#maybe i need to be less in touch with emotions after all

[delusionalwritingsofagay]

Late Night Shift

Pairing : Buck x Male nurse Reader Fandom : 911 Tags: Established relationship, softness, soft buck, domestic buck Word count: 1225 Summary : Buck visits his nurse boyfriend on the night shift and brings him dinner

The enticing aroma of garlic, oregano, and bubbling mozzarella clung to every corner of Buck’s loft, chasing away the usual scent of gym socks and vaguely-stale takeout containers. It was a blessed day off, a rare occasion amidst the unpredictable chaos that defined life as a firefighter. And Buck was determined to make the most of it, focusing all his energy on one goal making Y/N’s upcoming night shift a little brighter.

Y/N worked his ass off as a nurse over at County General. Buck admired the hell out of him for it. Firefighting was a rush, yeah, but what Y/N dealt with, the long hours and constant emotional toll...it was a different kind of hero stuff. Their schedules were a nightmare, a frantic game of tag with stolen moments. A quick breakfast before Y/N crashed after a shift, maybe a hurried lunch down the block from the firehouse if Buck got lucky, or just a late-night phone call squeezed between patients. Not exactly ideal date nights, but they made it work. Tonight, Y/N was stuck with a night shift. Buck was on a mission to make it suck a little less.

He hummed along to the Foo Fighters as he carefully layered the lasagna. Rich, slow-simmered sauce, creamy ricotta that he’d actually bothered to make from scratch, and pasta. He kept glancing at the clock, a little anxious. Y/N’s shift started at seven, and Buck wanted to get this culinary masterpiece over there before the ER turned into a total zoo.

He slid the lasagna into the preheated oven, the oven’s hum a promise of warmth. While it baked, he tackled the loft, wiping down the surprisingly sticky kitchen counter, tossing a rogue pair of socks into the laundry basket, and even attempting to organize the overflowing pile of magazines on the coffee table. He knew Y/N appreciated a tidy space; it helped him unwind after the controlled chaos of the hospital.

The oven timer finally pinged, pulling him back to reality. He carefully pulled the lasagna out, He let it cool just enough before cutting out a hefty portion. He packed it in a Tupperware container with a side salad  and a slice of garlic bread, because lasagna without garlic bread was just…wrong.

He changed out of his cooking-splattered t-shirt and into a clean, slightly-worn, but comfortable, Henley and his favourite jeans. He grabbed his keys and, as a final touch, a small, neatly packaged box of Y/N’s favourite cookies from Lark Bakery.

The drive to County General was surprisingly smooth. LA traffic actually cooperating? A minor miracle. Buck found a spot in the visitor lot and hurried towards the hospital entrance, the automatic doors hissing open to the familiar, sterile scent of antiseptic. It was a world away from the cosiness of his loft.

He weaved through the hallways, past tired-looking doctors and nurses, patients in wheelchairs, and families with that worried look in their eyes. Knew his way to to Y/N’s unit by heart. He spotted Y/N at the nurses’ station, hunched over a computer, his brow furrowed in concentration as he rapidly typed. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows on his tired face.

"Hey," Buck said softly, leaning against the counter.

Y/N looked up, his face instantly breaking into a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "Buck! What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting you."

"I brought reinforcements," Buck said, holding up the container. "Lasagna. Extra cheesy. Your favorite."

Y/N’s eyes widened, a spark of delight igniting within them. “You made me lasagna? On your day off? Seriously?”

"Of course," Buck said, grinning, feeling a surge of pride and affection. “Thought you might need a little… sustenance to get you through the night. And cookies.”

Y/N pushed himself away from the computer, leaned across the desk, and gave Buck a quick, but heartfelt, kiss on the cheek. “You’re… amazing. You know that, right? Seriously, you’re the absolute best.” He smelled faintly of hand sanitizer.

"I try," Buck said, blushing slightly, running a hand through his hair. He glanced around the nurses' station, a buzzing hive of organized, yet slightly frantic, activity. Phones were ringing incessantly, monitors beeped rhythmically, and nurses rushed back and forth with a focused intensity. “Looks… fun,” he said dryly.

"It is… chaotic," Y/N confirmed, sighing, rubbing the back of his neck. "We’re short-staffed tonight, and there’s some nasty stomach bug going around. It's been… a day. And it's only just started."

"Well, hopefully, this will make it a little better," Buck said, placing the lasagna and cookies on the relatively clear section of the desk. "Consider it… fuel for the frontline."

Y/N smiled, his exhaustion momentarily fading. "You know me too well.” He glanced longingly at the lasagna, his eyes sparkling. "I can’t wait to actually eat this"

"Take your time," Buck said. "I'm not going anywhere. Figured I’d hang out for a bit, keep you company. Distract you from the… you know… the everything." He gestured vaguely at the controlled chaos.

Y/N’s face lit up even more, his eyes softening. "Really? You don't have to do that. I know you probably have a million other things to do."

"I want to," Buck said, reaching out and taking Y/N's hand, squeezing it gently. "Besides, I miss you. And I’m good at fetching coffee,It's a gift." He grinned, injecting a little levity into the situation.

Y/N glanced around the busy nurses' station, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "It’s pretty crazy here. Maybe we should find somewhere quieter to… you know… lasagna? The cafeteria?"

"Sounds perfect," Buck replied, his heart swelling with affection.

They walked towards the cafeteria, a harshly-lit, impersonal space that offered a brief respite from the intensity of the hospital. They found a relatively quiet corner table, and Buck carefully unpacked the lasagna, arranging it with a flourish.

Y/N inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. "Oh my god, Buck, this smells incredible. Seriously. I'd eat there every day." He took a bite, a look of pure bliss spreading across his face. "Oh… wow. You outdid yourself."

"Just trying to keep my favorite nurse fueled up," Buck said, feeling a warm glow spread through him as Y/N ate with gusto. He loved seeing Y/N happy, especially knowing how much stress he was under.

Just as Y/N was about to take the last bite of his cookie, his pager buzzed insistently, breaking the spell. He sighed softly, a flicker of resignation crossing his face.

"Duty calls," he said, standing up, a little bit better now, more full. "Thanks again for the lasagna, Buck. You have no idea how much I needed this."

"Anytime," Buck said, standing up and pulling Y/N into a hug, holding him close for a moment. "Get some rest when you can, okay? And don't hesitate to call if you need anything. Anything at all. I'll see you when you get home." He gave his forehead a soft kiss.

Y/N smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes. "I will. Love you, Buck."

"Love you too, Y/N," Buck said, watching him disappear back into the chaos of the hospital.

[kewwchee]

Insecurity

E.W x reader, hurt/comfort, jealousy, fluff

Ellie, just out of curiosity, went through your following list one day. She found something that ignited jealousy and... a feeling of unworthiness inside of her.

Divider by @/cursed-carmine

It all started with her innocently checking your profile. Sometimes, she liked to look at your posts and old photos, admiring you while she missed your presence, like the obsessed girlfriend that she is.

Not that she didn't have a whole album in her gallery dedicated to photos of you that you'd be too embarrassed to show anyone; ranging from funny angles to photos of your half-naked sleeping form, and if you ever caught the latter in her phone she'd just say you looked so cute she couldn't resist.

While she was mindlessly scrolling through your "perfectly curated and aesthetically pleasing" profile (it's what you always told her you tried to achieve, yet she'd argue that you're very anesthetically pleasing even in sweatpants and a messy bun), she checked your following list, skimming over it without even reading all the usernames properly.

Ellie has never intended to come off as the controlling and jealous type. She didn't want to scare you off like that. Besides, your relationship was healthy, so she'd easily shut down the mere idea of doubting the trust built between you.

However, something caught her eye. A typical mirror selfie profile picture, with someone standing in the middle and flexing their muscles. After getting a better look, it she realized it's a woman in the photo.

That's when her mind began racing with so many possibilities. You two hadn't ever explicitly discussed what counted as cheating online because it never really rose as an issue.

She tapped the icon with her thumb, bracing herself for what was to come. Most of the creator's videos consisted of her flexing her muscles in nothing but a sports bra and sweatpants that had her boxers peeking out. There were also a few thirst traps here and there. Why the hell would you follow such an account that regularly posts content like that?

Her mind couldn't rest for the rest of the day. She had a plethora of questions she wanted to ask you. But she also needed to ask herself questions. Was she... jealous? Maybe hurt? Or... insecure? She turned the focus back onto you to avoid dwelling on whichever vulnerable emotion had her triggered at the moment.

The next few days, something definitely changed. You were sure of it. The thing is, Ellie didn't want to express her feelings to you yet, so you didn't have a real reason to confront her. Yet you couldn't shake away the feeling that lingered.

The signs grew more obvious as the days passed. Less affectionate touches, checking her body every single time she walked in front of a mirror, just staring with an expression you couldn't quite understand. Almost like a look of... dissatisfaction. She had a tendency to distance herself when she felt down.

To you, all of this came unannounced, which made it harder to pinpoint what she was feeling. Truth be told, she was feeling inadequate and afraid of losing you. Though, the lack of communication on both your ends wasn't helping at all. Because when there's no clear explanations from either of you, your minds get clouded with doubts.

Your last straw was when she clearly avoided most of your physical affection, very much unlike her usual clingy self, and you could swear you started hearing sniffling coming from the bathroom some nights.

What the hell is she doing to herself, and why the hell is she acting so different? That night, you were finally going to get your answers. Subsequently, she'll be doing the same.

"Baby..." Your voice barely above a whisper, though you knew that she still hasn't slept. You waited for her to shift around and face you, but that didn't happen. You'll be patient with her, though.

"Ellie, I need you to tell me what's wrong." As you spoke, your hand came up to her jaw to grab it, soft but firm enough to turn her head.

"Nothing. Just go to sleep."

You didn't like how she was avoiding you. She was barely making eye contact, her eyes glued to the ceiling instead.

Normally, you wouldn't push her, but you had to find out what made her change.

"Talk to me, please. I know something's bothering you, and you've been distant lately..."

She took a deep breath in, her eyes hesitantly meeting yours.

"I don't want you to stay with me out of pity. I'm sure you have options..."

You didn't know how to react. You cocked an eyebrow at her strange response. It was so unexpected and unlike her.

"Ellie, what's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm sure your type is someone who looks... better than me. Maybe taller, stronger..." her eyes began to tear up, which worried you even more.

"Babe, where the hell is all of this coming from?"

Your expression of worry evoked more emotions out of her. It quickly turned into a skeptical one, urging her to explain herself.

"I... I noticed you were following this girl and... I don't know it just... made me feel insecure, I guess."

She finally admitted it. The room fell silent. She began to regret her awkward response, though it did lift a heavy weight off of her chest nonetheless.

Instead of further interrogating her, you let go of her face to grab your phone. You unlocked it and gave it to her.

"Show me." A simple command in a gentle tone. She quickly pulled up your following list and pointed to the profile.

"Ohh, her."

Now she was curious to know your explanation.

"I barely know her, a friend of a friend. One of mine made us exchange socials on a night out. In fact," you quickly moved your finger on the screen, "I've had her posts muted because I'm not interested."

Her expression quickly changed. Relief, finally. But... this left her feeling stupid. She was insecure and doubtful of your trust. She felt like a fool through and through. Which is why unlike what you'd expected, she began sobbing.

"What... Baby, what's wrong? I promise you that's the truth," you urgently spoke while pulling her head to your chest. Even if you didn't understand her reactions, you still wanted to comfort your girlfriend and let her take her time.

"N-no, it's not that i dont believe you..." she quietly spoke between muffled sobs. She anxiously raised her head, and the glossy-eyed look she gave you broke your heart. It hurt seeing the person you cared about the most feeling sad.

So many scenarios played out in her mind, and she felt a wave of guilt wash over her.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry for overreacting. I just feel so stupid for not trusting you and making this a big deal. I don't know what's wrong with me." She buried her face in the crook of your neck, trying to hide her shame as she cried. You almost cried, too.

"Ellie... darling, look at me, please. " You waited for her to gather courage to do so, then you continued,

"You don't need to apologize for anything. Nothing's wrong with you, please don't talk like that about yourself. I only want you to be sure from now on that you're the only woman I see and love, okay?"

The way you tenderly reassured her and began stroking her hair brought her comfort. She was glad to know that you weren't repelled by her emotional reactions.

She wiped her tears as you continued to brush your fingers through her hair, and then she lay beside you again, this time getting spooned by you.

"You're so beautiful, Ellie. Everything about you is breathtaking. It's not just the way you look, I could name a hundred more things that make you so interesting and special. You're my beautiful and special girl. I mean it."

At that moment, she was on cloud nine. You always managed to make her life better and help her deal with any wounds that would resurface from her past.

[furiousgoldfish]

(osdd, personal, tw suicidal ideation)

So I know I just posted about how happy I am to be back, but I am also incredibly confused and have nobody to talk to about this, so I'm going to try and sort out my thoughts here.

After I came back, I didn't hear any other alter in my head, I assumed they understood I was too overwhelmed with emotions to take care of them all, and maybe some of them just didn't wanna talk to me anymore because I was mute for 6 months. However, I soon found myself depressed, sick and starving, because I will be generally too sad to make food or to eat. Sickness has caused me severe pain but I'm used to waiting it out, pain feels normal. And also, it seems that my old protector, who used to jump in when things were going bad, isn't here anymore.

My old protector was working tirelessly to block any suicidal thought I had, before I even had it, so that I was unaware of how suicidal I am. I knew this was going on only because this alter showed me exactly what they do, and let me experience genuine suicidal thoughts I had for 2 days, and it was like, endless stream of suicidal thoughts, very difficult to deal with. And just to be clear I'm not even suicidal, I want to live, the reason I have a stream of suicidal thoughts is just because life is so unmanageable and painful, the suicidal thoughts just get naturally generated, because the brain is looking for an exit from all that pain. I think naturally, some things are worse than death, like torture, or endless pain, and we as a community understand that. And I'm often exposed to that kind of pain so my brain is just like, 'ummm isn't it time to cut this shitshow short', and then my protector would be like NO and block the thoughts so I would just be 'yeah pain is normal lets keep going' and that's just my life.

Anyway, after a few days of not eating enough, I started hearing an alter just yelling at me to buy food, very determined and persuasive, they were listing all the things I needed to get, and I'm very reluctant to do such a thing, but the alter was very insistent that I absolutely have to, so I got some food, immediately ate it. Then later I was in too much pain to be able to fall asleep and they yelled at me again, to take pain medicine, and they kept on and on until I eventually took some.

To me being yelled at felt like someone caring so I'm quite content with this, but I don't know who this alter is, I cannot recognize them. Even though I had alters yell at me about things before, it was never really like this, in this protective manner, they just yelled about things they wanted. I wanna know who this is, and they're not telling. And why can't I hear anyone else? I doubt they all merged or disappeared, unlikely.

It also seems that the only method this protector has to protect me is to yell at me until I do whatever is necessary for survival, they can't block my thoughts or take over and do it, which has me a little concerned. I'm used to protectors just taking over and doing things that I can't, and physically preventing me from taking any suicidal actions, and now I have to be persuaded to do it myself.

Part of me is enjoying that I can have all of my thoughts now, even the suicidal ones, but I can also easily be pushed into suicidal ideation, especially when in pain, I feel a bit on edge, like something bad could happen at any moment and I wouldn't have good protective measures to deal with it.

Also it feels like my body was just waiting for me to be back to spring into all kinds of illnesses and pain, while the other host, who does not feel emotions, was active, we weren't even sick! I am starting to believe that getting in touch with all the traumatic emotions just destroyed my immune system completely, half of my body is inflamed and it's not even getting better, and I can't even chew solid food. And also I have nobody to talk to and I'm just trying to hang on and believe that it will not always be like this and eventually I will find a way to heal.

[tenrose]

So in the end today might have started with a breakdown and me saying we should kill all men but I redirected my rage pretty well. Bow tomorrow I will have to say "ok one or two men can live and humanity has like two good aspects (food and books, and food again), sorry about yesterday"

[nereidprinc3ss]

no sweeter innocence (than our gentle sin)

in which spencer reid is gentle with overwhelmed fem!reader after sex

18+ (fluff, implied intimacy) warnings/tags: it's just aftercare, but like psychological aftercare, implied intimacy duh, vague descriptions of sex but nothing explicit, hurt/comfort without the hurt, allusions to postcoital dysphoria, reader cries but its not really sad, spencer reid is so kind i wish men were real, i think that is all a/n: guess who wrote an entirely different thing instead of touching her wips..... AGAIN...... this bitch cant do anything omggg!! but this was based on a request so go me also what a strange time to be posting but it's only 1k words and nobody can stop me

“Hey. Are you with me, angel?”

You blink your eyes open in the dark room—reorienting yourself to the tangle of your bodies. How many minutes has it been?

“Hm?”

He chuckles—a quick huff from his nose as he brings a hand up to push hair from your face. 

“I asked you if you’re with me.”

It takes you a moment to answer. You’re still trying to make sense of where you are in space, each sensation coming back to you one by one—the weight and pressure of him against you, the slip of cotton sheets and a cool breeze from the cracked window over your heated sticky skin. 

“Oh.”

It’s not much of an answer and your voice is small. For a moment he lets it sit, cupping your warm cheek. Your eyes flutter shut again. His voice comes gentler, dipped in concern. 

“You okay?”

This time you don’t try to speak. Your tongue is like a lead weight in your mouth and your brain is running on dial-up. The best you can do is to cling to him, hiding your face in the curve of his neck and hoping he’ll understand that your firm hold on him is a request for him to tighten his own arms around you, until you’re sure you won’t float away. He reciprocates and it makes you feel more secure immediately. 

“Can you answer me?” He murmurs, all sweet solicitation, lips brushing the top of your head in this new airtight position. And then, a moment later— “Baby. I wanna hear your voice.”

“Mhm,” you manage. 

Spencer rewards you by rubbing your back in slow circles. His hand feels nice on your bare skin. The way you love him is too big for words. It could make you cry. 

“Wasn’t too much? You’re not hurting anywhere?”

You shake your head and try to ignore the ache in your bones when you can’t seem to get him close enough. 

“Mm-mm.”

It’s not entirely true—your legs are sore, but it’s nothing that needs tending to, and your lower back is a bit crampy, but he’s already working on that. 

He hums. “You’re pretty out of it, sweet girl. What’s going on with you?”

Spencer is always careful with you. He’d never hurt you, or sacrifice your comfort for his pleasure. That said, he’s just as passionate as you are. The stretch of your arms above your head is still fresh in your mind—the ghost of his grip, pressing your wrists into the mattress, or pushing your leg up, or pulling you exactly where he wanted you by the hips. It’s all wonderful, and you never feel safer than you do when you’re with him, but it doesn’t make you feel any less vulnerable, any less raw, after all is said and done. Maybe it’s precisely because you trust him so much that you’re so sensitive afterward. But he never, ever makes you feel bad for having an intense reaction to an intense experience. He always meets you where you’re at. That in itself makes you emotional. Spencer is different than any of the partners you’d had before. 

Again, he’s patient as you try to process his question and work up a response. Maybe a minute later, you’re breathing out something that feels true. 

“Overwhelmed.”

The word is a tap against glass you didn’t know was there until it’s fracturing like a spiderweb. With no warning, and for no good reason, you find yourself choked up. 

“Oh,” he says, sympathetic and drawn out as understanding sets in. “Do you need me to back off for a minute?”

You squeeze him even fiercer and shake your head, unable to stop the tears from drawing their shiny paths down your cheeks and sinking into the weave of the pillow case. 

“Shh. You’re okay,” he murmurs, quiet and slow and almost sing-songy as he smooths your hair, though you know he doesn’t really expect you to stop crying. “You’re okay, pretty. Remember what I said about all the hormonal shifts in your body after you come?”

Once more you nod against him with a small, shuddering sniffle. 

“And how sometimes your body regulates by crying? Kind of like a… a reset button?”

“Mhm.”

“Mhm.” He shifts from rubbing your back to tracing light lines in shapeless patterns with the blunt edges of his nails, and your breath catches before you’re melting in his hold. “It’s okay to have big or confusing feelings after sex. It’s actually really common. I just want you to be honest with me about those feelings, right? So we can keep you safe?”

“Right.”

“Would you tell me if you were hurting, or if something I did or said was bothering you?”

“Yes.”

If you were looking at him you know he’d be smiling ever so slightly at your monosyllabic responses, charting an upward path with his hand and pushing it through your hair at the nape of your neck. “You can just nod, baby. You don’t have to talk. I know you’re tired.”

You make a small noise of gratitude and nuzzle closer, feeling better as the tears slow, quickly as they’d come. 

“Do you want a bath in a little while?”

Another nod. He scratches at your scalp. “Okay. We’ll do a bath, and then dinner, and then I’m finally going to make you watch that documentary about Helvetica. It’s a little outdated, and there are a few basic errors about the origin and development of the font as well as misinformation about the typeface subgroup in general, but I can amend those as we watch and afterward we can read the director’s tenth anniversary statement. I was waiting to read it until we watched it together.”

Spencer knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’ll fall asleep ten minutes in, curled up on the couch under a blanket in your biggest hoodie with your head on his lap and his hand in your hair, just like this. 

He’s actually really looking forward to it.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 49: Reforming Bonds

Summary: Your pack tries to figure out what comes next after John's announcement.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 10,527 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, explicit sexual content, p in v sex, oral sex, handjobs, shower sex, slight dom/sub dynamics, spanking (lots of asses get slapped), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, alternate universe, language, slight angst, emotions

A/N: I'm ovulating so you're welcome

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“Cap, what do ye mean?”

Chaos has erupted since John’s surprise announcement. Johnny is on his feet almost instantly in disbelief, trying to process the words his captain and alpha have just said. So they didn’t know either, judging by the surprised looks on their faces. They had no idea, and they weren’t expecting it.

“I’m retiring.” John says, repeating what he had just said. “It’s time I settled down.”

Johnny stammers for a moment, still trying to wrap his head around this sudden change in their lives.

“If you’re going, so am I.” Kyle says, rising to his feet as well.

“Kyle, you don’t have to-” John starts but Kyle holds his hand out.

“No, I want to.” The room goes still as Kyle addresses his alpha. “You’re right. It’s not fair for us to do this. Our omega deserves a normal pack and a good life.” He shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

John stares long and hard at him for a moment before nodding. “It’s your decision in the end, what you want to do.”

“This is what I want to do.” Kyle says softly.

John nods, still staring at him. He reaches out, taking Kyle’s hand. “Okay.”

There’s a sudden tension in the air as Simon stands from the couch, heading towards the back door. All four of you watch him go, the glass sliding open before closing softly. You chew on your lip, leaning forward to set John’s paperwork on the table. Part of you wants to look through it, read every small detail about your alpha as you can, but another part of you knows even some parts of him will remain secret to you. The less you know the better. That was how your place in this pack started.

Maybe it should stay that way.

You go to rise, but Johnny puts out a hand, stopping you. “Let him go, kitten.”

You glance at him for a moment before looking back at the door. You want to know what’s going through his head, what he’s feeling but he won’t let you in like that. Not right now. Even Johnny doesn’t go after him. He needs his space and you have to be okay with that.

John’s hand runs over your head, brushing your hair back from your face. You’re still staring at the door, staring out where Simon has disappeared. He squats down next to you again, his knees cracking. You fight the urge to make a joke, to tease him about his creaky joints in his retirement age.

“How are you?” He asks softly, slipping his hand around the back of your neck. It’s a comforting weight, a reminder of just how long it’s been since you presented for him. There’s a tingle beneath your skin at the touch of his hand.

“You’re really doing this? For me?” You ask, staring into those bright blue eyes of his.

“Yes.” He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re still young. You deserve to live a happy life with me in it.”

A smile forms on your face, relief starting to flood through you as the shock wears off. He’s voiced one of your deepest worries, that fear that he’d come back in a body bag someday too soon. You’d have to live the rest of your life without your alpha. Your mother was proof it could happen, but your situation is different. Your relationship with John is different than that of your parents. John’s a good alpha, a good man. He’s done horrible things, things you don’t want to think about, but you know he’d never raise a hand towards you.

The fact you feel so comfortable with his hand on the back of your neck proves that.

You lean into him, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. His arms wrap around you, lifting you up so he can sit on the couch in your place.

You settle into his lap, resting against his chest. It’s been a long time since you’ve been held by him. There’s been such a distance between the two of you, even after his return from disposing of Shepherd. You haven’t truly had a vulnerable, intimate moment with him in weeks.

Johnny lets out a sigh before heading for the back door. Kyle slips into his spot on the couch, leaning up against John. His head rests against yours, one of John’s arms slipping from around you to curl around Kyle. The three of you sit there in silence, soaking in the moment.

John’s really going to retire for you. Kyle is going to retire for you.

You never thought you’d see the day.

You press your nose into John’s neck, his beard tickling your skin. He’d shaved it when he went after Shepherd, cutting it back to its normal length. You almost miss his scruffy face. Maybe you can convince him to grow it out more once he’s officially retired. The mental image of him all scruffy-faced and soft has you shifting in his lap. You doubt he’d let himself lose his physicality, but you can dream. He’s lost more than he’d like to, no doubt. They all have.

Maybe it is a good thing he’s retiring. It would be rough to go back now after this.

Simon’s going to have a hell of a time.

You slide the door closed behind you, wrapping your arms around yourself as you step out onto the deck. He’s leaning against the railing, smoke puffing up from his lips and dispersing into the air. You stand there for a moment, waiting for him to acknowledge you, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, staring off in the distance. You wonder if this is what they saw in those times you did the same.

You take slow steps forward, keeping yourself in his peripheral. He knows you’re there. You’d be shocked if you surprised him of all people.

That could also be dangerous for you.

You step up next to him, leaning against the railing, staring out at the grey sea in the distance. He’s smoking, a cigarette held between his fingers. You wonder how many he’s smoked since he came out here. You know they all do it occasionally, Price most of all, but you haven’t seen them smoke in a long time. You wonder when he bought the pack, or if he’s been keeping it for a moment like this.

You don’t blame him one bit for needing something to clear his head.

You hesitate before you speak, wondering if you should say anything at all, or if you should just wait for him to speak his mind. You might be out here all night if you waited. Instead you take the plunge, jumping right into the swirling black pool that is Simon’s emotions.

“I won’t ask you to retire.” You bite the bullet, coming right out and saying what you know he’s stressed about. He shifts on his feet just slightly as he brings the cigarette up to his lips. “That wouldn’t be fair.” You continue. “I’d want it to be your decision. Just like I left it up to John. I honestly didn’t know he was going to do it. I didn’t think he would ever. This whole time I was thinking we’d go back to living on base, things would return to the way they were before. I wouldn’t have liked it, but it wasn’t my place to say what you all could and couldn’t do. That’s why I wouldn’t ask you to do the same. It should be your choice what you decide to do and I’m okay with it if you decide you don’t want to retire. Honestly I can’t picture you retiring like I can John…”

You trail off as he lets out a sigh, taking another drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out on the railing. There’s a tense moment of silence, his gaze still off in the distance.

“You talk a lot when you’re nervous.” He finally says.

“I-I’m not nervous.” You say, shaking your head.

He huffs, leaning his arms on the railing. “Can smell it on you.” He shakes his head, dropping his gaze to the yard below. “I knew he’d do it.” He starts, speaking softly. “He’s been stressing for weeks about going back, putting you through that again. I never thought he’d actually do it…”

Simon trails off, fiddling with the lighter in his hand. You watch the dexterous way he moves it, fluidly slipping it between his fingers. You can imagine a knife in its place, spinning and flipping expertly. He’s good with his hands. You know personally what those long, rough, thick fingers are capable of.

“It certainly wasn’t what I was expecting he’d say.” You shake your head, clearing it of the thoughts rapidly taking over. “But I mean it.” You sink your teeth into your lip. “I won’t be upset if you decide to stay. You and Johnny.”

Simon slowly turns to face you, staring down at you. He’s silent for a moment, staring long and hard at your face. If you didn’t know him better, you might have shrunk under that gaze, wishing you could crawl under the deck. Instead you stand there strong, squaring up to that intense stare.

“You’ve come a long way from the scared pup that was forced into your pack.” He finally says, his gaze softening just a bit. “I’m proud of you. You’ve survived more than most omegas would, and you’re still standing.” He reaches out, running a hand over your head. “I think Laswell was right in her choice.”

“I am glad she chose me.” You smile, leaning into his touch as his hand drops to cup your cheek. “Despite everything, I still think it could have been worse.” You make a face. “Phil could have gotten his way.”

Simon growls lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “I will pay you to never think about that shit stain again.”

“How much?” You smirk, letting out a shriek as you attempt to slip out of his grip. He’s too fast, though, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you back.

His hand slaps your ass, stinging even through your jeans. “Little shit.” He grunts, wiggling you around until you’re pressed up against his chest. “You’re a pain in my ass.”

“But you love it.” You grin up at him, knowing you’re right. He’s loved it for a long time, longer than he’s admitted.

He hums, leaning his forehead against yours. “Thank you.”

“For what?” You breathe, brows pulling slightly in a frown.

“For allowing me the chance to do this. For proving my thoughts and beliefs wrong.” He says. “For being so goddamn understanding.”

Your lips pull into a smile, your head tilting so you can kiss him. “I’m glad you’ve gotten this opportunity to learn to be vulnerable. Who knows where you’d be if you didn’t.”

“Still a miserable cunt with nothing to live for.” He says.

You snort, pressing another kiss to his lips. “You’ve had Johnny to live for.”

He hums in agreement. “I do quite like him.”

“It’s hard not to.” You say, wrapping your arms around Simon’s neck. “He’s just so...cute.”

“Don’t let him hear that. He’ll never let you forget you said it.” Simon mumbles against your lips.

“Nah, I’ll just tell him you said it.” You grin.

Simon growls, sinking his teeth into your lip. “You little shit.” His hand slips down, palming your ass. “Should line you all up, bend you over and spank you till you’ve got welts. See how much shit you wanna talk after.”

“Nothing can stop me.” You grin, biting his lip back.

He growls, smacking his hand against your ass again. It stings, but you can’t stop the moan from slipping through your lips.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts, squeezing your ass.

“Bit cold to be fucking on the porch.” A voice cuts through the tension, drawing you and Simon apart.

“Fuck off, Garrick.” Simon growls, his hand still on your ass.

He holds his hands up. “Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.” He grins. “Make it quick, we’re going to town for dinner.”

Simon’s hand lifts from your ass and you can imagine the gesture he made to Kyle. There’s a laugh before the door slides closed again. It makes you smile, seeing everyone back to their normal, playful selves again.

Simon leans down, pressing his face into your neck. He inhales deeply before sighing, his warm breath fanning across your cool skin. Goosebumps raise on your arms, the change in temperature making you shiver. Simon’s lips brush your neck, sliding down to your mark where he presses a soft kiss before he stands up straight once more.

“He’s right, we should get back inside.” You say, going to turn but a hand closes around your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Simon grins. It has another shiver running down your back.

“To go get ready for dinner…” You say, frowning slightly at him.

His grin twists into a smirk. “He said make it quick.”

Your mouth falls open as you stare at him, the meaning of his words hitting you instantly. “Oh fuck…”

The house is quiet, the light slowly fading beneath your door as the lamps get shut off in the living room. You’re standing there, hand around the doorknob. You twist it slowly, watching the light beneath the door fade entirely to darkness.

That darkness is broken as you crack your door open, casting a stream of light from the disgusting overhead bulb. You’ve turned it on out of necessity despite how badly it burns your retinas in the otherwise dark world around you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You ask into the darkness, the shape that would be otherwise hidden on the moonless night pausing by the stairs.

“To bed.” He rumbles, turning around to face you, hand on the banister. You can picture him, leg lifted ready to lift himself onto that first step.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” You say quietly, leaning against the door frame.

“No,” He says, releasing the banister so he can turn to fully face you. “Just figured you might want some space.”

“Why would I want that?” You ask, curious as to what he’s going to come up with.

He tilts his head. “I know I haven’t been the best alpha to you lately. Retiring won’t make up for what I’ve put you through, the promises I broke. I figured I’d be the last person you’d want to see right now.”

Emotions rise in your throat, threatening to choke you. He’s not wrong. He’s hurt you in more ways than one. Retirement won’t fix everything, all of the heartbreak he’s caused you. That will take time.

But he is wrong about you wanting distance.

“Yeah, well, you’re wrong.” You say, swallowing thickly. “Kyle will survive a night without you.”

He stares at you for a moment before he nods, a smile tugging at his lips. “Okay.”

You step back from the door, hand on the light switch as you wait for him to cross the small living room. Despite the absence of one person, the cottage has started feeling smaller to you. You long for space and breathing room. It almost makes you miss the barracks.

Almost.

You turn off the light as soon as John steps through the door, breathing a sigh of relief. You close the door behind him, letting it click as it seals the two of you inside. You brush past him, heading towards the bed.

Hands dart out, wrapping around your waist before you can get too far. You’re pulled backwards and spun around so you’re facing John. It happens so fast you have barely any time to react, just managing to get your hands on his chest before you slam into his body. His arms wrap around you, keeping you pinned there as he stares down at you. His gaze is intense, burning a hole straight through you. A shudder runs through your body, your skin starting to tingle under the warmth of his hands.

“I’ve been neglecting you.” He murmurs, leaning down close to your face. His breath is warm as it fans across your skin. You try to lean up to kiss him but he pulls back just out of reach. “I’m sorry.”

“Why don’t you prove how sorry you really are?” You say, your fingers bunching the fabric of his shirt.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your hands. “I think I can do that.”

He finally leans down, pressing his lips against yours. They’re slightly chapped but you don’t care, leaning up as far as you can to push against him. He kisses you hard, scraping his teeth against your bottom lip. You moan against his lips, sliding your hands up to his shoulders.

“Missed you.” He murmurs against your lips.

“You were the one neglecting me.” You say, pulling back.

He hums, sliding his hands down to your ass and squeezing. “Neglecting myself too. I’m not wasting any more time.” He says, leaning down to kiss you. “Get on the bed.” He growls.

“No.” You say, pulling away. “I’m in charge.”

The growl rumbling in his chest lowers in pitch, his eyes darkening but you don’t move, standing there strong despite your omega’s desire to do as you’re told. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction. He chose to neglect you, so you’re going to make sure he pays for it.

His growl softens as the tension in his shoulders relaxes. He toes off his slippers before passing you to head towards the bed. You rear back, slapping his ass on the way. He grunts, jumping slightly at the impact. He glances at you over his shoulder with a playful look before he climbs onto the bed, settling himself in the middle.

You take a moment to stare at him, taking in the sight of him on your bed, the place that’s been your safe haven for months. It’s not a nest, but it’s the closest you can get.

The sight of your alpha in it makes your pussy tingle.

You make your way to the bed, climbing onto the edge. You crawl over to him, sitting yourself up on his thighs. He stares up at you, his hands sliding up your legs.

You push them back onto the bed, shaking your head. “No touching.”

He grunts, but keeps his hands flat on the bed.

You lean forward, trailing your fingers across his cheek, feeling the prickle of his beard across your fingers as you trail them down his jaw. You continue your path down his throat, sliding over his Adam’s apple before dipping into the space between his collar bones. He swallows thickly, and you watch the way his throat bobs. You sit up on your knees, bending over him to sink your teeth into his throat. He growls, his hands closing around the backs of your knees.

His grip is tight, warning.

You don’t let up though, trailing bites across his throat to his neck. You sink your teeth into the skin below his ear drawing another growl. Your teeth leave red marks down his neck to his shoulder, where you sink your teeth in as hard as you can. He lets out a deep growl, his hand slapping your ass hard.

“Fuck.” He grunts as you let up, leaning over him.

You put your hands on either side of his head, staring down at him. “I thought I said no touching.”

“Almost took a chunk out.” He says, trailing his hands up the backs of your thighs.

“Good.” You say, sitting up on his stomach. “You bit me, it’s only fair I bite you.”

“You’ve bitten me lots of times.” He says, laying back.

“Yeah but mine won’t leave a scar.” You say, trailing your fingers down his chest.

You push your hips back, your clothed pussy pushing against the bulge in his sweatpants. You lean down, dragging your tongue across his chest before you reach his nipple, closing your lips around it. A breathy moan leaves his lips as you suck on the bud, tracing circles around it with your tongue. He sucks in a breath as your teeth scrape across his nipple, your lips curling around it to suck hard.

His hand lifts to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. You pull away from his nipple with a pop, sitting yourself up over him again.

“I said no touching.” You say, pushing his arm down. “For a military man, you don’t listen very well.”

“I never was good at following orders.” He smirks. “Only giving them out.”

You huff, forcing his hands under your knees. “Gonna have to tie you up.”

“How are you going to do that?” He lifts a brow at you.

“I’ll figure it out.” You smirk, pushing yourself back so you’re seated over his hips.

You run your fingers across his soft stomach, trailing them through the soft hair that makes a line directly where you’re headed. He’s hard under you, his bulge prominent through his sweatpants. You’re equally as aroused, panties so wet you’re probably leaving a spot on his pants.

You slip your fingers under the band of his sweatpants, finding nothing but skin. Oh, he’s gone commando underneath. You never took him for the type. You know Johnny freeballs a lot, and so does Simon, but you never thought John would as well. Maybe he hoped to get his dick wet tonight. If not by you, then someone else.

Lucky for him it did turn out to be you.

You push yourself up onto your knees as you slide his sweatpants down, revealing his cock. It’s hard and red, the tip already leaking. He’s this turned on by you and you haven’t even touched him yet. He really has been neglecting himself. You push his pants down as far as you can, his legs lifting to kick them the rest of the way off.

You sit yourself on his strong thighs, resting one hand on his hip as you drag a finger up the length of his cock. He shivers, hands clenching the sheets as you tease his head, running your finger over his weeping slit.

“So hard already.” You muse, smearing his precum down the length of his cock. “Barely touched you.”

“Told you I’ve been neglecting myself.” He grunts as you spit into your hand before finally gripping his cock.

You hum, squeezing the base before slowly dragging your hand to the top. He twitches in your hold, more precum spilling out of his tip. “If you were better behaved I might let you cum right now.” You lean down, your breath fanning his cock. “But you just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”

He twitches in your hand again as you drag your tongue from base to tip, flicking it along his slit. He groans, hands pulling at the sheets. The scent of him is heavy in the air, the muskiness of his arousal mingling with your own sweet scent. You’re dripping on his thigh, leaving a wet patch where you’re seated.

“You gonna cum? Make a mess all over yourself?” You hum, slowly stroking his throbbing cock.

“Yes,” he breathes, his hips pushing up against your hand.

“I don’t think so.” You say, dropping his cock from your hand.

He lets out a growl, his head lifting to stare down at you. “You little minx.”

You shrug. “Should have been good for me and kept your hands to yourself.” You sit yourself back between his legs, pulling your panties off and tossing them onto the floor. “If you can last until I cum, then maybe I’ll be nice to you.”

You climb up over his hips again, your hand wrapping around his cock. You don’t even need to prep yourself before you line him up, sinking down onto him. Your baggy shirt blocks out his view of his thick cock spreading you open. He groans, his head tilting back as you squeeze around him, sinking down until you’re seated on his hips.

Oh god how you’ve missed his cock.

It fills you just right, spreading you open and pushing against all those lovely little spots inside of you. It might just be the perfect cock, but then again, you’re likely to think that about all of them in the moment. Four perfect cocks attached to four perfect men.

How truly lucky you are.

And how lucky they are to have you.

You start to move your hips, rocking back and forth on John’s cock. His hands are still gripping the sheets so tight you’re worried he might rip them. Oh well, that would be a problem for later.

John bucks his hips as you lift yourself, spearing his cock back into you. You force your weight down, pinning his hips to the bed. “Be good.” You warn him, despite the pleasure reeling in your brain. The desire to give in and let him pound you into the mattress is strong, but you’re in too deep and have to keep control for now.

You continue to rock your hips, rising up and down along the length of his cock. His head is lifted, neck straining as he stares at you, watching your body move. His lips are parted, his chest rising and falling heavily with his breaths. He’s holding himself back, trying to keep control on himself. He could easily take over, force you to submit, but he lets you play this game.

For now.

You press your hands against John’s stomach, feeling the muscles contract as he breathes. Even after so much time he still has kept some of his strength. You can imagine him doing his pushups and situps in the morning, keeping himself agile and strong just in case.

You wonder if he’ll continue that even after retirement.

You can imagine he will. He’ll always have that need to be ready just in case.

That protective edge will never leave the back of his mind, no matter how relaxed he gets.

That almost makes you sad.

Your hands push into his stomach, using him as leverage to bounce on his cock. You’re quickly growing tired, and the press of his cock inside you has you rapidly approaching an orgasm. He’s pulsing and twitching inside of you, and you’re shocked he’s lasted this long. A true testament to his inner resolve.

He was being bad on purpose.

You don’t doubt that one bit.

It’s all a game to him, indulging this desire to be dominant for a moment. It’s a game you’ll gladly play, though, even if for just a moment.

“Fuck,” You breathe, reaching under your shirt to rub your clit.

John groans as you squeeze around him, his head falling back as he gets closer and closer to his own orgasm. Eventually he won’t be able to hold it. Eventually he’s going to lose control and cum without your permission. You’re tempted to push him that far, but at the same time you’re desperate to cum on your alpha’s cock.

High-pitched whines leave your lips as you desperately grind against his hips, fingers rubbing rapid circles around your clit. “Gonna cum!” You gasp, body shuddering as pleasure ripples through you.

“Cum on my cock.” He grunts, hands leaving the sheets to grip your thighs.

You don’t care, too close to the edge to pay much attention to him. You’re too busy chasing your own high.

Your orgasm slams into you, your hips jerking as you spasm around him. He lets out a deep moan, fingers indenting your thighs as he holds on for dear life. He won’t cum yet. He’ll be good and hold off for you despite the way you’re gripping him like a vice, your body trying to milk his own orgasm.

You pull yourself off of him, sitting back on his thighs as you take his cock in your hand. It’s slick and shiny with your juices, your hand slipping along him easily as you pump him. “Cum for me.” You breathe, squeezing your hand around his cock.

He cums with a deep groan, hips lifting as he finally gets relief, painting his stomach with his seed. You jerk him through his orgasm, seeking every last drop he can give you until he’s going soft in your hand. He’s breathing heavily, chest heaving as he slowly releases your thighs, dropping his hands back to the bed.

You crawl your way back up to his face, leaning over him as he tries to catch his breath. “So good for me.” You breathe, still damp and slick between your thighs. You know he’s getting hard again. You can smell the thickening of his scent in the air.

You press your lips against his, leaning down to rest your body against his chest. His arms come up, wrapping around you, pinning you there. You pull back just slightly, staring down into his eyes. “Fuck me like you missed me.” You breathe against his lips.

“Yes ma’am.” He says, his hands bunching your shirt around your waist. You sit yourself up just enough that he can pull it over your head and drop it on the floor.

You lean yourself back down, pressing your breasts against his chest as you kiss him again. He groans against your lips, trailing his hands across your skin.

“So fucking soft.” He grunts, squeezing your hips. His hands are rough against your back, still calloused despite his lack of handling weapons regularly. Maybe it’s just part of him, something he’ll never lose.

You don’t mind it one bit.

He wraps his arms around you, pushing up as he rolls you over onto your back. He hovers above you, elbows pressed into the mattress on either side of you. He stares down at you for a long moment, eyes tracing your face.

“What?” You ask, worrying there might be something wrong.

“Forgot what you looked like under me.” He grins playfully.

“Well, take a picture. You can share it to the group chat.” You smirk.

He chuckles. “No. This is just for me.”

He leans back down, pressing another kiss to your lips. He does kiss you like he missed you, soft and tender yet passionate and devouring. It has your toes curling and he hasn’t even touched you.

His lips leave yours to trail down your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin to leave marks just as you did to him. You shiver as he presses a kiss to your mark, the skin tingling from his touch. Your entire body is tingling as you give over control to him, submitting to him and what he’s going to do to your body to prove he really did miss you.

He kisses his way down your body, pausing for a moment to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, giving them the same attention you did to him. Your lips part in a breathy moan as he sucks on the sensitive bud, scraping his teeth along the skin before releasing it with a pop. He gives you a smirk as he continues down your body, licking a circle around your belly button before sliding even lower.

He trails kisses down your pelvis, ending with a kiss just above your clit. You lift your head up, watching him as he stares at your pussy, still slick and sensitive from your first orgasm. He hums, his thumbs spreading you open.

“Just as pretty as I remember.” He says.

A snarky remark dies on the tip of your tongue as he drags his tongue through your folds. You flop back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he finally reaches your clit, pressing a soft kiss against it.

Your lips part as he flicks the tip of his tongue against your clit, toes already curling again as he circles the still sensitive bud. His fingers keep you spread open as he licks another stripe through your folds before his lips wrap around your clit. He sucks hard, a sound almost like a mewl leaving your lips as pleasure shoots through you like an electric shock.

Your fingers curl into the sheets as John continues his relentless assault on your clit, slurping at your folds like a parched man. His tongue draws shapes across your clit, swirling and flicking, his lips closing around it and suckling hard. Your legs are shaking already, toes curled as he feasts on you like he really did miss you.

“Fuck…” You whine, pushing your hips up against his face, your thighs trying to close around his head. You don’t care that you might suffocate him. You doubt he’d complain about dying between your thighs. Out of all the ways he could go…

“Feel good, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your clit, sucking on it again.

“Yes!” You moan, your hand reaching down to slide through his hair. He cut it recently, back to the normal short length he wore on base. They’ve all cleaned up a bit, likely due to their belief they were all headed back to their old lives.

Now things have changed.

Your back arches off the bed as John continues to eat you out, pushing you closer and closer to another orgasm. You were already sensitive from the first, and the mix of his tongue and the burn of his beard on your inner thighs has you rapidly approaching a second.

“Cum for me.” He growls, scraping your clit with his teeth before wrapping his lips around it.

Your orgasm hits you like a truck, your entire body shaking as waves of pleasure course through you. You can barely handle it, colors erupting behind your eyes as you writhe on the bed. John continues to suckle at your clit, working you through your orgasm.

He finally relents once you’re shaking with overstimulation, pulling his face back from your pussy. His beard is damp with your juices, lips shining. You hold your arms out for him, inviting him to crawl back up so he’s wrapped in your arms.

“Good girl.” He murmurs.

You can taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you, his knee hooking beneath your leg and pushing it up. You wrap it around his waist, pulling his body as close as you can. His hand slides beneath your back, coming to rest between your shoulder blades. He cradles you as he slips a hand between your bodies, still kissing you as his cock brushes against your damp pussy. You’re still wet despite two orgasms, worked up by the touch and smell of your alpha.

You whimper against his lips as he pushes into you, your body welcoming him in gladly. A sigh leaves his lips as you squeeze around him, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. John leans his forehead against yours as he sinks completely into you, his hips pressing flush against yours.

“Fucking feel so good wrapped around me.” He breathes, pausing there for a moment as he presses soft pecks across your face.

“Missed you.” You whisper, wrapping yourself around him as tightly as you can.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, pressing his cheek against yours. “Shouldn’t have been neglecting you.”

“Make it up to me.” You say, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before nipping it gently.

He hums before he starts moving, rocking his hips against yours. You feel so full, his cock pressing as far as it can into you with each thrust of his hips forward. It’s slow and soft, John taking his time to try and prove to you just how much he missed you, trying to make up for just how much he’s neglected you over these last couple weeks by keeping his distance.

You would have accepted him back with open arms immediately. You have missed him, despite your tumultuous emotions surrounding your alpha. You love him, you always have, even in those moments when he hurt you. You know they weren’t intentional, done out of malice in a desire to hurt you as much as he can. You know he loves you too. You can tell just by the way he handles you so delicately, how he’s tried to make up for his mistakes in the best ways he knows how.

He keeps his arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close as he rocks against you. You moan softly in his ear, clinging to him like he might slip away, like this might be a dream you could wake up from any moment. Deep down you know it’s not, but at the same time that fear that this is all in your head runs rampant.

John presses soft kisses across your face as he makes love to you, almost as if he can sense your fears, your doubts and he’s trying to brush them away. Your nails dig into his back as he shifts his hips, his cock brushing against that spot inside of you with every thrust. It has warmth spreading through your entire body, electricity coursing through your veins, sparking every inch where his skin touches yours.

“Alpha,” You whimper, clinging onto him for dear life.

“I’ve got you.” He whispers in your ear, tightening his hold around you, lifting your body to meet his.

He moans softly, the sound rumbling in his chest as you squeeze around him. You can feel the warmth starting to pool in your stomach, heat blossoming between your thighs where his cock is sliding in and out of you slowly and steadily. You’re going to cum just like this, in the tenderness of this moment, a reuniting of your bodies after so long apart.

You can tell he’s getting close too, the occasional falter in his thrusts, the way his cock seems to pulse inside of you. He’s grunting and moaning in your ear, your own moans soft in the quiet of the room. Only the harmony of your bodies mingling together in pleasure can break the quiet that’s settled over the house in the darkness of night. Not even the rain dare fall and break this moment between you.

“John,” You breathe his name with a sigh as your back arches, pressing into him as you cum.

He’s not far behind, moaning your name into your ear as he spills into you, rocking his hips as he fills you.

He stills, resting some of his weight on you as you both lay there in bliss. It’s not uncomfortable. It’s grounding in the best way possible, his body pinning you to the bed, pussy still stuffed full of his cock. The doubts of this being real slowly float away, melting into the abyss as you breathe in his woody scent. It shoots back into the very primal parts of your brain, soothing your omega until she turns on her back in submission.

You’re crying before you realize it, tears leaking out the sides of your eyes. John shifts his weight, pushing up on his elbows so he’s staring down at you. “What is it? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

You shake your head, a quiet sob leaving your lips. You can’t put into words what you’re feeling. Bliss? Relief? That quiet ease of lingering grief you’ve been holding onto for so long finally dissipating?

John shushes you gently, cupping your face in his hands as you cry. You lean into his touch, nuzzling your face against his palm. “I’m so sorry.” He breathes, tears shining in his own eyes.

“Don’t hide from me again.” You breathe, a sob stuttering in your chest.

“I won’t.” He says, pouring nothing but conviction and truth into his voice. “I promise I won’t, and I’ll keep that promise.”

“You better.” You sniffle, pulling him down against you once more.

You lay there, the tears slowing as you hold him. There’s something so raw and intimate about this moment, sweat-slick bodies locked together in such a total way as you both allow such vulnerability. It speaks volumes of your trust in him to carry you and his trust in you to hold him. That is what you’re made for at the core of your instincts. To comfort, to care, to be the warm, open place for your alpha to retreat to. The safe space he can be vulnerable in.

Your tears slow to a stop, your breathing evening out as you lay there under the weight of him. Something has transpired in this moment, some hurdle the two of you have jumped over together in your relationship you hadn’t even realized was there. Some empty space has been filled, a hole patched.

John lifts his head, staring down at you for a moment before he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him softly, smiling at the tickle of his beard on your skin. You wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

He finally releases you after a moment, sitting himself up on his knees. You wince as his softened cock slips out of you, your body feeling deliciously sore. “Come on,” he says, trailing a hand down your leg. You feel sticky as the sweat starts to dry. “Let’s shower.”

You take his hand as he climbs off the bed, welcoming his aid in standing. Your legs are still trembling a bit, feeling unsteady as he leads you to the bathroom. You sit on the closed toilet lid as he starts the shower, waiting until the temperature is perfect.

“Come on,” He says, slipping his arms under you to carry you under the warm spray.

You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold on as the warm water pelts against your skin. He stands there for a moment, holding you as he stares down at your face.

“What?” You ask, smiling at him.

“Nothing.” He says, smiling back. “Just can’t get over how beautiful you are.”

Your face warms at his compliment, your arms wrapping tighter around his neck. “Stop it.”

“Never.” He says, leaning down to kiss you again.

You kiss him back, keeping your lips locked together as he slowly lowers you to your feet. You stand on your toes, back to the spray as you kiss him. Warmth is blooming beneath your skin again as his hands slide over your hips.

He turns you around, letting you get wet in the spray before he grabs the soap, lathering his hands. He drags them across your skin, cleaning the dried fluids from your body. He takes his time with your breasts, cupping them in his hands as he drags his thumbs over your nipples. There’s a stirring beginning in your stomach again, warmth starting to sink down from your stomach to your pelvis.

His hands abandon your breasts to slide lower, trailing over your stomach before slipping even lower. He presses against your back as his hands scrub at your inner thighs, wiping the juices that have begun to dry against your skin.

Your teeth sink into your lip as his hands travel upward, one of them slipping between your legs. His fingers are gentle as they rub through your folds, still sensitive from three orgasms. His middle finger drags over your clit, making your hips jerk. You can feel him growing hard against your back, your ass pushing back against him as he continues to tease your clit.

“Fuck,” You breathe, starting to dampen between your thighs and not from the water spraying you both.

You push yourself forward, bending so your hands press against the tile wall. You push back against his ass, grinding against him.

He gets the message, pulling back just slightly before the tip of his cock drags through your folds. You’re still sensitive as he pushes into you, your pussy fluttering around him. He groans, the sound echoing around the tile walls of the shower as he presses in until he’s flush with your ass. Your hands push against the wall, pressing you back against him to take him as deep as you can.

“Fucking irresistible.” He groans, his hands gripping your hips as he starts to thrust into you.

His thrusts are quick and sharp, the antithesis of what they were just a few minutes before. Gone is the intimacy and the vulnerability, instead desperate need taking its place. It’s not about making love anymore, instead it’s feeding into that primal need taking over.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh fills the bathroom as he fucks into you hard, using his grip on your hips to pull you back against him as he thrusts into you. You can do nothing but stand there as he uses you, fighting to keep from slipping in the water still spraying both of you from overhead.

Your moans are short and sharp, nails scratching at the tiles as you get closer and closer to the edge, forced onward by the drag of his cock against that spot inside of you. It has your legs shaking, body pushing back against his as your back arches.

“Come on,” He grunts, his thrusts starting to get sloppy. He has to be sensitive still too.

Your legs do nearly give out as his fingers find your clit, rubbing tight circles against the overly sensitive bud. You brace yourself against the wall, John’s arm wrapping around your stomach to keep you upright as he continues his assault on your clit.

“Cum for me.” He grunts, his hips snapping against your ass.

“Fuck…” You whine, legs nearly spasming as you gush around his cock, another orgasm slamming into you.

He curses as his thrusts get sloppy, his hips pushing hard against your ass as he grinds into you. His fingers don’t let up on your clit as he continues to chase his own high, pushing you close to the point of overstimulation. You can feel another orgasm rapidly approaching, your entire body trembling.

“That’s it,” he grunts, pushing against your clit.

Your arms nearly give out as another orgasm washes through you, just barely keeping yourself from face-planting into the wall as he thrusts hard against your ass twice more before he stills. His warm cum spurts into you as he orgasms, his head falling back as he groans low and deep.

“Bloody fucking hell.” He grunts, hands holding your hips up as you shake from the intensity of your second orgasm.

He pulls himself out of your overstimulated pussy, still spasming as his cum starts to drip out of you. He wraps his arms around you, lifting you up so you’re pressed against his chest.

“So fucking good for me, you know that?” He hums in your ear, pressing a kiss to the lobe.

You whine at his praise, a shiver running down your spine as your omega beams with pride.

He washes you clean again, taking his time washing your hair for you. You do the same to him, running the soap over his skin. You pause around his scars, gently caressing each one. It’s easy to ignore them sometimes, forget about them and their meanings. Sometimes you can’t help but stare, worry knotting in your stomach as you stare at the ones too close to vital organs. Close calls and the possibilities had those wounds just been slightly lower, slightly to the side.

Tonight you try to ignore the meanings of them, cleaning his skin until he nearly shines and the water starts to go cold.

He reaches around you to turn it off, a shiver running through you as the cool air in the bathroom hits your skin. He’s quick to wrap a towel around you, drying you off as much as he can before drying himself.

You head back into your room, forgoing clothes as you climb into the bed naked. The sheets are slightly damp and smell like sex but you don’t care. John joins you just a moment later, forgoing clothes as well. He lays down on his back, opening an arm to you. You saddle in close to his side, tossing an arm around him as he pulls the sheets up around you. You press your nose into his chest, breathing in the clean scent of soap and the natural scent of him beneath. It calms your mind, slowing down your thoughts.

“Get some sleep.” He murmurs into your damp hair, kissing the top of your head.

You hum, already halfway there as your eyes slip closed.

It’s already light outside when you wake.

The light is shining through the gap in the curtain, pulling you from the sweet arms of sleep. It’s warm under the sheets, your back pressed up against something solid. You let out a groan as you stretch, joints popping. You’ve been in this position for a while.

“Morning.” A soft voice says, making you turn your head. John is still with you, reclined up against the headboard.

“What time is it?” You murmur, rubbing your eyes.

“Just past seven.” He says, his face illuminated by the glow of his phone.

“What’re you doing?” You ask, turning around to face him.

“Looking at houses.” He says, swiping across his screen.

“Houses?” Your sleep-addled brain can’t quite comprehend what he’s saying.

“For us to move into.” He says, glancing down at you.

It takes you a moment before the tears start to gather in your eyes. “Huh?” You push yourself up onto your elbow.

“We’ll have to go back to base for a short time while my retirement paperwork gets processed, but then we’ll have to have somewhere to go after that goes through.” He explains. “I’ve been looking at some places for a while.”

“A while?” You blink at him, trying to hold back the tears.

He nods. “Since before I left to go after Shepherd.” A tear falls at the implications of his words. “So...you’ve been planning this for a while?”

He nods again. “It’s been playing around in my head. Just took some time to finally settle.”

You scoot yourself closer, leaning your head on his shoulder. You take a couple breaths to compose yourself, to not let the emotions overflow again like they did last night. He’s been considering retiring for a while, he’s even been looking at places to move to. He’s been planning this a lot longer than you knew, than you thought.

“I like this place.” He says, showing you a listing of a nice looking modern house.

“Where is it?” You ask, looking at the photos as he swipes through them. It is nice, new and clean looking.

“Scotland.” He says.

“Scotland?” You frown. You always thought he’d want to stay in England.

“It’s a good place to retire.” He says, pausing on a photo of the backyard. “Been looking at places on the coast.”

You can’t stop the tears now, frantically wiping at them as they fall. “The coast?”

He nods. “Just for you.”

You wrap your arm around him, curling in close to his side. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, leaning his head on yours. He really has been paying attention. He really has been putting a lot of thought into you and what you’d like, where you’d be happiest and the most comfortable.

“Thank you.” You breathe, trying to hold in your sobs.

“Of course.” He says, squeezing you tightly against his chest. “I want you to be happy. You’ve gone through so much shit already, you deserve to live out the rest of your life where you’ll be at peace.”

It’s a strange jump from the no-nonsense alpha you’d met when you arrived in his life. The alpha dedicated to his job, his team, saving the world. The alpha that willingly put you second because that’s what was expected of him, because that’s what he needed to do. The alpha that broke promises to you because of the good of the world mattered more to him than you.

You sniffle, hugging him even tighter, so much it probably hurts. He doesn’t complain though, letting you cling to him as you need to.

You wonder what changed, what happened to cause this sudden shift in his priorities. Maybe it was almost losing you, maybe it was those times you got angry with him, screamed at him because he wasn’t listening, because he was neglecting you emotionally, mentally, physically. Because he wouldn’t give you what you needed and expected you to be fine. Maybe it was simply your existence here in this cottage where nothing mattered but healing and living a normal life. Maybe he finally realized just how much life on base affected you and he was able to look past the blinders the military put on him from an early age.

“I’ll never be able to thank you enough for this.” You murmur.

“Just be happy. That’s all that I need.” He says, kissing the top of your head.

You smile softly, releasing your tight hold on him. “This means so much to me.”

“I know.” He smiles. “That’s why I’m doing it.”

“You’re so good to me. It’s a nice change.” You tease.

He chuckles, his hand sliding down to your hip. “I’m going to ignore that.”

You giggle, sliding your hand down to rest on his stomach. “What other places are you looking at?” You ask.

“A few places.” He says. “Ones with enough space for a big bed.”

“Oh?” You raise a brow at him. “How big are we talking?”

“Big enough for at least three.” He says, his scent starting to thicken in the air. “Maybe enough for five.”

You bite your lip, images of tangled bodies, lips and hands all over filling your head. The four of them gathered around you as you lay there, open and ready for them. Heat starts to pool in your stomach, your thighs rubbing together.

John’s chest rumbles with a growl as your scent starts to project into the air. “What’s on your mind.”

You smirk, sliding your hand under the sheets. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Screamin’ fucking Jesus again?”

“They’ve got a lot of time to make up for.” Kyle shrugs, pulling the tea bag out of his mug and dropping it into the trash.

“It’s like they’re tryin’ tae torture me.” Johnny whines, dropping into a seat at the table.

Kyle pours some milk into his mug before joining him. “You can always go outside.”

“Might have tae.” He grunts, putting his head in his hand. “I cannae take it.”

“You’re hard right now, aren’t you?” Kyle asks, taking a sip of his tea.

“Like a fuckin’ rock.” Johnny says, leaning back in his chair as he runs a hand across his groin. “Cannae take listenin’ to those sweet noises. I just want tae stick my face between her legs and make them shake. Tha’s all.”

“You’ll get your chance.” Kyle says. “She’ll be coming for you next.”

“I hope so.” Johnny groans, dropping his head into his hands.

Thudding steps come down the stairs, Simon appearing. He pauses, glancing at your door before shaking his head. “Girl’s busy these days.”

“As long as she’s having fun.” Kyle shrugs.

Johnny almost whines, head still in his hands.

“Needy little pup.” Simon mumbles, dragging a hand through Johnny’s newly cropped mohawk as he passes. “Probably hard in your shorts, huh?”

Johnny lets out another sound, running his hand over his face. “I cannae take it.” He pushes himself up to stand, beelining for Simon in the kitchen.

“Uh uh.” Simon says, turning him around before Johnny can get a hand on his dick. “Go sit back down and be good.” He delivers a sharp slap to Johnny’s ass.

Johnny lets out a frustrated groan but does as he’s told, sinking back into his seat at the table. Kyle hides his smirk in his tea, ears perking up as the moaning in your room quiets.

“Quick one this morning.” He muses, hiding his own stiffy under the table. The mental images of you and Price together is almost too much for even him. What he wouldn’t give to bear witness to that again. His alpha and his omega lost in their pleasure together. He wouldn’t even have to participate. Just watching would be enough.

There’s a few moments of silence before your door opens, John exiting looking rather pleased. You follow him, hair slightly mussed and a dopey smile on your face.

“Good morning.” Kyle says, smirking at his alpha.

“It is.” John says, heading for the kitchen, a pep in his step.

“Morning.” You say dreamily, a fucked-out look on your face.

Johnny mumbles something, staring hard at you before rising to his feet, the chair squeaking on the floor from the suddenness of his movement. “Cannae take anymore.”

He crosses the space between you quickly, brushing the placemats off the table before he’s lifting you. You drop on your back on the table, the wood trembling from the force of it. Johnny kneels between your legs, tossing them over his shoulders before his face disappears from sight.

Your head drops back, thudding against the table as a moan slips through your lips. Kyle’s own lips part as he watches, a slurping sound rising from between your thighs.

“Oh fuck.” He breathes, watching the top of Johnny’s head bob as he eats you out. His stiffy is now rock hard, pulsing painfully in his pants.

“Fucking mutt-” Simon goes to move forward but John stops him with a hand on his chest, watching your back arch off the table as Johnny continues to slurp at your pussy.

“Let him.” He says, dropping a hand to adjust his own pants. “He’s suffered enough.”

Your moans start to fill the air, body writhing on the table as Johnny sucks at your clit, the wet squelch of his mouth cleaning the remnants of John from your pussy loud in the air. He’s eating you like a man starved, but you suppose he is.

Your hands dart out, gripping the edges of the table as your legs start to shake, overly sensitive from what John gave you this morning, and likely last night.

“Gonna cum!” You gasp, thighs squeezing around Johnny’s head but he doesn’t seem to care. He’d gladly die in your pussy if he had to.

Kyle can’t take anymore either, slipping a hand into his pants. “Fuck…” He breathes, the sounds coming from Johnny almost obscene. He’s moaning almost as much as you are, fingers indenting your thighs from how hard he’s holding onto you.

“Come on,” Simon says, moving around the table. “Be a good boy and make her cum.”

Johnny moans against your pussy, sucking hard on your clit. Your body shudders, back arching off the table as you cum against his tongue. Johnny moans, sticking his tongue into your pussy to catch every last drop of you.

You’re breathing hard, hands still gripping the edge of the table as Johnny continues to lap at you, pushing you towards overstimulation.

“That’s enough.” Simon says, wrapping his hand around the back of Johnny’s neck, yanking him up to stand. “Let the poor girl breathe.”

You continue to lay there on the table, legs dropping over the edge, still shaking just a bit.

“Look at you.” Simon tsks, licking the side of Johnny’s mouth where your juices shine on his skin. His hand drops to the front of Johnny’s boxers, pushing against them at the wet spot on the front of his shorts. “Came in your pants again, didn’t ya?”

Johnny groans, nodding unabashedly.

“Fucking whore.” Simon spits, slapping Johnny’s ass. “Go clean yourself up.”

“Yes, sir.” Johnny moans, stumbling his way to the stairs.

Simon turns his gaze to Kyle, his hand slowing in his pants. “You need to go clean yourself too?”

Kyle swallows thickly, pulling his hand out of his pants. He shakes his head. “No, sir.”

Simon scoffs. “Should try a little harder, then.”

Kyle does almost cum in his pants then, his cock twitching as Simon’s mean side comes out.

“Come on.” Simon says, lifting you up so you’re seated on the table. “Up and at ‘em princess. Gonna get your pussy juice all over the table.”

“Bit late for that.” You murmur, sliding off the edge and into a chair.

Simon grabs the cleaning spray and a rag, tossing it to Johnny as he returns. “Clean up your mess.”

“Yes, sir.” Johnny says, spraying down the table.

Kyle’s cock is still throbbing in his pants, painfully hard as he tries to focus on his tea. He should excuse himself to the bathroom, jerk himself off real quick, but instead he remains seated, enjoying the pulsing in his shorts just a little too much.

“You’re really doing it?” You ask, sinking down on the couch.

“Hmm?” Kyle hums, looking up from his phone.

“Retiring?” You continue, tucking your legs up under you as you face him.

“Yeah.” He shrugs, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“Why? You don’t have to.” You say.

“Because I want to.” He explains, draping an arm across the back of the couch. “John is right. You deserve to have a happy life with your pack and I want to be there for it. I’ve done my time and I think I’m ready to have a normal life.”

“You’re giving up your career for me.” You say quietly, almost hesitantly.

“It’s worth it.” He shrugs again. “I’d rather you be happy knowing I’m always going to be there than stressed I might not be coming home. It’s not fair to you to live with that stress.”

“But Simon and Johnny…”

“They’re going to do what they’re going to do.” He says. “That’s up to them and what they want. This is what I want. I want to live a normal life with you and John. He’s going to need the support for a while.”

“This is going to be hard for him, isn’t it?” You say.

He nods. “It will be a hard adjustment. John’s never been good at living a civilian life. Even when he’s had chances to go on leave, he never fully steps away. Giving it up cold turkey is going to be hard on him. He’s going to need help, support, someone who understands. No offense to you.”

“None taken.” You say. “He’s going to need you.”

Kyle nods. “That’s why I want to be there. It wouldn’t be fair for me to try and help from a distance. You’ll need help too, trying to adjust to a normal pack life again. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I left you both to flounder.”

You lean your head against his arm. “You’re so good to us. Too good.”

He smiles. “Nah, I just love you both.” He wraps his arm around you, pulling you in against his chest.

“I love you too.” You say, relaxing against him, and you mean it.

You love all of them so much it almost hurts.

NEXT ->

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[dior-luxury]

Hi! Could I request Jade Leech(and maybe one with Rook) and the reader in a kind of enemies to lovers setting, bit suggestive too if possible. How would this play out? Who would confess first and how? I really like your other work, such as the proposals! Thanks for the hard work!

Enemies To Lover

( ✧ ) ────── pre-boyfriend stories . fluff/drama - gn!reader .

- [𝐜𝐡.] jade . rook

- [𝐩:𝐬] Suggestive Themes / Mild Sexual Tension . Minor Injury Mention (Jade’s scene) . Emotional Tension / Power Dynamics . Flirting & Verbal Sparring

Note: Yes, I WAS giggling to myself when writing this 😭. Also thank you so much for complimenting my work!! And your always welcome, I love writing honestly. Hopefully, these met to all of your expectations!!

Jade Leech

At first, you couldn't stand Jade Leech.

It wasn't just the calm, knowing smile or his cryptic metaphors that coiled around your patience like seaweed. It was how he always seemed two steps ahead of you—especially when you were most vulnerable. He had a way of cornering you in conversations that felt like traps, laced with double meanings and gentle mockery. You'd always leave flustered, teeth clenched, cheeks burning.

The tension began in Potionology, where you were inexplicably paired for a semester-long project. Jade was composed as ever, his voice dipped in cool politeness, but you knew he relished your irritation. Every comment he made was deliberately vague, every instruction laced with subtle barbs about your technique, your handwriting, your "charming eagerness to prove yourself."

But things changed the night you got locked in the botanical greenhouse together during a rare lunar bloom.

You had been arguing—again—over dosage measurements. Jade was annoyingly close, leaning over your shoulder, his breath ghosting over your neck as he "corrected" your notes. One word led to another until the heated exchange turned into silence, the tension hanging thick and humid in the air, laced with the scent of phosphorescent flowers and damp earth.

That’s when he said it, voice low: "You’re far more entertaining when you stop pretending to hate me."

You turned sharply, ready to bark something back, but Jade was already closer than you expected—closer than he should’ve been. His eyes, no longer mockingly half-lidded, held something sharper, darker. Something curious.

“You play your role well,” he continued, stepping just a little closer, “but I wonder what would happen if you stopped resisting. I think you'd find me quite... intoxicating.”

Your heart thundered, and your tongue stumbled. Jade smirked, but not cruelly this time—it was amused, hungry.

And for once, you didn’t pull away.

The tension that had defined your partnership slowly morphed after that night. The teasing didn’t stop—but it changed. Became flirtatious, laced with a promise. You caught him watching you from across the room with that unreadable expression, and your body would react before your brain could process.

He touched your hand longer during lab work. He began seeking you out under the guise of casual conversation. The tension was no longer frustrating—it was magnetic.

The confession came unexpectedly.

After a House of Heartsbanquet duel, you’d ended up with a shallow cut on your arm. Jade found you alone in the infirmary afterward, and the moment he saw the blood, his demeanor shifted.

“This would hurt less,” he murmured, wiping it with practiced care, “if you'd stop leaping into danger without considering the consequences.”

“And you’d care why?” you shot back, still trying to keep up the old defense.

His hands paused. His voice dropped.

“Because I hate watching you bleed,” he said. “And because, despite everything... I've come to care for you far more than I intended.”

You stared, throat dry.

He leaned in, fingers grazing your jaw, gaze devouring.

“Do I need to be plainer, dear pearl? Or shall I let you keep pretending you don’t crave the games as much as I do?”

Rook Hunt

Rook was a menace. A poetic, theatrical, irrepressibly present menace.

From the moment you crossed paths, he decided you were fascinating. "A mystery cloaked in fire!" he’d exclaimed once after you rolled your eyes at his compliments. “So much fury, and yet... such beauty in resistance.”

You hated it. You hated how he waxed poetic about your every motion. You hated how he always seemed to appear out of nowhere with a smile and an unsolicited metaphor. And most of all—you hated how a part of you thrilled at his attention.

You sparred with him constantly. Quips, eye-rolls, mock salutes. You refused to give him the satisfaction of a blush. But Rook never wavered. He treated your rebukes like gifts, each barb only sharpening his interest.

Still, things came to a head during the VDC preparation week.

Tensions were high. You were co-leaders on a choreography segment—Rook for his elegance, you for your sheer grit and precision. But rehearsal after rehearsal saw friction, each of you trying to pull the routine in different directions. He wanted grace; you wanted impact.

After a particularly heated disagreement, you stormed off, breath ragged, only for Rook to follow, not with scolding—but silence. You turned on him behind the training hall, furious.

“Why do you care so much about how I move?!”

He stared at you, expression serious—uncharacteristically so.

“Because you move like a storm, and I—I want to be the one to weather it.”

You froze.

“I do not admire you despite your fire,” he whispered, stepping closer. “I am entranced because of it. Your strength, your fury—they are beautiful. You do not see it, but I do.”

Your back hit the wall as he came nearer, gloved hand gently brushing your wrist. His lips hovered close, not quite touching.

“And the hunter,” he murmured, “only chases what he cannot forget.”

You trembled—not from fear.

The line between your hate and desire shattered that night.

Afterward, Rook’s pursuit turned softer. Less dramatic, more intimate. He started learning what quiet things made you smile. He touched your shoulder during idle conversation. He sought your opinion, not to challenge—but to understand.

And the night of the performance, when you both stood backstage, breathless from adrenaline, it was you who pulled him aside.

“I can’t stand you,” you whispered. “But I can’t... stop thinking about you either.”

Rook’s smile bloomed like sunlight through trees.

“Then the hunt was mutual all along,” he said, before leaning in and kissing you—deep, slow, reverent.

[uluvjay]

Needy-L. Norris

Lando Norris x fem! Reader

Lando can be good at hiding his feelings and overthinking with his heart, but this time around he has you to show him how good it feels to be needed :)

Warnings?; slight angst, sad Lando, insecure Lando, hiding emotions, lots of reassurance, happy ending, sorry for any errors I missed. Ps this is VERY old but I found it and felt like it deserved to see the light!

He couldn’t help it, after years of his ex girlfriend telling him he could be to much and that he was so needy he alway backed himself into a corner when he felt like he was doing to much.

Technically you hadn’t shown any signs or given him any reason to believe that he was to much or to clingy but he just felt like he was.

His head told him to do it, told him he was spending too much time with you and that you needed a break from him. His heart raced anytime he thought about replying properly to you, ached when you were giving him quick and steady replies but he couldn’t man up and give you what you deserved.

His mother always did say he overthought with his heart.

“Baby?” He heard you call from the entryway of his apartment, you must have used the key he gave you.

“In my streaming room.” He replied.

“Are you streaming?” You asked before you entered the room, not quite in the mood to be on camera.

“No, just looking over this video for our Quadrant athletes announcement.” He spoke softly, turning in his chair to find you standing in the doorway. One of his hoodies swallowed you while you wore leggings and the crocs he always made fun of you for.

You smiled sweetly before entering the room, moving to stand beside his chair you ran a hand through his messy curls, leaning down to place a sweet kiss to his lips.

But when your lips touched his you couldn’t help but notice his lack of usual enthusiasm that’s there when you kiss him.

“What’s wrong?” You questioned.

“Nothing.” He mumbled, pulling his head from your grasp and standing up.

“Lando what’s going on? Did I do something to upset you?” You ask following him into his living room.

“What? no, why would you think that?” He scoffed.

“Because ever since I left on Monday you’ve been weird, giving my short and dry replies, cancelled dinner last night. I just thought that maybe I did something to upset you while I was here over the weekend.” You shrugged.

Shit he thought, this always happened. He got in his head, pushed people away, made them feel like they were the problem; when in reality it was him and his issues.

“No-No you didn’t do anything, it’s just me and my stupid emotions.” He shook his head voice rough as he sat on the sectional in his living room.

The sight made your chest ache, his head in his hands he looked frustrated and upset, guilty over something you couldn’t place.

You hated when he spoke of himself like this, spoke like his emotions weren’t important, as if how he felt was Irrelevant.

Typically you only saw this after a bad race weekend, when he didn’t drive how he wanted and the medias cruel words got to him and made him think less of himself.

“Lan, talk to me honey. What’s going in that head of yours?” You questioned softly moving to sit next to him on the lush cushions.

He shook his head in dismissal ready to get up and hide away, hide his emotions like he always did, watch from afar as he was once again left for not opening up.

But none of his past girlfriends understood how he felt, they all thought men should be manly and that men shouldn’t feel, men shouldn’t be held and cuddled.

And while you’d never acted that way towards him and had never made him feel like he was to much, he couldn’t help the way he reverted back to his usual ways.

However this time as he looked up at you he found your eyes full of nothing but concern, your eyebrows creased in confusion as you looked at him like all you wanted to do was help him.

And for the first time ever Lando found himself opening up to a girlfriend or anyone for that matter about this particular feeling.

“I’m just a lot you know? The busy schedule, constant travel, always wanting to be close to you when I can, the way I get emotional, how I like to be held and kissed? How i constantly apologize for literally nothing? How I pour my rants about the team onto you? That’s a lot for you and I shouldn’t put that all on you.” He explained with a sad shrug.

Your heart broke at the racers words, too much? The simple truth of being loved and cared for being seen as too much? Who had told your sweet boyfriend that?

“Lando-I do not think that you’re too much. I knew what I was signing up for with your schedule when we got together, if I didn’t want that I wouldn’t have said yes when you asked me out. And to be quite frank I like how cuddly and loving you are, it’s never to much when you love on me.” You spoke softly hand reaching to hold his shaking one’s.

He couldn’t help the way he flushed at the touch, “You don’t find me needy?”

“Needy? Baby no, and there’s not one damn thing wrong with being needy or wanted.” You laughed baffled by his words.

“I love when you curl up with your head in my lap and take a nap, I enjoy playing with your hair and cuddling you. My favorite way to wake up is when you kiss me awake-hell I even pretend I’m still sleeping sometimes just so you keep going, I love the way you hold me after you come back from a race weekend, and I love that you love to be around me. It makes me feel good and needed as well Lando.” You explained.

Lando felt ready to cry at the honesty in your words, the way you spoke to him like he meant something, like his wants and needs actually meant something.

“You really mean that?” He questioned quietly, so quiet that you almost didn’t hear it.

“I do, and you know why?”

“Why?” He raised a brow

“Because I love you, and I love loving you.” You smiled pulling the man in sealing your words with a kiss.

Lando felt ready to cry when you two pulled away, “I love you too.” He smiled.

“And thank you, I’ve never had anyone talk about me like that. In the past I’ve always been judged by girlfriends for the way I am, they’ve always told me I’m too needy for a man.” He sighed pitifully.

“Well I don’t think that, there’s nothing wrong with being needed or wanted Lando, and I’ll show you that for as long as you let me.”

“Yeah?” He asked and finally there was that sweet smile tugging at the corner of his lip.

“Yeah.” You nodded kissing him one last time before standing to your feel and holding a hand for him.

“Where are we going?”

“To cuddle, so I can show you how good it feels to be needed.”

Lando didn’t hesitate to stand after that, his hand wrapping around yours as you pulled him towards his room.

That night Lando realized as you allowed him to lay his head on your chest, fingers running through his tangled curls that this was okay. Loving hard was okay, wanting to be kissed and loved was okay.

And even though he was ‘needy’ it felt really really good to be needed and wanted by you.

-

[ninisdollie]

party 4 you - nishimura riki 𓈒ིུ

“In which reader bumps into her ex in a party, and suddenly all the heartbreak and feelings come to life again.”

‎ ‎ ⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧ Content:

fem! reader x ni-ki, exes to lovers, cursing, a little bit of angst, a lot of emotions, suggestive but no smut, drinking, fluff, both ni-ki and reader are pretty criers lmao

hate comments will be deleted and blocked, likes and reblogs are appreciated !!

You stared at the glowing message on your phone screen for the third time that hour.

“It’s just a party, babe. You need this.”

Maybe you did. Or maybe you just needed to stop thinking about him.

Your finger hovered over the RSVP like it might burn you. You already knew he’d be there. Ni-ki always showed up to these things, along with his friends, like the social butterfly he was, charming everyone in the room like he didn’t carry a single piece of you in his pockets anymore.

You shifted in your bed, knees curled to your chest, blanket tucked under your chin like armor. The room was quiet, but your mind wasn’t. It hadn't been quiet in a long time, not since the day you left him standing in his living room, jaw clenched, eyes glassy, silence stretching between you like it could snap.

It had been a year.

A year of no texts. No accidental likes. No closure.

He wasn’t a stranger. That was what made it worse.

You’d known Nishimura Riki since you were fifteen. High school sweethearts, the kind people thought would get married someday. He walked you home when it rained, held your hand under the lunch table, memorized your coffee order before you even knew it yourself. He called you "his future" once, whispered it in your ear after prom, his mouth warm against your skin like a promise. You had spent years with him. Built routines and futures and secret traditions. Shared playlists and toothbrushes. Argued over which marvel movie was better and made up with forehead kisses on his bedroom floor.

He felt like home once, he was home to you. Your longest relationship, and your worst breakup.

You couldn’t even remember the last thing he said before the silence swallowed you whole. Something about needing space, something about how he was tired. Or maybe it was you who said it. You had both been tired, bruised from trying too hard to fix something that didn’t want to stay whole.

Still, loving him never stopped.

That was the part you couldn’t explain to anyone. How even now, a year later, the thought of bumping into him felt like pressing on a wound just to make sure it still hurt. How even now, you'd still dreamt about his hands, his smell, his smile, the way he teased you, the way he touched you, the way he made you feel.

“You’re not dressed,” your friend said from your doorway, arms crossed and eyes already rolling. “Don’t make me drag you out of bed.”

You blinked up at her, biting your lip, unsure.

“I don’t know if I should go.”

She sighed, walking in and tossing something slinky and black onto your sheets.

“You should. You need to. It’s been a year. You might not even see him, the house is huge.”

You nodded like you believed her. It was true, in part, Jake's house was really big and it would probably be packed of people from all campus, but still, the universe had a history of being cruel to you. And if you even got a sight of Ni-ki you didn't know how you would react, the thought only made your stomach twist.

She disappeared to finish getting ready, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You looked at yourself in the mirror and didn’t recognize the girl staring back. She was a little older now. A little more tired. A little less hopeful.

Some part of you wanted to see him.

Even if it was just to know he still existed in the same world as you.

You pulled on the dress. Did your makeup with shaky fingers. Told yourself this was just another night. Just another party.

The house was loud. Too loud.

Bass thumped through the walls, vibrating in your ribs as you stepped past the threshold, eyes already scanning the crowd on instinct. Your friend disappeared within minutes, swallowed by music, bodies, and a red solo cup. You didn’t follow her. You couldn’t.

You hovered near the kitchen instead, fingers wrapped tightly around a half-melted drink, heart beating too fast for someone standing still.

It smelled like perfume, sweat, and faint memories.

This was his best friend's house, every corner of the place felt like a landmine. The hallway where he used to press you against the wall, kissing you breathless. The back porch where he once told you, “I’ve never loved anyone this much.” The upstairs bathroom door, still chipped from the time you had a stupid argument and he accidentally slammed it shut too hard and came back ten minutes later with a shaky apology and a bag of gummy bears.

You should’ve left. You still could.

But your friends were right, you needed this. Not only for him, but for yourself, to prove yourself that you could live with this, that someday, it would all pass.

The music thumped, deep and heavy, reverberating through the floor and vibrating in your chest as you moved around the house. The party was in full swing now, people laughing, dancing, talking in tight groups. It should have been easy to get lost in the noise. To forget. To let yourself feel something that wasn’t this heavy, suffocating ache.

But it wasn’t easy.

Your friend, Rei, pulled you toward the kitchen with a grin, passing a new drink into your hand as if it was supposed to fix everything.

"You’re not going to stand around looking like a ghost all night, right?"

“Just… let me be, okay?” you muttered, forcing a smile, hoping it was convincing.

Rei didn’t seem to buy it but didn’t push either.

"Alright, alright. Just don’t go hiding in a corner again. Let’s at least pretend we’re having fun tonight."

You let yourself be dragged, but your heart wasn’t in it. You tried to lose yourself in the beat, in the movement, in the rhythm of the crowd. You swayed your hips, let your hands move through the air, pretending you weren't still thinking about him, about the inevitable.

But just as you turned to keep doing exactly that, you froze.

He was there.

Ni-ki.

Across the room, laughing at something someone said. Cup in hand. The same silver chain resting at the base of his throat, the one you gave him for your anniversary. He looked good, too good. Taller, maybe. A little broader. His hair was black now, you always used to tell him that was your favorite color on him, it was a bit shorter too. Like time had been kind to him while it only made you softer around the edges. He looked different, but it was still him. The boy who had loved you with everything he had. The boy who had torn your heart out when it all crumbled.

Your breath caught in your throat. He hadn’t seen you yet. But you saw him. And everything inside you went still.

It wasn’t dramatic. No slow-motion moment. No spotlight cutting through the dark. He didn’t even look in your direction. He was just… there, across the room, half-shadowed by the gold-tinted lights strung across the ceiling.

You turned your back to him and forced yourself to laugh at something your friend said. You fixed the strap of your dress. Took another sip of your drink. You focused on the ice melting between your fingers, the way it stung just enough to distract you.

You didn’t dare look again.

But you felt him.

Like gravity. Like pressure in your chest that hadn’t existed moments ago.

You tried to play it cool, smile the way you used to before everything fell apart. You leaned against the counter like you belonged here. Like you weren't unraveling slowly beneath the surface. You kept telling yourself you wouldn’t look. That he didn’t matter anymore. That the ache in your chest was just old muscle memory.

But then a familiar laugh floated across the room, his laugh, and it cracked something open inside you.

You knew that sound. You used to be the reason for it.

Your breath hitched.

A hand brushed your arm, pulling you back into the moment, asking if you were okay. You nodded too quickly, smiled too wide.

“Just gonna… find the bathroom,” you said, your voice too light. “Be right back.”

You didn’t glance back as you slipped down the hallway, heart pounding like you'd just run a race.

You hated that you still felt this way.

That after everything, after all the nights you'd forced yourself not to cry, after pretending for so long that you were okay, seeing him for five seconds could still shake you to your core.

You took a deep breath. Then another.

You’re fine, you told yourself. It’s just a party. It’s just a boy. You don’t love him anymore.

The apartment was cold, painfully so.

A stillness had crept in like a fog, dense and unmoving, wrapping around your chest until breathing started to feel like effort. You sat on one end of the couch, legs folded beneath you, cradling a mug that had long since gone cold. Across from you, Ni-ki sat with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it held some kind of answer.

You just had an argument, the third that week, and it was only thursday. It had been like this for months, he was distant, you were sensitive, it didn't feel the same anymore, and you knew he was avoiding talking about it, but you also knew he felt it too. He responded late, he stood in the field practicing more than he should've, he made excuses for your weekly dates. And you, you were always defensive, mean even, you didn't ask him anymore about his practice, you didn't even go to his last game.

The silence had already said everything.

But you broke it. Your voice came out cracked, barely above a whisper.

“We’re not okay, are we?”

He didn’t look up. Just clenched his hands together a little tighter, eyes fixed on the carpet. After a moment, he gave the smallest shake of his head.

“No.”

That one word still managed to sting more than you'd expected.

You nodded slowly, not because you accepted it, but because you’d known. You’d known for a while now, in the way his touches had grown hesitant, in the tired tone of his voice, in the endless nights where you both turned away in bed instead of toward each other.

“I thought love would be enough,” you whispered.

“I did too,” he said. And it sounded like regret. Not the sharp kind, the quiet kind that eats away at you, slowly.

You looked at him then. The dark circles under his eyes. The tension in his shoulders. The way his mouth was pressed in a hard line, like he was holding something in.

“Do you still love me?”

The question left your mouth before you could stop it.

His head finally lifted, and his eyes met yours.

“God, I love you so much it makes me feel sick sometimes.”

You let out a soft, hollow laugh. He was like this, even in these moments, he made you laugh. And that made the pain even worse.

“Then why does it still feel like we’re losing each other?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“Because loving each other isn’t fixing us anymore.”

That broke something inside you. Not in a dramatic, shattering way. Just a slow, internal collapse. A piece of your chest folding in on itself.

“So what do we do?” you asked.

He stood, slowly, like the weight of the moment made his movements heavier, and crossed the room. When he sank to the floor in front of you, kneeling like he used to when you’d come home upset from school or work, it almost felt like the past was reaching for you.

Almost.

“We let go,” he whispered. “Before we ruin the good we had.”

You blinked hard. Your throat burned.

“I don’t want to let go of you.”

“I don’t want to either,” he admitted, and his voice was shaking now. “But I think we have to.”

You put the mug down, and slid off the couch to the floor beside him. His hands were there, right in front of you, shaking. You reached for them, familiar, warm, still his, and he didn’t pull away.

“I thought we’d be forever,” you said.

“We were, for a while,” he murmured. “We grew up together. We made each other who we are. But maybe we can’t carry each other anymore.”

Tears finally spilled down your cheeks. Quiet. Steady.

“I don’t hate you,” you whispered. “Even after this.”

“Don’t say that,” he replied, voice cracking. “You’re making this harder.”

“It’s already hard.”

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. His hands gripped yours like lifelines. You both sat there, shaking and quiet, breathing the same air like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“I’ll love you for the rest of my life,” you whispered.

He didn’t say it back.

Not out loud.

Because if he had, if he gave that truth shape, neither of you would’ve had the strength to end it.

Eventually, you pulled back. Stood up. Grabbed your bag with trembling fingers. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, so soft it barely lingered, and you whispered goodbye.

Then you walked out.

And the door closed.

You didn’t look back.

You couldn’t.

And inside that quiet apartment, Ni-ki stayed exactly where you left him, knees to the floor, hands clenched tight, eyes fixed on nothing at all.

He didn’t cry.

Ni-ki told himself he was fine.

He smiled at the jokes, laughed at the right moments, nodded along as his friends passed around drinks and shouted over the music like the world was still spinning normally. He told himself this was what he needed, noise, people, distractions. He hadn’t been to a party like this in a long time. Maybe not since… well. Since you.

He even tried to date other girls, a lot of them, but it never worked, it didn't feel right.

And yeah, maybe his chest felt a little tight when he walked through the door and remembered that you might be here too. But the house was big. There were too many rooms, too many bodies. He could avoid you.

He could be normal.

So he leaned into the chaos. Let himself be pulled into a circle of friends, let Jake drape a lazy arm around his shoulders. He threw back a drink even though it didn’t taste like anything. His cheeks flushed from the heat of the room, from the music vibrating under his shoes, from the lie in his throat that kept repeating: I’m over it. I’m over her.

You hadn’t spoken in a year. A whole year. You’d both agreed, it was mutual. Grown-up, mature, clean, at least on the outside.

He never told anyone how many times he almost texted you. How many times he saw your old hoodie in the back of his closet and sat on the floor for hours, just holding it. How he couldn't had been able to delete your pictures from his phone, how he still heard your voice, your laughter, how even when some nights his friends insisted to him to find a casual hookup, he still wished the girl he kissed was you instead, how he missed your skin, your smell, everything.

And now here he was, dancing, joking, breathing. Existing without you.

He was fine.

Until he saw you.

You were across the room, bathed in purple lights, laughing at something your friend said. You moved with the music in that way you always did, like you weren’t thinking about it, like it was just instinct. Your body knew rhythm like your heart used to know his.

You looked beautiful.

You always did. But tonight you looked like you’d healed. Like you’d finally started to live again. And maybe you had. Maybe you had moved on. Maybe that smile was real. Maybe your shoulders weren’t heavy with memories anymore.

And Ni-ki’s heart twisted violently in his chest.

The room blurred around you, sound dampened by the roar in his ears. That lie in his throat, the one he’d been chanting all night — I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine — suddenly felt so small. So pathetic.

Because the truth was: seeing you, dancing like you’d never broken, like he wasn’t still holding pieces of you deep inside his ribs… it made him ache.

So he swallowed hard, turned his face away, and tried to laugh again at whatever joke his friend made.

But it didn’t convince this time.

You weren’t even sure how you ended up in the bathroom without passing out. One minute you were clutching your drink too tightly, laughing with your friend, pretending not to feel the way you were feeling just from seeing him. And the next, your legs were moving on their own, taking you down the hallway, slipping into the first open door you could find.

You exhaled sharply, fingers trembling as you tried to breathe past the knot in your throat. You didn’t want to cry. You hadn’t cried in months. Not since the night you left his apartment and didn’t look back.

You told yourself you were over it. That time had dulled the edges. That the ache had turned into something distant, something manageable.

But then you saw him tonight. 

Even if just for a second.

And suddenly everything hurt again.

Your reflection stared back at you in the mirror, all mascara, glossed lips, and shaky composure. You looked pretty. You looked hot. You looked like you were doing okay. And somehow that made it worse.

Because underneath it, you weren’t okay at all.

Not with the music thumping downstairs. Not with the memory of his eyes on you. Not with the echo of his voice in your head, low, soft, saying your name the way no one else ever had. Not with that ugly, dirty, pain that was creeping inside of your chest.

Your breath caught. You squeezed your eyes shut.

God, just stop. Get it together.

But it was already too late.

A sob tore through your chest, sudden and violent, catching you off guard.

And then you were sinking to the edge of the tub, hands covering your face, shoulders trembling as everything you’d kept buried clawed its way out. The kind of crying that didn’t come with neat tears, this was messy, raw, gasping for air.

The pain, the longing, the regret, it all spilled out at once.

You missed him.

You missed the way things used to be, late-night phone calls, tangled limbs on lazy mornings, the way he knew you without words. You missed his teasing, his laugh, the way he looked at you, the way he kissed you. You missed how you two owned every room you walked into, because everybody said how powerful you looked together, and he would always smile proudly and kiss your cheek. You missed your best friend. You missed feeling understood.

And you hated that you still wanted him.

You hated that even now, after all the silence, he still had this power over you.

“…Y/N?”

His voice made your stomach drop.

For a moment, all you could hear was the thudding of the music through the floor and the sound of your own uneven breathing. Then slowly, you looked up, eyes still glassy and lashes wet, and there he was, standing in the doorway like a ghost you hadn’t meant to summon.

Ni-ki.

Your heart lurched painfully in your chest.

He looked startled, like he hadn’t meant to walk in, like he was just looking for a break from the noise and accidentally stepped straight into a minefield. His hand stayed on the door, fingers curled tightly around the handle as if ready to bolt.

His eyes flicked across the room, the light still on, your body slumped near the tub, the flush on your cheeks that had nothing to do with alcohol.

“Oh—shit,” he stammered. "Sorry, i didn’t know anyone was in here.”

You flinched, quickly turning your face away, swiping at your cheeks in a panic. You couldn't let him see you like this, not when this was literally the first time he saw you in a year.

“It’s—fine. Whatever. Just go.”

You couldn’t even look at him.

He didn’t move. And then he noticed.

He noticed the trembling of your hands, the uneven rise and fall of your chest, the way your eyes were rimmed red and glassy, not from drinking. Not even close.

“Are you…” His voice softened, but it cracked at the end. “Are you crying?”

“No,” you bit out too fast, scrambling to stand up. You faced the mirror instead of him, avoiding your own reflection just as much. “I’m just...drunk. That’s all. I’m fine.”

You reached for a paper towel, wiping under your eyes as if you could erase everything, the tears, the pain, the year that had cracked you open and left you raw. You didn’t want him to see this. Not like this. Not when you’d worked so hard to pretend like you were okay.

God, this was the worst-case scenario. Out of all the people to see you like this, it had to be him.

He didn’t move. He just stood there in the doorway, looking at you like he didn’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth.

You hated that.

You hated how well he still knew you.

“You’re not drunk,” he said quietly.

“Yes, I am.” You let out a shaky, fake laugh, pushing your hair back. “I’m totally wasted. That drink was—like, way too strong.”

“Y/N.”

You looked up.

His eyes met yours, soft, hesitant, breaking at the edges. You felt it like a wave crashing over both of you. The weight of everything unsaid. The months of silence. The way this bathroom felt like the only place in the world right now.

You swallowed hard, backing up a step toward the sink.

His brows were drawn together, his mouth parted, unsure. You hated how much you still remembered the way that mouth felt on your skin. You hated that even now, with all this space between you, his presence still made your stomach twist and your heart ache in places you swore had healed.

“I said I’m fine,” you lied again, sharper this time, but your voice shook at the edges, betraying you.

And still, he didn’t leave. Instead, Ni-ki stepped fully into the room and quietly shut the door behind him.

You blinked.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, and for a second, something flickered across his face, panic, maybe. Or guilt. “I just… I couldn’t walk away. Not when you’re like this.”

The silence after that was suffocating.

You stood facing the mirror, gripping the edge of the sink, your knuckles white. You felt him behind you. Close. Not touching, but there. And suddenly it was all too much, the scent of his cologne that hadn’t changed, the gentle thud of the music behind the walls, the ghost of his name still ringing in your chest.

“I didn’t want to see you tonight,” you whispered. 

“I know,” he said, barely audible. “Me neither.”

You felt him take another step forward, slow and hesitant, like he was afraid you might break again if he came too close, and you flinched slightly, tears starting to fall again down your cheeks, you wiped them fast as he talked again, his voice was barely a breath.

“Y/N… can I—?”

“No,” you said sharply, pulling away before he could reach you.

His hand hovered uselessly in the air for a moment before falling back to his side. You couldn’t even look at him now. You were afraid if you did, you’d fall apart all over again. And you knew he hated to see you like this, because he hated when you cried, but he hated even more when he knew he was the reason.

“I’m just trying to—”

“To what, Ni-ki?” you snapped, your voice brittle. “Make me feel better? Fix it? You can’t. You can’t just walk in here after a year and—what—play concerned ex-boyfriend while I’m falling apart?”

“I never stopped caring about you,” he said quietly, and it hurt more than you thought it would.

The silence between you stretched like a tight wire, humming with everything unsaid. You could feel him watching you, not just with his eyes, but with everything in him, like he didn’t know whether to reach out or run.

You knew you should just walk away, but you couldn't. It was too much, too much and you needed to say it, for once and for all. Because it wasn't the breakup itself, it was the fact that, after months of distance from him, he still let you walk away that day, he still didn't fight, he still didn't care.

You tried to keep your breathing steady, tried to blink away the burning in your eyes. But the second you opened your mouth, your voice trembled.

“You let me walk away.”

Ni-ki froze.

Your throat closed up. You swallowed hard, your chest aching, your hands shaking, the memory of that day a year ago still fresh and burning in your mind.

“I waited for you. For a day. A week. A month. I kept thinking you’d come back. That you’d knock on my door. Say you changed your mind. But you didn’t.”

He stepped forward, but you held up a hand, not touching him, just keeping him at that same unbearable distance. Close enough to feel, but not to hold.

“You didn’t even try, Ni-ki,” you whispered. “You didn’t chase me. You didn’t stop me that night. I was waiting for you to say something, anything, to make me stay.”

He looked gutted.

“I didn’t know what to say,” he said, his voice breaking like glass. “I was scared I’d say the wrong thing again.”

“So you said nothing?” you snapped. “You let everything we built just… end? We were together for years. Since we were kids. I loved you so much it scared me. And when things got hard, I thought we were supposed to fight for each other. I thought you would fight for me.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again. His eyes were shining now.

“I wanted to,” he rasped. “You think I didn’t want to? Every night, I would stare at my phone. I’d go to your street and just sit there, not knowing if I’d have the courage to knock.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I thought I broke you,” he said, his voice cracking fully now. “I thought I wasn’t enough. And I knew you deserved better than a guy who kept shutting down. Who didn’t know how to fix things without making it worse.”

You blinked, a tear slipping free.

“I didn’t need you to fix everything. I needed you to try. I was willing to hold on through anything. But you let go first.”

He looked like he couldn’t breathe. His chest was rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.

“I punished myself every day for that.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The ache in your chest was growing too loud to speak over.

“I still dream about it,” he whispered. “The way you looked at me before you left. You were waiting for me to stop you. And I just stood there, like a coward. I should’ve said something. I should’ve begged.”

You let out a broken sound, something between a sob and a laugh.

“I kept wondering if you ever missed me,” you said. “If you were out there forgetting me while I was remembering every piece of you. I would’ve taken you back, you know. Even after everything. You just had to say you wanted me.”

Ni-ki took another step toward you, slower this time. His eyes were glassy, a tear slipping down his cheek, unbothered and unhidden.

“I never stopped wanting you.”

His voice was hoarse, strangled, like it cost him everything to say it.

“I just didn’t think I deserved you anymore.”

The words knocked the air out of your lungs.

“Then you never really knew me,” you whispered, eyes blurring. “Because I wasn’t asking you to be perfect. I just needed you to be there. To not give up on me.”

He let out a soft, broken sound and finally, finally his face cracked. His shoulders curled inward like they were folding under the weight of everything he’d buried, and the tears came hard now, slipping past his lashes in streaks down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve fought. I should’ve followed you that night. I was scared and selfish and so, so wrong—”

You covered your mouth with your hand, a sob ripping through you as your body shook.

The bathroom felt too small for the pain in both your chests.

Ni-ki took one more step, close now, barely a breath away, but still not touching you. His hands hovered, trembling at his sides.

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispered. “I just didn’t know how to hold on without breaking you more.”

You shook your head, tears running freely now.

“You broke me because you let go.”

Neither of you moved. Neither of you looked away.

And there it was, both of you standing in the ruins of what could’ve been, hearts cracked wide open, trying to figure out if love was still enough.

For a moment, the only sound in the bathroom was your breathing, shallow, uneven, and Ni-ki’s quiet sniffle as he dragged the back of his hand under his nose. The silence didn’t feel awkward anymore. It felt sacred. Heavy. Like you were standing in the middle of something fragile and precious, even if it was painful.

You looked up at him, and god, he looked beautiful in the saddest way possible.

His dark lashes were damp, clumped together from tears. His eyes were glassy, swollen around the edges, and red like he’d been holding everything in for too long. A tear still lingered on his cheekbone, catching the light, and his lips were parted just slightly, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t trust his voice not to crack again. His hair was a little messy, falling into his eyes, and his chest rose and fell like every breath physically hurt.

You had never seen him like this. And still, even with tear tracks down his face and his hands trembling, he was heartbreakingly beautiful. He always had been. Even more so now, undone like this, human, soft, real.

And then his eyes met yours again.

You felt the burn of emotion rise again in your chest as you realized how you must’ve looked, mascara smudged under your eyes, lips swollen from biting down to stop yourself from sobbing, your dress wrinkled where your hands had clutched it too tightly. Your cheeks were damp, and your nose was red, and your shoulders shook with every shaky inhale.

But Ni-ki looked at you like you were still the only person in the world.

Like you hadn’t changed at all, like you were still his.

His gaze dragged over your features slowly, memorizing them like he hadn’t been doing that all night from afar.

“You’re still so…” he started, but the words caught in his throat. His voice cracked, softer this time. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

It was breathless. Honest. And it shattered something deep in your chest.

You let out a shaky breath, your bottom lip trembling.

“You too,” you whispered.

And somehow, even though you were both crying, both a mess, standing there in your sadness, you’d never looked at each other with more love.

Tears rolled silently down Ni-ki’s cheeks again, but he didn’t look away. Neither did you.

It was like time froze for a second. Just long enough to remember: this was the same boy you used to wake up next to, who used to trace your face with the tip of his finger just because he liked how you looked in the morning. And you were the same girl who used to kiss him just because he blinked too slowly when he was tired.

You were still them. Maybe older. Maybe a little more broken. But still you.

And god, even now, even in this , you were beautiful to each other.

He stepped forward.

You didn’t move. You should have, should’ve stepped back, should’ve put space between you, should’ve remembered that there were reasons why you’d walked away in the first place. But your feet stayed rooted, breath caught in your throat as his hand hovered just beside your face. Not touching, just waiting.

You could feel the warmth of his palm in the air, trembling.

And when his eyes dropped to your lips for just a second, you whispered, barely a sound, almost a breath.

“Ni-ki…”

“I know,” he said softly. “You don’t have to… I just—” His voice cracked again. “I missed you so much it fucking ruined me. I haven't seen you in a year, and i missed you.”

Your chest squeezed.

“I missed your voice,” he whispered, inching closer, heart in his throat. “Your laugh. Your hands. Your body. I couldn’t touch anyone else — I couldn’t even look at anyone else without seeing you.”

A whimper broke from your throat before you could stop it.

Your hands found his chest, not to pull him closer — not yet — but to push. You pressed against him with weak palms, shaking your head even as your tears fell faster.

“No,” you murmured. “This is a bad idea. We're in the bathroom and we're—”

“—not over each other,” he finished, voice shaking. “And we both know it.”

You opened your mouth, but he was already leaning in, slow, giving you every second to stop him. And still, you didn’t move. You wanted to push him away, your fingers flexed against his chest, trying, pleading with yourself, but the second his lips brushed yours, all of that fight melted into ache.

You gasped. And in that gasp, something in you broke.

You leaned in.

The kiss was nothing like how you remembered it, not soft, not sweet. It was hungry. Shaky. A collision of breath and tears and aching mouths trying to say everything they never got to. His hands cupped your jaw like you’d slip away if he let go. You gripped his shirt with trembling fists, pulling him closer until your bodies were flush, and your kiss deepened with a sob caught between your teeth.

You could taste the salt of your tears. His too.

You kissed him like you needed it to breathe. He kissed you like he never thought he’d get to again.

It was clumsy, noses bumping, lips trembling. He sighed into your mouth when your hands slid into his hair, and you felt him shudder as you pressed closer. The kiss felt like a cry, like mourning, like longing, like every what if that had haunted you since that night.

When you finally pulled away, barely a breath between you, his forehead dropped to yours.

Neither of you said anything.

Your tears had stopped, but your eyes still burned. His thumbs brushed your cheeks, tender, reverent, like he didn’t know how to hold you anymore but was desperate to remember.

Your breathing was still shaky, but his lips were still so close, warm, trembling, parted like he was caught between apology and need. His hands hadn’t left your face, his thumb still brushing over your cheek, tender like he was scared you’d disappear if he touched you too hard.

But when your eyes fluttered open and met his again, something shifted.

You didn’t know who leaned in first. Maybe it was you. Maybe it was him. But suddenly, your mouths collided again, harder this time, not rushed, but desperate. Desperate to feel something real. To drown in it. To let it hurt and heal at the same time.

This kiss wasn’t careful.

His hand slipped into your hair, gripping gently but firmly, angling your face to deepen it. Your fingers clutched his shoulders, sliding around his neck, dragging him impossibly closer as you parted your lips for him. And when his tongue brushed yours, soft, tentative, like he didn’t want to push too far too fast, you whimpered into his mouth, and he groaned quietly like the sound broke something inside him.

He tasted like salt and need, like everything you missed.

Your bodies pressed flush, your chest heaving against his, his fingers trailing down to your waist where they held you like he couldn’t bear to let go again. You tilted your head, kissing him deeper, slower, your hips shifting just slightly and making him suck in a sharp breath.

“God,” he whispered against your lips, voice wrecked. “You still feel the same.”

You didn’t reply. You didn’t need to.

The way your nails grazed the back of his neck, the way your mouth clung to his like it was the last thing tethering you to the earth, it said everything.

Ni-ki’s kisses turned rougher with every second, still emotional, still laced with that aching kind of sadness, but growing hotter, heavier. He kissed you like he didn’t know where to put all of his grief, like this was the only way to survive it. And you gave into it just the same, kissed him with all the pain you never let yourself feel, every soft thing you buried just to get through the days without him.

Your tears had dried, but the emotion was still there, in the way you gasped when his teeth grazed your bottom lip, in the quiet moan you choked down when his hand gripped your waist tighter.

It wasn’t just a kiss.

It was everything you hadn’t said. Everything you’d swallowed. Every lonely night. Every almost-text. Every time you saw his name and looked away.

And for the first time in a year, you felt alive.

When you finally pulled back, gasping for air, his forehead dropped against yours again, both of you dizzy and breathless.

He was staring at you like you were a miracle.

His hands roamed gently, tracing over your back like he was trying to relearn you with his palms, not rushing, not pushing, just feeling. Every inch he touched sent warmth spreading through your skin, not from lust, but from the way it was him. The only person who ever made you feel this full and this fragile at once.

Your mouths found each other again, slower now, deeper, like you were sinking into him, like the ache wasn’t enough unless it lingered.

He kissed down the corner of your mouth, over your jaw, his lips brushing your skin like a secret. Your breath hitched when he reached the spot just beneath your ear, his voice low and raw, full of things he hadn’t dared say before now.

“I used to dream about this,” he murmured, lips brushing your skin with every word. “Touching you again. Kissing you like this. You have no idea what it did to me—wanting you and not being allowed to have you.”

You shivered under his touch, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer. He kissed your neck, just once, slow and hot, then dragged his lips back to yours, softer this time, but no less desperate.

“You’re still the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered against your mouth. “Even when you’re crying.”

You let out a sound between a laugh and a sob, kissing him harder just to shut him up, because your heart couldn’t take it.

“You were always mine,” he breathed, kissing you again. “Even when I had to pretend you weren’t.”

His hands gripped your waist now, sliding beneath your dress just resting there, his thumbs stroking your skin lightly, reverently.

“I missed your skin,” he said, voice ragged. “Missed the way you’d melt the second I touched you. Missed the way you’d whisper my name.”

You pulled back, just an inch, just enough to breathe, just enough to look at him. His eyes were glassy, lips red and swollen, and he looked like a boy on the edge of a cliff, waiting for you to tell him whether to jump or step back.

“I’m not drunk,” you whispered, as if admitting it made it more real. “I know what this is.”

“So do I,” he replied softly. “I’m not touching you because I’m drunk. I’m touching you because I still love you.”

And then he kissed you again, deep, slow, filled with everything he couldn’t say all at once. His hand slid up your back, the other cupping your jaw like you were made of glass and he was terrified of breaking you. But he needed to hold you, to feel you, to convince himself this wasn’t another dream.

Every brush of his fingers was light, meaningful, the kind of touch that said he remembered everything. The way you liked to be held. The spots that made you breathe harder. The pace that made your knees weak.

His lips returned to your ear, voice so low it barely reached over the sound of your own heartbeat.

“I want to make you feel good again,” he whispered. “Like I used to. Just… let me have you for a little while.”

You shivered, but not from the cold.

Because you already had.

You never stopped being his.

[anaargent]

Touch games

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Five Hargreeves slowly turning from a grumpy, grumpy old man into a touch-starved mass. . .

It started with gentle hand touches, initially Five looked confused and ripped his hands from yours as he asked, “What the hell is this?” with a stunned and disgusted expression. “A handshake?” you answer simplistically, removing the hands he had methodically tucked into his coat and grabbing them again. “To maintain your disguise you need to walk closer and less robotic, grandpa, don’t act like you’ve never held a hand in your life.” After a few tries Five got used to walking closer, his hands gently reaching for yours unconsciously, holding them absently as they walked, ensuring you were on the safer side of the street, still with a scowl on his face.

.

After your initial aversion, the quick touches to your hair began - it's messy - you say absently, brushing away some strands that fell on Five's forehead, who had remained silent, eyes wide as he watched you smile when your bangs were finally in place, clearing your throat and letting out a half-strangled "hm, thank you". After that, your fingers automatically fixed Five's hairstyle, smiling proudly at him and leaving after a simple - now you're presentable - never seeing the young man's slight blush on his cheeks and the breath he had held being released in a stunned huff.

.

Five was confused, he considered himself a controlled person, always having total control of his reactions and actions, he wondered why he couldn't prepare himself for every time you came towards him and entered his personal space, what had once been irritation was slowly becoming anticipation. His eyes darted to follow you when you entered the same room, silently hoping that you would come to him to complain about something stupid that your brothers did that irritated you. He found himself listening carefully to every word, noticing the little tics as you released all the frustration of the day and in the end you seemed at peace again.

- Maybe it was the coexistence - Five said to himself, trying to deal with emotions that were certainly not in his life curriculum - I see her every day, I must have gotten used to her nonsense, just like Klaus - he continues to grumble as he searches for his favorite chocolate at the convenience store he had stopped at on the way home - with that loud and annoying voice... that beautiful idiotic smile - he stopped himself, shaking his head in contradiction - no, no, just a stupid smile, nothing pretty!

He hurriedly left the market, with a bag of chocolates in his hand.

.

Five slowly found himself tangled in a spider's web, what was once a cold and centered posture turning into a needy and insatiable teenager. He tried to control himself, tried not to reach for your hand when you were walking close to each other, or not to smile like an idiot when you patted his hair after he was kind to your brothers - finally a good guy - you smiled as you stroked Five's head, so oblivious to the effects you caused, the gears in the boy's mind stopping to turn as I felt a cozy warmth envelop him.

Or so he thought.

You were aware of the reactions and the subtle change in Five, from the nervous smiles, the hands pretending to brush against yours as you walked, his green eyes always chasing yours, the slight tilt every time he was sarcastic and expected a witty response from you, receiving it with a proud smile. You were aware of all of this, and you wanted to see how far you could take that tempting joke, how the touches seemed to feed something dormant in Five and in his always so rigid posture, an overwhelming curiosity to see what could be awakened in him. You didn't expect him to explode so quickly.

At little Grace's party there was a big reunion, the whole family together again. You and Five came together, your hands firmly clasped in Five's, it was almost natural, if it weren't for the small hesitation before the act

- I hope she likes our gift - you sigh nervously, looking at the package that Five carried in his other arm - you picked up the biggest and brightest unicorn in the store, she'll love it - Five offers you a loving smile and a light squeeze of your hand, seeing your relieved expression - do you swear? - I'm sure of it - Five assures as he opens the door for you to enter the party - a gentleman - you smile playfully - only with you - Five answers sarcastically, hiding the butterflies shaking his stomach with a fake cough, taking off his coats and pulling you to where everyone was gathered.

In the middle of the party you ended up moving away from Five and the others, lost in the middle of so many people and children everywhere. The party was almost over, there were balloons on the floor, the balls of lights spinning

- yeah, it's you and me, Bobby - you grumble, sitting at a table away from the center of the party, toasting with the huge blue bear from the decoration that kept you company during the night - maybe I'll give you my cute number your naughty little thing.

- y/n! - Five suddenly appears, with his tie badly tied, his hair a mess - Five? What happened? Is everyone okay? - you get up and go to the man who was on your mind all night, placing your hands on his shoulders. Five relaxed with the touch, feeling the withdrawal that was growing in him ease a little - where were you? - you are shocked when you come across the needy tone in his voice.

Five Hargreeves, the same Five who told you that after so many years in the apocalypse he didn't feel like having any company. He was in front of you with a helpless appearance, his eyes tearing up a little as he sniffed softly - I looked for you all night, Klaus... Klaus said that maybe you were with someone more interesting.

You laugh, what else could you do in those circumstances? After all the games of accidental touches, of approaching as cautiously as possible so that Five wouldn't think you were a threat and accidentally stab you during the night. Was he worried that you had someone else in your life? - Seriously Five? - You smile at him - Who would be as interesting as an old man in the body of an adult who has lived through countless apocalypses?

-I...i- Five tries to think, his mind clouded between insecurities and silly fears, he didn't find himself attractive enough for you to really consider him as an option. The guy had more trust issues than a war veteran - I'm paranoid - he tells him that you're done with it - And? - You ask, waiting for more. - Me - He hesitates a little - I'm controlling, grumpy most of the time, I use sarcasm as a defense mechanism, I have a gun under my pillow because I can't sleep without thinking that we might be attacked during the night. And there would probably be a bomb bunker in the garden.

- It sounds tempting to me - you smile, wrapping your arms around Five's neck - I can deal with underground bunkers and some anti-theft traps in the house - you say, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. Five freezes, his heart beating like crazy, he was in front of the person he wanted to have the most, and who deserved the least. He was a mess, yet, with everything you saw, you were still in front of him, with a perfectly placed smile on your beautiful face, waiting for something. Waiting for him.

Five then throws the blocks to the wind, maybe he would regret it, maybe he would wake up tomorrow knowing that he pulled you straight into trouble, but you would be there with him. So maybe it wouldn't be so bad. - We-we can have a dog - he says with the shadow of a small smile wanting to leave his lips. - Or two - you say finally pulling him for a kiss.

It was soft, insecure, perhaps a little cautious in the new field you were entering, your lips were warm and soft, and they moved slowly, your hands snaking through Five's hair, while he brought his hands to your hips, pulling you closer. Becoming bolder, you deepen the kiss, your tongue invading Five's mouth, the taste of liquor filling your mind, while everything seemed more intense and intense. When you finally pull away to take a deep breath, Five's eyes are already searching yours, his angelic eyes had a mischievous glint, something hungry lurking in the innocent features on his face. His hands are still wrapped around your waist, not letting you go that far

- can we go home? - he asks in a husky, thick voice. The sound causes a tremor in your body, the anticipation of the indirect suggestion filling your chest - I thought you would never invite me - you respond by pulling him into another passionate kiss while letting out a mischievous chuckle

[trashytracktales]

Okay i don’t know if you’re still receiving requests so 😭 but i absolutely ADORED inked and it actually inspired me for a request and you’re literally the only one who could give it justice. hopefully😔

so imagine reader not being able to cum for the past few times they had sex, maybe because she was stressed for work/exams/adult life and she hasn’t told lando because she feels bad for it and she doesn’t think it’s his fault. so when he finds out there’s a lil discussion and he PROMISE he SWEARS he will make it his mission on earth to help her to get out of her head and relax and enjoy herself and what they’re doing and he’s like WHATEVER IT TAKES you will orgasm again i promise, even if it takes all night!!

so he’s a man on a mission and when he succeeds they have their best sex ever and she’s having the best orgasm of her life! fireworks !!!!! 🥹🥹

The finish line | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── So… ✌🏻😗 I usually go with the flow when I’m writing, and for this one, it felt right to leave it at THAT (you’ll see). Don’t worry, there are fireworks and Lando achieved his goal. However, I felt it in my bones to keep this one leaning more on the emotional side, because sometimes, less is more. Enjoy!!

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⤿ PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOTS: Inked, Winning hand, Seasons change.

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. ݁₊ ⊹ summary ──── While Lando is sound asleep after a passionate night together, she wakes up restless and frustrated, unable to ignore the weight of her own insecurities.

. ݁₊ ⊹ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

. ݁₊ ⊹ rating ──── explicit

. ݁₊ ⊹ category ──── F/M

. ݁₊ ⊹ warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, smut, mentions of sexual frustration and insecurity, emotional vulnerability such as crying and self-doubt, masturbation, obsessive behavior, fingering, swearing, use of praise and mild dominance, begging & desperation, overstimulation.

. ݁₊ ⊹ word count ──── 4.5k

. ݁₊ ⊹ date ──── Jan. 29, 2025

. ݁₊ ⊹ a/n ──── I know I sound like a broken record, but I don’t want you guys to think that I’m lying. THIS is the current state of my inbox:

Just know that I am trying, but at the end of the day, I’m literally just a girl 🎀 If I didn’t post your request yet, thank you for your patience, I’ll eventually (hopefully) get to it.

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THE BEDSHEETS ARE rumpled, and there is a faint scent of sweat and sex that lingers in the air. Lando sleeps peacefully on his stomach, his arm draped lazily over her waist. His soft snores are the only sound that animate the room, but inside her head, her thoughts are louder.

It’s late, and she should be exhausted; well, she is, but mostly on a mental level. Her body feels heavy and restless, the glow of their earlier intimacy only temporarily satisfying a more deeper need that refuses to fade, no matter what she does. Her skin feels hot, especially where he touches her, and her mind races with thoughts she can’t control.

At this point, it’s been too long.

She shifts in different positions, and when it gets too much, quietly, she slips out of the bed, careful not to wake Lando, and pads her way to the bathroom. The cool tiles under her feet send a shiver down her spine as she closes the door behind her with a mellow click.

She splashes cold water on her face, hoping that she’ll wash away every little doubt that way. The shock of it is prickling her skin, but it does little to cool the constant heat simmering beneath the surface. Involuntarily, her thighs press together in a failed attempt to soothe the ache that refuses to dissipate.

Small droplets of water slide down her cheeks as she raises her head, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her lips are parted, her breathing uneven, and her eyes betray the storm churning inside her. It’s become an obsessive ritual, one she can’t seem to give up until she gets all the answers. The shame coils tight in her stomach, a mix of desperation and anger at herself.

Why couldn’t she just let it go?

Why couldn’t she figure out what was wrong?

Her reflection doesn’t offer any of those answers — only a silent, maddening reminder of how close she always gets before it slips away, like sand through her fingers.

She lets out a frustrated exhale, while grabbing a towel from the rack with trembling hands, shaking it out before folding it in half and laying it on the floor. Carefully, she lowers herself onto it, her back pressing against the cold porcelain of the bathtub. The chill bites at her skin, but it keeps her guarded. She pulls her knees up slightly, legs spreading just enough to give her the space she needs, the vulnerability of the position making her heart race. Her fingers tremble as they trace the edge of the oversized t-shirt she’s wearing, closing her eyes to gather the remaining pieces of her patience.

The bathroom is tenderly lit by a single lamp above the mirror, casting a silver glow on her flushed face and the sheen of sweat clinging to her skin.

Weakly, she starts circling her fingers with increasing desperation, her slick heat betraying the arousal that never seems to reach its peak. Her breaths grow shallow, her movements frantic, but no matter how hard she tries, the pleasure stalls, hovering just out of reach. Irritation claws at her chest as her thighs tremble, the pressure building only to evaporate moments later, like a cruel joke.

Tears blur her vision as she slows, finally giving up, her head falling back. A sob escapes her lips, her mind spiraling into dark thoughts, and she pulls the towel tighter around her as if it can shield her from her own failure.

Back in their the bedroom, Lando stirs. His hand instinctively reaches out to her side of the bed, but the cool, empty sheets pull him out of his catatonic state. Half-asleep, his head lifts as he scans the room, his hair mussed and eyes hazy; it’s the faint, muffled sound that wakes him up completely. A muted cry, that he’s easily able to recognize.

His heart lurches, and he’s on his feet instantly, tugging on a pair of boxers. He follows the sound to the bathroom door, pressing his ear to it. The cries are clearer now, but they’re not purely sad — they’re mixed with hushed panting.

His brows knit together, and without thinking, Lando knocks. “Everything okay, love?” his voice is thick with sleep and worry.

She doesn’t answer.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Lando insists, tightening his grip on the doorknob.

Inside, she’s too caught up in her own world to hear anything else. Her hands finally drop to her sides as she lets out another defeated sob, the tears spilling freely on her cheeks. She feels raw and vulnerable, unable to understand why her body is betraying her like this.

Sounding more concerned now, Lando knocks harder this time. “Babe, I’m coming in, alright?”

The door creaks as he steps inside, and the sight before him makes him stop in his tracks. She’s sitting there, legs spread, flushed and teary-eyed, her chest rising and falling in erratic breaths. His mind takes a second to catch up to what’s happening, his gaze flickering from her damp cheeks to the towel beneath her and then finally to the source of her breakdown.

Her eyes widen when she realizes she’s not alone anymore, and she quickly moves to close her legs, her face burning with embarrassment.

“Lando—” she begins, but her voice dies in her throat.

He’s frozen for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest, but then he steps closer, crouching down in front of her. His hands reach for hers, gently prying them away from where she’s trying to cover herself.

“Don’t do that,” says Lando in a tender voice. “What’s going on, babe? Talk to me.”

She looks away, the shame too much to bear. “I don’t know,” she stammers, her voice a small whisper. “I can’t—”

“Can’t what?” he prompts gently, brushing a stray tear from her cheek.

She lets out a shaky exhale, avoiding his gaze. “I’ve been trying so hard, but I just—I can’t finish,” she admits finally, her voice breaking.

Lando’s expression softens, and he cups her face, tilting it up to meet his eyes. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asks, his voice low but laced with concern.

She laughs dryly, “And say what? It’s fine, Lando. I didn’t want to bother you,” she replies, sniffling. “You were sleeping so peacefully, and I thought I could just handle it myself.”

His lips quirk into a tiny, understanding smile. “Baby, you’re never a bother to me,” he murmurs, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. “You know that, right?”

She nods weakly, her lips trembling as fresh tears threaten to spill. Lando doesn’t hesitate, sitting down beside her on the bathroom floor, the cool tiles pressing against his bare legs.

His hand moves tentatively to her knee, but he stops just short, his eyes searching hers. “Can I touch you?” he asks patiently.

Her nod is almost imperceptible, but it’s enough for him. He places his hand on her knee, his thumb tracing soothing circles over her skin. He’s quiet for a moment, trying to figure out how to approach the situation, but his concern outweighs his uncertainty.

“Come on, baby. It’s just us,” he says, his tone earnest. “What’s really been bothering you?”

She hesitates, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her — his — old t-shirt. The weight of the truth feels too heavy, but his steady presence makes it easier to breathe.

Finally, she exhales shakily and confesses, “I… I haven’t had an orgasm in three weeks.”

Her words hang in the air, and Lando blinks, his brows furrowing in concern. “Three weeks?” he repeats, raising his eyebrows in surprise, as if he’s trying to wrap his head around it.

She nods again, her eyes fixed on the floor. “Look. It’s not you, Lando. I love being with you, and I love the way you make me feel,” she pauses, her voice trembling, and the tears come again, “I think something’s wrong with me. I’m so—I’m sorry, this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Her shoulders shake as she cries, and Lando’s heart breaks, seeing her in such distress. He shifts closer, wrapping his arms around her gently, his hand resting on the back of her head.

“Don’t do that to yourself,” he says in a soothing tone. “There’s nothing wrong with you. I promise.”

“You don’t know, Lan,” she sobs into his chest, her hands clutching his bicep. “I... don’t know what else could be wrong. I just. I feel broken. Every time we’ve been together these past few weeks, I’ve tried so hard,” she trails off, the weight of her words crushing her.

Lando feels something dark coiling in his chest as the realization settles like a heavy weight in his gut. Weeks. She’s been suffering in silence for weeks, lying beneath him, taking everything he gave her, and still unable to let go. His fingers twitch with the need to fix it, to wipe away every trace of frustration she’s felt, to drag her into a pleasure so deep she forgets this ever happened. But on the outside, Lando stays calm; he can’t let his frustration show, because this isn’t about him. This is about her. And he’s going to make damn sure she never has to feel like this again.

But… how could he have been so clueless?

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asks in a weak tone, pulling back just enough to look at her.

“I didn’t want to ruin things for you,” she admits, her voice barely audible. “You’ve been so busy lately, and I didn’t want to add to your stress. But it’s not your fault,” she reassures him. “It’s not. It’s me, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

Her words cut through him, and he shakes his head, his hand cupping her cheek. “Stop saying that, you’re not doing anything wrong,” says Lando firmly, his voice filled with conviction. “God. Whatever this is, it’s not on you, okay?”

She sniffles, her lip trembling as she looks up at him. “But it feels like it is. Like my body’s just failing me all of a sudden.”

Lando’s jaw flexes, and he feels a sudden pang of anger — not at her, but at himself for not paying enough attention. For being so blind.

“I’m sorry I was so busy and distracted. I should’ve known something was off,” he sighs, voice filled with regret. “I feel so bloody stupid for not noticing how much you’ve been struggling.”

“You’re not—” she says quickly, but he cuts her off.

“No, baby. I should’ve seen that you were hurting.”

Her breath hitches at the sincerity in his voice. “I didn’t want you to see. It’s fine, just… I don’t know what am I supposed to do now,” she whispers, her voice losing intensity.

Lando’s words come out so determined next time he speaks, “We’ll take our time, and we’ll work through it together.”

She looks at him, wanting to believe him, but she’s too caught up in her own head. Without thinking, her hands start trembling as they push against his chest, desperate to get some distance.

“No,” her voice is cracking. “No, you deserve better than—gosh, this so unfair. I’m always so close, and then I lose it. This never happened to me before.”

She covers her face with her hands, squeezing her eyes shut and hoping that next time she’ll open them, everything will get back to normal. But she knows it’s not that simple, so she stays like that, pressing the bridges of her palms on her eyelids until she sees white, sparkly dots.

Lando stiffens momentarily, the weight of her words sinking in. Her pushing him away stings, but he doesn’t let it show, and he doesn’t let it deter him, either. Instead, Lando leans forward, wrapping his arms around her from behind, holding her close even as she tries to fold in on herself.

“It’s okay. We’ll get to the bottom of it,” he whispers, “Just, please. Don’t shut me out.”

She feels his steady embrace, his scent and warmth enveloping her like a protective blanket. “I don’t know what to do,” she admits again and again, hoping that she’ll eventually find an answer.

Lando presses a kiss to the top of her head and tightens his hold. “Is there something I can do? Right now? Something to make you feel even a little better?”

The question hangs in the air for a few seconds before she exhales shakily, attempting to lighten the mood with a weak, joking reply, “I’d like to have an orgasm,” she mutters with a sad laugh, but the vulnerability in her voice betrays her attempt to make light of the situation.

Lando pauses, his lips parting slightly. She feels his chest rise and fall behind her as he takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he says simply, his tone laced with quiet determination.

She turns her head to look at him, confused. “What?”

Instead of answering, he adjusts his position so that she’s sitting between his legs. His hands come to rest on her arms, and his touch is light on her skin, as if silently asking her to put her trust in him.

“Just relax,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against her ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Her shoulders tense at first, but as his hands begin to move, caressing her arms with deliberate care, she allows herself to calm down.

“You don’t need to prove anything to me,” the girl tells him, tilting her head slightly to meet his eyes. Her hand comes up to cup his jaw, her thumb brushing over his cheek. “You’re always in my mind, Lando. Always.”

Her words make his stomach flip, but he shakes his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. “That’s good, baby. But I can’t stand the thought of you feeling this way. Not when I can do something about it. So, let me try.”

He dips his head to kiss her neck, slow and measured, his lips warm against her skin. She shivers, goosebumps spreading across her arms as his hands travel up her sides, cupping her breasts lightly through her shirt. His thumbs brush over her nipples, teasing through the fabric, and her breath hitches.

“Lando…” she breathes, but her protest is weak.

“Shh,” he whispers, his lips still moving against her neck. “Let me.”

With a gentle tug, he pulls her shirt up and over her head, tossing it aside. Her bare back presses against the heat of his chest, and she leans into him instinctively, her body relaxing further. One of her hands reaches back, resting against his thigh, while the other remains on his jaw, her thumb tracing his skin absentmindedly.

His kisses grow lazier, deeper, taking his time to savor her, his hands still exploring her body with quiet reverence. When his thumb brushes over her bare nipple this time, her breath catches, and a soft moan escapes her lips.

“Better?” asks Lando quietly, the question laced with affection and a hint of teasing.

She doesn’t answer with words, only nodding as her eyes flutter shut, her body leaning fully into his.

“You’re safe with me,” he assures softly. As his lips linger on her shoulder, his hand moves lower, tracing the curve of her stomach.

Her body tenses momentarily before melting into him again, exhaling sharply when his fingers trail lower, featherlight, until they dip between her legs. He feels the slight tremble in her thighs as her body reacts, and she instinctively parts her legs for him, granting Lando all the access he needs.

Her gaze drops to his arm, watching as the veins stretch under his skin with every movement. The strength in his hand contrasts with the careful way he touches her, and she can’t help but marvel at the sight. Almost instinctively, her hand moves to cover his — not to stop him or to slow him down, but to ground herself in the moment, to feel the reality of him there with her.

“Don’t think too much, yeah?” Lando instructs her, his breath warm against her. “Focus on me. I’ve got you.”

Lando’s fingers part her folds, and he has to close his eyes at the heat and wetness he finds there, evidence of the frustration and need she had been battling. When his thumb brushes against her clit, he feels it pulse under his touch, sensitive from what she had been doing before he walked in.

“Wanna see how responsive you are?” he asks with a teasing smile, pressing his thumb firmly against her clit without moving it.

She gasps silently, but he keeps his hand steady, his other arm holding her securely against him.

“Easy, baby,” he says, his tone as soothing as ever.

He holds the pressure for a few seconds, then finally rubs slow circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Her breathing deepens, her legs shifting as he repeats the motion: firm pressure, then slow strokes, over and over. The rhythm he sets is almost hypnotic, and he feels the tension in her begin to ease as her arousal builds.

Once a new wave of wetness slicks his fingers, his lips twitch into a satisfied smile, “See that? Such a good girl,” he praises gently.

She whimpers at his words, her hips bucking slightly against his hand. He adjusts his grip, keeping her in place as his fingers move lower, teasing her entrance. He doesn’t push inside just yet, only circling the sensitive area, feeling the way her body squirms and trembles in anticipation.

“Relax for me,” he reminds her, his tone almost pleading, “I’m not going anywhere until I make a mess of you.”

She does as he says, but a soft, desperate cry still manages to escape her lips. Her arm wraps tightly around Lando’s neck, pulling him closer, her lips ghosting over his jaw as her breathing grows uneven. He presses a kiss to her temple, whispering words of encouragement, while his fingers explore her with dexterity.

“That’s it, feel me,” he soothes, his tone gentle yet commanding. “Don’t think.”

He finally pushes a finger inside her, but only the tip, teasing her repeatedly. He feels her walls soft and pillowy as he pumps it in and out, and she feels the stretch on her hole somehow differently. When he pulls out completely, her pussy clenches around nothing, instinctively trying to keep him there.

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, and he presses his lips against her hair, smiling. “There goes your needy little hole,” he says, his voice filled with quiet admiration. “Told you there’s nothing wrong with you, baby. It’s all in your pretty head.” Lando pauses, his hand still as he tilts his head closer to hers. “Let me clear it for you.”

With that, he pushes his finger all the way in this time. Her sudden gasp hits his jaw, her hips jerking forward at the sensation. He knows it’s not enough, though the way he feels her walls fluttering around him, tells Lando he is on the right path.

“Look how perfect you are,” he praises, his voice a warm caress. “You were made for this, weren’t you?”

Without warning, he adds another finger — just to prove his point — stretching her and going deeper than before. Her moan is breathless, her head tipping back as her hips grind into his hand. Lando groans, feeling the slick warmth of her around him, and the way she reacts to every little movement.

“There it is,” his low voice catches her attention, “Feel that? That’s all you, my love. You just needed to be reminded of how incredible you are.”

He finally sets a rhythm, curling his fingers just right, and her cries turn into something more profound, a broken whimper of relief and pleasure as he works her open with care.

Leaning in, Lando is capturing her lips in a urgent kiss. His tongue slides against hers, coaxing soft moans from her as his fingers keep pumping in and out of her slick heat. He spreads her wetness over her puffy folds, his other hand moving to her chest, teasing and pinching her nipple until it hardens under his touch. He’s deliberate in his movements, having one clear goal in mind: to overwhelm her senses, to pull her away from the pressure of the finish line and make her fall in love with the journey.

His fingers scissor inside her, stretching her further, before curling again, brushing over the spot that makes her cry in pleasure. He presses the bridge of his palm firmly against her clit, applying just enough pressure to have her legs trembling against him. Her breathing turns erratic, her chest rising and falling quickly as the excitement starts to blur the edges of her thoughts.

Lando’s hand never falters, burying his fingers in and out of her with just the right amount of force, the wetness between her thighs making everything slick and obscene. But then, just as the wave begins to crest, he stills. His hand stops and she cries out, her walls protesting around him, as if trying to pull him back into motion.

“It’s okay, you’re doing so well,” he continues with his praise. “We’re close, yeah?” asks Lando rhetorically, waiting, feeling her body tighten and then gradually relax.

Then he starts again, the rhythm maddeningly slow.

Her moans grow louder, more desperate, but just as she teeters on the edge again, he stops once more.

“Fuck, Lando. Please,” she chokes out, her hips jerking against his hand, trying to create some friction. “I can’t—please, let me have it,” her voice is drenched in frustration and need.

He hums against her neck, savoring every sound she makes. “You know I will, baby. But you need to trust me,” he says, voice steady, his fingers suddenly resuming their pace. “You don’t want to disappoint me, do you, pretty girl?”

Her whole body shivers, her thighs trembling around his hand as she shakes her head frantically. “No,” she whimpers, “I won’t—please, please. I’ll do anything, just don’t stop again.”

The desperation in her voice tugs at something deep in him. He feels guilty, seeing her so wrecked and desperate after holding this pressure inside for weeks, but when her slickness grows, coating his fingers and hand, he knows she’s on the brink. He can physically feel it.

Smiling, Lando leans over, pressing soft kisses to her flushed cheek, talking tenderly against her skin, “Make me proud,” he whispers, his voice thick with affection and lust.

And that’s more than enough.

Her release comes in a rush, hitting her like fireworks as she cries out his name, her body spasming uncontrollably around Lando’s fingers. He keeps working her through it, whispering praises against her skin while her nails dig into his forearm, anchoring herself to him as the weeks of frustration dissolve into pure, blinding pleasure.

“Beautiful,” says Lando, dipping his head to kiss her.

He bites her lower lip, tugging it between his teeth before soothing it with a soft lick. Then, with a sly smirk, he shoves his tongue back into her mouth, tasting the soft gasp she lets out.

He attacks her senses from every direction — his hand between her legs, the other on her chest, his lips consuming hers. The pressure on her clit, the way his fingers still curl and stretch inside her, the heat of his body pressed to hers — everything feels right again. She’s finally losing herself, over and over, her mind emptying of everything but the way Lando feels, and the way he’s making her feel.

Just like he promised.

Her lips part against his, and the only thing she can think to say it’s his name, that escapes in a broken, breathless cry.

Her cheeks are flushed, the heat spreading through her body like wildfire. The wet, slick sounds of his hand working her fill the bathroom, blending with her breathless moans and the occasional low rasp of his voice. She feels the telltale pressure building once more in her lower abdomen, the one that makes her toes curl and her thighs tremble. And then, like clockwork, the fear starts to creep in — the same fear that’s stolen her release before.

Sensing the shift in her breathing, Lando reminds her, his voice impossibly soft, “You can,” he encourages her, “One more, baby. Look how well you take my fingers.”

Her chest heaves as she finds the strength to glance down, her half-lidded eyes catching the hypnotic way his hand works between her legs, his fingers disappearing into her again and again. The sight is enough to make her stomach tighten, and when her gaze lifts, she meets Lando’s.

He’s already looking at her, his eyes dark with desire but impossibly gentle, filled with reassurance and love. That’s what does it — their unyielding, pure connection. Her second orgasm crashes over her without warning, the intensity pulling a cry from deep within her chest.

“Lando, yes!” she moans, her voice breaking as she clings to him, her body shaking uncontrollably. “Oh my—”

He doesn’t stop, his fingers working her through the overwhelming waves of pleasure. She’s crying, tears slipping down her cheeks, but these are different — they’re tears of relief; liquid euphoria.

The towel beneath her is soaked, her release spilling out in waves, and Lando lets out a low, approving groan as he feels her gush against his hand. “That’s my good girl,” he says proudly, kissing her temple as her cries fade into breathless whimpers. “Look at you. So perfect, baby. You fucking did it.”

She collapses into his chest, her body utterly spent, her mind hazy from the high of finally letting go. And for the first time in weeks, she feels nothing but peace.

Lando keeps her close, his lips brushing against her temple in the softest of kisses, waiting for her to come back to herself. She exhales shakily, the steady thrum of his heartbeat calming her.

Lando tilts his head down, his curls tickling her cheek as he insists, “Next time you feel like this, come to me. Don’t keep it in, baby. We’ll work it out together like we did now,” his words are definitive, the weight of his love for her wrapped around every syllable. He leans back slightly to look at her, his eyes soft but unwavering. “The perfect fit, you and I, right?”

She lifts her gaze to meet his, and he smiles, his dimples peeking out as his hand brushes a strand of hair from her face. “Thank you,” she says. “For knowing me better than anyone.”

“That’s because I love you, silly,” says Lando, his lips grazing hers in a featherlight kiss. “And loving you means taking care of you. Even when you don’t know how to let me.”

Hearing Lando’s words, a flicker of shame creeps in. She realizes she should have told him sooner. They’re a team — they always have been. And yet, she let herself spiral alone, convinced this was something she had to fix by herself.

Before she can dwell on it too much, Lando peppers more kisses to her temple and cheek, his voice deliberately teasing, but laced with something undeniably serious, “Let’s go back to bed,” he says, helping her up. “I’ve got three weeks to make up for, and I don’t plan on wasting a second.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[luveline]

Hi!! Sometimes in ur bombshell reader fics she talks about how she has nervous energy would u ever write a bombshell reader fic where she has one of those days where she just woke up wired and Spencer tries to calm her down?

“Spencer,” you whisper. 

“What?” 

Spencer turns another page. You, across from him with your legs crossed, slouched, poke at his leg gently with your foot. “What are you reading?” 

“It’s just a book on Wyoming land boundaries.” 

You nod. Spencer watches you from across the top of his book, at first without worry, and then an attentiveness that furthers all the reasons you may or may not be in love with him. 

“You okay?” 

Everything should be fine. The case is solved. You’re heading home, without turbulence, two hours at most from touching down after a job well done. “I’m fine.” 

“You sure?” he asks. 

You smile fraughtly. You try your best to be the perfect image, to put that best foot forward, and you nail it ninety nine days out of a hundred. Nobody knows about your nervousness besides you, and that’s how you’d like it to stay, but Spencer clearly cares about you too much to look away. 

He closes his book and sets in on the table, pushing a glass into his hand. “Here,” he says, leaning forward. “It’s not poisoned.” 

You take it. Feeling his gaze, you drink a little sip that immediately goes down the wrong way. Your coughing swallow perturbs him worse. 

People tend to look at Spencer and see someone who needs more help. Even the people closest to him can doubt his ability, but as far as you’re concerned he’s proven to understand emotion quite well. He won’t shake a stranger's hand, he can’t flirt to save his life without notice, but he can make you feel better. He’s good at taking care of you, even if nobody else can see it. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, leaning right over to touch both your knees at once. He pushes your skirt up a half inch with the movement, but his eyes are on your face. “You have the jitters?” 

“Think so,” you murmur. 

“Maybe it’s the air pressure.” 

You’re sure he knows you get like this sometime, but his explanation is kind. His hands on your knees are somehow strangely placed and still a natural feeling. Just like sitting together at his place to watch TV, or elbow to elbow on the train into New York, your boundaries with one another are eroding. 

“Wanna come and sit by me?” he asks, like he’s thinking the same thing. 

You laugh softly. “In all that space?” 

The seat is big enough for a larger person, but not you and Spencer together. 

He squeezes himself right to the side. “Come on,” he insists, sitting back, “just sit with me.” 

“I’ll squish you.” 

“So squish me.”

You think about it before setting your traded glass down. You don’t know why you have these weird moods, you don’t understand what it is about Spencer that can make them feel better, but he’s offering to make it go away. You have no real reason to turn him down. 

In the end, you sit in the chair beside him, ignoring Hotch’s perturbed look as you stand and then quickly plop yourself down at Spencer’s side. Your thigh has to go completely on top of his, but otherwise, it’s not so bad. It’s more room than you thought. 

It works quicker than you could imagine. With both of your heads held back the space between you is still minimal, which means his face is in detail. His hair brushed back and with the barest traces of gel, a little curled, what had Hotch said? His boyband hair.  

Spencer turns toward you, eye shadowed as he presses his forehead to the chair. “Is it just jitters?” he asks. 

“Sometimes I think I get… weird,” you say. 

“Me too.” He pulls your leg further into his lap. You’re shocked at first, but it’s a friendly move that takes the strain off of your knee. “Can I tell you something?” 

“Of course you can.” 

“I’ve started to care a whole lot less about being weird since I met you.” 

You fight the urge to touch his hair. “I don’t think it’s about caring, Spence, I just.. don’t feel right.” 

“Okay.” He nods sincerely. “Okay, well, we can work it out. We’re still hours from Virginia, you can turn your brain off. We can work it out.” 

You’re relieved to have him promise it. This isn’t the sort of thing you can work out, but it doesn’t matter, Spencer caring this much makes all the difference. You take a deep, deep breath, and you give him a grateful smile, before you rest your cheek on his shoulder. That’s just wanting, no weird feeling or jittering at the root of you as he lets a warm breath kiss your forehead, his nose pressing into your skin. 

“Don’t let anybody see,” you mumble. 

His next breath is a little shaky. “I won’t.”

See what, you’re not sure. But soon you start to feel less like you’re gonna try popping open an emergency window, and that’s enough for now. 

[unluckiestmember]

can I request headcanons of x-men 97 team x reader who is an absolute sweatheart and is just the cutest thing to exist.

Coming right up!

X-Men '97 X Sweetheart! Reader

Characters: Nathan Summers/Cable, Scott Summers/Cyclops, Remy LeBeau/Gambit, Jean Gray, Jubilee, Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto, Morph, Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler, Rogue and Logan/Wolverine.

Warning: Mild Cursing, but overall SFW.

A/N: Can I please get someone to remind me to actually post when I'm supposed to? Anyone? XD

Cable

“Time to get to work, keep up!… You want me to carry you? Heh, say less.”

Oh Nathan, Nathan, Nathan. He tries his best to be as tough and straight to business like his old man. Always a man to try and change the future and fight for the people with a straight face. But as soon as you’re around him, your sunshine energy radiates onto him. You make the freedom fighter have a need to impress you on the field when he’s not showering you in love outside of missions.

What really drew you to him was just how careful you were with his body. How you complimented his eye and stroked his robotic arm with so much care. It has made him really adore the end of the days where particular expeditions took a lot of energy out of you two, resulting in cuddles and sweet nothings. He never understood the whole concept of loving someone like his dad loved his mom, but after meeting you, he finally understood what they had was sacred. What you two had was sacred. Nathan has lost a lot in his life, but he’ll be damned if he loses you.

Cyclops

“Are you alright?! You’re not hurt, are you? I’m not overexaggerating- I’m worrying the right amount!”

Scott can be a pain in the neck during missions. He’s always one to bark out orders and keep a level head on missions as the leader of the X-Men. And if there’s one order that’s always on the top of his list, it’s making sure you are safe. He’s by all means not an overprotective or possessive lover, but he makes it a daily part of his life to always check on his beloved. Whenever you are just being yourself, you can find him staring at you, taking in your cute energy and reciprocating it with his own cute antics like kissing your cheek or giving you gifts when you least expect it.

Are the team a bit jealous of you having Scott’s favoritism? A bit. But hey, they’d rather someone like you have the best of Scott than the worst. Even if that also includes his defensive nature of you along with his jealous antics. He means well. You know it, sometimes you just have to remind him. Whether it be with a simple talk or a passionate kiss. Face it, you keep the leader of the X-Men grounded.

Gambit

“Ah, just the person I was looking for. Is it just me or are you getting more breathtaking every day, mon cher?"

When it comes to you, Remy is bound to flirt twenty four seven just to see that nice shade of pink color on your cute little cheeks. And if he cant succeed in that, he’s bound to have you smitten with his physical hold of your waist or his sincere compliments. He’s quite a charmer, anyone knows that, but with you, he adds another flare to himself; A sweet lover.

Gambit will always make it abundantly clear that you are the cutest person he’s ever met and how he can wager the perfect future with you by his side. Expect this man to shower you with surprise trips away from the mansion, a fresh breakfast almost everyday and a little card show if you are ever upset, because if there’s one thing he hates more than anything, it’s you being upset. You are the only one that can make Gambit so emotional because he just loves you so so much. And if you ever forget, he doesn’t mind reminding his raison de vivre.”

Jean Gray

“I wish you could see what was in my mind… Maybe then you’d realize how much you mean to me, my love.”

When it comes to Jean, you’ve basically hit the jackpot on one of the most open and loving girlfriends you could ever ask for. You aren’t just a sweetheart, you are her sweetheart. She always touches you like a porcelain doll, staring into your eyes with so much affection of her own and giggling whenever you hug or hold her, prompting her to hold you or hug you back just as tightly. On missions, she is in the zone, but as soon as they are over, she’s heading straight to you to check if you are injured. And if you’re not? Expect this woman to shower you in so many compliments and love that you might just drown from the cuteness.

Jean isn’t just your protector, but also your best friend, always free to try anything you want to try and do what you want to do.Dare she say, you might be the love of her life. Screw being lovers, she wants to be a married couple. But as much as that gets her excited, she’ll take her time for you, because she knows whether it takes her whole life or a single day, she doesn’t mind waiting for the fateful day.

Jubilee

“That was awesome! Did you see me out there- Did you?! Let me let you in on a secret; That last one was for you~!”

Because of how young she is and her lack of a love life, Jubilee is still pretty new to the whole dating and falling in love thing. But when she met you, she knew she was bound to fall in love with someone so positive and full of life. An embodiment of a firework if she said so herself. She always drags you around town with her to hangout at arcades or spend time in the mall grabbing lunch and doing cute couple things.

She cares about you enough to ask other X-Men members advice on how to treat you or show you how much you mean to her. It honestly impresses and shocks the team how this troublemaker tries her best to make you feel like the luckiest person in the world dating her. If she’s not showing her love for you through domestic activities, then look outside your window at night. You are bound to find Jubilee sending you love with her fireworks bound to make you giggle and smile. Which is always delightful because when you are filled with so much happiness, so is she.

Magneto

“What we have is stronger than any magnetic pull I’m capable of. It’s terrifying. But also magnificent.”

If you ever wanted to be treated like royalty, Magneto is the man for you. Erik treats you like you are a precious flower that could be destroyed by the mutant hating world around you. Because of this, he is so careful with you, yet not overbearing. If you want to hang out outside or simply hang out with him, he doesn’t mind as long as no one looks at you the wrong way or touches you with ill intent. Because if they do?… Let’s just say Magneto can do a lot with his powers.

When he’s not making sure you’re safe, he is awestruck at your innocence and your positive outlook on life. At first, he actually found your vision of the world to be immature, untrue and above all stupid. But the more he’s spent time with you, you’ve seem to have melted his cold heart a bit. Does he still think humanity is the scum of the Earth and nothing can change? Yes. But with you by his side, showing him what love, understanding and acceptance can be, maybe, just maybe, he can see where you’re coming from.

Morph

“Why the long face, babe? I can do a mean Magneto impression that’s sure to make you smile… Haha! There’s my love!”

Around people, Morph treats you almost like one of the guys, in a figurative sense. They don't treat you any differently from the rest of his friends and family within the team. But behind closed doors or when you two are alone, all bets are off. They are melting at your sweet nature and so quick to try to make you laugh, smile or get physical with them. Man, do they love when you get physical with him- They adore it!

But what they really loves is how caring and protecting of them you are. They've told you about their past, their run in with Mister Sinister and their time away from the team. And no matter how many nightmares or moments of body dysmorphia he experiences, they love how you are always there to pick up their loose pieces and put them back together with your gentle touch and gentler words. Because of this, they're always there to return the favor and comfort you as well when you are at your lowest. You are their best friend sorry Logan and their beloved and they wouldn’t want it any other way.

Nightcrawler

“Liebe meines Lebens. You never cease to take my breath away.”

Kurt is a pretty romantic person, especially when it comes to you. He showers you endlessly in love, rubbing his nose against yours, showering your face in kisses and becoming putty when you hold him, even if it’s just by his arm! He cherishes moments where the both of you hang out, especially by gardens where he makes cute flower crowns with you. Though just any moments with you are the highlight of his day. On missions, you two synergize perfectly well with the blue mutant complimenting you on your moves and takedowns of foes.

Kurt is an expert at physical touch for a love language, but he’s just as amazing with his words, especially with the nicknames he’s given you. He’ll make sure everyone knows that you are his Schatz, Herz, bessere Hälfte, and of course, Liebe meines Lebens. To you, he’s a lot like a little puppy; Full of energy and always waiting for your attention and affection given to him. The team thinks you two are cute even if they find it a bit annoying that Nightcrawler is always teleporting you two all over the place. It’s not too bad though since the sound of your mixing laughter is enough to make everyone’s hearts soar happily.

Rouge

“Hey, Sugar! I missed you so much today! Now come here, I at least want a hug!”

Rogue is super careful of you. You are just too precious to her and she doesn’t want to hurt or break you with her powers. So she makes sure you both have ways of showing one another how much you love each other, especially herself. Outside of soft hugs, she tries her best to give you a hand covered kiss. Though she can be super cheesy and exchange indirect kisses with rocks, feed you while chuckling at how adorably you stare at her like she hung the stars above. She’ll even have you both set up for dinner plans and fly you around in the sky if you ever want to destress from work as a X-Man.

You both have a cute relationship, even if there are moments where Rogue wonders if she deserves you or if she will ever be enough for you due to her destructive powers and the possibility she will never be able to touch you. These revelations have led to emotional nights, but the promise you make to touch her and make her the happiest woman in the world always makes Rogue realize that she is beyond lucky to have you. You make her want to find a way to touch you no matter what. And mark her words, she will.

Wolverine

“Woah, little pup. I was just gone for a few hours, you act like I went to war or something! Aw, screw it, come here.”

Logan has fallen in love with many men and women during his years of living. But damn has he never met anyone quite like you! When he met you, he thought your whole sweetheart shtick was fake, no offense. He thought it was some trick used to get people to lower their guards around you so you can get the upper hand on them. But when he found out you really were the sweet soul everyone hyped you up to be, he slowly but surely fell for you. He fell for how you spoke to him with such understanding and patience. The way you touched him was with the utmost care when you took care of him and helped him clean blood from your adventures with him that got out of hand.

Logan fights for many people, but for you he will kill anyone that hurts you or makes you cry. Your smile lights up his whole life, your laugh pushes him to be stronger to preserve it and your touch makes him feel alive in a world that always knocks him down. If it’s not the X-Men, Wolverine usually fights for himself and only himself. But now that he has you to lose, he fights for the both of you and a future where you both can live a peaceful life you’re both proud of.

If you got any requests for X-Men '97, Blue Eye Samurai, and or Arcane, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[acid-ixx]

I’m new, I just read your fic about neglect reader. I haven’t read through your blog yet but I am so excited after reading this fic. I am an emotional wreck right now and my curiosity is eating me alive with this question “Does reader know about Jason? Will they ever met? Ever have a platonic relationship together? Will Jason be more of a brother to reader?”

I’m sorry I speed through the fic and tears are in my eyes I couldn’t think straight BUT I notice that Jason is hardly there so I’m curious. Please this is such a brain rot, it’s way past midnight after I read this cause I keep stopping to cry.

major (?) spoilers below.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

hello anon !! im so happy ppl are getting more exposed to the content i have written so far. anyways, i can't believe i also got others to cry bec i did too when i was writing 😭

anyways, to answer ur question: yes! the reader will meet jason and he would actually be the first sibling you would meet after you have left the manor. the way he would turn yandere for you is a different approach to how the others would be because in the prequel, it has been stated that you had your fair share of encounters with him.

"will they ever have a platonic relationship with him/see him as a brother?" maybe, maybe not. because your meeting with him would all be a blur to you, and jason's obsession would stem from the trauma he had experienced, causing him to be more protective of you.

you're not in your best mindset and you're vulnerable walking through the streets of gotham and all alone? oh god, only a dumbass would do that— but once the red hood recognizes your face and the way you carry yourself so pitiably, he immediately tries to take you in his arms just as he should.

but the moment you push him away? tell him to fuck off despite your drunken state? the moment you cry and tell him you could deal with everything yourself without his help or anybody else's? you just remind him of himself and that triggers his first spiral into yandere-ism.

it's the way you share trauma, the way you both feel immense anger. he should've noticed sooner because you two would've been as close as peas in a pod. and yet he failed you by being a hypocrite. you were literally taken into the manor right after his death and discarded like you were mere trash. he should've taken you away when he had the opportunity to but he was too caught up in his feat of revenge.

yet the worst part was that he had taken notice of tim before he did you, and jason had momentarily hated you too because he thought bruce had replaced him. if he had looked through that veil of contempt that he had for you, and saw just how neglected and in need of attention you are, then he would've taken you under his wing.

but he didn't, and he had done the same thing to you as most did.

so take it as you will when i say you're more or less going to be closer (albeit unwillingly) to jason than anybody else because unlike his other siblings who are bound by their vigilante duties, your big brother jason wouldn't mind shooting any creeps who think they could touch his precious angel.

and he gets it, too, angel— you hate him, you hate them all and that's valid. but you can't just walk out in the streets alone and expect to be home in one piece; so leave it to him to scout your apartment alright? leave it to your big brother jason to intimidate the goons who try to stalk you when you're not looking. even if you don't want him near you, you'll always find warm food by your table and a note reminding you to take care of yourself more often.

it hurts when you rip the paper to shreds but it breaks his heart even more if you refuse to touch the meal he would leave for you, because that probably means you saw him as danger more than anything else. and he doesn't know it, but you're already planning to make a run for it now that you're under red hood's radar.

it's obvious that you have no experience when it comes to living by yourself, so please don't fucking push him away and let him protect you from any harm. your self destructive habits only causes him to become more protective of you and it only lets him stalk you more often to ensure nobody would touch his precious angel.

just like dick, you'll be treated more like a child than that of a young adult, but at least jason has the concept of personal space compared to your eldest brother. but still, jason wishes to hold you in his arms.

heaven forbid if the joker ever got his crummy fingers on you. jason would go berserk.

little does he know, little does your family know just how much they had lost the opportunity to keep you in wraps inside the manor.

they should've never let you out in the first place.

[deception-united]

hello fellow human

i wanna write smut but I suck at writing in general

Hi, thanks for asking!

Writing Smut

1. Describe, but don't get too poetic.

It's always important to have sentences that flow well and use descriptive language no matter what it is you're writing:

Ex: Rather than "He kissed her. She gasped. He touched her thigh," use more sensory language like "His mouth traced a slow path upwards, heat following in its wake. She exhaled sharply, fingers curling into his shirt" etc.

However, something I've noticed some writers tend to do is get too metaphorical with it, and as a reader, it frankly makes me uncomfortable when I read things like 'their bodies tangled together in mother nature's sexual slow dance' or idk.

2. Know your characters.

Smut isn’t one-size-fits-all. When writing a scene, consider their personalities, history, experience, and emotional state, and make it reflect that. For example, a shy character usually won’t become dominant all of a sudden unless there’s a reason; or a guarded character who typically resists vulnerability might be more awkward, unsure, or reluctant at first. Also consider their communication style (are they verbal? Do they tease? Do they hesitate or take control?) Bottom line is, make it more character-driven.

3. Avoid getting overly clinical.

Focus on sensory details rather than the mechanics: don't just list actions like a biology textbook. "He inserted X into Y" isn't hot—describe feelings instead (heat pooling in the stomach, the burn of a touch, hitch of breath, rustle of fabric, etc.).

4. Consent & power dynamics

Even in dark or rougher scenes or the wildest fantasy settings, it's important to have clarity on consent (unless the lack of it is the point). If your character's don't communicate at all, or if something feels off, the scene can easily turn uncomfortable or confusing. A character might want to be overpowered or controlled—but the reader should always know it’s wanted.

5. Word choices matter.

Avoid overly clinical words like "member", but also avoid purple prose. You don’t need to turn into a thesaurus and call it "his throbbing sword of love and desire" (please) but you also don’t want to be so vague that no one knows what’s happening. Overall, keep it natural; if you’re cringing while writing, reconsider.

6. Before & after

Have some buildup. If they go from casual conversation to ripping each other’s clothes off with zero transition, it’s gonna feel flat and likely confusing.

Aftercare is important as well. Once it's over, add a little moment of tenderness, teasing, a shared cigarette, something. Or maybe they don't bask in the moment and immediately get dressed like nothing happened and go their separate ways (it all depends on your characters, their relationship, and the narrative).

___

Aside from all this, it's important to get comfortable with writing first. If you feel like you suck at it, smut might not necessarily be the best starting point—you're not just describing bodies, but have to take into account the pacing, emotion, tension, flow of action, all that. You don’t need to be a literary genius, but it's good to have some sort of a foundation. If you feel unprepared, try practicing with writing simple, mundane scenes, like a character drinking coffee or two people arguing over something petty. If you can describe that in an engaging way, describing more complex scenes will seem much less daunting. Critically reading similar scenes to what you want to write in books or fanfics can also help gain a better grasp of the whole thing.

Hope this helped! Happy writing ❤

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[planetsstarsandmoons]

Synastry observations (partly) based on personal experience, part 6:

(18+!!)

(Back after a year! Lol🌜🌛)

Moon conjunct mars: can be one sided asfuhck. I’ve seen it play out. Fully accepting that deeply personal intimacy of having someone’s sex aspecting your deepest emotions and/or the other way around is a sort of intimacy that some people just.. don’t…. want with that other person. This comes as a shocker because to most people, having a synastry aspect automatically means you have to like that with the other person, but Some people are just not into the other person like that! Or have trouble with intimacy. And even though the very primal emotional bridge between (possible) intensity of emotions and (possible) intensity of sexuality really ‘clicks’ and hits like no other, it doesn’t mean that the emotions or sexuality of both of the people will be intense within themselves… or that they will be seen in the same way. Many times I’ve seen this aspect play out in two people who worked really well together, were natural kissers and such, had almost iconically amazing fullfilling sex together, but one person wanted to marry and move into the other person and the other person simply did not want that, got the ick maybe, or simply closed themselves off from that meaning to the connection that one party attached to it but they themselves could not get in touch with, and either abused that power dynamic as much as they could or they ran away. Meanwhile thatother person, and I’ve seen both the moon and the mars person in that situation, is left completely addicted and insecure and an unstable mess because of this, because this aspects didn’t cause them so much to be in love, it caused them to have an addiction to this perfectly fullfilling passion and intimacy that they fundamentally lack in their life. They wanted to marry this person because of that. A friend (the mars person) of mine once puked when they saw their recent mars-conjunct-moon-synastey ex (it was a 1,5 month relationship) walk into a room. He later discovered that for some reason, that extremely intense feeling heartbreak didn’t really have anything to do with her, but more about the affection he lacked from an absent parent in his childhood, and the (obvious to everyone else) fact that he was bordering on a complete burn-out. He desperately needed that dopamine and those endorphins. Meanwhile the moon person was nowhere near in the headspace to have that kind of emotional intimacy so fast in her 1st relationship, so she started finding him less and less attractive, and then it was over. I once had an international student (moon) I think fall in love with me (and later stalk me) after 2 dates. He was a lonely international student in this Nordic country and his mother was sick in Egypt. We could not hold an interesting conversation on our own if we tried, but we were -very good kissers-and the almost-sex was extremely good. I didn’t want to cross that line, because for lack of better words I felt like it would go on to mean too much, be too emotional and too intimate and the thought crossing that border with him gave me the ick/ a fight or flight response, like I would just let this man be wayy too intimate with me if it happened, so I cut it off 🤷‍♀️ All the hormones of interpreting yourself to be totally ‘in love’ are there in the synastry, but it’s not *really* that, and most people in the sorry position even secretely know that, even though it’s confusing because they forever remain adamant that there here was something bomb in their connection.. because there was. But imagine: the moon feels emotionally hit in their core by mars’s… sexuality/attractiveness. Mars sees the deepest inner emotions of the moon and feels… turned on. You see where I’m going with this? The intensity and intimacy is great, but for a real love connection you need synastry on things that lead to mental, spiritual and emotional connectivity too. Can you even have a good conversation with this person for longer than 25 minutes? Do you even.. care about them? and vice versa? Would you love them if they were a worm? I have even more stories but they’re for another time 💆‍♀️

Moon trine mars: so. This one is kind of different. What do I mean? Well I believe that in synastry aspects, planetary influence comes to exist in the context of the aspect. Mars conjunct a planet will get all of mars. Mars square a planet will get the worst/most challenging side of mars (brought out by both). Mars opposite will get the antihero kind of mars -the conjunct mars on a possible (and needed) character delevopment journey if you will- and mars trine and sextile will get the harmonious benific, kind of ‘angelic’ sides of mars. He becomes the Aiden from Sex And The City, the soft woodchipper. This mars is in relation to the moon person a 10th house oriented, responsibility taking man who makes you laugh in the form of making you smile. The moon person becomes enamored with the mars person’s standing for something, his way of solving problems, overcoming obstacles, his professionality and his energetic form of taking action. The mars here becomes the kind of mars that is serious about protecting and heartily keeping what he feels is hitting his mars, instead of fighting with it or having sex with it necessarily. The moon’s emotional being becomes like his healthy objective, that he will protect and will fight/work himself up for in a way that he can control. A trine is harmonious which is kind of how you’ll see the mars person get into that civilised and gentlemanly role (to the emotions of the!!👌) moon partner. Where mars squaring the moon is like a mean alcoholic to the moon, the mars trining the moon will be a driven, shaved man in a suit or a spencer, kissing his wife goodbye before going to work. The moon in this aspect is different too: like water, the moons energy decides to flow depending on the factors and tides of the environment: If the moon has no reason to feel stabbed all the time, the moon won’t act overly sensitive or insecure or reactive to every little thing. Being shown the harmonious and safe/secure part of such a powerful planet like mars, the moon person will let their guard down big time. Typically, in this aspect, the moon person opens up, becomes very emotionally comfortable and shows their real and raw private selves to the mars person in a way that even surprises the mars person. There will be lots of oohs and aahs from the mars person who is *absolutely thrilled* to discover that the moon person is actually way softer than they come across in their personality, or more insecure than they wear on their sleeve, or are actually way weirder than anyone would expect. This is like an emotional theme in the relationship for mars. Granted to mars, it actually is a kind of odd way of special, because Real selves are often only shown to others in despair, crisis, moments of survival, very few deep talks, or during sex, but here the moon person is comfortable being their quirky and complete and utter selves with the mars person just during ‘daylight’ so to speak, as if they were alone in their room doing a talk show monologue in the mirror. It’s because mars made themselves this safe haven but is also a good reason to get excited and happy. So this aspect isn’t so much about physical/primary (so sexual attraction) passionate intimacy as you see, it becomes a personality thing of more mental and earthy(?) substance imo. In couples this aspect creates a forever-kind of ‘fondness’ of each other. In this relationship it’s the sex that becomes the highest feat of romantic bonding, not commitment to each other or affirming affection like with the conjunct or the square, which needs those components to make or strengthen the connection as a romantic one.

Mars conjunct mercury: best friends aspect! Being able to talk for hours, do any activity together, spend an entire day doing stuff together or going to a daylong event with just the two of you without it ever being awkward. Being able to do groceries together for a pregame with each other before going to do an activity that you’ll also be doing together. Energy, jokes, and things to talk about never run out. Mars’s energy lets mercury’s thoughts and mind race through multiple subjects and important comments at once, and mercury’s thoughts excite slash fire up mars’s energy. Their response becomes fuel for mercury again and so fort. I know two best friends who have this in double whammy almost exact and they are *always* together. Like in the same day, they would hang out, go to do something else/hang out with someone else, then go hang out with each other again, then in the evening one would visit the other at work. I have this aspect with one good friend that I can talk for hours with. Catching up is never awkward and we constantly learn from each other, plus we’re interested in the same things, because his mind/daily thoughts/the things he pays attention to and tells me (his mercury), fires me up and consistently happens to catch my fixation (mars). And what I *do* in my life, the things that were motivation by nature of taking action, triggers his insight! Isn’t that the perfect combination? This aspect makes you very good and close friends, but this alone doesn’t grant an emotional bond. Those two best friends I talked about lacked in moon connections, so they kept surprisingly much of their feelings and what went on in their life/emotional world private from one another, including crushes they had on mutual friends 💀 like how was that possible?

Moon square moon: a link is a link, an attachment is an attachment, so moon square moon is that too. You will ‘see’ each other for who that person emotionally is from the inside. You will acknowledge it, you can even understand it, but trying to emotionally ‘relate’ or connect to the other’s emotional world causes a short-circuit. This sounds like a finished deal, and marriage it often is. This aspect imo means kind of sacrifing a part of crucial understanding of the other partner. But there is another important part: some people do not have moon to moon aspects in their partnerships. Some people can connect with a moon through their sun mercury venus and mars for example, but not be able to deeply feel the other person next to them with their own moon, like what’s possible in a moon to moon aspect. With moon square moon, the two people deeply *see* each other. It’s hard not to because the friction of the square makes them very neon noticable to each other. One moon person might not be able to touch or soothe the other moon person from and with their own emotional angle, because through the square it will inherently cause a (n immediate often) frictive disconnect, but their presence will be enough. They will learn from each other and with enough respect for the other, (seriously) they will be able to teach themselves how to manually get their moons to relate, by in their empathy intuitively touching and patting to learn what the other person feels, and sleutelingen on their own emotional patterns. With the man I had this with. I completely saw and understood how he was. We, to each other’s emotional automatic ways of thinking, understood each other, but could never relate, so in our most intimate conversations we saw each other raw, but were also like.. damn,, you live like this? you do you! 😂

Male Venus conjunct woman’s moon, but the man has venus square moon natal: so this is really too specific, I know, it’s from my personal life, but the observation is such an almost lawful rule that it needs to be said. So the natal venus square moon man has a problem with women in a romantic or otherwise emotionally intimate sense. He either sees them as charmless but safe, emotional, and boring ‘kin’, who fullfills his emotional needs, clicks with his inner emotional world, but in a way that cannot fullfill his romantic wants because they fundamentally clash, or he sees them as these charming, pretty, sexy sensual creative people or muses that fullfill his wants and desires, but cannot fullfill his emotional needs because they fundamentally do not mesh/are not able to ‘melt’ with each other. So men with this aspect are doomed to have a lonely romantic life where they deeply hurt a lot of women but in the long run also themselves. This is ofc unless the man is capable of self reflection and is willing to do the work and *respect* the challenges that squares require you to work on, but since misogyny is a thing, that challenge and perceived radically different worldview of the woman he meets practically never gets respected, found interesting or compelling enough for the man to study, or get romanticised like the way in which women will handle a natal moon square mars for example. BUT! If a woman’s moon conjuncts that squared venus, they kind of crack the code in a weird sense!? And become sort of “the only woman that can tame this man blabla that he actually respects”. Because the woman becomes like a domineering mother to him. In his moon square/battle/tension her moon, so where his emotional ‘needs’ are challenged by another person’s needs, his moon yields to the woman’s moon because his venus is enamored by the woman’s moon emotional world. You will get two people who are weirdly intimate friends, because both square moons emotionally ‘acknowlegde’ each other’s emotional life and wavelength, in a kind of bizarre to witness way that will have the woman wear the pants and the often so misogynistic and macho guy follow her and her needs around like a (doggo)💀, acting like each other’s bf/gf, but sitting too close to each other?? Kissing? The thought of having s**?? Will make them revolt. From an astrological standpoint, this may be the most significant planetary relationship with a woman that this man will ever have in his life.

A woman’s venus conjunct that sort of man’s moon I have never seen, only conjunct other planets, but I imagine it would be the same but the other way around at the same time. I think she would be only possible romantically intimate partner for the man, the only girlfriend to exist, only girl that he can wholeheartedly register as ‘girlfriend’, who will hold that *romantic* muse place forever, the only one to forever fullfill his emotional needs like a romantic partner does and can, but he doesn’t like her as a person, he couldn’t be friends with her, can’t talk with her, was never even his type, wants to cheat on her, can’t admire her really. This female venus is the sensual and sexual but disrespected girlfriend to the female moon’s sexless but elevated wife. If that man ruled the world and had all the money and the woman who marries him would win the universe, these were both equally bad but extremley solid places you would want to be in, because you’d be one of the only two women that he will ever seriously consider in his life.

Venus square jupiter: I have this with almost every man I get involved with, because their venus is in that way also conjuncting my scorpio sun and mercury. I’ve found with these people that they are confused if they should be charmed by the grand/optimistic/philosophical side of me, or cringe. Either way they are overwhelmed. Venus in crush-mode will be especially interested in jupiters views and opinions and outlook on situations and jupiter is enthusiastic about the romantic muse that they see in venus and become a kind of a philosophical rant-y person near them, in a good way, because they see venus as an equally inspiring and interesting and beautiful (big ideas and emotions) creative peer of their outlook on life. Venus listens and is in awe. Jupiter is like a positive-energy bomber to venus and venus can be confused, overwhelmed, but very butterfly-prone and wants to be swept in. This is an aspect where the other knows or can relate to what the other is feeling the least, because jupiter is making venus live in their own world and venus is only thinking out loud in their own head. Astrologers say this easily dies out because of it, like an inflated balloon, but I don’t agree. Don’t let your relationship completely ride on this aspect alone and you’ll be fine and it won’t end with a big bang, but stay flickering like smoldering fire like any other venus or jupiter aspect.

Saturn conjunct moon: saturn wants to snatch moon off the market and moon is like “yeesssss”

Mars overlaying 8th house: it’s true what they say… i won’t elaborate 😶‍🌫️ just kidding I will of course. Having been the 8th house person, it’s actually very straightforward: whenever we talked about serious matters like trauma, (lost) finances, our heritage, and our secrets, fears, that’s when I became most attracted to his masculine/sexual side. Those were the moments I would find myself like ‘daym’, just like a 7th house having mars overlay there would have that during moments of romance and partnership.

Moon opposite mars: I talk about this aspect a lot because it just fascinates me. Moon opposite mars in the context of all the other mars aspects is almost funny because in the beginning, when the insane kind of unsettling attraction is noticed between two people, mars doesn’t really want to be in this situation and moon doesn’t like the fact that it exists at all. I feel like it’s a karmic aspect for mars and somewhat for the moon. Moon will feel every single jab from this aspect but because that jab fundamentally hits them in their *feelings* they will just think: “what was that, what even is that? Who is this mars person making me feel single intense emotion at once?” Even typing this synastry aspect out is making me laugh. It’s moon doing what? Opposing. Oh god. And the lucky planet it’s being opposed is… mars 😂🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️! Imagine the moon one day going like: “f*ck you! And you, and you, and you,” then pointing to mars “and ESPECIALLY you!” Mars turning around and saying: “what are you saying f*ck me for?” looks at moon, boom, falls in love. Kind of disrespectful, but it isn’t meant that way? Which can in short make the connection even more uncomfortable for the moon, or completely the opposite. The intrigue in this aspect lies in how fundamentally foreign (because they’re opposites!!) these people are to each other. This aspect is an up and down and up and down one, because to have the closeness that they both desire and even need, they have to do the work and understanding to become closer and win each other’s trust and affirmation. Mars is challenged to channel powerful frictive energy from the fixation that the opposition creates into creating an environment that caters to the moon’s emotional needs. It challenges itself to encompass all of mars’s qualities, both the ying (harmonious) and the yang (not necessarily that) in a hyperaware manner, and that’s one of the reasons he comes to have like ‘multiple personalities’ in this aspect. It doesn’t help that mars always manages to come across the wrong way to the moon person, can hurt the moon unintentionally, but can also in a burst of martian energy try to fight with the moon when aggravated (caused by their opposing natures), can come across too sexual and disrespectful by the moon person when they intensely show their attraction and preferred treatment to the moon. When Mars tries to be nice, it doesn’t come natural for them to do that imagining what the completely opposite person would want. When mars succeeds, a very real and mental bond is created that is extremely raw. In the healthy romantic version of this, the moon isn’t really easy sex for mars like I’ve seen male astrologers describe it. I’ve seen men describe it as ‘deer’, which can create reaally different outlooks depending on your respect and goodwill to the more vurnurable person. Goodwill especially can make or break this aspect. I feel like this can either be one of the most pain-in-your-stomach disrespectful cortisol aspects, or the sweetest and most genuine and wholsesome emotionally intimate aspects.

A little story I wanted to share: an astrologer on 27th november 2023 gifted me a moon badge on tumblr and I only opened it on 21th november 2024, because I thought it the little pop-up present on my home page was a tumblr advert 🥲 I almost cried because it was such a lovely present around my birthday and as it goes I didn’t say thank you or acknowledged it for a year even though it was an awfully sweet gesture and I really appreciate her 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️