#How to reach Statue of Liberty

[travarcflights]

Statue of Liberty, New York – Icon of Freedom and Hope

The Statue of liberty was erected on the island of liberty in New York Harbor and is arguably one of the most well-known monuments in the entire world and an inspirational reminder of liberty, democracy and opportunities. It is a gigantic neoclassic sculpture given as a present of the French people in 1886 and that every year is visited by millions of tourists. Travelers can also go on ferry to the island and visit Liberty Museum also they should be able to get to the crown to get a panoramic view of New York City and the harbor.

The statue of liberty is a must-see destination to any one who wants to visit the United States. It provides something more than a photo opportunity, it is an opportunity to get closer to a deeper American history and heritage. Travarc.in helps you to book a cheap flight to New York and compare airfare internationally and plan visits to Liberty Island in an easy manner. It does not matter whether you are travelling from India or within the U.S., travelarc makes your trip to one of the greatest icons in the world a journey to be remembered as simple, cheap and convenient. Image credit: Statue of liberty

[queen-mabs-revenge]

This is a notification about SpideyTorch. Did you know sometimes they sit together on a torch? Really makes you think!

damn it really does gays truly will do anything to avoid sitting on a normal seat huh?

[fluffyfluffytime]

Look Up In The Sky! Is It A Bird? Is It A Plane? No It's... (Part 1) | Bob Reynolds x fem!Reader

Chapter summary: Bob's choice of outfit makes Yelena and Ava suspicious. What better way to find out than to follow him

Author's Note: The idea for this series has been haunting my head. I need to let it out. If there are any writing errors please do let me know, I'm sloppy when it comes to editing... Anyways, enjoys

The TV screen flickered to life, the evening news blaring through the Watchtower’s common room. A newscaster, lips painted red, smile wide and voice joyful, quite a dichotomy given she was speaking over footage of a burning building down in Queens.

“New York, home to the marvellous sights such as the Statue of Liberty, Empire State, and Avengers Towers, may have its astonishing sight yet– a guardian angel.” The reporter said, “Just ask Mrs. Lockheart, who says an angel rescued her from a burning building”

The screen cut to a frail old lady sat on her wheelchair.

”There was fire everywhere”, her elderly voice trembled “I wanted to escape, but I couldn’t, the door were stuck. I passed out, and when I had awoken, I was outside, on a bench. And just as vision started to become clearer, there she was, her wings fiery red, an angel. I was about to thank her, but then she flew off.” Tear-welled in her eyes as she dabbed them with a floral handkerchief ,“If you’re watching this right now, thank you, thank you so much”

Yelena snorted from the couch. “Senile,” she muttered, as she wiped down the blood from her knife, her tactical gear slightly unzipped, the grime from the week mission covered her collar.

“Reaistically speaking” John said, slouched beside her, tossing his dirt covered shield onto the floor, “If there was truly an angel flying around New York, there’d at least be CCTV footage” Ava huffed, peeling her gloves and dropping them onto the coffee table, “This joke of a news is what valentina so urgently wants us to watch” she rolled her eyes “she didn’t even give us time to change” 

“Yeah” John said, reaching for the remote, “she just loves wasting our time”

Alexei lounged across the recliner, not caring that the filth on his uniform would stain the chair “Put on something realistic, like Terminator. I’m done listening to this fairytale bullshit”

The sound of approaching footsteps turned all their heads.

Bob stepped in, dressed in a white shirt, a pair of blue jeans and a leather jacket— an unusual choice for him. 

“Did you mix up your laundry with Bucky’s” John asked, pointing at him

“Uh- no”, Bob responded, awkwardly adjusting the jacket.

“Then why are you dressed up like him?” Ava eyed his choice of fashion.

Bob shrugged, “I just wanted to try something new” 

“What kind of monster wears leather and denim just to leisure?” Yelena raised an eyebrow.

“No, I’m actually heading out for a bit”, Bob casually announced

Ava raised a brow. “Where?”

“A diner”

Alexei bolstered. “Why? We have perfectly good food in the fridge”

He got up from his seat to the fridge, with a dramatic swing of the fridge, inside showed a pathetic sight. Inside sat a half-empty carton of milk, mould-flecked broccoli and a lone chicken leg with a suspicious bite mark.

Ava turned to John and smacked his shoulder. “Weren’t you supposed to do the groceries before the mission?”

“Ouch” he winced “Look i was preoccupied!”

Yelena slapped his other shoulder. “You left Bob with an empty fridge”

Ava slapped his shoulder again “We’re suppose to have spaghetti tonight, how are we suppose to cook if there is nothing in the fridge”

John threw his arms up and groaned “Okay, okay! I’ll go now! Just let me change!”

As John stomped off to his room, Bob awkwardly pointed to the elevator, "I'm gonna head out now”

Yelena sighed, the mission did leave her feeling abit peckish. “Since there’s nothing in the fridge, maybe i’ll come too– ”

“No!”

Three heads turned towards him in surprise

Bob stammered, waving his hands. “It’s just that…um…the food there’s is kinda bad. I only really go there for the milkshakes. They’re great. But not like, worth the 30 minutes walk great, and… you guys just got back from the mission, so must be exhausted”

“But–”

“Right! See ya!”

With that, Bob bolted into the elevator, mashing the button as if it would make the doors close faster.

WIth the elevator now shut, Alexei let out a huff, plopping himself back on to the recliner, “Ha! Always blushing and stuttering that one. Whatever will we do”

Ava and Yelena exchanged a glance

“Oh, he’s definitely hiding something, let’s follow him”, Yelea muttered

“Still have that tracker on him?” Ava asked

“Oh yeah”

Ava cracked her neck and stood “Let’s change first. My suit stinks” 

Alexei with his eyes shut, grunted “Bring me back a milkshake”

—

Walking through the diner’s door, the bell jingled above him, drawing the attention of a few patrons. The diner had that old school vibe– checkered floors, red vinyl booths and an old juke box that was mainly used for decorative purposes.

It was 2.37 p.m– perfect timing. The aftermath of the lunch hour rush left only a few patrons. An old man sipping his coffee near the entrance, a mother entertaining her baby in one of the booth, a pair of teenagers at the counterseat with their textbooks out. 

Bob exhaled in relief. His favorite booth—tucked into the back corner—was still free. To him, it was the perfect spot: private, with a clear view of the whole restaurant.

Sliding into his seat, Bob felt his heart pounding against his chest. Trying to relax, he closed his eyes and used those breathing exercises he found online.

Breath in 

Hold. One, two three.

Breath out 

“You got this” he murmured.

“Got what?”

His eyes snapped open. Across from the table sat Yelena and Ava, now dressed in their casual wear with eyebrows raised in near-identical expression of amusement.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, stiffening.

“Well food here may be crap” Ava said, stretching her arms out across the booth, “but we’re also craving for some milkshake” 

“Please leave I—“

“Why? Do you hate us?” Yelena tilted her head with a playful frown.

“No, I—“

“Oh hey, Bob” a waitress called, walking over. Her messy (y/h/c) hair was bundled into an updo, and her thick rimmed glasses slid a little down her nose. Just like the dinner’s retro interior, her uniform fit with the aesthetic- A red button up tucked into a black skirt with a white apron tied around her waist. The nametag on her chest read (y/n).

“Hey”, Bob replied, trying to play it cool as he tucked his hand under his jaw.

“Glad to see you again” She smiled brightly, then glanced at the two women across from him “And who do we have here?” 

“Friend! Just friends!” Bob quickly blurted.

“Oh! Bob mentioned you guys before– Selena and Eve, right?”

Yelena and Ava chuckled. 

“Yelena” Yelena pointed to herself, then to the brunette “Ava”

“Sorry, my bad” the waitress said, lightly smacking her forehead with her pen. “I’m just really bad with names. First few times he came in, i kept calling him Todd instead of Bob”

Pulling out a notebook from her apron, pen on the paper, “Anyways, what can  get you guys”

Yelena and Ava buried their faces in the menu, but really, their attention was focused on Bob, particularly the way he was looking at the waitress.

“Hey,” she leaned closer to Bob, lowering her voice, “I just finished the book you lent me”

Bob perked up. “Yeah? What do you think of the ending”

“Oh, i loved it!”

“Right?” he let out his typical bashful smile.

“The audacity of the people of Goodreads to say that the ending was too complicated”

“I know, right?”

They both laughed, sharing a look that was definitely more than just waitress and customer.

Yelena clear her throat, loudly.

The waitress blinked, remembering the other guest. “Right! Orders! What can I get you?”

“I’ll have the BLT sandwich” Ava said.

“You know what, since I skipped out on breakfast, I’ll have the all-day breakfast spread. Oh, Ava, don’t forget the milkshake– Bob would not shut up about it"

“Strawberry for me”, Ava added.

“Vanilla,” Yelena said.

The waitress nodded and jotted everything down. “And you, Bob?”

“Yes?” he asked, blinking out of his thoughts

“You wanna try something new or…”

“No, just the usual please”

The waitress walks away, heading to the kitchen with the order slip.

Bob eyes followed her, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly– probably unaware just how goofy his smile looks. 

A pair of stifled laughs broke his train of thought.

“What are you really doing here” Bob asked, in a hushed tone.

“When Yelena mentioned she wanted to follow, you were a bit too anxious” Ava shrugged, tone playful “We just wanted to make sure you were all fine and dandy” 

Yelena’s blue eyes shifted sideways “And it seems that you are more than dandy”

Bob followed his gaze, which landed back on the waitress, who was now taking orders at another table. She let out a laugh, head tilted back slightly, it seemed like the customer had a good sense of humour, or you probably just wanted to be as hospitable as possible. 

“How long have you fancied her?” Yelena asked casually.

Bob raised his hand up in defense “No– it’s not like that”

“Then why are you blushing?” the blonde pointed out, smirking.

Bob grabbed the spoon on the table and stared at the distorted image. Yelena was right– his face and ears were practically red. Flustered, he tugged at the collar of his leather jacket, trying to cool himself. But it was futile. He was red because he was caught red-handed, no amount of cooling could fix this. 

“Sooo… how long” Ava tilted her head, grinning.

Bob hesitated, then mumbled, “I realised I liked her about a month ago”

Both girls made an exaggerated and simultaneous hmmmmm

“And the outfit?” Yelena gestured to his getup.

“She once mentioned that she thought guys who can pull off a leather jacket are hot”, Bob muttered.

Ava tilted her head sideways, with a confused face, “But you're not really pulling it off” 

“Ava”, Yelena scolded.

“What? Just look at how uncomfortable he looks in that thing, he keeps adjusting it”

“I mean, she does have a point”, Yelena agreed with a sympathetic wince

Bob looked down at himself “Do I really look that bad?

“Not bad” Yelena said “it's just that you just don’t look…”

“...like yourself,” Ava finished.

Bob opened his mouth, but was cut off by the waitress returning balancing two trays with ease.

“Okie Dokie” she chirped. “A breakfast platter for Yelena, a BLT for Ava, for Bob his usual and milkshakes all around. Enjoy!”

But just as waitress was about to walk away, she paused and tilted her head, concern flickering across her expression.

“Bob, are you okay? Your face is super red. Can you not feel the AC for here?” She looked up and raised her hands to the ceiling vent above them. “Should I move you guys to a cooler spot?”

Before Bob could answer, Yelena jumped in. “Oh, no it’s just the jacket. Leather. A bit too hot for him– he’s suffering for fashion”

Bob opened his mouth to protest. “I’m fine, really”

“Awww, you should totatlly take it off” the waitress broke into a teasing grin “Show off those strong biceps of yours. It’s a better look on you”

Bob nearly choked on his saliva. Meanwhile, Yelena and Ava were given each other side glances, as if they were telepathically communicating with one another.

“Right?” Yelena added, smirking at him. “Would be a shame to keep those arms hidden”

The waitress simply chuckled. “Well let me know if you need anything” and with that she walked off to collect another order.

Bob groaned, his face even more redder, buried into his hands. “I hate all of you”

“No, you don’t” Yelena responded as she took a sip of her milshake. Her expression shifted “Okay, that is really good”

Ava proceeded to take a sip from her milkshake, her eye widen. “Damn”

Bob lifted his head just enough to glance at them, pride sneaking into his voice “I know right?”

Ava nodded thoughtfully with a sly grin. “Alright, I get… her milkshakes really do bring all the boys to the yard”

Yelena tilted her head. “What yard? There is no yard. We are in diner”

Bob burst into laughter, shoulders shaking as he covered his face again. “Yelena—no–”

His laugh was just to contagious, Ava couldn’t help but to giggle as well.

Yelena sat there, with her arm up in confusion. 

Their meal together was relatively calm, trading bits of conversation between bites. Nothing deep, just idle chatter about the movies Bob has been watching, Ava’s newest training regimen and Yelena complaining about Alexei gratuitous purchase of Wheeties. Eventually, they were down to their last bite of their meals. Finally, they washed it down with thick sugary sips.

Yelena was the first to bring it up.

“So are you gonna ask her out?” She asked as she lived the whipped cream clean off her straw

Bob nearly choked. He set down his glass, coughing into his hand. “I don’t know… is now even the best time?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Ava asked brow furrowed.

Bob hesitated, twiddling his thumbs, his eyes on small amount of shake left at the bottom of his cup. “What if the other guy comes out”

Yelena’s face sobereed. “It’s been over eight months since the incident. He hasn’t shown up since and we’re not giving him any reason too”

“Yeah, but what if he did” Bob said, his voice quiter now. “And what if next time next time, we’re unable to stop him”

“Hey, now,” Ava cuts in gently. “I’m hearing a lot of ifs here. These are all hypothetical situation. You’re letting all these made-up scenarios get the best of you”

“It isn’t also the what ifs” he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s also what happened. She doesn’t know that the black-out event happened because of me. I’ll eventually will have to tell her, what if she doesn’t take it well”

Yelena leaned in “You’re asking her on a date, not to marry you. See how the first date goes, then we can worry about the what-ifs”

Bob looked at the both of them, still unsure– but the weight in his shoulder had lessened just a little bit.

“Alright”

Yelena clapped her hands together. “Great! When you pay, you ask her out on date”

Bob blined. “Wait–”

“No waiting. No backing out. We will wait outside,” Yelena said, already sliding out of the booth.

Ava followed suite. “You got this,” she whispered to him.

Before Bob could say anything, they were both already out the door, the bell above the diner jingling behind them as the left.

Outside, Yelena stuffed her hands into her pocket, eyeing a pair of birds sitting on the window’s ledge. “ So when do you think we’ll start getting wedding invites. I say six months”

Ava chuckled. “Wedding? Marriage would be awfully too soon wouldn’t it”

Yelena shrugged, “Bob always striked me as someone who’d get married as soon as he found the one”

Ava glanced at the diner's window, trying to peek in, but from where they stood neither waitress or Bob was visible. “What makes you think she’s ‘the one’”

Yelena chuckled. “She is very much woman”

Ava furrowed her brow, “What does that mean?”

Just as Yelena was about to elaborate, the bell of the door had jingled.

Bob stepped out, and yet their smiles faded.

They expected him to walk out with a goofy grin. Instead, his eyes were rimmed red and his lashes damp.

Yelena stepped forward. “What happened”

Bob kept his eyes ahead, jaws tight. “She said she couldn’t. Not that she didn’t want to” he muttered, “She’s got club activities, classes, that and her part time job. She said she doesn't have the time to date”

Yeleba’s voice soften. “Bob, I’m sorry”

“It’s fine. Really” he said quickly, too quickly.

But they both saw it, the way his throat bobbed as if he was trying to swallow down the pain. The way his brows twitched. The tears in his eye were swelling. He turned, walking ahead of them 

“Let’s just go”

His steps were longer now–purposefully so. 

It wasn’t just about wanting to get home asap. It was so that they wouldn’t notice the tears that slipped down his cheeks.

The women didn’t say anything. 

They just followed 

[lovemepartly]

goddess ✩ lee myung-gi

warnings: 18+, smut. oral (f!receiving). mentions of negative body image / self talk. 

a/n: based on this request! i kind of hate this but whatever😭 and yim siwan please ruin my life (who said that)

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

you splashed cold water on your face, eyes blinking. you looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, eyes unreadable, but your mind was racing.

myung-gi had just gotten back from a trip, one he’d been invited to due to his growing youtube channel. it was in the states, and myung-gi had left with a kiss and promised to bring you back something cool. he had, a little snow globe of the statue of liberty, and also a ton of expensive clothes.

he’d called you one night— well, your morning— rambling about some expensive shopping mall he’d found in the city and how he’d bought hundreds of dollars worth of clothes.

you jokingly scolded him, reminding him that you didn’t need all that expensive designer stuff anyway. you’d been his girlfriend for a couple years now, since before he started his youtube channel, after all. he’d merely laughed in response, mentioned something about needing to buy an extra suitcase, and hung up the call.

he got back in seoul yesterday, eyes bright as he showed you everything he’d bought. and now here you were, trying on the clothes for him. you’d surely been in the bathroom for a while now, myung-gi waiting in the bedroom for you to come back out. but you just couldn’t.

he’d insisted that you tried on this one dress first— his favorite, he said. it was short, light pink, and somewhat flowed out at the bottom. it wasn’t that the dress didn’t fit you, it just looked off. bad. the color seemed to wash you out and the white embroidery seemed like it was pointing arrows at all of your insecurities.

“jagi?” myung-gi’s voice called out, snapping you out of your daze. “you okay?”

you sighed softly, taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, face contorting into something of a mix of disgust and pain, before turning the bathroom doorknob open and walking into the bedroom.

myung-gi was still sitting on the bed waiting for you, but his eyes lit up immediately as you stepped out. “jesus, that dress… i knew it would look so good on you.”

his reaction alone was enough to break a small smile out of you as you approached him. his hands instinctively reached for your waist, tugging you closer to him as he looked up at you. despite his reaction, though, you couldn’t shake the feelings of how bad you looked. “i’m not sure i like it.” you murmured softly, one hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair out of his face.

he frowned softly, his head turning slightly, eyes still fixed on you. “why? you look so good.”

you shrugged softly, hand caressing his face. “just… don’t like the way it looks on me.” you said, voice soft that the sentence came out in a whisper.

“jagi…” myung-gi hummed, taking both of your hands in his and bringing them up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to them, “you’re so beautiful. i wish you could see yourself in my eyes.”

you couldn’t help the small smile that once again flickered across your lips. even though you didn’t feel like it, his words seemed so genuine.

“seriously, jagiya,” myung-gi said again, his fingers tracing over your hands carefully like he was committing every soft curve of them to memory, “you’re like a goddess.”

he tugged you down to sit next to him on the bed, one hand cupping your face as he leaned in to kiss you. it was soft and sweet, but within moments, his mouth was moving feverishly against yours, one hand slipping just under the fabric of your dress on your thigh.

his hand moved up to grip your waist, gently pushing you down onto the bed, his body hovering over yours. his kisses moved from your mouth to the corner of your lips, your cheeks, your jaw, then down your neck, like he was worshipping you— every inch of you.

“i… love you…” myung-gi breathed between kisses against your skin, like he was marking the words into your body like tattoo, as he trailed his kisses further down to your chest.

his hands roamed over your body, finding the zipper at the back of the dress, and fumbling to tug it down. you giggled softly at his attempt, sitting up to help him, as he pulled the dress over your head.

his mouth messily trailed down your stomach, pressing kisses on it every so often. your hand instinctively reached down to tangle into his hair, tugging on his soft locks.

myung-gi’s fingers hooked on the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs in one smooth motion and discarding on the floor.

his kisses moved to your inner thighs, getting increasingly close to your already soaking core, but not quite. you whimpered something about needing him, tugging on his hair lightly, and myung-gi’s eyes flickered up to look at you with a small smile.

he hooked your legs over his shoulders and pressed one soft kiss to your core, before licking one long, teasing strip over your folds. you whimpered at the sensation, back arching instinctively to try to feel more of him.

he started slow, his tongue flicking over your core in careful movements. every sensation made you gasp, the hand tangled in his hair tugging ever so slightly. myung-gi’s mouth came to your clit, fingers spreading open your folds, as he began sucking on your nub.

the sensation made you cry out his name. he used one hand to hold open your thighs which were already shaking and desperately trying to clamp around his head, and moved his other hand to your core, inserting two fingers into you.

almost within moments you came undone around his tongue, legs shaking, and whimpering his name. myung-gi pulled away from you, wiping his mouth, and removing his fingers from you, which were soaking.

“taste, baby.” he murmured softly, brushing a piece of hair off your forehead, and bringing his fingers to your mouth.

you parted your lips for him, sucking on his fingers and tasting yourself.

“see that, jagi? you taste so sweet.” myung-gi murmured, eyes fixed on your face and your lips wrapped around his fingers.

you hummed around his fingers in response, and he drew them from your mouth, wiping the spit off your bottom lip with his thumb. he leaned in to kiss you, soft and sweet, hand cupping your face.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, lips brushing yours when he pulled away, “so, so beautiful.”

[mechncheese]

Do you have any tips for drawing transformers/simplifying transformer designs :0?? Your art retains their 3-dimensionality without sacrificing their posability and all this while using 'simple' looking shapes, it's genuinely very satisfying to look at

Thank you ! One of the biggest challenges for me when I first got into drawing transformers was trying to keep their movement from being too stiff while keeping their design robot-like so I'm glad that it reads as fluid to people !

I'm used to drawing organic characters, working with simpler designs, and emphasizing movement and flow so this was definitely new territory for me !

I'll talk about my simplification process below !

The easiest way to go about simplifying transformer designs is reducing them to their basic shapes and then building them back up. You can see it a lot in G1. Since G1 characters are designed to be animated (and also look like toys) they can't make their designs too complex so it makes a good starting point when breaking bots down.

The comic designs are a different story. Because it's a different medium, artists can go ham with details.

IDW Thundercracker has a lot going on ! You can see all his mechanics and joints, he looks a bit overwhelming to draw !

G1 Thundercracker is more blocky and simplified, definitely less intimidating to draw, he's mostly just cubes

When I simplify transformers, I break them down and then gradually add details. I think about it like carving out a statue, you have your block of marble and you carve out details until you're happy. You definitely do NOT need to draw every detail, I always leave out a bunch of detailed parts in favor of simplicity.

Let's simplify IDW Thundercracker, if you break him down into shapes, he is also just cubes. The red underneath is my initial sketch and the blue outline is just there to show the shapes.

It also helps to have an understanding of perspective and the way 3D shapes work.

I'd say this is the base for him ! He follows almost the same base as g1, we're keeping it blocky but I do take liberty to taper parts of the body like towards the knees and or along the arms to give my pose some fluidity. Then we shove on his details bit by bit

A lot of it is just picking and choosing design elements you like about a character and finding ways to make it fit onto the design. Thundercracker's IDW design has these cool ribs that go along his torso and I tried to include that while simplifying it.

Something I try to avoid is shoving as Many details as possible onto a design. It can make the design look cluttered and busy and that might be good if that's what you're going for but it's just not for me. I find that more details make it harder to pose my robots so I keep it minimal.

Applying color also gives you a good look at how much room your design has. Here's TC colored !

I could stop here and call him done but I think he looks a bit too spacious so I'm going to add some more details. Here's where I get a bit wild and kind of just do what I want. For me, the references are a base and as I get further along down the design I add seasoning to taste. More plating, different hues and colors, bits and baubles, and artistic flare. Here's where I wind up !

I'm happy with this ! I think Anymore detail and he would be a bit too cluttered (his wings are already reaching the Clutter Point for me)

As you draw more and more designs you'll develop an eye for what you like ! The world is your oyster and you can always go back and redesign/adjust !

[theclowningbusiness]

A Necessary Conversation

Pairing: Logan Howlett (X2) x Reader 

Tropes: Shy girl, flirty guy

Warnings: Kissing

Other tags: Logan being hot, reader is a mutant but there are no details about what her mutation is/does, nobody good dies bc I said so, fuck Stryker tho, mention of reader almost falling off the Statue of Liberty in X1, mention of reader shaving her legs (is that even something I need to add HELP LMAO)

Background: You’re a mutant living at the x-mansion and you’ve had eyes on Logan ever since he first arrived.

Description: Logan returns from his solo trip to Alkali Lake and you greet him at the door. You manage to embarrass yourself, but thankfully you get interrupted by Marie. Later, you run into Logan again, but before the conversation can go too far, you’re interrupted by Stryker showing up at the mansion. When the dust finally settles, you and Logan finally get the chance to talk.

    You’d been waiting for Logan to come back since the day he left. He’d given you his dog tags the day he left, asking you to keep them safe for him. Since then, you've carried them with you everywhere.

    While you were in your room working on something that Charles wanted you to take a look at, you swore you could hear the sound of Scott’s motorcycle outside. That couldn’t be, Logan had taken it for his trip. There was no way.

   Getting up from where you’d been sitting in your bed, you made your way over to the window and peeked out. When you saw Logan climbing off of the motorcycle, your eyes lit up. Unable to help yourself, you rushed out of your room and down the hall. As you reached the steps, you went down two at a time.

    By the time you made it to the front door, Logan was standing there, his bag still slung over his shoulder. He looked just the same as he had when he left, which was really no surprise. When he spotted you, he gave you a small smile.

    You ran towards him, nearly tackling him in a bear hug. Your arms wrapped over his shoulders, while his responded by wrapping around your waist. Not wanting to be clingy, you let go before too much time could pass.

    “You miss me?” He asked with a smile, which, knowing Logan, was really more of a smirk.

    “We all did,” you replied, not wanting to make it seem like you had missed him any more than anyone else, even if you had.

    “How have things been here?” He hummed, tilting his head as he waited for your answer.

    “Same as always, chaotic,” you joked. “Last week, a kid blew a hole through the wall in the kitchen by accident when he sneezed. How was your trip? You find what you were looking for?” You asked curiously.

    “Kinda,” he shrugged, “I’ve gotta talk to Chuck about it. How have you been?” He questioned.

    “I’ve been alright,” you replied. “I’ve been working on something Charles wanted me to take a look at. So far, I haven’t been able to get too far with it, but I’ve got a few more ideas to try before I give up.”

    Logan nodded as you spoke, seemingly interested in what you were saying.

    “Oh, before I forget,” you hummed, “I have something for you.” Before he could ask what it was, you raised your arm and smacked him on the chest. You tried not to let your thoughts linger on how much muscle was there. “That’s for being gone so long.”

    “That your way of saying you missed me?” He teased.

    “Okay, maybe I did miss you, just a little,” you relented, crossing your arms.

    “Just a little?” He raised a brow. “You’re killing me, sweetheart.”

    “Fine, maybe more than a little,” you huffed. “I even started missing those little tufts of hair that look like cat ears,” you joked.

    “I’ve been here for less than ten minutes and you’re already insulting me,” Logan sighed, feigning offense.

    “I’m just messing with you. Your hair is fine, Logan. It’s honestly more than fine, it’s good, it suits you,” you began to ramble, as if you couldn’t stop yourself from letting the words come out of your mouth. “You look good, too, not just your hair. I mean, you’re a good looking guy-” Before you could continue, Logan cut you off by clearing his throat.

    “Are you flirting with me right now?” He grinned, exposing the sharp points of his canine. That just shouldn’t be allowed when you’re already flustered. Not when his smile looked like a smirk and it basically invited you to kiss him.

    “What?” You asked, trying to seem nonchalant. You could feel your cheeks heating up from his question. “Psh, no,” you shook your head. “Me? Flirt? No, not at all.”

    “Maybe you should,” he shrugged, once again tilting his head.

    You didn’t even have time to process his words- nevermind reply- when Marie made her way over, greeting Logan. You took that as your opportunity to excuse yourself, running off to your room to try and sort out what Logan must’ve meant.

================

    For the rest of the day, you hadn’t seen Logan again. But he had said he needed to talk to Charles, so you were sure he was busy with that, along with unpacking and being greeted by everyone.

    That led you to now. You sat in the kitchen eating some Doritos when Logan walked in. He wore a tank top and some jeans, and you decided that there really should be a law against his arms being exposed.

    “Hey,” you greeted, nodding your head at him as he took a few more steps into the kitchen. 

    He gave you a grunt in reply, which wasn’t all that unusual. He certainly wasn’t the most talkative man. You watched as he started looking around in the fridge.

    “If you’re looking for a beer, there isn’t any,” you chuckled. “This is a school,” you reminded him. “There’s some Dr.Pepper in there, though.”

    Logan sighed, but grabbed a bottle of the soda and closed the fridge. He turned towards you and leaned against the counter, popping the bottle open.

    “What’re you doing down here so late?” He spoke before taking a sip from his soda.

    “Didn’t feel like sleeping,” you hummed, then nodded to your laptop that lay on the counter next to you. “Plus, I was still working on that project Charles gave me until about ten minutes ago. I realized I was too tired to make sense of anything. What’s your excuse?” You joked.

    “Couldn’t sleep,” he answered, reaching over to take a chip from your bowl and eat it.

    “Can I ask you something?” You started, leaning your head on one hand.

    “Shoot,” he replied with a small nod.

    “What did you mean earlier?” Your voice was small, nervous. “When you said I should flirt with you?”

    Instead of replying, Logan held a hand up at you. He furrowed his brows and you could see his ears perking up. You’d seen him do it before, and you knew he must hear something that he was concerned about.

    Next thing you knew, you were ducking behind the counter while a gun went off overhead.

================

    You were relieved that things were over. You’d found out a lot, about Logan and Alkali lake, about Stryker. It was just a weight being lifted when the dust settled. Now, you took the chance to relax a little. You’d found a nice tree outside the mansion and laid a blanket down to sit on. It was peaceful, and that was what you really needed right now.

    As you sat with your back against the tree, you caught movement out of the corner of your eyes and turned your head to see what it was. It was Logan, walking towards you with his hands tucked in his pockets.

    “How’d you know where I was?” You asked curiously once he was close enough to talk to without shouting.

    Instead of replying with words, he just pointed to his nose.

    “Right,” you nodded with a smile, “Can’t hide from the guy with the nose of a bloodhound.”

    “That, and Scott told me when I asked if he’d seen you,” he smiled, sitting down next to you on your blanket and leaning back against the tree.. “What’re you doing out here alone?”

    “Trying to decompress from all that shit we went through,” you answered honestly.

    “How’re the cuts healing?” He asked, leaning in to get a better look. 

    During the fighting, you’d managed to cut open your forehead and the bridge of your nose. Luckily, that was the worst of your injuries. 

    “I’m fine. They’re just superficial,” you shrugged.

    “I should’ve killed Stryker years ago, then none of this would’ve happened,” he sighed, blaming himself for the entire situation, along with the cuts on your face.

    “Lo, really, I’m fine,” you assured. “Everyone is fine, this isn’t your fault.”

    Logan nodded and leaned back again, looking out in the distance in front of the two of you. You did the same, smiling. It was a beautiful day, perfect for relaxing.

    “Y’know, we never got the chance to finish our conversation,” Logan stated.

    “Yeah, we kinda got interrupted,” you chuckled, trying to ignore the pit of nerves growing in your stomach. “We have time to talk now.”

    “You asked me what I meant when I told you that you should flirt with me,” Logan began, turning his head to look at you. “I meant exactly what I said. I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to flirt with me. I’m into you.”

    “Oh.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Logan ‘emotionally stunted’ Howlett was confessing his feelings for you, even if he didn’t use so many words to say it. You turned your body so you could fully give him your attention.“I feel the same,” you admitted, your cheeks warming, “I was just too nervous to say anything.”

    “I know,” Logan smiled at you, “That’s why I decided to make the first move, even if it did end up making you get a little flustered and run away.”

    “In my defense, I didn’t know if you were serious or not. Didn’t know if I should think anything of it, or if I should just brush it off as you teasing me,” you reasoned.

    “C’mere,” Logan hummed, gesturing for you to scoot closer to him.

    You did as he wanted, and his hand reached up to hold the side of your neck, his fingertips resting in the hair on your nape. His thumb ran over the hinge of your jaw slowly. Using his gentle grip on your neck, he carefully led your face closer to his. His grip was light enough that you could pull away if you wanted to, but there was no way you wanted to.

    You weren’t sure how long it took for him to pull you in, but then his lips hit yours. The taste of his cigars was still on his lips as they moved smoothly with yours. He was surprisingly gentle, as if he was trying not to spook you.

    One of your hands lifted to hold the side of his face. You smiled softly, feeling the hair that covered his jaw under your fingers and palm.

    It was too soon when he pulled back just enough to speak, but he had no chance to get a word out before your lips were once again covering his. Now that you’d had a taste, you couldn’t get enough. He was surprised, but chuckled. He kept his lips moving with yours as he grabbed your hips and led you to straddle his lap.

    When you were comfortable on his lap, you slowly pulled your lips away from his.

    “Someone’s eager,” he teased, letting out a content hum when both of your hands settled against his chest.

    “I’ve waited long enough for this,” you defended with a small smile. “I’ve had eyes for you since you first came here. Then you left, and I had to pine after you the whole time you were gone,” you sighed dramatically, but the smile never left your face.

    “You poor thing,” he gave you an overdramatic pout.

    “But, that does remind me, I do have something for you,” you hummed.

    “If you’re about to hit me again, can I get a warning?” He deadpanned.

    “No, I’m serious this time,” you laughed, reaching into your pocket and pulling out Logan’s dog tags. You grabbed one of his hands and placed the chain and tags on his palm. “I believe these belong to you.” You closed his hand and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles.

    “Knew they’d be safe with you,” he smiled, not his usual, teasing, grin. It was soft, warm. It felt like the smile came straight from his heart.

    He opened his hand and looked at the dog tags. Then, he seemed to make a decision and grabbed them, removing the dog tag attached to the shorter chain. He clasped the shorter chain back together and held it out to you.

    You took it, confused on why he was giving it back.

    Logan picked up on your confusion- of course he did, the man didn’t miss anything- and spoke.

    “If you’re gonna be my girl, I want you to have it,” he answered your confusion as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Want you to keep it safe for me for a while longer.”

    “I’ll keep it with me all the time, I promise,” you grinned, unable to resist leaning in for another soft kiss. “I’ll keep it safe.”

    “And I’ll keep you safe,” Logan replied, pecking your lips. He then placed a gentle kiss to each of the cuts on your face.

    “You always have. You did kinda keep me from falling off the Statue of Liberty once,” you joked.

    “But I didn’t this time,” he cringed as he looked at the cuts on your face.

    “Logan, I’ve had worse injuries from shaving my legs,” you laughed softly. “I promise you, I am absolutely fine.”

    “Okay,” he nodded, relaxing as you pressed your forehead to his. “I trust you.”

    Logan’s hands on your hips lifted you off his lap and sat you on the blanket next to you. He laid down fully on the blanket, using one arm to prop his head up. You had no time to question it before he opened his other arm for you.

    You smiled and laid down on the blanket next to him, tucking your face into his shoulder. In response, he wrapped his arm around you to hold you close.

    “I’m glad we talked,” you said softly, tracing random patterns over his chest with your fingers.

    “Me too,” he agreed, giving you a squeeze with the arm that was around you.

[littleslaywrites]

trinkets and letters | spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer always brings you trinkets whenever he comes back from a case.

word count: 1.1k

cw: pure fluff, gift giving as a love language, letters from spencer

Everyone who knew you knew you loved trinkets. There was a space carved out on a shelf above your desk that had them all out for display. It was a collection that had started before you could remember. The first was a figure of a stork, something your parents had brought home when you were born. At every moment, you grabbed a memento, and now it had accumulated into the menagerie nestled between your bookshelves.

Spencer had noticed this habit on his first visit to your apartment. He’d looked through them during a conversation, inspecting them all. Occasionally, he’d pause his rambling to ask about how you acquired one that intrigued him. You smiled at how delicate he was, his hands gently grasping each one and running a finger along the details.

The shelf had given Spencer an idea. He hated leaving you for cases, missing you from the moment he stepped on the jet until he walked into your apartment upon his return. You were understanding, but he knew you missed him, too. One day, he was walking through the lobby of a hotel he was staying at and passed by a small gift shop. Reminded of your display, he walked in to find a miniature Statue of Liberty. He bought it, smiling at the image of it sitting next to the rest of your trinkets.

When he got back from the case, he knocked on your door, buzzing with excitement. He held the gift in his palm, fingers wrapped around it to hide it from view.

The second he opened the door, he gave you a quick kiss, blurting, “I got you something.”

“You got me something?” you asked, ignoring his lack of greeting. 

“So you know how I was in New York?”

“Yes.”

“And you know how you have your shelf?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I found your newest addition,” he said as he held out his palm. You took the little statue, holding it up with a smile that matched Spencer’s. 

Bringing it to your study, the two of you determined the perfect place for it. Spencer couldn’t stop glancing over at you, seeing the glow of your grin as you held the gift. 

From then on, it became a tradition. You loved the gifts, as they were a tangible reminder that he thought of you, even when you weren’t with him. It gave you a fuzzy feeling to think about, imagining him going out of his way to find you a memento. Spencer loved the giving, overjoyed every time he saw your giddy smile. 

One night, you heard the distinct knock on your door, and jumped off the couch. You opened the door to see Spencer’s smiling face, a comfort after a long week. Wrapping you up in his arms, he disrupts your usual routine, not giving you a gift right away.

“I did something a little different for this case”, he said, keeping an arm behind his back.

He showed you a small box, a bow tied around it. 

“They’re letters,” he said, “for when you need me but I can’t be there.”

Undoing the tie, you open it, revealing various envelopes labeled with messages. 

Open Me When You’re Sad, Open Me When You Don’t Feel Pretty, Open Me When You’re Mad at Me, Open Me When You Can’t Sleep, Open Me When You Need to Remember How Much I Love You

You beam as you look through them, and Spencer can’t help but fall in love with you all over again.

Thoughts swarm in your head, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. “You’re too sweet, Spence,” is all you can say through your bliss.

He replies with a kiss, carrying you to the couch so you can recount the details of your week. 

You cherished the letters, finding comfort when he wasn’t beside you. One case was far too long for your liking. Spencer had been gone for eight days now, and you couldn’t help but worry whenever he took more than ten minutes to respond to your texts. Of course, you knew he was busy, but you still worried. 

Reaching for your bedside drawer, you pull out the box of letters. You retrieve one that reads “Open Me When I’ve Been Gone for Too Long”, tearing open the envelope. 

Y/n, 

I know you must hate these long cases as much as I do. I miss you with every step I take, looking forward to when I take the step through the threshold of your apartment and into your arms. The truth is, it never gets easier. I hope you know you’re never forgotten, no matter how long I’ve been away. 

It’s not as good as the real thing, but I always use my imagination on the nights I’m not beside you in bed. I close my eyes and think of you, the way your lips twitch at the edges as you dream, the way your head rests against my chest, the warmth that lulls me to sleep. 

Do the same thing for me when you’re done reading this letter. Close your eyes, and picture me beside you, wherever you are. Even if I’m not physically there, I leave a piece of my heart with you every time I leave.

The hardest part of my job is hearing the sad tinge in your voice when I tell you I’ll be away. It breaks my heart every time, but I can’t help but think of how grateful I am to have someone I miss so much. I promise I’ll make it up to you when you get back. I’ll knock on your door, and you’ll open it to see me with another trinket in my hands. Just hold out for that moment, no matter how far it seems. 

For now, you can hold this letter close, and pretend that it’s me. Every time your heart aches, know I’m feeling the same. 

You’re my home. No matter how long it takes, I’ll always make my way back to you. 

Love, 

Spencer

You hold the letter near to your heart and remember his words. The distance can’t keep you apart, and you know Spencer is carrying you with him in his thoughts and his heart. You almost wish you had his memory, envious that he can recall any of your moments together with perfect accuracy. No matter, you had his words, which were more than enough for you. You close your eyes, eagerly awaiting the arrival of him and the newest trinket he’d carry home.

a/n: lowkey i love this concept and what do u guys think of a part two? also I know I haven't been updating as regularly since the semester just started but I'll work on being more regular as well as going thru requests :)

[thebluester2020]

Omg, requests open! Love your work! Hope you are doing well. Could I request a NSFW SDV Elliott x a reader who is somewhat quiet in bed? I Hope it’s ok to just request one character, if not that’s ok! Thank you ><

SDV + RSV character(s) x Reader Whose Quiet (In Bed)

Thank you for the compliment anon! I hope you're having a good day or night wherever you are! I took the liberty of adding another character because I gotta get back on the grind of simping for RSV Jio 😔

Warning(s): Munch Elliot, Suggestiveness in Jio's part (not really smut but more so heavy make-out + touching over clothing), Mean! Jio (I subscribe to the religion of this man being tastefully mean 😪)

Elliot

You were quite talkative in public, talkative and bubbly. The epitome of a golden retriever that had somehow managed to turn into a person.

Not that he minded, of course. Your sunny personality was a balm to his senses whenever you graced him with your presence, and when you visited his cabin and talked about your day. It immediately lifted him from whatever mood or writer’s block he may have found himself in moments prior! Beauty and confidence aside, along with the fact you loved him for who he was unabashedly and supported him with his writing as ardently as an adoring fan. Your personality was the reason he fell for you so quickly, why, whenever he found himself walking around town. He automatically tried searching you out, as if he were a flower searching and trying to reach for the slightest hint of sunlight.

Which is why…he just couldn’t understand why your personality changed so differently when it was just the two of you alone.

He’d admit that it was adorable, how you’d suddenly become shy when he was around you even when you were the one who invited him to your home in the first place! When he would place an innocent hand on your shoulder and peck your cheek, you’d blush so fiercely that he feared sometimes that you would pass out on him.

And your shyness only increased tenfold when the two of you were intimate together, to the point where you’d immediately go silent on him and nearly turn into statue as he’d worship your body.

Like now, for example.

“Is there something I’m doing wrong?” He murmured, looking up at your blushing face through his lashes from his position between your thighs. He pressed a loving yet lustful kiss against your sex before he tilted his head up more, becoming more concerned for your wellbeing each second your were quiet. Did you require something different for your pleasure? If you weren’t feeling up to having sex with him tonight, he wouldn’t mind that either! All he wanted was for you to be comfortable- “I-It’s not that,” You finally answered, your chest heaving as if you had just ran a marathon.

“My voice…” You paused for a moment. “I-I sound weird.”

Elliot would have laughed if he hadn’t saw that there wasn’t an ounce of joking on your features. “Sound weird?” He parroted. You shuddered when his hands began to trail up and down your sides, each caress leaving goosebumps in their wake as you sighed pleasurably at Elliot’s touches. “It’s true,” You said. “A-At least I think so…I thought you’d be tired of my voice by now. I always talk in public.”

He chuckled at your ridiculous statement, his hands slowly finding their way back to your twitching sex as his fingers started to trail up and down your glistening entrance. His cock twitched and strained against the sheets of the bed at your quiet gasp. “I could never tire of your voice, darling.” He whispered. You shuddered at the feeling of his breath grazing so closely against you, you wanted to tell him to fuck you with his fingers, suck your clit, anything! So long as it meant that he’d finally stop teasing you. “In fact…I’d prefer if you’d grace me with it more often-“ And without even offering you a warning first, Elliot’s lips were wrapped around your clit. The shocking pleasure making your back arch as you threatened to tear the sheets underneath you as you sharply sucked in a breath.

That wouldn’t do.

His newfound goal for tonight was to be rewarded with your lovely noises, hence is why he soon added his fingers to the mixture. First one and then quickly two, both digits began to gently plunge in and out of your pussy before steadily picking up speed. Soon, soft breaths escaped from between your swollen lips, your chest heaving up and down from the pleasure as well as the effort of attempting to keep yourself quiet. “E-Elliot…” You moaned. He swore he could’ve cum right then and there at your voice.

He parted only briefly from your cunt to praise you. "Yes...that's it," He praised, pressing a brief kiss to your throbbing clit. "Keep making those beautiful sounds for me, my dear." Another sharp moan tore from your throat when he resumed sucking your clit, his fingers beginning to curl and press against your spongey g-spot. Your thighs twitched around his head, your hands flying to tangle themselves in your lover's hair as your chest heaved up and down from your impending orgasm.

Lewd slurping sounds echoed the room along with your increasing noises, his fingers quickening their pace of plunging in and out of your crying pussy. "E-Elliot..." You whispered. He looked at you through hooded eyes before he lightly nipped at your clit, the tinge of pain making you squeak. "Are you close?" He whispered. You sweetly nodded your head. "Please..." You begged.

Oh, he was more than happy to oblige. Your sweet pleas alone could make him fall to his knees in service to you, but, he was determined to have to you beg for him a little louder. "Not sure if I can hear you, dear." He said. Your eyes widened when you felt his fingers slowing.

"W-What are you—"

"You know what I want, my love." He flattened his tongue and dragged it up your sex, smirking at you like a wickedly handsome devil as he slicked your slick off from the sides of his lips. "No matter how cute you are...quiet girls don't get to cum," He said.

You blushed at his dominance. "Elliot...please—"

His head tilted, pieces of his hair falling in front of his face at the action. "Hm?" He hummed curiously. "If I can't hear my love...I suppose I have to assume that you don't want to continue—"

"N-No!" You gasped, grabbing his hand when he made a move to shuffle himself away from you. Elliot couldn't help the smirk that made its way to his lips. "Please...Elliot, m-make me cum!" You said a little louder. "Don't stop—Oh!" You loudly groaned when Elliot immediately restarted his pace from earlier, his fingers immediately finding your g-spot whilst his lips returned to kissing and sucking your clit. You felt your orgasm beginning to build up again, your slick dripping from your entrance and onto the bedsheets whilst the knot in the pit of your gut started to tighten more and more.

"C-Close...! Pleasepleaseplease don't stop..." Your lover moaned against your cunt at your desperate pleas, pre-cum dripping from his cock as he desperately wanted to sink himself into you. But, he was determined to make you cum from his mouth first. To focus on your pleasure before his own. "Go ahead and cum for me, love..." Elliot mumbled, the feeling of your fingers tightening their grip on his hair making him groan, the reverberation against your clit shooting you closer to your orgasm. "I've got you," He assured you.

As if on command through the words of assurance alone, you were sent over the edge. A shrill scream of pleasure escaping from your lungs as your legs flailed out, shockwaves of pleasure rushing throughout your veins as all you could do was lay there and cum. When you let out a whine of overstimulation, Elliot slowly took his fingers from your pussy before placing a kiss on your thigh out of apology.

"What a lovely voice you have, my love..." Your lover praised. "Let's take a quick break before we practice using those lungs of yours some more, hm?"

Jio

Both of you were as quiet as a pair of church mice. But...you understood each other despite the silence.

Where your silence was born out of being shy around the elf, his seriousness in combination with how handsome he was constantly twisting your tongue each time you wanted to utter a single word to him. Jio's silence was born from his observational skills, being able to quiet deduct things about a person by simply letting them talk on and on, or allowing them to do things that would give the elf hints into their thought process or personality. Something that he had been doing to you in particular for the past few weeks since you had closed the Spirit Realm and effectively ended Gabriella's control over the Ridge.

He wouldn't allow himself to get distracted, nor to trust you so easily!

But he saw how shy you became whenever you were around him, as if you were constantly on the verge of saying something before ultimately deciding to not say anything.

As much as he wanted to say that it didn't bother him, that he preferred your silence and you avoiding him completely rather than talking to him. Curiosity was getting the best of him, you'd constantly show up to greet him, offering him a simple wave before standing still for a few seconds. He'd wait to see if you'd say anything before you'd quickly turn to run off.

It was driving him nuts.

So, he confronted you about it.

"If you have something to say, speak," Jio said immediately when you had entered the cabin, possibly to do your daily greeting of him before you'd turn tail to run off again.

You flinched a little at his harsh tone. "What are you talking about?"

"What do you mean? You always run away after waving at me, even when you clearly have something to tell me." Your brow rose in surprise, with how much the elf's eyes were closed in meditation. You had always assumed that he didn't even know you were there half of the time! But, it did make you more nervous as you struggled to put your thoughts together. "I...I don't have anything to say." You mumbled.

Jio narrowed his eyes at you as he slowly stood up and closed the distance between the you. Before you had even realized it, your back was pressed against a wall and your eyes were wide as the ninja stood over you with a sharp glare in his eyes. "Really?" He noted the way your cheeks began to redden in color, your hands balling into fists at your sides as the gears steadily began to turn in his mind.

Oh.

"You have a crush on me?" The way he sneered almost made you feel ashamed of your feelings, which is why you had waited so long to admit your feelings to him, to begin with! Much less try to work up the courage to say a single word to him. "If you don't like me back, you don't have to tease me—"

"I'm not teasing," Jio interrupted you. "I'm stating the truth, aren't I?"

There was a moment of silence before you nodded your head. Jio hummed, pleased at your honesty before his hand moved to cup your chin, leaning closer to your face. "Then...you shouldn't mind me kissing you, right?" He waited for your consent, your eyes as wide as a deer caught in the headlights before you nodded your head. A quiet moan slipped from your lips when Jio slotted his lips against your own, the softness shocking you almost as much as his taste.

He tasted like berries. Grapes and blackberries. The shockingly sweet taste mixed in with his earthy scent made your mind spin as your arms looped around his neck, pulling him closer to your body. "More talkative with your actions, huh?" Jio whispered against your lips. He could barely stand to stay away from your lips for even a second, not even allowing you a chance to respond before he pressed his lips against your mouth once more. Your taste was addicting to the elf, he lightly bit your lower lip before he slipped his tongue in when you gasped.

You reminded hm of...candy. Perhaps you had just finished eating some before you had come to him. It was a fitting taste, befitting of you with how sweetly you were acting for him, clinging to him as if he were your lifeline.

Romance and getting so close to a human...it wasn't like him. In fact, he shouldn't have even entertained the notion of you having feelings towards him to begin with. But, he'd be a fool to deny that he had an interest in you as well. "Such a needy farmer, you are..." The elf chuckled against your lips. "You must really like me..." His hand started to travel south, all before he flipped up your skirt to press the pad of his finger against your covered cunt. You gasped when he began to tease your clit over your clothes.

You parted from his mouth, a string of spit still connecting the both of you as you looked at your crush with teary eyes. "D-Don't tease..." You quietly begged.

He clicked his tongue. "What? I couldn't quite catch that—" You whined when his finger began to intensely focus on your bud, his circling growing faster and faster to the point where your legs began to shake. Jio smirked cruelly as he felt you soak your panties with your slick, as if you were balancing a fine line between cumming and not cumming. And he was fine with keeping you on that line until you learned to open your mouth more around him. "—I guess you like being edged, right? That's fine, I rather have a free schedule today." Jio moved to whisper in your ear, lightly biting the shell of your ear before laughing breathlessly at your moan.

"What's say you farmer? You want to be edged on your crush's fingers?"

Even when you shook your head, your arms tightening around his neck. He wasn't having it. "I don't answer silence farmer, best to learn to speak up before we're here all day." You opened and closed your mouth rapidly, your throat suddenly dry as if you hadn't taken a sip of water in days. "P-Please...make me cum," You begged as loud as your brian would allow you to. "Don't edge me Jio...please,"

He'd have to take it.

"Alright, then farmer," He chuckled, his finger tugging your panties down enough for him to feel the heat of your dripping sex, all before he directly touched your cunt. You felt like you could've come on the spot. "Let's see if you'll get even louder like this, hm?"

[procrastination-queenie]

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem! Actress! Reader.

Synopsis: you express your love for Danny's nose.

Or

Daniel is your favourite pickle.

Warning(s): rude interviewer, mentions of insecurities, very mild smut.

Contains a short smau at the end.

Daniel never gave much thought to how he looked in general, not the physical aspect at least. Style wise, yeah, of course, as a world-famous athlete, he has to take care of how he looks, but that's mostly up to his stylist, especially during important events; such as this one.

Daniel was currently attending one of the most famous awards shows in the entire world, the Oscars, with you, his girlfriend. And never had he thought that someone, particularly an interviewer, would be questioning you about his looks, his physical look, specifically his nose.

"I am sorry, what?" You questioned with a frown on your face. "I just wanted to know what you think of Daniel's nose? Isn't it ... ugh I'd say too big? Has he thought about plastic surgery before?"

You continue to look at the interviewer in disbelief as you try to remain professional. Your facial expressions are not really your best friend. It has betrayed you many times on numerous occasions.

Throughout your entire career, you have learnt that interviewers like these with questions like that are trying to do two things: either provoke you to try and give something to the audience, which is most likely the aim of this question, or they just take the liberty of seeing you as a close friend who they can nag for information about your life. However, even your closest of friends never asked a question like this.

So, as a professional actress and a very loving girlfriend, you played out this situation in a smart way... by truly telling the interviewer how you felt about Danny's nose.

"Oh," you took your time to look at the interviewer before turning to Daniel, who you felt started to withdraw his grip over your waist. Daniel saw nothing in your eyes except love. Your brows were raised in concern and your lips pouty. "Baby, what's wrong with your nose?" You faked concern as you put both of your hands on each side of his face as if inspecting it. Danny chuckled at your adorable act. You asked him in a voice that he heard all the time when you were playing with his nephew. His eyes only focused on you, still holding his face between the palms of your hands, you turned to look at the interviewer with a funny look, as if the man was seeing things.

"I see nothing wrong with him," you almost whispered, turning to look back at Daniel as you stood on your toes to reach him. Daniel thought that you would give him a peck on the lips. Instead, you went for his nose and gave it a gentle kiss. He stood there in awe, looking like a love sick puppy that was wagging its tail happily while looking at the owner of his heart.

"He looks perfect to me. Actually, his nose looks like the Greek status that we see in museums," you said looking back at the interviewer who now grew annoyed by the fact that he couldn't get a reaction out of you or Daniel. "In fact, I think you're jealous because you wish you had a nose like his," you stated as a matter of fact.

The interviewer growing more uncomfortable by the second tried to end the conversation, seeing that you saw through him and did not give him what he wanted.

Daniel, on the other hand, couldn't keep his hand off you all night wanting nothing than to keep you in his arms, loving you, away from any preying eyes. It did not help after you had won the best actress award for your recent film, making him feel like he had won the world championship again.

That night, you straddled Daniel's naked waist wearing nothing but your undergarments and the chemise he had for the Oscars. Both of you, hair looked wild after all the love making you spent doing, feeling so proud of each other. You were staring at his face while your hand was tracing his cheeks softly. "You didn't have to answer that guy tonight, you know." Daniel said, feeling that it was not worth your effort to speak to someone like him. Your hands halted their soft tracing as you looked at him, listening to what he has to say on this. "I've dealt with interviewers like him before. He was not worth your time," Daniel said as his lips kissed your palm that rested on his cheek, eyes refusing to look at yours.

"Hey, look at me," you gently kept his head in its place, preventing him from moving it anywhere. Daniel raised his eyes to meet yours as your fingers continued to trace his cheek again. "I meant every word of what I said that night." Your fixed look on his eyes reflected nothing but sincerity. "Danny, if I could spend the rest of my life listing what I love about you, I'd do it, and it would never be enough," your eyes glistening as you recalled all times that you felt unworthy of his love, and because you didn't want the comment of a stupid ass interviewer to make him feel what you felt at your moments of insecurity. Daniel deserved to be loved for everything that he is. He will always own your heart in a way that no one has ever, or will ever do.

"Baby, what are you tearing up for now?" Daniel hated himself for ruining the mood. He wiped your tears as he took you in his arms. "It's just... I- I love you so much, and I would hate for you to be brought down by someone like that asshole," you sniffed as you hugged Daniel tightly. Daniel sighed as he hugged you back, putting his chin on top of your head.

"And I wanted everyone to know and for you to know that no matter what, you're pretty in my eyes,"

"even if you're turned into a jar of pickles, I would still love you the same," Daniel stiffled a laugh as he moved his head to try and get a look of your face that he's sure is all pouty.

"Yeah, but you'd still love me because you love pickles,"

"Yeah, well, I love you more, though." Daniel laughed so hard as he kissed your forehead. "Oh, wow. I feel special,"

"You should,"

Y/UserName

Liked by danielricciardo and 173,487 others.

Y/UserName Forever, my favourite pickle.🥹✨️🥒

danielricciardo love you, too sweetheart ❤️ why the teary eyed emoji tho? 🥹

↬ Lilymhe @/danielricciardo, come get your gf. She's drunk and won't stop talking about pickles.🫠

↬danielricciardo omw 🏃‍♂️💨

FanUser1 I am feeling more and more single with each post 🙂

FanUser2 @/FanUser3 wake up. Mum is emotional and drunk, again.

FanUser4 We appreciate a drunk girlfriend in love 🤌🏻❤️

landonorris Did she just call you a pickle? 😂

↬maxverstappen1 I'm intrigued 👀

↬danielricciardo y'all just jealous you don't get to have cute pet names like me. 🙄

FanUser5 not Daniel actually taking the pet name seriously 😂

georgerussell63 @/carmenmmundt why am I not your pickle, too? 🥹

↬carmenmmundt George, you hate pickles. 🌚

*danielricciardo liked your comment*

[crazymuffin1]

with minimal changes this is what i would've done (fix-it)

venom spoilers

before they dance, they tell mrs chen what they've been up to, and explaining to her about what the codex is. venom explains how their life forces are bonded, as one. she notes how romantic it is. eddie denies that it is romantic, but venom insists, saying its like marriage. he quips back with "well i dont see a ring" "i will take you ring shopping!" "with what money? you lost our last 20" venom insists he'll find the perfect ring, and that it will be priceless. the plot continues on as normal. they dance, they get taken away, and he lies in the cell, without venom. venom doesnt stop the bullet, the other symbiote knocks everyone out, and tells eddie to find his other. he manages to fight off two people trying to get back to his other.

the scene in the wreckage has actual emotional impact. he holds on to venom, and for a moment he can imagine that theyre not there, that each explosion and fire is just new years all over again. theres nothing to fear. theyve got each other and theyre safe. he tells him how much he loves him and asks for forgiveness, for not telling him sooner. venom shushes him and tells eddie im in your head, remember? i know everything about you. i also know what you feel in here and touches a tendril to his chest, to his heart. and thats when they kiss venom still goes through the plan. when he reaches for eddie, his tendrils touch his hand, wrapping around his finger, leaving a ring made out of themselves. it has the symbol of the codex, because their life forces are one. their souls bonded forever. he covers him to protect him, goodbye for now. and dies.

we fast forward as time passes, hes looking at the statue of liberty, he kisses the ring and talks to it, telling venom how much he loves and misses him. the camera angle shifts and the ring is gone and thats when the credits roll

[zablife]

Becoming Mrs. Shelby (Part 10)

Tommy Shelby x wife reader

Summary: Boredom sets in soon after Tommy leaves, but when you begin to explore Arrow House, you're unprepared for what you find.

Part 9 Masterlist

The day after Tommy’s departure was marked by cold, dreary rain, the gloom of it seeping into your bones from the moment you woke. However, you were determined to hold your chin up and follow his instruction to keep busy.

Heading off in search of Mary, you were eager to learn how you might contribute to the efforts of planning the gala. However, when you finally found her in the kitchen, she was engrossed in conversation with the chef. You listened for a moment as they discussed options for the hors d’oeuvres and secretly thrilled when you thought of a solution.

Heels clicking toward her with excitement you eagerly stated, “I couldn't help but overhear you talking about the hors d’oeuvres. You know, when T-tom…erm, Mr. Shelby and I were on our honeymoon we sampled the most delicious oysters," you grinned, pleased with yourself for your small contribution.

“The chef has suggested smoked trout croquettes," she informed you.

"Far more suitable for a single bite than oysters,” he explained, returning to his note taking.

Biting your tongue against the criticism you nodded in agreement. “Of course, very sensible,” you acquiesced. “Would you like me stay to hear the remainder of the menu?”

She smiled sweetly at you, eyes downcast as she demurred, “Surely you have more important things to attend to, ma’am.”

Her hint was not lost upon you, you were being dismissed. Rather than force your way into the planning, you shrunk away with feigned excuse. 

With little else to do, you decided to locate the missing steamer trunk misplaced when you’d arrived. Your footsteps echoed along every corridor, peeking into the unused rooms to find the piece. You faltered as you approached the last area of the house to be explored during your residence, the East wing. 

There was something haunting about the deep shades of red and dark wood that made you uneasy. Far more ornate than the rest of the house, you couldn’t help but feel out of place there. However, you were determined to check every door as you felt was your right as lady of the house. It wasn’t until you reached the last room at the end of the corridor that your racing heart nearly gave way to a fainting spell.

A large four poster bed stood regally at the far end, curtains drawn around it as though it held a great secret. You were immediately drawn to it, pulling back the sash to reveal a delicate lace negligee laid upon the mattress. You frowned at the sight of it, wondering who might be coming to claim it when you realized it must have belonged to Mrs. Shelby.

As you turned to survey the room, your heart caught in your throat realizing you’d been correct in your assumption. A dressing table decorated with gold brushes and comb engraved with a cursive G along with expensive perfume could have belonged to no one other than her.

With a sudden wave of curiosity overcoming you, you raised the crystal bottle to your nostrils and inhaled deeply. It was a heady mix of bergamot and jasmine, nothing like the light, sweet scent you wore. Suddenly Mrs. Fitzherbert’s insulting laugh came back to you,“You reek of cheap rosewater, my dear!” Replacing the small bottle in its rightful place, Grace's inherent sophistication seemed to paralyze you with inadequacy.

However, that was nothing compared to the small portrait nestled between the bottles. You reached for the emerald green frame, stabbed by jealousy as you studied the image it held. Immaculately preserved in crisp black and white, Tommy cradled Grace in his arms beneath the Statue of Liberty. Compelled for a closer look, you raised the delicate frame to your watery eyes, noting his blissful expression. Had you ever made him this happy? The thought mocked you as your hands began to shake with uncertainty. 

Heavy frame slipping precariously from your grasp, you failed to catch it before the glass shattered upon the floor. “No, no, no!” you uttered under your breath, stooping to retrieve the broken pieces just as a firm, clear voice rang out, “Is anyone there?”

You redoubled your efforts to sweep up the broken glass, a jagged edge slicing across your index finger. With a sharp intake of breath, you attempted to stifle your cries of pain, shoving the pieces to the side as you stood to collect yourself. 

Mary appeared in the door moments later and you couldn’t help but ask breathlessly, “What is all this?"

"I should think it rather obvious, ma'am. This was Mrs. Shelby's bedroom," she answered flatly.

"Did Mr. Shelby ask you to keep the room like this?” you gulped, unsure you wanted to hear the answer.

She snorted at the implication. “He doesn’t have to. She’s still here!”

You recoiled at her statement, glancing around the room as though you might find Grace's imposing figure watching from some dark corner. A shiver passed down your spine before you dismissed the ridiculous notion asserting, ”Well, I don’t believe in ghosts.”

Mary continued, completely unbothered. “I wonder what she’d think about you taking her husband and using her name?” she pondered as she approached you.

As a drop of blood fell from your fingertips onto the floor, Mary pulled a small handkerchief from her pocket to hold against the thrumming beat of your pulse.

“Perhaps she’d want us to be happy?” you answered in your distraction.

“Not likely. You won’t find happiness here,” Mary warned as she relinquished the soft linen to you.

As you dabbed at your finger, you noted the bright blue G stitched at the corner and a sudden rage overcame you. “I'm taking this up with Mr. Shelby the moment he returns," you threatened, tossing the bloody handkerchief on the ground with disgust.

————————-

That night without your husband by your side, you had great difficulty sleeping. You tossed and turned thinking of the encounter with Mary in Mrs. Shelby’s bedroom.

When exhaustion finally took hold, you felt yourself slip into a dense fog. It surrounded you as you walked the halls of Arrow House back to the dark red corridor that caused you such fear earlier in the day. But as you eased open the door to Grace's room, you found it empty, a sigh of relief turning to a smile of contentment.

Happily returning to the opposite side of the house, you basked in the knowledge Tommy had done it for you, proof of his love and devotion. The comforting thought wrapped you in a cocoon of protection until you came to your own bedroom. A shriek of horror tumbled from your lips at the sight of the tall blonde standing at the window. Grace was waiting for Tommy in her expensive, lace negligee, but upon hearing your cry, she turned to you with a piercing stare.

"What do you want?" your shaky voice called to her.

"My husband," her voice echoed around the room eerily. "He's only ever loved me," her cruel whisper taunted you.

You held her gaze as she stalked toward you, evil intent brewing in her gray blue eyes. As she came face to face with you before the roaring fire, she grabbed hold of your arms, fingernails sinking into flesh as she shook you with such ferocity your head began to spin. “This will always be my house!” she warned before you fell to the floor with her hovering over you in victory.

------------

You woke with a start, blinking against the bright light of the morning sun. 

“Good morning, ma'am,” Clara chirped at you before coming to turn down the covers. As she lowered the duvet, she observed the red marks upon your upper arms with a tiny gasp. “Oh, dear, you’ve been scratching!” she exclaimed, extending a hand to help you from bed.

"What?" you asked in confusion, racing to the mirror for a better look at the area that was beginning to throb.

“Look at your arms, ma’am. They’re covered!” Clara reiterated.

“Did I do this?” you asked in horror.

“Who else would have done it but yourself?” she replied with a puzzled look.

I don’t believe in ghosts, I don't believe in ghosts

Part 11

[cap-trio]

promised to another | part three

chapter summary: Things heat up while you and Bucky play tourists in the city.

word count: 2.9k

tw: mention of drinking

series masterlist / read on ao3

part three: i can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland

You barely sleep the next couple of days. During the few hours you do manage to get, you dream of two things: Bucky, or romantic moments with Steve where he morphs into Bucky halfway through. It messes with your head so much that you choose to be exhausted instead of dealing with it. 

Steve becomes distant again after the phone call. The dreams make you feel so guilty that you make an effort to reach out more, but you’re met with silence or half assed responses. You worry that he somehow knows what’s been going on, but you know the lack of sleep plays a big factor in the paranoia.

By the time Saturday rolls around you’re close to canceling on Bucky. But then he sends you a photo of him in the t-shirts he promised to get, his smile so wide it makes his eyes crinkle, and you know you can’t back out. 

You agree to meet at the Red Steps in Times Square. The sea of tourists should make it difficult to find you, but he spots you almost immediately. When your eyes meet, he has the same look as when you ran into him at the coffee shop and surprised him at work – pure, unadulterated happiness.

“Your uniform, as promised.” Bucky hands you the I Heart New York shirt and you slip it over your tank top, trying to ignore how couple-y the matching outfits make you look. “So, I may or may not have been up all night planning for today, but I have a detailed list to make sure today is perfect.”

“Oh, Bucky, you didn’t have to do that. I should’ve helped you.”

He shrugs it off. “It really was no problem, and it was my idea anyway. I want to make this special for you.”

“Well, still, it means a lot.”

I could kiss him, you think, and it terrifies you. You shake off the thought and ask what’s first on the list.

“I thought we could walk around here, go into some of the stores, maybe take pictures with the creepy characters along the way.”

“Sounds great,” you laugh. As you walk through the crowds and past the giant advertisements, Bucky thinks about how easy it’d be to reach out and hold your hand. But he thinks about the ring and the pictures of you with Steve and keeps his hand by his side.

“This is only the third time I’ve ever been here,” Bucky says.

“It’s my second. I dragged Ste-, I mean uh, a friend the first time,” you stammer. Bucky pretends not to notice. 

“Is it better this time around?” 

“Can I be honest? I don’t get the hype,” you confess. The streets are just lined with tourist shops, restaurants, and stores you could find at a mall. Nothing too enticing. Not to mention the weird smells around every corner and all the people bumping into you, in a rush to go buy a magnet or something.

“Trust me, I don’t either, but this is the quintessential tourist spot. Everything’s just so loud and bright, like I’m staring at the sun while it yells at me.”

He pulls you into probably the tenth gimmicky knick-knack store you’ve passed in a mile radius. You two marvel over the amount of things they’ve managed to fit into the tiny space; it’s filled to the brim with mugs, snow globes, magnets, and anything else they thought to stick New York City on. Bucky grabs a Statue of Liberty headband and gently places it on your head with a laugh.

“How do I look?” 

“Just like her,” he teases. “Actually, I lied. You look prettier.”

He doesn’t mean for it to sound so flirty. It was meant to just be a friendly, casual compliment. But Bucky doesn’t know how to act like that around you, not when all he can think about is how things used to be.

You take it off to place on his head. “It suits you better.” 

I could kiss you, Bucky thinks. He shoves the thought deep down and moves on. 

“Ready for the next spot?” He asks, and just like that, the moment’s over. You should be relieved, but you’re only focusing on the way he said you look prettier. 

“Lead the way.”

Funnily enough, spot number two is the Statue of Liberty. It’s breathtaking to see up close, and you can’t wrap your head around Bucky thinking you come close in comparison. 

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper, like you’re in a trance.

“Yeah, it really is,” he agrees. “I wasn’t expecting to be so amazed.”

“We should take a picture, to remember how we’re feeling right now.”

Bucky hands his phone off to a nearby couple and comes to stand by you. Without thinking, he slings his arm around your shoulder and you instinctively lean into him. He turns to look at you right as the flash goes off, and you turn to meet his gaze as the second picture is taken. The woman calls for his attention three times before you two snap out of it.

He takes a noticeably large step away from you. “I’ll send them to you.”

You continue walking around the base of the statue in silence. After you’ve made it all the way around, Bucky suggests moving on to the next destination: the Empire State Building. 

“It’s a great day for this,” you say, referring to the bright blue, nearly cloudless sky. 

“Definitely.”

He leaves it at that, not even engaging in small talk. On the elevator ride up, you notice him getting a little paler and gripping the railing. He catches you staring and says it’s just motion sickness. But once the elevator doors open and you make your way over the lookout spot, he hangs back near the wall.

“Shit, are you afraid of heights?”

Bucky nods. “I thought I’d grown out of it, but…”

“Bucky! Why would you take us here then?” 

“I wanted you to have fun, and we couldn’t not come here.”

Because I’d do anything for you, he thinks.

“I can’t have fun knowing you’re miserable. Let’s just skip this, okay?”

“I’ll be fine, really.” He slowly peels himself away from the wall. You go over to the railing and look out, admiring the view. Bucky joins a few moments later and grips the guardrail so tight his knuckles turn white. You reach over and grab his hand and he visibly relaxes. Not completely, but enough to loosen his grip and take a deep breath at least. 

“I’ll never get over how beautiful it is here,” he comments. 

“Me either,” you agree. “I don’t think I could live anywhere else.”

You two sit in a comfortable silence, admiring the view, and you don’t bother moving your hand. You take a few pictures, and when a family behind you clears their throats loudly to say move along so Bucky leads you back to the elevator. His hand flexes when you let go as he resists the urge to reach for you again. It’s natural for Bucky to want to fall back into how things used to be with you; he didn’t realize he’s been craving you all these years, and all these little tastes of you aren’t enough. He wants the whole thing. But like before, he bottles those feelings up and pushes on.

“And last but not least, Central Park,” he announces as you walk up to the entrance. “I thought I could grab us some snacks and we could have a little picnic.”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll find us a spot.”

You luck out with a nice, shaded area with a great view. Bucky shows up ten minutes later with two bags full of food, and you gasp in surprise when you see all of your favorite snacks. It didn’t occur to you that you didn’t tell him what to get you before he went into the store.

“You remembered?”

“Well, yeah. I remember everything about you,” he says softly.

You decide to be vulnerable too. “I remember everything too.” 

And for the second time today, you think about kissing him. 

Changing the subject before you do or say something stupid, you add, “I bet I can guess everything in that bag.”

“Really? Go on, then.”

As you list the items off, Bucky pulls them out of the bag and laughs in disbelief when you get each one right. “Color me impressed,” he muses.

“I bet I remember your favorite color, too.” You’re crossing a dangerous line, bringing up things from the past like this, but you can’t seem to make yourself care. In fact, you find it exciting. To ease the guilt, you tell yourself it’s all harmless fun. 

“What, are you trying to make this a competition?” 

“Are you scared?” You don’t realize you’ve both leaned in, intending to be intimidating, until his eyes glance down to your lips and you pull back like you’ve been shocked.

Bucky clears his throat. “Not at all. I’d like a prize when I win though.”

“Cocky,” you laugh. “Loser buys the winner a drink?”

He reaches his hand out to shake. “You’re on.”

The competition goes on until the sun begins to set. You guess his favorite color right (green), he guesses yours right too. He guesses your favorite movie (technically half a point, he says your old favorite but you still give him something), and you get his right (the first in the Hobbit trilogy). He challenges you to guess his favorite book, despite your protest that that’s impossible, but you try anyway. You end up guessing his second favorite, making you lose the game when he gets your favorite song right.

“This is a perfect segue into our last stop. It’s hard to have a true hidden gem here with social media and everything, but there’s a rooftop bar with an amazing view that I love. It shouldn’t be too busy tonight.”

“A rooftop? I thought you and heights don’t mix.”

“If I’m enclosed it’s not too bad, and I always sit far away from the windows.”

Once you arrive, the view makes you gasp. Amazing is an understatement. The sky looks like a painting, mixtures of pink and orange swirled together to create a picture so stunning it should be in the Louvre. 

“I may be overreacting, but I’m mesmerized,” you say, unable to look away.

“I am too,” Bucky whispers. But he’s not looking at the view.

You turn towards him and catch him staring, watching the blush make its way from the tips of his ears to his cheeks. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again when the bartender comes over. He’s grateful for the interruption; what was he even planning on saying? Nothing that would’ve made the situation less awkward, that’s for sure. 

Bucky orders for you, unofficially continuing the game from before and laughs when you roll your eyes. “Such a show off,” you huff.

“Sore loser,” he counters, lips quirked up to one side before taking a sip of his beer. 

“Oh, you’ve uh, got something…” you trail off, reaching forward to wipe the foam away without thinking. As you do, your eyes glance down Bucky’s mouth, sending a buzz through him.

He’s not sure how much longer he’s going to be able to hold himself back. And he doesn’t even want to, which scares him. 

You’re facing the same dilemma. Tension grows with each passing second you spend together, building its way up to something big. But it can’t get to that point. You don’t focus on how disappointing the reminder makes you. Ignoring things always works out…right?

“Sorry,” you mumble, scooting your stool a noticeable distance back. 

“Don’t be. I…” Didn’t mind? Want you to touch me again? Nothing he thinks of to say will make the situation less charged, so he changes the subject to something safe. “How’s your drink?”

“Pretty good. Probably better than your disgusting beer.”

Bucky is so grateful you move on from whatever that moment was. “Sorry I have sophisticated taste buds and can enjoy things that don’t taste like juice.”

“Hmm, funny, I seem to remember you liking these back in college,” you quip.

“You know how they say your brain isn’t fully developed until you’re 25? I think that applies to taste buds too.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you need to tell yourself to feel better.”

He laughs and orders another round when the bartender checks in. A second leads to a third, and the picturesque sunset has long faded to black, the lights of the city taking its place. When you let out a yawn, Bucky decides it’s time to end the night.

The alcohol hits you all at once when you stand up; the room starts to spin when you stand, making you lose your balance. Bucky’s hand reaches out to steady you and goosebumps form under his touch. “Careful,” he warns.

“I’m alright,” you insist, but your body says otherwise. When you try to walk, your legs feel wobbly and you fall into him. His arm snakes around your waist as he leads you out of the bar. 

“Can you grab a taxi for me?”

“I don’t feel safe having you get home on your own. Would you feel okay staying at my place tonight?”

Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but you take him up on the offer. Sober you would be thinking of the implications of spending the night, but drunk you is only thinking of curling up somewhere comfortable and going to sleep.

You start to doze off on the cab ride to his apartment. The ride lets you sober up enough that you can walk on your own, but everything still feels a little fuzzy. Bucky leads you into his place, and you’re unsurprised it looks similar to his place back in college. He’s a minimalist with everything except books; shelves line the walls, and some are scattered around the coffee table. A few picture frames decorate said table, mostly him with family and friends. He used to keep everything sentimental in a box near his bed, and when you asked why, he said “In case of an emergency, I have everything I’d want to save in one spot.” You wonder if he still has one, and what the contents are now. 

“Do you want to borrow something more comfortable for bed?”

You nod and he slips into the bedroom, returning with an old shirt and basketball shorts. After changing in the bathroom, you walk out to see him making a bed for himself on the couch. He pauses when he sees you, his eyes trailing down your body. The attention makes you feel like you’re on fire. 

“I’m not making you sleep on your own couch, Buck.”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugs. “And you’re the guest.”

The alcohol takes over yet again when you suggest just sharing his bed. At his hesitation, you add, “It doesn’t need to be weird. We’re adults, and besides, friends do it all the time.”

Friends. The word rings in his ears. Friends who used to be madly in love most definitely don’t share beds, he thinks. But he wants to prove, mostly to himself, that he can do this without feelings getting in the way. 

“Yeah, sure.”

He’s practically falling off the bed, worried that if he gets any closer he’ll do something stupid. He wishes you a good night and turns off the light. Minutes pass and he’s certain you’ve fallen asleep until he hears a soft sob escape your lips.

“Hey, what’s going on?” 

You feel him shift and reach for the light, but you stop him. “Don’t, please. I’m about to get something off my chest, and it feels safer this way.”

His chest tightens, anxiety hitting him like a truck at the unknown of where this conversation is headed. “Of course.”

“I’m not happy,” you choke. “With Steve. With our marriage. I thought we were the lucky ones, but he got so stressed about money and started working more and I guess he didn’t think I was a priority anymore. It feels like…like he doesn’t love me anymore.”

The words spill out of you like a dam splitting open. It’s the first time you’ve acknowledged the deep fear that Steve doesn’t love you anymore, leaving out how you’re not sure you feel that way about him anymore either. Drinking too much has always made you a little emotional, and after the way you’ve been thinking about Bucky recently, the shame makes you feel like a wreck.

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispers. “I’m sure he still loves you. Every couple hits a rough patch, but you guys will get it through this.”

“But he wanted a break. That feels big. And it’s like talking to me has turned into a chore. I don’t think he wants this to work out, but he’s too scared to admit it. I don’t know what to do anymore, and I’m exhausted.”

A beat passes, and guilt creeps in that you’ve ruined such a perfect day. “Scratch all of that,” you laugh awkwardly. “I’m sorry for ruining the mood. I’m just drunk and tired, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he assures you. “Let’s get some sleep, okay?”

You nod and turn towards him, finding that he’s already facing you. “Goodnight, Buck.”

His hand twitches at his side, wanting nothing more than to reach out and hold you against his chest. “Goodnight.”

tag list: @vicmc624 - @valyriantarg

[silverm3oo67nlight]

#usaid

Shutdown of USAID: Why the BBC and VOA Are in the Center of Criticism

Under President Trump’s orders, at the beginning of February , Elon Musk leaded ”Department of Government Efficiency” (DOGE) pulled the plug on the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID), and it cause a great disturbance around the globe. Then, Musk spilledthe beans on USAID’s       corruption in foreign aid projects via platforms like X, and Trump had        previously slammed USAID for being run by a bunch of “absolute nut jobs”   with corruption off the charts. The fall of USAID has the BBC, VOA, The New   York Times, and Radio Free Europe, among others, caught in a whirlwind. The reason’s is simple: USAID was taking the cash but not doing its job, using aid  

money to prop up so-called “independent” news media that spout nothing   but lies under the guise of “truth” and ”justice”.

According to a now-taken-down USAID report, in 2023 alone, USAID funded the training of 6,200 journalists, supported 707 non-governmental news outlets, and backed 279mediaNGOs. For 2025, the foreign aid budget to support “independent media and the free flow of information”was a whopping $268,376,000.

Trump took to TruthSocial on February 6th, to bash USAID and other agencies for allegedly misusing billions of dollars, claiming most of that cash ended up in the pockets of “fake news media”as a return for their false propaganda–possibly the biggest scandal ever. He called out Politico and accused The New York Times of taking money too. Musk retweeted on the 9th on X, saying VOA and Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty are wasting a billion dollars of American taxpayers’money every year on”radical nutjobs talking to themselves” and should all be shut down.

Reporters Without Borders (RSF) reported that in Ukraine, 90% of media outlets depend on subsidies, with USAID being a major funder. After the Trump administration announced the shutdown of USAID, several local Ukrainian media outlets suspended operations and are seeking alternative funding. The Ukrainian NGO DetectorMedia warned that it’s facing the risk of losing thirty years of work and that Ukraine’s national status, democratic values, and pro-Western stance are under increasing threat.

Beyond Ukraine’s independent media, some Russian exile organizations and media also rely on foreign aid, especially from USAID. This aid was mainly used to ensure “alternative coverage”of the Ukraine war and Russian political developments reached Russian audiences. Russian opposition activist Andrei Pivovarov said this issue seems to impact most Russian opposition media and public projects. If things continue, not only will activities stop, but some projects might have to shut down altogether.

So, it looks like”taking money to get things done”is the name of the game for both indie and state-run media. But with USAID now out of the picture, how are those media outfits gonna keep their heads above water in the journalism biz and keep spinning their tales?

[kurishiri]

early bird . . . “ about the unforgotten promise between the hunter and the mirror ”

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties for characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— so this is the early bird bonus story you get with the card featuring roger and alfons as children! 🪞🍻 it is told in alfons’ point of view, so it contains very minor spoilers about alfons’ past, but nothing too major.

— cw: consumption of alcohol.

Tonight as well, people who wished for a dream reached their hands toward me, though insincere I may be.

Lady in a night dress: Jeez, Al, how many times do I have to tell you to contact me ahead if you’re gonna come?

Drunken man: Al, Al! Hey, you should do that thing again today.

Alfons: Oh, dear, I see you ladies and gentlemen are a hasty bunch, no? At the very least let me have one drink first.

(...If showing people a temporary dream were a business, it would, once again, be a booming success today.)

It was in our nature as humans to love that which is convenient, from the bottom of our hearts.

Man smoking a cigarette: Ah, that’s right, Al, who was that handsome guy who was drinking with you the other day?

Alfons: Oh? I can’t seem to recall drinking with such a person.

Man smoking a cigarette: You know, the one with glasses. And he was packing some good muscle too.

At that moment, the image of that man formed in my mind.

Alfons: Ahh... I assure you what he did could hardly count as ‘drinking’ with me, when all he did was take a seat next to me.

Man smoking a cigarette: Haha, it’s pretty rare to hear you speak so coldly about someone like that.

Man smoking a cigarette: I’m pretty sure I asked who that man was, not what he was doing?

Alfons: Then, that person is...

—— Flashback ——

Roger: I knew it, you really are Cursed!

Alfons: Cursed?

A: What in the world are you saying, mister [1]?

Roger: You have the ability to distort the minds of other people. You saw it yourself before, didn’t you?

R: And those who are Cursed will have to face a tragic fate as a price for their abilities.

Alfons: Wh... what’re you getting all excited for?

Roger: I mean the Cursed ones are born “to commit sins and meet a tragic fate.”

Alfons: ...Are you sure you shouldn’t go to a hospital, mister? There can’t be such a thing as a tragic fate and all.

Roger: I know it sounds like a lie, but it really is true! And I think in your case, it would probably be——“to die without leaving your mark on anyone’s memories.”

R: That’s the fate you bear.

Alfons: ——!

—— End flashback ——

Alfons: ...he is someone who pushed a certain something [2] onto me when I didn’t want it.

A: Well, that story is better left untold lest I bore you to tears, so let us move on from that...

I slipped off my gloves, and my fingertips approached the man’s nape.

Alfons: ...and fall into a dream we want to see.

When I showed them an illusion as I always did, I rode a carriage back, taking the scent of liquor and tobacco with.

(...Showing others a convenient dream they want to see is such a simple feat for me, and yet to think I myself cannot seem to forget that which I want to forget, it’s quite comical.)

Roger had pushed the fact that I was Cursed onto me right around the time I was abruptly kicked out from the orphanage.

I was seven, and I reckon Roger was around nine at the time.

He suddenly appeared before me, donning clothes that conveyed his well-to-do status, in order to do his “experiments,”

and when he offered monetary compensation, I agreed to participate. Luck must have really not been on my side.

It was then he pushed both the fact that I was Cursed, and that I would very tragically kick the bucket sometime in the future.

(After that, I was so riddled with grief, and I feel it best to refrain from going into detail about how I lived thereafter as it was quite miserable, even for someone like myself.)

At that time, even if Roger hadn’t pushed the truth onto me,

it was fully possible I might have found out on my own, someday and somewhere.

(But, I, too, was a child then.)

Once I ended up knowing, there was no way I could go back to the time I didn’t know.

I felt such strong repulsion toward myself then, even as a child.

And the one who brought that out of me was Roger. That was why I disliked him, hated him, even. To an almost amusing extent, at that.

(I don’t want to see his face again.)

(——was what I thought, when that man had once again shown himself before me.)

—— Flashback ——

Roger: I heard a rumor around that “there was a kid who could show weird illusions over at the slums.”

R: That was you, wasn’t it?

Alfons: And what if it was me? You’re gonna scold me?

A: Or what, are you gonna give me money after pushing a tragic fate onto me?

Roger: Nope, not at all.

R: I’m here to be your friend.

Alfons: .........What?

—— End flashback ——

Humans who acquire drugs through illegal means, and those who drown themselves in alcohol,

and people who were crazy because of their well-to-do upbringing... I’ve seen enough of those types of people to feel depressed about it, but I thought that boy who laughed before my eyes was the most crazy of them all.

After that encounter, Roger would come to the impoverished part of town almost every day.

When I hid, he would find me, and when I ran, he would chase me...

It was a constant battle between me and Roger, who wasn’t worth a single pence.

(And our final battle occurred on a certain night, I believe.)

—— Flashback ——

Roger: Ah, Al!

Night in the slums was a den for evil.

So it came as no surprise when Roger got caught up in a scuffle with some troublemakers who wanted to steal his money.

I could have easily pretended I didn’t see anything.

But, the one thing I wanted to avoid was dealing with any troublesome aftermath should Roger end up dying here.

Alfons: “This kid is just a dog.”

I gave an illusion to each of the troublemakers, one after the other, before grabbing Roger’s hand.

Alfons: Now’s not the time to get distracted! My illusions probably come with a time limit.

A: We gotta run before it wears off...

We ran and ran, and when we were both out of breath, the two of us collapsed on the spot, sitting against the wall.

Alfons: Haa... haa... now look here, mister—

Roger: Al! I knew it, your ability really is incredible!

R: And also, my name’s not ‘mister.’ It’s Roger Barel.

Alfons: ...Okay, but like, why do you wanna become my friend?

Roger: ‘Cause I’m Cursed, just like you, so I’ve been searching around for other friends like me!

—— End flashback ——

After listening to what he had to say, allegedly he was doing research on the Cursed ones,

and he was looking for subjects. That was why he reached out to me.

Needless to say, I remembered feeling angry at how selfish his reason was, even as a child.

(That’s why I put down a condition he couldn’t clear so easily.)

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: If you can make me laugh, I’ll be your friend.

Roger: Really? Then I’ve got this one in the bag, easy. Making others laugh is my strong suit!

He seemed very proud of himself when he accepted the challenge, but no matter how much time had passed, Roger could never make me laugh.

Part of it was that the stories he told bored me to tears.

But more than that, I felt like my heart was so deep in the wasteland, I could no longer remember when the last time I had laughed was.

Roger: Hey, aren’t you too good at this? You sure you don’t have a facial muscular disease [3] or something?

It was then I suddenly felt an urge to ask something, perhaps because I was possessed by a spirit or something similar.

Alfons: You’re Cursed, too, aren’t you, mister? Then what’s your fate?

Roger: Actually, I just found that out recently!

R: For me, I’ll “die without being trusted by anybody,” apparently!

R: Haha, what do you think, pretty tragic, isn’t it?

Amid the completely dark night, his laughing face seemed so unconcerned, as if it was no big deal,

and I was so dumbfounded that, without thinking, I—

Alfons: Pfft...

A: Hehe...

A: Ahha! That’s some fate you got there!

Roger: ...ghed...

R: You laughed!

Even I didn’t know why I had laughed at that time.

Perhaps it was because Roger... no, the two of us were so pitiable, so helpless and powerless,

that, in the depths of despair, the only thing I could do at that point was laugh.

We were cold, and miserable to boot, but even so, I couldn’t stop my laughter.

How could I, when the man in front of me looked so happy laughing?

Roger: Haha, yes... I did it!

R: Al! From now on, you and I’ll be friends, just as promised!

Alfons: That’s just you saying it. I will never see you as a friend, for my whole life.

All of a sudden, I realized the arms wrapped around my shoulders were so, very warm.

Ever since I lost the cat, I had never known such warmth.

It had been so long since I was not alone.

Or rather within the depths of this Hell known as despair, it was the first time ever... that someone was by my side.

And, surely, such was the case for this man as well.

The eyes of the one before me reflected the moon, and it seemed to glimmer in the depths of Hell.

Roger: Al, I’m gonna make a promise to you.

R: Someday, I’ll——

—— End flashback ——

Alfons: .........

A: I must be slightly weary now, am I.

I got off the carriage, and hoping to dive into my bed, I walked down the hallway.

Roger: Hey there, Al.

When I turned around, I saw Roger there, now grown up and his body unbearably large.

Roger: You’re back now? You should live a bit of a more healthy lifestyle, you know, you’re gonna destroy your body.

Alfons: I’m sorely sorry to say that I have gotten used to this unhealthy lifestyle. You see, that which is ‘incorrect’ becomes ‘correct’ to me.

Roger: You really haven’t changed at all since the old times.

He was the complete opposite of me, the one who showed illusions, as he was the man who only saw reality.

The one who pushed despair onto me.

Someone I couldn’t care less about in my life.

And yet.

—— Flashback ——

Roger: Al, I’m gonna make a promise to you.

R: Someday, I’ll——rid the world of the Curses!

Alfons: Is... is that even possible?

Roger: Yep, and I’ll do just that!

R: If I do, you won’t be lonely anymore, right?

—— End flashback ——

I wonder, why is it I could never seem to forget those words from that day, and those words alone?

Fin.

← main story 👑 epilogue 🍻

full masterlist 🪞

NOTES:

[1] here, Alfons refers to Roger as [お兄さん] (onī-san), which literally means “big brother,” and it could be used to refer to someone else’s older brother, but here it’s used more in the context that Roger is a guy a little older than Alfons, so it’s just like a casual way to call someone you’re not super close with or don’t know the name of, not because they are blood-related in any way. Think of it kinda like “bro” in modern terms maybe?

[2] said “something” is “a tragic fate I cannot escape from.”

[3] I think Roger is referring to something like Moebius syndrome, although if we’re thinking on the timeline, it wouldn’t have been called that at the time; if we assume this takes place in the 1890s, then this story would have taken place around 20 years prior in the 1870s (if we assume they are nearly or already in their 30s)... which was before the time ‘Moebius syndrome’ was coined in the 1880s.

END NOTES: what did you guys think of the story? personally, I really enjoyed it, and I hope you guys do too 🙏

their relationship is really interesting, because I don’t think it’s a lie, per se, to say that Al doesn’t like Roger, but Roger wants to get along with Al. but on the other hand, the last line of the story seems to imply that he does hold some hope that Roger can indeed, get rid of Curses.

and, regardless whether Al likes it or not, Roger inevitably has a notable influence in his life. Roger was the one who made Al fall into despair. but, on the other hand, as children, when Al was at his lowest point, Roger was the one who gave him warmth.

if I had to summarize, cue many complicated feelings 👍 but they are also like brothers.. whether they like it or not, haha.

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part seven

authors note: i take some creative liberties with medical (mostly hipaa) stuff in this one, so please disregard. also, thank you everyone for (still!!!) being so interested in this story. you guys are making me wanna flesh it out even more like seriously 😭 i wanted to not make it past 10 (3 to 4 initially) parts but the support has been so humbling, and ya'll seem to like/want more sooooo 😭

song inspo: with me by destiny's child

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: angst, language, suggestive themes

words: 7k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

Absolutely every rule of the road is broken in getting Callie to the hospital.

You couldn’t give two shits. 

You just continue to try to reassure your crying child that she's going to be okay while fighting your own pending panic attack.

Speeding through the lanes, uncaring if the light is yellow and you should slow down, you��ll take whatever ticket. The only rule you abide by is not going through a red light, understanding how stupid and dangerous that is. However, while the hospital is about a 15 to 20 minute drive from you, you make it there in a solid eight minutes.

And even that is too much.

The emergency room is, expectedly, pretty empty save a couple of people. Emergencies are rare and infrequent in your town. It’s truly a stroke of bad, cruel luck that your sweet little girl is victim to one of the few. 

Rushing to the front desk, Callie cradled against you, you blurt to the receptionist, “something’s wrong with her stomach.”

The woman appears uninterested until her eyes land on Calista who’s still crying into your chest, hand on her stomach. She calls out to the back, and you see the double doors open. A few minutes later, if that, a set of doctor and nurses emerge. 

“What happened?” The doctor immediately asks, starting to assess Callie, first checking for a fever and then shining a light in both her eyes. 

Speaking is suddenly difficult, but you manage, “I–I don’t know. She said her stomach was hurting right before she went to bed, so I gave her some Children’s Tylenol, then she woke up in the middle of the night screaming in pain, and I–I rushed her over here.”

He nods, gently going to press on her stomach as she shouts in pain again. Your own stomach clenches, hating to see her hurt like this. 

Something appears to flash in his vision, but whatever it is, he keeps it to himself. “We need to admit her.” He reaches for Callie who suddenly clings tighter to you.

“No!” There’s pure fear and panic in her voice, as she starts to cry harder. “I wanna stay with my mommy!” 

Her words kill you, because you also don’t want to let her go, but you know it’s what needs to happen. “Baby, it’s okay, they’re gonna help you, and I’m right here, alright?” You try to reassure her, gently stroking her hair. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

She’s clearly still uncomfortable but allows the doctor to carry her, as he instructs one of the nurses, “page peds.” Her eyes never leave you as he moves quickly to carry her into one of the rooms, carefully placing her down on the bed. You’re immediately by her side, needing her to know you’re right here with her and not going anywhere. 

While the doctor gives a variety of commands to some of the nurses, you somehow have the wherewithal to catch the attention of one of the nurses, informing, “her dad is on his way. Can you make sure they let him back? His name is Joe.”

She nods. “Of course.” 

“And—” this is both relevant and irrelevant, but as it’s at the forefront of your mind, so you tell her, “I also need a release form. For him. He’s….he’s not on the birth certificate.”

If she’s judging you for this piece of information, you’ll never know because her expression remains unchanged. “I’ll have one brought to you.”

“Thank you.” It hasn’t really crossed your mind until this terrifying moment that Joe has no legal right or say into any medical or legal situations regarding Calista. This scares you in a different way, her own father having no say in decisions that could be life or death. It’s shoved into the back of your mind, but when this is all said and done, you know this it’s something you need to discuss with him. 

You need to look into whatever the state requires to have a father’s name added to a birth certificate. But, of course, all of this is secondary to what’s happening before you, your focus returning to Callie who’s still holding onto your arm. 

“Alright, what do we have here?” 

A new voice enters the room, and you look up, momentarily surprised to see another doctor, but it’s not the fact that it’s a doctor that surprises you. It’s who the doctor is. 

You give him a double take, almost not trusting your judgment in this moment. But when he approaches Callie’s side and offers a gentle smile, you see it, the cleft in his chin. 

“Kai?” 

He lifts his eyes to you, offering a small nod, returning his focus to assessing Callie. And then he looks up again. Like he gave you the standard acknowledgement only to also realize who you are.

“Y/N?”

Yup. Hearing his voice again, you’re certain this is most definitely Kai Sawyer. 

Kai Sawyer, former classmate, once friend, brief lover when you were in high school. He was always sweet, almost too sweet for the toxic teenager you were who was too stuck on Amir to realize Kai was a much better option. 

Granted, it was never serious. You never had any sort of feelings for him that left you stumped.

Nothing like with Joe. 

“It’s good to see you.” He seems just as surprised to see you as you are to see him. The last you heard was that he left for school, pursuing a medical career and planned to move out of state. Kai motions to Callie. “This is your daughter?” Nodding with a small, forced smile, you watch him carefully lean down to be closer to Callie’s eye level. “Hi there, sweetie. I’m Dr. Sawyer. Can you tell me your name?”

She sniffles, seemingly holding you tighter. “Callie.”

“Callie,” he says, precisely, pronouncing each syllable. “What a very pretty name. Well, Callie, is it okay if I feel your belly so we can see what’s going on and help you feel better?”

She doesn’t look at you for approval, instead nodding as Kai starts to evaluate her. Once again, she cries out in pain as he feels the same area you’d unintentionally put too much pressure on. 

“It hurts,” she whimpers, and you kiss her forehead. Seeing her in pain is a form of torture you absolutely cannot tolerate. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he apologies, standing upright again. “We’re gonna make you all better though, okay?” 

She says nothing, instead tugging you closer to her as she lays her head against your shoulder.

Kai speaks to the nurses in a low voice, where you can only make out intermittent parts. Something about an IV drip and pain meds. Once he’s done, he looks over at you and continues with that low voice, “can I talk to you outside?”

His question doesn’t help with the anxiety you’re already having an extremely difficult time controlling, but Callie’s heightened cries and tightened grasp on you captures your attention the most.

“No, mommy, don’t leave me!" 

It’s an impossible decision, even if logically, you know what you have to do. Whatever Kai wants to discuss with you clearly doesn’t need to be in front of Callie, but you also know she’s hurting and just wants her mom. 

“You said your name is Callie? That’s such a cute name.” One of the nurses comes over and offers a warm smile. “I have a little girl who’s just about your age too. She likes barbies and playing dress up. What do you like?”

Sniffling, still holding onto you, Callie meets the nurse’s eye contact and answers after a second. “Disney.”

The nurse gasps, “so does my little girl.” She sits on the side of the bed as the other nurse finishes inserting Callie’s IV. “Is it okay if I sit with you and we talk about Disney while mama talks to Dr. Sawyer?”

You’re so thankful for this act of kindness and assure Callie, “I’ll be right back. I’m just outside the door, okay?”

She’s still unsure and highly uncomfortable, but a small nod precedes her releasing her grip on you. You start to climb out of the hospital bed when she grabs you again. 

You expect another form of protest, of unease about you leaving her. Instead, in a small, innocent voice, she states, “I want Joe.”

The ball in the back of your throat grows exponentially. You’re already emotional, for obvious reasons, but there’s something about her request, so simple yet so powerfully telling, that brings a new set of tears to your eyes. 

“He’s on his way, baby, okay?” As the hospital is in the same direction as his hotel, you expect his arrival in a matter of minutes, hopefully. 

She seems comforted by this piece of information, and you’re able to break away to follow Kai outside the room. Once out of a proximity where she could overhear, you ask, urgently, “what’s wrong with her?”

Kai sighs, crossing his arms over his body with a sympathetic expression. “Well, I—”

The sound of heavy, urgent footsteps capture your attention, and you look to your side to see a nurse escorting Joe. His eyes land on you with a curious expression before he asks, “where is she?”

His voice is calm, but you know him well. Too well. Enough to know that he’s worried out of his mind, too. 

You gesture to the door a few inches away from you. “With the nurse.” Gesturing to Kai, you inform, “this is the doctor.”

There’s something about Joe’s presence that instantly calms you, allows your emotions to regulate just a little better. 

“Holy shit,” Kai breathes, and you look over to see he’s staring at Joe with bewilderment. “You’re–uh—is this her dad?” The question is posed to you, and you run your hand over your face, nodding. Kai clearly recognizes Joe, err, Roman, and is in a brief state of celebrity panic. Any other time, you’d understand it, but right now, you’re on the doorsteps of a nervous breakdown, and the medical professional in charge of Callie’s care being starstruck isn’t the least bit helpful.

“Yes,” Joe answers, his voice not unkind but not friendly either. “What’s wrong with my daughter?”

Kai clears his throat, snapping back into his professional shoes. “It seems like early stages of appendicitis. We call it acute appendicitis, meaning her appendix hasn’t ruptured yet, which is good.” He gazes at you, grateful. “You got her here just in time.”

His words do little to comfort you, because you’re still stuck on the first part. 

“Appendicitis?” You repeat, confused . “But–but she’s only four. How—”

“It’s not as uncommon in children as people think. Did you by any chance have one when you were younger?”

You have to think for a second, recognition then dawning. You’d completely forgotten about that borderline traumatic experience that was eerily similar to this. Waking your mom up because you were in a tremendous amount of pain and her calling 911 to rush you to the hospital. God, how could you not remember that until now? “Yes, yes, but I was—I was like 10.”

“So still a kid,” he confirms. Kai turns to Joe. “What about dad?”

“Yeah, I was twelve.” 

“Wait a minute.” You don’t know about Joe, but you certainly remember the outcome of your experience. “You—you don’t have to operate on her, right?” Scoffing, your words become difficult to express. “Kai, she’s—she’s too little for that. There’s—there’s another way, right?”

“Surgery is the best treatment—”

“No!” You cut him off, not wanting to hear this shit. “You’re not cutting her open, Kai. I–I won’t—-I won’t allow it.”

Joe finally addresses you, hand on the small of your back as he tries to get you to look at him. “Y/N….”

You jerk away, “I said no!” Turning back to Kai, you plead, eyes starting to burn again, “isn’t there—isn’t there something else you can do? Like medicine or—”

“Her appendix needs to be removed, Y/N. There’s no way around that.” Kai’s tone is full-on professional, borderline pleading, needing you to actually heed to his medical opinion. “The procedure is standard, should take about an hour, and it presents minimal risk. It’s really the best and safest option. If we don’t operate, inflammation could increase and eventually cause her appendix to rupture. Once that happens, because of her age, she becomes at an increasingly high risk for infection. And that could become fatal.” 

The word fatal sounds out everything else as you fall back against the wall, covering your mouth, unable to hold back the tears. “Oh my god.”

Joe looks at Kai, directring firmly. “Do it. Do it now.”

“I’ll book an OR.” Kai nods and you hear him say something else, but it’s all so distant and blurry. Fatal and Callie should never be in the same sentence, but right now it’s a reality that you can’t fathom. Your chest hurts, your stomach hollow, and head all over the place.

“I—it’s my fault,” you murmur to yourself or maybe Joe. You’re not entirely sure. “She—she told me her stomach was upset, but I—I didn’t listen. I just—I just gave her medicine and made her go to sleep.” You inhale sharply, eyes burning with salty tears. “She was in pain, and I didn’t listen to her. I didn’t—”

“Baby, look at me.” Before you realize it, Joe is in front of you, cupping your face and forcing your blurry gaze on him. “You did nothing wrong. There was no way for you to know what was happening.”

“I’m her mother, Joe—" you protest, sniffling, hands on his chest. “I’m supposed to know when something’s wrong. I’m–I’m supposed to protect her.”

“And you did,” he assures, pushing back some of your hair. “You heard the doctor. You got her here just in time. It could have been a lot worse.” He wipes away your tears, hating to see you so upset, so hard on yourself over a situation outside of your control. “You’re an amazing mother. Do you know why she’s such a great and happy kid? Because of you. Because you take such good care of her. You’ve raised her on your own, and look at how amazing she is. That’s all you. Why else do you think she’s so attached to you? Because you’re just as much her world as she is yours.” He pulls you into his chest, continuing to gently comfort you, “she’s gonna be fine, okay?” 

Being held in that moment, being held by Joe is exactly what you need. It centers you as much as one can be centered in this kind of situation. You find yourself holding onto him, embracing the comfort and support. 

Eyes shut, you murmur into his chest, “thank you for being here.”

You feel his hand move gently down your back, his mouth pressed to the top of your head. “Always.”

After a few minutes, maybe more, maybe less, you separate and wipe at your eyes. “Okay.” It’s trying to gather yourself before going back in the room, not wanting to scare her or make anything worse for her than it already is. “We–we need to tell her.”

“You want me to tell her?” He offers, and you’re thankful. He clearly sees how upsetting all of this is and is eager to support you anyway he can.  

“No,” you finally answer. “We’ll do it together.” 

Joe takes your hand and rubs his thumb across your knuckles, a kind, comforting gesture. Appreciated. You appreciate him so fucking much in this moment that it’s almost impossible to explain. Your calm in this storm, a voice of sound reason. Much needed advocate for your daughter as you fall victim to your emotions. 

He looks at you once more, assessing your readiness. A simple nod gives him the answer he needs, as he heads for the door, holding it open so you can enter first. 

The same nurse who so kindly recognized a need lifts her head with that same warm smile. Your eyes immediately land on Calista, who looks less pale than she was when you brought her in. She’s also no longer crying. That relieves you the most. A mother seeing her child cry is a kind of pain no one should ever have to experience. 

The pain meds must be kicking in. You’re immensely grateful.

But as quick as her eyes were on you, they bounce almost instantly to Joe, a larger smile growing. 

“Joe!” Even her voice is stronger, not as weak or weighed down with pain. 

“There’s my girl,” Joe greets, instantly at her side, kissing the top of her head. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“A little better, but my tummy still hurts.”

Allowing them their moment, you turn to the nurse who’s subtly backed away, also recognizing this is a moment that shouldn’t be intruded upon. She also subtly reaches you the clipboard with the ROI that you quickly fill out and hand back to her. “Thank you,” you whisper, hoping your eyes reveal just how much you appreciate her thoughtfulness.

“Of course,” she replies, giving a final look to Callie. “I’ll leave you all alone.” 

Once the door is shut and it’s just the three of you, you move to the other side of the hospital bed, seeing there’s a possible space to jump in and gently break the news to her. A shared glance with Joe followed by a nod is the answer you need as you take a deep breath.

“Calista….” As soon as she gazes at you, you recognize she knows something is up. You hardly ever use her full first name. “Baby, Joe and I talked to the doctor about what he needs to do to make you all better, and—and he said you’ve gotta have surgery to take the bad stuff out your stomach.”

Her brows cave together, confused. “What’s surgery?”

Joe jumps in, recognizing your initial difficulty with how to explain such a concept to a young child. “It’s when doctors give you medicine to make you go to sleep while they take the bad stuff out of you.”

She looks at him, a little more understanding, still obviously and understandably unsure. “Does it hurt?”

You answer, trying your best to keep your tone as calm as possible. “When you wake up, it may hurt a little but that’s cause it’s gotta heal.” 

Joe shares, and you’re so grateful for his partnership at this moment. For his ability to assist and tag team. “You wanna know something? Your mom and I had the same surgery when we were kids.”

She seems intrigued by this. “Really?” Nodding, you study her facial expressions, knowing her well enough to know that she’s struggling with her emotions. She’s not alone. 

Finally, after a minute of contemplation, she whispers, “I’m scared.” 

“It’s okay to be scared, Callie,” Joe assures. He's so damn good with her, gentle and patient. “Everyone gets scared.”

She looks over at him, asking innocently, “even you?”

“Of course,” he answers, vulnerably sharing, “I was scared when your mom called me and said she was taking you to the hospital.” The both of you were. That’s no call any parent wants to ever receive. 

She looks between the two of you. “Can you guys come with me?”

“We can’t go back with you, but we’ll be waiting right here for you as soon as you wake up.” Joe answers for you, thumb brushing over her forehead.

“You promise?”

 Lips pressed against her forehead, you vow, “we promise.”

—-------

As soon as Callie is taken back to the OR and the two of you are left alone in the waiting area, Joe begins to lift his hoodie over his head, suddenly reaching it to you. “Put this on.” 

You look at him, confused. “What?”

His eyes briefly trail your body, head to toe. “Do you realize what you're wearing?”

Brows furrowed, you look down and gasp. In the midst of adrenaline and flight or flight, your appearance never dawned on you. Your pajama set is short, skimpy, and shows off a slice of your stomach, not that you care too much about that. It’s more the fact that you’re not wearing a bra, and this waiting room is cold as fuck. 

You also realize your bonnet is still on your head. 

In short, you look a hot ass mess, more like someone waiting for admission to the psych ward instead of an anxious parent awaiting her daughter to get out of surgery. 

“Fuck.” The first thing you do is rip your bonnet off, deciding to keep your pineapple. Next is accepting Joe’s hoodie, sliding it over your frame. It’s understandably baggy, grazing just above your knees. “Thank you.” 

The two of you move over to the seating area as you sigh loudly, suddenly asking. “What time is it?”

He checks the watch on his wrist. “3:15.” 

You scoff, rubbing your eyes but not saying anything, leaning back into the seat, trying to not get too much into your head. It’s a difficult feat when your four-year-old child is under the knife for emergency surgery.

“The doctor…..” Joe starts, and you turn to look at him. “You called him by his first name.”

He doesn’t need to elaborate for you to understand his question. “We went to high school together.” If your intention was to keep your answer as casual and general as possible, you fail miserably because Joe 100% picks up on the unspoken words. 

“And?”

Shrugging, you explain, “we didn’t date per se, but we hooked up.” Looking back, you recognize how Kai was absolutely a rebound in between Amir and all his bullshit. And you do regret that, because Kai was always a genuinely nice guy. He didn't deserve to be caught up in your Joker-Harley Quinn ‘love’ story. 

“Fucking hell.” Joe looks away, genuinely annoyed, and for some reason, it makes you smile. The first of the night, err, morning. And you’re weirdly thankful for this conversation, for this distraction you wonder if he's intentionally providing you. “Do all your ex’s still live here? Why does nobody ever leave this town?”

You laugh, actually laugh, and it feels nice. A contrast from all of the heaviness you’ve experienced over the past few hours. 

Sucking your teeth, you respond, sassily. “I’m tired of you roasting my tiny little no name town.”

He eyes you curiously, clearly surprised by your reference. “You watch?”

“Occasionally,” you answer with a shrug. You don’t want to tell him you’ve found yourself increasingly watching Bloodline clips during the kids' lunchtime at school. Or at night when you don’t know what else to watch. Not when before his return, it was rare and in between you’d find yourself consuming anything WWE related, let alone with Roman Reigns. “Not a lot. Just enough to see how you’re doing exactly what I always knew you could do.” 

Joe stares, appreciatively, gently adding, “you always believed in me.” 

“Of course, I did.” It’s always been so visible and obvious. From the very beginning, you recognized his potential and knew he would excel once they finally released him from his shackles. You find yourself leaning against his body and grab onto his arm. “I could never have a bum for a baby daddy.”

You don’t have to be looking at him to know he’s rolling his eyes, that expression of his that’s a mixture of a scowl and smile. 

He doesn’t say anything after that, not immediately, and that’s okay, because just sitting here, with him, not alone and in your head is a great comfort.

“She has my last name.”

You look up at him, surprised and confused as to why he’s saying this like he didn’t already know it. But it’s in that looking at him, you see it’s because he clearly didn’t already know this.

He was unaware. 

Sitting up, you ask, “you didn't know?”

He shakes his head, explaining, “when I got here, I said I was here for Calista, and she said Calista Anoa’i.” That’s it. How he found out. How his daughter, who he hadn’t even known about up until not even two months ago, shared the same last name as him. All of these major life reveals being dropped on him like it’s nothing.

You feel terrible again, just for different reasons. 

“I never wanted to erase you from her life. I just—” It’s hard to explain something you’re starting to not even fully understand. In such a short timespan, Joe has done a tremendous job stepping into the role of dad. So much so that it has you deeply regretting depriving him of the almost first five years of her life.

Depriving yourself of having a partner to raise Callie with.

“I just went about it all wrong,” is the best you can land on to describe what you’re thinking and feeling. “And I'm sorry you found out like this. I guess, I just thought it would have come up by now.”

“It’s fine.” It’s not. He’s just trying to be mindful of where you are emotionally right now. Always considerate, despite his own feelings. 

Grabbing a hold of his arm, you lean into him again, eventually murmuring, “no, it’s not.” You’re starting to feel more and more like there was never a good enough reason to rob him of this, to have a child walking around this earth with his last name, his blood, and him be in the dark. Him being married was a factor, but it wasn’t a firm reason. “I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t ha—”

“Yes, I do,” you interrupt him, already knowing he’s going to try to pacify you, to try to convince you that it wasn’t that bad. Bullshit. “You missed out on so much, because of me, and I’m truly sorry, Joe. My own shit got i—”

“Excuse me?”

You sit upright, attention automatically redirected to the Caucasian woman in front of you with a bad bleach job, crows feet that probably contrast her actual age, and a clipboard. It’s the damn clipboard that kills your thought that maybe Callie is out her surgery and you guys can see her. 

Wishful thinking.

“Bill it,” is your short, curt reply as you lay back down against Joe’s arm. His eyes are on you, curious. 

The woman gives a small, fake laugh. “Excuse me?”

“You’re here to discuss insurance shit, right?” Her silence is the answer you need. “Well, I’m telling you to bill my insurance and then send me a bill.” 

She extends a more authentic smile to Joe, and you almost could swear you see the faintest hint of blush on her pale face. “Well, aren’t you three steps ahead?” When you don’t say anything, she awkwardly clears her throat and continues. “I actually wanted to know if you’d like to take advantage of this really great option we have where we give you an estimated cost and accept payment now so that—”

“Lady, my daughter is in surgery right now. I don’t give a scathing fuck about your great option. Bill it, and get the hell away from us.” Your words are blunt, coarse, and very much to the point. You couldn’t give two shits about anything she has to say if it’s not regarding Callie being out, up, and all better.

Joe chuckles above you, still saying nothing, just watching her walk away with her tail between her legs. “You had some restraint. I’m proud of you.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, eyes closing as you try to allow yourself to bask in the comfort he provides. It’s such a different experience. The last time you had to rush Callie to the ER, she was two, your mom was out of town on a women’s retreat, and Mariah was off on her honeymoon. It was just you, by yourself, waiting to find out what the hell was wrong with your toddler. 

Having someone with you in this moment, having him with you, means more to you than he could ever imagine.

“How’d you come up with her name?” He asks after a few moments of silence.

This brings a smile to your face, a genuine one that you actually feel in your body. “A book.” 

“Like a baby name book?” You should have known better. Joe is many things, a man of specificity being pretty high up there. 

You hesitate to respond. “Not exactly.”

He glances down, assessing your expression before tilting his head back. “You didn’t.”

“Hear me out.” 

“Did you seriously name our daughter after some character from one of your freaky ass sex books?” You’re grateful for the little laughter this conversation provides you, and it makes you realize how much this man must have missed you to remember that. To remember your guilty pleasure for smutty kindle books. Not so much as you’ve gotten older and just genuinely don’t have the time to read them.

Resting your chin against his massive arm, you defend, “first of all, rude. Secondly, it wasn’t even that freaky. Unfortunately.” He rolls his eyes and you continue, “the character was actually really interesting and not awful. And I’d never heard the name Calista before, so when I looked it up and saw it meant most beautiful….it just fit.” Toward the end of your pregnancy was when you fully allowed yourself to embrace being a mother, regardless of the circumstances. It was a blessing and beautiful experience, and you found yourself counting down the days until your due date. “Her middle name is Manaia.” 

He chuckles, softly. “That’s Samoan.”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you rest your cheek against him again. “I know…I told you, she’s just as much you as she is me.” 

—-------

Joe approaches the front desk, seeing a brunette woman scrolling on her phone with a bored expression. Understandable, given the room is empty sans a janitor making the rounds. It’s probably the first and last empty emergency room he’ll ever come across.

“Excuse me.”

She looks up, and her mouth parts, an instant smile growing. One he’s used to but wholeheartedly couldn’t care less about. 

“Hi.” Her tone is much more breathy than what’s necessary, some attempt at coming off flirtatious would be his guess. Zero shits are still given.

Joe doesn’t waste any time, already wanting to get back to you, even if he knows you went to go call your mom and let her know what happened. Still, he needs to, at the very least, get back before he has to feed you some bullshit excuse about where he was. “I need to add a new card on file for Calista Anoa’i.”

She leans forward, chin in her hand, uneven, needle thin eyebrows wiggling. “Are you dad?”

Obviously. “Yes.”

“Lucky kid.” He’d take a good guess that she doesn’t recognize him, which for that, he’s grateful. She just finds him attractive, which is still irritating and unprofessional as hell. Have an attraction, but don’t be so vocal and desperate. “Mom too.”

Ignoring her comment, he grabs his wallet, pulling out his card and sliding it over.

“Do—”

“Change it to the default payment,” he instructs, not in the mood for whatever else she wants to try. It’s all in vain. He has eyes for one woman only, and it certainly isn’t her. “Is there any way you can set it up for autopay?”

She gives Joe a strange expression, like she questions his ability to consent. Because no one in their right mind would authorize a hospital to have such power with their money. “Umm, we can, but it’s really not recommended because you can never guarantee just how much insurance will and won’t cover. So, if they deny the claim in its entirety, then they’ll charge the entire balance—”

“That’s fine,” he cuts her off. “Just do it, and make sure any future charges go to that card only.” He thinks about it, asking, “matter of fact, can you take mom’s card off file altogether?” Joe knows you’re gonna bite his head off for this, and he doesn’t care. He knows medical bills can get costly, and you’re not making bank on a teacher’s salary. The least he can do is take care of his daughter’s medical costs.

“Uhh, sure, as long as you understand—”

“Money isn’t an issue. At all. Do it.”

She shakes her head but types away eventually reaching Joe his card. “All done. You can call and change it at any—”

“I won’t.” And that’s a fact. “Thank you.” 

Joe doesn’t give her a chance to respond or try anything else, turning to head back to the waiting area and is relieved when you return only minutes after he’s sat down. 

“Well, as expected, she’s upset I didn’t call her but calmed down a little bit when I told her you’ve been here with me,” you catch him up, sitting down next to him again. “And she’s on her way. She wants us to go back to my place to get some sleep.” 

Immediately, he protests. “We can’t leave Callie.”

You open your mouth to mostly agree with him when you hear footsteps and feel your stomach flutter seeing Kai heading in your direction.

He gets straight to the point. “Surgery was successful. She’s gonna be fine.” There are no words to properly describe your relief. The past hour felt like the longest period of your life and to know that it wasn’t in vain is so utterly comforting. 

“Thank God,” you breathe, also standing up with Joe. “Thank you, Kai.” You briefly close your eyes, shaking your head and correcting yourself. “I’m sorry, uhh. Dr. Sawyer.” 

“Come on, Y/N. I’ll always just be Kai to you.” It’s said so innocently, and it’s also then you notice the wedding band on his left hand. But, Joe must be giving him a look, because he’s suddenly awkwardly clearing his throat. “Because she’s so young, I'd like to keep her a couple more days to monitor her.”

“Of course,” you agree. There’s no protest at your daughter having medical personnel surrounding her at all times following a surgical procedure. 

He nods and starts to walk away when you remember something, catching him and moving away from Joe to speak privately. 

“Ummm…..” you haven't a clue how to approach nor explain this but try your best. “Joe…..he’s just now in her life. She—she doesn’t even know he’s her dad. It’s….a long, complicated story, but we’re trying to keep everything private—”

He says your name, interrupting you, “ever heard of HIPAA? None of what happened tonight leaves this emergency room.” You nod, slightly assured. “And if it makes you feel any better, I’ll remind the nurses of that too.’

That gives you all of the relief. The last thing you want or need is this becoming fodder for the media. One of the many reasons you love your town is how off the grid it is with a lot of things. Most of them probably wouldn’t even recognize Joe, and the few who do would never dare speak of it outside of this same town, respecting that he’s still a human being. 

“Thank you, Kai. Seriously.” 

He offers you such a genuine smile and adds, “I’m glad I got to see you, Y/N. The circumstances weren’t the best, but I’m pleased to see you ended up happy.” He starts to walk backwards, adding with a slight smirk. “About time you moved on from the likes of Amir and Mariah.”

That throws you for a loop. You understand the part about Amir, but Mariah?

What did he mean by that?

You don’t really have time to think about it, because Joe is at your side, holding your hand and reminding you that you two need to get back in the room for Callie. That’s enough to put the confusion about what just occurred to the back burner. 

Thankfully, when they roll Callie back into her room, she’s still slightly out of it from the anesthesia. But when she comes to, she’s thrilled to see the both of you and announces in a small, proud voice, “I did it.”

It gives you another genuine laugh, and the two of you enjoy her, your brave, sweet little girl. 

As you expected, your mom enters the room, immediately going and comforting Callie. She gives you a little slap on your arm for not calling her, still upset about that. 

That’s also expected.

What isn’t entirely expected is your mom talking to Callie about why you and Joe need to go home for a little bit to rest because you’re tired too. She’s not entirely wrong, Now that you’re out of the flight of it all, you’re crashing and crashing hard. Even Joe looks tired. 

Surprisingly, your mom is able to get Callie to agree with this. It takes more convincing for Joe, but he also eventually relents. And instead of driving all the way to your place, you suggest you two just go to his hotel room which is closer to the hospital.

That’s an easy sell for him. 

Reaching the hotel, you convince Joe to shower first, as you have something you need to take care of. It takes some convincing, but he eventually agrees. Once you hear the shower running, you pull out your phone, surprised to see it hasn’t died and has enough, hopefully, for you to shoot out one more message. 

One you’ve been putting off, but desperately need, especially as of the last 24 to 48 hours. 

Alexis,

Hi. I know it’s been a couple of weeks since my last email, and I’m sorry. I would text you, but I have no idea where in the world you are right now or if you have reception. So, email it is. A lot….a lot has happened. Joe is back in the picture, and he knows about Callie. But, interestingly enough, that’s not an issue at all. He’s so good with her, and she already clearly loves him so much. We haven’t told her he’s her dad, but he plans to do it for Christmas. Callie also had to have emergency surgery last night. Her appendix. That was….a lot. She’s good now, made it out of surgery fine. Thank God. Also, Joe’s divorced. And he more or less told me he wants us to be together, and I don’t know how to feel about that. Sorry, this is all over the place. Joe and I have been up all night with Callie at the hospital, so my brain isn’t working. I just needed to send this now, because I keep forgetting, and I miss you and could really use some advice right now. I need my long distance best friend. 

Love,

Your favorite college roomie

You should probably reread your email before sending it, but that requires energy, and you’re literally operating on fumes. When Joe steps out of the bathroom, shirtless, you don’t even bat an eye, which is unlike you. You’ve always been insanely attracted to him, for obvious reasons. 

You just accept the shirt he offers, close the bathroom door, strip naked and step into the shower. So exhausted, you don’t even realize until halfway through you forgot to use the shower cap but thankfully only a little bit of your hair gets wet.

Not that it matters. Even washing yourself is such a task. 

You’re out of the shower as soon as you feel adequately clean, rid of hospital germs. You don’t even care that the shirt is the only thing covering your otherwise nude body, breast stretching against the cotton. 

It is what it is. 

Stepping out of the bathroom with your clothes tucked under your side, you settle on placing them on a nearby chair. Or maybe it’s a table. You’re not too sure nor do you care all that much. You just need to sleep. 

But, it’s also when you see he’s moving toward the sofa, you know you need something else. 

Someone.

“Joe.”

He turns around, and you move over to him, reaching for his hand. The tug is slight but enough to have him follow your guidance toward the bed where you switch positions so he falls on his back. Moving to the side of the mattress, you climb into the bed and turn on your side, back toward him. You don’t need to ask, because his strong arm is suddenly around you, pulling you into his hard chest.

Sighing in content, you allow his mouth to graze your temple as he pulls the blankets over the both of you.

Hand on his thick forearm that’s keeping you close against him, you murmur, “Callie comes first. We get her straight, make sure she’s okay.” You roll on your back, meeting his telling gaze. “Then we figure out us.”

Joe is staring down at you with an affection you hadn’t realized you missed so deeply until this moment. He doesn’t say anything, just nods in acknowledgment and caresses your cheek. Grateful and tired of so much thinking, you push your body against his, shifting with him as moves onto his back and keeps you close against him.

He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you, because none of that matters in that moment. You don’t need to think about anything, don’t want to think about anything, just want to be close to him, just be with the man you’re almost certain now that you never stopped loving. 

And also now wonder if he once felt the same, still feels the same. 

If he’s always felt the same way. 

[smutty-ki113r]

🛩Masky🛩||Toxic

NSFW||~ One shot x afab gn!reader, includes- vouyerism, pleasure dom masky, mirror play, teasing, edging, pilot masky, minors—dni (3.4k)

Inspired by: Britney Spears

(Fun fact I wrote this on the plane 😗)!

Working as a flight attendant was such a hassle, keeping you up at ungodly hours and having you deal with customers that complained about their seat. But it certainly had its perks, learning how to balance 4000 ft in the air and ending up in some incredible places, layovers in Hawaii, Dubai, Spain. Out of all these things you never would have imagined joining the mile high club…

You had an hour to get from terminal 1 to 3, your last flight was to Miami, so you were at MIA, looking around for a bathroom. Fixing up your hair quickly and adjusting your uniform before reaching the gate.

The other attendants were also waiting to the side, you were early. Of course you had to board the plane beforehand to check the seats and restock the drink cart.

There was only a few passengers waiting around too, you swayed against your luggage. Looking around to see the two pilots that would be driving the plane walking towards you, one of them you had flown with before, Brian Thomas.

The other one, particularly, caught your eye- probably because you had caught his first. Your heart skipped a beat and you gave him a friendly smile, then averted your gaze to avoid being awkward.

You had never seen him, he was probably new, laughing at something Brian said, but his sight was on you.

The corner of his lip was raised just slightly, he was practically undressing you with his eyes. You couldn’t even complain, he was hot as fuck, and he was flustering you. But his face remained innocent, nobody noticed but you.

He had this dark brown hair and defined features, he was classy, wearing his white uniform and a tie, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to how it fit him so perfectly. His build so defined- you stopped from staring at his pants.

If there’s one thing you loved it was a man in uniform.

Nobody had ever flirted with you on the job, and while no words were exchanged, you could feel his burning gaze.

You gulped and tried to look ahead, relieved when they called for all the attendants to board, it took the pressure off.

You took your post at the front of the plane and awaited for the passengers to board to then do the safety demonstrations and make sure everybody had their seatbelts on.

Soon enough zone 1 people started coming and you greeted them all, the door to the cockpit opened and you found yourself face to face with the pilot, glancing at his name embroidered in gold.

“Wright” you said softly, meeting his gorgeous eyes.

“yeah like the Wright brothers” he joked, looking you up and down and giving you a subtle smirk.

“That’s fitting” you told him. “Nice to meet you…”

“Tim” he finished, catching your name as well. “We’re about to take off, be a dear and get me some water will you?” He requested.

Nodding obediently and scurrying off to find him some water, he watched you go. Knocking on the door to the pit to alert them of your arrival and handing him the drink.

“Thank you gorgeous” he said, your face turning red at the compliment and instead moving to greet the other pilot, Brian nodded to you and you left.

Your thoughts remained on the beautiful man and you mindlessly did your rounds before the plane took off. Strapping in and listening to the men over the intercom.

“And we are ready for departure, flight 113 from MIA to JFK”

Smiling at yourself at the thought of your one day vacation in New York City. You wanted to go shopping and maybe visit the Statue of Liberty.

It was two hours into the grueling flight, your ears had already popped from the altitude, you never did get used to that.

You sat at the back, passing around the cart once and letting your other fellow flight attendants do the rounds for trash and such. You were all alone, looking out the window, your head in the clouds, and being almost startled as you saw the handsome man approach.

“I thought you were driving this thing” you whisper-hissed.

“Brian’s doing it, I’ve been at the wheel for almost three hours” he said, stressed. Flexing his arms out and stretching, leaning against a wall.

You couldn’t help but stare at his hands, his thick fingers, how you wished he could fill you up and make you pant out his name and-

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts and getting up, “you can have my seat if you want” he was probably exhausted.

“Sit back down” he said, his tone low. You did as he said; a tingle in between your legs at how commanding he was.

“I just came here to get a- snack” he said slowly, smiling as if he wasn’t looking at up and down you when he said that.

“I can make you something if you like” you offered, his tense posture relaxed.

“You’re a godsend, yeah, I’ll take a black coffee” you nodded attentively and got up to make his drink. Focusing on making sure it didn’t spill and stirring it for him.

Turning to him and handing him the drink, he took a sip and set it down on the counter. “Thank you beautiful”

You shook your head, it was nothing, “yeah of course” you laughed nervously, “whatever you need” you told him in a passing tone.

His gaze pierced through you, “whatever I need?” He said, his voice teasing, dripping with desire.

Right then you knew you had made a grave mistake, gulping and looking away. He approached you, his lips so close to your ear, tucking hair behind your ear and letting his fingers brush upon your neck.

God damn turbulence betrayed you, swaying the plane and making you lose your footing and slide right into him. His hand at your waist to keep you upright.

“Now that you mention it” he whispered in your ear. “There was something else…and I’m still hungry” his gentle touches were making you weak at the knees.

You glanced behind him but nobody was watching, you were afraid of what would happen if you were caught, he seemed to notice.

“I’ll be careful” he promised, his head an inch away from being buried in the crook of your neck, and he smelled so good, like this expensive manly cologne.

“We’ll be quick” his words so soothing and convincing you. There was already a feverish throbbing at your clit that you severely needed to attend to. A wave of desperate heat at your lower abdomen that you craved for him to satisfy.

You couldn’t resist this man, he had a mesmerizing effect on you. So you focused on his lustful gaze as he walked you back into one of the bathrooms, locking the door behind him and wasting no time in leaning down to kiss you.

Tim sealed the small space separating the two of you, a knee already in between your legs because of how compact the space was. You let out a few pants at the way he rubbed you, unable to stop yourself even though there might have been people just outside that door.

His kisses passionate and needy, like he had been craving you ever since the moment he laid eyes on you. And everything he did was intoxicating, you were so receptive to him, slick already gathering in your panties as he met your lips in an open kiss and bit down on your lip, nibbling and teasing you,

There was barely any space in that bathroom, moving around and escaping him would be difficult, it almost didn’t give you a choice, but Tim felt so good, you couldnt help but whisper his name in need.

“Oh fuck” he cursed, “your kisses are so delicious” he reached a hand down to your stomach, trailing it down your torso to your most intimate area, replacing his knee and pressuring your cunt gently through your skirt, “I wanna know if the rest of you tastes just as good”

Your breath hitched when he hoisted you on the small counter, your pussy embarrassingly wet at every one of his touches. He spread your knees open and bent down to get to work.

“So this is what you meant by hungry” you said in the middle of the heated moment.

His eyes met yours and you gulped at the mischievous glint swirling his pupils. Feeling a throb at the view of the captain on his knees. “Exactly” He chuckled lowly and pressed his lips to your thighs impatiently, sinking his teeth into your soft skin and leaving marks nobody would know about but him.

You whined, having to bite your lip to stop yourself from letting any lewd noises escape. “Oh god” you whispered, when he finally got to your pussy. It was too much tension, his hot breath lingering where his teeth marks lay, and now- right on your clit.

He hooked his fingers to your panties and brought them down, amused at the wet spot on them. Now there was nothing else below that short skirt. Your body involuntarily bucked forward, and his big hands held you in place. “Impatient are we?”

But he was just as rushed as you, it was supposed to be a quickie in the bathroom not lovemaking. If you wanted to do that later he would gladly lay you down in a proper bed and do so, but for now all he was focused on was your pussy glistening with your juices that he so desired.

Bringing his lips to you and lapping a stripe up your slit before opening you up and tasting you in full. Groaning at the sensation of your sex clenching around his tongue while he fucked you with it.

His fingers digging into your skin to bring you closer to his face and encourage you to ride as wildly as you pleased. You weren’t one to resist, your knuckles white as you held onto a handle on the wall and the roof above you. Praying that the passengers on the plane thought the rough movement was from turbulence and nothing more.

Tim ate like a starved man, in a way you had never felt before. There was no stopping him either, he wouldn’t cease his tongue fuck until he was satisfied, and nothing would please him more than you gushing over him enough to let him know you were ready for something much larger.

Besides, he couldn’t get his eyes off you, he was particularly enjoying making you squirm at the brink of your first release. He liked teasing you this much, it showed him that he held all the power, and you were wrapped around his finger. Technically you were, when he slipped one in and curled it in your soft spot.

His lips sucked at your bundle of nerves hard enough to make you spasm and clench your legs around his head, everything was going according to his plan. “Yeah? Does that feel good?” He asked, taking a breath and dipping another digit inside your dripping pussy.

You struggled to keep your voice bellow a whisper, but he didn’t seem to care about a possible audience. All he was focused on was pulling more of those pretty cries from your swollen lips. “Yes-yes” you repeated.

Your brows furrowing at the pleasure he was providing you with, and Tim himself was getting off at just the taste of you. His cock twitching in his uniform pants, he was painfully hard so he had to take himself out and stroke when you creamed on his tongue.

“You taste so sweet honey” he praised, “I love it when you struggle to speak because I’m making you cum with just my tongue” he smirked. The flat of his tongue once again swirling your swollen clit enough to make you let out a mutter of incoherent nonsense.

Too drunk off the bliss you couldn’t argue back, you didn’t want to. It was like you were in heaven, preforming acts that were so sinful they would have led you to hell.

“T-Tim” you gasped, “I’m close” you warned him, “gonna cum”

Once again he started eating you like you were his las meal on earth, your eyes rolled back in delight. But he wasn’t going to let you get off that easily, you should have known. “Not until you ask for permission”

He pulled his touch away slightly, enough to keep you just at the edge of your orgasm for a bit longer.

“Please” you cried, tears in your eyes. “Can I please cum, captain?”

The man saw the look on your face but just cooed, “you haven’t said my name” he reminded you.

“Captain wright” you babbled “captain wright”, again and again because once you spoke the magic words he just kept going faster. Pumping his thick fingers in and out of your sopping hole hard enough to make you come undone. Crying out for him and gripping onto the edge of the counter to restrain yourself.

“That’s right, just like that” he coaxed, helping you ride down from your climax so perfectly, You were thankful that he was there to hold you steady. Lapping at your release before standing up again and pressing his bare cock to your entrance.

“Gonna need you to beg for this one too” he said, to fuel his ego and also for consent reasons. His lips to your neck now. You had barely managed to come down from such ecstasy before registering what he was asking.

But you were far too gone, your cunt still clenching for him. There was nothing you wanted to do more than to satisfy him like he did you. Nodding and letting a few “please’s” to let him know you craved it too.

“Mhm that’s what I thought”, you could hear the cockiness in his voice, looking down to see if he had the package to back it up but your jaw hug open once you felt it. Prodding at you and letting his precum mix in with your slick.

“‘S not gonna fit” you said in a hiccup, eyes wide and narrowed at his heavy cock that pressed against your slit as you dripped on him. “It’s too big” you squeaked.

“Oh it’ll fit” he panted, mimicking the motions of sex but just grinding himself raw on you. “I’ll make it fit” he hissed. Finally rolling his hips into you in one swift movement. “Fuck” he cursed under his breath, it was quite a tight fit, enough to make him pause because he didn’t want to cum instantly.

A stray groan fell from your mouth but he caught it with his own, meeting you in a heated embrace. His hands on either side of you, pressing prints onto the mirror behind you. He pulled out and thrusted back in, working a good pace. You slowly acclimated to his thick girth with every stroke in your pussy.

Even with the stretch it felt so delicious, your hands clutching his once ironed uniform into wrinkled bunches. There was barely any space in that god forsaken bathroom, but it just gave him the excuse to stay closer to you. That and he just had to give smaller, quicker thrusts.

His big cock splitting you open time and time again, his tip reaching your cervix, thudding against your g spot in a way that made you squeeze him like a vice.

A hand keeping your knee open while he fucked you, practically pounding you. Making you lose your breath and your head go fuzzy. “You’re so tight” he hissed, “practically milking me”

He was panting, pulling out momentarily to turn you around and fuck you doggystyle. Except now, you could see your reflection and his own. The whole image of the captain pounding your pussy till it turned red on full display for you. A grin making its way to his lips, he liked seeing you struggle to fit him fully.

But the look on your face and the way you gripped around him told him that you wanted it, that and those obscene noises you were making every time he hilted. “Thats a good, pretty baby” he rasped, “servicing all your captains’ needs”

You looked at his eyes in the mirror, a pout on your lips from how he was acting. A hand making it’s way to your chin to redirect your gaze to your own body. “Watch yourself” he whispered, his breath hot on your ear.

“Look at yourself while you take all of me” he panted, and you felt yourself melt at the obscenity of his words. “I want you to see how good I’m fucking you”

Doing as he said and feeling his balls clap against your ass, it was almost more unholy to watch your expression and the way he made your body bounce back and forth on his cock.

“Do you see it?” He asked, “that fucked out look on your face from how deep my cock is right now”, a gentle touch at your lower abdomen to press where he was bulging. “Here, all the way inside that slutty little hole of yours” he teased.

It was all too lewd, you felt yourself sizzling with desire, about to burst again if he kept whispering those sweet words in your ear.

“You look so hot when I’m inside of you” he praised. “Mhm with me stretching you out, you’re so hungry for it” he growled. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes sir”, You were struggling to piece together your words, the ones you could were just ‘more- more more more”, so thats exactly what you said.

“Please” you cried “please sir, more”,

Your noises getting a bit too out of control, he had to discipline you. A hand moving to your lips to hold your mouth as he told you to be quiet, but that almost made it worse. Now the sound of the lewd squelch and clapping of balls was the only thing that could be heard along with your muffled groans and pants.

“Shh that’s right” he said, softly. “Just keep taking it, just let me take care of you” you nodded at the finger at your lips telling you to be silent. “stay and let me fuck that pretty pussy just a bit longer.”

You bit your tongue and did as he instructed, trying to hold on but the throbbing at your cunt was aching. “Please captain, let me cum” you whispered.

Meeting his eyes through the mirror and he seemed to relent, it’s not like he would hold on much longer either. You were squeezing him too tight, and he couldn’t pull out too much, there wasn’t any space in that damn little cabin.

His hand gripped the rails to steady himself, the other at your ass to take a handful of. “You’ve been good, go ahead, you can cum” he whispered in your ear.

It felt like such a relief, shivers going down your spine and directly to your pussy. “I’m cumming-“ you warned, fluttering around him as you found your release.

“That’s a good baby just let yourself go” he said in a raspy tone, his fingers digging so deep into your ass there would definitely be marks. “Let your captain take care of you”

Your legs were weak, trembling as he hilted and spilled deep inside of your hole, groaning into your shoulder as he filled you up.

His cock twitching as you squeezed him until his balls were empty. Eventually he pulled out, his release dripping out from your hole and down your legs.

His big hands helped you pull up your panties once again, it wasn’t much help concealing the act, your hair was all disheveled and your cheeks rosy.

His release still inside of you a lewd reminder of what had just transpired on the planes bathroom.

“You did so good for me” he praised, making sure you were good before sending you off.

He put your skirt in place, “welcome to the mile high club” he whispered with a chuckle, “have a safe flight now”