#does it take the responsibility off of me?

[derinwrites]

The Three Commandments

The thing about writing is this: you gotta start in medias res, to hook your readers with action immediately. But readers aren’t invested in people they know nothing about, so start with a framing scene that instead describes the characters and the stakes. But those scenes are boring, so cut straight to the action, after opening with a clever quip, but open in the style of the story, and try not to be too clever in the opener, it looks tacky. One shouldn’t use too many dialogue tags, it’s distracting; but you can use ‘said’ a lot, because ‘said’ is invisible, but don’t use ‘said’ too much because it’s boring and uninformative – make sure to vary your dialogue tags to be as descriptive as possible, except don’t do that because it’s distracting, and instead rely mostly on ‘said’ and only use others when you need them. But don’t use ‘said’ too often; you should avoid dialogue tags as much as you possibly can and indicate speakers through describing their reactions. But don’t do that, it’s distracting.

Having a viewpoint character describe themselves is amateurish, so avoid that. But also be sure to describe your viewpoint character so that the reader can picture them. And include a lot of introspection, so we can see their mindset, but don’t include too much introspection, because it’s boring and takes away from the action and really bogs down the story, but also remember to include plenty of introspection so your character doesn’t feel like a robot. And adverbs are great action descriptors; you should have a lot of them, but don’t use a lot of adverbs; they’re amateurish and bog down the story. And

The reason new writers are bombarded with so much outright contradictory writing advice is that these tips are conditional. It depends on your style, your genre, your audience, your level of skill, and what problems in your writing you’re trying to fix. Which is why, when I’m writing, I tend to focus on what I call my Three Commandments of Writing. These are the overall rules; before accepting any writing advice, I check whether it reinforces one of these rules or not. If not, I ditch it.

1: Thou Shalt Have Something To Say

What’s your book about?

I don’t mean, describe to me the plot. I mean, why should anybody read this? What’s its thesis? What’s its reason for existence, from the reader’s perspective? People write stories for all kinds of reasons, but things like ‘I just wanted to get it out of my head’ are meaningless from a reader perspective. The greatest piece of writing advice I ever received was you putting words on a page does not obligate anybody to read them. So why are the words there? What point are you trying to make?

The purpose of your story can vary wildly. Usually, you’ll be exploring some kind of thesis, especially if you write genre fiction. Curse Words, for example, is an exploration of self-perpetuating power structures and how aiming for short-term stability and safety can cause long-term problems, as well as the responsibilities of an agitator when seeking to do the necessary work of dismantling those power structures. Most of the things in Curse Words eventually fold back into exploring this question. Alternately, you might just have a really cool idea for a society or alien species or something and want to show it off (note: it can be VERY VERY HARD to carry a story on a ‘cool original concept’ by itself. You think your sky society where they fly above the clouds and have no rainfall and have to harvest water from the clouds below is a cool enough idea to carry a story: You’re almost certainly wrong. These cool concept stories work best when they are either very short, or working in conjunction with exploring a theme). You might be writing a mystery series where each story is a standalone mystery and the point is to present a puzzle and solve a fun mystery each book. Maybe you’re just here to make the reader laugh, and will throw in anything you can find that’ll act as framing for better jokes. In some genres, readers know exactly what they want and have gotten it a hundred times before and want that story again but with different character names – maybe you’re writing one of those. (These stories are popular in romance, pulp fantasy, some action genres, and rather a lot of types of fanfiction).

Whatever the main point of your story is, you should know it by the time you finish the first draft, because you simply cannot write the second draft if you don’t know what the point of the story is. (If you write web serials and are publishing the first draft, you’ll need to figure it out a lot faster.)

Once you know what the point of your story is, you can assess all writing decisions through this lens – does this help or hurt the point of my story?

2: Thou Shalt Respect Thy Reader’s Investment

Readers invest a lot in a story. Sometimes it’s money, if they bought your book, but even if your story is free, they invest time, attention, and emotional investment. The vast majority of your job is making that investment worth it. There are two factors to this – lowering the investment, and increasing the payoff. If you can lower your audience’s suspension of disbelief through consistent characterisation, realistic (for your genre – this may deviate from real realism) worldbuilding, and appropriately foreshadowing and forewarning any unexpected rules of your world. You can lower the amount of effort or attention your audience need to put into getting into your story by writing in a clear manner, using an entertaining tone, and relying on cultural touchpoints they understand already instead of pushing them in the deep end into a completely unfamiliar situation. The lower their initial investment, the easier it is to make the payoff worth it.

Two important notes here: one, not all audiences view investment in the same way. Your average reader views time as a major investment, but readers of long fiction (epic fantasies, web serials, et cetera) often view length as part of the payoff. Brandon Sanderson fans don’t grab his latest book and think “Uuuugh, why does it have to be so looong!” Similarly, some people like being thrown in the deep end and having to put a lot of work into figuring out what the fuck is going on with no onboarding. This is one of science fiction’s main tactics for forcibly immersing you in a future world. So the valuation of what counts as too much investment varies drastically between readers.

Two, it’s not always the best idea to minimise the necessary investment at all costs. Generally, engagement with art asks something of us, and that’s part of the appeal. Minimum-effort books do have their appeal and their place, in the same way that idle games or repetitive sitcoms have their appeal and their place, but the memorable stories, the ones that have staying power and provide real value, are the ones that ask something of the reader. If they’re not investing anything, they have no incentive to engage, and you’re just filling in time. This commandment does not exist to tell you to try to ask nothing of your audience – you should be asking something of your audience. It exists to tell you to respect that investment. Know what you’re asking of your audience, and make sure that the ask is less than the payoff.

The other way to respect the investment is of course to focus on a great payoff. Make those characters socially fascinating, make that sacrifice emotionally rending, make the answer to that mystery intellectually fulfilling. If you can make the investment worth it, they’ll enjoy your story. And if you consistently make their investment worth it, you build trust, and they’ll be willing to invest more next time, which means you can ask more of them and give them an even better payoff. Audience trust is a very precious currency and this is how you build it – be worth their time.

But how do you know what your audience does and doesn’t consider an onerous investment? And how do you know what kinds of payoff they’ll find rewarding? Easy – they self-sort. Part of your job is telling your audience what to expect from you as soon as you can, so that if it’s not for them, they’ll leave, and if it is, they’ll invest and appreciate the return. (“Oh but I want as many people reading my story as possible!” No, you don’t. If you want that, you can write paint-by-numbers common denominator mass appeal fic. What you want is the audience who will enjoy your story; everyone else is a waste of time, and is in fact, detrimental to your success, because if they don’t like your story then they’re likely to be bad marketing. You want these people to bounce off and leave before you disappoint them. Don’t try to trick them into staying around.) Your audience should know, very early on, what kind of an experience they’re in for, what the tone will be, the genre and character(s) they’re going to follow, that sort of thing. The first couple of chapters of Time to Orbit: Unknown, for example, are a micro-example of the sorts of mysteries that Aspen will be dealing with for most of the book, as well as a sample of their character voice, the way they approach problems, and enough of their background, world and behaviour for the reader to decide if this sort of story is for them. We also start the story with some mildly graphic medical stuff, enough physics for the reader to determine the ‘hardness’ of the scifi, and about the level of physical risk that Aspen will be putting themselves at for most of the book. This is all important information for a reader to have.

If you are mindful of the investment your readers are making, mindful of the value of the payoff, and honest with them about both from the start so that they can decide whether the story is for them, you can respect their investment and make sure they have a good time.

3: Thou Shalt Not Make Thy World Less Interesting

This one’s really about payoff, but it’s important enough to be its own commandment. It relates primarily to twists, reveals, worldbuilding, and killing off storylines or characters. One mistake that I see new writers make all the time is that they tank the engagement of their story by introducing a cool fun twist that seems so awesome in the moment and then… is a major letdown, because the implications make the world less interesting.

“It was all a dream” twists often fall into this trap. Contrary to popular opinion, I think these twists can be done extremely well. I’ve seen them done extremely well. The vast majority of the time, they’re very bad. They’re bad because they take an interesting world and make it boring. The same is true of poorly thought out, shocking character deaths – when you kill a character, you kill their potential, and if they’re a character worth killing in a high impact way then this is always a huge sacrifice on your part. Is it worth it? Will it make the story more interesting? Similarly, if your bad guy is going to get up and gloat ‘Aha, your quest was all planned by me, I was working in the shadows to get you to acquire the Mystery Object since I could not! You have fallen into my trap! Now give me the Mystery Object!’, is this a more interesting story than if the protagonist’s journey had actually been their own unmanipulated adventure? It makes your bad guy look clever and can be a cool twist, but does it mean that all those times your protagonist escaped the bad guy’s men by the skin of his teeth, he was being allowed to escape? Are they retroactively less interesting now?

Whether these twists work or not will depend on how you’ve constructed the rest of your story. Do they make your world more or less interesting?

If you have the audience’s trust, it’s permissible to make your world temporarily less interesting. You can kill off the cool guy with the awesome plan, or make it so that the Chosen One wasn’t actually the Chosen One, or even have the main character wake up and find out it was all a dream, and let the reader marinate in disappointment for a little while before you pick it up again and turn things around so that actually, that twist does lead to a more interesting story! But you have to pick it up again. Don’t leave them with the version that’s less interesting than the story you tanked for the twist. The general slop of interest must trend upward, and your sacrifices need to all lead into the more interesting world. Otherwise, your readers will be disappointed, and their experience will be tainted.

Whenever I’m looking at a new piece of writing advice, I view it through these three rules. Is this plot still delivering on the book’s purpose, or have I gone off the rails somewhere and just stared writing random stuff? Does making this character ‘more relateable’ help or hinder that goal? Does this argument with the protagonists’ mother tell the reader anything or lead to any useful payoff; is it respectful of their time? Will starting in medias res give the audience an accurate view of the story and help them decide whether to invest? Does this big twist that challenges all the assumptions we’ve made so far imply a world that is more or less interesting than the world previously implied?

Hopefully these can help you, too.

[vbecker10]

Coffee Coffee Coffee

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: Your over protective boyfriend, Loki, finds out you haven't eaten anything today and he's not happy about it but in your defense, you did have coffee.

A/N: I didn't even have coffee today so it's weird that this is in my brain lol... enjoy 💚

A series of knocks pulls your attention from the email you are typing and you check the clock in the corner of the screen. There's only one person who could be looking for you this late, the rest of your team went home a little over an hour ago.

You rub your eyes and get up from your desk, "Come in, Loki."

The door opens and the God of Mischief enters, "Hello darling." He meets you in the middle of your office and pulls you into a tight hug.

You reach up and kiss his lips lightly, pulling away much too soon for Loki's liking. He smirks, "Well now that won't do."

"No?" you ask with a smile.

He shakes his head no. You reach up again and as he leans to me you, you change direction slightly so you kiss his cheek. A giggle escapes you as Loki's hands move down to your hips and he pulls you flush against his body. His left hand raises to your cheek and he tilts your head up gently, then he presses his lips firmly to yours. His hand grips your hip tighter and you give into his kiss.

"I'm still working," you tell him breathlessly when your lips finally leave his.

"You work too hard," he tells you as he lets go of you.

He walks towards one of the empty chairs facing you desk and takes a seat. You move past him to sit behind you desk but he gently catches your wrist. Pulling lightly, he brings you towards him and lifts you onto his lap so you are facing him.

"I missed you today," he tells you in a low voice, his hands settle on your lower back.

"I missed you too, I'm sorry I had to cancel our lunch. Today has been awful," you wave towards your desk which is stacked high with files.

"Will you be much longer?" he asks, tucking a piece of hair behind you ear.

You shrug, "Hopefully only another hour. I just need to finish-". Your stomach rumbles, cutting into your sentence and you cringe when you can see in his eyes that he heard it.

"Did you eat anything today?" he asks in response to the sound.

"I had coffee," you answer quickly and immediately know that was the wrong answer.

His fingers drum rhythmically on your hip and he asks, "Did you at least drink any water?"

"Yea a little," you nod but he raises his eyebrow skeptically. "I mean, there's water in coffee."

He groans, his hand raising to cover his eyes. You hold back a giggle, knowing it won't help your situation. "Why are you like this?" he asks in a half joking tone.

You smile wide and shrug, "I like coffee."

"I can see that darling," he says, shaking his head lightly to hide a smile. "Dare I ask how many cups you've had today?"

You pretend to think for a moment then begin to count on your fingers, "One, two, three, four, five-"

"Y/N," he stops you.

"Only two," you answer.

"Are you sure?" he asks in a tone that means he clearly does not believe you.

You look away from his gaze but he touches your chin and guides your eyes back to his. "Four... but they were hours apart," you tell him honestly.

He shakes his head, "Love, you can't survive on coffee alone."

"That's literally how I made it through college," you inform him and cross your arms against your chest.

Without another word, he lifts you off his lap and sets you down so he can get up. "What-" you start to ask but he takes your hand and begins to move towards the door. "Where are we going? I still have work to do," you tell him.

"We're going to get dinner," he says as he opens the door.

You suddenly realize how hungry you are and follow him out into the hallway. "Ooh, can we get dessert too?" you ask with a smile.

He nods, "Of course, darling."

"And coffee?" you ask half joking.

"I think you've had enough coffee for the week," he answers as he pushes the button for the elevator.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚

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#tom hiddleston #hiddlestoners #loki #tom hiddleston characters #loki laufeyson #twhiddleston #hiddlesarmy #loki x reader #loki odinson #hiddlesverse #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki fandom #loki of asgard #loki oneshot #agents of shield #loki avengers #the avengers #loki au #loki imagine #loki romance #loki x female reader #loki x f!reader #avengers loki #shield agents #loki marvel #loki mcu #coffee

[frannyzooey]

Down the Hall

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Tags: Explicit, age gap because you know what I'm about (Frankie is your mom’s boyfriend, he is in his 40s, you are in your mid-20s)

A/N: Yea….so this is dedicated to @intheorangebedroom who inspired this entire idea and to @whatsnewalycat whose beautiful brain and writing inspired me as well. Thank you to @astroboots for cheering me on, to @bageldaddy for the super in depth beta and to @the-ginger-hedge-witch who soothed by "does this hit" worries — your minds are golden and I am so happy you support this utter filth. Ily ❤️

He thought that dating someone his own age would ground him, steady him. Not that he ever paid much attention to the age of the women he dated, but he thought with someone who had their own shit figured out, he might be inspired to do the same. 

Unmoored and unattached since he joined the army in his twenties, he was pushing forty now and craved some kind of routine. Living alone gave him too much time for thinking, too many hours spent inside his own head. He knew that living like that for too long could lead to bad decisions and thought he might hold himself to a higher standard when he saw how they held themselves to one. 

He met her at a bar – the most cliche of meeting places, but for good reason. She was out with friends after work and from the start, he was attracted to the way she smiled with her whole mouth. Everything about her seemed sensuous and fun, so inviting that he found himself drawn in and when he asked if he could take the seat next to her, he matched her smile with one of his own. 

When she invited him home that night, he buried himself deep while feasting on that generous mouth. 

He stayed that night, and then one night became twice a week, became three – and before he knew it, his lease was up on his apartment and he moved in. It was nice to come home to someone after work. To know that someone was there, wondering how his day went. To have a warm body curled up next to him in bed. 

She was so independent, so driven. A corporate job that required her to dress in slippery blouses and pretty skirts with heels; the same he loved to strip from her when she came home all stressed out the way she did sometimes. And she had a kid – a daughter – already in college somewhere on the east coast, but that didn’t bother him. Dating in his forties meant people already had their own histories, and he was no exception. 

Sometimes after she fell asleep and he had time alone to think, he still felt something that itched beneath his skin. Something that pulled at him from within, something that remained unsettled. He told himself that it was just an adjustment period after so many years of being unattached, and shoved those feelings deep down inside of him, determined to ignore them until he taught himself a new way to live. 

Her breathing deep and steady beside him, he told himself that she was good for him. 

That was what counted.

He was all for it when she told him her daughter was coming home to stay the summer between semesters. He liked the idea of having another person in the house – another distraction, another responsibility to take him out of his own head. 

He worked odd hours, and during his off days, Frankie took up the task of preparing her daughter’s old room. Light pink walls, a creamy bedspread dotted with delicate flowers: his mind supplied an automatic image of the little girl that lined the hallway in frames. He knew she was older than that now, but the way her mom talked about her, he couldn’t help imagining a little kid. 

Tasked with picking her up from the airport the day she arrived, he had just stepped out of the shower when he heard the doorbell. Frowning, he tugged a shirt over his damp curls, and opened the door.

Jesus Christ. Speechless, he stared at the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. 

“Sorry I didn’t call,” you apologized, tugging a heavy bag higher up on your shoulder. “I got in early and thought an Uber would be faster.”

He stood there for a moment, just staring, his mouth slightly parted in confusion. And then he saw it: the shape of your eyes, the curve of your lush mouth. The resemblance stamped across your delicate features.

“I couldn’t find my key.” You stood there, looking uneasy on your own doorstep. “You must be Frankie. Or is it Francisco? My mom said you’d be here. It’s nice to meet you.”

At the rounded sound of his full name coming from your mouth, his gaze snapped back to meet your eyes while you hung there, clearly waiting for him to say something. His body was slow to catch up with his brain, the little girl his mind supplied was gone, replaced by the vision that stood in front of him. Still young and fresh-faced, but grown nonetheless and so, so fucking beautiful. 

When you gestured towards the house behind him, he finally shook himself from the initial shock.

“Shit,” he apologized, stepping back out of your way. “Yea, it’s Frankie. Nice to meet you.” You gave him a half smile, and when you stepped inside, he reached for your bag. “Here, let me grab that.”

His hand dragging through his curls, he stood in the entryway and watched you make yourself at home: your shoes immediately kicked off on the doormat, your jacket hung neatly next to his own like it had always belonged there. 

“Do you know when my mom gets home?”

He cleared his throat, trying not to stare at the length of your legs underneath the hem of your shorts. “Uh, she said probably around six? That’s when she usually gets home.”

You nodded, holding your hand out for your bag and for a split second, he wondered if he should bring it upstairs for you. It would be the polite thing to do, but the idea of entering your room now felt like overstepping. You weren’t a kid, you didn’t need him like that. The boundaries had suddenly blurred and shifted, and he whisked away the image of you settling into your bedroom just as fast as it popped into his head. 

When you grabbed the bag from him, he felt relief. 

It was easy to avoid you for the afternoon while you got settled. Instead, he mowed the lawn, prepared dinner, all the while with his ears attuned to the sound of you walking around above him. He felt on edge, anxious. The excitement he thought he would feel with someone else in the house had turned into unease. 

He made himself an outsider, even more so when your mom came home. Not wanting to intrude on your time together, he stayed in the kitchen to cook dinner for the two of you and delivered it to the living room, placing your plates on the coffee table. 

“Thank you, baby, that’s so nice.” Your mother scooted forward, tilting her chin up towards him in a silent request for a kiss. 

Granting it to her, he felt her familiar hold slip around the back of his neck to keep him in place for a moment, keenly aware of the way you were right there. For a split second while his lips were still on hers, he glanced up at you and it was clear that he caught you watching by the way you hastily looked away the second he met your eyes. 

He fucked her hard that night, his hand over her mouth so you wouldn’t hear. 

She was gone in the morning when he made his way downstairs, and he was pleasantly surprised to find coffee already in the pot. 

“I made extra,” you said, from your perch on the chair at the table. Sleep shorts high on your thighs, an oversized tee shirt covering your top half. The way it engulfed you made you look younger than you were. 

He looked away, busying himself with pouring a cup. 

“I drink a lot, so I made a lot,” you explained with shy self-deprecation. 

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, sitting down at the table. “Got any plans for today? Or for the summer, I guess?” 

Wading the tentative waters of getting to know someone, he watched your fingers play with the edge of the paper. 

“Just relax for a bit, I think? Catch up with some old friends? No plan really. I just didn’t want to hang out on a deserted campus.”

He nodded. “Makes sense.” 

And so began the morning routine you would both share for the next few weeks. Hesitant and quiet around each other in the beginning, sliding into something normal fairly fast. Your mother was early to rise and early to bed, but he had never been and neither were you. 

He joined you in the late morning at the kitchen table, the curve of your soft cheek highlighted in the slant of light through the window. On the couch at night, a different kind of illumination from the light of the TV, yet hitting your cheek just the same. Your things scattered around the living room, your toothbrush next to his in the bathroom, your clothes mixed with his in the wash. 

Your proximity was what he blamed for the constant thoughts he had about you. 

Every morning he admired how rumpled you looked, how sleepy and soft and inviting. It was endearing, but soon other thoughts edged out the more innocent ones: thoughts about your legs wrapped around his waist, your slender fingers wrapped around something other than a coffee cup. 

The want he felt for you pooled in various places inside him: his brain, his chest, between his thighs. It spilled down the shower drain and spilled hot across his stomach. 

It flooded your mother’s mouth, and she was none the wiser.

Afterwards, she tucked her face into the meat of his shoulder, pressing a kiss against the skin there. Sated and content, she curled herself around him. “Let’s do something this weekend together. Actually make use of that pool we have for once.”

A barbecue. She’d been talking about having one for a while. 

“We’ve been working so hard. I feel like I barely even see you, honey.” 

Something akin to guilt tugged at him, thinking of the shifts he had been picking up in an effort to avoid you. Your eyes, your smile, your stupid sleep shorts.

He hummed his agreement and she kissed him in thanks, her breaths eventually evening out as she fell asleep. 

Frankie lay awake, the image of your closed bedroom door stuck in his mind. 

–

“Jesus Christ,” you murmured as you watched Frankie climb out of the pool. 

Broad, bare shoulders, tanned swathes of skin, cute little dimples just above his ass. Water ran down over his tanned skin, the thin material of his swim shorts stuck to his ass and when he turned around to grab a towel off a nearby chair, you were glad for your sunglasses.

Fuck me. 

The material of his shorts molded to every inch of his thick cock, the shape clearly outlined. Oblivious, he ran the towel over his curls, over his shoulders and arms, down his torso – and when his hand gingerly pulled the material away from his crotch, you memorized the swirl of dark hair that surrounded his navel and led down.  

“Can you help me with the grill, honey?”

Your mom’s voice pulled your attention away from him. 

Her boyfriend, you reminded yourself. Frankie was her boyfriend.

“Yea,” he called back, chucking his towel on the chair. “Be right there. Let me put a shirt on.”

The shirt he shrugged over his head was the same one you folded that morning. The material was threadbare and super soft, the muscles of his back shifting underneath the thin fabric as he sauntered over to the grill. You knew the way it felt in your hands, and at the thought of his body heat through the material, you pressed your thighs together. 

The afternoon sun bathed you in warmth, but it was nothing compared to the heat that pooled inside your bottoms as you continued to watch him from your recline by the pool. His brown curls glinted in the sun, his throat bobbing with a swallow when your mother brought him a beer. 

When his eyes flashed over to you, you finally looked away. 

You saw those deep, doleful brown eyes in your sleep. 

You felt them on you all the time: in the dark living room during family movie time, your mother curled up against his side. In the kitchen after dinner, when you loaded the dishwasher while he put away the food. In the mornings, when you pretended to read the paper while he snuck hooded peeks at you and drank you in. 

Startled by his handsomeness from the very first time you laid eyes on him, your crush only grew with every passing day spent in his company. He was so thoughtful, so attentive and kind, but it was something else buried within his gaze that drew you in. 

A barely restrained want that shone clear on his face every time he looked at you. A need simmering under the surface, you saw the way he fought it. 

You thought about him constantly: imagined him crowding you against the counter in the kitchen, saw him pulling back the shower curtain to join you, pretended your fingers were his in your bed at night. 

Born out of your own need, you pushed him. Played with the limits of his self control, desperate for him to make a move. No action overt enough to be blatant, the way he stared at you made you feel confident, bold. The want pouring off his skin when you hung around him was obvious and thick, filling the space between the two of you until he inevitably excused himself. 

When it’s time to eat, you take a seat next to him on the bench, your thigh pressed hot against his. You waited for him to pull away, but he never did and the intimate sensation of the hair on his leg brushing against your own smoother skin made it hard to eat, though you missed it when he got up. 

Your mother, one margarita too many and giggly and loose, pulled him into a dance under the stars that had just begun to come out. He humored her, wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her close, smiling at every murmured secret she slipped into his ear. 

You watched the scene unfold right in front of you with a fond, humoring expression, and his eyes kept finding yours, flashing in the darkness. 

You pretended nonchalance, but the entire time, you wanted. 

He took her to bed while you cleaned up the kitchen. 

You knew he fucked her – you heard it sometimes. They tried to be quiet for your sake but sometimes a whimper would slip down the hall, the deep reverberation of a groan in the dark. 

Climbing into bed that night, your mind lingered on the image of his wet swim trunks. The dark swirl of hair, the heft in the outline. 

You wondered what he fucked like with a cock like that. 

–

“Something’s going on in the Arizona market,” your mom explained, tossing items into her suitcase. A silk blouse spilled over the side, and you tucked it back in with the rest. “I’ll be gone through Thursday, maybe Friday? Hopefully not the weekend, but I’ll let you know.”

“Do you need a ride to the airport?” 

Smiling at you, she stepped forward and cupped your cheek with her hand for a moment. “That’s sweet, honey, but I’m good. Frankie’s got it.”

Apprehension swirled with anticipation, the joint feelings settled low in your gut. You’d been alone with him before, but never for this long. Never truly alone, for days on end. 

The man himself poked his head around the corner of the doorway, the width of his shoulders filling out the frame. He glanced at you, and then his watch. “You about ready, baby?” 

She bustled around the room, tossing things here and there onto the bed and he looked at you again, a slight frown pulling between his brows. 

His expression gave something akin to frustration, and for a split second, you thought it was because of the time your mom was taking. When you felt his dark eyes drop down the length of your body involuntarily and then back up again, you turned away with a small smile, knowing it to be something else. 

–

For the first couple days, he stayed away from the house as much as he could. Kept his distance until he ran out of errands, until he drove down the same stretch of road too many times. He didn’t trust himself to be alone with you, and he hated himself for it. 

Self loathing creeped in every time he thought about the way his jeans tightened even thinking of you alone in the house. His girlfriend’s fucking daughter, half his age. The whole thing was fucked up. 

And yet, he couldn’t stop. 

He felt bad, thinking of you suddenly being all alone after spending so much time with people around, but he told himself that you probably loved having the space to yourself. 

He came in the shower that morning to the thought of your mouth wrapped around the base of his cock, and he was unable to look you in the eye when he saw you in the kitchen afterward. Your hopeful expression lingered in his mind all day as he stretched out the hours. 

The sky turned from light blue to dark, and he finally caved. He couldn’t stay away forever. 

The house was quiet when he walked in, tossing his keys on the entryway table. He crept around, looking for any sign of your presence, until he heard the shower running upstairs. Light spilled down the staircase, and heading into the kitchen, he tried to push down the thoughts running rampant in his head. 

He drank a glass of water, listening. 

The shower turning off (your naked body, damp and warm), your footsteps padding down the hall (that smooth skin, hidden under your towel), your bedroom door shutting (the towel dropping onto your floor). 

He stayed downstairs, turning the TV on to distract himself, the air in the house charged with a magnetic pull from your room. He waited until there had been nothing but silence for the better part of a half hour, then dared to venture upstairs. 

He’d just say goodnight, that’s all. Just so you knew you weren’t alone. 

His knuckles rapped against your door, and he pushed it open when he heard you say come in. 

“Hey,” you greeted him, slight surprise on your face. Stretched out in bed, the inviting cloud of your comforter was plush underneath your body. You paused the movie you were watching, and sat up on your elbows. “Haven’t seen you in a couple days.”

“Yea,” he replied, leaning against the frame of your door. His eyes followed a slow path up your bare legs. 

“Work been crazy or something?” you asked.

“Something like that, yea,” he answered. His hand stayed on the knob of your door, an anchor that kept him from crossing a line. “I actually just stopped by to say goodnight. I’m gonna turn in.”

“Already?” you teased. “It’s pretty early, isn’t it? Aren’t you gonna live it up while my mom is gone?”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I’ve lived it up enough. I’m an old man, remember? We don’t do that kind of stuff.”

“Forty-five is hardly an old man,” you scolded with a smile. “You wanna watch a movie instead?”

You patted the bed next to you, and his face sobered. You didn’t see it, instead reaching for the lotion on your bedside table to work some into your hands and the image of you jerking his cock with that same lotion flashed across his mind. He frowned. 

“In here?” 

You shrugged, laying back down. “I mean, I’m already all set up in here…”

You left the offer hanging, and even though he knew - he fucking knew he shouldn’t - he found himself nodding. 

You looked surprised at his answer for a split second, and then pleased. 

“Let me go get changed.”

He walked down the hall towards his room, scolding himself the entire time. Don’t do this, don’t do this, don’t go back into that fucking room. Don’t think about how smooth her skin is and how much you want to kiss her.  Don’t think about how her sheets smell like her, don’t think about how much you want to lick her cunt. 

The thoughts ran on a loop as he peeled off his work clothes. 

They echoed in his head as he pulled on his sweats. 

They followed him out of his bedroom and all the way down the hall, stopping at your doorway.

You turned your head, looking at him expectantly, looking so fucking lush and innocent, so eager to have him join you. 

He swallowed hard, mouth watering and left his guilt in the hallway, joining you in bed.

–

Pretending to ignore the heavy blanket of tension pulsing between your bodies, you kept your eyes fixed on the screen. 

Stretched out next to you, he kept a respectable distance, but you felt the heat that poured off of his skin. He looked so large in your bed, so much like a man. His long limbs splayed out over your girlish comforter, his masculine scent filled the space and when he crossed his arms, you admired the way the hem of his sleeve stretched around his bicep. 

Lightheaded and trembling with a heady want that ached between your thighs, you made it through the whole movie – until the room descended into darkness, until the credits rolled and the screen went black  

Until it was just the two of you sitting side by side in the dark. 

The sheets rustled when you rolled onto your side to face him. 

“What did you think?” you asked quietly. 

He looked down at you from his slouch on the bed, and your fingers twitched with the need to smooth away the crease that rested permanently between his brows. You would think he was mad if not for his eyes: those always look conflicted more than anything. Constant turmoil, roiling deep within the dark depths. 

Not answering, he stared down at you for a long moment before shrugging. 

“Okay, I guess. Well, have a good night.”

He then started to slide off the bed. 

Disappointment flooded your chest, the tension that you’d been feeling for the last two hours releasing restlessly through your limbs. Already making plans to get your vibrator from your side table to use while burying your face into the sheets he was just sitting on, he stilled. 

Your eyes fixed on his broad back, you could almost see the decision being made and he quickly turned before he could convince himself to stop. 

Bending down, he kissed you. 

It was consuming. The brush of his mustache, the taste of his mouth, the weight of his solid body as he pushed you into the bedding, draping it over yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth to slide against your own, and he swallowed the soft sound that caught in the back of your throat. Pushing himself into the cradle between your thighs, he forced them open wider as he deepened the kiss, and his dry, calloused hand slid underneath the hem of your shirt, wrapping around your hip. 

You knew you should push him away, but your hands only dragged him closer, grabbing everything you could touch: the slip of his curls, the curve of his whiskered jaw, the rounds of his broad shoulders. You dug your fingertips into his sides as he ground his hips against yours and your knees hitched higher around his torso. 

His hand wrapped around the top of your shin, pushing down to hold you in place.  

“Jesus,” he breathed into your mouth between kisses, his fingers tightening in their hold before sliding down to touch everything he can: the meat of your hips, his big hand cupping your ass with a greedy squeeze. Need rolled off of him in waves, his touch betraying just how long he had thought about this and his mouth shifted down to devour the long line of your neck, tasting the sweet hollow of your throat. 

Your pulse beat fast under his tongue, speeding up when he let out a groan against the sensitive skin. 

“Take – take this off–” he sat back on his ankles, his hands fumbling with your shirt.

As soon as you pulled it over your head, his mouth latched onto your nipple. His tongue swirled around it, sliding over the peaked bud with a suck. His beard scraped across your sensitive skin, leaving a wet path that glistened over the plane of your chest as he dragged his mouth to your other breast and his heavy hand reached down to cup you wholly over your sleep shorts. 

His fingers dug into the dip of your entrance and the heel of his hand ground hard against your clit. 

“I can’t stop thinking about this pussy,” he confessed. His fingers rubbed harder, and he groaned hot against your skin. “I can already feel how soaked she is for me. How much she wants it.”

You nodded with a whimper, rolling your hips into his touch. “God yes. Please.”

He pulled back just enough to stare down at your face, his pitch black eyes sliding over your features to settle on your open mouth. “Tell me you want this. Tell me how much you want my cock.”

“Yes. Please, please,” you begged.

“It’s gonna be a lot, baby.” He wetted his bottom lip with his tongue, his hand working, working, working. “She’s gonna need to be wet to take what I need her to take.”

A fresh wave of arousal washed through you, and your sleep shorts clung to your center with every grind of his palm. His thick fingers nudged the fabric to the side, exploring. 

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, releasing a heavy breath. “Fuck.” 

His eyes fluttered shut with a frown as his touch slid through your soaked seam and kissing you again, he timed the slide of his tongue with the slick stretch of two fingers. 

Your thighs opened wider around his waist, a whine crawling out of your throat when he pushed them deeper and when he started a smooth, audible stroke, you started to ride his hand. 

You’d been watching his fingers for months: wrapped around the steering wheel in the car, loosely cradling the neck of a beer bottle, drumming against his thigh when he watched TV sometimes. You’d imagined them tucked inside you so many times, buried in your mouth or your cunt, and as he worked a third one in, you let out a filthy moan. 

“I gotta work it open, baby,” he soothed, pulling your earlobe between his lips. “It’ll be okay. I know you can take it.”

His hips started to follow the rhythmic roll of his hand and when he seemed satisfied with how much you could take, he slid his fingers out, reaching to tear his shirt off over his head. When he pushed his fingers into his mouth for a moment, his lips wrapping around his knuckles as he sucked your taste off the thick digits, his hooded eyes took in the way you scrambled to take your sleep shorts off. 

Following your lead, he dumped everything onto the floor beside your bed, and it felt like heaven when you felt his bare skin against the inside of your thighs. So broad, so firm and strong, his body pressed you into the mattress and you felt the hot, pulsing heft of his cock pushing against your cunt. You clenched at the teasing sensation of what was to come, and reached down to grasp him, but his hand caught yours and pushed it into the bedding above your head. 

“Let me do it. I wanna watch your face when I put it in,” he confessed, resting his weight on top of you as he reached down with his other hand to guide himself in. 

Sticky slick smeared between the both of you, and when the tip of his cock forced you to bloom around him, his eyes fixed on your face. Greedily, he devoured the sight of your mouth dropping open, a tiny tiny frown appearing between your brows and he thickened inside you, pushing forward.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “It’s so much.” So much more than you ever thought it would be, even with all the months spent imagining it. 

He bottomed out and the air froze in your lungs, your cunt stuffed fuller than it’s ever been. 

“Shhh,” he soothed, staying in place to let you adjust. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re so fucking tight, baby. So tight.”

Squirming underneath him, you hitched your knees higher around his torso and he rocked his hips to slide halfway out before grinding back in with a weighted push. He gave you a minute: a tense minute, a minute thick and full of wanting, a minute where all you could focus on was the stretch of his cock and the heated bulk of his body and the firmness of his chest pressed against yours. 

He brushed his lips against yours, and gently rolled his hips. 

“Do you know how much I’ve thought about this? About fucking you, in this bed?” His voice deep and breathless, it sounded overwhelmingly intimate breathed against your cheek. 

You shook your head. 

“I thought I was the only one,” you admitted. “I used to think – oh fuck – I used to think about you coming down the hallway in the night. Crawling into my bed and fucking me just like this. Just like I can hear you fuck her.”

“You listen to me fuck her?” His hips rocked forward a little faster, picking up pace. 

“I can’t help it,” you whined. “The sounds – the sounds you make. I wanted to make you make them. I wanted to be the reason.”

His fingers pushed through the hold of your own, locking your hands together above your head and he dug his knees into the bed for leverage. Your breasts shifted underneath him, bouncing lightly as he fucked into you harder and his eyes dropped down to watch. “You are, baby. You are. I think about you all the time.”

Building steadily underneath him, your head pushed back into the bedding and his mouth found your throat, his teeth scraping against the tender skin. His hips never stopping their filling grind, you pushed your fingers through his curls and when he bit down with a suck, a slurred yes slipped out of your outstretched throat. 

You imagined your mom seeing it, asking you if you went on a date with someone. 

His strokes got harder, harsher, his hips snapping against yours and digging your fingers into the soft globes of his ass, you forced him deeper. When you clenched around his thick length, he looked down at you, wrecked and desperate. 

“I wish I tasted you,” he groaned. “Next time, okay?”

You frantically nodded, unable to focus on anything but the bright, shining edge of your release. 

He could see it, feel it in the squeeze of your soaked cunt and his vision blurred around the edges, his own want building at the base of his spine. 

“You gonna come?”

You are. The sounds he’s making above you and the way he feels inside you and the scent and need rolling off his skin and those fucking pitch black eyes that have been in your dreams for months – 

Slick dripped down the curve of your ass, your hips locking up underneath him and when you came with a silent cry, he groaned deep and loud, fucking you right through it. 

“Tell me I can fucking come inside you. Say it,” he pleaded, fingers gripped on your chin to hold your gaze on his. His words punctuated by the snap of his hips, you nod your head. 

“Do it,” you whined.

Your fingers threaded through his curls, it’s the tug that you give that does it. Coming harder than he had in his fucking life, he filled your tight cunt with thick ropes of his spend. Endless, smeared over the shaft of his thick cock as he continued to pump into you because he couldn’t stop, slipping out to drip onto the delicate sheets below. 

“Christ,” he groaned, his jaw clenched as the veins in his neck strained above you, his hips stuttering. Slowing them into a languid roll against your own, his softening cock was still a thick, filling weight inside and when he looked down at you, you recognized the guilt that already flooded the brown depths. 

You stared right back, holding him tight. 

“Stay,” you murmured, holding him in place when he started to roll off of you. 

You wanted to remember this. The hot press of his skin against yours, tacky and slick with sweat. The warm gust of his breath over your lips, the rapid beat of his pulse under his flushed neck. The wild curls that stuck damply along his hairline, the brush of his fingers as he tenderly thumbed at the curve of your jaw. 

He swallowed and you could see the war in his eyes, something you recognized as being there from the start. His hand curled over the crown of your head, and you pressed a kiss to his throat. 

“You can’t –” he started, eyes fluttering shut at the press of your mouth. “You can’t tell your mom about this, okay. We can’t say anything.”

We. You reveled in the sound of the word, your head nodding underneath him. A secret to share. Something for the two of you alone. 

“I won’t,” you promised. “Just don’t leave, okay?”

You felt small and vulnerable asking, and when he looked down at you, a glimpse of the girl he imagined on that very first day tugged at his memory. Not the age he pictured of course, but the way you needed him. 

The way he wanted you to need him all along. 

His face nuzzled yours, his nose sliding across your cheek. A kiss pressed against the soft, youthful curve of your cheek that he had admired for months, he nodded with your sweet taste still lingering on his tongue. 

“I won’t, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales/you #frankie morales/reader

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch. 10

WandaNat x Reader

Word count: 3.4k

Ch.Notes: no notes this ch

Summary: Natasha and Wanda have a talk about their feelings for you. After that emotional conversation they meet you at the hospital to visit Dragos.

An: If I were to say things get more real next chapter how would you feel...

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

The rest of the work day drags for Natasha and Wanda. Both women having other things on their mind. However, with Kate and Y/n out of the office on a hectic day like this, they couldn’t afford to dwell too much.

“Sestra, can we call it a day? I've never taken this many calls in my life,” Pietro barges into his sisters office.

“If you want to go home, then go,” she waves her hand dismissively at him.

“What’s got you so snappy?”

When Wanda’s eyes meet Pietro she’s glaring at him, “If you haven’t noticed I’m trying to run the company our father built on my own.”

Pietro raises his brow, “On your own? Discrediting my work is normal for you, but to act as if Y/n wasn’t running this place last night is bullshit.”

“Well she’s not here now,” Wanda mumbles under her breath.

“Why? Where is she?”

Wanda can’t hide the small clench in her jaw, “Kate took her home. She wasn’t feeling well.”

“She’s in good hands sestra if that’s what's worrying you,” Pietro tries to console her.

Wanda doesn’t want to speak about it any further, “I’m going to see papa whenever I’m done with this do you want to come?”

The way that Pietro's goofy features turn serious never cease to amaze Wanda, “I can’t tonight, I have a date.”

Wanda rolls her eye, “You’d rather get laid than see our father?”

Pietro shakes his head, “No, but this isn’t just some girl. I want this to be serious and I can’t afford to stand her up.”

The red head is slightly surprised, but she nods along, “I’ll tell him about it, I bet he’d be glad to hear you taking something seriously for once.”

He chuckles a bit before going quiet. He looks at Wanda similar to the way a needy child looks at their parent.

“Do you think he’ll wake up?”

“He has too,” the words are heavy as they leave her lips. She has a small smile placed on her face as she continues, “Mama will kill him if he doesn't.”

“Don’t work too hard sestra,” he speaks sincerely taking his leave.

“Enjoy your date,” Wanda says as he walks out of the door.

When he leaves she lets out a heavy sigh. For the first time today she lays her head down on her desk, exhaustion starting to plague her.

Thoughts of her responsibilities as the person in charge rain down on her. This was the end goal that she wanted, but never at this great of cost. She wished her father would wake up and reclaim his place because she didn’t feel ready.

She was focusing as hard as she could, but her mind always strays to her brother’s best friend. Your delicate skin pressing against hers in the morning or the strong arms that wrapped around her waist, or those doe eyes that she could sense staring at her.

Wanda debates for a moment before pulling out her cell phone and dialing the girl. It rings for a while before there's finally an answer.

“Hello.”

“Hey, little krolik. I just wanted to check on you. Nat told me you went home today,” Wanda keeps her tone level.

You sigh on the other end of the line, “I’m ok. I think I just got a little overwhelmed. I’m sorry for stepping out, I know that's not how we do business.”

“It’s no different than me leaving yesterday. This line of work takes a toll on you.”

She can’t see it, but you nod, “I’m feeling better now. I still want to go see pa- Dragos. Maybe I could have Kate drop me off and I’ll meet you two there?”

“You’re with Kate?” Wanda can’t stop herself from asking the question.

“Yeah she took me home and decided to keep me company,” you say nonchalantly.

“I could’ve taken you,” Wanda tries to play it cool.

You disagree with her, “I didn't want to bother you while you were working. It was a hectic day, truth be told I didn't even want to leave.”

Wanda’s tone is strong as she speaks, “I will never be too busy for you Y/n.”

“Wanda-”

“I mean it. I know I’m supposed to move past it, but I missed a lot while I was gone. I couldn’t be there for you like I wanted to. Now that I’m back I’d like to be there for you as much as I can. I still want to be the one you lean on,” Wanda let herself be vulnerable with you.

You were taken aback by her admission. It felt like it was impossible for you to come up with a response. It wasn’t like she was saying something you hadn't heard from her before, but her words felt heavier somehow.

“I know you'll be there for me, Wanda . You don't have to prove it.”

Wanda frowns lightly, “I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m just- it’s hard knowing I’m not the first person you come to when you’re in need. I know you've grown out of needing people for the most part, but I don’t know. I’m not making any sense. Nat and I will meet you at the hospital.”

Wanda doesn't give you a chance to respond as she hangs up the phone. She scolds herself about how needy she sounded during the call.

“I think I’m finished up for today, whenever you’re ready to go,” Natasha strolls into the office.

Wanda stares at the computer screen for a moment, “I should be ready in half an hour.”

Natasha plops down on the couch of her wife’s office. It’s silent for a moment until Nat shifts on the couch which makes noise fill the office.

“So, do you want to talk about it?”

“ About what?” Wanda keeps her attention on the screen.

“What I said about being jealous of Kate?”

Wanda’s brow furrows, “Not particularly.”

Natasha strides over to the woman’s desk chair and places herself in Wanda’s lap. Wanda’s arms loop around the woman’s waist holding her in place.

“We need to talk about this moya lyubov,” the spy places gentle kisses on the base of Wanda’s neck.

The other woman whines, “Why?”

“Because we’re married and you’re in love with Y/n,” Natasha states plainly.

Wanda rolls her eyes, “You were jealous too.”

Natasha nods, “I was and I don’t have a problem admitting it.”

Wanda’s face buries itself in the crook of Natasha’s neck, “So what does this all mean?”

“I like her too,” Natasha states bluntly.

“ I don’t want to lose you,” Wanda’s voice is small as she speaks to her wife.

Natasha softly places her hand on Wanda’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet, “You will never lose me Wanda. I married you because I’m completely, utterly, madly in love with you. That feeling hasn’t gone anywhere.”

“I love you too,” Wanda’s eyes shine as they bore into Natasha’s.

“ I think we should think about what it would be like to add Y/n into our relationship dynamic,” Natasha speaks, but it sounds like a question.

Wanda tenses briefly, “I can admit that I have feelings for Y/n, but I don’t know if I can act on these feelings Nat.”

“Why not?”

Wanda closes her eyes, “I’ve known her too long, Nat. She’s the same age as my little brother, not to mention she's his best friend. If she doesn’t feel the same way, this will ruin everything.”

“Detka-”

“I don’t know if it’s better or worst that we both want her. How would we even tell her Natasha? I don’t want to lose anymore time with her,” Wanda begins to get emotional.

Natasha cups her wife’s face in both of her hands, “Baby, I know you’re scared. This is scary, I’ve never been in a situation like this, I don’t have all the answers. All I know is that you love her and I think I could too. We’ve spent so much of our lives sacrificing for others, but I’m ready to sacrifice something for my own sake, aren’t you?”

“I am, but not at the expense of my relationship Y/n. I just got her back, Natasha. I’m not saying I never want to tell her, but I can’t do this now,” Wanda tries to turn her head away from her wife.

Natasha doesn’t let her, but instead places a soft kiss on her wife’s lips. Wanda relaxes under Natasha’s touch, feeling all of the stress of the day seeping out of her body.

“ Don’t hide from me, Wanda. I want you to share your feelings, I won’t ever judge you,” Natasha whispers against the taller woman’s lips.

“I don’t want to disappoint you. I know you’re ready but-”

Natasha shakes her head, “It’s not just about me, it’s about us. I don’t want to push you to do anything you aren’t ready for. If you want to pursue Y/n, I’m with you, but if you don’t, I'm still with you.”

Wanda nods softly, “I want to, but I- I need time.”

Natasha kisses her again, “Whenever you’re ready baby. Now finish up so we can go.”

“You’re not going to move?” Wanda questions her wife.

Natasha lets out an exasperated sigh, “ You can’t work around me?”

Wanda scoots herself into the desk. She slightly pushes Natasha to press into her further. The spy’s head is in the nape of Wanda’s neck.

“I can and if I’m being honest it’s my preferred method of doing work,” Wanda begins to focus on the computer again.

She works diligently with her wife in her lap. Having Natasha there makes her work go by a little faster and feel a lot less stressful. She finishes up within the hour.

Once she’s done Wanda shoots a text to Y/n saying that they were headed to the hospital. The girl replies saying she’ll meet them there.

Natasha drives, one hand on the wheel and the other holds Wanda’s hand. Her thumb caresses the back of the passengers hand trying to provide comfort, knowing that this was not an easy task for her.

Wanda had only visited her father once. She hated seeing him in such a fragile state. It almost didn't feel like he was her father. He couldn’t be the same man that took her to the city fair, the same mam that placed flowers in her hair, the man that invested his entire life in her dreams, it couldn’t be. This wasn’t the man that kept her safe from her nightmares, because looking at him in this state was beginning to feel like one.

When they arrived they went inside the building.

“If you don’t tell me what room he is in you won't live to the end of the week to regret it,” you argue with the receptionist.

Kate’s behind you her hand resting on your shoulder trying to pull you out of the conflict.

“It’s family only mam, one more outburst and I will have security throw you out,” the receptionist said causing a vein to pop in your neck.

“Is there a problem here?” Natasha speaks up first.

“Nothing that concerns you,” the receptionist snaps at the spy.

You interrupt, “You don't talk to her like that.”

Before things escalate any further Wanda slams her hand on the receptionist’s desk with her card under her palm.

“Now tell me what room my father is in, “ Wanda’s eyes look fiery as she stared at the receptionist.

The receptionist looks at the card bestie her eyes go wide, “Terribly sorry for the mix up Mrs. Maximoff, didn’t know she was in your company.”

Wanda peers down at the receptionist, “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today. I don't ever want to hear you address either of these ladies in a disrespectful manner again.”

“Yes, Mrs. Maximoff sorry about that. It won’t happen again. He’s in room 286,” the receptionist looked ten sizes smaller.

You can’t help but give the woman a death glare as you head towards the elevator. Kate stops you on the way.

“I’m going to head home are you going to be alright?” Her eyes subtly glance in Wanda and Natasha’s direction.

“I’ll be fine Katie,” you reassure her.

“Ok just checking. Text me later and make sure you're taking care of yourself,” Kate pulls you into a tight hug.

The sound of someone clearing their throat ends your hug with the doe eyed girl. Kate smiles at you upon the release of the hug, she then waves goodbye, leaving you with the married couple.

“And you’re sure you and Kate aren’t dating?” Wanda can’t help, but comment.

You roll your eyes, “Positive, Katie and I are just friends.”

“What did you do after you left work ?”

You all pile into the elevator as you answer, “Nothing really. We just watched some tv and ordered some food. How was it at the office?”

Wanda goes to answer but Natasha stops her, “No work talk out of the office.”

“Well then what are we going to talk to Dragos about?” You attempt to joke in hopes of brightening the mood.

“ You can call him Papa you know?” Wanda takes her time looking at you.

“I know-”

She cuts you off, “Mama too.”

You nod to yourself, “I know, it’s just not my normal.”

Natasha speaks up, “It honestly feels like you’re fighting against their names when you say them. Mama and Papa sound natural coming from you."

“It feels like they are my parents.”

“They are,” Wanda grabs onto your hand as you approach Dragos’ room.

The air feels different when you enter the room. It’s hard to look at him in such a state. He lies still on the hospital bed with machinery hooked up to him. There are less machines than originally, but still too many in your eyes.

Flora sits by the side of the bed with her hand in his. The view is somber, it takes nearly everything in you not to cry. Almost as if she can sense the tension building in your body, Wanda squeezes your hand.

“How’s he been Mama?” Wanda’s moved closer to her mother’s side, dragging you with her.

“The same, but the doctors are saying that's a good thing for now at least,” she sighs heavily.

“And how are you Mama?” You ask looking over the woman’s features.

Flora sends you a small smile, “I’m tired sweetheart, but I’ll live.”

“Have you been going home?” Wanda questions further.

“To shower and change clothes.”

Wanda’s voice takes a stern tone, “Mama, you need to rest.”

The older woman shakes her head, “I can't leave him for too long.”

“He wouldn’t want you spending all your time here,” you say softly.

“It’s not about what he wants for once. If he didn’t want me here he would’ve listened when I told him going to meet Fisk alone was a bad idea,” she glares at her sleeping husband.

“I’ll have his head for this,” Wanda gets agitated at the mention of Kingpin.

“Blowing up the ports wasn’t enough?” Flora comments.

“Power move, just to prove that there are no cracks in our business affairs,” Wanda’s jaw sets.

Flora looks at her daughter, “He’s not going to take this lying down.”

“I know.”

You squeeze Wanda’s hand to reassure her, “ We’ll be ready for him."

Flora lets out a sad laughter, “You sound just like him Y/n.”

“ That’s a compliment for the ages. I hope I could be half of the person he is,” your gaze falls into your lap.

“You already are. You kids have always made us both so proud.”

You desperately want to ask more about Dragos’ condition, but you refrain. The conversation stays light as you reminisce about the man.

Natasha doesn't say much, but her presence does provide someone to share with. She's hearing most things about her father-in-law for the first time. She's getting a good look into the man he is.

She pays attention to the way you and Wanda both light up when sharing stories. It warms her heart to see the two of you looking genuinely happy for the first time in weeks.

When it’s time to go the mood drops a bit, but not too much. It’s when Natasha goes to follow Wanda and Y/n out of the room when Flora stops her.

“You make sure they're taking care of themselves,” Flora hugs the redhead and whispers in her ear.

Natasha nods, “I will Mrs.Maximoff.”

They head home after that, exhaustion finally catching up to them.

A small dilemma plagues your mind when you get home. Part of you wishes to go with Wanda and Natasha into their apartment where you know you can get a good night's rest. The other part of you tells you that you shouldn't make it a habit. It's a lose-lose situation.

Begrudgingly you decide to go to your own apartment.

“I’ll see you guys later,” you try and give a small goodbye.

Wanda grabs your forearm, “You can come over tonight, if you need to. No matter the time. Alright, little krolik?”

Your eyes shift over to Natasha who smile, showing agreement with her wife, “The door is always open for you.”

You struggle to keep your composure, “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.”

Your house feels extra empty as you enter. The weight of the day sets into your system. Getting ready for bed seems pointless as you know you won’t be getting any sleep.

Staring at the ceiling seems different, knowing that across the hall was the woman that you had spent your teen years pining over. Yet, knowing that she could love you didn’t make your heart flutter like it was supposed to. It sent an anxiety running through your chest.

You knew that she was probably curled up in the bed next to her wife. Her drop dead gorgeous, kind hearted, Russian spy, wife. A woman in a league of her own, in her own right.

The thought didn’t make you jealous, but it had an adverse effect on you. You wanted to be there, to be involved, to be a part of what they had.

You groan placing a pillow over your head in a dull effort to quiet your thoughts.

Your phone rings on the dresser and you pick it up, and mumble a hello with the pillow still over your head.

“Come over.”

“Natasha?”

There’s a hum over the line, “Yes, are you coming or do I need to come get you?”

You shuffle out of the bed, keeping the phone to your ear, “Is something wrong?”

“Well-"

She’s cut off by her wife, “Come to bed little krolik. I need the extra warmth.”

Natasha chuckles, “Wanda refuses to sleep in your absence. She’s getting a little grumpy.”

“ I’m not grumpy. Tell her to hurry,” Wanda argues with Natasha.

This makes your heart flutter like it’s supposed to, “Are you sure it’s ok Nat?”

“ Lisichka I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you back in our bed.”

You feel a blush take over your features as you exit your home.

“ Ok, open the door,” you murmur and it takes no time for the spy to let you into her home.

Natasha looks exhausted as she grabs you by the arm and drags you wordlessly to the bedroom.

Wanda’s already in the bed and when she sees you she does a grabbing motion towards you. You shake your head before climbing into the bed. She wraps her arm around your waist and snuggles closer to you.

“You sleep here now. It’s better for all of us,” She mumbles against your skin.

“Ok,” you don’t fight her on it, knowing she’d probably forget in the morning.

You look up at Natasha shyly. She still stands over the bed. In a similar fashion to Wanda, you stick out your arms for her.

Natasha grins as she climbs into your arms. You carefully drape your arm over the spy, resting your hand against her flat stomach.

For the second night in a row you find yourself comfortable in their bed. You all think about how you shouldn’t indulge in this feeling, scared it won’t last.

It’s like the couple can read your mind. Wanda’s hold on you tightens and Natasha turns to face you. They keep you safe in their embrace and the thoughts in your head quiet.

No one says anything, but you all feel it. There’s a shift in your relationship and you won’t be able to ignore it for much longer.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok @tarathia @bgwlsmahf25 @lezzylover @og-kxsh-420 @vanessashands @untoldreader

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #wandanat #kate bishop #pietro maximoff

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 24] The Truth

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“What are you going to do with him again?” Satoru asks as you get ready to meet up with Suguru. He talks as if he has any right to know. You’re finishing up your makeup in your room while he stands in the doorway.

“Does it concern you?” You look back at him. And he sighs before shaking his head. He guesses it doesn’t. He can’t argue with you about it, yet he stands there, leaning on the doorframe. You finish putting on your lipstick before looking back at him and raising your eyebrows, “Aren’t you going to Ren? He’s waiting for you to talk about his birthday plans.”

“Right…” Satoru answers, turning around and going to Ren. He finally leaves you alone with your thoughts, finally not having to listen to his stupid comments. As much as you don’t enjoy his presence at the moment, you still have to tolerate him because of your son.

Slowly you are seeing his point of view, but that doesn’t mean you forgive him. Satoru was young, easy to manipulate– Well, you aren’t exactly focused on his age but more about the fact that Satoru was recently grieving the loss of his father and in a way felt threatened that he would lose everything simply for not following orders. What hurts you the most right now is that he didn’t even try to explain the situation to you, he assumed you were better off going your own separate ways.

“Mommy!” Ren comes running into your room, disrupting the peace that you were just granted. You look at the puppy eyes that adorn his face, and you already know he wants something. You allow him to speak first, not wanting to accuse him of something that he might not even do. But you’re proven right, “Can I get a puppy for my birthday?”

“Remind me how old you’re turning, Ren.” You tell him, and Ren holds up five fingers, a grin on his face as he shows off his big age. You fight back a smile, trying your best to remain as serious as you can possibly be. You won’t be easily convinced by him. “Five. Such a big age, right? But not enough to take care of a puppy, plus you’re starting school soon.”

“School?” Ren asks as if it’s the first time he hears of it. You’ve been preparing for him, telling him about it daily.

“You know, the place where you’ll be going to learn and make friends for the next thirteen or so years of your life.” You answer, and his mouth turns into a circle when he remembers. “Who’s going to take care of the puppy then? I still have to work.”

“Granny.” Ren answers, and you chuckle as you shake your head. Your mother isn’t exactly a big pet person, if you were to give her the responsibility of taking care of a puppy, she might just kill you. He puts his hands together and begs, “Please, mommy, please! I want a puppy!”

“Ren, we both know that–” You begin, but you realize you’re just wasting your breath. You look at the time, realizing that if you don’t finish up soon, you’ll be late. “Talk to your father about it, I have to finish getting ready.”

“Daddy!” Ren yells as he walks out of your bedroom. Maybe you made a mistake since Satoru loves to spoil Ren, and Satoru doesn’t like to think of additional responsibilities since he’s not the one that’s at Ren’s side at all times.

You’ll deal with it when Satoru attempts to get Ren a puppy, for now you’re going to focus on your own problems. Your own problem being your meeting with Suguru.

You wait for Suguru at the café near your apartment. You have a beverage in your hand, taking an occasional sip, making sure you don’t finish it before Suguru finally decides to show up. Your eyes are glued to the door, waiting for him to finally make his grand entrance. 

You feel the nerves creeping through all of a sudden, and you have no idea why. Maybe it’s because you lied to him about Satoru, or maybe it’s because you’ve been avoiding his calls. You take a deep breath to calm your nerves, looking at the time. If he doesn’t get here within five minutes, you’ll leave. He’s running late, and you have no intention of waiting for him all day.

In reality, you’re just looking for an excuse to leave. You want to avoid this confrontation as much as you can, but you know you have to face him eventually. Suguru has been one of Satoru’s closest friends, and you were close to dating, the least you can do is give him one last conversation. You can’t avoid him forever.

Your eyes shift back and forth between the time and the door, mentally praying that he doesn’t show up. However, your prayers go unanswered when he walks through the door, his eyes immediately landing on you. He gives you a soft smile as he approaches your table.

“Hi, Suguru.” You try to return his smile, but it looks awkward. Suguru points at the counter, telling you that he’s going to get his beverage before sitting down with you, to which you nod in response. You take another deep breath, trying to calm yourself. He looks fine, and you hate to ruin his day– Perhaps he won’t care, but you doubt it. You told him a very serious lie about his best friend, you doubt he’ll be too happy with you after finding out.

“It’s so nice to see you after… So long.” Suguru sits across from you. You shift in your seat, adjusting your posture before focusing on him. You nod with an awkward smile on your face. At that moment you know, this is going to be a long hour.

“It is.” You agree before a long awkward pause ensues. You clear your throat, about to ask him how he’s been holding up, but Suguru has other plans when he speaks up before you,

“Why have you been avoiding me?” He goes straight to the point. There’s a reason why you two are there, and it isn’t for small talk. Maybe you can get to more fun matters later or another day, but not right now. 

“I’ve just been busy with Satoru and figuring out this whole parent thing, that…” You begin with an excuse but you can’t finish the sentence. You bite down your lip before you take a deep breath. You have to say it, if you keep dragging it you’ll feel worse. “I partially lied to you. Satoru never suggested an abortion at the thought of me being pregnant, I didn’t tell him because he didn’t give me the chance to, and then I couldn’t tell him because… His mother didn’t want him to know.”

And he chuckles. Suguru lets out a laugh, which makes you furrow your brows. You expected many different reactions, but not a laugh. You chew on the inside of your cheek, anxiously waiting for him to say something else.

“Is that why you haven’t been answering my calls?” Suguru asks, and you hum in response even though it’s not all. He lets out another laugh, and you want to ask why he laughs but you decide against it. You wait for him to finally say something else, although time feels as if it slows down. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” You sound utterly confused. What the hell is he talking about? How would Suguru know?

“I knew. I asked Satoru what he would’ve done if you had gotten pregnant and he said he would’ve stayed by your side.” He answers, and you let out a sigh of relief knowing that the situation won’t be the big mess that you were expecting. You do still feel guilty about it. “I mean sure… Satoru could’ve lied to me, but I don’t think he would have.”

“Why didn’t you say anything about it?” You’re curious as to why he decided to remain silent about this of all things. It’s a serious matter, which you would’ve expected him to furiously call you to berate you about. But you guess the man that sits across from you isn’t that type of person.

“You lied to me to protect your ass, and I can’t really blame you for it.” He shrugs, and he could’ve left it at that and it would’ve ended up perfectly fine. The conversation could’ve ended there and you would switch the topic and talk about more lighthearted stuff. But Suguru makes sure to add, “Plus Satoru also lied to you so you’re even, I guess.”

“Do you know?” You question, wondering why he brings up the fact that Satoru lied to you as well. You watch his cheeks turn pink when he realizes his words.

“Know what?” He stutters, which says all you need to know. He knows. For how long has he known? He realizes immediately that he’s messed up. He gave himself away.

“For how long have you known?” You immediately ask, and Suguru tries to play dumb, he claims he doesn’t know what you’re talking about, making a fool of himself. You’re clearly mad, but you try to not let it show through your tone. You try to take deep breaths.

“You can say we’re kind of even…” Suguru scratches the back of his head, but that’s not enough. You’re not even because the situation with Ren had nothing to do with him, at least in your eyes. Yes, you lied to him, but it was your business, something that had nothing to do with him.

“Does Shoko know too?” You scoff, and it’s merely a joke, but Suguru bites down his lip before commenting,

“I mean, considering the fact that she’s sleeping with his wife, probably.” Which makes your eyes widen. It’s shocking, but it makes a lot of sense. You’re still speechless. “Satoru told me… A while ago.”

“I guess we’re even then.” You let out a chuckle, but it’s not humorous. You’re clearly… Annoyed. “But I think… I had different plans for us, and so did you. But we should remain as friends.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He asks, confused why you say that. He knows you’re mad, but what you’re making is a rash decision. “You don’t mean what you’re saying, you’re just upset because–”

“No, I know what I’m saying. Suguru, I lied to you so I guess I shouldn’t be too mad but I am. And I lied to you about Satoru, and… We shouldn’t be together, I feel like we started this off wrong.” You respond, and it almost hurts to say. 

“But we can start over again without lies and–” He begins, and you cut him off.

“Let’s try to give it some time before even thinking about that. I’m not really in the right headspace for a relationship.” You answer truthfully, and he furrows his brows. He doesn’t know why, but that ticks him off.

“I bet you’ll end up choosing Satoru again.” He sounds bitter, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Of course he says that, he assumes you’re so in love with Satoru that you can’t have a relationship with him. Suguru thinks too mighty of himself. “Explains why you so adamantly ignored my calls, and why you were on vacation with him–”

“I have a son with him, Suguru. Of course I’m going to do shit with him.” You interrupt him, standing up from your seat. He has his arms crossed, looking almost like a pouty child because he isn’t getting his way. He almost reminds you of Satoru. “I told you we should give it time before we even begin to think about it. Don’t make your case worse.”

He keeps silent while you walk away, deciding that you’re right. He isn’t going to make his case worse. 

“How did it go?” Satoru seems as if he has been waiting by the door for you the entire time. 

“He knew?” You immediately ask, and he nods in response which makes you roll your eyes. “Everyone knows shit except me.”

“I can say the same about Ren.” Satoru argues, which is a great point, but you won’t admit it. You hand him your purse, as if he were your own little butler, and he proceeds to take it to your room.

“Where’s Ren?” You half-yell, and the man shushes you, which earns a weird look from you. There’s no way he actually got Ren to fall asleep… But for what other reason would Satoru shush you?

“He’s asleep.” Satoru informs you when he walks back, and you want to question what kind of sorcery the man is doing to make a boy that hates taking naps, fall asleep. You do appreciate it though, so you won’t complain.

You two awkwardly stand around, not sure what to speak about next since Ren is asleep. There’s something that comes to mind, but you’re not sure how appropriate the question is. Ren is asleep, so there shouldn’t be an issue, however, you don’t want to overstep any boundaries.

You still clear your throat though, “Did you know that Shoko was–”

“I know.” Satoru chuckles. “Right when we got back, Shoko dug her claws into her– Or Sayo did.”

“Were you upset when you found out? I mean, when we first saw each other again you called her love.” You bring up, walking over to the couch to take a seat, and he follows behind. Satoru takes a moment to think, and properly formulate his answer. He sighs before speaking up,

“I guess, for a moment I thought I loved her. I’m very fond of her, and I confused my adoration for her as love. She knew what I was going through, and she was always sweet to me, we could make each other laugh. Overall, we got along.” He explains, and you listen attentively. You’ll do anything to gain a little bit of perspective into his mind. “We just had each other, and that was that. But then you came into my life, and I remembered what love felt like.”

You feel your face get warm, and you look away from him. Maybe Suguru is right– You can’t let him be right. Satoru still committed a lot of bad actions. 

You stay silent and let a minute pass before speaking up again, changing the topic, “It’s not just Ren’s birthday coming up, but also yours. What would you like?”

“I already have everything I could ever want.” Satoru answers, which makes your task slightly more difficult. You’re still going to get him something for his birthday, even if it’s just a pair of socks. “How about Ren? I heard he wants a puppy.”

“He’s not getting one. Nope.” You tell him, and he laughs before nodding in response. You’re not sure he’s gotten the message yet, but you’ll make sure to remind him.

#[changes] #gojo saturo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic

[aerithmybbgmypookiemywife]

Genshin SAGAU where they hide in the Fortress Of Meropide in order to live a normal life. (2)

now that you got caught, he promised to keep your secret but... also shout out to @/udretlnea for a scene idea not proof read

You stood there, frozen in shock that your identity was easily found out by him. "I-I..." you stuttered, not knowing what to say, "You must have a reason to stay in the shadows..." he added, inching even closer. Wriothesley's piercing stare made you uncomfortable as you just looked down.

"I-I just want to live a normal life..." you replied. It took a moment for him to respond, "You don't belong here, your Grace. To stay in this facility for years to come, I don't think that's living a normal life." He replied. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him, "Please, no need to call me by that title." you told him.

"...You're finally looking at me." he mumbled as he stared at you. He couldn't believe it... It's you... The Creator. "You can't be here, you deserve to be out there. Exploring the world, your Grace..." he added. "No... I just... I just want to live a normal life so please just- just forget this ever happened-" you were cut off by him. "I'll take care of everything if that's what you wish, Your Grace... With your criminal record, I don't think people would bat an eye around you." he reassured you. You were quiet for a moment, thinking of a response...

"Your Grace?" the two of you turned around to see one of the Guards, "Um..." the guard looked at Wriothesley. You cleared your throat and looked away. Wriothesley let out a small laugh while the guard just looked confused but brushed it off. Before he walked up to the guard, he leaned in close to you, "Come to my office at 9." he whispered in your ear and soon left.

Creator! Reader whose sentence was cut short because of... well... his doing. Before you left the Fortress of Meropide, he gave you a bag of mora and a small hut on the mountains where Fontainians don't really go to. He reassured you that you would be given an allowance every week to which you were thankful of.

You just wished he was the last person to know of your identity...

Creator! Reader who does live a peaceful life outside the city of Fontaine, you do go there from time to time for groceries but you do it quick in order to not attract anyones attention. Basically living as a shadow.

You decided to go to the city today because of a merchant from Liyue is selling rice and other goods that you missed in your original life. You bought the things you needed as quick as possible, while walking to the exit, you notice three familiar people...

Oh shit! Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet!

You froze for a moment, you turned around but Freminet had already noticed you. You were about to run but- oh shoot a child infront of you!

You abruptly stop, resulting in you dropping to the ground. You could hear loud footsteps running up to you. "Umm... are you alright...?" you heard a quiet voice call out for you who turned out to be Freminet who held out his hand. Lyney and Lynette were picking up your groceries. You stared at him for a moment before grabbing his hand. He helped you stand up as you hissed in pain.

You looked at your hands to see the palm of your hands were grazed, and you notice the bits of... Golden blood showing... You could feel your heart drop to the floor. "Here are your groceries! You should be careful next time." Lyney spoke out as he handed you your groceries to which you were quick to snatch from him.

He didn't even get to say a word before you bowed and came off running. Lyney watched as you run away, "Huh... must be in a hurry." he mumbled. "They kind of look suspicious..." Lynette whispered to which Lyney just brushed off. While Lyney and Lynette were talking, Freminet stood there, frozen as he stared at his hand that held yours.

Bits of... Golden liquid were on his palm... Did this mean-

"Freminet! Come on, Lynette is bugging us to go already, there's a bake sale going on." Lyney called out his name, to which he flinched. "Oh... Um... I'll be right there!" he replied.

He glanced at the palm of his hand again, 'If they are the Creator... then... why are they hiding...?' he thought.

ill write a part 3 soon, ill wrap this whole story in part 3 :))

Tags: @uchihaeirin (did I do it right like the tagging?? ajdhlkej im new sorry lmaoo)

#genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #genshin x reader #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact x reader #sagau x reader

[romanticintheory]

Can you do something fluffy and domestic with Price. Like maybe him trying to ask civilian reader out on a date, and everything is just going against him. (He eventually does get to ask her whether or not it was how he planned it.)

john wants to ask his favorite waiter/waitress out on a date, but the universe seems to have other plans for him.

john price x gn!reader

fluff, john trying his best, domesticity

a/n: ty for the request!! you’re my first one so i hope you like it <3 also, let’s just pretend like the timeline of this fic makes sense :)

-

Oh, this poor man was hopeless from the start. He had been interested in you for a while and was finding the courage within himself to finally ask you out. He felt silly about the ache in his chest whenever he thought about what your response might be. He just wanted to do right by you was all. So, when he was finally out of his latest mission and allowed to take a break, he was determined to pop the question to you.

The plan was to stop by the flower shop and buy a simple bouquet for you, but when he found himself in front of the store it had been closed. “Family Emergency. Will be back next week.” He didn’t have a week.

Okay, so, no flowers. It was disappointing, to say the least, but he could make do. 

You were nearing the end of your shift when your coworker, Missy, tapped you on the shoulder. As you turned away from the table you were cleaning, she leaned down and whispered in your ear, “There’s that hot man here, again. He’s asking for you, dear.”

She ended her news with a knowing wink. Looking past her shoulder, you could clearly see John sitting at a table with a menu in his hands. Your cheeks flushed at Missy’s insinuation.

“Thanks,” you managed to choke out, hoping she didn’t notice how flustered you were.

“Of course. That’s the second time, just so you know,” she reminded teasingly, nudging you with her elbow encouragingly before leaving to go attend to her own tables.

Out of the three times John had been to your restaurant (including this one), he spent the last two specifically requesting your presence. Though you tried not to think much of it, you couldn’t ignore the way it made your heart flutter.

Straightening your uniform, you made your way to his table with a genuine smile—a stark contrast to the fake one you give to other customers just for the sake of work. John pretended like he wasn’t secretly watching you in the periphery of his vision and looked up at you once you found your way to him.

“It’s nice to see you again,” you beamed.

“‘S nice to see you too,” he replied, unable to keep that lovestruck smile off his face. “How have you been, sweetheart?”

You laughed softly, “I’ve been alright. You know, just the same old. How about you, John?”

“I’m afraid it’s been the same for me. Just got off a mission.” Not once did his eyes leave yours. It was almost intimidating, the way he was so dedicated to giving you his full attention.

“Really? You’ll have to tell me about it sometime,” you said hopefully.

It was the perfect opportunity for him. All he had to say was, ”Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime,” and he almost pulled it off.

“Actually, I—”

Ring, ring, ring, ring.

Internally cursing himself, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and saw the contact Laswell flashing on his screen. Usually, when she called, it was something worth hearing. He looked up at you apologetically, but you just smiled and waved your hand at him to let him know it was okay.

Standing up, he answered Kate’s call and pressed his phone between his ear and his shoulder. You couldn’t hear much of what the other person was saying. It was mostly just John nodding his head, saying a quick “yes” or “no,” or mentioning what you assumed were his colleagues' names.

Gathering his things, he turned to you and gave an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, but I have to leave, right now. I apologize for wasting your time like this.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry! It’s nice to have seen you anyway, and I’m glad you’re doing well. I don’t mind, honestly,” you reassured him, secretly disappointed at the fact that his visit was so short-lived.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “If it's not too out of line, may I ask when you get off work?”

Throwing all caution to the wind, you quickly answered, “At about ten thirty.”

“Ten thirty, all right,” he said (more so to himself than you). “Have a good rest of your shift, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, I hope all is well at work,” you nodded, watching as his eyes lingered on your for a moment before he left for the door.

The entire time he was back at work the thought of you sat in the back of his mind. Honestly, he couldn’t even remember why he was there. Something about an important lead? Or maybe a new contact? Honestly, his head was in the clouds.

Even though you didn’t know he was going to ask you out, he still felt guilty for not being able to pop the question to you. As soon as he left the meeting, he was out the door. It was already ten, and it took about twenty-five minutes to get to the restaurant. He silently cursed himself for the second time that day, still determined to get in his car and see if, by some miracle, he could catch you.

He had imagined himself in the exact opposite situation he was currently in. He had wanted to be out of uniform in something more presentable and approachable, being able to spend his time with you without any interruptions. Now, he was having to rush his pace with his uniform on as he attempted to make up for his first failed attempt at asking you out. He didn’t want to be the captain with you, just John Price. 

Peeking into the front door of the now-closed restaurant, he scanned the few workers left inside to see if any of them were you only to be met with disappointment. His frustrated grew ten-fold as he turned away from the door, making his way back to his car.

Just as he was about to hop in, you were exiting the side door with your uniform in hand.

“John?” you called out, stopping just a few feet away from him. You almost didn’t recognize him with the way he was dressed (not that you were complaining).

He whirled around instantly at the sound of your voice. “(Y/n),” he started. “I almost thought I missed you.” You smiled. “No, one of my coworkers needed help with something so I stayed behind just a little bit.” “How kind of you. Most would leave as soon as they were able,” he praised, shutting his car door behind him.

“She’s always been kind to me. I figured the least I could do is repay her.” You paused. “So, uh, what brings you back here so late?”

You.

“Well, I was just…” Why was he nervous? He had asked out plenty of people before (though none quite like you). For Christ’s sake, he was a disciplined soldier capable of incredible feats without breaking a single sweat. He’s faced dangerous criminals with a calm face and a stable mind, but with you, oh, it was like everything he ever learned went out the window.

You waited expectantly with bated breath.

“Well, I was actually wondering if you would want to go out with me sometime. Anywhere you like,” he finally managed. “‘Course, feel free to say no. I promise I won’t be hurt.”

He’s lying, of course, but you didn’t need to know that.

Your face lit up at his question, answering with an immediate, “Yes, I’d love to!”

Finally, finally, he could release the breath he was holding. His shoulders visibly relaxed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he grinned at your response.

“How do you feel about movie and a dinner?”

Maybe it didn't go exactly as he'd planned, but at least you said yes, right?

#john price x reader #captain john price x reader #price x reader #john price imagine #captain john price imagine #call of duty x reader #call of duty imagine #cod x reader #cod imagine #rarawrites #cod mw x reader #john price x you #call of duty fluff #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #john price fanfic #price fanfic #john price x gn!reader #cod x gn!reader #call of duty x gn!reader

[mphountitled]

Oh my!! I just read your lee know req and god please spare me my knees are weak. Can i request a lee know dilf? I’m sure its perfect!! 💗 btw i love you take lots of rest! Mwah!

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐞

Pairing: Lee Minho x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dating a single dad who coincidentally happens to be your next-door neighbor does not come without its fair share of hardships (and fun)

Warnings: Language, Humor, Domestic Fluff, Single Dad AU, Secret Relationship, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), implied age gap, Brat!TamerMinho, Bratty!Reader, Oral, Dacryphilia, Needy!Minho, Slight DDLG, Dom/Sub undertones

Seriously so domestic, you have been warned <3

Dating had always been difficult, and up until very recently, you had been perfectly content as an unwilling participant of crush culture. Seldom men have grappled your attention, and the ones that do are often doomed to give you the ick. Every man was either too loud and obnoxious or too nonchalant and non-empathetic. You had given up on dating altogether until fate sunk its talons into your love life.

What're you wearing?

The message came at the dead of night while you lay supine on your couch. Minho rarely sent text messages, preferring to call or email like the archaic man he was. It sent you crazy with admiration.

Wouldn't you like to know?

You grinned as you sent the message back, chewing anxiously at the ends of your sleeves like you were a child awaiting their scolding.

Yes I would. That's why I asked.

Almost immediately, you could tell Minho was needy. He was naturally very blatant and authoritarian, but he became even more so when he found himself slipping into arousal. You could picture him through the screen, and the mental image had your stomach warming with delight: his hair shaggy from his hands running through it all day. His dress shirt, unbuttoned. And perhaps maybe he was reclined backwards on his big leather couch. Nursing is phone in one hand a whiskey tumbler in the other.

What are you wearing.

Comes Minho's message a second time. This time, the tone felt far more demanding despite being the exact same words. You immediately knew that if you would not comply quickly, you might be in for a punishment. Oh how you adored punishments.

Wrong punctuation. It's 'what are you wearing?' No full stop. And you have an adult job? Smh...

You're so undeniably tense you fear your jaw might crack from the pressure that it's clenched and you hold yoir phone close tp your screen. For 60 agonizing seconds there is not response and you can definitely picture the look on Minho's face with his tongue poking tje inside of his cheek while he shook his head and murmered a quiet and appalled "진싸" to himself.

Come over. His next text reads. The kid's asleep. Come over.

You dreaded taking the very short walk to your next door neighbor and boyfriend's apartment and yet, the opportunity to piss Minho off even more is just too difficult to pass up. A slow smile grace's over your face as you send back an 'aye aye captain' before slipping on your slippers to make the short journey to his apartment.

Before your fist even hits the surface of the wood, the front door is ripped open and Minho's pulling you inside. "You've been holding out on me?" He grumbles, before forcing kisses down the side of your neck. "Why?"

In a flurry of trying to kick your shoes off at the front door as Minho leads you both to the couch. You try to control Minho's frantic groping at your sides and try to ignore his bulge pressing against your thigh. When pulling you onto his lap, you're not quite sure what to make of your thoughts and emotions.

All you feel is a sharp pinch on the skin underneath your woolen sweater and you yelp, "What the hell-"

"Answer me?" He says, glaring at up you with an aura of seriousness. Your legs ached as you straddled Minho's lap, and conversation seems impossible. "I wanna know why you suddenly think it's okay to start being a fucking bra-

"You brought it!? I can't believe you actually brought it-"

A small, excited gasp cuts through what was to be the most embarrassing scolding of your life.

Like the breaking of an ancient spell; you and Minho push back from each other on the couch, you detangle your limbs and you keep a distance. You're almost grateful for the little boy padding into the living room, tiredly rubbing his eyes.

Minho watches his son run towards you on the couch with furrowed eyebrows. Nothing but confusion swims across his darkened irises, and you shrug slightly before uncovering the thing that has apparently been in your hands this whole time. Minho had been so clouded by his own lust that he barely saw the children's book you had clasped in your hands. He watches how you and his son exchange pleasantries like long-lost friends. The both of you practically beaming.

He is only able to intervene on your very important conversation when he notices you handing his son the book.

"Woah- hey, what's going on?" Minho's hand instinctively goes to the back of his son's head as he looks down at you curiously, "What's this?" Minho asks.

"The reason I'm here," you make awkward little jazz hands which Minho's son finds very amusing before you clear your throat. You give Minho an inconspicuous wink.

"Your son... he-"

"I just can't stand how you read bedtime stories to me, Dad."

Minho swings his head downards, his eyes wide.

"You said you liked how I read-"

"No, Dad," theres a roll of his 4 year old eyes and you smile, "You like how you read. Its not very fun for me-"

And that's how you spent a majority of the evening reading a bedtime story for a sleepy little boy until he finally slipped away. You didn't mind it. The story was buying you some time from what you knew was a very aggravated Minho, and all you could do was chuckle to yourself as you read.

This was all so incredibly short-lived because the kid eventually did fall asleep, and you could feel your insides twist as you closed his bedroom door, making your way back to the living room. Every step you took felt like you were skinking deeper and deeper into the earth, and you swallowed very thickly when you rounded the corner to find Minho staring idly at the wall. He was slouched slightly on the couch with his shirt unbuttoned even further.

As you rounded the couch, you spied an empty whiskey tumbler on the coffee table. You shiver.

"Had fun, then?" Minhos hisses almost petulantly.

You roll your eyes as you lower yourself onto the couch beside him.

"If only you weren't such an incompetent bedtime reader then I wouldn't-"

But his hand was already squeezing at the base if yojr throat and you gasp, raising and lowering your body as your lips parted in what was very clearly excitement.

"You and this fucking mouth-"

"A-Are you going to punish me?" Minho regards you for a split second underneath the shadow of his lashes before he breaks out into a chuckle. You tilt your head in confusion, which is only tripled when his hand goes from your throat to the top of your head. "Good girls aren't supposed to like their punishments, are they?"

He knew what diction to use to have you slipping into subspace, and all you're able to do is nod as you shift closer to him. You lick your lips, so completely rattled with tension of all the endless possibilities. Would he spank you? No, perhaps that would cause far too much noise... would he edge you-

"Only slutsnlook forward to their punishments, you know that?" Your nipples tighten against the fabric of your sweater and you nearly moan again. Minho's hand on your head is so heavy, so unmistakably manly it has you spiraling.

"And punishments are no fun if you enjoy them." The hand on your head gets heavier and heavier.

"Minho-"

"Knees." It's all he says before you're toppling to the ground at his feet. Your heart is pounding out of the confines of your very chest, and you lick your lips suddenly feeling so incredibly dehydrated as Minho drags you to his knees. He sits back, letting his head rest on the back of the couch as he says, "You know what to do, don't you?"

The weight of your punishment suddenly hits you tenfold as you bring your shaky hands to undo Minho's belt. It wasn't a 'punishment' at all. Not in the way you wanted.

Instead, Minho was quite content letting you pull out his cock and service him. Making you wait as long as he was forced to.

Minho's jaw clenches when you pull his cock out of his briefs and the sound has your bottom lip trembling.

"P-Please, Minho,"

"Shut up," he mumbles into the air with his head still thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut.

Consequently, you nod into the open air as you spit into your hand and begin to pump his hard length with every bit of precision. You can feel your clit beg for some kind of friction to the point that your need becomes painful.

"You're too slow," he whispers, clenching his eyes shut in frustration, "Too fucking slow." You speed up the pace, watching his lips fall open and feeling utterly intoxicated by all the pretty sounds Minho makes for him all from the both of your hands wrapped around his cock.

"F-Fuck-" You twist your wrist, suddenly spurred on by his reaction.

"I don’t want your hands," Minho huffs, "I want your mouth" and you bend your head dutifully before closing your warm mouth around the head of his cock. Minho's head immediately snaps up from the couch, and he is completely and utterly wrecked. He digs his fingers into your hair, forcing you down onto his cock, "Make a mess. You know I like it when you make a mess, Dove," You're practically whining around his cock and he hisses.

Trails of spit and precum drip out of your mouth along with nasty tears that run down your face, reddening your eyes. Minho's cock twitches in your mouth at the very sight of you. "Look at you," he whispers, "Fucking look at what a mess you are for me," You're nodding frantically, his large cock hitting the back of your throat now-

"I'm gonna fucking cum in that pretty mouth of yours and yojre gonna take it, aren't you, baby?" He frantically moves your braids out of face, all the more the see your completely fucked out expression despite not even receiving any stimulation. It has him lifting his hips to rut into your mouth and just as you choke, Minho's voice cracks, "Shut a good girl," he praises as he looses control, "Shut as good fucking- FUCK-" His cum fills the back of your throat at an alarming rage and yourenforced to clench your toes and swallow, there was no other option. He pats down your head lovingly as his hips snap up against you and you whimperbsnd moan around his cock, only prolonging his orgasm

"God, you're so good to me, baby," he whispers, coming down from his high but not without any aftershocks, "You're so fucking good to me,"

<3

© to @mphountitled on tumblr; do not repost

#lee know #lee know x reader #lee know x you #lee know smut #lee know x y/n #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #lee minho #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids #stray kids smut #skz #skz imagines #skz smut #skz x reader

[barcaatthemoon]

the truth iii || leah williamson x reader ||

your first time back in spain after joining arsenal.

this is the final part to the truth. hope that anybody who followed along, enjoyed themselves.

it felt like a dream to be a part of the champion's league again. at first, you had been over the moon about everything. that is until you got the courtesy text from the barcelona girls that jenni was coming to the games. you knew to partially expect that. she may have left, but she was still going to support her friends at barcelona.

"hey, we're about to land," leah said softly as she nudged you. the last that she had known, you were fast asleep against her shoulder. the flight wasn't a very long one, but you had been eager to catch up on some sleep. "are you ready?"

"as i'll ever be." leah frowned at your response. she had watched you freak out after the texts had come in. it wasn't enough for jenni to come to barcelona to watch the champion's league final, but she had also made alexia ask if you'd join them.

you knew that she had asked other girls first, but most of them had refused to talk to you on her behalf. ona had even gone as far as to block the older player for nearly three weeks. alexia was the only one who had told you that, mainly as a courtesy since laia had also been invited. she didn't want you to feel left out, even if she knew the last thing you wanted to do was go out for dinner with your ex.

"hey, everything will be fine love, i promise," leah said as she gave you a peck on the cheek. "i know that we haven't really said anything to anybody else, but my offer still stands if you want me to come."

"are you sure?" you asked her. leah nodded. she knew that you'd need support, something to make sure that you didn't go running back to jenni. your national team friends would be doing that as well, but having leah there would be grounding for you.

things with leah were nothing like they had been with jenni. leah was a great fit for you. sometimes she could be a little shaky with communication, but with some gentle pushing, she'd open right up for you. leah had helped you gain back a lot of the confidence that jenni had seemingly stolen away after the breakup. she made you feel safe in a way that you had never known before.

"i love you," leah muttered as she pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

"i love you too," you told her. moments later, the plane landed and the two of you were shuffling off of it.

…

"and the traitor has arrived!" mapi shouted as you walked with laia and leah towards the table. you knew that she was joking, as she was the first of your old club teammates to run over to hug you. she wrapped her arms around you tightly, and it was only alexia and sandra's hugs that rivaled mapi's.

"i see that you brought someone with you," cata teased as she slung her arm over your shoulder. you glanced over towards leah, who was standing sort of awkwardly behind you. "care for proper introductions?"

"leah, these are our opponents. opponents, this is my girlfriend, leah," you said. actually saying the words made your chest swell with pride. leah stepped forward and took your hand as she waved with her other.

"when did this start?" alexia asked, motioning between the two of you. truthfully, you had fallen a bit out of contact with everybody back in spain. it was hard to keep up after having cut all contact in germany. laia would remind you about answering texts, but that was only because some of your less reserved teammates would pester her constantly.

"seven months," you answered confidently. "she is good to me, i love her."

"unfortunately that does not stop captain talks." alexia and irene both stood up, ushering leah out with them. you took a seat next to ona and lucy, who were trying to hold hands under the table discreetly. that left the seat next to keira open for leah to take whenever she came back.

"so, you and leah?" lucy asked. there was a small smile on her face, one that didn't completely hide her surprise. ona had mentioned that you were dating one of her english teammates, but lucy had assumed it was alessia. that had been originally who ona tried to set you up with at arsenal, but your chemistry with leah had been undeniable.

"it's good to see you happy," jenni said. everybody glared at her, as if she had no right to speak to you. you understood and appreciated their protectiveness, but it felt unneccessary. "i am glad that you are doing okay."

"thank you, jenni," you said. the reply felt forced. you could tell that she wanted to ask for a moment alone with you, but nobody else at the table would have let that happen. you were honestly shocked that sandra and cata hadn't tried to squeeze you in between them.

an awkward quiet washed over the table as your girlfriend returned with your captains. leah took the empty seat in between you and keira, who immediately started to interrogate leah about your relationship. you smiled listening to leah tell keira and the rest of the table stories about your first couple of dates and when she realized that she loved you.

it should have been perfect, but you couldn't stop the guilt that gnawed at you. jenni sat quietly towards the head of the table. she looked rough, worse than you could ever remember seeing her. even after everything that had happened during the world cup, she hadn't looked this bad. it seemed that jenni was finally coming to terms with the fact that you were really done with her.

you had once been so caught up in her that she didn't think it would ever be possible. somehow, you had moved away and moved on with someone else. jenni had to admit that leah really was perfect for you in all of the ways that she hadn't been. the two of you were different enough to work out well. you and jenni had been too similar, which was fun at first, but it quickly became a problem. jenni knew how to hurt you in ways that would never occur to leah.

"excuse me, i should head back to my hotel." jenni rose from the table without much fanfare. you watched her leave, itching to follow her out to talk to her. leah watched you carefully, unsure of what to do. it terrified her to let you go out there, but she knew that you needed to get some things off of your chest.

"go, talk to her. i'll be out to check on you in five," leah whispered in your ear. you hesitated but left when she gave you a small nod. everybody stared at leah like she had just grown a second head.

"you're a better woman than i am williamson," lucy said as she watched you walk out of the restaurant.

"she needs this, i have to let it happen. i have to trust that she'll come back to me." leah took some deep breaths to steady her nerves. she could go into the world's most important football game calm as ever, but this was making her heart pound in her chest.

"jenni, what happened? a year ago you were doing fine. what's changed?" you asked your ex. jenni had come outside and promptly sat down on the sidewalk. you stood behind her, unsure of how close to get. you didn't want to give her the wrong impression, knowing that she had been drinking a bit over dinner.

"you've got a girlfriend, and it looks serious. you moved on, and i'm still stuck here thinking about you constantly. every single day something reminds me of you, and it sets me back to square one. i've tried to find someone to settle down with because that's all i want, but i can't stand anybody for more than a few weeks because they're not you," jenni rambled. she looked up at you with tears in her eyes, ones that she had been waiting to shed until you were with her. she wanted you to dry her tears and tell her that you'd come back, but that was never going to happen.

"i am sorry that you are going through this, i am, but there is nothing i can do anymore. i have leah, and i love her more than i've ever loved anybody. we were good together, great sometimes, but it was always so physical. it wasn't easy, but i learned how to step away from that with leah. you need to find someone who doesn't just want to fuck you. find somebody to talk to," you told her.

"i don't want to talk to anybody, but you."

"we never did much talking jenni. it's not what you want to hear, but maybe you need to grow up. there's more to relationships than fucking, but i don't know if you're ready to accept that kind of truth." you had heard about her relationship with alexia, the last one that had really been serious from the sounds of it. "maybe i'm not the one you should be talking to."

"go back inside please," jenni grumbled. she sounded serious, far more serious than what you had ever heard before. you went back inside, catching leah as she made her way to come bring you in. the two of you sat down at the table together, leah integrating you into the bit of conversation she'd started with some of barcelona's defenders on who was the most frustrating striker they'd ever had to mark.

you hadn't done much defending in your career, especially not whenever your coaches had discovered your speed. they had quickly pushed you from the backline to the front lines. mapi and ona both complained directly about you, inciting the whole table to start telling leah all sorts of stories about you from your barcelona days. it was nice, and if you noticed alexia slip outside, you didn't mention it, even going as far as to distract everybody with a youth team story or two.

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine

[pricefieldsuperiority]

Yearning Allegations - Pt.3

Part 1 here / Part 2 here

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader

Genre: Friends to lovers slowburn

Summary: You've liked Paige for the longest time, is there any chance she likes you too?

It's been 2 weeks of awkward silence.

Ever since Paige came over the other day, she's either been ghosting your texts entirely or giving you short replies followed up with excuses about how she's really busy.

The biggest game of the season is coming up - Uconn vs Iowa. Everyone's been talking about it, and you know the team is training super hard for the game- KK and Nika won't stop blowing your phone up with Uconn shit. Despite all this, you just can't shake the feeling something is wrong between you two.

So that's why you're walking down to the school gyms at 9 pm, hoping to find Paige practicing late like she does when she's stressed out.

The halls seem so empty and lifeless without her constant chatter and her melodic laughter. You're fidgeting with your clothes, hoping the sinking feeling in your stomach will dissipate soon.

In the gym, you spot Paige on the farside of the court, shooting basket after basket. Her brows are furrowed with concentration, sweat beading on her forehead.

"Paige!" You shout as you lightly jog over.

Paige glances at you and then takes another shot, which just bounces off the backboard with a loud thud. She curses and grabs it on its way down before replying to you.

"Hey y/n, what are you doing here?"

You're anxious, eyes rovering over her face, but she won't meet your gaze.

"Is.. is everything okay between us?" You say, hesitantly stepping closer to her.

Paige has stopped throwing the ball, instead just holding it under one arm with her eyes trained on the floor.

She finally looks at you, a mix of emotions written all over her face.

"Everything's cool, yeah.. but be honest.. Did I.. make you uncomfortable the other day?"

"Of course not, why??" You're surprised by her words, confused by where she's going with this.

Paige's shoulders relax for a moment at your response, but her expression remains conflicted.

"I was just wondering if I took it too far the other day.." She trails off, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Too far?" You breathe out, hardly daring to consider what she means by that.

"Yeah.. I just.."

Paige seems to struggle to get the words out, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"I know you don't want me like how I want you, and I was worried I had made you uncomfortable or something."

Paige wants you? The words ring in your mind.

"What? What do you mean?" You're in disbelief. What is she talking about?

Paige sighs, throwing her basketball into the lined baskets lined by the gym walls before she continues on.

"Y/n, I've liked you for years. I've tried to make that clear, hoping you might take the hint or say something, but you never did. I didn't want to ruin what we have- but the other day made me feel so.." She trails off, "It's just hard to be friends with you when I want more than that. And I'm really sorry for ghosting you, that wasn't cool."

Paige runs her hands through her hair anxiously while your heart strains in your chest.

"And wait- that's not to say I don't want to be friends with you - I love being friends with you, I love you-"

Your heart is pounding in your ears, heart registering her words, and you just can't hold back anymore. You close the distance between you two, lunging for her, kissing her like she's your lifeline.

Paige is shocked for a second, before responding immediately, her hands grabbing your waist, pulling you in further.

It's all you've imagined, yet somehow better. Your hands are tangled in her hair, tugging lightly as her lips desperately press against your own. Paige kisses you, soft and open mouthed, but like a woman starved. You're enveloped in nothing but the sweet scent of her perfume while your heart feels like it's exploding, butterflies flittering wildly around in your stomach.

When you break apart, you both wear matching relieved grins. You swear to yourself that Paige's eyes have never looked more soft than in this moment, the love within them so obvious to you now. Her cheeks are flushed, more pink than you've ever seen them, her eyes alight with an excitement you've only ever attributed to the look she gets when she wins games.

Your next words tumble out in a rush, eager to tell her how you feel.

"I love you, Paige.. I've loved you since high school. I've loved growing up with you, learning more about you over the years, and getting to watch you do what you love. I love the way you care so deeply about people - about your fans, your team, your family. I love how strong you are, persevering through everything just to pursue your dreams."

You laugh, the words freeing to finally say aloud.

"I love all the little things about you, like the way you're so stupidly competitive about everything, whether that's shooting hoops or playing video games, I love your silly cocky nature and all your stupid jokes, your dramatic ass- bro can't even take medicine without taking a solid 10 minutes to complain- and even all the ways you annoy me on purpose just because you know they make me laugh nonetheless. I always feel safe with you, understood in a way I've never felt with other people.. I.. just.. so many things, Paige."

Paige's response is barely above a whisper,

"Why... why didn't you say anything?"

She's running her hands through her hair again, continuing.

"I just thought you didn't like me, like I hoped you did but I was never really sure. That's why I didn't say nothing"

You smile at her,

"I didn't wanna lose you by saying I liked you in case you didn't feel that way, I don't know. Maybe we both did the same thing, haha." You start trailing off awkwardly, suddenly feeling shy with the way she's looking at you.

Paige just grins, pulling you back into her by the hips, bringing you two face to face. She tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear before she rests her hands on your waist.

"Good thing I do, cause now I get to ask you to be my girl." Paige is grinning so widely you just grin back, happiness manifesting as butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

"Pfftt.. I was always your girl. " You stick your tongue out at her, and she throws an arm over your shoulder in response.

"Damn y/n tryin rizz me up!?" Paige laughs at her own joke before continuing,

"Anyway, come on, let's go home."

She holds the gym doors open for you, and you're struck with a sense of deja vu, heart full.

"Well.. I mean, it worked."

You smirk at her with that.

Paige just bites her lip in response, waggling her brows and rubbing her hands together at you.

You groan as you both walk to her dorm,

"Not the rizz hands!"

All you hear is her resulting laugh.

"Always the rizz hands! Come on y/n you love it, clearlyyyy."

You find yourself unable to stop smiling at her, but you attempt an eye roll to keep up appearances anyway.

"You're all mine now," you say, shoving her slightly.

Paige smiles back, love in her gaze.

"I was always yours y/n."

---

Authors Note: This is the final chapter, I love soft Paige. Hope y'all enjoyed it. Thanks for reading! <3

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn #uconn huskies #slow burn #uconn women’s basketball #paige buckets #uconn wbb #fanfic #friends to lovers #wlw #Spotify

[wonderlandwalker]

Adventure Unlocked | Eddie Munson x Reader

Stranger Things Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: You unexpectedly figure out a new kink Eddie has and plan the perfect moment to test it out

Content Warnings / Tags: Smut, 18+, porn with very little plot, PnV

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Once again not proofread but I haven't had much time to write recently so still wanted to post this. Got the idea from a request @urhoneycombwitch read and couldn't get it out of my head so here's my take on it.

It was supposed to be just another day at Eddie's trailer, a study date like the two of you regularly had, where you would try and catch up on reading and Eddie would do anything but. Except dates with Eddie were rarely like they were supposed to be, and today wasnt an exception. He was sitting at his desk, working on a new campaign while you sat at the bed with your books spread out, trying to concentrate but inevitably reading the same paragraph over and over again.

“Can you hand me the folder from the nightstand please?” You weren’t listening, not really anyway, only humming in respone, causing him to call out once more.

“Sweetheart, hand me the notes.” He was more assertive now, his tone of voice deeper in order to capture your attention, and it worked. 

“Yes sir.” It was meant as a quip, as banter the two of you were so used to, but Eddie’s head shot up the moment you said it. You noticed the blush creeping up on his neck as his mouth was slightly opened, eyes staring into yours. And just as quickly as it had happened, it was gone. A small cough to recover his composure and his focus back on his writing, but you still caught his glance everytime he looked in your direction, still noticed the manner in which he fidgeting wirh his pen. You had noticed, and there was no turning back now.

"Eddie" he only hummed in response to your inquiry, not daring to make eye contact just yet

"Eddie, look at me" he was slow to comply, nervous about your response, because Eddie wasn't stupid, the cat was out of the bag now.

"Does that turn you on?" Still hesitant, he moved his head up once more, not realising how much closer You had gotten to him by now, but the moment he looked at you, all his worries disappeared, because your expression was soft, there was a twinkle in your eyes that he could only describe as exited, and the way your pupils were dilated told him he wasn't the only one into this.

"Yeah" it was barely a whisper, a confession he didn't think he'd be making, so delicately given because he knew you would never crush it. 

Just as you were leaning in to connect his lips with yours, the front door opened, and Wayne shouted to inform you he had gotten home from work, having picked up dinner for the three of you on his way, so you decided to put a pin in your new discovery. 

The next days came and went as the both of you were busy trying to keep up with life, and Eddie didnt push the subject, perhaps worried it was not something you were comfortable with, but little did he know he only needed to wait a little bit longer, because you had been planning. Planning the perfect moment to continue where the two of you had left off, and right now while you were at the hellfire club is where it all came together, 

He looked at the clock above the door and back to you, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

“Where is everyone else?” They were never late, always so eager to get started they wouldn’t dare miss anything.

“I told them we’re starting a bit later today” Your tone was nonchalant, and it threw him off further.

“Why would you tell them that?” He looked so cute while thinking so hard, trying to trace back the day to figure out what had warrented this.

“Because I have some other plans first.” You had pushed your chair back, walking over to where he was sitting.

“What are you talking about” He was still very much in the dark, not quite catching on to pitch in your voice dropping ever so slightly.

“Don’t you have a quest for me?” You were standing in front of him now, supporting yourself on the arm rests of his throne, he was getting flustered with how close you were, fidgeting from his clueless nature. 

“I didn’t prepare any new adventures.” He looked up into your eyes as you leaned down closer to whisper in his ear.

“I’m sure you can think of one, dungeon master.” You could feel his body shudder from how close you were, and as you leaned back you saw his pupils dilate. 

“Do you mean-”

“Yeah” That’s all it took for him to understand, because he immediately took the opportunity to capture your face in his hands and kiss you with all the might he had. You’re sure he could have simply kept doing that all night, but you had other plans. So you started to trail kisses down his neck, paying extra attention to the pulse point right underneath his ear that you knew made him grow weak every single time, he was putty in your hands, and that’s exactly how you liked it. 

After a little while you lowered yourself to your knees in front of him, looking up at him through your lashes. You could see him struggling to keep his eyes open as you palmed him through his trousers, already hard from the idea alone. He wasted no time in shimmying out of them as you tugged at the fabric, letting it pool around his ankles. 

You didnt waste any more time taking his dick into your hands, stroking him slowly as you watched his head fall back and hit the back of the chair, but that was the last thing on his mind right now.

“Baby please” it was closer to a whine then it was to a question, and it turned you on just the same. You looked up at him once more, the tension causing him to catch your gaze before you spoke.

“Why don’t you make me?” It was a challenge, one he wasnt about to turn down. It only took one more look into your eyes, seeing the calmth behind them, before he complied. He raked his hand through your hair, twisting it in order to get a grip as he pushed your head down towards where he needed you the most. You were more than happy to comply, using your tongue in a sloppy attempt to keep up with the rhythm in which he was pushing down your throat. Eddie’s size had always been hard to take, but with practise and patience you had gotten better at it, breathing through your nose now as he hit the back of your throat, causing a slight gag from you which in turn made him realised a loud moan of your name as he leaned back into his throne. 

“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?” It was sweet, how he could be so out of his mind and still remind you, still praising you.

His grip faltered and you took it as a sign to double your effort, taking him deeper until your nose nestled against his pelvic bone, making you gag against him. A borderline sinful moan left him at the feeling, and as you were about to prepare yourself for the feeling of his cum sliding down your throat, he pulled you off him. For a split second you wondered if something was wrong, but the moment you met his eyes and saw the raw lust radiating in them, you knew what was about to happen.

“I need to be inside of you sweetheart, sit on my lap” This was the Eddie you had been trying to lure out, and you wouldnt dare let him ask twice. 

So you got off your knees and as you stood up his hands found the backs of your thighs, pulling you into his lap. His mouth attached itself feverishly to your neck, sucking bruises you’re sure would be visible for days, not that you’d mind. His hands were everywhere now, roaming over your ass and finding their way underneath your shirt as he took your nipples between his fingers and tugged at them, causing you to arch your back, leaning further into him.

“Does that feel good baby” His tongue was still hot on your skin, and the question was muffled by your own body, not daring to lean away from him. All you could do was moan out his name, desperate for him to continue. But right after you did you felt a sting on your ass as one of Eddie’s hands was now massasiging the flesh and his other found its way under your chin, tilting your head to look at him.

“That’s not what you call me now is it.” His tone had dropped an octave, and it was driving you insanel. “I’m sorry.. sir” Immediatly a grin appeared on his face.

“Much better sweetheart.” he moved his head in order to be able to attach his lips to the upper part of your breasts, every once in a while using his teeth to nip at the flesh there. In the meantime his hands made their way back under your skirt, kneading your inner thighs as he inched closer and closer to where you needed him the most. 

“Tell me what you want.” 

“I want you to touch me.” He looked up from where his mouth had made its home, a gleam in his eye that you werent sure you should feel worried or excited, but it sent a thrill down your spine nonetheless.

“I’m already touching you.” 

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean, hm” His fingers trailed closer to your core as they slipped your underwear to the side, sliding over your folds, teasing you.

“You’re so wet for me already, is this where you need me honey” 

“Please-” He kissed you as one of his fingers entered you, his thumb tracing slow circles on your clit as he swallowed your moans.

“That’s it princess, think you can handle another?” You wanted to answer him, but all you could do was nod as he looked at you expextingly, reconnecting your lips in a searing kiss the moment he added another finger, crooking them and causing you to cling onto him, your nails leaving faint scratch marks on his shoulders.

But as the feeling started to build he removed his fingers from inside of you, not leaving you empty for long as you could feel his hard dick at your entrance, pushing all the way inside with one thrust. It always made you feel so full to have him inside of you, and this time was no exception, the way he was stretching you feeling so good.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well, perfect for me.” His breathing had become laboured, and the way he was already ruthlessly thrusting up in you you figured he wouldn’t be lasting long either. 

“Need you to cum for me sweetheart, think you can do that?” Once again all you could do was whine as your head rested on his shoulder, hoping he knew you well enough to know what you needed.

“Fucking you so good you can’t even talk anymore. Don’t you worry, I’ll take good care of you.” He found your mouth in a slow kiss, much different than the ones before, now he took his time, exploring with his tongue and silencing all the pleas that left you. The moment his long fingers found your clit you were a goner, all that built up tension and pleasure toppeling over as you came undone around him, your walls spasming and gripping him even tighter, etching Eddie towards his orgasm as well.

“Shit baby, where do you want me-”

“Inside, need you to cum inside of me” That’s what did him in, he didnt waste another second as he pushed his hips into you, his cum painting your walls as he let out more profanities. 

For a minute the two of you sat there, with him still inside of you as he traced gentle patterns onto your back with his fingertips, his face nestling into your hair as he basked in your presence.

“We’re definitely doing that again.” His matter of fact tone made you giggling, causing him to squeeze his arms around you in a tight hug

“Whatever you say, dungeon master” His eyes immediately grew dark again at the title, looking down at you with that glimmer you loved to see.

“Careful what you say sweetheart, I can go another round right now” Just as he was about to prove it to you, a series of loud knocks came from the door. “Why is the door locked, are you guys in there?” Dustins voice rang from the hallway, and Eddie started to get up in order to let them in.

You got up in order to move to the chair next to him, but just as you were about to sit down Eddie grabbed you by the hips as he sat down in his throne, positioning you to sit on his lap as you got started on today's session. As you were playing his cum started to drip out of you and onto his leg underneath your skirt, and from the way he started squirming you knew he noticed as well, telling you this definitely wasn’t over yet.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson drabble #stranger things fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things fanart #eddie #eddie munson fluff #eddie fluff #fluff #smut #stranger things smut #stranger things fandom #stranger things fluff #eddie smut

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: yo, work is driving me nuts.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Lady Jazlene, a queen by marriage, cries herself to sleep. You stay until she snores and snuff the candle as you leave her on her stomach atop the stuffed mattress. You emerge between the guards and wonder if they keep people out or keep her in. 

They don’t react to you. No one really does. A shadow approaches. The thickset man grunts at you as the moonlight shines off his dark mail. Bryce waits patiently as you near him. He turns and walks beside you in silence. 

Much of the camp is asleep. The only fires that remain are those of the soldiers on watch for marauders and bandits. Your soles kick loose pebbles and trample flattened grass further. You yawn as you reach the luggage carts and find the one you rode in. The grey horse is tie to the axle, dozing on its feet with puffing nostrils. 

“The road will not get any less turbulent,” Bryce warns as he grabs his bedroll from across his mount’s rump. “You will need sleep, maid.” 

“Thank you, sir,” you lift the canvas draped over the back of the wagon. 

He grumbles and unfurls his roll across the dirt. You climb up and nestle down beneath the cover, pressed against a chest as you curl up. You hear the soldier lay down with a groan, “...too sweet...” 

You close your eyes and rest your head on a bent arm. The darkness quickly swallows you up into slumber and the day fades into obscurity. You’re not conscious long enough to dread the one ahead. 

As the sun rises, heat gathers in the cart. You wake in a damp sweat, nearly suffocating as you gulp up cool air. You slip down onto your feet and grab onto the cart to keep from stumbling. Bryce grunts as your soles crunch on the ground. 

“Eh, where’re you off to?” He sneers. 

You look down at him. His eyes are still closed as his grey steed sniffs at the dirt close to him. 

“Sir, I... I haven’t... relieved myself since... erm, well...” 

“Go on, but not too far,” he opens his eyes and sits up. “Holler if you meet trouble.” 

The horse huffs into his steely hair and he pets its nose. He grabs onto its reins and hauls himself up. You quickly spin and flit away. You go off into the brush where its thick and squat down, your skirts gathered above your knees. You miss the springs behind the castle where you would bathe with the other maids, you could use a wash now. 

You finish up and peer over the stretch of bodies, horses, and carts. You set off back toward the cart and as you come in sight of Bryce, he unties a dented kettle from his saddles. You feel much better without the pressure beneath your guts.  

“I could fetch water,” you offer. 

He looks over his shoulder. You think you surprised him. 

“Quiet mouse,” he mutters and faces you, gripping the bent handle, “I can manage a potful of water.” 

“Yes, sir, I only was being helpful.” 

“You stay, take Daisy to find some fresh grass,” he points to the horse. 

“Daisy?” You look at the beast, “is that her name?” 

He shrugs and stalks off. You go to the reins and loose them. You glance around and lead her over to an unyellowed swath of grass. She dips her long neck and grazes, tearing the strands noisily as her teeth clack. You pet her ear as she comes rather close to the hem of your skirt. 

Heavy steps tramp up behind you. You don’t bother looking as you assume it’s Bryce. Those who are stirring are barely able to lift themselves out of their rolls. The lazy rise of dawn does not inspire fastidiousness as the clouds haze amber and rose. 

“Fine horse,” the king’s timbre rumbles over you. 

You turn and bow your head, “your highness.” 

He inhales through his nose before he speaks again, “are you a fast rider?” 

“I’ve never... I don’t ride, your highness,” you reply, staring at his black mail, just at the center of his chest. “It isn’t my horse.” 

“I know it, I thought perhaps...” he begins and shifts his weight in his boots, “you might’ve secreted away the mare. That you would be sick for your home.” 

“Your highness? No, I wouldn’t--” You put your hand to your apron, “I am not a thief.” 

He pauses and his thick fingers toy with his belt, fiddling with a leather purse, “that isn’t what I...” he blows out in exasperation, “I do not think you dishonest. In fact, you are the most honest creature I’ve met around here.” 

You keep your eyes down, “I only mean to feed the horse.” 

“Yes, I believe you,” he assures, his tone glum, “forgive my inference. Truly, it wasn’t intended as such.” 

“I understand, your highness,” you say. 

“It was a jape, a poor one, I suppose,” he hooks his thumb in his belt and turns to pace. “I wanted to thank you. I have yet to figure out how to handle Lady Jazlene but you keeping her company, I do appreciate it.” He stops and crosses his arms as he faces you again, “last night, what you heard and saw... we are strangers still, her and I.” 

“I am a maid, your highness, I serve the lady and you now,” you reply, “that’s all I do.” 

His arms bulge before he drops them, “yes, I suppose for you, the matters of nobility are dull.” 

“It is not of my concern, your highness,” you say, “I am to see that all the wine and food and little things are taken care of.”  

You peer up at the sky as the dimness slowly recedes. His figure looms below and he slowly treads closer. You squeeze the reins. 

“You serve the queen, the king, and... a horse,” he reaches to touch its snout, dragging his knuckles along its grey fur. “Make certain we are fed and content.” 

“Whatever is needed, your highness,” you answer and watch his hand stroke the horse. 

“And what do you need?” He asks. 

You quork your head and stick out your lip. It's an odd question. You have what you need. You have a place in the cart, you have some nuts left over from Bryce’s generosity, and you have some hours sleep behind you. 

“Nothing, I think,” you say. 

He scratches behind the horse’s ear, “and what do you want?” 

You purse your lips. You think. Another strange inquiry. What should you want? That’s not something anyone ever worried for. You only troubled after what others wanted. 

“I... I want to see the snow,” you say at last, “I think I dreamt of it but I can’t remember. I don’t really know what it would look like but I remember once Merinda spoke of it. She knew a stable hand who once lived in the north.” 

He’s quiet. Your answer isn’t very interesting. To him, the snows must be so tedious. Nothing more than ordinary. He makes a clicking noise. 

“I want to see the snow too,” he pulls his hand away from the horse and for a moment, he seems to reach for you, recoiling short of touching your grasp on the reins. He withdraws and presses his thumb to his teeth. He hums. “We have far to go before the snow...” he rasps, “should you require anything for the road ahead, you may ask.” 

“That is kind, your highness, but I don’t expect I require much,” you assure, “thank you.” 

“Mmm,” he drones as he faces the sunrise and sets his posture, “onward.” 

He marches away as you stay and watch Daisy munch on the grass. You comb your fingers through her main, loosening the tangles. When another approaches, you glance over. Bryce tidies his own hair with his hands. 

“Water is boiling, maid,” he declares, “I have some spare mint leaf for tea.” 

“Yes, sir, thank you,” you smile down at Daisy and move out of reach of her teeth. “I will stay with the horse until she is done.” 

“Hm, aye, I understand,” his forehead lines, “she is much more pleasant than I.” 

He nods and turns back the way he came. You watch after him as he goes to sit before the hanging kettle, a low flame burning beneath it. He rolls his shoulders and hunches forward as he plants his elbows on his knees. These people of the Hinterlands are not so cold as they pretend. 

⚔️

The long train continues through the lands. Some days slower than others. There are some where progress stops at midday in favour of passing through a village or approaching a nearby farm. The king departs from the larger party, riding with his soldiers to greet the commonfolk. Lady Jazlene refuses to accompany her husband in favour of her silk tent and wine. 

The pauses in your trek makes you curious; you only ever heard of King Waleran showing his face to the citizens during the harvest festivals and self-aggrandizing ceremonies. You never saw the king yourself, only heard Lord Dustan and his wife resentfully complain of how the king never made the journey to Debray. Did he not recall that once a duchess was married to his great-uncle? 

You spend the hours in Jazlene’s company. She wants her wine and mutton. You notice that her appetite for the former has grown since the first day’s travel. She even requested that some casks be sought during one of the king’s visits. He acted as if he did not hear her entreaty. Their few encounters since that first night have been terse and short, neither offering much more than a word or two. 

The queen swirls her cup, watching the motion of the wine within. She giggles and puts it down, picking up the looking glass and admiring herself. She sits on a wooden stool, her skirts dusted with the dirt of the road. Despite the filth, she insists on sporting a new gown each day, no matter how extravagant. 

“What a fool? To think he is wasting his time on commoners,” she trills, “you know, he should be here, worried about his wife and queen. Not married a week and all we’ve done is ride anon. I’ve had no wedding, no feast. How I am neglected for these dirty farmers.” 

You say nothing. You’re not certain she recalls you’re there. She speaks to herself often as if her mother is there. A few times, she has even called for the duchess. Often when she’s nearly finished the bottle. 

She pouts and sniffs. She drains the cup completely and puts it down heavily on the crate next to her. She grips the mirror with both hands and looks at her reflection. She contorts her face, sucking in her cheeks, pushing out her lips, turning her head this way and that. 

“Aren’t I beautiful?” She nearly whispers. You don’t flinch. You stare at your hem. She sighs and stomps her foot, “I’m asking you!” 

You peek up at her, surprised.  

“Yes, your highness, you are very beautiful.” 

She frowns, “you lie to me.” 

“I wouldn’t lie, your highness.” 

“Don’t argue with me,” she snarls and slams the mirror down, cracking the glass on the crate. She stands and blusters around, her skirts catching between her legs, “if I am beautiful, what makes me so, hm? Tell me!” 

You stare at her. She is beautiful. You always thought so.  

“Your hair, your curls, your highness, they are beautiful.” 

She rolls her eyes, “just my hair?” 

She wobbles slightly as she struts towards you. 

“Your eyes. They are pretty too. And you have a nicely set nose. And your lips are finely curved, your highness,” you explain as she looms closer and closer. 

“Hmph,” she stops, slouching drunkenly as she leans in to consider you, “of course you would say so. Look at you. So plain. An ugly handmaid.” 

You stare back at her, a strike in your chest, then drop your gaze. It is the wine. She huffs, her alcohol-laden breath tinging your nose. 

“The king,” she babbles as she turns on her heels, swaying dangerously, “we’ve only lain together our first night. It was... quick. He didn’t want me to sleep with him,” she raises a hand and flutters her fingers, “he shooed me away like some whore.” She spins and falls onto the stool, “if I am so beautiful, why does he not want me?” 

You watch her. She isn’t looking for your answer. She’s talking to talk. Lady Rezlyn isn’t there so she has only herself and stagnant air trapped in the tent. 

“It is my duty to have his babies. To give him heirs. I cannot do that if he will not touch me. But perhaps when are in one place, he might try again,” she smiles and lifts the broken mirror. She tilts it and lets her hand drift down to your bodice. She pushes her chest up, “when he lets me take this off, he will see. He will want me.” 

She convinces herself as she preens at her reflection, “perhaps it won’t hurt.” She looks around and sees the bottle of wine. She grabs it by the neck. She grips it and wiggles it at you in the air. “He’s even thicker than this,” she puts the mirror down and balances the bottle on her palm as she circles her fingers around the bottom of the bottles neck, just before it rounds out, “and longer.” 

You stare at the silk wall, mortified by her words. She giggles and the movement of her hand draws your eyes up. You watch from under your lashes as she brings her hands up and down the bottle neck. 

“Mother says, just like this,” she pumps it, “that he should like it very much.” She stops and focuses on the bottle, “mmm, he is a man underneath it all.” She tosses the bottle away, “and I am a beautiful woman. He will want me.” 

You lower your eyes again and twine your fingers together. You can’t help but feel bad for her. You only wish you had some words of wisdom or comfort to offer her. Or that she would hear them. You can’t help but touch the fading bruise along your stomach as you languish in the tepid silence. It’s better to let her forget you. 

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #series #au #medieval au #the witcher #winter's king #dark fic #dark!fic

[erwinsvow]

you write rafe so good and like you get me like sometimes i’m reading and i’m like “how’d they know😦” so HEAR ME OUT lifeguard!reader (bc i’m a lifeguard at a few country clubs) and i think rafe would be drooling and kelce and top would make fun of him and they’d like break all the rules like back flipping off the diving board just to get readers attention

oh my god first of all i completely adore you!! im so glad yess we must be little brain twins <3 i would love to know which parts made you think that! but here is the best i could come up with for a lifeguard au which is soooo cute but imagine.. its a pogue reader...

rafe knows every pretty girl who frequents the country club, he's made a point of making sure he does. so a fresh face in the crowd stands out pretty easily, especially one like yours.

you're pretty without trying, hair tugged behind you in a ponytail and a simple red one piece, the bottoms covered with denim shorts. it's not the usual kind of outfit for the club, but maybe you're headed out by the pool or something.

he can only see you from the back, though when you turn around, he sees the white cross on the front of your swimsuit. then he sees the boy in matching red trunks next to you, the whistle around your necks and a little first-aid box in your hands. a hot life guard, it doesn't get much more stereotypical than that.

you look around the club, following the boy who can only be giving you a tour of the facilty, with curious eyes like you've never been here before. it's only then a comment from top snaps him into a frankly startling realization.

"can't believe they hire pogues for this shit. wouldn't be surprised if shit started going missing by the pool deck."

rafe thinks normally he'd throw another line in, laugh at what top's saying, but he can't find it in him today. so he keeps watching, the sweet way you smile at a little girl who stopped you to ask for a bandaid, the way you nod while taking in something else in your training.

"alright. you've been staring at that pogue girl for twenty minutes. what gives?" kelce asks finally, after rafe ignores what they've been saying to him for the third time.

"huh?" he snaps back, tearing eyes away from you to look at his idiot friends.

"don't tell me you got hots for the lifeguard. what're you, thirteen?" they laugh, but rafe doesn't.

"shut up." he stands, downing the rest of his drink. "m'goin' to the pool. you loser can come and shut up or stay here and yap."

when he finally gets out there, you've shed the shorts, looking over the kiddie section of the pool with a watchful eye, taking the responsibility of watching brats seriously. he doesn't hesitate, jumping into the deep end with a huge splash, one that gets your attention.

you walk over, making sure whoever that was didn't just fall in, when two boys yell over.

"hey! lifeguard! our friend needs help!" you turn to look back at the boy who's been training you, wondering if you should dive in or wait since you're still in training, when you hear them again.

"not him! you! in the red. hurry!" you don't hesitate, though you're confused, jumping straight in and swimming over to the boy. he doesn't look like he needs help, in fact, he looks like he's floating.

"um, excuse me-" that's all you get out when you get close to him, because he scoops you up like he's rescuing you, carrying you out of the pool like a bride. you kick your feet, yelling out. "hey! put me down! you're not even drowning!"

he sets you down, and you wipe your face, staring up at pretty blue eyes and an arrogant face, once you recognize, one that your best friends hate.

"oh. you. i should have known."

"me? yeah, heard about me, have you? only good things, i hope."

"yeah, no. what the fuck was all that? i thought you were drowning."

"yeah, i was. thanks for the help." confused, soaking wet, and not appreciating his two little sidekicks snickering behind you, you try to get away, when rafe follows.

"so, uh, how long you been working here?"

"it's my first day."

"yeah, i thought so. i never forget a pretty face, so-"

"are you serious?"

"dead serious. and yours is definitely pretty."

"rafe," you say, leaning in closer so he can hear you clearly. "stop hitting on me. i have to work. some of us actually have to work."

"know my name already, huh? what else have you heard-" you roll your eyes, he laughs.

"i heard you're a good swimmer," you say, taking another step closer.

"yeah. from who?"

"i don't know. i'm about to find out." with one hand, you push his chest, and he falls backwards into the pool, the water splashing around your feet. you laugh, watching him bob in the pool, his friends laughing too. "good talk. hope we never speak again."

rafe gets out of the pool, pushing his wet hair back. he calls out after you.

"yeah we'll see about that."

#oooo she a snippy girly #its bc she spends all her time with jayjjjjjj #if you wanted something more cutie i can make her the lifeguard in the kids section & rafe brings toddler wheeize #lmk bae #this is actually garbage lmfao itwas a fun exercise tho

[wtfsteveharrington]

take the upper hand | carmen berzatto x reader

push the reset button we're becomin' something new

description: carmen berzatto is stubborn and anxious and doesn't always know how to express himself. your best friend drags you to a party that carmen knows you'll be at and he shows up to make amends and thank god he does because he saves you from dealing with some drunk asshole.

content warnings: angsty!! drinking/party scene, shitty drunk guy w/ a shitty guy mentality!!, reader gets hit on with one night stand suggestion tones, carmen's ready to swing, mentions of anxiety and jealousy. mentions of reader drinking. kissing, mentions of intimacy related scratches, some light smut references.

author notes: my first time posting something that isn't just smut!! also something that no one but me has read!! normally i always get a proof read, not today. but this idea has been rattling around in my ole noggin' for a minute now so here we are. reminder!! you are responsible for your own media consumption!! if this won't be your jam then there's tons of other fics in the sea (: ily thank you!

even if it's handcuffed i'm leavin' here with you

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The last place you wanted to be tonight was some house party in Wicker Park. With Pitbull, of all artists, playing so loud in the basement that the floor upstairs was still vibrating. Everything was sticky and stinky and you did not wanna be here.

But your best friend was hooked on this guy from her gym. 

It didn’t help that Carmy recognized his name from high school and mumbled out some remark about, “Oh yeah, no Dave’s a pretty solid guy.” She was convinced it was a sign that they were meant to be. Not to mention she found his mom’s Facebook and a post from two years ago that included his birth time. The whole train ride over you listened to how compatible the two of them were and how much she loved that he was a Scorpio rising. 

She had begged you to come to this God forsaken party and help put in a good word for her. Something had her convinced that if you mentioned just how well you were getting to know Carmen to this Dave guy that he would hold your opinion of her in higher regards.

And sure, maybe there was a part of you that hoped Carmen would be here even while the two of you were feuding. He knew it was coming up but couldn’t promise he’d be off in time - Something you got quite used to. It normally didn’t bother you that he had so many late nights at the resturant but when it rains, it pours and now you’re stuck sitting next to the sink littered cups filled with what can only be best described as some sort of horrific finance bro jungle juice. A mix of 1942 and fresh pressed juice. 

Your nose wrinkles up at the smell but you’re quickly refocused at the booming sounds of Ethan Callaghan stumbling through the back door. Another man Carmy knew from high school but didn’t like as much. Something about always being too in-your-face. Though you were pretty sure he was close with the guy your best friend was currently hooking up with in some random bedroom down the hall. 

The second his eyes land on you there’s a lopsided smile being thrown your way as he tries to fluff his hair and stand up as straight as possible. He’s stumbling into the kitchen with a full drink in hand, droning on and on about how he was ‘just so jealous’ that your friend went into that bedroom earlier. How nice it must be to not end the night alone. No pleasantries at all, just right into the whole lonely and horny act that was grossing you out. 

No one particularly knew you and Carmy were together yet - He wasn’t the type who wanted to label right away and potentially mess things up and you weren’t the type to out your dating status to random drunken men either. Besides, you weren’t so sure that ‘I have a boyfriend’ would put an end to this pitiful man’s sob story. 

As if, on queue and manifested right out of thin air, Carmen rounds the corner and takes a second to soak in the sight in front of him. You’re sitting there with your eyes trained on the water bottle in your hands. Ethan’s yapping away about how pretty you are and how big his apartment is. An excellent view in Streeterville that you’d love to see with the best brunch place in town two blocks away blah, blah, blah. Your shoulders are hunched over, body leaning away from Ethan as he stands at the window watching his reflecting in the window above the sink. 

“Hey - Been looking for you.”

Carmen.

Your head whips around to the sight of his voice instantly. There’s a pang in your chest at the sight of him standing in front of you after you two had been apart for these last few days. He looked tired. Wearing a sweater he knows you love because he wants to look nice for you. God you wanted to run over and crash yourself against his chest. Screw the petty fight. Instead you’re stuck giving him a very pointed look, hoping he takes the hint to save you. 

He’d be lying if there wasn’t a split second where Carmen feared you were actually going to go home with this loser until he saw the panic and annoyance written across your face. Ethan’s laughing at the sight of him. “Hey, Dude. Think we’re all good here, yeah?” Oh he hates this dick. 

There’s a thick level of tension in the room as Carmen squares up his shoulders and steps further into the room. His eyes are trained on Ethan who clearly wasn’t expecting much of a fight out of Carmy. He stops when he’s standing between your knees, putting himself between the two of you. Something about the way he instantly turned possessive turned up a feeling deep in your stomach no matter how annoyed you still were. 

“Pretty sure someone out back was looking for you, Dude. It doesn’t seem like anyone in here wants you around. Now either you’re too fucking dense to realize it or you don’t care that you’re not wanted, but I’m here to let you know. So I suggest running out back and getting the fuck out of our hair.” 

Ethan’s clearly entertained while looking between the two of you, a playful glint in his eye. You’re silently begging him to walk away and find yourself bringing a hand up to put on the small of Carmen’s back. While you’ve never seen him actually fight, you’ve seen many scraps between him and Richie. Heard stories of him growing up and heard the Bachelor party story. 

You’re fine not having your own fight stories to tell. 

T-Pain is now blasting in the background and the contrast of people laughing and singing downstairs versus the situation you’ve found yourself in is making your head spin. The whole time your best friend is clueless and wrapped up in Mr. Scorpio Rising. She owes you big time. Like you’ve secured friend of the year already and she needs to throw a parade in your honor after going through this.

Ethan’s finally putting his hands up in the air, that shit eating grin still plastered across his features. “My bad, my bad. Didn’t know you were already claimed.” Claimed. Gross. Your fingers press into Carmy’s back, a silent plea to beg him not to escalate this even more. He’s laughing at the sight of the two of you before snagging a half finished bottle of vodka off the counter and backing up towards the back door. 

Carmen steps out from between your legs and follows Ethan to ensure he leaves. Shoulders pushed back, chest puffed out. You’d find the sight entertaining if you still weren’t so on edge. Carmen Berzatto, your protector. 

And sure, he’s probably just making this asshole someone else’s problem for the night but he doesn’t care. The main priority is getting you away from him and getting you safe. 

You catch the sight of his curls out of the corner of your eye when Carmen returns and instantly steel your spine. The shift in the air now that Ethan is gone was thick. He was a distraction from the distance between you two but now you’re preparing yourself for another argument when really you had no energy left to give it. There was a small worry that he’d think you gave Ethan any inclination that you were interested. Even though you two had been tense, there was never anyone else but you but him. Even if you’re too stubborn to drop that information just yet.

Carmen’s quiet. His heavy boots against the floor make your heart beat faster. Everyone had scattered out of the kitchen when he walked Ethan out of there but not before giving you two a nervous glance as they went. Some probably disappointed there wasn’t a fight if we’re being honest.

“Hey.” 

You don’t dignify him with a response. Crossing your arms over your chest and taking a sudden interest in the magnets that littered this guy’s fridge. Toying with the idea of putting the ‘Area 51 is for Lovers!’ magnet in your pocket. You figured you deserved something for going through this hell of a night. 

He stops himself once he’s reached your side, the silence awkward and thick in the air. Carmy’s hand is on your knee now, his touch not as firm as you’re used to. The whiplash of emotions once again not helping either of you know just quite where you stand. 

“M’still mad at you.” 

He winces but he knew it was coming. 

The two of you wallow in silence. Carmy’s just about to finally speak but someone stumbles in on the hunt for vodka, takes one look at the annoyance on your boyfriend’s face, before quickly muttering they’ll find it somewhere else. 

And you still won’t look at him. 

He’s grabbing at your waist now, pulling you from the counter and against his chest. You wanna protest but there’s still a buzz going through your body that makes it hard to think quick enough to push back. Plus God does he feel warm and smell so good.

Carmy’s walking backwards towards the fridge, waiting until his back is flush against it to slide down. Bringing down those magnets you wouldn’t stop staring at, family photos, whatever was in his way came with the two of you. He’s tugging you until you’re straddling his waist while he brings his knees up to support you. Grabbing a hold of your face, finally making you look at him and fuck he looks like shit close up. Dark circles, hair a little messier than he’d normally allow, a bit of fear deep in his eyes. 

“You gotta tell me how to fix this.” It’s all unfamiliar territory for him. There wasn’t exactly a good example set for him growing up to say the least. 

Four days ago Carmen watched as the barista at some coffee shop you wanted to go to flirted with you. That shit already annoyed him, but he tried to bite his tongue. Then your latte came out with a heart in the foam and you kept explaining that’s just how they all come out but he was jealous and possessive and didn’t know how to communicate that so instead the two of you fought in the car for an hour. It was so stupid and he’s been kicking himself in the ass ever since. 

The past four days you refused to talk to him and had done a good job at dodging the situation. Normally you two fight, you fuck, and then you pretend everything’s okay. The cycle was getting old and wearing you down.

Until now. 

You give a heavy sigh, reaching out to toy with the bottom hem of his shirt. Carmy really did look like it had been going through it so you’re throwing him a small bone. “Maybe not making me sit on a sticky floor would be a good start.” He’s muttering out this small laugh, thankful to hear anything coming out of your mouth let alone a joke, the sound vibrating against your fingertips and you hate how much it fills your heart. 

He waits for the rest. The other shoe to fall. Every ounce of laughter is gone when you finally collect yourself enough for - “Do you think we’re good together, Carmen?” You can feel him stiffen under you, his hands gripping at your waist because he needs something to give him some stability. 

A beat goes by. “I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Another beat, this time it’s Carmy who refuses to look at you. Eyes downcast and trained on your lap. “But I’m not sure I’m good for you.” You weren’t expecting that. 

Once again silence falls between the two of you, still toying with the hem of his shirt before you lean in to bury your face in the crook of his neck. Taking a deep breath that’s filled with his cologne, faint smoke, and just Carmen that you’ve grown to crave. “You just gotta learn to trust me, Carmen. Outta everyone in this world, I’m the main one who never wants to hurt you. Especially for some barista with a fuckin’ comb over.” 

You hoped he would laugh again, but the sound never comes. Instead you feel his arms go tight around your body, his knees coming up a bit more which makes you fully lean into his chest. He’s clinging to you, wishing so badly he knew what to say (or could let himself) say what he knows he needs to. Instead he’s just pressing a kiss ​​to your head, sighing into your hair. 

“I wanna be better for you. Just don’t know how.” 

The two of you cling to each other and fight to get as close as possible. The distance apart these past four days has left the both of you physically aching for one another. It’s been hours, days of a tense heart and checking phones for texts neither of you knew how to send. You press a kiss against his neck, leaning back just enough to grab his face in your hands and stroke your thumbs over his cheeks. 

“It’s scary for me too, y’know? This, us. You’re not alone in being scared but lashing out at me isn’t gonna solve anything. I’m not going anywhere, Carmy.” You take the first step in mending the relationship by leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. There’s a hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place as if he’s still scared you’re going to change your mind and run off before he can realize it’s happening. 

He’s letting you take the lead and only deepening the kiss once he feels your hands slide under his shirt. Fingers trailing along the toned skin while Carmey licks your bottom lip. Your hands glide around his back where you’re able to trace over healing scratches left on the skin from your last night together. 

Your lips part and you take the lead once again, letting your tongue slide along his and giving a low moan into his mouth as you taste him. There’s the lingering taste of cigarettes mixed with black coffee and Carmen. Once again indescribable and simply him. His grip on you tightens up in response and you know if you’re not careful then you’ll end up disheveled and tangled up in the backseat of his car or bent over one of the sinks in a disgusting bathroom. Both options you refuse to pick over getting home and letting him properly make this up to you. 

Dragging your nails along the healing marks, Carmen starts to lose track of his kissing. His grip on your neck tightening a bit more, hips rocking up towards you against his better judgement. The motion’s getting needy and sloppy and you have to pull away much to both of your disappointment. 

Shaking your head and bringing your hands up to rest flush against his warm chest. “You’re not gonna fuck me on this nasty floor. I deserve better than this.” Which, of course you do. He just gets carried up when he’s wrapped up in you. He’s nodding in agreement but can’t stop himself from licking his own lips to chase the sensation of you.

He’s looking over your features, his heart picking up pace even more than he thought was possible anymore. “Think you’re meant to be my forever, y’know? Sometimes I look at you and it scares the shit out of me because I look ahead and-... It’s you. Kids sitting at a table in the restaurants doing homework. A honeymoon overseas where I get to drag you around different pasty shops and restaurants and we’ll find random art in flea markets to hang when we get home. Take photos that end up framed. It’s you. Always.” 

Now how are you supposed to be mad when he’s this open and honest. Unpacking a future you had thought only you considered so far. You hope this behavior sticks. It’s not easy for either of you, but it’s worth fighting through the learning curve. “Kids, huh? Multiple? They’ll be your harshest critics, Carmy. I dunno if you can handle their reviews quite yet.” He’s chuckling, shaking his head with a lazy smile. “No, not yet. But one day.” The promise of more between you finally putting an end to this discussion for now. You make a mental note to remember this moment when the two of you bicker in the future - No matter what there’s always more on the road ahead of you. 

Which makes you smile too. Wrapping your arms around his neck. “One day.” You reward him with one more kiss, knowing that’s all the two of you can risk before you end up sprawled out on this floor. 

Carmy’s desperate to keep the lightened mood. He’s giving it a moment for both of you to calm back down from kissing before playfully scrunching up his face. “God you taste like shitty tequila.” It works. You’re laughing and swatting your hand against his chest, feeling a bit lighter than you did when you walked into this place. “Carmen Berzatto be nice to me!” 

He’s beaming at you now. Bright, happy. 

It’s a stark difference from the funk you’d both been stuck in since this fight started. The sight makes your heart swell and you bring a hand up to push some curls back off of his forehead. Leaning in to press a kiss against the tip of his nose. 

“Lemme take you home, yeah? Get you some food on the way? Gotta make sure someone so pretty doesn’t wake up with a hangover.” He loves taking care of you in anyway you'll let him.

You nod and carefully start to shuffle off of his lap. Getting yourself to your feet before reaching down to help tug Carmen up to his feet. You catch as he adjusts himself in his pants, a flush blooming along his cheeks and down his neck. Stepping back in until you’re chest to chest with him, you press a line of kisses along his jaw. Rough stubble going away once you find his lips yet again. You hum against his mouth, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek. “You gotta shave in the morning, Carmy.” He’s nodding instantly, reaching his hand down into his pocket to fish out the car keys. 

There’s a notification lighting up your phone - Perfect timing. A simple “Gonna spend the night ;)” text from your best friend. You can’t help but to grin and roll your eyes, turning the phone around so Carmen can see the notification too. He’s laughing while sliding a hand into your back pocket and starting to lead the two of you out of the kitchen. 

“Yeah, remind me to tell Dave that his friend fuckin’ sucks.” 

#why am i nervous to post this #♡: c.b. #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto

[railingsofsorrow]

don't walk out

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: “we can fight and we can be mad but we can't leave.”  pairing: s.reid x gn!reader  w.c: 1K warnings/content: implied abandoned issues; argument; silent treatment (brief); language; angst.  A/N: guess I'm on a roll today. I just love some angst. 

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

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“is that supposed to make me feel better?”  

lights had barely been turned on when you spat out a response, breaking the tense silence. your apartment was tidy, nothing out of order, even the pillows where settled two on each edge of the couch like you always did before leaving for work.  

it was the expected. three days away on a case didn't exactly mean your house would turn upside down, would it? unanimated things didn't move on their own. but one thing that was turning upside down was your mood. not only did the journey home came with lots of turbulence, but Spencer had to make an unpleasant comment that made your blood boil. was it wrong that you just wanted to not look at him right now? you were even considering not sleeping beside him tonight. 

“for fucks sake.” you mumbled under your breath when he had stayed silent. he's ignoring you now. great. throwing your work bag on the couch, you didn't even take your shoes off as you moved back toward the door. you can't handle his passive aggressive act and you certainly won't handle his silence treatment.  

“where are you going?” he called out, shuffling out of the bedroom upon hearing the sound of keys dangling. no. no, you're not leaving, are you? “what—” 

“i'm gonna take a walk, spencer.” 

it didn't take a second for him to rush over and stop your exit by blocking the door. “what are the car keys for then?” desperation clouded his tone and you felt guilt building up in your chest, but it wasn't bigger than your frustration.  

“I'm gonna drive.” 

“at this time of the night? you hate driving at night.” 

“are you my father?” he almost flinched at your sharp tone. okay, he deserved that hostility. he's been nothing but rude to you the entire jet ride back home. it's not that you did anything — even if you had done something, it does not justify the way he was treating you —, the case had been hard. it involved kids. the team wasn't fast enough. he wasn't fast enough. you almost got hurt. it was a lot to absorb in a short amount of time.  

he never wanted this: you walking out while you were mad at each other. no. you had made a deal long ago. you both were laughing after your first stupid argument, something about forgetting to fold the laundry.  

“okay, but we can be like this, right?” you said, nudging him. “we can fight and we can be mad but we can't leave.” 

his eyes soften and he almost turns to mush. he understood then that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. and yes. you would be mad and you would upset each other but leaving was off the table. he could do that. there was nothing he'd want more. 

but now he'd cross a line. didn't he? how dare he do that? how dare he cause you do want to walk out? 

“i'm sorry.” spencer is still at the doorway when you ask him to move. he won't move. he can't. “i really am. I shouldn't have said that. it was out of line.” 

“really?” you snap. he hears the edge in your voice and the crack. it breaks him. he just wants to hold you, he never meant—means to hurt you. “then why did you? why would you even think about something like that?”  

he holds back his breath of relief once you've put the keys back in the bowl. the lump in his throat diminishing slightly. 

“i was upset. angry— at the case. the whole situation, not you.“ he clarified. “sweetheart, i'm sorry. I didn't mean it.” you're searching his face for some indication of lie that you won't find. “i'm sorry.” 

“you're an idiot.” your anger is gone, there's just frustration now. maybe at yourself, because you can't really stay mad at him as he stares at you with those eyes.  

“i am,” he admits, no ounce of hesitation in his tone. he's fairly certain he is, in fact, an idiot. “i'm sorry.” he repeats and he will repeat over and over again until you forgive him. he will beg if he has to. “don't leave, please.” 

and that is not fair. it's not. he can't make you mad and say sorry and all will be forgiven. he can't look at you with those eyes and think things will be magically fixed. 

but then your armor cracks. suddenly, his behaviour makes sense. 

we can fight and we can be mad but we can't leave. 

“i wasn't going to—” you're ashamed at this point. you were so blinded by anger that you'd do something you promised to never do. “you know I wouldn't leave, right?” then his desperation in reaching the door before you makes sense and you're taken back to the moment you promised not to walk out in a fight. that's exactly what you where about to do.  

“i'm sorry.” you say, staring at the keys in your hands. “i didn't think before acting.”  

spencer nods slowly, taking a step closer towarss your frame. “and I didn't think before speaking. I'm the one that should be sorry.” 

you caught a glimpse at his twitchy fingers and takes one of his hands into your own, letting the keys slip to the floor as you yank him to your arms. he only complies by squeezing you against him. and finally, both of you have what you've been craving since this case started: each other's comfort.  

and then, you repeat. “i wasn't going to leave, you know that, right?”  

“yeah.” he burries his face into your neck and his voice is muffled by your skin. “yeah, I know.” 

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taglist: @lilyviolets ; @whore-for-spencer-reid ; @yeonalie @ninkieminjaj ; 

#spencer reid blurb #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #reader insert #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic

[dwyntwo]

I like to think that Kaz is sort of like Wylan's and Jesper's cat. Like they hear some small noise downstairs at 3 AM, and they'll roll their eyes and say "It's Kaz again".

One day Wylan leaves the house and screams in terror because Kaz is casually chilling on the roof. "For a better view on my targets," he says. What targets does he mean? No idea. How did he get up there? No one knows. Can he get down on his own? No. Will he climb up again tomorrow? Absolutely.

He comes by- uninvited!- just to eat their food, and when they ask him to stop, he gives the "You told me to take better care of myself!" response. Oh, and he pushes things off tables, just to be an asshole. Once Kaz is more comfortable and has learned to trust his friends and be vulnerable around them, they randomly find him napping in strange places of the house as if he pays rent.

When he's sick or hurt, he hides and hisses when approached.

Sometimes he kidnaps people that annoy or threaten Wylan and Jesper and drops them at their doorsteps. As gifts ❤

The final straw is when one day Wylan and Jesper plan to take a romantic bath together, and when they enter the bathroom- surprise!- Kaz is already in the bathtub with a glass of brandy in his hand, having the audacity to look scandalized and be like "Can you KNOCK?!"

It has come to the point where he's their mean, murderous, asshole roommate who just eats all their food and breaks all their locks constantly lol

#i know i made this post already but I had so much more to add to it #so i decided to make another one lol #crooked kingdom #kaz brekker #six of crows #soc #jesper fahey #wylan van eck