#this one was hard to draw for... so eventually i settled on more of a “Vibe” piece if that makes sense

[joshuamj]

The Magnus Protocol 5 - Personal Screening

[idolomantises]

People keep asking me why didn’t I just make a new character instead of changing Domino’s design so much and I’m gonna be blunt:

Because I didn’t like his original design.

I know people do miss the general simplicity of the older designs, but those old designs weren’t made with a lot of thought to them.

Back then, these comics were just for fun, I had no idea what I was planning for them. I didn’t even know what the Cherubs were doing, I just wanted to draw cool animal characters. So I changed their outfits to better represent their status and personalities.

I was honestly kind of surprised I got praise on reddit in defense of the old designs saying they were “otherworldly” because honestly a lot of these outfits were half assed 💀. I was literally drawing them as I was making the comics. even when sketching out some designs like Ciel, I legit had nothing to work with because I didn’t even know what his job was, hence why his outfit is kind of sexy. Because he was just… sexy bird angel.

But with Domino, it was a lot more complex than that. I wasn’t just unhappy with his original outfits, his overall designs no longer fit what I had planned for him. He was originally a one off joke turned gag character with not much depth to him, just someone for Sera to bounce off of that wasn’t overly antagonistic to her.

Over time I ended up settling on a personality and backstory for him and I didn’t really think it reflected well on his current design. I also was just not fond of it personally, I know a lot of people really liked it, but it felt too cute. Domino is cute but the point of his character (at least in the reworks) is that he’s inconsistent, erratic and kind of dangerous. He can also be kind of unsettling. Inconsistency not just in personality but in design as well. I wanted him to feel a bit more androgynous rather than simply femme. During this time I was also finalizing on a consistent designing theme for the angels and I settled on lower ranked angels appearing more human, hence why Domino was given a nose and mouth.

Domino kind of lives a double life hence I wanted a design that better reflects that. The quiet, reserved actor that’s fawned over by his fans and the pathetic, emotional wreck that Sera and co are very familiar with.

I know people liked his original design. It’s still very cute and I do look fondly on it, but I just don’t love it the same way other people do. I do hope eventually people learn to love the new design as much as the original, it’s such a massive change that I understand why it’s something that’s hard for people to really wrap their heads around or even like.

But yeah. Please just give new domino a chance, I swear the change was necessary 👍

[ssahotchnerr]

girl!dad aaron reading to his daughter over the phone while on a case! 🥹 just like that one episode of jj and henry 😭🥰

nightmares

i will sob. 🥺 i'm also setting this in ellie's bad dreams era :( cw; fem!reader, girl dad!aaron, slight angst, fluff <3

"It looks like this is his comfort zone." Using a red marker, Spencer circled an area on the map. "If we pinpoint-"

As he was continuing his thought, Aaron's phone rang. He fully expected to see Penelope's name, anticipating her call as she was working her magic to narrow down a pool of potential unsubs. However, his eyebrows furrowed in worry as he saw it was from you instead.

"Excuse me." He spoke lowly yet urgently, keeping his eyes on his screen and hurrying away with no hesitation, missing the team's concerned glances.

"Hey," he answered, closing the door to the empty conference room behind him. There was knowing feeling deep in his chest - and a grim one at that. "Everything alright?"

"Kinda... no." You switched up quickly with a sigh, slight distress in your voice. "I'm sorry, I know you're busy. But can you spare a minute or two?"

"Another nightmare?" Aaron's eyes shot to the clock perched on the wall. While it was somewhat early for him, it was getting late back home, timezones to thank. And doing the math quickly, bedtime for the kids had been about two hours ago. So sadly this - right on schedule.

You hummed in confirmation, beginning with the positive first. "She fell asleep in her bed tonight, actually. Went down easy, not much protest. But then woke up crying, and was nearly inconsolable for a while. She's with me now." Your eyes shifted down to your frightened daughter besides you, who was inching closer and closer to seemingly making herself smaller. "And keeps asking for you."

Aaron glanced out; the team was still preoccupied, discussing the geographical profile amongst themselves, and could definitely manage without him for a while longer. "Yeah, I have some time."

There was a quick rustle as you set your phone down, placing it on speaker. Your voice was farther now, not by much, but it felt treacherously distant, as if more miles had been added. "It's Daddy, honey."

"Hey Ellie Bellie." Aaron's tone quieted, his face softening as he spoke. "What's the matter?"

A light sniffle came from the other end. "I had a scary dream."

"A scary dream, huh?" He repeated, an achy pang producing in his chest. Ellie's nightmares have been occurring for a while now, and indubitably becoming a problem. You both expected the dreams to run their course, eventually pass, and things would return to normal. But as time moved forward, it was becoming clear it was well beyond that as they worsened. "It's okay, you're safe with Mom now, right?"

Ellie nodded, unknowingly to him. Her small voice cracked, laced with tears. "I want you."

"I know, and I'll be home when work lets me, I promise. You can even use my pillow tonight too, if you want." He bit down onto his lip as Ellie mumbled a small 'okay' in response. Hard. "Or how about a story? Would that help you feel better?"

Her head rose up and down again, prompting you to speak up as Aaron was met with only her silence.

"We have a few right here." You reached across her, grabbing the few storybooks that frequented Aaron's nightstand and settling back against your own pillow.

"Your pick sweetheart." Aaron pulled a chair from the table, sitting down and making himself comfortable momentarily.

"Goodnight Moon?"

Goodnight Moon, also one of Jack's favorites when he was younger. Between him and Ellie, Aaron's read it so many times, he had the entirety of the book memorized. In addition, Ellie's other, more lengthy favorites - he had gone through and cleverly taken a picture of each page, all stored safely in his camera roll for instances such as tonight. No matter where he happened to be, he could read the text, while also drawing attention to and discussing the images with her.

"Sure. Get all comfy and cozy up to Mom, yeah?"

Ellie nestled herself more into your side, her head resting on your arm as she death-gripped onto her plush bunny. You adjusted the duvet to adequately cover the two of you, scooting down and propping the book up for the two of you to see.

"We're ready when you are." You told Aaron, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from Ellie's face.

As your brief sentence concluded, a harsh pinch formed behind Aaron's eyes, the guilt creeping in as he pictured the two of you laid together, where he also should've been. His little girl was beside herself in fear, wanted him, and yet here he was. Far away on the other side of the country. He felt as if he were failing her; letting her down.

Aaron swallowed to even out his voice, to sound as cheery as he possibly could, and to refrain any agony from being heard. He took a deep, yet small guttural breath.

"In the great green room..."

[agreeewrites]

i so love your writing like my fav account and i found you almost two days ago 😭 would you be up to write anything about james potter? like anything. it’s okay if not!! Have a good day/night💞

omg I'm honored!! i'm so glad we found each other 🩷

work for it

feat. james potter x fem!reader | mdni 18+ | masterlist

“Jamie,” you whined, nosing into his neck, his skin deliciously warm under the quilt. He still smelled like the shower he took last night, eucalyptus and something woody, and you wanted to crawl into his ribcage and live there.

His response was a sleep-addled groan, his face buried in his pillow, dark hair like a halo against the white cotton.

You pushed at his broad shoulder, rolling him onto his back, his legs still tangled with yours. He was bare chested, rippling muscles on full display. But it was only you there to appreciate them in the quiet for your bedroom, tan and glowing in the morning sunlight.

And appreciate them you did, pressing kisses across his collar bone, down his sternum. “James, pleaseeee,” you whined again, shifting to lay on top of him, lapping at the purple mark you'd left under his right ear the night before.

“Mmph,” he sighed, shifting a bit beneath you. He brought up a big hand, calloused from years of quidditch, and you thought you’d won, that he was going to draw you in for a kiss, but instead he grabbed your face and weakly shoved your head from his neck. “M’sleepin’” he mumbled, but you caught the corner of his lip twitch upwards.

“But honey, I need you.” You put on your most pitiful voice, dragging your hand down his torso to palm his cock through his boxers. He was already half-hard, throbbing as his heart pumped more blood south.

James continued to doze, seemingly oblivious to your plight, but his cock betrayed his interest.

Determined, you freed him from his underwear, pleased to find precum already beading at the tip and spreading it over the head with your thumb. Still, his expression remained neutral, his breathing steady.

“Jamie,” you purred in his ear, wrapping your hand around his base and gliding upwards, velvety and hot against your palm. “Don't you wanna fuck me?”

He chuckled, the corner of his mouth finally quirking up. “Need another hour after all the fucking I gave you last night.”

“But I need you nooow.” You kissed along his scuffed jaw, jerking him a little more pressure, twisting your wrist at the top in the way you knew he liked.

“Gonna have to work for it, love,” he said, eyes fluttering closed once again.

You pouted to his closed eyelids. “I could just take care of myself…” you mused, and he cracked open an eye at you, the warning clear.

Just that look was enough to make your pussy clench, his quiet dominance never failing to undo you completely.

You smirked to yourself and shifted down his body, kissing where the sunlight dappled along his abdomen before settling between his legs.

Tangled in sheets and swimming in sunlight, you took James into your mouth, savoring the silken feel of him on your tongue as you bobbed your head. Drool collected around his base, your tongue sweeping along the root of him and circling the head, loving on him, appreciating him with your mouth in every way you could think of.

Eventually, his fingers found their way into your hair, not applying pressure, just feeling you raise and lower, keeping your bedraggled strands from getting in the way.

“So pretty, babygirl,” he cooed, voice still rough with sleep, and you preened, heart thudding at his gentle praise.

Unable to wait any longer, you lifted off of him with a pop and climbed up his body, straddling his waist. You were dressed in one of his shirts, the hem dragging your mid-thigh, but otherwise bare, so your drippy pussy nestled perfectly against the underside of his shaft.

James smirked, stretching his arms overhead with a big yawn, always such a show off. “Not satisfied yet?” He asked, his hands tucked behind his head, elbows akimbo.

You rolled your hips, his drool-covered cock gliding through your slit with ease, and his eyes rolled back in his head, Adam's apple bobbling in his throat.

“If you're just going to lay there like a lazy oaf, I'm going to make myself come,” you teased, rocking slowly against his length, the head nudging your clit just right.

“By all means,” James hummed, watching you through heavy-lidded eyes.

You reached between you, lining his cock up with your entrance, and sank back onto him, inch by delicious inch, until he was fully seated inside you, stretching you just right.

“Fuck, love. You're still dripping with me,” he rasped, watching with greedy eyes as you peeled your shirt over your head, tossing it across the room. “And you want more?”

You nodded, flexing your legs to lift and lower yourself, undulating your hips in a circle while you moved, savoring the feeling of him grazing every inch of you. Your movements were self-indulgent, single-minded in the pursuit of your own pleasure.

“Touch yourself, baby. Yeah, just like that—good girl,” James said, his breath becoming more labored as you fucked yourself onto him, his muscles tight with the effort of keeping his hips still.

Your fingers worked quick circles over your clit, your body falling into the perfect rhythm to make you come—and fast.

It was already building, a simmering heat growing to an inferno in your belly until moans were spilling from your mouth like a favorite song, your hips grinding on his with fervid desperation.

James canted his hips up, sensing you were close, and fucked into you once, twice, and then you were coming, a torrent of bliss ripping through your body like a storm, washing away the rest of the world.

“There we go. S'gorgeous, honey. That what you needed?” He cooed, cuddling you down to his chest while your body trembled and quaked. His continued rocking into you, languid and sloppy, ensuring you got every drop of pleasure you worked so hard for.

You nuzzled into his neck, breathing hard as you slowly returned to reality, his fingers grazing your spine, the movement of his hips, guiding you back.

Once you felt sturdy, you pushed yourself up, swinging your leg over his hips and sliding of the bed.

“Wait, where—”

You smirked, skipping towards the en suite bathroom. “Gonna have to work for it, Potter.”

He was off the bed in a flash, lunging at you across the room and you squealed, not a shred of sleepiness in sight.

© agreeewrites 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[moonstruckme]

bodyguard!james when you have a panic attack 🫣

Ty for requesting!

cw: panic attack

bodyguard!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

James draws closer to you. The older, stern-looking woman you’re talking to glances at him. It’s James’ job to blend in with the wallpaper, but he’s shirking those duties now for one more important. 

You follow the woman’s gaze, noticing him behind you. “Oh, hi.” You smile at him. It’s convincing, a good attempt at hiding how you’re feeling, but James knows you well. “I’m sorry, this is James. James, Linda.” 

“Pleasure to meet you.” James gives Linda a smile of his own. He knows who she is of course, everyone here tonight was pre-vetted by his team and he’s memorized her face as one of the safe ones. He shakes her hand, settling the other lightly on your back. “Sorry to steal her away, but” —James looks to you— “could I talk to you for a minute?” 

You give Linda an anxious glance, and he presses his hand more firmly to your back. A cue.

“Of course.” Your smile blooms again, this one apologetic. They’re all lovely, but James prefers the genuine ones. You say to Linda, “I’ll find you later, okay?” 

“Yes, please.” Linda gives your shoulder a fond squeeze, departing the conversation politely as James starts to guide you away. 

There’s a smaller room not far from you, usually connected to this main one but curtained off for the event. No one notices you slip through the curtain. Your quickening breaths are ten times more obvious in the quieter space. 

“It’s okay.” James supports you the rest of the way to the couch on the other side of the room. You sink down onto it on shaky legs. “You’re fine, angel.” 

You don’t move once you’re sitting, so he maneuvers your body for you, turning you sideways and bringing your feet up onto the couch so you can hug your knees the way you like to. Taking care of you is James’ job, but he thinks he would do it either way. He can’t imagine a life in which he isn’t looking after you. He unzips the back of your dress and starts taking off your shoes. These straps always give him trouble; he doesn’t know how you manage them.

You make a low, pained sound. James feels it in the back of his throat. “James—" 

“I’m not undressing you for everyone to see,” he says lightly. “Only loosening things so you can breathe. It’s just us here, yeah?” 

You nod, closing your eyes. Your breaths sound like they hurt. James doesn’t know what set you off, but these attacks are something you’ve dealt with before. He has a sense of what you need. 

“Sweetheart.” James finally succeeds in getting your shoes off. He clasps his hands over yours firmly, all piled atop your knees. “Just take a breath. One good breath.” 

You try, he sees you trying. But it seems like the air won’t settle in your lungs. Your eyes dip just south of his chin, as though you can’t stand to look at him while they grow distant and shimmery. 

“Good,” James praises you anyway. “You’ve got it, lovely, you’re okay. I know it’s hard right now, but can you do something for me? Tell me five things you can see.” 

You don’t want to. You never do, it’s clearly a lot of work to focus in this state, but eventually James coaxes you into identifying five things in the room. One of them is the earpiece he uses to communicate with the rest of the security team, which makes him smile. 

“I don’t usually call it my spiral cord thing,” he jokes, “but good job. Let’s do four things you can hear, yeah?” 

You get to three before you start crying. James’ heart aches. He hates to see you cry, but sometimes it does help you. You’re going to be upset about your makeup after, though. You fold your face into your knees, and he reaches over you to rub your back. 

“I know.” Your skin is warm beneath his touch, the whole of you shaking. “I know it doesn’t feel like it’s getting better, but it is. You’re doing a great job.” 

“I can’t—“

“Hey, you can. You can, sweetheart. You’re doing it already, you just can’t tell yet. Here, I have something for you.” James changes tactics, fishing in his pocket. He holds a bottle of lavender oil near your face. “Smell this.” 

You pick your head up, looking at the bottle before sniffing tentatively. 

“More than that,” he encourages. “Breathe it in. It’ll help.” 

You take the best inhale you can. Your nose runs and sweat glistens at your hairline, but you try for him. James praises you amply, taking deep breaths for you to copy. He isn’t sure if you notice him doing it, but eventually yours start to match his, slowing and lengthening until you’re getting true lungfuls of the lavender scent. 

James keeps it by your nose. With his other hand, he rubs your calf. 

“You’re okay,” he sighs. “How do you feel now, lovely?” 

“Okay.” Your voice still shakes, but now more with aftershocks than true adrenaline. “Sorry, I don’t know why that happened.” 

“You don’t have to know.” James pinches your nose clean, something in his stomach tightening when you shy. “I’m sorry it happened, too, but it’s not your fault.” 

“I should…” You take a big breath. James frowns and rubs your calf again. “I should go back out.” 

He makes a soft, reprimanding sound. “Not yet. Give yourself a few minutes. You need a break. They’ll all be okay without you for a bit.” 

Your eyes go to the curtain separating you from the main room. You look at it as though you can see right through and every guest at this event is standing on the other side, tapping their feet and muttering about where you’ve gone. 

“Take a break,” James says again. “You thought you were dying a minute ago.” 

“I really did,” you admit. “I thought it wouldn’t feel so much like that after the first time.” 

James hates to see you upset. He presses a kiss to the center of your forehead and puts the oil away. Squeezes your knees in his hands. “Are you going to be okay if I go out there for a minute? I just need to grab a couple of things.” 

You nod but watch his hands ruefully as he stands and they fall away from you. “What do you need?”

“Napkins, mostly.” He gives you a sorry smile. “Obviously you look beautiful no matter what, but I think you’re going to want to clean your face up.” 

“Oh, god.” You touch your fingers underneath your eye, feeling the tackiness of smudged makeup. “Thank you.” 

“Stay right there,” James warns. “If you’re doing anything other than breathing when I get back here, we’re going straight home.” 

You roll your eyes good naturedly. James feels relieved you’re feeling well enough to do it. “You’re the boss.”  

“I’m in charge of your safety,” he says. “So, yeah, I am the boss right now. Stay right there.” 

You hold your palms up in a show of surrender. James is happy to report that as he goes out the curtain, there’s a smile teasing your lips.

[azen13]

I loved your recent Dan Heng posting so so much!!! I’m not the original requester however

Reading it made my mind wander into how Dan Heng would react to a darling who is just so smitten with him (even his more awkward habits) that they recognize his yandere behavior and tease him about it while also kind of playing into it?

My mind keeps running through ideas of a darling that shows up to hang out with him all the time and is just over the moon when he hovers around them in a possessive manner…

Plus I think darling might also be just a teeny tiny bit obsessed with Dan Heng as well (I know I am 🤭)

I’m cutting my ramblings off here because I could go on all day about the ideas this glorious man springs into my brain but I don’t wanna subject you to them all hehe

— Dan Heng Anon

CW: Yandere Themes, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Cuddling, Sleeping Together, Kissing

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Anon, I genuinely love this idea so much! I can definitely see the vibe. As I said in my other post about Dan Heng, I think he's relatively subtle in terms of how he expresses his possessive tendencies: a hand on your shoulder; a command clothed as a suggestion; a redirection of your attention back on him.

But when you start feeding into his behavior?

The first thing that happens to him is that he practically short-circuits. You show up to his room one night, pillow and blanket in hand, face dim with fatigue but eyes shining with mischief. Your room is too warm, you complain. He hasn't even processed what you've said before you slip through the doorway and plop your bedding near his, fluffing up your pillow and arranging your space how you like it.

You fall asleep almost instantly; the next morning, you proclaim you slept better on the hard flooring of Dan Heng's room than any night in your soft bed.

Dan Heng stays up the whole night, studying your face like an astronomer, trying to understand the way you seem to orbit around him. Maybe the forces of attraction have finally gone in his favor, drawing you close to him.

As the days pass, he begins to reciprocate your signals. When the Astral Express splits up on missions, he ensures you're always with him, regardless of how March and the Trailblazer pout. He'll send them a flat, unimpressed stare, your hand and his tightly intertwined. Himeko and Welt notice, but don't say anything. They underestimate Dan Heng's love, the true gravity of the situation is much stronger than they perceive it to be.

In public, Dan Heng manages to keep it together, though you make it difficult with how you cling to his side. He can't help but want to be protective of you when there are strangers sidling next to you. Any chance he can get, he makes sure he's walking closer to the center of the road.

In the privacy of his room, though, he becomes much more clingy. Night after night you arrive at his door and make yourself at home on the floor, and each night, you sleep a little closer to him. Soon enough, your hand is squeezing him as you dream; then his arm is looped around your shoulder; two pairs of legs tangled together beneath mismatched bedsheets; his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the faintest traces of perfume.

Then you don't show up one night.

Dan Heng spends hours waiting. He's normally not very fidgety, but tonight his foot taps a frantic tempo against the floor, eyes glued to the door.

Eventually, he gets up and heads to your room. The lights are dim, but he can see a sly smile playing on your lips like Cupid readying another arrow to fire at his heart. You've done it on purpose, and it both amuses and annoys him.

With a huff, he walks over to your bed and hoists you up into his arms. You make no move to get out of his grip, eyes sparkling playfully; you're just as entranced with him as he is with you, two stars orbiting each other.

Unceremoniously, he plops you down on his makeshift bed in the data bank, settling beside you. His arms loop around your torso, pulling you close. "I don't appreciate your prank," he grumbles.

You can't help but laugh. "I'm sure you don't." It's amusing to see Dan Heng pouting. His expression is relatively neutral, but you can see sulkiness in his eyes, feel how he squeezes you a little tighter than most nights.

"I want you to stay with me."

You smile, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I will."

[shurisneakers]

Omg hi if you're taking requests can u do one where bucket and reader are like investigating a murder or something and just make them bicker idk I'll read ur grocery list bro you can keep it annoyance to lovers like the "I just want you to stop saying odd shit" bit and then they fall in love

the way i had to cycle through multiple scenarios before landing on this so i could keep it lighthearted. hey sexy. ily mwah mwah

word count: 1.3k

warnings: mild thunderbolts spoilers, swearing, longing, reader being annoying, fake murders

my masterlist over here and my silly little inbox for more requests, should you please

They're trained assassins.

Bob is not.

Yeah he does the dishes, and folds his laundry and rewatches old movies he liked better the first time. But eventually, he realizes he needs something to get him out of bed.

So he starts organizing nights.

Trivia. Gets weirdly competitive, and the tiebreaker is the name of some random model of gun from 1996.

A wine tasting that resulted in seven open bottles, no glasses, and someone using a tactical knife to open a wheel of Brie.

Potlucks, even though they don't know what to do with fifteen packets of Doritos and no real food.

And finally-- murder mystery nights.

Which is objectively deranged, because why are they coming home from their day job to cosplay it at night, but worse.

But it’s Bob. And Bob asks with that quiet, hopeful tone that’s hard to refuse. So they come. They try to stay longer than thirty minutes.

There's a body on the floor, covered in fake blood. None of the metallic smell that usually follows one-- it's something sweet. Suspiciously close to edible.

Bucky arrives late thirty minutes. Ridiculous, considering he lives in the building.

You arrive five minutes after that.

The others have already formed their teams, so he gets paired off with you. He knows why Bob has done this, no one in the tower was particularly subtle about the both of you. To their credit, he doesn't fight it.

The teams have already gotten a headstart, and he doesn't know what to do at a crime scene that he did not cause.

He also knows for a fact that neither of you have read the case file.

"Hmm," you say, kicking at the body with your toe. "Suspicious."

"What?" Bucky asks dryly.

"It appears the victim is...dead."

He stares at you. "That's the fucking game."

"I see," you hum. "As I said. Suspicious. Perhaps the murderer enjoys playing...games."

He closes his eyes. “I forgot how quiet it was when you weren't around.”

“And you hated it.”

“I cleaned the kitchen twice.”

“That’s grief, Bucky.”

He glances at you, expression unreadable. “You think you’re funny.”

“I think I’m observant.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, but doesn't quite lift.

Bucky hands you a sheet of paper. “You’re the maid. You found the body.”

“No. You're the maid. You found the body."

"That's not how this works. This is not a negotiation."

Five minutes later Bucky is the maid. He found the body.

Bucky ignores you trying to lift the thing with one foot.

"Mr. Long was found by his maid, Ms. Bennett, when she came to work," he reads out dryly. "She says to the police, 'Gee''-"

And then he stops.

You raise an eyebrow. "What does she say?"

"I don't know, there's, like fifteen typos on this thing." He squints. "'Gee howdy, well I walked in and he was on the floor, cold as a slice of pie..that was left in the refrigerator'."

"Things that are famously cold." You nod. "Read it again. Put a little drawl into it. Gee howdy."

"No."

“Read it again. Commit.”

“No.” He folds up the paper. "Did you find any clues?"

"None. Where is the chalk?"

"Chalk?"

"I want to outline his body," you tell him.

"That is not a real thing that happens."

"But if we work together, we can live in a world where it does."

You settle for permanent marker. The team was not going to be happy when they see this.

Either way, he doesn't say anything when you hand the cap to him and start drawing around the dummy. He even tells you you missed a spot.

He doesn't mind that he's paired up with you. You'd showed up at midnight and slept through most of the day, so this was really the first time you were speaking since you'd come back.

Yelena and Ava breeze past on the way to the kitchen, clearly more invested. Someone mentions a footprint.

Bucky doesn't even know the murder victim's full name.

"What the fuck are you doing,” Bucky asks, squinting at your latest addition. "What’s this circle?

"I drew a basketball. He looks like he's playing."

He’s about to argue, but something stops him. Maybe it’s the way your finger traces the imaginary arc of the shot. The line of his jaw knows what that feels like. The thought of it makes him swallow just the briefest amount.

He clears his throat. "What is wrong with you."

"Look at his arm. I'm gonna draw him a basket."

"Stop it. We're supposed to be investigating."

"I already investigated. He's straight up dead, man."

''That's not--"

"RIP for real." You nod solemnly. "No chance of a come back."

"Investigate why he's here."

"Well, this is a dummy, Bucky. He's only here 'cause someone left him like this. I think we ought'a find that fool who left his mannequin out here and give him a real talking to."

He drags a palm down his face. "I don't want to be here. You're making this worse."

"Don't worry, we'll get to the bottom of this." You pat his shoulder. "What's this guy's name again?"

"I don't know. Mr Long."

"Mr So-Long." You smile wide. "Because he's dead."

He doesn’t argue. Not really. Not in the way that matters.

Bob asks on the group whether everyone's having fun. Everyone replies with various versions of 'yes'. Bob tells them there are no clues outside, and Alexei and John really have no reason to be rappelling down the side of the Avengers Tower.

Eventually, he starts reading the case notes. Finally, you abandon what you're doing and try to pick up on what's actually going on in the case.

You ignore his need for space, leaning into him to read for yourself.

“Why are you so close?” he mutters.

You don’t move. “I can’t read upside down.”

He reads the same line three times in a row. Can’t retain any of it. His brain is occupied with the way your hands are resting lightly on his wrist.

It's ten minutes to nine. Bucky's been trying to solve this on his own for a while now.

Bob, bless him, has tried to give everyone motives, but they don’t quite make sense. A missing cook. A driver who doesn’t show up until page four. A torn photograph. A coffee stain on the calendar. The date of a car accident circled in red.

You sniff the air. "San Marzano tomatoes."

"I'm pretty sure that's what the blood is made with." He continues reading from the notes. They’re sloppily written. Some of the pages are out of order. The names are inconsistent. The clues are vague.

"No," you say. "This was on purpose. This murder was at the hands of an Italian."

“There are no fuckin' Italians on the suspect list," he lies, knowing fully well he has no idea who the other suspects are, or if there are any.

"Fine. What other tomato-forward cuisines do you know?"

Bucky groans. "Let’s just say it was the maid. She poisoned him. Case closed.

"Well, actually Bucky, it's the driver. He took the fall for the crash a few years ago, got blamed for something that wasn’t really his fault. He drops Mr. Long off, follows him inside, kills him with a car key. The wound is something small. Multiple stabs, more than necessary, so it's definitely personal."

He stares at you.

He wonders if you meant the kiss you gave him before you left. He wonders if it meant anything to you. He’s been wondering that all week.

"Oh hey, you guys got it," Bob says, poking his head into the room. "Nice. I'll go tell the others you won."

"It was all Bucky. All I did was draw a chicken with his fingers."

Bucky shakes his head, but it’s with a softness you’ve seen before. Usually when you come back from a mission in one piece. When you make him laugh by accident. When he forgets, briefly, how much he isn’t supposed to want this.

"One more question, Bob," you say, spinning around. "Where was the driver from?"

“Oh, Ricci? Naples. Italian.”

"I fucking knew it."

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

[angelholic1]

Use me 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ ⤷ He's lazy, even during sex pairing : nagi seishiro x female reader 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ warning(s) : ooc? not edited, smut

Nagi barely lifted his head when you entered the living room.

He was sprawled out on the couch like a cat in the sun, long legs dangling off the edge, silver hair a messy tangle against the cushions, hoodie rumpled, shorts riding low on his hips. His phone lay abandoned on his chest, forgotten in favor of the blissful nothingness he seemed content to soak in.

You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "You’re hopeless," you said, unable to hide the fond amusement threading through your voice.

One lazy eye cracked open to look at you. Nagi didn’t even bother pretending to move.

"Walking over here's already too much work," he mumbled.

You snorted. "You're literally doing nothing."

"Exactly." A smirk tugged at his mouth. "Perfect way to spend the day."

You shook your head, pretending to be exasperated, but inside, you felt the usual pull toward him. It was ridiculous, how Nagi Seishiro could make your heart skip a beat without even trying. Without even moving.

Without thinking too hard about it, you crossed the room settling carefully on top of him, your knees straddling either side of his hips. A quiet hum of pleasure rumbled from his throat.

"Mm... that’s better," he said, voice low and pleased. His hands slid lazily up your thighs, stopping just under the hem of your shorts. His touch was light, maddeningly so, like he had all the time in the world.

You braced your hands on his chest. "You're not even gonna do anything?"

Nagi's eyelids drooped, his fingers making slow, featherlight circles against your bare skin. "Why would I? You came to me," he murmured. "Feels nice like this. Warm."

You flushed, not from embarrassment, but from the way his hands lingered, a teasing weight that made your stomach twist in anticipation.

He wasn't going to move. He was going to make you do all the work. And somehow, that was even hotter.

You leaned down, capturing his mouth in a slow, lazy kiss. He kissed you back without urgency, letting you set the pace lips soft, tongue slow and slick against yours. Every touch, every movement, was drawn out like he was savoring it.

You shifted against him, feeling the growing hardness beneath his shorts  and Nagi let out a low, lazy moan against your mouth, one that vibrated through your whole body.

"Mm... keep going," he whispered, breath hot against your lips. "Feels good."

You pulled back just enough to glare at him playfully. "You’re so lazy it’s actually impressive."

He chuckled, a deep, low sound, and let his hands fall back to the couch, surrendering completely. "Don’t wanna waste energy," he said, smirking. "Use me, baby."

God. The audacity.

But even worse, the way he said it, so casual, so shameless, made your stomach tighten with want.

You ground down against him more deliberately this time, drawing a lazy groan from his throat. His hips flexed instinctively under you, chasing the friction, but he still refused to really move, just letting you set the rhythm, letting you use him.

His eyes fluttered half-shut, his lips parting in soft pants. "Shit... Feels too good to move..."

You kissed down his jaw, his throat, his collarbone, slow, open-mouthed kisses that left his skin slick and shivering under your mouth. His heart beat wildly against your lips.

"Lazy boy," you teased in a whisper.

"Mm," he hummed, not even denying it. "Your problem now."

You smirked against his skin, then slid your hands under the hem of his hoodie, pushing it up slowly, exposing the lean muscles of his stomach, the soft heat of his skin.

He didn’t help. Of course not. He just lay there, watching you through heavy-lidded eyes.

You tugged the hoodie off eventually, throwing it to the side, and leaned back to admire him, hair messy, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide.

"So pretty," you murmured without thinking.

Nagi smiled, slow and a little smug. "I know."

You rolled your eyes and leaned down to kiss his chest, nipping gently at his skin. His abs tensed under your mouth, a quiet gasp escaping him.

You rocked your hips again, slower this time, teasing, and Nagi whimpered, low and broken. His hands finally lifted, just a little, to grip your hips loosely, guiding you with lazy rolls of his body.

"Ahh... Fuck..." he breathed. "You're killin' me..."

Good.

You slipped a hand between your bodies, sliding his shorts down low enough to free him, hard, heavy, twitching against his stomach. He didn't even help you get them off completely; he just groaned when the cool air hit his skin.

You slid your panties aside and lined yourself up with him, your body trembling with anticipation. Nagi’s head tipped back against the couch, throat bobbing as he swallowed down on his spit.

"Please..." he whispered, voice wrecked. "Just sit on it already, babe... Can't wait anymore..."

The desperation in his voice made your whole body throb. Slowly, so slowly, you sank down onto him, feeling him stretch and fill you inch by inch.

Nagi gasped, his hands gripping your hips tighter now, though he still barely moved, letting you take him, letting you sink onto him completely.

"Shit... shit..." he moaned, his voice breaking. "S'perfect... you're perfect..."

You stayed still for a moment, breathing hard, feeling him twitch inside you, so full, so deep, and Nagi whined, trying weakly to rock his hips.

"Move, please baby?" he begged, voice breathless. "Need you to..."

You smiled softly and started riding him slowly, savoring every second. Nagi’s hands slid up your back, under your shirt, clumsy and desperate. His head lolled back, his mouth open in helpless pleasure.

Every roll of your hips drew a broken sound from him and yourself soft gasps, lazy curses, breathy moans. His hands stayed on you, grounding him, but he never took control, letting you do what you wanted to him and exactly how you wanted it to be.

"You feel so good," he panted, eyes fluttering. "Fuck, you're so good..."

You leaned down to kiss him again, messy, panting kisses, your bodies moving together slow and sticky-sweet. The couch creaked under you, the air thick with heat, the lazy rhythm building higher and higher until you were both trembling.

Nagi's hands finally tightened at your waist, guiding you a little faster now, his breath stuttering.

"hmm..." he whispered, eyes squeezed shut. "Please... don't stop... need you..."

“Are you going to help me next time..? Please Sei..Can’t do everythin’ on my own.”“Hmm..maybe..”  he mumbled, voice slurred with exhaustion and bliss.

[nowanderers]

xavier x reader —ੈ✩‧₊˚

warnings: smut, oral (f! receiving), thigh fucking, cum on panties

wc: 1.2K

tagged: @luckylittlepaw

artist note: i needed a change of pace after what i wrote for sylus. ones written for the other men can be found here.

things did start off innocent. 

you’d both planned for a nap, drained from last night’s mission and the 2 am return home. you’d both yawned through the afternoon. declarations of sleepiness passed both of your lips— though for xavier that’s typical. 

those sleepy intentions died the moment his cock poked your ass. your bedroom, now anything but a quiet environment suitable for sleeping. the incessant squeak from your bed frame and xavier’s light gasps overshadow the swishing of the smooth bed sheets beneath your frenzied movements. 

warm puffs of jagged, short breaths tickle your bare skin as you feel xavier’s head rest against the back of your neck. caught between two strong arms, you press your hips into him while he ruts against you. his cock feels hard and heavy tucked between your plush thighs. the fat tip firm as it rubs along your damp, thin lace panties in wanton need. 

he’s holding you close to his chest so lovingly– contrasting the depraved way he rolls his hips. when xavier’s pace picks up your body floods with more heat. you pant in dire need of cold air to fill your lungs, feeling parched. skin on fire under the thick blanket that conceals you both. tearing it off, you shiver from both his teasing cock and the cool air nipping at your skin. your sweaty bodies stick together like glue as you move in tandem. you push back into him, hips tilted as you chase after the tiny ghosts of friction that torture your clit. pussy undeniably sopping wet with need– ready for more than this.

xavier’s gentle hands move away from your waist in favor of touching your stomach. his fingers softly caress their way to your chest, sending a flurry of energized butterflies straight to your cunt. he covers your tits with his large hands and he gives them both a squeeze that has your eyes rolling back. he’s close. his slowly bruising and ravenous grip on you is the leading indicator.

the man only ever got rough with you minutes before cumming. his fingers dig into your skin as he uses your chest as leverage while he fucks your thighs. every sound he let out sent you reeling. his labored breaths build until he’s moaning so softly in your ear. the wet slide of his cock between your legs becomes sloppy as his hips buck and stutter into a desperate rhythm. you feel the heat against you before you realize he’s cumming. spurts of his cum hit your thinly clothed center and you mewl from the hot sensation. he ruins the sheets and your underwear, smearing his load all over the lace fabric.

eventually, xavier’s breathing evens out. you’re still snuggled together in the middle of your bed, cum trickling down your thigh. “what happened to feeling sleepy?” you ask with a lazy smile stretching on your lips as his arms coil around your waist. he kisses along your neck and draws you closer into his hold– as if he could get any closer to you at this moment.

“i couldn’t sleep,” he answers simply, voice dulcet as the words brush against your skin. shifting, he lets go of you while he continues further. “i read somewhere that helps.” 

you feel the mattress dip and you turn to see him moving farther down your bed. “what are you doing?” you ask, catching his attention. finding your cluelessness kind of cute, xavier smiles and reaches for your hand, giving it a tender squeeze thereafter.

“helping you fall asleep.” 

xavier settles between your legs without another word. he gives your hand another loving squeeze before leaving it to lie alone on top of the cold sheets. your gaze follows his movements as he adjusts you until your thighs flank either side of his head. 

pretty, glacier-blue eyes gloss over your body with a fleeting glance before lingering on the messy scene at your entrance. his steady hands spread your legs wide, exposing more of you to him. sticky and cum soaked, your panties clung to your center. they outline your pussy so hotly that his eyes burn with desire. slowly, he slides the fabric to the side. you watch with bated breath as he leans down and licks a teasing fat stripe through your delicate folds. he sighs against you, saturating your dewy pussy with his spit as he repeatedly drags his skilled tongue through your cunt. he groans at the taste, pausing to savor the sweet essence on his lips before diving back in for another lustful lick that has your toes curling.

xavier doesn’t do the same thing long enough for you to get used to it. he flicks his wet tongue across your clit before sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth, teasing every nerve ending on its surface. after he pulls a string of shaky moans out of your chest, he slides the warm muscle all across your pussy, cleaning up every bit of your wetness with the eager slurp of his lips. enjoying himself, his eyes fall closed and he releases a peaceful hum that strokes all the sensitive points within you. he laps at you keenly, trying to work out what you needed most– the answer was all of it.

with every deep, lingering lick across your slippery wet cunt, you sink further into a bliss so heavenly. warm, fuzzy, and gingerly carving you out from the inside. 

xavier has such a sinfully drawn-out way of eating you out. slow, sinuous, but impactful, like he had all the time in the world. he moans against you, languidly shaking his head back and forth along your folds while he sucks your clit between his lips, tongue flicking against it in his mouth. 

“oh.” you whisper.

he always got this into it. the sensation ravaging your body with every sound that’s muffled into your cunt. his fingers bite into the skin at your thighs as he presses his face closer, using them as handles while he sloppily makes out with your sweet pussy. he groans again, rendering you speechless. all you can do is shake loose the mangled syllables that catch in your throat as his mouth pushes you closer to the edge. the sounds flowing past your lips want to be words, instead settling for half-formed pleas and whines that stretch on into oblivion. 

xavier brings all of his focus to your throbbing clit, swirling his tongue around the aching bud nonstop while you hold his head firmly in place. you can’t help but cry out as his ministrations successfully shut your body down. a couple of deliciously rough licks later, your cunt trembles through a gushing wet orgasm– lips framing his name through a debauched noise that’s hard to categorize. loud. uncontrolled and erotically charged. the love child of a moan and a scream.

you’re walked through your high by the subtle drag of xavier’s tongue. the heat of it ebbs and flows, coursing beneath your skin before all the raw pleasure in your body fizzles out. until you’re left with this mind-numbing sleepiness that has your eyes half-lidded. 

you remain splayed out, breathing through deep inhales and exhales while he lays soothing kisses along your inner thighs. his lips travel up your torso and across your chest. even now, you can feel the emotions that he’s able to wake up within you with each kiss he presses into your skin. you smile weakly at the love that flourishes in your chest. the thick blanket from before covers your body once more. 

one last gentle kiss is placed on your forehead and soft words that you can’t discern barely reach your ears. far too sleepy as you near the precipice of a phenomenal nap.

[charrfie]

I recently had a clinical trial related dream and wanted to draw some moments from it. Below the read more I've included my dream journal entry of it and another bonus sketch!

The dream takes place after the events of the game itself, where angel and lee had been living together for roughly a year now. They settled into a schedule and were well accustomed to their daily rhythms. Angel, however, had used this time to start considering what they wanted to do with their life. Now that they weren't reliant on a paycheck to paycheck life, they could consider options and career paths that actually brought them joy, weren't detrimental to their health, and weren't too demanding of them. And so, for the first time in a long while, angel considered going back to college. Lee was quick to encourage them! They didn't know what they wanted to do quite yet aside from being in a creative field, so they planned to go in for general courses and eventually settle into a certain path. Unfortunately for lee, the college they would get into was states away (a couple days drive), and so he missed them terribly but still cheered them on in following their passions.

At first, they had some difficulty making friends. They weren't eager to open up and were afraid that if they did make friends there, they would eventually get burnt out from school a second time and leave them behind. Their favorite class in the first weeks turned out to be a film class! Their roommate also ended up in this same class, and so as luck would have it, they became fast friends despite angel's worries. She was a very adri-equivalent character.... though she WAS someone else in this dream. Unfortunately though, angel would also go on to make enemies with a girl in the same class that was incredibly rude to them for no reason, sabotaging them throughout the semester, tripping them, talking smack about them in front of their face, etc. Even going so far as to spread rumors about angel that almost got angel suspended from the school. It was probably transphobia or something idk; there's no other discernable reason for the random hatred campaign she was running. Thankfully, angel was still well-liked by their classmates and teachers. But it did wear on them.

Lee calls to check up on them often, always offering to make the drive up there in case angel needs anything, though angel is quick to assure him things are working out. They do confide in him about their bully, which he can tell is bothering them, even if they brush it off. He's worried sick about them being so far from home and having to deal with that.

As the semester nears it's end, and angel is getting ready to go back home in a couple weeks for break, they begin making a breakthrough with their bully. Again, for no discernable reason! All of a sudden she's nicer to them, even if there's traces of malice in their interactions with one another. Maybe school WILL be alright, they think. If this works out. If it's all settled. Maybe she's starting to see me as a person instead of a freak to harass.

With the closing of the semester comes two things: one, finals are due. In angel's film class, they're meant to bring in a final film they've shot to present to the class. As these presentations are happening, they're set to have a party in class, with everyone bringing different foods to eat while the watchparty happens! Two, after finals are completed, the last two weeks of the semester will be spent on a field trip where everyone will stay at a fancy hotel and get to go on museum trips to learn about art/film. So of course, angel excitedly speeds to class the morning of the watchparty, only to stop in their tracks when they see a very suspicious looking lee that is painfully aware he is not doing a very good job of hiding. As angel walks up to him, he visibly deflates, trying to excuse it with "I just wanted to make sure you were okay, I was worried." Angel gives him a hard time about it, saying "you couldn't have waited two more weeks?" Despite their teasing though, they feel bashful about the fact that he drove all that way with the intention of just checking on them in secret and driving back home immediately after. So they tell him that they have to go to class, but once they're done then they can let him stay in their dorm room, he only needs to busy himself in the meantime.

They make it to class at the last minute, film hard drive and brownies in hand. Considering that they've been talking about lee all semester with their classmates, they're eager to mention that he's visiting the campus today, so everyone's free to meet him if they want. They do note, however, that their bully isn't in class today, and they're admittedly a bit relieved because- even if they've been making progress with her- they still would rather not send out an open invitation for her to hang out after class. As they settle down and the first films are being pulled up by the teacher on the projector, somehow (AND DON'T ASK ME HOW, ITS JUST DREAM LOGIC) the projector screen at the front of the room suddenly lights up with security camera footage of a random hallway at the school (WHY DID THE TEACHER HAVE ACCESS TO THIS AND WHY WAS IT THE COMPUTER DEFAULT????), and on it is lee chasing down angel's bully into a stairwell. The teacher does not make note of this because she's having too much difficulty figuring out technical problems with plugging in the students' hard drives, so angel darts out of the classroom unnoticed, along with other class friends that follow them.

While I don't remember the exact details of the conversation that followed, angel explained to everyone that they needed to find those two before anything bad happened, and the group split up. Cue running around the school montage! Angel kept trying to call lee in hopes that they could distract him and find out where he was, to no avail.

Out of breath and awfully dizzy after 15 minutes of sprinting around the campus, angel shakily walked out onto a random balcony to get some fresh air and sit down, only to find lee sitting out there already. A lee with........ blood on him, they found. It wasn't a lot, just enough to notice it on his face and a few drops on his shirt. But it was enough to get angel mad enough that they forgot about their dizziness. As soon as lee noticed them, he looked at them silently like a sad, wet puppy who knows he's about to get in trouble. And he was. Bc angel was fucking pissed, not frozen and terrified like the last time they found brandon's body. Not only were they furious over the fact that the day they had been so looking forward to got interrupted by this, not only were they furious that lee had done this AGAIN after promising he wouldn't ever, but the fact that they had been making actual PROGRESS in the relationship they had with this girl and had other ways of addressing it was really the cherry on top. So they fully let into him for it, getting angry enough that they were brought to tears.

Again, the details of the conversation are fuzzy, but I do remember at one point lee said "the people that have passed me on this balcony keep asking ME if I'm alright because they think I've just had a nose bleed," kind of cluing angel in on the fact that he very intentionally didn't clean himself up because he knew he wasn't supposed to do this again and wanted to self sabotage by getting caught before angel could see him. Angel doesn't know what to say or how to handle the situation at all, so they tell lee to just go back to their room, exasperated, and they'll figure out what to do about this later.

There's a bit of a time skip after this point. I know angel returned to their room at some point, only going back to class to tell their teacher that they weren't feeling well and needed to leave early. I can't recall what happened to any evidence of the murder, but it was never an issue. And for the next few days angel makes lee follow them around EVERYWHERE, even on their field trip, bc they don't trust him not to go off and do something stupid (either to someone else to himself). They even make arrangements for him to come on the field trip with them because they don't want to let him out of their sight.

The rest of the dream is the fuzziest (and also I'm tired of writing), but it revolved around the two slowly trying to repair their relationship. Even after the field trip was over and break had started, angel said that they didn't want to go back home and wanted to spend more time away from the house, thinking that maybe their distance from lee at college had perhaps allowed him to spiral into his unhealthy thought patterns again, which he never mentioned over the phone since he wanted to make room for angel's grievances, considering how much they are dealing with. Maybe being on vacation might help. And despite how heavy everything in the dream was prior to this, it eventually lead to some especially cute moments between the pair. Also I remember tammy from anthology of the killer being there at one point for some reason. The end that's all I'm writing. Thank you.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Home is Where the Mouse is

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

Summary: Ghost and Mouse begin their big city adventures!

Warnings: Language, Fluff, minor angst, smut (oral, M receiving), nudity, kissin, lovin, all that good stuff

Word Count:3K

A/n: now that the fuckin 8 months of darkness are finally over i've got more motivation and i really hope the creativity starts flowin cause mama wants to write. BUT ANYWAY here they are your fav pairing ghost and mouse, in the beginning of their big city adventures (im gonna update masterlists soon i suh-wear!) anyway thats all, love ya hope ya enjoy!!!

The Story of Ghost and Mouse

~*~

The concept of 'home' doesn't really exist to you.

Home.

You'd looked it up once, during one of those endlessly long days when your Ghost was away.

Home.

Noun.

the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.

Home.

Something that hasn't existed to you, at least not in a positive way, for your entire life.

But now, somehow, you're discovering this 'home'.

Creating it, even.

You've landed, exited the helo, and are now standing just inside the doors leading home.

Simon's fingers tugging on your sleeve pull you from your thoughts, your dreams, and back to the present moment.

"Here." He hands you a box wrapped haphazardly in brown wrapping paper.

You eye it warily, looking up at Simon for some sort of explanation.

"S'not much," Price chimes in, "just a little going away gift me an' the boys put together for you."

You go to hand it back to Simon, but Price stops you with a gentle hand on your forearm.

"We put it together for you, Mouse. Not for him."

You frown, looking between the box and the Captain.

It takes you a few moments to process this, but eventually, you pull the box in toward yourself.

"Thank you," you finally murmur, unease settling heavily on your chest.

The older man gives you a gentle smile, then takes a half-step back.

"Well, you two stay safe. Stay outta trouble, Mouse." Soap gives you a gentle pat on the shoulder in farewell, and Gaz gives you a wave, and then you're standing there alone with your Ghost.

Slowly, you turn to face him, eyes wide and full of wonder and fear and excitement.

His gaze is locked on yours, face covered by a black medical mask, but his eyes. His eyes are there, they always are.

Brown and soft when they rake over you, full of softness he's kept hidden for years, decades even.

And now it's all yours, spilling through the cracks in his cold hard exterior. A pot of love and light and all the good things he can muster, boiling over on the stove of his heart.

And you're the one who lit the fire.

"C'mon, Mouse. Let's go home."

The entire drive through the city, your eyes are trained out the window. Looking at anything, everything. The gloomy clouds that spit a few tears every now and then, the stragglers walking wherever they need to go

A fire truck races past in the opposite direction and you swivel around in your seat, craning your neck to try and follow it as much as you can. 

And Ghost says nothing. 

He’s silent the entire drive, as he usually is, but this time it’s different. So different. This time he’s not going home alone. 

No, now he has you, his sweet little mouse. And the last thing he wants to do is pull you from the window where you sit and stare in awe. 

“Look!” You exclaim suddenly, a smile spreading widely across your face.

He follows your finger, brows drawing together as the car slows to a stop at a red light. 

“Look look look!” You point harder, pressing your finger firmly against the glass. 

“What is it, love?” Simon asks curiously, rolling down your window. 

You gasp, looking at him with pure bewilderment written across your face as if he’s just performed witchcraft before your very eyes. 

“There! That one!” 

Finally, he sees what you’re pointing at, and he can’t help the sad smile that tugs at his lips. 

“That’s a school bus. Kids get on that and it drives them to school. S’where they go to learn how to read and write… do math. That sor’a thing.”

The more you learn about that world, the more you realize you’ve missed out on. 

All of this, every single thing, is brand new to you. The giant glowing signs in the sky, the vehicles - some different shapes and colours, the supermarkets, banks, hotels, train tracks. 

The reminder of your bleak upbringing tugs on Simon’s heartstrings, and he reaches across to rest a hand on your thigh, giving it a loving squeeze. 

Your eyes drop down to where his hand meets your leg, and then you lift your gaze up to his face. 

The car starts moving again, but Simon glances over at you every now and then. 

“What’s goin’ through that head a’ yours?” He asks after a few moments of silence. Moments spent, mostly, staring at him. 

“What do we do now?” You finally ask, voice small. 

He gives your thigh another squeeze then gently rubs his thumb back and forth against you. 

“Now we do whatever we want. For a bit, at least.”

He’s got three weeks off. Three whole weeks to spend with you doing whatever the two of you please. 

“What does Simon want?” 

A number of things happen in the few heartbeats that pass between your question and his answer. The first being him falling even deeper in love with you. 

The second thing that happens is a deep contemplation of your words. 

What does Simon want? 

You. That’s what. 

He doesn’t care if you spend the next three weeks in his bed too fucked-out to move. 

He doesn’t care if you want to go to Saskatoon, Paris, or the moon, for that matter. Whatever you want is what he wants. 

Whatever makes you happy he’s sure will make him happy. 

And so he answers as honestly as he can. 

“I want you, sweet Mouse. S’long as ‘ve got that ’m a happy man.”

The smile that stretches your cheeks is the same smile that melts his heart. 

His hand moves from your thigh to your hand and then he’s lacing his thick calloused fingers through your small, fragile ones.

He tugs your hand over toward his face, chapped lips kissing your skin for a long moment before lowering your hands. 

“How ‘bout we go home, spend a few days there, and take it from there. How’s that sound?”

You give his hand a squeeze and settle into your seat a bit more.

“We go home,” you agree, sighing softly and turning to look out the window again, this time with a lovesick smile on your pretty pretty face. 

~*~

‘Home’ turns out to be a small one-bedroom apartment in what Simon describes as an ‘affordable’ area of a rainy city that you wouldn’t be able to point out on a map. 

The people here sound similar to your Simon, but none quite have the same accent. 

It’s a short trek up three flights of stairs and down a damp hallway, but then he’s unlocking the door and motioning for you to enter first.

You hesitate just in front of the threshold, unsure eyes darting up to his and waiting for his confirmation before you take another step. 

He watches you for a moment, then gives you a gentle but definite nod.

You step inside, breathe your first breath of home, and it’s nothing but Simon. 

His scent clings to the cold air in his apartment, wrapping around you when you take another step further inside. 

“Sorry for the cold. No point havin’ the heat goin’ when m’ not home.”

You don’t answer him, far too amazed by all that surrounds you. 

Now, Simon makes good money. Far more than he really needs, but that doesn’t mean he splurges. 

He’s away from the apartment more often than not, so why buy expensive furniture, or soft area rugs, or more than one chair for his kitchen table? 

His apartment, though impeccably clean, could compare to the shit-holes he’d often find you living in. 

But to you? This is luxury. 

Simon sets his bags down and locks the door, leaning against it and watching as you slowly and carefully explore your new home. 

You drag your fingers over every surface you can reach, tears prickling your eyes at the beauty surrounding you. 

The walls are intact and don’t have a single bullet hole. None of the windows are broken, and the couch might be the softest thing you’ve ever touched. 

Simon follows you as you venture over to the balcony, peering outside curiously. 

The view catches you off guard and you quickly look over at Simon, as if confirming that this is real, you’re not dreaming.

He only gives you a soft smile and a gentle nod.

Taking a shaky breath, you continue exploring. 

You dust your fingers over the bookshelf, across the spines of well-loved books about who-knows-what.

And then you’re venturing into the kitchen, curiously opening cupboards and then peering into the fridge. 

“We’ll go grocery shopping together. Get you some real nice snacks.”

You nod absentmindedly, leaving the kitchen and heading toward the other two rooms, opening up every single closet on your way. 

Simon can’t help but chuckle when he hears you turn the water on and off and on and off and on and back off in the bathroom. 

When you make your way into the bedroom, he follows, moving silently and watching as you trace your fingers over his bed.

Your bed, now. 

Besides that, there's a single nightstand with a lamp on it serving as the only other piece of furniture in the room. Another thing he plans on changing now that you’re here. 

“So? What do you think?” He asks after a moment, watching the way you stare at the bed, topped with an old duvet and one single pillow. 

Another thing he needs to change. 

“Home,” you murmur, pressing your hand flat against the bed and then looking over at him. 

He nods and makes his way over to you. Two strong, deadly hands push your hair away from your face, and then they’re gently holding you, tilting your head back. 

Your lips part and your lids flutter closed, and Simon marvels at how easily you let him touch you, handle you. 

“S’right, Mouse. We’re home. Jus you ’n me.”

He catches the falling drops as you melt into him, cradles you against him and presses kiss after tender kiss to your head. 

The two of you stand there for a long while, long enough for him to groan when you finally pull back to look up at him. 

“‘M’gonna shower. Care to join?”

You nod up at him eagerly, slipping your fingers under the back of his shirt and humming when you feel his warm skin. 

A chuckle rumbles in his chest.

“‘F I didn’t know any better I’d think you just want me naked,” he muses, slowly walking the two of you backward. 

You follow his lead effortlessly, your eyes focused up on his as a mischievous smile spreads across those lips that he wants to kiss. 

Your wish is promptly granted. 

Soon enough, the two of you are bare beneath the spray of the water. Water that will get warm and stay warm, unlike what the two of you are used to. 

Simon washes your hair for you, massages the three-in-one into your scalp then rinses it while trying to remember the last time he bought shampoo. 

Another thing he’ll need to change. 

The list grows with each room he sees you in. 

A toothbrush for you, a new tube of toothpaste because his is not looking the best. 

Another mug, because maybe one really isn't enough. 

He’s pulled from his thoughts by those soft hands of yours, wandering down his belly, following the happy trail. 

He sucks in a sharp breath when your little fingers wrap around the base of his semi, quickly chubbing beneath your delicate touch. 

You look up at him with those wide, innocent eyes, and he sways a little on his feet with how quickly the blood rushes south. 

Curiosity cocks your head to the side and pulls your hand upward, then slowly pushes it back down. 

Simon pushes a heavy breath through his nose and drops his head back as one hand grabs your wrist while the other braces against the wall. 

The water rains against your back as you slowly stroke his shaft, bottom lip tucked securely between your teeth as you watch the big man before you slowly come apart.

The hand on your wrist tightens but doesn't stop you nor does it push you to pump him faster. 

No, he’s more than happy to take things at your pace, to let you have your way with him, do what you want to him. 

And that’s exactly what you do.

Slowly, you sink to your knees in front of him, a position he’s only ever imagined you in, and one he’s not sure you knew about. 

One day you’ll tell him about the website you stumbled upon that someone must’ve left open on the tablet, but today is not that day. 

Instead, you push your hair back and stroke his length a bit faster, leaning forward to place a gentle kitten lick on the tip.

His hips stutter forward and his knees buckle the tiniest bit and you can’t help but giggle.

“Fuckin’ hell. You tryna kill me?”

You grin up at him and lick your lips and fuck if that isn’t the sexiest thing he’s ever seen in his life. 

He has half a mind to stop you so he can grab his phone and take a photo of you and make it his lock screen. 

Wet hair clinging to your face in some spots, eyes wide, back arched, chest up, pretty hand around his cock and prettier lips pressing against the tip. 

The thought leaves his head though when you wrap your mouth around the mushroom tip, tongue swirling around experimentally while your hand continues stroking him. 

His abs flex, shoulders hunch forward and his breathing becomes laboured. 

Water runs down the strong bridge of his nose, falling over his lips only to be blown away with each pant of air. 

The hand on your wrist moves to your head, not pushing you down but certainly stopping you from pulling back (not that you had any plan on doing that).

Encouraged by his reaction, you flatten your tongue against the underside and slide down his length as far as you can go, stopping only when you feel like you may gag. And then you pull back and do it again. And again. And again. Each pass brings you further and further down his heavy cock until your nose is nestling in the blond batch of hair at the base. 

Your eyes water as you fight your gag reflex again, but the look on his face is so worth it. 

His eyes are squeezed shut and he’s flushed pink from his chest to the tips of his ears. 

You hum around a mouthful of him, coughing when he snaps his hips forward the tiniest bit, forcing more down your throat. 

You pull away, gasping for air, and he opens his mouth to apologize but all that comes out is a choked moan when you immediately drop your mouth back onto him.

“Fuck!”

You don’t stop, mimicking what you saw in the video, and it seems to work because in no time Simon is gripping your head with both hands and trying his hardest not to fuck his cum down your throat and into your belly. 

It surprises you a bit, the thick warm salty ropes that spurt in your mouth and down your throat, but it’s not unwelcome.

It tastes salty and so distinctly Simon that you can’t help but moan and greedily suck it out of him. 

This time he can’t control it - his hips stutter forward when you continue sucking and licking at his oversensitive cock, not stopping until he physically pries you off, and even then you whine up at him like he ruined your meal. 

You stay on your knees, warm water raining down on you, lips covered in spit and cum and fuck you’ve never looked better. 

Simon leans his shoulder against the wall, panting heavily as one hand reaches out to stroke your cheek lovingly. You lean into his touch, humming softly, and he feels himself wrap around your finger a little bit tighter. 

“C’mere,” he whispers, reaching for your hand and tugging you up to your feet. 

Your legs ache a bit, but that disappears the moment he presses his lips to yours.

He kisses you with such fever you squeak in surprise, the sound quickly silenced and devoured by his hungry mouth.

His hands, big and warm and so made just to touch you, to feel you, find your waist and pull you flush against him.

You melt against him as the warm water beats against your back, rivalling the intense heat radiating from his chest.

Finally, when your lungs are aching, he lets you break away from him.

Your heavy breaths mingle in the damp shower air, and you can't help but giggle softly up at him.

Blond hairs dangle close to his eyes, water dripping from them as the corners of his scarred lips tug upward.

"What?" He asks, "Somethin' funny?"

You shake your head and tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, then gaze up at him with wide eyes full of admiration and adoration.

And in his eyes, you find an exact mirror of your own.

Home.

[pinkslipxox]

Mom!Billie is left alone with the twins (toddlers) for a week b/c her wife had a work trip on the east coast. The first few days are smooth sailing, until one day, the twins won’t stop crying and keep throwing tantrums all day. Eventually, Billie breaks down and everyone is in inconsolable tears.

hola, mi cariño! Omg yes, i hope you like it 🥰🙈

——————————————————————————

You’re miles away on the East Coast, wrapped up in a whirlwind of meetings and conference calls. You know your wife, Billie, is at home with the twins, Ava and Mia, but you can’t fully shake that nagging worry in the back of your mind. You have a huge presentation today, an important milestone, yet your heart pulls you home to the chaos that you know must be unfolding.

Back home, Billie is valiantly attempting to manage the twins, but the day has taken its toll. The morning starts off with cheerful giggles that quickly turn into a cacophony of shrieks and tears. It feels like the universe has conspired to unleash the toddler tempest upon her. The house is a mess— the scattered toys, the half-eaten snacks, the colorful crayon drawings that might have started as art but are now more akin to modern chaos.

No matter how sweetly she hums their favorite lullabies or how many games of peek-a-boo she plays, nothing seems to quell their cries. Billie takes a deep breath, trying to channel patience, but her heart aches as their little faces contort in frustration. After what feels like an eternity of trying to soothe them, Billie finally manages to get the twins settled, but not without tears spilling over from her own eyes. The overwhelming sense of love mixed with exhaustion washes over her, leaving her breathless.

As she gently lays them down for their much-needed nap, tears swell in her eyes, blurring her vision. In this quiet moment, she reaches for her phone, her finger trembling slightly as she dials your number. It connects almost instantly.

“Y/N...” Her voice breaks slightly, audible strain threading through it. You’re on the other end, immediately alert to the catch in her voice, dropping everything as you hear her call your name. The worry melts away as your heart aches for her, even from a distance.

“Billie, my love, what’s wrong?” You ask, your voice soft and soothing.

“It’s just…everything. I thought today would be easier but the girls…” She swallows hard, a sob escaping as she tries to squeeze the words out. “They won’t stop crying, and I—”

You can feel every ounce of her struggle. You wish you could teleport home, to wrap your arms around her, whisper sweet reassurances, and give her the comforting squeeze she needs. “Breathe, baby. Breathe. You’re doing an amazing job. They love you so much. You’ve got this.”

At the sound of your voice, she settles a bit, needing the warmth of your love to wash over her. “I miss you,” she admits, her voice fragile but laced with affection. “I don’t know how you do this without losing it.”

You chuckle softly, imagining her tousled hair and kind eyes framed with the soft hues of their cozy home. “I don’t do it alone, remember? You’re always with me. Just like I’m with you now. You can do this until I’m home, I believe in you,” you reassure her, your heart swelling with admiration for everything she’s juggling.

“I wish you were here,” she whispers, a pout forming on her lips as her tired eyes close momentarily, comforting herself with the thought of you. “You usually know how to make it all better.”

“I promise, I’ll be there before you know it. Just a few more meetings to power through, okay?” you coo back, your voice gentle and soothing, reminding her of those quiet moments you've shared. “And remember, I love you and I love our little girls so very much.”

“I love you too, Mama,” she murmurs softly, blissfully sinking into the warmth of your affection even through the distance. You can almost feel her snuggling into the phone, enveloped by your spirit.

After hanging up, Billie wipes her tear-streaked cheeks and breathes deeply, feeling a flicker of energy return. She walks back to the twins’ room, brushing her fingers over the slumbering forms of Ava and Mia with a tender smile. There's a deep-rooted love in her gaze, the kind that triumphs over the toughness of the day.

For that moment, the room feels lighter. The storm may rage outside, but inside, your connection remains steady, a comforting reminder that even on the hardest days, she is never truly alone. And the way she whispers “Mama” to herself makes her heart swell with a mix of love and gratitude, knowing that with you by her side — even when you’re far away — they’ll get through the day together.

[baigepueckers]

Nika Mühl X Reader

Number Ten Part 2

You took a deep breath before pushing open the door to Tim’s, the low hum of conversation spilling out into the cool night air. The dimly lit bar was packed a mix of college students filling the space, but your eyes were already searching for one person.

You clutched your phone tightly rereading Nika’s text one more time… Front left corner. Can’t wait to see you ❤️. Her words echoed in your mind with a source of comfort and the reason butterflies were swirling in your stomach. Meeting Nika was one thing, but meeting her team? You weren’t sure if your nerves could handle it.

You told yourself to breathe. Nika had made you feel safe, seen, and wanted in ways you hadn’t felt in a long time.

You spotted her almost immediately. Even in the crowded bar she stood out…her broad smile and effortless energy drawing you in like a magnet. She was mid laugh leaning against the table where her teammates sat but the moment she caught sight of you, her entire demeanor shifted.

Her eyes lit up and her smile softened into something just for you. She straightened up… already moving toward you completely ignoring the playful protests from her teammates behind her.

“Y/N” she greeted, her voice warm and filled with that familiar accent. “I was starting to think you got cold feet.”

You laughed nervously…shrugging as she closed the distance between you. “I almost did.”

“Good thing you didn’t” she said her tone low as her gaze swept over you. “You look… incredible.”

Her eyes lingered and you felt heat rise to your cheeks. She didn’t try to hide it either, the way her gaze softened as if she couldn’t quite believe you were standing in front of her.

“Thanks” you murmured, fidgeting slightly. “I feel a little overdressed compared to the team though.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Trust me, they don’t matter. Tonight I only care about you.”

Her words made your heart stutter and before you could respond Nika reached out, her hand finding yours with an ease that felt so natural. Her touch was warm and steady, in a way that melted away some of your nerves.

“Come on” she said her thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “I’ll introduce you, but don’t worry…they’re going to love you.”

You let her lead you toward the table, the chatter of the Uconn basketball team growing louder as you approached. They were an intimidating group…athletic, confident, and clearly close…but the way Nika stayed close to you and her hand never leaving yours made you feel braver.

“This is Y/N” Nika announced, her voice filled with pride as she glanced back at you. “The one I haven’t shut up about.”

Her teammates erupted into a chorus of teasing remarks and knowing laughs and you felt your cheeks burn. Nika just grinned clearly unfazed, and leaned in closer to murmur “Don’t let them get to you. They’re just teasing assholes.”

You laughed softly finding her playful reassurance oddly comforting.

As the night went on you found yourself relaxing more and more. Nika made sure of it, never straying far from your side her hand often brushing against yours or settling on your back in a gesture that felt protective and affectionate.

Whenever you laughed at something that KK or Paige said or joined in on the banter, Nika would watch you with a look that made your heart flutter. It was as if she couldn’t quite believe you were here, as if every smile or laugh you gave was something she wanted to memorize.

As the night went on Nika eventually got up to grab another round of drinks for the you both, leaving you with her teammates. You watched her retreat to the bar, her effortless confidence making it hard to look away.

“Is she always like that?” you asked, gesturing toward her as she leaned against the counter.

“Like what?” Azzi asked.

“Charming, smooth, completely confident?”

Azzi laughed, nodding in agreement. “Oh, absolutely. She’s the worst” She joked her tone was full of affection.

Your smile widened but the moment was interrupted when a man approached your table uninvited.

“Hey” he said, his gaze fixed on you. “Mind if I join you?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, actually…”

“Come on” he interrupted, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s just one drink.”

You glanced toward the bar, your chest tightening. Nika was still waiting for the bartender her back turned to the table.

“I’m here with someone” you said firmly.

The man didn’t seem to care, his grin widening. “They don’t seem to be paying much attention.”

Before you could respond a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“She’s with me.”

Nika was back.

Her tone was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it as she stepped between you and the man. She wasn’t smiling, her usually playful expression replaced with something far more serious.

The man held up his hands in mock surrender. “Relax…I was just talking to her.”

“Well, now you’re not” Nika said her voice steady and cold. “So move along.”

For a moment it looked like the man might argue but one glance at Nika’s stance… her height, her broad shoulders, the way her gaze dared him to test her…and he thought better of it. With a mumbled excuse he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Once he was gone, Nika turned to you, her expression softening instantly. “You okay?”

You nodded, though your heart was still racing…not from the man’s attention, but from the way Nika had handled it. There was something so steady, so protective in the way she had come to your side that it made you feel both reassured and slightly breathless.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Thanks.”

Nika’s jaw relaxed, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “No one bothers you while I’m here” she said, her voice low but full of meaning.

She slid back into her seat next to you angling her body so it was as though she was shielding you from the rest of the bar. Her hand found your knee, her fingers brushing against possessively.

“Did he say anything stupid?” she asked her tone light now though there was still an edge in her gaze.

“Not really” you admitted, smiling a little. “You scared him off before he got the chance.”

“Good” she said with a grin, leaning closer. “No one’s allowed to steal you away from me.”

Her words sent a pleasant warmth through your chest, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. “You’re a little over the top, you know that?”

“Maybe” she said, her grin widening as her fingers laced with yours under the table. “But I can’t help myself.”

The rest of the team didn’t press you for details about what had happened though you noticed a couple of them exchanging glances with Nika.

As the night wound down, the bar grew quieter and the team was thinning out as they began to head home. You and Nika were nestled in the corner of the booth, her arm was draped along the back of your seat.

Her teammates had all filtered out by now, each offering warm goodbyes and a few playful winks in Nika’s direction that made her roll her eyes but smile. By now it was just the two of you, the conversation flowing easily yet laced with the kind of nervous energy that made every glance and smile feel heavy with meaning.

When the bartender called for last call Nika looked at you, her smile soft and almost shy. “Do you, um… do you want to keep hanging out?”

You hesitated for a moment not because you didn’t want to, but because your pulse was thrumming with the realization that this felt like more than just a casual offer. “Where would we go?”

Her fingers brushed the edge of the table as she spoke her voice quieter now. “My place? We could… I don’t know, talk more. No pressure, though.”

Her gaze flickered to yours full of vulnerability that made your chest ache. It was clear she was trying to tread carefully, not wanting to push too hard or risk scaring you off.

“I’d like that” you said, your voice soft.

Her whole face lit up at your answer and she let out a small, relieved laugh. She stood slipping on her jacket before offering you your own. “Here, sweets” she murmured, holding it out for you. When you slid your arms into the sleeves, her hands lingered lightly on your shoulders for a moment before she stepped back.

The walk to her apartment was quiet but not awkward. Nika kept her hands shoved into her pockets, but as you both turned onto a quieter street her hand brushed yours. The small touch sent a thrill through you, and when she tentatively reached for your hand you gave it to her without hesitation.

She exhaled softly glancing over at you with a bashful smile. For the rest of the walk, you held onto each other, the silence between you filled with the sound of your footsteps and the faint hum of the city around you.

When you reached her apartment she paused at the door, turning to face you. “I just…before we go up I want to make sure you’re comfortable. If you change your mind at any point that’s totally fine.”

Her sincerity was disarming, and it made you feel safer than you expected. “I’m comfortable, Nika” you said softly.

She smiled, opening the door and leading you inside. Her apartment was cozy, with little touches that spoke to her personality…books piled neatly on the coffee table, a framed UConn jersey on the wall, and a pair of sneakers kicked off haphazardly by the door.

“It’s not much” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “But it’s home.”

You glanced around, taking in the warmth of the space, before looking back at her. “It’s perfect.”

Her cheeks flushed faintly and she gestured toward the couch. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get us some water.”

As she disappeared into the kitchen you sank into the couch, your fingers fidgeting slightly with the edge of your sleeve. The reality of being here in her space, felt both exhilarating and nerve wracking.

When she returned with two glasses of water she handed one to you before sitting beside you, close enough that your knees brushed. For a moment, neither of you said anything the quiet between you heavy but not uncomfortable.

“I’m glad you came tonight, Y/N” she said finally, her voice soft.

“So am I” you replied, your heart pounding as you met her gaze.

Her eyes searched yours and she hesitated before reaching out, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was so gentle, it made your breath hitch.

“I haven’t felt like this in a long time” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Like I can just… be myself with someone.”

Your chest tightened at her words, and you placed your hand over hers, letting your thumb trace lightly against her knuckles. “You’re too sweet” you said softly, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions swelling inside you.

Her lips quirked into a small smile, her gaze dropping briefly to where your hands were joined. “I was nervous about tonight” she confessed. “Not about you….I mean, I was nervous about impressing you. But… this right now? It feels easy.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” you agreed, your voice barely audible.

She leaned in slightly, her forehead nearly brushing yours. “I don’t want to mess this up, baby” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin.

“You won’t” you promised, your words coming out steadier than you expected.

The two of you sat closely on the couch, the conversation started to flow again, soft and easy. Nika asked you questions that felt genuine…about your favorite books, your dreams, and even little things like your go to coffee order. She seemed to hang on your every word, her focus so strong it made you feel like the most important person in the world.

You found yourself opening up in ways you hadn’t expected…laughing softly as you shared embarrassing stories or pausing when the moment called for something deeper. And Nika listened. Really listened. Her responses were thoughtful and her laugh…god, her laugh it lit up the entire room.

At some point the conversation turned to basketball, and she told you about her first game at UConn, the pressure she’d felt and the joy of being part of something bigger. “But you know what made it worth it?” she asked, her voice soft as she glanced at you. “Moments like this. Meeting people who make me feel like all of it.”

Your cheeks warmed at her words and for a moment, you were at a loss for how to respond. But she didn’t press, just reached for your hand again, her thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture that felt grounding.

Time slipped away as the two of you talked, the outside world forgotten. It wasn’t until a yawn slipped past your lips that Nika glanced at the clock and let out a soft laugh.

“It’s late” she said her tone full of surprise. “I didn’t even realize.”

You followed her gaze to the clock and blinked. It was almost 2 a.m., and your stomach flipped at the realization of how long you’d been here. “I should probably go” you murmured, but the words felt heavier than you expected.

Nika’s hand tightened slightly around yours and for a moment, she didn’t say anything. Then her gaze flickered back to yours, hesitant. “You don’t have to” she said softly.

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

She shifted her hand still holding yours, as she spoke. “I mean… stay. For the night. I don’t want you walking home this late and I’d feel better knowing you’re safe here with me.”

Her words were tentative as though she was testing the waters, but the sincerity in her tone left doubt.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude” you said softly, though your heart was racing at the thought of staying.

“You wouldn’t be, I promise” Nika assured you quickly. Her voice was calm but full of sincerity. “Really, Y/N. I’d like it if you stayed. No pressure just… if you’re comfortable.”

Her gaze searched yours and the vulnerability in her expression made your chest ache. She wasn’t pushing… she was simply offering, her intentions were clear.

After a moment you nodded. “Okay, yeah I’ll stay” you said softly.

Her smile widened and she let out a small, relieved breath. “Okay” she echoed.

She stood then, her hand slipping from yours as she moved toward the hallway. “I’ll grab you something to wear…something more comfortable than… well, this.” She gestured playfully at your current outfit and you couldn’t help but laugh.

A few minutes later, she handed you a soft, oversized sweatshirt…her sweatshirt…and a pair of shorts that looked equally cozy. “Bathroom’s just down the hall” she said, her tone light but her gaze lingering on you like she didn’t want to let you out of her sight.

When you stepped out of the bathroom wearing Nika’s clothes you felt both comfortable and giddy. The fabric was soft against your skin but it smelled distinctly like her…warm, clean, and subtly intoxicating.

Nika’s door was slightly open, you knocked lightly and peeked in she looked up from where she was sitting on the bed, scrolling on her phone. Her reaction was instant.

Her eyes widened slightly as they roamed over you taking in the sight of her clothes on your frame. A slow lopsided grin spread across her face, making your cheeks heat up. “Wow” she said softly setting her phone down.

“What?” you asked, shifting under her gaze.

She shook her head, her grin turning into a smirk as she leaned back on her hands. “You look hot” she admitted, her tone casual but her eyes saying something else entirely. “Really hot. Like, too hot for my old sweatshirt.”

You laughed nervously, tugging at the hem of the sweatshirt. “It’s comfy. And it smells like you.” The words escaped before you could stop them and your face burned.

Nika’s expression softened, her smirk turning into a tender smile. “That’s a good thing, right?” she asked her voice quieter now.

You nodded, your heart fluttering in your chest. “Yeah…It’s a really good.”

She stood, closing the small distance between you and leaning her shoulder against the doorframe her eyes never leaving yours. “You know” she said softly, a playful edge creeping into her voice. “I think I might need to make you your own collection of Nika approved loungewear. You’re making this look unfairly good.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide your smile. “Stopppp” you muttered, brushing past her into the room.

Nika giggled before her demeanor changed “So” she said hesitating slightly, her hands fidgeting. “The couch is all set up but… if you’d rather not sleep out there alone, you can… um…” Her voice trailed off her cheeks coloring faintly.

You blinked, your heart stuttering as you realized what she was suggesting. “Are you sure?”

She nodded quickly her smile a little nervous but genuine. “Yeah, I’m sure. I just thought…I mean, it’s totally up to you, but…” She exhaled softly, giving you a tentative look. “I’d like it if you stayed with me.”

Your chest tightened at her words and despite the nerves bubbling up inside you, you found yourself nodding. “Okay, I’ll stay with you.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

You slid under the covers, your heart pounding as Nika joined you, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. She turned to face you her expression shy and warmth. “You okay?” she asked softly, her voice low in the already quiet room.

You nodded though your breath hitched as her knee brushed against yours under the blanket. “Yeah, I’m perfect” you murmured.

For a moment neither of you said anything…then as if drawn by some force, Nika reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against yours.

Her touch was tentative, but you didn’t pull away…instead you shifted closer, your knees brushing again as your breath mingled in the small space between you.

“Y/N” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

Her eyes softened, and she gave you a small nervous smile. “Can I…”

Before she could finish, you nodded your heart racing as you leaned in just enough to close the space between you.

Her lips met yours gently at first, the kiss soft. But as your hand moved to rest against her cheek, she deepened it slightly her confidence growing as she tilted her head to capture your lips more fully.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against hers, both of you breathing softly in the quiet of the room.

“I’ve wanted to do that all night.” she admitted her voice so soft it sent a shiver down your spine.

You smiled your heart swelling as you looked into her eyes. “Me too, baby ” you whispered.

Her lips curved into a grin, and she let out a soft laugh her thumb brushing lightly over the back of your hand. “Guess we’ve got that out of the way now.” she teased gently.

You laughed softly feeling a warmth settle in your chest as you nestled closer to her, your head resting on her shoulder. As her arm wrapped around you, pulling you close and you allowed yourself to breathe her in… the steady rise and fall of her chest grounding you.

In the quiet of the room with Nika’s heartbeat against your ear, you smiled to yourself. Feeling giddy and impossibly lucky, if someone had told you that putting on a shirt with Mühl printed across the back would end with you in her arms, you wouldn’t have believed it.

[arleniansdoodles]

Guess who watched Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes?? Yep, I saw it, and now I can't get these two out of my head lmaoo

As much as I love Caesar and his story, I always imagined a dynamic like Noa and Mae's in the back of my mind. Not necessarily an enemies-to-friends or whatever their endgame is in this new trilogy, but now that I've seen them on the big screen, I'm super excited to see how their relationship plays out!

Before anybody asks, I personally don't ship them; I'm more of a "deeply platonic relationship" kind of gal loll But I can definitely see the vibes! XD Tbh, I really wanted to see them hug in the movie - it's the one thing I imagined after seeing the trailers ... But I don't mind the slow burn either, so I've settled for drawing it instead hahaa

Also, this is my first time attempting to draw apes. It was very hard, but I'll get better at it eventually! T_T

[moonlitchimes]

Today - Ronin x G.N Chronically Ill Reader

First time writing for this fandom as well as fanfiction itself in over a decade so please excuse any grammatical errors, oocness, etc dhsdhh. Might come back to revise it later, hope you enjoy it nonetheless!!

Reader has an unspecified chronic illness and is experiencing flare-up symptoms in this, I tried to be as vague as possible to leave their diagnosis up to interpretation.

word count | 1133 no warnings for this one <3

Today you wake up cold.

Which is, by all accounts, a bit odd. Soft sunlight filters through the curtains, sleepily draping over your form and that of the strong frame curled around you. You should feel warm, but you don’t. Instead, it feels as if you’re standing outside in a winter storm—drenched in icy rain—and not wrapped in the arms of your furnace of a boyfriend. You drift for a while, taking a minute—or perhaps several—to bask in the rare calm that has settled as the sun begins its slow crawl over the horizon. 

However, the biting chill festering in your bones only becomes harder and harder to ignore. And as consciousness eventually creeps upon you once more, you become aware of a dull ache in the small of your back. 

That’s where it begins, anyway—it always does—before slinking its way up your spine and stretching itself languidly across your shoulders like an overzealous cat. It takes its time digging its claws into your skin, sharpening the ache into a searing that tears into your veins and blights your blood until all your body knows is pain and nothing else. 

You screw your eyes shut, doing your best to ground yourself: rough hands curled firm but careful around your waist, warm breath puffing against the crook of your neck, soft hair tickling your cheek. Some days, the easy repetition is enough to help you focus—to function with the pain. To ignore it—as much as it can be ignored—until you can stumble into some form of normalcy. 

Today is not one of those days. 

The torment that has been simmering throughout your body finally comes to a boil. A pitched keen escapes from your parted lips before you can stop it, and you stiffen as you feel Ronin stir from behind—no doubt roused by the sounds of your suffering. You bite down so hard on your lip to trap any more whines that you taste the sharp tang of copper on your tongue, another wave of agony wracking your hunched form. Wordlessly, you pray to whatever higher being that may be listening that he settles. 

No such luck.

“Darlin’,” mumbled against your shoulder, still rough with sleep. “Way too early t’be up an’ about, y’know.” 

His words are met with tense silence, the only sign of acknowledgment from you being a slight twitch in your taut frame. 

Ronin’s brows draw together, the teasing edge fading—if only slightly—into cautious concern. “Baby?” he tries again, more alert this time. “Look at me.” Firm—not a request, no matter how undemanding it sounds. 

You’re terse when you finally gather the strength to choke out a response. “It’s nothing, Ro.” A beat—your tone shifts into something more casual, an attempt at nonchalance. “Did I wake you?”

“It’s something, darlin’.” He’s always been able to see right through you. He exhales softly, shifting until he’s propped up on his elbows before repeating, “Look at me.” 

When you finally face Ronin and see his dark, knowing eyes—always so perceptive, always seeming to know you better than you even know yourself—you’re unable to hold it in any longer. Your facade crumbles like withered bone, pain etched clearly across your face.

Whatever composure you had been feigning, you are still only human—still unable to ignore your own suffering, no matter how hard you try.

It felt ridiculous, in a way.

All these years, you had walked this same road alone, time and time again. Never had you had someone to lean on; never had anyone—beyond some choice doctors—bothered to truly concern themselves with your condition. You had long since grown used to this—to saving yourself. 

The support of another had always been something foreign to you—a nice dream, but still a dream all the same. Back then, it hadn’t mattered that no one cared for you (but you had wanted it—god, how you had wanted it). You had come this far on your own, so why bother changing that now? Today you will smile—biting your tongue. You will grit your teeth and bear through the pain. There is no need to cry like some sort of child, to weep about how badly it hurts. You can get through this on your own. 

Alone. Always alone—

You’re shaken from your thoughts by a sudden brush against your cheek, eyes snapping open to meet dark ones—like a void, like oblivion. 

“You’re not alone,” he murmurs, catching a stray tear on his thumb from where it rests against your cheek—and oh, when did you start crying?—”So get out of that head of yours, ‘fore it swallows you whole.” 

He didn’t wait for you to answer, leaning back with all the self-assurance of a predator, his eyes as sharp as blades. “Shoulda woken me,” he drawls—low and smooth as sin—as he watches you. “You don’t gotta suffer in silence like some damn martyr, not with me.” 

He doesn’t touch you—not wanting to cause you any more pain—but he stays close, waiting with all the patience of a darker saint. 

Something in you comes loose at the sight, your breath shuddering as you acquiesce, “I’m sorry—” But he doesn’t let you finish, huffing in fond exasperation as he inclines his head. “Not wantin’ an apology, darlin’, just let me take care of ya.” 

Because that’s what he always does, isn't it? 

Ronin—who, despite all his threats and talk, had seen you, a no-name writer in need of inspiration, and become your muse.

Ronin—who had placed a knife into your hands, lips against your ear, who had given you a choice of how you wanted your shared story to end.

Ronin—who had kissed you in a blood-soaked alleyway with a wolfish smile, like he had known what you would choose all along.

Ronin—who had barged into your life with a wild grin and bloodstained teeth—planted himself firmly by your side and refused to leave, like he belonged there. Like you belonged to him.

(He did, you did.)

Ronin—who knows you better than anyone else, who has slasher movie marathons with you just to have an excuse to hold you close, who stayed up all night researching your condition when he found out just so he could take better care of you.  

Ronin who loves you.

“You don’t have to.” 

“Wasn’t askin’ for permission, sweetheart.” His voice is quieter now—not quite soft, because what part of Ronin is?—but gentle. Warm, despite the teasing edge. “‘Sides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” 

For once, you don’t meet his banter with your own.

“I love you, Ro.”

A pause—his eyes soften. A small breath. His voice dips into something more genuine, more real. “Yeah. I love you too, darlin’.”

Tomorrow, you hope to wake up warm. But if you don’t, Ronin will be there.

And maybe that’s enough.

[hunnysahara]

˗ˏˋ 𝒲𝒽𝓎’𝒹 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒪𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒞𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑀𝑒 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒴𝑜𝓊’𝓇𝑒 𝐻𝒾𝑔𝒽? ˎˊ˗

Hamzah x fem!reader

It's harder and harder to get you to listen, more I get through the gears. Incapable of making alright decisions and having bad ideas.

Premise: Your ex friends with benefits calls you in the middle of the night and you know before you answer why he’s ringing you.

CW: cannabis usage / suggestive / crude + sexual language

WC: 2.6k

The soft glow of your phone screen fractures the darkness like a sliver of unwelcome light, casting long shadows across the room. It's the dead of night when the world holds its breath in a hush, yet here you are, wide-eyed, heart knocking gently against your ribs. You had been unpleasantly woken from your sleep by the sound of your phone vibrating itself off your bedside table.

Hamzah's name lingers on your screen. The messages spill one after another, frantic and garbled, like a stream you can't dam—misspelled words, scattered thoughts like he had thrown scrabble tiles together to form texts.

You aren't even able to fully read one message before it's replaced with another. You throw your phone down beside you on your bed, running your hands down your face and grumbling. It had been months since you heard from Hamzah.

The two of you had a very casual friend-with-benefits relationship though you took the initiative to end it when there was a landslide shift and the unceremonious hookups turned into mumbled confessions against your neck. It was too intimate, it breached the contract the two of you initially agreed on.

Though here he was, blowing up your phone like he would die without another word from you.

The phone buzzes again, his caller ID taking over the screen of your phone. You groan, your thumb hovering over the screen, debating whether to answer just to tell him to stop, to leave you alone. Maybe then, maybe if you hear the slur in his voice, the edge of something broken and far away, he'll finally understand that you're not his to call anymore.

The phone lights up again, and this time, you answer.

"Hamzah, stop."

"I knew you'd pick up," His words are thick like velvet, his voice groggy and coarse.

"Why are you calling me?" You ask, voice sharp like a bullet through skin.

"I just wanna hear your voice," On the other end, you can practically hear the smile in his voice. The way the words drowsily fall from his lips brings you to one conclusion.

"You're high?"

"Perchance," He takes a sharp inhale. After a moment of virtual silence, he giggles and coughs eventually settling down "Fine, you caught me. I'm very high."

"What do you want?"

"Why are you being so mean? I just wanted to say hi," There's a hint of playfulness in his voice and you can imagine him sprawled out in bed, hair a mess and glassy eyes half drawn.

Your head throbs as he jumps from one half-finished thought to another, rambling through memories like they're fresh scabs he needs to pick at, unravelling every thread you've tried so hard to tie up neatly. "Maybe I'm being mean because you called me at three AM."

"Yeah, that's kinda annoying," He laughs to himself. His voice filters through the phone, slick with an edge of playfulness that sends a ripple of irritation through you. "It's been too long since I've seen you," Hamzah says, drawing out the word in a lazy, teasing way that always used to make you laugh. But tonight, it feels grating like sand paper against your skull.

"Not long enough." You press the phone tighter to your ear, walking barefoot across the cold floor to the kitchen. The hardwood creaks under your steps, and the cool air feels sharp against your skin.

"Oh, how you hurt me," He adds a tinge of melodrama to his sarcasm.

"Hamzah," you sigh, but he barely gives you a second to speak.

"Did I wake you up?" He pauses to take a breath and you can hear the blunt crackling, and paper shuffling in the background.

"Yeah, you did."

"My bad, my bad-" He coughs again "What are you wearing? Is it that Grateful Dead shirt that hangs off your shoulder?"

You look down at your pyjamas, you were in fact wearing the Grateful Dead that hung off your shoulder and draped past your hips. "No." You lie through your teeth.

"Damn," He mutters before his brain hooks on another ramble "Remember that time—God, you were wearing that little white sundress, you remember?—and we went to that park with the swings? You kept pretending you were too good to be on a swing, but you ended up laughing like a kid when I pushed you too high."

You roll your eyes, frustration simmering beneath the surface. His tone is light, and flirtatious, like he's trying to conjure up a nostalgia that never quite sat right with you. The kitchen light flickers to life as you reach for a glass, the soft hum of the fridge barely audible over his rambling.

"Hamzah," you cut in, more firmly this time, holding the phone between your ear and shoulder as you twist the tap open. The sound of water hitting the glass is oddly soothing, something real and grounded amidst the chaos of his voice. "You're not making any sense."

"No, I think I'm making sense. You just don't wanna admit it." There's a slurred chuckle on the other end. "Come on, don't be like that. I know you're smiling right now. You miss this."

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and it makes your skin crawl. You take a sip of water, trying to quench the heat building in your chest. He always does this—twisting every conversation into something flirtatious, something playful.

"I'm not smiling, I’m frowning if anything," you reply flatly, setting the glass down with a little more force than necessary. "And you really need to stop calling me in the middle of the night. This isn't funny."

"But it's not the same during the day," he says with a laugh that feels too close, too familiar. "Night's that thing in that one song- made for saying things you can't say another day," He paraphrases poorly. His voice lowers, taking on that soft, honeyed tone he used to use when he wanted to get his way. 

Your jaw tightens as you lean against the counter, fingers tapping impatiently against the cold surface. He's pushing, and it's infuriating how easily he slips back into this—this game of his, like he can flirt his way out of the chaos he's caused.

"Hamzah, I don't have time for this. You're high. Again."

"And you're still talking to me, aren't you?" he teases, his voice laced with a kind of smug satisfaction. "You didn't have to answer. Y'know there's this magical button on your phone that makes it so I can't message you? I think that you want to talk to me."

The audacity in his tone sends a spark of anger through you, your fingers curling around the edge of the counter. He always knows how to toe the line, to keep you teetering between frustration and the pull of something that's sweet on your tongue but now feels like quicksand.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. "Hamzah, I'm not doing this. You need to hang up and sleep this off."

There's a pause, and for a second, you think he's going to listen. But then he chuckles softly, voice dripping with mischief.

"You're so hot when you're mad at me."

You nearly groan aloud, the exhaustion catching up with you in waves. This is pointless. You've been here before, hearing the same lines, feeling the same tired tug of emotions you've long since buried. But there's a part of you—a small, quiet part—that almost misses this, misses the ease with which he used to reel you in. And that's what makes it worse.

"Hamzah," you start, your voice sharper now, "go to sleep. Seriously."

"What if I told you that I really missed you?" He adds like it sweetens the deal. 

"I would tell you that I don't care."

"When did you turn so cold on me?" 

You pause, the phone still pressed against your ear. "Hamzah," you mutter, exasperation thick in your voice. The glass of water in your hand feels heavy, like a tether pulling you back into his orbit, even as you stand there in the dim kitchen, staring out at the quiet darkness outside the window.

"Just hear me out," he says, voice too smooth for someone who's supposed to be slurring. "I think me and you should do something together."

You don't answer, your hand moving on autopilot as you rinse the glass and set it down in the sink. There was always a certain ease between you and Hamzah, but that was before it got complicated, before the lines blurred. You clench your jaw, stepping away from the kitchen and into the hall, eyes scanning the house for some chore to distract you, to keep your mind from wandering back to those nights.

"Come on," he continues, undeterred. "I know you heard me."

You sigh, frustration buzzing beneath your skin, but your feet carry you to the living room where a few stray magazines and an old blanket still sit crumpled on the couch. Might as well tidy up while he babbles. Maybe if you let him talk himself out, he'll fall asleep or something. You grab the blanket, folding it with quick, jerky movements as he keeps talking.

"Can I come over?" He asks abruptly.

"No?" You furrow your eyebrows "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Damn, I really thought that would work."

As you sit down at the kitchen table, leaning your head into your hand, you notice the faint hum of traffic coming through the phone—tires on wet pavement, the distant growl of an engine passing by. Your brow furrows and a flicker of concern sparks through your irritation.

"Where are you, Hamzah?" you ask, voice sharper than you intended. It's late, and the sound of traffic at this hour doesn't fit into the picture of him sprawled out in bed, half-asleep and rambling, like you'd assumed.

"Why do you want to know?"

"So you don't show up at my house."

He chuckles to himself "Why on earth would I do that?"

"Maybe because you're obsessed with me?"

"I'm not- no, yeah. I am obsessed with you." There it was, the confidence that he so lacked when he was sober. With the help of cannabis, his tongue was as loose as his morals.

You press your lips together, gaze flicking toward the window, though the night outside your house is still and quiet, completely unlike the soundscape on the other end of the line. You disregard his admission "So, where are you?"

"I'm... walking. Clearing my head or whatever."

Your chest tightens, frustration mixing with a flicker of something you wish wasn't there—worry. "Walking where?" you press, though part of you already knows he's not going to give you a straight answer.

"Just around. Nowhere dangerous, alright? You don't have to freak out." He tries to sound nonchalant, but there's an edge to his voice that betrays him. 

"Hamzah, you shouldn't be out right now. It's late, and you're—" You pause, choosing your words carefully. "You're not in the best headspace to be wandering around." You're caught between the urge to scream at him or call Martin to pick him up and haul him home.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine," he cuts in, that cocky smile returning to his voice. "I'm always fine, babe. You worry too much."

You want to hang up, to cut the thread between you and the mess that is Hamzah, but the thought of him alone, on some random street at this hour, makes it hard to press the button. "Go home," you say softly, barely above a whisper.

"Stay on the phone with me a little longer, alright? I'm almost home anyway," Hamzah pleads, voice taking on that boyish, playful tone you've heard too many times.

You rub your temples, eyes drifting toward the clock on the wall. It's well into the night, and here you are, listening to him stumble through whatever story he's trying to spin. "You always say that," you mutter. "But somehow, you're always ten minutes from home."

"Hey, it's not my fault time slows down when I'm talking to you," he says with a sly grin you can practically hear. "Like, relativity or something. I saw that in the Spider-Verse movie."

You roll your eyes, walking back toward the kitchen to grab another glass of water, your mouth feeling particularly dry. "You would know."

"Didn't we see that together when it came out?" He asks to no answer. "We should watch it again."

"I don't think so," You lean against the counter, cradling your glass as his words wash over you.

"I want to see you, I like the way you laugh," He humbles "That's why I was such a goof around you. I didn't mind embarrassing myself because it made you smile and god- that smile..."

 "I don't really care what you want."

Hamzah lets out a low whistle "And yet, here you are," he shoots back quickly. "Still on the phone. Ah- I got you there."

You lean back against the counter, the weight of his words sinking in. He's right, of course. You're still here, still wrapped up in this bizarre late-night conversation, still listening as he spirals through his endless stream of nonsense. There's an odd comfort in the banter, as much as you hate yourself for it, there's safety in the familiarity.

"Yeah, yeah," you say finally, shaking your head. "You know how to run your mouth. That's about the only thing you're good at."

"Hey, don't forget I'm a man of many talents," Hamzah quips, the humour softening just a little. "And one of them is keeping you on the line way longer than you should be."

"Trust me, I'm very aware," you mutter, though there's a strange warmth behind your words now.

"Yeah, but you still picked up," he says, almost gently this time, his voice losing some of that playful edge. "That's gotta mean something, right?"

"I wouldn't bet on it."

"Do you miss me? Like at all?" He asks, the words falling from his lips with ease "You can be honest." 

You roll your eyes, though there's a slight warmth blooming in your chest despite your irritation. "Please, Hamzah," you deadpan, pacing slowly across the kitchen. "Do you ever stop?"

A knock sounds from your front door, sharp and unexpected. You freeze, turning toward the noise, the sound cutting through the warmth of your late-night banter like a cold breeze. Your heart skips a beat, the suddenness of the interruption making your stomach twist with an uneasy kind of tension. "Hang on," you mutter into the phone, already moving toward the door. "Someone's at my-"

You trail off, eyes narrowing as another knock echoes through the quiet house. Your pulse quickens, a strange feeling creeping up the back of your neck as you grip the phone a little tighter.

As you open the door, the cold air hits you first, followed by the sight of someone standing on your doorstep. Your breath catches for a moment when you see him. There, leaning casually against the doorframe with that signature lazy grin, is Hamzah.

"What the fuck," You draw out. 

"C'mon, don't be like that," Hamzah says, giving you a crooked grin. His phone is still pressed to his ear—well, it is until he lowers it slowly, that playful glint in his eyes growing even more mischievous as he hangs up, ending the call without a word. “So- are you gonna let me in?”