle, Art carries you towards the direction you indicated, his lips never leaving yours. The heat of the moment ignites a fire within you both as you stumble towards the bedroom.

You want to savor each moment. You need to remember it in case it’s the last time. There’s no rush as your hands lift his shirt over his head, his pale skin glowing with the moonlight that streams from your window. You press a kiss to the scar on his shoulder, feeling goosebumps appear on his skin.

Art does the same, tenderly lifting your dress over your head. His fingers tracing stroking every inch of your skin as he lays you down on your bed.

The room is filled with the sound of your breath mingling with the soft hum of the city outside. In this intimate space, you find solace and connection in each other's arms, lost in a whirlwind of passion and longing.

As the night stretches on, you lose yourself in each other, exploring every inch of each other's bodies as if trying to memorize every detail. Time seems to stand still as you become lost in the moment, consumed by the intensity of your shared desire.

—

Hours later, as the first light of dawn filters through the curtains, you find yourselves tangled together in the sheets, your bodies still humming with the echoes of your passion. Clothes strewn around the floor of your bedroom. With a contented sigh, you bury your face in Art's chest, feeling a sense of peace and fulfillment wash over you.

As you lie there in the quiet stillness of the morning, you realize that this is where you belong—wrapped in Art's arms. He holds you as if you were made just for him, so tightly and close. Trying to bound the pieces of you he broke, together.

And as you drift off to sleep, you know that no matter what the future may hold, you will always belong to Art Donaldson.

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sweet1delusi0ns · 3 days

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Naruto boys insecurity’s

──☆*:・ﾟ

!Angst!

Characters: Naruto🦊,sasuke🗡️,Itachi🥀, kakashi🍃, kiba🐺, shikamaru🀄️,shino🪲,neji🎋,Lee🥋,choji🍥,gaara⏳,kankuro🪆

Naruto🦊-*

He’s grown up an outcast so he’s slightly insecure anyways (poor thing). He thinks he’s a bother to you sometimes and gets himself in a slump. You noticed how hes been rather quiet with you, not asking for anything, not begging for cuddles or kisses, you knew something must have been wrong. And it was confirmed when you over heard him talking to himself in the mirror, basically just insulting himself

“Why cant i just do better…” “why do I have to be so annoying…everyone thinks I’m annoying…probably even y/n. They could do so much better why m-” “NARUTO DONT YOU DARE FINISH THAT SENTENCE” you bust down the door causing naruto to quickly wipe his teary eyes “hey y/n! W-what do you mean?” “You know what I mean naruto.” You reach for his cheek to make sure he keeps his eyes on you “your not a bother naruto. And you deserve me as much as I deserve you! Why are you saying this?” He’s in full blown tears now, ugly crying and everything “e-everyone already thinks that way about me I-I thought you would think the same after a w-while” he sniffs “foxy…do I need..to show you how much you mean to me?” His eyes widen at the fact that he actually means something to you. For the rest of the night you never left him alone once, you spoiled him so much more that normal which made him feel so much better. He loves youuuuuu

Sasuke🗡️-*

Also was treated like an outcast but it didn’t affect him in the way it affected naruto. He doesn’t really think he’s a bother, if anything he’s scared that you think your the bother, since he’s so “cold” towards you sometimes he’s scared your going to leave or think he doesn’t love you anymore. Once it got so overwhelming for him he had teary eyes for hours just thinking about how he acts, he decided he needed to tell you. Once he found you he ran towards you and engulfed you in a big hug. You thought this was adorable or him being silly until you felt something wet on your shoulder followed by a broken breath

“S-sasuke? What’s wrong…Are you crying?” You could hear a sad whimper coming from him. “I love you. I-I love you so much y/n please don’t forget. No matter how I act I-” “I know. Baby I know. I love you too, what’s this about, your scaring me?” He didn’t dare remove his tear stained head from your shoulder “I know I’m…mean s-sometimes but-” it finally clicked for you why he was so upset all of a sudden “sasuke… your not mean! And I know you love me no matter how you act.” “I..just thought…no one understands how I truly feel. I just Need you to know…t-that I do love you” he pulls away from your shoulder to wipe his eyes before turning away from embarrassment. He felt you wrapping your arms around him causing him to jump. “I’m sorry y/n. I’m just over reacting” “no don’t. Don’t say that… I think we should lay down. You need to relax do you need me to help you? I know you feel…weak” he takes a deep breath “please y/n… yes” you both walk together to your bed. Trust me when I tell you he is going to feel a lot better after some comfort *wink*

Itachi🥀-*

He just feels… worthless sometimes. He just doesn’t feel worthy of good things that happen in his life, aka you. He doesn’t feel worthy of you. But he is very open with you unlike others, he tells you what’s wrong no matter what.

“Y/n. I have uhm… I have some feeling I would like to share.” “Of course Love, what’s up?” “I…” You gaze softens realizing he’s going to get upset “I don’t feel worthy.” “Oh…tachi… come here” you pat the spot next to you but instead he took your lap instead, he reaches in for a hug before speaking up again “tell me you love me. Please. And tell me I’m worthy…” “you are the love of my life. And you are worthy of that love. No matter what you think you deserve love.” That is all he needs to hear. Although he gets very upset you can always calm him down. It does happen more often but you do not care. Anything to make him feel better.

Kakashi🍃-*

We all know he’s very attractive but that doesn’t mean he thinks the same. He doesn’t like his scar, he doesn’t like the story it holds and he doesn’t like the look of it. He can hold back the insecurity in battle because he knows it’s not worth dying because he thinks it’s ugly, but he cant hold back the insecurity on a day to day basis with you, he gets extremely timid with you. You see him with the mask off all the time so it’s kinda funny that you rarely see him without something covering his eye. But you just thought he forgets it’s there so you didn’t think about insecurity, but when you walk in on him washing his face he almost instantly covered his eye with his palm you knew something was wrong

“Ay? Why you covering that cute face?!” “Aha thanks y/n” he chuckles trying to make you ignore it yet he still kept his hand up “serious what’s with your hand?” “Well..ah you know..” he points to his eye with his other hand “what your scar? Babe I don’t care” he smiles softly before replying “I care…” “take your hand away” “I’d rather not-” “kakashi.” Groans “yes y/n…” he drops his hand and you let out a content sigh “there’s my baby” you grab his face with both hands and kiss his scar softly “you don’t find it odd?” He looks away while blushing “no kakashi I don’t find it odd because I love you.” He flashes a smile before turning back to the mirror with a weird look still on his face, to lighten the mood you grabbed him my the cheeks to shake his head back and forth before giggling at him. “Cutiee” you comment before kissing his beauty mark then walking back out the door.

Kiba🐺-*

He’s sensitive, he may be a big joker but if someone else says the wrong thing he will not be happy, normally the only thing he doesn’t like being called is a mutt or a dog. It makes him feel ashamed of him family quirk. Just because he loves animals doesn’t mean he is one right? He started thinking maybe he is just a dog. A Dirty, annoying, unfunny mutt. He started to feel like foolish for loving a dog so much, but he can’t help it it’s the family he was born into.

He has been rather distant from akamaru, still taking him on mission but recently he hasn’t been letting his puppy in the house as much anymore and he gets upset when you let him in instead. “Why did you let him in the house y/n!” “His a good boy he won’t chew up furniture if anything you would!” You we’re just trying to lighten the mood but it didn’t help “akamaru outside now!” He commands “come on why don’t you want him inside??” “You don’t need two mutts in the house y/n” this confused you for obvious reasons “two mutts? Are you talking about yourself? Your not…your not a dog thought?” He crosses his arms in protest “tell that to my friends, Or anyone because for some reason they all think I am a dog stuck in human form and it’s getting old.” You chuckle nervously “your not? If your talking about your dog like features and fighting style it’s just your quirk? It’s not your fault you can’t choose” he lowers his head “even you think I’m a dog sometimes!” “No baby. I dont I think your a human just with some animal features but most of your family is like that?” “If you don’t think I’m an animal why do you call me names like puppy.” He’s stretching, he loves it when you call him that he’s just in a mood “I call you that because you love attention and can’t go a day without seeing your loved ones. Plus your as cute as a pup!” His shoulders relax finally realizing he shouldn’t be upset over this. “I just feel ashamed of who I am sometimes y/n I’m sorry.” “Don’t be sorry. I love who you are if that makes it better” he chuckles “yeah…it kind of does make it better honestly…can you kiss me..?” He smile at his sudden change of mood “of course!”

Shikamaru🀄️-*

He knows he’s good looking but he also knows he’s not the best, he also knows your absolutely stunning, so it gets to him sometimes without realizing is, he changes his look every now and then to see if it would make him feel better. Maybe make him more attractive to you he hopes

“Dear could you turn around please?” “Sure shika whats u-” you stop dead in your tracks with a shocked look on your face “your hair is down!!!” You exclaim, the only time you see his hair down is when he is sleeping, you’ve never seen it down when he’s awake “I know, I’m trying something, does it look good?” You giggle “You always look good darling, just not use to it that’s all” you walk over to grab a handful of his hair which was slicked back but not up in a ponytail anymore. “Well I think you look handsome no matter what” he groans “don’t lie to me does it make me look worse?” You give him a nasty look “worse? You say that as if you already look bad…?” “Well eh-” “well what? Your very attractive Shika do you think other wise?” He puts his hands in his pockets “uhm sometimes-” “oh come on!” You grab his face “your soooo handsome no matter what you do with your hairrrr” you tease. He continued to make eye contact with you while a smile grows on his face. “…can I put a little braid in your hair?” “No” “Aw man.”

Shino🪲-*

He’s ok with his looks and doesn’t feel like a burden on you, oddly enough the only thing he’s insecure about is his voice. He thinks he sounds funny sometimes and doesn’t like how raspy it is, that’s why sometimes he doesn’t talk to you that much. Sometimes all he responds with is either nodding his head or shaking it which makes you feel bad

“What do you feel for dinner love bug?” “…” you looked around because maybe he left the room but no, he just didn’t respond. “Uhm hello???” “…” “are you hungry?” He shakes his head yes “with words please?” He looks around before responding quietly “yes I’m hungry” you giggle not quiet knowing what’s up with him “why are you so timid right now?” He finally speaks up “do you think I sound funny y/n?” “Uh no? Why” “sometimes I feel like my voice isn’t that pleasing.” “It sound pleasing to me-” he lightened up at the compliment “really?” “Yes of course!” When he’s insecure he normally gets over it fast, he’s rational and knows when he’s just being silly

Neji🎋-*

He knows he can choose his own destiny, he just wish the preset plan for him was burned into his forehead. He hated it so much, he was disgusted by it and therefor disgusted with himself. Sometimes you find him crying in the mirror over the symbol plastered onto him. But you always let him know that it doesn’t define him

You could hear cries coming from the bathroom and you couldn’t take it anymore so you decide to knock “sweetheart…are you crying?” He knew there was no point in lying anymore “y-yes..” “may I come in?” You could hear a cracked “mhm…” coming from the other side or the door so you walk in, immediately pulling him into your chest. “What happened. Did Someone do this?” He pulls away from your chest just to look back to the mirror to cover his mark while his lip quivered. You finally realized what was happening. “Give me your hand please..” he obliged lowering his hand. You grabbed his cheek and gave a very long forehead kiss. “Your worth more than this mark Neji.” You mumble against his head. You decided the best thing to do is go to bed and give him more love so that’s just what you did

Lee🥋-*

He may seem strong so it was shocking to you when he confided in you about how he’s insecure about almost everything about him (poor thing) he try’s to stay strong but he can’t help but get vulnerable with you

All you were doing was giving him love but he just felt unworthy of it. “My handsome, strong, perfect boy!~” kiss “well I don’t know if those words are accurate but thank you my precious!” You huff at his self doubt “don’t say that, your all of those things?” He laughs nervously “I don’t think so heh” “you are! You don’t think your handsome or strong…?” You frown “well uhm y/n…It obvious I’m not the best looking, and yeah I’m strong but…I could always be stronger.” He looked down at his feet in shame “Lee…take it back.” “W-what” “take it back. No one is allowed to insult my baby like that, not even himself.” He thought you were just joking until he looked up into your eyes to see the seriousness that laid in them, he could see tears forming in your eyes. “Please Lee. Take it back.” “I-I…I take it back y/n I’m sorry” “please…don’t ever say things that that again”

Choji🍥-*

He’s always been bullied because of his weight so of course he will be extremely insecure about it and anxious when your trying to love up on him, you knew he was insecure about it and you always told him it did it matter but you never realized to much it really affects him until your further into the relationship and you started to be more physically affectionate, he loves the affection just hates the body that it receiving it. All you were trying to do was hold him after a long day but he seemed so scared of if and you had to ask why

“Cmon let me hug you!” “No y/n..” you pout “why not! I wanna hold my fluff ball!” He cups his hands together then proceeded to look at the floor “I don’t think holding me is even possible…” your pout turned into a confusion “uh what do you mean choj?” He pinched at his stomach to hint at what he was talking about since he was to shy to actually tell you “oh…Choji you don’t need to worry about that I don’t care!” “I care because it means I can’t do certain things! How are you supposed to hold me!” You scoff “I’m confident I could carry you like a baby if I needed too.” “Your just saying that to make me feel better…” he crosses his arms and puffs his cheeks up out of timidness “I’m being serious Choji! I could totally carry you! Your not as big as you think you are.” He closes his eyes so tears dont form “I’d like to see you try y/n, you won’t be able t-” since his eyes were closed he didn’t see you walk over to his side, he only realized when he felt your arm latch around his shoulders and your other cupping around his legs. He open his eyes right in time to realize you just picked him up bridal style. He gasps in reaction, he turns to your face to see not a single ounce of struggle on your face “I told you! Your not that heavy choj!” This Moment honestly cured almost all his insecurity on that subject for a very long time. And sometimes he thinks “maybe she’s just really REALLY strong” he still loves the thought behind your actions. “Heh uhm…I guess maybe I’m not. Thank you sweetie!” “Anytime bubs~” with that you place him back down on his feet and give him a very passionate kiss

Gaara⏳-*

Most of his life he was basically controlling by either others or his inner demon so he didn’t have time to worry about appearance. But ever since he finally felt in control of his own life he now worries about his appearance sadly. He doesn’t like the mark on his head, he doesn’t really like his hair either and feels like his facial features just look wrong on him. He’s very good at hiding things so you didn’t realize until you overheard a conversation with him and his brother, he figured since kankuro is considered attractive maybe he should ask him for advice!

You were wondering around trying to find Gaara to ask him god knows what until you finally hear his voice along with kankuros, you walked behind the door about to knock until gaara’s question caught your attention. “So is there anything that could make me more ‘attractive’ or something along the lines of that?” “I don’t know? Maybe try face paint chicks dig it” you could hear a sigh leaving Gaara “I don’t want to attract ‘chicks’ I just want to attract y/n.” “What makes you think she doesn’t already feel attracted to you?” “I don’t know, I just feel like if I find myself unattractive maybe she does too.” That’s enough, you have to stop this. You knock on the door making them both look at it, you swing the door open and immediately look at gaara which was all it took for kankuro to take the hint “I’m just gunna..goooo…” you and him exchange nods before he leaves. Once the door shut you look back at gaara “what was all that?” “Oh so you heard?” “Yes gaara I heard, why do you find yourself unattractive? And why are your going to your skanky brother for help?” He turns his head to continue speaking “I can’t explain why I feel that way about myself, but I went to my brother because I know he is considered attractive to others.” You sit next to gaara and grab his chin to make him look at you. You lean closely to speak “how could you not love this face~” you whisper almost seductively while you drag your thumb across his cheek bone. “What don’t you like…?” His breath hitched out of fear of spilling his insecurity’s. “I guess…I don’t like the mark on my head, and I don’t like my nose much either, I also don’t really care for my hair it makes me look like a clown sometimes.” He’s waiting for you to agree with him but instead you lean closer to kiss everything he listed, first his little nose, then his marking and then you drag your hand through his hair which made him flushed. “Well I like Everything about you…” he finally makes eye contact with you, with red cheek. He took a big deep breath to reply “ok…thank you y/n. That makes me feel a bit better” you reach in for a hug which he gladly accepted!

Kankuro🪆-*

Even though he seems so hot and confident he’s much like his brother, sometimes he doesn’t like his bare face. He has make up on almost all day se rarely do you see him without any on, and when you do see him bare faced he’s weirdly shy which isn’t like him.

You both were in bed after work and you were just having a conversation, mostly it was just you talking which was weird because he’s normally high maintenance. “I couldn’t believe she had the audacity to say something like that, what do you think babe did she have a good point?” “I don’t know” his head is slightly turned to the side opposite of you which made it almost impossible to see him, he just washed his face so he’s completely bare faced yet won’t even look at you. “Babe? Cmon atleast look at me when I’m talking” “UGHHHHHHHH fine.” He turns to You shyly avoiding eye contact before replying “she’s in the wrong for saying that honestly-” you laugh “that’s exactly what I’m saying!……” you stared at his cute bare face for a little to long which made him anxious “what are you looking at y/n!” “I’m looking at your cute facee *boop*” he pulled away from your finger just to cross his arms “whateverr” you didn’t know at the time he wasn’t feeling his best but later he did tell you. But he still loves the compliment you give no matter how insecure he is at the time. Only you can make him feel better tbh

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n0tamused · 1 day

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Hi! I saw that you requests were open and I had a brain rot about an idea, with platonic! Ratio with a student who acts like Bronya Zaychik. Feel free to ignore this if you don't feel like writing this! I love your work sm! Take care🗣🗣🗣

- 🧈 anon

A/N: My first emoji anon >:D Hello! Thank you so much for your request, I do hope I did it justice. I do have to say I did not play HI3 besides a little bit of the start, so I am not that well versed with Bronya's character there, but I did ask a friend to tell me about her, so I hope this is alright <3 Enjoy! You take care too!

Contents: PLATONIC! Dr Ratio x Reader, hcs, fluff?? Fight me

-Dr. Ratio is hard to get close to, both as a professor and an individual outside the Intelligentsia Guild. With that comes great impartiality when dealing with people, no one gets a better or a necessarily worse treatment by him, unless they’re really asking for it

-This does not mean that he is not keen on observation. Seldom few things can go by him without his notice, and that includes the little details about the students he teaches. The things they think escape the view of others

-It took some time, some odd few months before he really began to focus a bit more on you, all past observations accounting up to what he thinks now. His view definitely changed, positively so too.

-He is very appreciative of you, as a bright spark among the sea of dull minds, and he also began to look forward to your essays and exam papers. Although his rather harsh outward demeanor is yet to soften, it is clear he is taking steps to take a bit more care about you, taking steps to nurture your mind and to encourage its further growth

-Dr. Ratio really does want to spread knowledge far and wide, that is his life mission, and his way of teaching can be hard to catch on to, something he is aware of. So whenever he does see someone grasping his talks and being in tune with the material, he will do his best to not let that student stray from this path

-As a professor it is his duty and responsibility to be like that, but he takes that duty on tenfold

-During the days and classes which are spent in practical learning, Dr. Ratio would observe your way of going about the task, the way you look so…deadpan when being seemingly sarcastic with your peers, and how much you just cherish those few people in your closest circle, and how they cherish you in return- it is something that leaves him with an odd sense of pride in his chest.

-Having mentioned that, he finds it oddly peculiar and curious how you seem to refer to yourself as a third person too, and at times he does find it to be a pet peeve of his. In his mind it’s a cruel way to demean yourself like that, and at times when it seems as if you’re being rude to yourself, he will jump in to correct you - not only on the way you refer to yourself, but also the way you talk about yourself. He may be blunt, but he is not unnecessarily rude and there is care interwoven between his sharp words. Dr. Ratio does not take out rage on his students either, unless asked for, obviously - when did he ever mince his words or actions with idiots? But you are human, so at least treat yourself as one.

-It is an odd feeling Dr. Ratio feels, a sense of paternal protectiveness when it comes to you after a long while of teaching you and getting to know you through small talks here and there and through the answers you offer.

-Should you encounter an issue, any issue, rest assured, Dr. Ratio does not mind repeating himself - after he let a small sassy remark fall from his lips about having to repeat himself. He shows you how he does it himself, before letting you take a go under his watchful eye. You may even catch a subtle praise or two slip from him

-He is well aware of the setbacks you can encounter, mainly with the issues of walking and going about. Dr. Ratio would try to accommodate the needs of his students, including you, as practically as he could. Thankfully, you won’t need to walk much at all during his classes.

-Going back to the protectiveness he feels, he sort of has that demeanor which in a nutshell is just “I can yell at them but no one else can”. The other professors at the Guild can really strike his nerves when they are just rude and cruel to students, and aeons save the person that dares to dig their nasty teeth into either one of his students. They’re not gonna hear the end of it

-Say what you want about him, but one thing that is not true is that Dr. Ratio is emotionless, or that he lacks empathy. He was a student once too, and someone’s child. And now you’re his student, and while you may not be coddled in any way, you will be taken care of.

#Dr Ratio #Veritas Ratio #Dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x you #dr ratio x y/n #gn reader #dr ratio x gn reader #veritas ratio x reader #veritas ratio x you #dr ratio headcanons #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail headcanons

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put-me-through-the-wall · 23 hours

Text

Girl Next Door- Pt. 2

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: Simon finally accept your offer for dinner. Did you mention you can cook?

A/N: I was a little slow on this but the idea of them getting close was stressing me out, okay? Also my MIL was in town and I couldn't get in the groove. All the support so far is amazing, thank you guys so much! If y'all like it there will be more to come. Warning: still slow burning

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Part I

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Simon sits across from you at your tiny dining table pressed against the wall of your cramped kitchen. You managed to lure him in with a fairly nice bottle of unopened scotch you found in the back of your cabinet that had potentially fallen into one of your own boxes when moving from your ex's house.

He looks around your quaint little one bedroom apartment. It was a lot different than his own. The literal layout was the same. No extra rooms or walls but you’d done something different in here. The whole space had a cozy feeling to it. Every surface was decorated with useless gadgets and trinkets that he didn't understand the purpose of. Lots of blankets, pillows, soft things. You had music quietly playing through your TV speakers in the living room. A few lamps fill the dim room creating a subtle yellow glow that hits the high points of your face, softening your tired features.

"Do you think there's something wrong with me?" you suddenly blurt out.

"S'cuse me?" Simon asks, caught off guard by the question.

"Lately I've been feeling like there's something inside of me that attracts horrible guys. Like, is there a beacon coming out my head that says 'hey, come over here. I'm vulnerable and easy'."

Simon pauses, unsure how to respond. He watches your face closely. You're sad eyes looking to him for an answer he doesn't have. "I think you're...nice," but he has a feeling that's not what you wanted to hear.

"nice?" You let out a humorless laugh. "Maybe that's the problem. Nice must translate to doormat," You sigh and drop your head into your hands.

Simon takes a sip of his drink. He's growing concerned this is entering too friendly territory. Then you pop your head back up.

"So, how much did you hear?"

"Not much"

"Yeah right," You toss him a coy smile. “Can I tell you what happened?”

“Sure,”

“Alright, so” you take a sip of your own drink and a deep breath before recounting your story. "I met him at work. He was really nice and offered to pick me up a coffee on his way in one day. I haven’t made any friends at work yet so it was nice just to chat over a coffee. Then we started having lunch together. Nothing serious just in the break room but it felt good to hear about something other than notes from my editor. I wasn’t looking for anything serious, I mean I moved here to focus on myself not continue dating more crappy guys. So of course he started texting me and he was really sweet. He complimented my outfits and thought all my jokes were hilarious apparently. I really wasn’t trying to get involved with this guy though. He said something about hearing I can cook and of course I said I do. It’s part of my job, duh. He’s giving my shit about it so I invited him over for dinner. I made this creamy potato gnocchi with Italian sausage that I got from that great butcher on the corner. I even hand rolled the gnocchi. I mean, who wouldn't kill for an authentic Italian meal?"

"He's sounds like some guy"

"Not really, I was testing out a new recipe for the column so, two birds one stone. Anyways, he comes up and we have some wine and listen to some music. It was going really well so far. Then I go to bring out a nice charcuterie board for an appetizer while the pasta finishes baking. While I'm bringing it to him I can see he's on his phone, texting someone and literally giggling. I walk up behind him and he is sexting. On my couch!" you throw you hands up incredulously. "Well, I thought he was. He’s looking at a picture of some girl bent over then I realize it’s me. He took a picture of my ass, while I was making him dinner. I couldn't fucking believe it. What kind of a scumbag does that to a woman preparing a fucking meal for him? Now, this is not something I'm proud of so let the record show this is very out of character for me but these were extraordinary circumstances. So, I dropped the fig chutney on his head. Right in his stupid quaffed hair. He jumps up and he's all mad and starts yelling and I'm yelling back. He calls me a crazy bitch then I call him a perv. After that he left." you conclude with a shrug.

"Wow" Simon responds, truly taken aback by the series of events.

"Yeah, then you know the rest from there. I don't know what came over me. I guess after my last breakup I haven't felt very good about myself and this guy made me feel, I don't know- fun? That feels silly to say. I should’ve known better from a guy that works the celebrity gossip section. I probably looked like a big baby out there, how dramatic. I'm sorry about that, again."

"You don't need to apologize."

"After I moved here I thought things would be different. I thought guys in the city were classier I guess. Turns out all guys are the same. Just take what they want and go. Do you want another drink?" You point to his now empty glass.

"Sure." You snag his cup and stand. He watches you walk over to the counter in your silky slip dress. The sleek fabric clings to your waist. Flaring around your hips and down your thighs. The warm light reflects on the shiny material, shifting with each step you take. It tightens perfectly about your waist and cinched with a neat little bow in the back. He wonders why you would wear a dress like that for this guy.

"So, do you date?" you question in a seemingly casual tone.

"No"

"Yeah right," you laugh and look over your shoulder to see his stoney expression and your smile fades. "Oh, sorry, I just- I find that hard to believe."

"Why is that?" He tilts his head and you focus back on filling his glass.

"It's just, you're a good looking guy. I would think you'd get plenty of female attention," You pivot back around and place the glass before him. You lean on the table with one hand and prop the other on your waist.

"'M not interested," his gaze stays fixed on the brown liquid, grabbing it and taking another sip. He doesn't miss the way you deflated the slightest bit.

"Maybe I should take a page out of your book, as in maybe swearing off men completely" The oven timer dings. "Oh! pasta!" You jump over and grab your oven mitts. You drop the oven door and slide out the sizzling dish. An aroma of cheese and basil fills the air. Your stomach audibly growls.

You pull down two plates from your cabinet. You serve up the steaming pasta, sprinkling parmesan and fresh chopped herbs for garnish. You proudly carry over the two dishes and place them carefully on the table. You place your hands on your hips while gazing down at the platter.

"This looks...great." Simon is truly taken aback by the incredible looking dish.

"Wait, don't eat yet. Let me get a picture." You scamper into your living room, grabbing your phone off the coffee table and scurrying back. You hold your phone high above for a birds eye view. Simon scoots his chair back to avoid the gaze of the lens. The camera clicks with a flash. You examine the photo, seeming satisfied with the quality and finally taking a seat in your own chair. "It was okay if you were in the picture. I don't mind."

"I do," he says simply.

To anyone else, Simon comes off as rude or callous but you, you never seem to let his shortness affect you. You take his words and just keep going. You don't mind his lack of conversation. It seems you are totally satisfied with having someone there to listen. He was starting to think he didn't mind listening so much.

"Oh," You shift uncomfortably in your chair. "Sorry then. Well, let me know what you think. Try to be detailed with your feelings about it if you can. You're my guinea pig and be honest. I don't want to put this out when it's garbage."

He proceeds to take a forkful in his mouth. He cannot control the groan that escapes his throat as the bold flavor hits his tongue. This is far cry from his usual take away food. He can't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal now that he thinks about it.

"This is quite good." He grumbled between bites. Not caring to finish chewing before he's stabbing at the pasta on the plate once again.

"Really? You don't need to be nice to spare my feelings. I don't mind criticism."

He shoves more in his mouth. "I’m serious"

"Thank you" You giggle watching him scarf down the still steaming hot meal.

The two of you finish your respective plates without much more conversation to be had. On your last few bites you meet Simon's eyes as he reclines back in the creaky wooden chair, hands laying across his stomach. His head tips back with a satisfied grumble making a proud smile play across your lips. This may be the first time you've seen him express a true human emotion in your presence.

"There's more if you want?"

"No, I'm stuffed."

If you know one thing as a part time chef, food is the way to a man's heart. You knew if Simon tasted what you could make his ice exterior would melt away. You stand up and walk to the fridge.

"Too stuffed for dessert?" you pull out a glass bowl filled with layers of custard, strawberries, cake, and whipped cream. "I made a traditional English trifle. Y'know for the holidays coming up and who doesn't love custard?" you shrug while carrying the bowl over to the table. You hurry back to the kitchen to grab two saucers and plate up the dessert.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're trying to butter me up." he comments, intently watching as you carefully slice through the layers. "What do you know about English food?"

"Not much, which is why this is a special occasion. I can get some insight from a genuine Englishman," you slide the saucer to him. "Everything happens for a reason, I guess you were meant to be here tonight" you don’t realize how weird that comment is until it's already left your mouth. You suppress the feeling and internally cringe. You take a seat with your own plate and try a bite. "Hey, that's not too bad. I think Gordon Ramsey would be proud"

Simon actually chuckles when you compliment yourself making you giggle in return. This whole night is very different than you expected. Not that you were complaining.

Your leg bumps his underneath the narrow table. Your bare foot brushing up the edge of his pant leg for the briefest moment. A deep blush rises to your cheeks the second you realize it's his leg instead of the table's.

"Oh, sorry!" you quickly draw your legs underneath your chair. Simon pauses his eating and meets your gaze.

"S'alright," he slowly slides his long leg across the distance and nudges the shin of your tucked legs with the toe of his boot. "You scared?"

"What?" you allow your legs to relax, your calves sitting on either side of his outstretched leg. It felt natural, almost domestic. "You don't scare me." you're lying paired with an anxious laugh.

"No?" As he says this his foot shifts underneath the supports of your chair and yanks it forward causing your chair to skid a few inches across the tile, pressing you further into the table as you let you a surprised yelp. Hands brace against the edge of the table. Simon maintains his calm composure. "Are you sure?" he takes another bite of the fluffy dessert.

You weren't sure if it was the liquor going to your head or the rush of adrenaline but you felt bold. You rest your cheek on your propped up hand, offering the most innocent eyes you can muster, as you delicately slide your foot along the smooth leather of his boot. Simon swallows and gently places his fork back on the table.

"What do you think of it?" you question in a hushed tone. your foot travels further up his ankle, dipping under his pant leg to feel his hot skin underneath.

"It's sweet," He states simply but his words roll off his tongue smooth as butter.

"Not too sweet?" You tilt your head the slightest bit.

"Hm," he hums in contemplation. Your eyes drift down to watch his hands grasp his drink. He grips the glass in his large palm. The rolled sleeves of his long sleeve reveal the muscles in his arm shifting when he raises the glass to his mouth. For the first time you notice a faint raised scar cutting through the outer corner of his lip and stopping just shy of the edge of his nose. He takes a long swig of the brown liquid, not quite finishing the drink. As he pulls back his lips glisten in the warm light. "Not bad when it's paired with a stiff drink," his tongue is quick to swipe across, collecting the residue.

"I'll be sure to make a note of that." you smile sweetly. "Can I get you another drink?" You look down at the last sip coating the bottom of the glass. You make sure to flutter your lashes when you look back up at him.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" A smirk raises the corner of his mouth.

"No," you laugh. "Why, do you want me to?"

He releases a deep gravelly laugh that makes your stomach stir. Then he glances at his watch and your stomach drops.

"I need to get going." He mumbles. He pulls his leg away from yours and rises out of his chair.

"Wait," you rush to stand, almost knocking your seat over in the process. "Can I- uh- get you a bit of pasta to go? There’s plenty left" Trying to think of any excuse to keep him here a moment longer.

"S'okay, save it. Maybe I'll come by another time." He turns and steps out of your kitchen and into the hallway leading to your front door in only a few wide strides.

"Are you sure?" You don't intend for your voice to come out as needy as it does. You follow on his heels like a lost puppy.

"I've got an early morning." Before he reaches the door he turns, seemingly surprised by how close you are to him. He looks down at your big round eyes.

"Okay," you smile trying not to look defeated. "Well, you're welcome over anytime. I mean it, just knock and I'll probably be home. I'm gonna try writing at home more. Try to avoid that guy." You let out a halfhearted chuckle. "Maybe, you should get my number. Y'know, in case you want to check if I'm home."

"I'm alright, I'll just knock" His hand finds the doorknob. "Thanks for dinner, it was nice" Then he turns to go. Closing the door politely behind him.

You rush to the peephole, watching his distorted figure step out of sight followed by the sound of his own door shutting. You rest your hot forehead against the cool wood grain of your door.

You step back in the kitchen and begin putting away the leftovers. Piling the pasta into tupperware, rinsing the plates, collecting silverware. His glass remains in place with a sliver of scotch leftover. You hold the glass up in the light and see a faint smudge on its rim. You twist the cup around so your own mouth lines up with the imprint he left. You swallow the last bit slowly, savoring the way the sharp burn eases into a smooth, smoky aftertaste. You never liked scotch, but now you are starting to understand the meaning of an acquired taste.

The low atmospheric music is abruptly interrupted by an ad loudly cutting through the calm space. You rush into the living room to find the remote, hiding among the cushions and various throw pillows. Growing frustrated you end up walking over and manually hitting the power button. The silence that replaces it isn’t much better though. You step back and let your weak legs carry you until you collapse onto the comfort of your couch. The wine followed by the glass of scotch you polished off makes your head feel light but your limbs so heavy. You turn from your back to your side, realizing the used glass is still clutched in your hand.

You reach across the gap and set it down on the coffee table with a thud. Your hand retreats back to rest under your head. You stare at it, taking in all the imperfections left on its reflective surface. Your eyes trace the rim once again looking for the smudge. On the corner you see the shadow of an impression peeking out underneath the red lipstick mark you have smeared over it.

𝜗𝜚

Across the wall Simon falls back on his own couch. He looks around his dull apartment wondering what you have done differently to make your place look so welcoming. He never minded the minimal decorations he had. A photo frame with his team that his buddy gifted him and a couple of books always seemed like enough. After comparison though it just feels empty.

He can hear you stomp across your floor. Footstep rushing from the kitchen until you're straight ahead. The sound of your TV turning off bathes the room in sudden silence. Only thing he can hear now is the rushing of his air conditioning unit. He considered your music annoying but now he couldn’t deny the way it added an unconscious energy to the small unit. Now sitting here, the cool tone of the overhead kitchen light illuminating into the living room he feels as though something is missing. Maybe a nice lamp would help.

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@azkza @neurolept @contractedcriteria @hidden-treasures21 @sprokat @stark-red19

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley fic #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2

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rynwritesreid · 5 hours

Text

Rock my way| Spencer Reid

A/N: If any of you have good angst smut requests please send them over, of course only if you want too. I am getting through all the over requests. Love you guys

Summary: Maybe it’s fate, pure luck or just a simple coincidence. But after 10 years Spencer finds himself in the same city as you.

Content/warnings: Fluff. Smut. Fem!reader. 18+. Soft dom!Reid. Sub!reader. Munch!Reid. Oral (f!receiving). P in V. No mentions of contraception. Pet names (baby. Good girl. Sweet girl. Etc…) overstimulation.

Masterlist| requests are open| navigation

After a rather messy breakup, you found yourself eating alone at one of your favourite restaurants, which wasn’t unusual for you as you had really started to enjoy your own company. Once you had placed your order, you went back to people watching making up all different kinds of scenarios for everyone you laid your eyes upon.

As you moved on to a table that had five, very serious looking people sat around it, a familiar face caught your gaze. It had been roughly ten years since you saw that face, but it’s definitely Spencer Reid.

As you stared at Spencer Reid, trying to comprehend his presence, wanting to know what he was doing here, he suddenly looked up from his menu and met your gaze. You quickly looked away, hoping he hadn’t recognised you, because you had never really gotten over him.

A few moments passed before you dared to glance back at Spencer Reid. To your surprise, he was now standing up from his table and making his way over to where you were sitting.

"Hey," Spencer said, standing awkwardly in front of your table. "I can't believe it's you. How long has it been?" His voice was warm and familiar, and until this moment you had realised how much you had missed it.

"It's been too long, Spencer," you replied softly. "What are you doing here?"

Spencer pulled out a chair and sat down next to you, still wearing his signature cardigan. "I'm in town for a case," he explained. "But seeing you here is a pleasant surprise."

A waiter approached the table, and Spencer quickly ordered a coffee before turning his attention back to you. "I never thought I'd run into you like this," he admitted, his eyes searching yours.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, Spencer.” You admitted in a whispered tone, your heart racing at the unexpected reunion. Spencer's gaze softened, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed between the two of you.

"I've often wondered how you've been," Spencer confessed, his words tinged with emotion. "I never forgot about you."

“I never forgot about you, and if I am being honest with you, I have never stopped loving you.” you paused, the weight of your confession hanging in the air between you and Spencer. His eyes widened slightly, his expression a mix of surprise and longing. The background noise of the restaurant faded away as you waited for his response, unsure of what to expect after all this time.

Spencer reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing against yours on the table. "I never stopped loving you either," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "Meeting you here feels like fate giving us a second chance."

“Dr Spencer Reid is actually saying something is fate?” you let out a small giggle. Spencer chuckled, the sound bringing back a flood of memories. "Well, maybe not fate, but definitely a lucky coincidence," he replied with a smile.

“I’ve got to get back to my team, but he’s my hotel name, and my room number. If you’re free later, let me know, my number is still the same.” Spencer's voice was soft as he handed you a piece of paper with the details scribbled on it.

"Thank you, Spencer," you said, tucking the paper into your pocket. "I'll definitely get in touch."

You had messaged Spencer that you were free all evening, and that if he still wanted you were down to come to his hotel room.

As you nervously knocked on Spencer’s hotel room door, your heart raced with anticipation. The door slowly opened, revealing Spencer standing there with a small smile on his face.

“Pretty nice hotel room you’ve got here, Spencer.” You observed, trying to mask your nerves. The room was dimly lit, casting a soft glow over his features as he closed the door behind you.

"Thank you," Spencer replied, his gaze never leaving yours. "I wasn't sure if you would actually come." His vulnerability surprised you, reminding you of the depth of the connection you both shared.

"I couldn't stay away," you admitted, taking a step closer to him. “How long are you going to be here?” you asked, trying to avoid kissing the man you knew your heart belonged too.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. I guess until the case I am working on is finished.” Spencer smiled warmly at you; his eyes filled with affection.

And even if you wanted to, you couldn’t hold of the inevitable anymore, you were giving in to temptation and kissing him. Spencer's lips met yours in a rush of emotion and longing, the years apart melting away in that single moment.

Breaking away slightly, you looked into his eyes, seeing a mixture of desire and adoration reflected back at you. "I've missed this," Spencer whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

"I've missed you," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I've missed you too," Spencer said, his voice filled with sincerity, as he gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Just like you, Spencer hadn’t realised how much he had missed you until he had seen you again, and heard you voice again after all these years. You were his first proper submissive, and he had, just like you, always loved you.

With a sense of urgency, Spencer pulled you closer to him, his hand caressing your back, tracing the zipper on your dress. He had missed this; he had missed you. He had missed how reactive you were to his touch, how you looked at him, how you felt around him.

Just like second nature, his hand pulled down the zipper, allowing your dress to fall to the floor, and allowing him to see your body. Spencer took a step back, his eyes roaming over your exposed skin. A small gasp escaped his lips as he took in the lace lingerie you were wearing. "You're even more beautiful than I remember," he said, his voice hoarse with desire.

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks at his words, but you didn't look away from him. Instead, you reached behind you and unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the ground. Spencer's gaze darkened as he took in the sight of your bare breasts.

He stepped closer to you again, his hand reaching out to cup one of your breasts gently. A soft moan escaped your lips as he began to caress your nipple with his thumb. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your neck.

“I want to taste you,” he breathed against your skin.

"Yes, please," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. Spencer's lips found yours once again, his tongue exploring your mouth with a passion that took your breath away. His free hand slid down your body, tracing the curve of your waist before settling on the waistband of your lace panties.

“Now are you the good girl I remember?” he asked with a devilish smirk.

You nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence, all you could think about was him, his mouth, the way he use to take his time with you.

“That’s good to hear,” he paused, he just couldn’t get enough of you, “now be a good girl, take your panties off and lay on the bed with your legs wide open.”

Spencer watched as you obeyed his command, your movements slow and sultry. As you lay on the bed, your legs spread wide, his heart raced at the sight before him. He wanted to explore every inch of you, to make up for all the time they haven't spent together.

With a hunger in his eyes, he walked towards you, his hands itching to touch you. As he reached the bed, he knelt down between your legs, his fingertips lightly tracing the curve of your hip. You shivered slightly, the anticipation of his touch making your skin tingle.

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with desire, and said softly, "I've missed this, I've missed you." And then, without another word, he leaned in, his lips brushing against your skin as he began to explore every inch of you.

You moaned softly, your breath catching in your throat as his mouth moved lower, his tongue darting out to taste you. Your hips bucked slightly, a silent plea for more, and he answered by sliding a finger inside you, pumping it slowly as his mouth continued to explore.

The sensation was overwhelming, the sheer intensity of it all making your head spin. You arched your back, your hands clutching at the sheets as you felt the first waves of pleasure wash over you.

He slipped another finger inside you, stretching you slowly, his fingers moving in and out with a dedicated, rhythmic precision.

You were lost in the moment, your heart racing, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The pleasure building inside you was almost too much to bear, but Spencer's lips and fingers kept you on the edge.

As you neared the point of no return, Spencer increased the pace, his fingers thrusting deeper into you, and his mouth working its magic. Your body shivered, trembled, and then, without warning, you exploded, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Your screams filled the room, your body bucking wildly as the waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and spent.

You must have been unaware that Spencer had moved, and the fact he had gotten undressed. As you lay there, panting and still coming down from the incredible high of your orgasm, you felt a gentle hand tenderly caressing your cheek. You opened your eyes to find Spencer standing over you, his gaze locked on yours.

"You taste incredible," Spencer whispered.

He slowly climbed over your body, positioning himself between your legs.

“Spencer, I… I don’t think I can take anymore.” You said in a hushed tone.

“You can take it; you’ve done it before.” Spencer replied with a smirk.

He began to guide himself inside you, slowly at first, allowing your body to adjust to his size. You moaned softly, your hips bucking slightly in response to his touch.

“You’re so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me.” Spencer gasped, his breath hitching as he pushed deeper inside you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your nails digging into his back, urging him to move faster.

“Fuck me, Spencer. Fuck me hard.” You moaned, your voice filled with need and desire.

Spencer obliged, his thrusts becoming faster and harder, his hips pounding against you. You moaned with every thrust, your body writhing beneath his, your nails digging into his back, leaving trails of red marks.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "You're mine now, always have been. I've waited too long for this."

And with that, he thrust deeper, his hips moving in a rhythm that set your soul on fire. You felt him hit your sweet spot, “cum for me, you’ve done so well, my sweet girl, cum for me.”

You didn't know if you could take it anymore, but there was something about the way he looked at you, the way he talked to you, that made you want to give him everything. You felt his cock throb inside you, and your want for him grew stronger.

You arched your back, your nails digging into his back, your moans growing more pronounced. The sensation was overwhelming, every thrust deeper, harder, driving you to the edge.

“Spencer!” you gasped, your eyes locked on his, your voice breaking, your orgasm building.

He increased the pace, his hips pounding harder, his dick thrusting deeper with each movement. The pleasure washed over you like a tidal wave, your entire being shaking with the intensity of it all.

“Yes, that’s it, my perfect girl,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire.

As you reached the peak of your orgasm, you felt him begin to shake, his thrusts becoming erratic, his breaths ragged and hoarse.

You felt him tense, his entire body shuddering as he released inside you, filling you completely. He stopped moving, his body collapsed on top of you, his forehead resting against yours.

You stayed like that for a moment, both of you panting heavily, the aftermath of the intense fuck leaving you both breathless and spent.

"I've missed you so much," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, your heart swelling with love and happiness, knowing that this was just the beginning of something even more incredible than before.

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taotaoirl · 1 day

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toji malewife headcanons

this is my take on the malewife headcanons (written months ago)

tags: fluff, gender neutral reader, you guys are living together/married

i like to think that toji is the #1 malewife (even though it is likely just my delusions speaking!)

first and foremost, he is a great cook

just imagine toji in a white apron (tied around his slutty waist ofc)

he would wake up super early every morning just to make the both of you (and the kids) breakfast, which would likely be a traditional japanese breakfast (consisting of fish, rice, miso soup, and pickled vegetables)

on sundays, he would make you guys an english breakfast (consisting of eggs, bacon, tomato, mushrooms, toast and no baked beans bcs fuck baked beans)

reiterating the toji would-do-anything-for-you fushiguro agenda because he would even *attempt to make you all kinds of baked goods even though he always overbakes everything. and ofc you gotta gobble that burnt shit up telling him it was the best thing you've ever had

once again reiterating the toji would-do-anything-for-you fushiguro agenda: when he's not running from his responsibilities, he likes to cook you an elaborate meal at the end of the day and yes he does the dishes as well

after a long day of work, there is nothing better than coming home to a table set for two and a three-course meal prepared by toji fushiguro.

the set up is nothing too fancy, no decorations whatsoever, but the food is top notch

toji likes to sit at the end of the table, head slightly tilted on his hand, watching you eat the food he has carefully prepared for you. he doesn't say much, but you notice the way his eyes soften the moment you pick up your chopsticks and start eating

if you compliment his cooking, he will likely get flustered (though he doesn't show it). he will simply raise his eyebrows, look away and say that the kids helped too (the kids, in fact, did not help)

it is well-established that toji probably has pretty nasty hygiene, but it is also common knowledge that megumi's mom helped him get his shit together. so i like to think that as long as he has someone to depend on, he starts taking care of himself too. especially when he is handed the responsibility of taking care of his family- he will do everything he can to avoid falling back into his old habits (of ass hygiene)

if you are away for long hours/working/too tired, toji will step up and do all the cleaning for you- vacuuming, dusting, deep cleaning every room- whatever it is, you name it, he'll do it

he'll do it but it's gonna be a mediocre job at best. it's better than nothing though!

needless to say he's also quite good at fixing household items (basically a staple repairman husband)

once he's done will allat (he will speedrun that shit) he'll get back on the couch/bed, put an arm around your shoulder and enjoy his silence with you

#headcanons #jjk smut #jjk headcanons #jjk #jjk x you #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji zenin #jjk toji #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fluff #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen

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biolumien · 1 day

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hello!! I loved your rooftop smoke fic so much oh my goodness could I ask for literally anything hoshina I would love to read more of your works... It would make my day if hoshina fell first/if he was the one hopelessly in love but anything that is easier to write for you I would love to read

ALSO PLS FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS IF ITS NOT EXACTLY IT FOR U!!! TYSM IN ADVANCE

notes: bwahhhh omg… thank you for liking my first work… i havent written hoshina before… but uh. i hope this is good. same reader-insert from last time for this one too!

hoshina falls first (or tries not to, because to love is to be known)

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader i turned it into kind of a character study, forgive me word count: 1103

let’s get this right off the bat, to clear any misconceptions. hoshina’s not a romantic. he doesn’t fall for anyone first. he’s built up the demeanor of a sly, wily little fox not because he wanted to, but because he had to. tread lightly around others, and they will never know what lies in your heart, the insecurities that bubble and eat at you alive. never let them know how you feel, because as soon as your inherent, weak-willed intent is shown, you’ll be devoured alive.

well.

that’s what hoshina tells himself, anyway.

it’s what he has to remind himself of constantly when he sees you.

you’re not allowed, he reminds himself, to get under his skin. not in any mean way, not in the way where you play up his insecurities–except you do, don’t you? you don’t mean to, but he gets the impression that if he were conventionally stronger, more impressive, that he’d deserve your attention, the small smile that crosses your lips and lights up your eyes when you see him, the faint exhale of breath when you see him–he’d deserve that if he were better. if he were just simply better, he’d deserve it. he’d feel worthy of it.

hoshina’s not a romantic.

he signed up for a line of very dangerous, practically suicidal work knowing it might mean the death of him.

all to prove that he was worth something.

he’s not the ashes you throw away, he’s a brilliant ball of fire, can’t you see–but he needed to prove that he could shine alone, under his own merit. he didn’t need anyone, except he needed mina to get him into the third division anyway.

he didn’t need you, except he kept making excuses to get close to you, and not even in any particular suave way. hoshina practically pines for your affections and attention, but the key thing about it is that he refuses, in a way that’s either very cute or insanely frustrating, to make it seem like he’s making the first move. fleeting kisses he shared with you, he never properly initiated himself–he’d stand there, make a big show of leaving, and you’d pulled him by the collar to kiss him.

but at the very least you seem to be accommodating about it, in any case. you sometimes end up preparing him a cup of tea when you go on break, as if instinctually expecting him.

hoshina wonders if he’s pavlov’s dog in this case–drawn by you, trained to behave around you.

he doesn’t know how he feels about it.

“you keep coming here,” you say to him one day in the lab. at your desk is a wide variety of papers–notes on chemical formulas for bullets, the blueprints for one of mina’s new absurdly-large guns shoved haphazardly under a stack of notebooks, a coffee cup clasped between your hands, and you blow some of the fresh steam off. “i’m starting to think the captain’s going to find you slacking off.”

there’s a sardonic smile on your lips, but hoshina’s gotten better at reading you. you’re happy to see him–he can see it in the tiny way you fidget a little bit when he takes the spare coffee mug from your desk, finding it full of coffee already. does he feel his face softening, his drawn-up shoulders relaxing? no, surely not. he’s better than that. he won’t be influenced by you–and yet. and yet.

“you have a lock on your door if you don’t want to be disturbed,” hoshina says simply, taking a sip of the coffee. black with a single spoonful of sugar in it, because as much as it was impressive to drink your coffee purely black, hoshina quite frankly couldn’t take it. and he’d built as much a complex around that, too, as if a simple coffee preference might define how worthy he is of love. respect. the works. he watches you, sees dark under-eyes from days of restless work and the writer’s bump on your middle finger, and feels his heart squeeze.

god, he hates it. does he? does he hate it? is he insecure about that? does he hate that he doesn’t hate it? does he hate that by pining for you, by forcing his way into your life, that he’s created the rumblings of his own downfall? no. the worst part of it all is that he can’t hate you. can’t hate the way you watch him, and he wonders if you’re watching him the same way he observes you–like a prey animal, almost, twitchy and nervous, in an attempt to grasp at feeble understanding.

“if you keep coming back here, i’m going to assume you’re in love with me,” you say.

and you have no idea what those words do to him, really. you don’t know, because hoshina has learned to obscure most of his emotions, at the very least.

so why does his face feel so hot?

“hm.”

he can’t even come up with a proper retort. you’re staring at him expectantly, as if waiting for the classic hoshina quip–a cackle or giggle, a casual slap on the table with a you wish! attached to it. but it doesn’t come. hoshina stands there, gagged for a moment–and suddenly his grip on his coffee cup feels a little weak.

“hoshina.”

he wishes the smile on your lips didn’t trigger some gut instinct of delight in him.

he’s better than this, damn it. he’s better than this.

your smile quirks up the corners of your cheeks, and there’s something like a shy flush across your skin. and–

“i wish i could take a picture of your face right now,” you say. “you look like you’re coming down with something.”

hoshina scoffs, the sound a little more high-pitched than he’d like for it to be.

“you wish,” he says.

“so are you?” you press. “in love with me?”

hoshina stares at you–there’s a sudden tightness in your shoulders that wasn’t there before–you’re worried about his answer. and despite it all–his bravado, his hatred of the mere idea that he might rely on someone else–that he would ever need someone to know his heart, that he might be cowed and tamed like a dog–

he loves you.

he doesn’t want you to be worried about the surety of his answer.

“yeah,” he says. “i love you.” and when that sudden tightness in your body language disappears, he finally finds the strength to quip, “just don’t faint over me, alright?”

and when you reach out to hit his shoulder, he grasps you by the wrist and pulls you in to kiss you.

#kaiju no 8 #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #x reader #kn8 x reader #all the men i like i write them all the same. who else is there? haha. that's a secret surprise im saving for later

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whiskey-tango-matcha · 2 days

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Show & Tell (M, cold)

Mark & Matt are back! In this, Matt has an awful cold and they have a busy night. That's pretty much it lol, there's a good amount of ~drama~ because who doesn't love drama? This takes place a couple months after 'Three', when Matt and Mark are dating but haven't told Greyson or Elijah and I'll be honest I've spent a lot of time on it and don't know if I even like it lmao. I hope you guys do, though!! It might suck, who knows!! Also, there's no sick character POV - it switches between Mark and Greyson's POV.

Ok, onward. Let me know how you guys feel about it lol.

CW: Male snz, cold, contagion mention, coughing, fever.

Show & Tell

“It’s not that I don’t want them to know. You know that.”

Mark gave his boyfriend a sidelong look; did he know that? He wasn’t so sure. “Matt,” he said, treading carefully, “it’s been three months. They’re going to figure it out sooner or later.”

Matt sighed, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. “I know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… I mean, Greyson can be… I don’t know… touchy, I guess, about like, relationship stuff. Especially since the whole… Collin thing. And also, he can just be an asshole about dating within the kitchen. You remember when he caught us kissing.”

“Yeah, but I mean that’s just what you guys do, right? Poke fun at each other? And the Collin thing… That was, like, a year ago, Matt. He’s a grown man.”

There was a pause, then, and Mark knew he’d gone too far. Greyson and Matt’s relationship was way more than boss and employee; Greyson had taken a chance on Matt when no one else would. He’d given him opportunities that Matt couldn’t have dreamed of as a kid, and Matt was always quick to point that out when Mark grumbled about Greyson’s anger, or when he called Matt in on his day off, or the way he made fun of Matt making doe-eyes at Mark. Greyson has been there for me since the moment I met him, he always said. You have to take the good with the bad.

More often than not, Mark found himself rolling his eyes at this statement, or muttering Whatever, babe, under his breath, but he also didn’t want to push his new beau away. If Greyson was a weird non-participatory third in their burgeoning relationship… so be it. He’d put up with it, for Matt.

“Hey, I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean that; I know, you’re right, he’s been through it.” Mark pulled Matt in for a hug, making the other man soften. “I’m just saying,” Mark said, pulling away, “that if he doesn’t already know, he’s going to have to find out eventually. Right?”

Matt shrugged, then begrudgingly nodded. “You’re right, you’re right, just… I don’t know, give me a week. Let me take him out and actually tell him so it’s not just, like, a big joke that he parades through the kitchen. Okay?”

Mark smiled. “Okay. Yes, that works. Thank you, baby.” He swept Matt’s bangs off his face, allowed a frown to settle over his own. “You feel really warm. By the way.”

Without missing a beat, Matt pulled away and ducked into the sleeve of his hoodie. “Hh-! Hh’ITSZH-ue!”

“Bless you.”

“I’m okay,” Matt said in response. “Like I said before, I think it’s just allergies.”

“...Fever-inducing allergies?”

“Honey,” Matt said, pulling a hand down his face, “please drop it. We have like two hundred on the books tonight, it’s not like I could call out or anything.”

“So you feel badly enough to call out?” Mark asked, crossing his arms. Matt sighed, loudly enough for Mark to hear the congestion in his chest rattle.

“No,” Matt said. “I don’t.”

“Mmm.”

“Can we go back to arguing about me telling Greyson and Elijah we’re dating? I’d prefer that over getting the third degree about what is, at most, a cold,” Matt said, rubbing his nose on his sleeve. Mark raised an eyebrow.

“So now it’s a cold. Moments ago, you said it was allergies. What’s it going to be by the time you get to work? Bubonic plague?”

“I was thinking something a little more modern. Maybe scarlet fever. Hh- hh’ISHHH-uhh!” Matt crumpled to the side once again, and Mark sighed.

“Hilarious,” he said, deadpan. “You should take some dayquil, or something.”

“I’m okay, honey, really,” Matt said, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you this evening, okay?”

Mark hesitated; what would a good boyfriend do here? He assumed a good boyfriend would scoop Matt into his arms and place him in bed. A good boyfriend would call in for Matt – hell, call in for both of them so he could take care of his boyfriend – and tell Greyson and Elijah to figure it out, restaurant-be-damned. He’d spoon-feed Matt soup and they’d watch Criminal Minds and talk about who on the show was the most objectively fuckable and they’d fall asleep early and in the morning, Matt would be good as new.

But a good boyfriend would also tell their bosses they were dating; a good boyfriend wouldn’t put the onus on Matt to tell Greyson before Mark told Elijah because Greyson was an objectively harder person to tell. A good boyfriend wouldn’t give Matt shit for being nervous because him telling Greyson was akin to Mark telling his own father he was gay and fuck, Matt didn’t even have a father to tell, you asshole, you inconsiderate piece of shit.

He wasn’t a good boyfriend, that much he knew. So instead of manning up in any way whatsoever, Mark nodded and kissed Matt on his hot forehead. “See you tonight,” he said, and continued to kick himself as Matt trudged out the front door.

***

“They’ll tell us when they’re ready.”

Greyson rolled his eyes so hard that they felt like they might pop out of his head. “Oh c’mon, Lij, that’s such a cop-out,” he said, snapping inventory papers onto a clipboard and clicking a pen open and shut many more times than was necessary. “It’s been, what? Like almost four months since the whole making-out-in-my-bathroom incident? And it’s not like they’re good at hiding it, I think Matt slaps Mark’s ass fifty times a day.”

“Is that really new, though? You slap Matt’s ass fifty times a day,” Elijah said, glancing up from his own, much-better-organized inventory clipboard. “I thought ass-slapping was just par for the course in this kitchen. You’ve created a culture of ass-slapping.”

“That’s within the kitchen boundary, Lij,” Greyson said, his index finger and thumb pressed together and punctuating each word of this statement. “Mark is outside the kitchen boundary. The rules are different.”

Elijah snorted out a laugh. “My mistake,” he said, flipping the first page on his clipboard and examining the second. “I figured that culture extended to the whole restaurant.”

“Damn right your mistake,” Greyson muttered. He glanced back down at his papers, then tossed the clipboard on the desk and snatched Elijah’s out of his hand to toss as well.

“Dude,” Elijah said, “I was using that.”

“Do you think Matt’s scared to tell me?” Greyson asked, ignoring Elijah’s annoyance. “It’s not like I’d care. I mean, the whole thing makes sense, they spend seventy hours a week here together. It’s not like it’s easy to find someone to date outside this place, and trust me, it’s not like he’s missing out on anything in the regular world. Shit, if you were down, I’d start dating you.”

“I’d rather eat a jean jacket than date you,” Elijah said, leaning on an elbow on the desk. “And that’s not even because you don’t have my preferred equipment, it’s because of who you are. Fundamentally. As a person.”

“I just don’t understand why he wouldn’t just tell me,” Greyson said, ignoring Elijah’s statement outright. “Matt’s my dude. He’s my muse. He’s like if I had a kid, but didn’t have to do the gross horrible raising him part. He knows he can tell me anything.”

Elijah sighed, a heavy and resigned sound, and took the bait. “Grey,” he said, “yes, he knows he can tell you anything, but he also knows he’s going to get so much shit from you when he does tell you. I’m sure he’s just trying to spare himself the three weeks of jokes about the two of them dating. Maybe, if you could be serious for five fuckin’ minutes, you could approach him and ask him, hey, are you and Mark dating?” Elijah shrugged, both hands held in front of him as though to say just an idea.

Greyson scoffed, annoyed. “You’re one to talk. It’s not like Mark has told you.”

“Yeah, but Mark and I are coworkers. We don’t have some weird father/son codependent relationship like you two. Plus, Mark is only a talker when he drinks and he hasn’t had more than a glass of wine in front of me since they got together, so he knows I know he’s avoiding the conversation.” Elijah gave Greyson a pointed look then. “I’m sure he’s waiting for Matt to tell you. Dad.”

The chef rolled his eyes again and pushed himself to a standing position. “Fine,” he said. “I’m going to talk to him about it today. And I’ll be serious.”

“Great,” Elijah said, picking his clipboard back up. “I’m happy for both of you.”

Greyson placed a hand on Elijah’s shoulder as he walked out of the office and towards the prep kitchen, a gesture to thank him for the pep talk, and Elijah nodded in understanding. It wasn’t the fact that Matt had a not-so-well-kept secret that Greyson found troubling; it was the fact that he felt like he wasn’t able to tell his boss that hurt Greyson’s feelings. The chef got set up in the prep kitchen, pulled out his chef’s knife, and began sharpening it on his steel. He really thought he’d put it in Matt’s head that he could tell him anything. Apparently he’d been wrong.

As if summoned, Matt picked that exact moment to blow through the back kitchen doors – he was wearing a sweatshirt, despite the fact that it was unseasonably warm, and his hood was up. Greyson drew his eyebrows together, confused.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Greyson called from his prep station. Matt swung around, obviously not expecting to see his boss the moment he walked in, and his face immediately crumpled.

“Hh- hhNGTSHZ-ue!” Matt attempted to stifle a sneeze into his elbow, which backfired immediately. “ITSZZHH-ue! Hh’ITZCHH-ue! HRRSHH-ue!”

Greyson blinked, surprised, as his sous gave into the paroxysm. “Wow,” he said when Matt finally stood upright, clearing his throat. “Bless.”

Matt nodded, swallowed, winced. “Yeah. Thangks,” he said, his voice low and congested. He walked towards the prep station – slunk may have been the more appropriate word – and hoisted his knife bag onto the counter. The next few moves seemed robotic, as though the sous chef were on autopilot; push hoodie off head. Roll up sleeves. Unzip bag. Make eye contact with boss. “What ndeeds to get prepped first?”

Up close, Matt looked like an even bigger pile of hot garbage than he sounded; he was pale – sallow, Greyson thought to himself, then vocab word of the day -, his eyes red-rimmed and laden with bags. His breathing seemed painful, labored, and uneven, and before Greyson could say anything, Matt turned back to his rolled-up sleeve to cough. “Dude,” Greyson said, taking a step back.

“Sorry, sorry,” Matt muttered, getting himself together. He walked to the sink and washed his hands, then turned back to Greyson. “Better?”

“That wasn’t what I meant by ‘dude’,” Greyson said, taking a step towards his sous and slapping a hand on his forehead. “That was ‘dude’ as in ‘dude, you look like fucking shit’.”

Matt wiggled out from under Greyson’s hand, annoyed. “I’mb fine, Chef,” he said. “Tell mbe what needs to get done.”

Greyson rubbed his face and gathered his hair on top of his head, buying time. Obviously, the conversation about him and Mark was off the table for the moment, but were they not allowed to talk about Matt’s very obvious illness, either? “Did you take anything?” Greyson asked, ignoring his sous’ question with one of his own.

“I was running late. Also, I don’t ndeed anythi- ITTTSZZHH-ue! HRSHHH-uh!” Matt folded himself in half to avoid sneezing in Greyson’s face, and collapsed into a coughing fit from the force of them. Greyson pressed his lips together.

“Where’d you pick this shit up?” Greyson asked, patting Matt’s back as the younger man tried to compose himself. “You haven’t been out on the prowl with me in months, so I take no blame.”

It was an attempt – a very obvious one – to get Matt to admit he was at least seeing someone, but either Matt wasn’t taking the bait or he didn’t hear him over his own misery. He cleared his throat and stood to his full height. “Can we please just start cooking? I ndeed a distraction.”

Greyson pressed his lips together; somehow, they’d had a whole conversation without really saying anything, a whole back-and-forth with not one question answered. “Okay,” Greyson said, stepping to the side to let Matt get situated at the prep table. “I’m going to grab some shit from the walk-in. You get set up.”

Matt nodded, obviously grateful, and started setting up his things while Greyson turned towards the walk-in.

Well, he thought to himself, sarcastically. That was productive.

***

“Alright, everyone, so we have 245 on the books toni -”

“HhuhhhITSZHHH-ue! Huh-! HhhRRSHH-oo!”

The servers’ heads popped up from their notes in unison and turned towards the closed kitchen doors, ten yards away. Mark cringed; Elijah raised his eyebrows towards Greyson, and the Executive Chef sighed and stood. “I’m gonna go check and make sure he didn’t burst a blood vessel,” he joked, prompting a collective giggle from the servers. Mark felt his heart sink deep into the pit of his stomach.

At his apartment this morning, Matt had clearly been coming down with something. Since he’d arrived at work, it was clear that whatever it was had settled in nicely; Mark had only been at work for two hours, but in those he’d heard Matt sneeze more than he had the entirety of their relationship.

“Jesus,” Mark had said when he first saw Matt, doubled over behind the prep table. “That really went from zero to a hundred. I just saw you, like, four hours ago.”

Matt had attempted to clear his throat before addressing his boyfriend: “Yeah, I guess,” he said, pushing the sleeves of his hoodie down to his wrists and shivering. Mark wanted desperately to tell him to go lay down in a booth or something – better yet, to tell him to go home and go to bed – but he knew he couldn’t do either.

“Can I get you some tea?” he asked instead, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from feeling Matt’s face for fever. Matt shook his head.

“’M fine,” he managed, picking his knife back up and wiping his hands on the front of his apron. “’S just a stupid cold.”

That had been about as far as their conversation had gone; Mark had been whisked away by Elijah to help set the floor up, and Matt had been forced to put his head back down and continue prepping. Normally, Matt would’ve been in pre-shift with the rest of the team, but Greyson had explained when everyone sat down that he was attempting to gain his second wind in the office and wouldn’t be joining.

“Anyway,” Mark continued, addressing the servers while Greyson stood to check on Matt, “like I said: 245 on the books. We do have a few VIPs…”

The servers jotted down what they needed to, and Mark finished his speech on autopilot. Elijah said something about uniforms being cleaned and pressed, and Greyson came back to join them all after a minute or two spent in the kitchen. When pre-shift ended, Greyson stopped Mark from walking away with the rest of the front of house.

“Mark,” Greyson said as the servers went to eat family meal, “hold back a second.”

Mark could feel himself immediately break into a cold sweat; Greyson never wanted to talk to him after pre-shift. Had he fucked up somehow? He knew they were too busy – overbooked, really – but Elijah had approved it. Said they needed the extra covers, since they’d be closed for a week next month. Maybe Elijah hadn’t told Greyson he’d approved the overbooking? Maybe -

“Hey, I just – I wanted to talk to you about Matt,” Greyson said when the servers had all exited to the kitchen. Mark swallowed, his throat dry. Oh.

“What about him?” Mark asked, his heart beating in his temples. Greyson huffed out a little laugh.

“You guys are dating,” he said – not a question. A statement. Mark’s face flamed.

“Did he – have you guys talked?” he asked, feeling his throat close. Greyson shook his head, a smile blooming on his face.

“Nope,” he said, palming Mark’s shoulder. “But now we don’t need to. Elijah!” he called into the kitchen, and Mark felt himself fly into action. He stumbled in front of Greyson before the chef could walk through the kitchen doors.

“Chef,” he said, holding his arms out so Greyson couldn’t get by, “you can’t tell Matt that you know. Seriously, he’ll kill me, he – I mean, he wanted to tell you himself, he said he was going to, like, sit you down and tell you and -”

“Sit me down? He’s not breaking up with me to be with you, I’m so fuckin’ confused why you guys haven’t just told us, it’s not like it’s a big deal -”

“It’s a big deal to him,” Mark said, cutting Greyson off. “It’s a big deal to Matt. I think – fuck, I don’t know, Chef, I think it’s like… you’re his person he gets to tell. You know? And he’s not feeling well and we kind of argued about it this morning and… please,” Mark said, biting his cheek to keep from crying. “Please, Chef. Just… he’ll tell you. Just wait for him to tell you.”

Greyson closed his eyes and sighed. “Fine. Okay. I’ll wait till the end of the week,” he said, moving Mark’s arm to get into the kitchen. “But if he hasn’t said anything by then, I’m saying something.”

Mark just nodded, and let Greyson by. You fucking moron, he chided himself. You absolute asshole. You gave it away, Matt is going to be so fucking disappointed, you’re such a dick, you can’t even let him have this one fucking thing. You just have to fuck everything up somehow. What the fuck is wrong with you?

What the FUCK is wrong with you?

***

Greyson would have been hard-pressed to think of a more difficult service than this one was turning out to be.

It had started fine; the flow of the evening was laid out well, the first turn went off basically without a hitch. Matt was on middle, and had loaded up on every medicine the office pharmacy had to offer, so while he was a little… high, honestly, he was at least in good spirits and able to do his job.

“We doing okay back there, everyone?” Greyson asked, peeking past the board filled with tickets to acknowledge his cooks, and Matt.

“Yes, Chef,” they answered – all except Matt, who hooted as though Greyson was a singer asking his audience how everyone was feeling out there. Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing.

“Only two hundred covers to go!” Greyson shouted as the printer spat out yet another ticket. “Order in, two salmon, three pork.”

About sixty covers in, things began to turn; the servers began to slow down, sending their food in as fire-alls instead of coursed out. The bar became backed up, so Mark was taking bartop guest’s orders and ringing them all in at once, sending a huge wave of tickets in at once – annoying, sure, but something they could handle. But then, tickets stopped coming in altogether – first, for five minutes. Then seven. Then ten.

“Elijah!” Greyson called into the dining room, not caring if the guests heard. The GM ran in at the sound of his name. “The fuck is going on, dude? We have ZERO tickets on the board.”

Elijah winced. “Yeah,” he said, “everyone is camping. We have like thirty people waiting to sit.” Greyson blinked.

“You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not.”

“So you’re telling me, at least thirty people are going to sit down all at once. And order all at once.”

Elijah nodded, solemn. “I wish I wasn’t, but yes, Chef, that’s what I’m telling you.”

Of course, by the time the first set of guests got up and the second set sat down, they had a new problem: Matt.

It was seven o’clock; Matt had taken his last dose of medicine at four, and sitting around waiting on tickets to come rolling in again had stopped the flow of adrenaline. His misery seemed to have caught up with him completely just as the tickets started printing again.

“Order in,” Greyson called for the tenth time in three minutes, “a scallop, three filets, and a venison no dairy.”

“Heard, Che – HTSHH-uh!” Matt wrenched to the side to sneeze into the sleeve of his chef’s coat, an angry, grating sound that made the cooks wince. He coughed painfully into his shoulder, obviously trying to hold back. Greyson bit his cheek.

“Bless, Chef,” he called over the line, pulling yet another stream of tickets. “Christ… ok, guys, I’m going to read all these but let’s just focus on what I just called for now, these people… I mean, they’re going to have to wait.”

“Yes, Chef,” the cooks called – all except Matt. Instead of the goofy whoops from earlier in the evening, Matt responded by ducking beneath the line.

“HRRSHH! Huh-! Hh’ITZZHH-uh! NGTSHZZH-ue! Hh… hhhuh-ITZSHH-ue!” Matt covered his head with his arms, careful not to spray them, and sneezed into his lap until he sounded hoarse. Greyson could hear him attempt to sniffle, to no avail. He stood, shakily, and cleared his throat. “Heard, Chef,” he whispered, his voice hanging on by a thread.

Greyson pressed his lips together, feeling the temperature of his blood raising. God, this fucking kid – he should’ve stayed home, what good was it doing anyone having him here, sneezing himself hoarse, coughing til he was dizzy, probably infecting all the cooks and most likely over or under cooking all the fish. Greyson wanted to snap, Pull it together, but held back.

“Bless, Chef,” he called again, pointedly. Matt just nodded, dazed.

“Go ahead and call the ndext tickets, Chef,” Matt croaked. Greyson sighed, looked up, and yanked the tickets off the printer.

“Order in,” he said again, and again, and again.

***

The dining room was a fucking disaster.

Mark’s head felt like it was screwed on backwards; he could feel himself failing, and with every misstep he hated himself more. Can’t you put the tickets in right? Tracy asked you to help take the order for 32, have you gotten over there? This bar is filled with drinks, the hell are you doing?

If the dining room wasn’t bad enough, in the kitchen Greyson was clearly about to be sent straight over the edge.

“I need runners!” he called from expo, loud enough for everyone in the dining room to hear. Mark cringed, dropped what he was doing, and ran into the kitchen. The printer wouldn’t stop; the window was filled with plates, and the servers were tripping over themselves to get the food onto trays and out into the dining room.

“Mark! Take these, table 24,” Greyson said, pressing three scorching-hot plates into the floor manager’s hands. “And come right back, this fucking food is going to go bad in about three seconds. Order in!”

Mark took the food, dropped it, assessed the red marks on his hands and wrists and headed back to the kitchen. All of this would’ve been par for the course for a Saturday night, really, if not for -

“HTTSHH! HRRRSHH-uh! Hh’NGTTSZHH-ue!”

Matt.

The whole staff could tell he was fading fast. It was eight-thirty, and since about seven he hadn’t managed to go more than a couple minutes without collapsing into a fit of sneezes or coughs. His voice was completely gone at this point, and Mark could tell – even from ten feet away – that he had a pretty significant fever. All of this seemed to just further enrage Greyson.

“Chef,” Greyson called behind the line. “Get your third wind, I’m fucking dying up here I need this food out now! Order in, three salmon, two filets!”

“Yes, Chef,” Matt called, his voice so mangled Mark wasn’t sure how he’d even managed to get the words out. God, this was bad. This was so fucking bad.

***

There was no way they were going to get through all these tickets. There was just no fucking way.

It all felt like a nightmare at this point; Greyson was up to his elbows in tickets that just kept flowing. The food was dying in the windows, servers were grabbing shit that wasn’t theirs and fucking up what little flow they had going. Elijah was pouring free wine because ticket times were over forty minutes. And Matt was completely and totally stick-a-fork-in-him done.

At nine-fifteen, with twenty tickets on the board, Greyson looked up to ask his sous if table 55 was going to be up anytime soon; only to see Matt, caught in pre-sneeze torture with a knife in his right hand, moments away from splitting his left hand open.

“Matt!” Greyson screamed, and the sous chef snapped out of his daze and dropped the knife onto the cutting board. He gasped at the realization that he’d been millimeters away from maiming himself.

Enough is enough, Greyson thought to himself. “Mark!” he called into the dining room, not caring who could hear him. “Come and get your biohazard boyfriend and take him fucking home!”

The kitchen went completely silent. Matt blinked, clearly trying to unpack what he’d just heard, before wrenching to the side. “HHHITSZZHH-ue!”

Mark and Elijah burst into the kitchen then; tickets lined the board. Food lined the window. Matt was crouched down behind the line, and Greyson’s eyes were wild.

“Take him home,” Greyson said, making eye contact with Mark. “Or to urgent care. Or maybe straight to the cemetery. I don’t care where he goes, but he needs to get off my line.”

Mark nodded, and stepped behind the line to gather Matt, who slumped into his boyfriend’s arms. Greyson watched Mark hold Matt close, felt his chest contract when he heard his sous chef whisper, “Baby, I don’t feel good,” into his boyfriend’s chest.

“Go,” Greyson insisted. Mark helped Matt off the line, lead him into the office and pulled his hoodie over his chef’s coat, and walked him towards the back exit. Thank you, Mark mouthed to Greyson, who just nodded in response.

Once they were through the back doors, Elijah stepped forward. “Get back there and help them,” he said. “I’ll do expo. We’ll get through it.”

“We always do,” Greyson muttered, and pushed past his cooks to get to the middle of the line. “Alright: let’s land this fuckin’ bitch of a night in the harbor.”

***

The quiet calm of Matt’s apartment was in such direct opposition to the prior evening at work that Mark felt he might actually have whiplash.

The floor manager checked his phone for the tenth time since he’d woken up twenty minutes before. Elijah, via text, had filled him in about what happened after he and Matt left; it had been a shit show, but they’d gotten it done. There had been worse nights, Elijah said, though Mark couldn’t remember one. His boss let him know that he’d closed the restaurant for the day, to give everyone a well-deserved break. Thank God.

Greyson had texted both Mark and Matt apologizing for outing their relationship, and told Matt he could take as much time off as he needed – not that Matt had seen it yet. The sous chef had passed out the second his head hit the pillow the night previous, and he hadn’t stirred in over twelve hours.

Mark had responded to Greyson; it’s all good, Chef, though he wasn’t sure he really believed himself. He was glad that Greyson had told Mark to step up, to get Matt out and take care of him. But Matt… fuck, he was going to be upset when he woke up.

Speaking of which.

“Has anyone ever told you you text really loud?” Matt croaked quietly over Mark’s shoulder. Mark slammed his phone onto the bed and rolled over to face his boyfriend.

“No, I don’t think I’ve gotten that one before,” Mark said, caressing Matt’s face. Matt smiled, a little sadly. “How’re you feeling?”

“Mmm. Like hot fuckigg garbage,” Matt whispered, closing his eyes. “Tired. Shitty. Fuckigg embarrassed.”

Mark pressed his lips together; he wasn’t sure what to say. He settled on: “Can I make you some tea?”

Matt huffed out a little laugh that turned into a nasty-sounding cough. “In a mbinute,” he said, “I just wandt to lay with you for now.”

So they did. A silence fell over the two of them – Mark stroking Matt’s hot face, Matt with his eyes closed. After a few minutes, Matt opened his red, rheumy eyes. “So, he kndows.”

Mark felt his heart sink. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess he does.”

Silence surrounded them again. “I guess I should’ve kndown,” Matt said.

“I’m sorry,” Mark said. Matt smiled a little.

“You were right,” he teased. “You’re always right.”

“I’m rarely right,” Mark corrected. “But I think we made it pretty obvious.”

“Mmm,” Matt hummed again. A beat went by where neither of them said anything, until Matt’s body took over. “HHRSSHH-uhhh!” he sneezed, exhausted, into his hand and wiped it on the comforter. Mark couldn’t help but laugh.

“Bless you,” he said. Matt smiled, eyes closed.

“You’re gonna get so sigck,” he muttered, on the edge of sleep again already.

“Yeah,” Mark said, pressing a soft kiss onto his boyfriend’s lips. “That sounds accurate.”

Matt opened his eyes, slowly. “You kndow I love you. Right?”

A firework lodged itself into Mark’s aorta, blew his heart right to bits. “Really?” he asked, the wrong answer, but his first reaction all the same. Matt laughed in earnest.

“Really,” he said, closing his eyes again.

“I love you, Matt. God, I love you,” Mark said, kissing Matt’s lips again. “I’m sorry about last night. I love you. Thank you. I love you.”

Matt opened one eye this time, touched Mark’s face, and closed it again. “Thangk you,” he murmured. “’M gonna go back to sleep ndow. If that’s cool with you.”

“Go to sleep, baby,” Mark said, his heart so full he was sure it would burst. “I love you.”

And even though Matt was already snoring by the time he had said it again, he couldn’t seem to stop muttering it in time with his boyfriend’s snores. I love you. I love you. I love you.

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #snzblr #coldfic #male cold #male snz #contagion #coughing #fever #ugghhhhh do i like this??? idk. i think it might suck honestly LMAOOOO #whatever!!!! it's out there now sooooo there's that

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littlerat2 · 2 days

Text

"Is now a good time to tell you we're dating?"

Ship: Romantic Prinxiety

Warnings: Kissing. I think that's it but as always, please feel free to let me know if there's any I should add!

Word Count: 822

AO3: Currently unavailable, cause I'm posting this on my phone, and I have no clue how to post on AO3 on mobile, and I'm on a bit of a time crunch, but it should be available on AO3 in a few hours (unless I forget).

Summary: Just some fluffy Prinxiety I wrote very late at night. Probably a little OOC, but it was like, 4 AM, so shhh. Originally wasn't gonna post it, but my friends really liked it, and one threatened to eat my social security card if I didn't XD

Authors Note: Thank you so so so much to @logan-the-artist and @cats-soups for beta reading this fic!! And thank you guys for your kind words, and also for just like, being fuckin' awesome people!

Virgil awoke missing the warmth Roman provided. They’d spent the night cuddling and watching Disney movies, and Virgil had actually gotten some good sleep. But now his prince was gone. He wasn’t there to kiss the pinch out of Virgil’s browline, and play with his hair.

He wasn’t having it.

He got up to look for his prince, shivering as his feet touched the cold floor. He checked the time. It was ten AM, about two hours before he usually got up. He briefly considered going back to bed, but goddamnit, he missed Roman, and he wanted a kiss.

So he walked out of his room and down the stairs sleepily. He was met with Patton, who was tidying up in the kitchen, humming a happy little tune.

“Oh, hey there, kiddo! You’re up early!”

“Morning, Pat,” Virgil mumbled with a yawn. “Have you seen Roman?”

“He’s in the living room with Janus and Remus,” Patton smiled. “Logan might be in there, too. I’m not sure.”

“Thanks,” Virgil said, offering a sleepy smile as he walked towards the living room.

That was a problem. Roman and Virgil hadn’t told the others they were dating yet. Not for Roman’s lack of trying. He’d been ready to tell the others for a few weeks now, but Virgil insisted they wait just a little longer. He wasn’t sure why. He knew the others wouldn’t care, but that didn’t calm his nerves. Thankfully, Roman was being very patient. He said they’d tell the others when Virgil was ready.

Virgil wasn’t ready to tell the others, per say. He didn’t want to have that awkward conversation just yet. But he was ready to stop hiding. And he really wanted to kiss Roman’s stupid face.

Then it was settled. He’d decided. He was going to kiss Roman’s stupid face in front of everyone. And then, he wouldn’t have to hide the fact that he wanted to kiss his stupid face ever again.

He stepped into the living room. Janus and Remus were listening to Roman talk about a podcast about gay vampires Virgil had gotten him into. He waved his hands wildly with each passionate word.

Virgil loved how passionate he could get. He loved listening to him talk about his interests. And he loved that he got to share this interest with him. He loved how excited he was to share with Janus and Remus, just like Virgil had been with him.

He made eye contact with Roman. The way his expression softened, just enough for Virgil to notice, and no one else. Oh, it had him smitten.

He all but sprinted towards Roman. He stood on his tiptoes, pulling Roman down by the collar of his shirt. He pressed his lips to Roman’s, his heart pounding in the way it always did when they kissed.

He could feel Roman’s initial surprise fade into contentment, if the way he smiled against his lips was anything to go by. Virgil smiled too, as Roman wrapped his arms around his back, warm and gentle.

He could feel Janus’ and Remus’ eyes on him and Roman, but oddly enough, he didn’t quite care. All he really cared about right now was the lips under his, and the man they belonged to. They were addictive.

He wanted to remain ensnared by Roman’s mouth, but figured he should probably let the taller man return to his conversation. So he leaned against Roman’s chest with a content hum, enjoying his warmth for half a second before looking up at him. A smirk grew on the prince’s face, his eyes alight with mischief, trained on something behind Virgil.

He turned around, seeing Janus’ and Remus’ mouths agape, shock plastered on their faces, as well as Patton’s, who had emerged from where Virgil did just a moment ago.

Roman burst into bright laughter that made Virgil’s chest warm. “Is now a good time to tell you we’re dating?”

The other three just gaped at them for a moment longer, not saying anything even as Logan walked in, his brows furrowed in confusion at the scene.

“Would anyone like to explain why we’re staring at Roman and Virgil?” He asked.

Janus just sputtered for a moment, before giving up. Remus took this as an opportunity.

“I- you- Virgil is dating my brother?”

“You didn’t know?” Logan asked, and Virgil shot him a look.

“You knew?”

“I may be trash at social cues, Virgil, but even I have picked up on the smirks you two share during dinner and movie nights,” Logan deadpanned. “And, my room is right next to yours. You two keep me up all night talking. You aren't exactly quiet.”

Virgil winced lightly. “Sorry about that.”

“That's quite alright. It’s well worth it.” Logan smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling softly. “You two have seemed far happier than I've ever seen you. I'm glad.”

“Aw, thanks, Lo.” Virgil elbowed Logan softly.

“Of course.”

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deuxcherise · 2 days

Text

Cat Burglar

C/w: Unhealthy behavior, cat boy oc, yandere OC, yandere male, gender neutral reader, reader is a bit of a blank, fluff (?), mentions crime, mentions alcohol, includes cute cat pic for reference

A/n: So I had read that weasels are just like cats, especially when it comes to bringing back a hunt, and… I haven't written about a cat boy yet… That's like the first animal people usually write about… So now I did! And this is kind of a sequel to Weasel In. Enjoy~

Part 0, Part 1, Part 2 (you're here!)

You have made peace with the fact that you will never live a normal, peaceful life ever again. Not with how Eris had somehow weaseled his way into your everyday.

It was just… easier, really, letting Eris do what he wanted so long as he didn't take things too far. With your 9-5 customer service job taking its daily heavy toll off of your social battery, having to pretend 8 hours a weekday of being this peppy, happy-go-lucky person you aren’t so you can pay your bills. The economy isn't so kind to the average person after all.

“I'm really serious, (Y/n)! You should let me install some cameras!” Eris insists.

“For the last time, no,” you answer. “Aren't you watching over my house now?”

A redness appears on Eris's cheeks and he begins poking the tips of his fingers together. “Y-yeah… about that…”

You raise an eyebrow.

“I… I got a job! A high-paying one too! Actually, you should quit your job now and just let me take care of you!”

The heck? What happened to being a stay-at-home maid for you–not that you wanted him to! This is completely the opposite of what he proposed to you about a few weeks ago!

“No. What's with the change of mind all of a sudden? What job?” you ask.

Eris bites his lip and looks away. “Just thought it would be better…”

-----🔔-----

[Yesterday…]

“Really? And what did your ‘lover’ say?”

Eris slaps his buddy on the shoulder. “Quit it with the air quotes. (Y/n) loves me and I love (Y/n). I didn’t get rejected. It's only a matter of time before (Y/n) fully accepts me. I just need to… get rid of all those flies.”

“You mean customers?”

Eris slams his fists against the wood of the bar, shaking the iced alcohol in the cups next to them.

“Don’t you get it!? They're taking advantage of (Y/n)! I can't let them ruin (Y/n)’s life like this! Did you know (Y/n)’s losing weight nowadays? Not eating properly, not sleeping properly–I'm the worst! I need to speed things up or sooner or later… I'm going to…”

Eris covers his face and starts crying into his hands. His friend attempts to comfort Eris on the back, before an idea comes into his head. He says, “Why don't you get a job? If (Y/n)–”

Eris immediately pauses and raises his head to glare at him with vicious eyes.

“–Sorry, your lover. If you get a job, then your lover can see just how reliable you are, right? Some people are more into that.”

The light in Eris's eyes appears brightly, his face softening as he is enlightened. “That's–Oh, thank you, thank you, Ollie! I was right to come to you for help with my problems. You're the best!” he says, grabbing some dollar bills from his pocket and slamming his tip down for the bartender before leaving the club swiftly. “See you next time!”

The bartender swipes and pockets the money before resuming wiping the glass. She looks at her boss and raises an eyebrow. “You aren't going to stop him?”

Ollie smirks and takes a sip of his glass, raising a finger. A second later, Eris comes back in and sits back down next to Ollie with determination in his eyes. “Ollie–”

“Yeah. You can start tomorrow.”

“Really???”

“Yeah. Consider it a favor, as a trusted friend,” Ollie says, rolling the ice ball in his cup. “Now, what kind of job are you looking for?”

Eris thinks for a moment. “Need anything with security?”

Much to the bartender’s confusion, Ollie shrugs and says, “Alright. Bouncer it is. Dad was looking to retire anyway. 4pm on the dot. Shift ends at 10, when Lyn shows up to take over, 10:30 if you take a break.”

“Great! Anything else?”

“That's it for now. Your lover must be coming home soon, right?”

“Right! Okay! Thank you so much, Ollie. Owe you one! Bye! See you tomorrow!”

Ollie raises his glass as Eris once again exits the club. The bartender gives her boss an incredulous look. “Sir, with all due respect, Mr. Eris is…”

Ollie chuckles. “Ah. Well, you've only just met him. Back in the day, when it was just the two of us against the world, I was the brains and he was the brawn. Completely unstoppable…” he sighs, placing his cup down with a little more force than expected. “What kind of person do you think (Y/n) is to turn someone like him into such a pathetic simp?”

“... Who knows?” the bartender answers.

“... Tch.”

-----🔔-----

For the first time in a very long while, you went to bed by yourself.

…..

You had wished him good luck on his new job, which he took as immense praise. You were honestly pretty happy for him. Now he'll be too busy to commit crimes. Maybe he might even be too busy to bother you!

…..

It wasn't like… you missed Eris, in fact this is better for the both of you! You aren't even lovers or anything like that!

…..

It's just that… you may have… accidentally… gotten used to the way Eris's head curled up under your chin, the ways his arms wrapped around your torso, the way his legs tangled with yours, and how he'd sometimes murmur stupid things like, “I love you” or “Marry me” in his sleep.

…..

Whatever! You roll and face to the other side of your bed that strangely feels a lot bigger than you remember. You squeeze your eyes tightly, trying to will yourself to sleep.

Creeeaaaak.

You quickly sit up straight, expecting to see Eris when instead you face some stranger, glaring down at you with illuminated eyes.

Next thing you know, the stranger has you back down on your bed with an iron grip wrapped around your throat. Tight enough to be uncomfortable but not enough to cut off your air supply.

“Huh… I don't understand what he sees in you.”

“W-who?” you croak, grabbing at their arm.

The intruder narrows his cat-like eyes at you, pupils moving erratically as they scrutinize you. “I could so easily kill you right now…” he spits, before letting go of your neck, “but I won't. Only because Eris is my friend.”

The moment he lets go, grab your neck and massage the forming bruise, inhaling all of the air you can get as you absorb the situation.

Eris?? Oh great! He's not here to snugg–be your hugging pillow as per usual, and now a friend of his came all the here who knows where to threaten you? For being associated with him? Great. You're glad at least this one isn't strangely fascinated by you. It's a nice change of pace from the usual…

Ollie is somehow strangely fascinated by you. You're more quiet and lackluster than Eris had described you to be, like right now probably lost in your thoughts. Are you really Eris’s type? Eris, the type of person who just chases and strikes whenever and whoever he pleases? You don't look afraid of him at all, and it pisses him off. What's with that blank face of yours, huh??

The intruder looks pissed off for some reason, with how narrow his eyes are and the way he hisses under his breath. You try to think of words to say to the intruder, only for your stomach to make its announcement with a grumble.

“You want something to eat?” you ask, nonchalantly.

“.....”

You don't wait for him to answer as you flip off the blanket and head out of the bedroom.

“Oi! Wait a second! How dare you walk away from me!”

You pay him no mind and open up the fridge, revealing a few plastic-covered dishes made by Eris for you to eat over a span of several days. You ignore the pang in your chest as you grab one of them out that had rice in it to reheat a portion of it in a bowl in the microwave.

Ollie stands a distance from you, brows furrowed at how ridiculous this situation is. A stranger just broke into your home, without a key, and you're here just offering to feed him? What the fuck…

As you wait for the microwave to finish, you suddenly feel nostalgic about how you met Eris.

It was a few months ago, when he broke into your apartment the first time. You had been very afraid when you discovered him at that time, shrieking at him and threatening to call the police, before your rumbling tummy decided to add some unneeded humor to the situation. Too tired and famished, you had no choice but to let Eris feed you some food he had been making.

Ding!

You sigh, taking out the bowl of Eris's home cooking and settling down on the couch with a pair of chopsticks before munching on it.

The audacity. Didn't you offer him a bite earlier? Wasn’t that bowl meant for him? Why are you eating it by yourself!? Ollie heads over to the couch and hisses at you before he snatches the bowl from your hands.

“Excuse me??” you snap.

“Hmph!” He takes the chopsticks and starts shoveling down the rice and toppings, much to your horror. Once he's licked it completely clean, he throws it onto the ground without much concern.

You stand up. “Hey! What the heck are you doing? Don't just throw stuff on the ground! No manners, tch.”

You were less angry about the bowl and more about the fact that he ate Eris's homecooking before you go to today. How dare he??

Ollie flinches, having not expected your voice to reach as loud as it did. He watches you walk past him, crouch down, and pick up the unbroken bowl and pair of chopsticks to put in the sink. Your face is visibly angry, different from your blank face and nonchalant attitude earlier.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

As you're washing the bowl and chopsticks to reuse and get some more of Eris's cooking, Ollie eyes a photo on the coffee table in front of the couch. It's a picture of a child version of you and two adults, presumably your parents.

He smirks.

When you had turned around to look at him, you found him missing with a window open. Oh, the guy has finally left. You quickly close the window, taking relief that the weird guy has finally left. As you make yourself comfortable on the couch again with a new reheated bowl of rice, you look towards your coffee table–

Oh heck no...

38 notes · View notes

zedwards · 2 days

Text

that which remains unsaid…

workaholic bf x male reader

word count: ~1.0k

genre: angst(?), fluff(?), slice-of-life

author’s note: this was based on plucholy’s accountant/office worker oc. plucholy is an 18+ artist, so minors should NOT interact with his page.

feedback/interactions are appreciated! helps me keep motivation alive ^_^

archie sits at his desk, flipping through various documents piled up on his desk. he pores over the numbers over and over again, wracking his brain to come up with a way to increase the projected profit for the department he manages at work.

he’s been crunching numbers all week trying to balance budgets and get the sales projections to go a certain way that would boost the department’s output, but the prospects are not looking good.

it doesn’t help that a lot is riding on his ability to pull this off, and if he fails to do so, his boss will never let him hear the end of if it. not to mention the board will most definitely be on his…

…his uh…

…his concentration is momentarily interrupted by a gentle knock on his at-home office door. you poke your head in cautiously, your eyes adjusting to the dark room. his face is illuminated by the screen of his laptop, a glare of which can be seen reflected on his glasses.

steeling yourself, you clear your throat before speaking up. “archie…?”

archie glances at you briefly over his glasses before turning back to his documents. he mutters a terse “yeah?” in lieu of a response.

“sorry to bother you, i just wanted to make sure you’re okay and that you’re taking care of yourself… drinking water and all that.”

he doesn’t so much as spare you a glance. “i’ll drink some water when i’m done with this. now is not the time.” he dismisses your concern with little more than a click of his mouse. the cold attitude hurts a little, but you try not to take it personally.

“ah, okay… is there anything i can do for you?”

archie eyes you with some disdain. he lets out a frustrated sigh, letting the arm that was previously propping his head up drop on the desk with perhaps a bit too much force to be considered passive. “don’t you think i’d ask you if i needed something? leave me to my work. i’m trying to meet a deadline.”

okay, that one stings. you know it’s only because he’s stressed about work, but still... you have to repress the urge to sigh. sometimes reminding yourself that it’s just his work-related frustration manifesting itself doesn’t reassure you as much as you’d like it to.

rubbing the back of your neck, your ears burn in embarrassment as you weigh your options. you don’t want to test his patience, but not making sure he’s taking care of himself just isn’t an option. ultimately, you figure if he’s gonna keep working like this, he should at the very least get some food in his system.

“alright then, um… i’m gonna order some takeout, you want anything?”

“no. do what you want.” another curt response. his voice remains sharp, uncaring, and dismissive as he glares back down at his documents.

“okay,” you reluctantly concede. “let me know if you change your mind…”

“i won’t. now leave me alone.”

you wince at his harsh words. if it were anyone else, you would have probably gotten fed up and snapped at them by now. but this is your boyfriend after all. you know him better than to think that pushing the issue would amount to anything other than more frustration for the both of you.

you decide to take the path of least resistance and slowly back out of the room. just before you close the door, however, you poke your head in one more time.

“i love you…” at this, archie pauses. his eyes soften as he sits upright, finally making eye contact with you.

“i love you too, honey. just…” he sucks in a tense breath of air through his teeth. you can see his exposed chest rise and fall almost theatrically beneath his unbuttoned shirt as he sighs. “just leave me alone, alright?”

you give a thoughtful nod, carefully closing the door to make as little noise possible.

archie sighs deeply, rubbing his temples. despite being very cold with you just now, he feels himself soften after the exchange. he takes a moment to re-collect himself, then gets back to work.

archie doesn’t emerge from his office until well past midnight, after you’ve long since retired to bed. he enters the kitchen to make something quick to eat, but stops in his tracks the moment he turns the corner. there, sitting expectantly on the counter, is a box of chinese takeout with a note taped to the side.

"i know you asked me not to, but you know me, always the worrier... i got you your favorite. enjoy :)"

archie sighs. shaking his head at the note with a soft smile creeping up on his face, he takes a seat to eat his food. Archie finishes off his portion and puts the leftovers away in the fridge, and then does a quick sweep of the kitchen to tidy up before he heads off to the bedroom.

sure enough when he enters the bedroom, you've already long since fallen asleep, breathing softly with just your head poking out from under the covers.

he stands there for a moment, unable to tear his eyes away from your peacefully sleeping form. eventually he approaches the bed and begins to silently remove his clothes, careful not to disturb you.

down to just his boxers, he gently slips into bed, not wanting to startle you. once under the covers, archie reaches over to wrap his arms around you, gently pulling you close.

you shift a little in your sleep, unconsciously chasing the warmth of your boyfriend's embrace, at which archie chuckles to himself. nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck from behind, he closes his eyes, and allows himself to drift off, comforted by the all too familiar scent of his beloved.

#male reader #mlm #oc x male reader #damn how do you tag things that dont have a fandom lmao #mlm yearning #oneshot #also #hurt/comfort #i think??#angst

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captain039 · 2 days

Text

Predator grounds (Cooper Howard)

Alpha!Cooper Howard (pre-war)x omega!reader

Warnings: AOB dynamics, vault tech things, forced heats/ruts, eventual smut, age gap, angst? Experiments, needles, drugs

Omega forcer a chemical injected in the blood stream to induce a heat

Alpha forcer a chemical injected into the blood stream to induce a rut

Swear I’ll continue Wasteland heat. Later xD

Cheery music wakes you up, the happy song much too loud for you to be waking up.

“Good morning Vault 18” a voice feminine calls and you groan at it. Your head pounds your body hurts and it’s overly hot. Wait. Vault?

Your eyes open staring at a cream coloured painted steel ceiling, you take a small breath like you forgot to breathe and get hit with alpha in rut. You sit up quickly ignoring the way the room spins momentarily and who you see isn’t who you expect. Cooper Howard an actor you work for is sitting on the other side of the room knees up, arms on his knees and his head down. He’s wearing one of those silly vault suits.

“Mr Howard?” You call and he snaps his head up before the speaker rings.

“By now you’ve all probably woken up and wondering what is happening!” The woman’s voice is too cheery, to overly happy for whatever shit show this so. You rest your hands on your stomach feeling it clenching and unclenching.

“Let me formally welcome you to vault 18, our most successfully built breeding station!” Her words make you freeze, breeding station?

“You’ve all been injected with the respective alpha and omega forcers! You’ve been asleep for 200 years! and now it’s time to repopulate the earth!” She laughs happily like a giggly child while your face goes blank as does your mind.

Frozen? For 200 years? Omega and alpha forcers?

“Wait-“ you mutter glancing to Mr Howard who hasn’t moved from his position.

Your mind reels back, back to when you were walking home one late evening and you got a call from vault tech before someone knocked you out. You’ve been out for 200 years?!

You were leaving set later than usual, Mr Howard had stayed behind to and you chatted a bit while you finished paper work and what not. It’d been nice having the older alpha around his scent was a calming mix of honey whiskey and those alpha undertones. You’d always had a crush on him, his cheeky smiles and winks but you think he saw you more as a daughter than anything, a role model to his real child Janey from a previous marriage. Maybe he just enjoyed a woman’s company. And now he was currently sitting in the same vault room with you induced in a rut and you in heat.

“Breakfast is coming soon! Enjoy!” The woman’s cuts off and the soft music resumes. You glance to the alpha hells his scent is everything intoxicating and inviting at once. You’re also in a vault suit, blue and yellow, zipped up. The windows have been covered by curtains. You hesitate but slowly stand and move them back slightly. You suck in a breath seeing across the vault hallway another room, curtains not drawn and a couple on the kitchen counter, her face down with him behind. You close the curtains quickly cheeks a flame.

“I figured you wouldn’t want to see that, so I closed them” Coopers voice reaches your ears, he sounds tired and a little rougher than normal.

“Mr Howard-“ you say but don’t know how to finish.

“I won’t touch you” he says and it sounds strained almost making you gulp. The thought makes you sadden that he wouldn’t touch you, you knew he was a man of his word, but it didn’t hurt any less.

“This’ll be over in a week, that’s how long my heats last so, um, maybe I’ll just sleep in the tub?” You try to rationalise, you glance around at the kitchen, dining table and lounge all set up neatly. You remember seeing these types of rooms in vault 4 when Cooper Howard was doing a shoot in there.

“You’re not going to sleep on the tub” he gives you a stern look his voice annoyed before his face softens.

“Sorry sweetheart, we’ve been asleep for 200 years and then thrown into this” the pet name makes you tense, he always had pet names for you.

“It’s ok, I understand, I don’t understand this, but I understand your feelings” you babble out and curse yourself silently before a noise makes you jolt.

“Breakfast!” A man says as he slides a tray through the food hole in the door. You go over first when Cooper gestures to it and take the plate.

“You’ve got snacks already stored up in the cupboards and fridge, but you’ll get three fresh meals a day brought to you!” He says it so happily like he isn’t affected by the pheromones flying everywhere. Cooper takes his tray once you retreat to the other side of the room.

You eat and place the tray by the kitchen sink before retreating to the opposite end of them room. It’s hard to sit still, luckily you’re sort of hiding behind the double bed, two pillows under you. You squirm and try to press your thighs together, it’s hard to focus on not crawling across the room and forcing him to do something. You’d hate yourself if you did that, he’d hate you too and the last thing you want is for him to hate you. You wondered if you were lucky to get placed with someone you knew, someone gentlemanly, kind and compassionate, not like the couple across from you. Thankfully these Vaults are sound proof, you remember Cooper saying that in an advertisement. You sneak a peak at the alpha who stares at his plate, gosh he’s probably missing his little Janey and probably his wife even if they’re separated. He shouldn’t be here stuck in a room both induced with forcers. You glance around the room, a normal vault room set up, maybe there’s some paper and pens you could huddle into your corner to doodle on. What you really want is a shower and he is on the side of the shower near the door. You glance between him and the bathroom a few times wondering if you could just run in, slam the door shut and bathe.

“Mr Howard?” You speak up and his eyes snap to yours like you startled him again.

“Sorry, I uh I’d like to shower?” You say and he frowns probably wondering why you’re asking him.

“Oh, yeah of course” he realises your dilemma and stands to move. He shuffles out the way and you practically run into the bathroom and slam the door shut before sagging and sighing. You glance down at the door realising there is no handle, it’s just a swinging piece of metal on hinges. You back away from the door and it slowly moves open making you curse it. You press it close so it hits the frame but it just keeps opening. You gather some towels to force the door to stay shut and sigh turning the fan on and the water on. You tug off your suit, white singlet and underwear before glancing hesitantly at the mirror. You take a small breath and look. You haven’t changed, not a bit, nothings different, you’re not older, withered, hell you probably look healthier. You glance at your body seeing the same no changes before you step into the shower. You sigh in contentment as soon as the warm spray hits you, you hum and close your eyes this is, quite literally the first shower you’ve had in two hundred years. There’s only unscented shampoo, condition and soap, making you miss the fancy soaps you had bought before all this. There’s a toothbrush and toothpaste in the cabinet under the sink after you shower. You brush your teeth while you dry off before grabbing a towel to dry yourself off properly. You curse yourself inwardly, you forgot a new pair of clothes. You gulp, move the towels and turn the fav off before peering out the door.

“Mr Howard?” You call.

“I um, I forgot clothes, could you grab me some? Please?” You press your head against the wall hearing him shuffle, open a drawer and close it before his footsteps come over. You back up from the door forgetting it doesn’t stay closed. Cooper lays the clothes down in front of the door avoiding looking at you and walks away. You let go of the breath you were holding and snag the clothes up and force the towels to hold the door again, this was going to be torture.

#Predator grounds #x reader #aob #fallout tv series #cooper howard x reader #cooper Howard pre war #vaults

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i-care-4u · 2 days

Text

QUIT | J. FÉLIX

PAIR: JOÃO FÉLIX X FEM!READER

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED | MASTERLIST

you loved joão the way he loved his past lover. from the first time dating joão, you couldn’t help but to feel lucky that you’re in a relationship with the rising star. however, it wasn’t the same case with joão. in simple terms, you were just his rebound.

during the course of your relationship, joão would think about his past relationship with his ex. everything reminded him of her where even doing the simplest tasks like going to the grocery store was a sign that he just misses her presence.

your friends noticed the body language between you and joão. while you were being too attached to him by resting your head on his shoulder, he wouldn’t lay an eye on you. rather, he would think about his ex, and a memory involving a moment like this.

you remembered the conversation you had the next day with your friend.

your friend, clara, argued, “y/n baby, that man didn’t even laid an eye on you.”

you were feeding into your delusions, believing that joão loves you, “maybe he’s just tired, okay?”

“tired? he was very much outgoing when i saw him with his friends while you were asleep on the couch,” clara sighed, “y/n, i don’t care about his status, but you can do better.”

“i can’t.”

you were well aware of the people’s opinion of you. when the internet found out that you and joão were dating, people began comparing you to his ex, where you were considered the “better” girlfriend. of course, you didn’t liked being compared to his ex, who had a history of cheating. joão had been cheated on a couple of times, therefore making you feel bad for him.

“what do you mean you can’t?”

you repeated, “i can’t let him go like that.”

clara looks at you, “y/n, isn’t it obvious? joão hasn’t moved on.”

that sentence was engraved in your head for the next month and forward.

there was a thing that people say: your first love is unforgettable.

as predicted, you and joão broke up the following month. around this time was when his ex came back to the city.

you had a hard time ignoring the interactions between joão and his ex. you were upset that he came back to her after what she did, but you were so defensive of joão, who will experience heartbreak once more.

everyday, you come on instagram to check up on joão to see what he’s up to. in recent events, he was seen hanging out with his now girlfriend at a nearby restaurant. that girlfriend being the same one that cheated on him months prior.

“he’s with her again?” your friend, isabel, looked at the picture of joão and the girl. you knew who she was talking about instantly.

“yeah…” your voice softened, sensing insecurity.

isabel puts her phone on the coffee table.

you sighed, “i just don’t get why he came back to her after everything she did. i just want to see him happy.”

“i know you want to see him thrive again, and it’s not your fault that he went back to his old ways. there’s going to be someone else that’ll truly love you.”

isabel was right, and you knew that. however, you were constantly reminded about the things you and joão did during the course of your relationship.

as days turned into months, you couldn’t help but to continue to view how joão was doing online. he seems perfectly fine, according to his posts on instagram. the more you scrolled down, the more you realized that you could’ve been there. spanish grand prix? that was your idea. miami, florida? that was originally a trip you planned with him.

you couldn’t help but to tear up. as you set your phone down, you thought about everything that is going on in your life. you keep agreeing with your friends telling you to move on, but the process was hard for you.

you flew to barcelona with clara and isabel, where you three were going to stay for a week.

the third day, you three attended the fc barcelona game. you were a fan since childhood, and you were overjoyed at the fact that you’re finally seeing your team live.

“i can’t wait to see pedri play,” isabel looked at the field where all the players are standing.

some big names showed up on the lineup. lewandowski, pedri, de jong, gavi, but one of them stood out to you. as you paid close attention to the player’s face, you felt disbelief. the number 14 jersey belonged to someone that you used to know. that face looked familiar, as it belonged to joão félix. joão, the one who dreamed about playing for fc barcelona. and it was the same joão who had left you for his cheating ex.

“oh…” you didn’t know what to say. rather than saying something about joão to your friends, you instead kept it to yourself.

however, joão is an important part of your love life. of course, your friends brought it up.

“félix is playing for barça now?” clara asked you and isabel.

you avoided clara’s question and remained focused on the field. meanwhile, isabel nods, “yeah.”

they both turn to face you. as you see their eyes staring at you, you chose to ignore them.

isabel pats your shoulder, “hey, i know joão is in the same place right now and if you want, we can leave the stadium and go explore other parts of the city, no?”

focusing on the game, you didn’t want to exit the game. it didn’t even hit half time yet. “no, i’m good where i’m at. i don’t want to waste any of our money because of him.”

after the game, everyone including the three of you, started exiting the stadium. as you were on your way out of the seats, a pair of eyes looked at you. you ignored what was going on in the background and ignored that joão was playing for your childhood team for now.

on the field, joão was ready to end the night. he was giving hand shakes to the opposing team, and entered the locker room before leaving the stadium for today.

in the locker room, joão couldn’t stop thinking about what could’ve possibly been you in that audience.

“you’ve been quiet today joão. what’s up?” ferran sat down next to him.

“i saw her. she was with her friends just now.”

“joão, you need to leave her, she’s no good for you. are you aware on how many times she has cheated on you?”

“it’s not about her. it’s another girl.” joão sighed.

“please don’t tell me. y/n?”

joão nodded silently, his thoughts racing. maybe ferran was right: he needed to move on from his past, the cycle of grief and longing. however, facing reality proved more difficult than he had anticipated. ferran placed a hand on joão's shoulder, conveying concern. "joão, you should let go. you can't keep clutching onto something that isn't meant to be. i’ve seen the body language between you two, and turns out, it’s not meant to be.”

listening to ferran's words, joão rather ignored him. instead, he decides to navigate the crowds of barcelona. glancing around, he noticed a familiar woman standing in the crowd, her presence both comfortable and alarming. it was you.

time appeared to stand still as their gazes locked, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering feelings. joão experienced contradictory emotions, including longing, remorse, and hope for the future. joão approached you with confidence and a fast heartbeat. "y/n," he said softly, his voice full of apprehension. you were surprised and concerned. "joão," you replied softly.

you and joão were struck by the shared history and feelings while standing in the city center. It was as if time had folded in on itself, forcing you guys to confront memories from their past. joão interpreted your eyes as a reflection of his own sadness and longing. he wanted to reach out and bridge the gap between you and him, but he wasn't sure if he had the right to beg for forgiveness.

you were also suffering with your own inner turmoil, torn between the sorrow of the past and the light of hope in your heart. you hoped joão had changed and was ready to go forward, but feared disappointment. joão broke the silence with a mumbled plea. "y/n, i understand i made mistakes, but i want to make things right. i want to show you that i've changed and that i'm no longer the same person i was before."

as joão's comments hung in the air, you felt a knot in your gut, hanging down like a heavy load from your shared history. you wanted to believe him, trusting his good intentions, but you knew some wounds were too deep to repair. your voice was trembling with emotion. "joão, i've seen you repeatedly go back to her, not once, but three times, and i won't accept it. i cannot be seen with someone who has not been healed from their past relationship."

your statements broke joão and revealed the brutal reality of their situation. he wanted to protest and beg you to give him another chance, but he knew it would only exacerbate his impending sorrow. joão bowed deeply, burdened by his wordless regret. he realized he had lost you not only now, but possibly forever.

“as much as i love you, all i can tell you is good luck finding someone.”

as you turned away, your footsteps echoing in the deserted streets, joão was left alone with his thoughts, grappling with the bitter taste of regret and haunting echoes of what may have happened.

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