#A Week-by-Week Guide for Expecting Moms

[drdad-pregnancytopreventing]

Tips for a Healthy Pregnancy, Pregnancy Health Tips, Pregnancy is a beautiful journey, but it also comes with challenges. To ensure a healthy pregnancy, it’s essential to focus on nutrition, lifestyle, and medical care. More Information visit to drdad.in website.

[pandaspwnz]

Whoever decided it was a good idea to bake a pie on a fucking wednesday afternoon is a goddamn clown and should be dropkicked into the sun

[ivyues]

Anxious Introductions: Stray Kids’ reactions to their S/O being nervous to meet the members

Bang Chan

Chris had been trying to bring up the subject of you meeting his members for weeks, but you always seemed to shy away whenever he mentioned it.

"Hey, they’re just as nervous to meet you as you are to meet them," he says softly.

You nod, taking a deep breath. "I just know how much they mean to you, and I want it to go well."

His smile grows warm, and he leans in to hug you. "You mean so much to me too. They’ll see how amazing you are."

The day you finally meet them, he keeps an arm around your waist, introducing you like it’s the proudest moment of his life. The members greet you with wide smiles, Chris whispering, "See? Told you they'd love you."

Lee Know

As you fix your hair nervously for the third time, your boyfriend smirks from his spot on the couch. "You’re this anxious to meet them? I should be offended" he teases, his tone light. "You're going to be fine. You already survived Han Jisung."

What you don’t know is that Minho had already had a talk with the other members earlier. He had casually, but firmly, told them, Don’t scare her off. It wasn’t a full-on threat, but the members knew better than to push their luck.

When you walked into the dorm, you’re surprised by how calm everyone seems. They greet you warmly, none of the overwhelming antics Han had warned you about.

"See? Nothing to worry about," Minho whispers smugly, his shoulder warm against yours. Though, over the course of your next visits, the true nature of their antics slowly revealed itself to you.

Changbin

Changbin glances over at you in the car and notices you biting your nails, a telltale sign of your nerves. He doesn’t say anything at first, just reaches over to gently take your hand away from your mouth.

"Hey, don’t do that," he says softly, intertwining your fingers with his. "You’re way too amazing to be this nervous."

You give him a small, shy smile, but he’s not done. "Seriously, you’re smart, funny, beautiful, and my mom likes you already – and she hasn’t even met you. The members don’t stand a chance; they’re going to love you."

When you arrive at the dorm, he keeps his hand on the small of your back as he opens the door.

"Guys!" he calls dramatically, a wide grin on his face. "Meet my amazing girlfriend!"

The sudden loud introduction makes you shrink back slightly, your cheeks flushing as you glance at the group of curious but welcoming faces looking your way.

Hyunjin

As you nervously bite your lip, your mind races about what to expect from meeting Hyunjin's members. The more you think about it, the more anxious you become. Hyunjin notices, his eyes softening. He gently takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Hey, it's okay," he says in a soothing voice, guiding you toward the door. "They’re really excited to meet you, and they’re not as scary as you think." He smiles, his voice low and comforting.

You glance at him, managing a nervous smile. "I just don’t want to make a bad first impression," you admit softly.

He squeezes your hand again. "You’re going to be fine," he reassures you. "Just be yourself."

When you walk inside, the members greet you enthusiastically, but the nervous energy is still radiating off of you. Hyunjin stands close to you, subtly nudges you and, with a playful glint in his eye, whispers, “See? They’re just like me – except a little louder.”

Throughout the evening, he stays by your side, always checking in to make sure you're okay. As the members warm up to you, you start to feel more comfortable, smiling at their funny tendencies.

Han

Han’s excitement is contagious. He’s practically dragging you towards the dorm, rambling about how cool his members are and how cool you are.

"They’re going to love you!"

When you hesitate at the door, he grins mischievously. "Honestly, I’ve already told them everything about you. They probably know you better than I do at this point."

When you give him an awkward smile, he grins. "That means they are propably going to tease me, not you."

The moment you walk in, the members indeed start to playfully tease him. "Finally, we meet the famous girlfriend Han won’t shut up about!" Hyunjin laughs.

You find yourself laughing, making your nerves disappear, as Han dramatically protests, "I didn’t talk that much… okay, maybe I did. But you would too if you had an girlfriend that amazing!"

Felix

Felix notices the way you’re nervously smoothing out your clothes. He gives you a warm hug, his voice soft and soothing. "I know you’re nervous, but you don’t have to be. You’re everything to me, and they’ll see that too."

You glance at him, biting your lip. "I just... I know they’re protective of you, and I get it. You’re so kind, and I don’t want them to get the wrong impression."

He gives you a warm smile. "They’ll love you. How could they not? But if it helps, just focus on me, okay?"

When the door opens and the members’ boisterous voices echo through the hallway, you freeze slightly, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Felix squeezes your hand reassuringly and gently tugs you forward.

"Guys, this is my girlfriend," he says with quiet pride, his voice cutting through the chatter.

Despite your nerves, the members’ smiles and welcoming energy slowly ease the tension. Felix stays close, occasionally brushing your hand with his or sneaking you a small grin.

Seungmin

Seungmin doesn’t say much about your nerves but quietly prepares for it. On the way, he shares a bunch of embarrassing stories about the members to make you laugh.

"Just remember – they’re the weird ones, not you," he says with a small smirk.

When you meet the members, his calm presence feels grounding, like an anchor amidst the unfamiliar chaos. The members immediately start asking you questions and trying to make conversation – partly because they’re genuinely curious about you and partly to tease Seungmin.

He’s surprisingly talkative, steering the conversation to keep things flowing smoothly. Every now and then, he looks over at you with a reassuring smile, silently letting you know he’s there for you. You find yourself relaxing, thanks to his steady presence and subtle encouragement.

I.N

Jeongin notices your silence as you both approach the dorm, your hands nervously clasped together. He gives your hand a squeeze and flashes you a boyish grin.

"Don’t worry, they’re just a bunch of big kids – except for me, obviously," he says with a teasing tone.

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. "You being their baby doesn’t help. If anything, it makes it worse."

He laughs, the sound light and teasing. "Okay, fair. But if I’m their baby, that just means it's a bigger thing that I'm bringing you over. You? You’ll be safe."

He grabs your hand and confidently introduces you, showering you with compliments in front of the members. "See? My girlfriend is amazing!" You can’t help but smile at his infectious energy.

masterlist

[ozzgin]

Can't stop thinking about werewolf boyfriend carrying their tiny SO by the collar of their shirt like a mom does to pups LOL

content: gender neutral reader, NSFW

Your service werewolf is extremely caring. Which was to be expected, really, as you've been told when you picked him up from the monster agency. "He's a little protective, that one," you were warned by the receptionist.

One particular habit irks you to no end, yet you cannot seem to convince him otherwise: he tends to carry you like a pup everywhere.

"I'll need a shower after this," you whine, standing up lazily from your bed, freshly ravaged by your beastly boyfriend. You immediately realize your mistake.

Without delay, his fangs gently reach for the nape of your neck, lifting you up and carrying you to the bathroom. Mind you, it's not a painful process by any means; the pressure is just enough to secure you in his grip. To you, however, it's some sort of shameful display, being dragged across the floor, still naked and dripping with his load.

Even worse, it's not a private affair.

Last week, you'd become rather overwhelmed by the social event you attended. Your loyal partner could immediately sense your rapid pulse, your weakening knees, the cold sweat coating your forehead.

To his credit, he at least guided you away from the main crowd before performing his motherly duties. That's some strong fabric, you thought to yourself, carried away like a maiden in distress.

He just loves you too much, you see. You're much safer in his hold. Besides, he adores having you this close to him - taking in your scent, feeling your skin with his tongue.

[Emotional Support Werewolf] | [Service Vampire]

[moonmunson]

hello my old heart

a/n: wally clark has invaded my brain space and i cannot seem to rid him from my mind his himbo charms have seduced me. just in my mind this is set in the late '90s, but mr. martin isn't evil. none of the other kids are really mentioned by name, but this would be a few years after charley's death. as always i'm writing with a plus sized!reader in mind but anyone can read it.

summary: struggling with becoming comfortable in death, wally has made himself your new buddy.

cw: general angst and sadness over being dead, wally is a sweetheart who just wants to help. hurt/comfort with a sweet ending and a little bit of kissing. gn!reader, theatre kid x jock

wc: 2.1k

You think you’ve been dead for a little over a week. It’s hard to tell - time moves so differently here. It feels like static on the skin, the way the TV screen feels fuzzy when you touch it after it's been turned off. You haven’t spoken much, and the other dead kids don’t expect you to for a while. They’ve all told you that everyone reacts differently to their death, that there’s no right or wrong way to cope. 

You’re worried that if you open your mouth, it’ll be difficult to stop crying. Or screaming, or both. So you sit quietly in the circle in the gymnasium, listening as Mr. Martin leads the support group meeting. You’re appreciative of his trying to get you to open up, but you’re only capable of responding in nods and shrugs. When it’s over, you go to make your way back to the auditorium. It might be weird to some, considering you died there, but it’s still the place you feel the safest.

A few steps out of the gym, you hear pounding footsteps coming up next to you. It’s Wally, because of course it is. He’s dubbed himself your ‘Unofficial death guide.’ He’s the sweetest, and you wish you could actively participate in conversation with him. 

“You goin’ back to the auditorium?” When he talks, you have to crane your head to the right and all the way up because he’s so fucking tall. You nod, and he parrots it. 

“I don’t know how you can go back to that place. I couldn’t even look at the football field for like a week after I died.” Even when you don’t respond, Wally keeps going. “I also don’t know how you stand sharing a space with Mina. She's, like, totally scary.” He makes a face then, pinched up, like he’s imagining being trapped in a room with the other, objectively more aggressive theatre ghost.

It makes you giggle. Like, audibly giggle. Wally’s eyes widen, surprised that he was able to get a noise out of you. He laughs in return, a breathless exhale. He’s clearly proud of himself. 

“I have got to get you to do that again.” You shake your head no, even though the smile hasn’t left your face. “I’m serious, I have got to hear that laugh again!” 

When you round the corner near the front office, you stop in your tracks, the smile on your face quickly fading. Your mom and dad are there, holding a box with everything that was in your locker. It’s a weird feeling. You hadn’t forgotten you were dead, obviously, but everything had felt very up in the air.

Like the moment before a show starts - everyone sitting in the audience, the curtain still down to block the view of actors taking their places. Like limbo. Seeing your parents, their tear stricken faces, that makes it feel real. Too real. The sharp breath you take in alerts Wally to the fact that something is wrong, and he follows your gaze to the two adults standing at the front desk. 

“Oh shit, are those your parents?” Wally asks, his voice taking a softer tone. He has a volume control problem, everyone knows it, and you’re appreciative that he’s quieted down for this.

You nod, a small jerk of your head. He brings a tentative hand up to your shoulder, and when you don’t move away, he places it more firmly. “I’m so sorry, y/n. I really am. Do you wanna go up and see them?” 

You don’t answer, you just walk away. Wally calls after you, but doesn’t follow. 

The auditorium truly is your safe space. You were never brave enough to actually perform anything, though your teacher had begged you to. She’d heard you singing to yourself one day, and asked why you’d never auditioned for anything. You’d just deflected and said the stage fright would make you freeze. She’d been understanding, but encouraged you to think about auditioning for the show this year. 

You were a senior, it’d been your last opportunity to be in the spotlight, but by the time auditions came around you’d chickened out. The hidden disappointment on your teacher’s face wasn’t so hidden, but she made sure you had your usual spot on the tech and run crew portion of the show.

You died a few weeks later, tripping off of the stage while setting up a set piece and breaking your neck falling into the orchestra pit. Like a sick fucking joke. 

Now, you sit in the audience, gazing at the stage. It’s still blocked off by crime tape. The show for the end of the year has been effectively cancelled on account of your dying. ‘Postponed indefinitely’ is the term the overhead announcements had used, but you all knew what that actually meant. It just wasn’t gonna happen. 

You mostly just feel numb. Obviously your death isn’t something you could ever prepare for, and just like every other ghost in the building, your life had been unfairly cut short. Just like everyone else, you’d had plans for the rest of your life. None of them solid or reliable, but you’d had some idea of what you wanted your life to look like. A well paying job that you genuinely enjoyed, maybe a husband or wife and a few kids. All of that is gone now. 

Your parents in the front office felt like a kick to the gut, salt in the wound. The look on your mom’s face, the way your dad was cradling the box of your things like if he held tight to it enough it would bring you back.. it was too much to bear.

And Wally, sweet, kind, Wally. He’s been trying really hard with you, and you can’t even work up the nerve to say something to him. To thank him for being there for you, or answer any of the many questions or jokes he throws your way. 

You don’t even realize the tears are streaming down your face until they drip onto your hands in your lap. Once you feel the first one, the rest fall in quick succession and before you know it, you’re audibly sobbing in the empty theatre. It’s almost embarrassing, the way your cries echo because of the acoustics. 

Wally comes in quietly, and sits down next to you. You’ve been too preoccupied to notice anything other than your tears, heavy and streaking down your cheeks. He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. He’s warm, and when you grab the front of his sweatshirt, he holds you tighter.

It takes a while for you to calm down - you’d been holding everything in for too long - you were bound to bubble over and explode at some point. When you feel yourself come back to your body, Wally is still holding you. He’s stroking your head and whispering comforts to you. You don’t deserve him, you think.

He’s still rubbing your back when you pull away to look at him, but you’re distracted by the wet spot on his sweatshirt - the light grey darkened by your tears. 

“Oh,” you whisper, your voice cracking from how long it’s been since you’ve spoken, “I’m sorry.”

Wally’s eyes widen, not prepared for you to start talking, and he jumps to console you. “Woah, hey, don’t even worry about it. This ratty old thing? I’ve been wearing it for like, almost twenty years.” He giggles a bit, continuing, “I honestly think this is the closest this thing has been to a washing machine even longer than that, so. No sweat, promise.”

You nod, thanking him. 

“Are you, like…” he trails off, not sure how to ask you if you’re okay. It’s a silly question, he knows that. “I remember the first time I saw my parents after I died. There was a vigil on the football field like a week after it happened. Everyone was there, and they were all crying and it was so weird. I didn’t feel dead yet, like I hadn’t accepted that it really happened.”

“That must’ve been really hard for you, Wally. I’m really sorry.” Your eyes meet, and he shrugs.

He smiles, a sad, nostalgic thing. He can’t tell you it’s okay, because it’s not. Instead, he goes to hold your hand. “I promise it will get better. It just takes some time. It’s gonna suck for a while, but we’re all here for you. I’m here for you.” His thumb rubs circles on the top or your hand, and you smile up at him. 

“Thanks, Wally. I really appreciate it.” Your interconnected hands are grounding you. It’s the first time you’ve felt a semblance of peace since you died. “Do you mind if we sit here for a little bit? It’s quiet, I don’t want to leave yet.” He nods, and the two of you just sit there.

Just like Wally said it would, it gets easier.

You start going to more of the meetings with Mr. Martin, and you actually start participating. It was weird at first - you thought people would make a big deal out of your finding your voice again, but they just smiled, proud of your growth. Wally has been your biggest cheerleader, but they’re all really supportive. Even Rhonda, though she still sports her gloomy demeanor. 

When they fix up the stage and clear the crime scene tape, the school holds your vigil there. Wally is right there with you in the audience, holding your hand while your parents speak. Your theatre teacher speaks too, and talks highly of you. Your brightness, the passion you had for theatre. When she says you had a beautiful voice, that you could’ve been somebody, she directs it at your parents. They agree, it seems. 

There are still days where it's really hard. You retreat back into your shell, refusing to leave the auditorium or speak to anyone. Wally's patience with you is endless, and when you allow him to stay with you, he spends all day cracking jokes to help you feel better.

One day, instead of letting you isolate yourself, he drags you out onto the football field to get some sun. "We don't really need vitamin D anymore, but I really think it'll help. C'mon, the sun on your skin? Wind in your hair? Can't beat that, babe." He leads you out onto the field - one hand clasped in yours and the other holding a backpack.

The pet names are a new thing, but you don't mind it. He'd slipped one day, called you sweetheart, and immediately backtracked and apologized profusely. All you could do was laugh and call him cute.

"Where did you even get that?" you giggle, following him to a spot under a tree near the edge of the field. "Did you steal that from someone?"

He drops your hand to bring it to his own chest, offended at your assumption. "Me? Steal? I can't believe you'd think so lowly of me," he plops onto the grass, patting the spot next to him, "Yeah I totally stole it, emptied it out, and then filled it with a shit ton of snacks and drinks so we could have a picnic out here." He unzips the bag, pulling out at least ten different bags of chips and candy bars.

"This is really sweet, Wally," you can feel your face heat up, though hopefully it'll just look like it's because of the heat. "It's like a date, almost." His head shoots up to look at you, pink dusting his cheeks and ears.

"Y-yeah, if you want it to be. If you think you're ready for that kind of thing." He stutters, a nervous boyish thing. He's the sweetest person ever.

“I am, I think,” you nod while you’re talking, like you’ve made up your mind, “You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever met.” Wally ducks his head down, chin meeting his chest. He’s fully blushing now - it’s the cutest thing you’ve seen in a long time. 

“C’mere,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and maneuvering your body so your back is pressed up against his chest, head resting in the space between his head and shoulder, “is this okay?” 

You turn your head to try and look at him, and he angles his towards you. His face is inches from yours, and if you had a heartbeat, it’d be beating wildly right now. You can almost feel it, the pitter patter of it in your chest. Your hand comes up to cradle his cheek, rubbing your thumb over the space under his eye. You nod, and move in to kiss him. 

His lips are so soft, and the way they move in conjunction with yours provides much needed relief. You stay like that for a few minutes, and when you’re done, he rests his forehead against yours. Eyes closed, feeling the gentle breeze sweeping up the hill you’re sitting on. You never had anything like this when you were still alive, the easy conversation and back and forth banter. He’s your new safe space. You don’t have to worry about anything when you’re with him. 

“This is perfect.”

a/n: wally clark is actually so special to me and when i think about him for too long i get very emotional. my shayla. i wrote this in the span of like a day and a half so if there are any mistakes i'm sorry LMAO

if you liked this story, please like and reblog!! it'd mean the world to me, even if you just drop a silly comment. i want to write more for wally because he desperately needs more stories on here.

[gooondocks]

and if your heart wears thin — evan buckley.

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: after taking an unfortunate spill on the job, buck's fiancé decides that life is too short to wait any longer.

─── pairing: evan buckley x gn!reader.

─── warnings & notes: angsty angst and then fluffy fluff. near death experience, descriptions of drowning and rescuscitation, brief mention of needles (not graphic), incorrect medical procedure for Plot purposes. no use of y/n. title is from 'beside you' by marianas trench. this starts out with some mild peril but devolves into some of the fluffiest shit i've ever written so. enjoy. not proofread bc i'm lazy.

─── word count: 3.9k.

     YOU SHOULD'VE BEEN EXPECTING IT, is the thing.

     The callout comes about halfway through the shift. Intoxicated male on the boardwalk at Echo Park Lake, bleeding from a head wound, having tripped getting out of one those damn swan boats. Dispatch warns that he’s been hostile and combative to both employees and civilians on scene, and that a police unit has also been sent to assist.

     So really, you should have been expecting it. Aggressive patients aren't exactly rare in your line of work, unfortunately. Hell, this wasn’t even the first confrontational call you attended this week. So you're pretty used to being on your guard on these kinds of calls.

     Except.

     You turned your back for only a second, just to grab something from the medkit. Buck and Eddie are doing their best to coax the patient onto the gurney, gritting their teeth as he hurls slurred curses their way. Hen quietly asks you to grab the pulse oximeter out of the bag, and so you turn, crouching down at the edge of the dock to rummage through the kit.

     You’re not sure what causes it. Why the patient decided to lash out at that exact moment. But there’s a gruff roar behind you and the man flails, edging around Eddie to give you an almighty shove. Crouched like this, your center of gravity suddenly shifts. You lose your balance.

     And then you're in the water.

     Panic floods your body as you breach the surface. It's instinct to gasp for air, except there isn't any; you take in a lungful of the lake instead, sputtering and hacking beneath the water as you try to kick towards daylight.

     It’s deeper than you thought it would be, so close to the shore. You keep kicking and kicking, but your boots never scrape the bottom, nor do you find the surface. It’s cold, too. Colder than you thought possible, in a lake in the middle of Los Angeles. But it’s winter now, you suppose. A grim, chilly February. Most of it has been spent curled up beneath a blanket with Buck, the pair of you ensconced in your cosy apartment.

     The past week has been overcast and windy. And the water is never as warm as the air temperature. Buck laughs every time you run into the surf at the beach, squealing at the sudden, sharp chill of it lapping at your skin.

     How cold can a human body become before it’s dangerous?

     You try to remember, but cold water curls around your limbs like heavy iron shackles, dragging you down. You can’t remember. Buck would know. Buck wouldn’t even have to think about it, he’d just reel off the answer in a heartbeat, and you’d smile proudly and kiss his cheek and insist, once again, that you should do a quiz night at your wedding reception.

     Your lungs are burning. God, your whole body’s just screaming for air, but you can’t find it. There isn’t any. Just endless, depthless water and the occasional wink of sunlight, mocking you from high above, then gone again. Never around long enough for you to find it. Never long enough to save you.

     Instinctively, you suck in another breath. Another barrage of lakewater floods your lungs. Dark spots start speckling across your vision.

     On the dock, Buck is screaming.

     He’d had one hand on the patient’s shoulder, his grip firm but gentle as he helped Eddie guide the guy onto the stretcher. You’d ducked out of sight for a moment, but Buck had been focused on subduing the patient. He tried not to grimace as waves of hot, rancid beer breath crashed over him.

     Then, with a strength that surprised them, the man wrenched out of Buck’s grasp and staggered away from them. Buck doesn’t think he shoved you on purpose, but it didn’t matter; one moment you were suspended, wobbling dangerously close to the edge of the dock, and the next—

     The next, you were gone.

     The patient’s still yelling nonsensically, curses and insults blending together into one unintelligible mess, but all Buck can hear is white noise. He blinks, but you’re still missing. He sees the gurney, the patient, Chimney’s pale face, the ripples spreading over the surface of the lake.

     But no you.

     Terror bolts through him, and without hesitation he’s sprinting to the edge of the dock. No, no, no. Ragged breaths tear out of his lungs as he scans the surface of the water, frantically searching for any sign of you.

     You’re okay, you’re okay, he repeats under his breath, over and over. Any moment now, your head will bob into view, and you’ll shoot him a waterlogged scowl, and he’ll laugh at you doing your best impression of a drowned cat, and everything will be okay.

     But the seconds tick by, one excruciating breath after another. There’s no sign of you.

     Buck shouts your name. A heart-wrenching cry. No, no, no.

     The rest of the team leap into action. Some of them load the patient quickly into the ambulance while Bobby radios for another RA unit. Eddie scrambles to grab the life preserver as Buck tears off his jacket, kicks the heavy boots off his feet. Hen and Chimney prepare their equipment for the worst.

     Please. Please. Buck doesn’t believe in God, but he spares a moment to pray before diving into the lake after you.

     The current catches him off-guard, tugging harshly at his clothes. It rained a lot earlier this week, so the lakes and rivers around Los Angeles are more swollen than usual, but the strength of it sends a spark of fear zipping up his spine. Falling in here, disoriented and panicking…

     He can barely make out your figure through the water’s murky gloom. Kicking hard, he swims down to you, loops strong arms around your waist. Wrapped in Buck’s unrelenting grip, he drags you back to the surface.

     “Eddie!” Buck calls out as he breaks through. Eddie wastes no time in tossing the life preserver towards him, who grabs hold of it with one hand, his other arm coiled tightly around your limp body, trying to keep your head above water.

     Bile rises in his throat as your clammy skin presses against his. You’re so cold. Panic wraps a hand around his throat and squeezes, hard, with every inch he gets closer to shore.

     Eddie and Bobby are quick to pull you both back to the dock, using the life preserver as a tow line. Hauling you out of the water, Buck lowers you gently to the ground. Your head rolls limply sideways, your face unnaturally pale, lips tinged blue from lack of oxygen.

     “They’re not breathing,” Hen murmurs worriedly. She sets the pulse ox on your finger while Chimney tries a sternal rub. You don’t flinch. “Respiratory arrest. Starting CPR.”

     Buck hovers at the edge of things. His chest is tight like a vise, steadily squeezing all the air of his lungs and replacing it with cold, slippery dread. He watches Hen and Chimney work over you, counts the reps in his head alongside them.

     He can’t tear his focus from your hands. They’re so still. Like a doll.

     Or a corpse.

     Please. You can’t leave him. You can’t. He hasn’t had enough time. You’re supposed to be getting married. Walk down the aisle together, spend a lifetime together. You were talking about getting a dog just last night. Planned a trip to the shelter for your next Saturday off. You were going to ask Chris to come with.

     And between one breath and the next, all of that could just be… gone.

     “Buck.” Eddie clasps a hand on Buck’s shoulder, wrapping a blanket around him to stave off the chill. Oh. He’s shivering, hands quivering at his sides, soaked clothes clinging to his skin. The blanket is tiny compared to Buck’s broad frame, but it’s something, at least. “Buck, breathe.”

    On the ground, Hen keeps administering rescue breaths. Every few seconds, she'll pause to check your response, but you remain frighteningly still every time.

     Buck can’t breathe until you do. He can’t.

     He feels so hyper-aware of everything around, the onslaught hitting all at once. The crowd of nosy onlookers gathered at the end of the dock, held back by frazzled park employees and a few other members of the 118. The wind ghosting over his skin, chilled gusts that ruffle his damp curls and creep beneath the blanket seeking wet skin to freeze.

     But most all, you. Always you. He can’t look away.

     Eddie’s hand on his shoulder feels like a tether, not quite breaking him from his thoughts completely but keeping him from falling over the edge of the precipice.

     “Buck, breathe.”

     His whole body shudders as does, finally, sucking a ragged breath into screaming lungs. His vision blurs just slightly. He blinks to clear it.

     You’ll make it. He cannot allow himself to think the worst. He won’t give up on you, won’t acknowledge the dark thoughts creeping in from the corners of his mind. You’ll make it. You have to.

     "Come on, kid," Chimney whispers as Hen administers another round of rescue breaths. "Come on, kid, you've got this—"

     And then between one second and the next, your whole body jolts, and you're vomiting out lungfuls of water. Hen rolls you onto your side, rubbing a soothing palm along your back as you wretch onto the ground.

     "That's it, baby, get it all out," she murmurs. You're gasping and hacking and sputtering lakewater all over the place, still not quite conscious, lips still a little blue and face still startlingly pale, but at least you're breathing.

     A wave of relief crashes over Buck and it almost takes him out at the knees. His heart’s still racing dangerously in his chest, trying to break past his ribs to reach you, and his hands still shake, but you’re breathing again.

     You’re breathing.

     He sways a little as his legs go weak. Buck feels lightheaded just witnessing you expel all that water, and sudden nausea grips his stomach in a vice. But he fights through it, unwilling to take his eyes off you for even a moment, even as his vision begins to blur again.

     Tears gather along his lash line, threatening to fall. He remains silent, not trusting that he won’t dissolve into tears the moment he opens his mouth.

     You’re still gagging, heaving onto the deck, but at least there’s no more water.

     He’s itching to reach out, touch you, feel your pulse flutter beneath his fingers to prove he’s not hallucinating. His hand twitches just slightly, like he almost does, but he feels rooted to the ground.

     Body wracked with violent tremors, you start to relax back onto the ground, limbs limp and leaden, throat and lungs burning like wildfire from the water you expelled. Your breath hitches every few seconds, still shallow and slow, so Hen fixes an oxygen mask to your face as Chimney mutters something about getting you to a hospital just as the second ambulance arrives on scene.

     You don't hear any of that. Blinking once, twice, the light is bright enough to make you squint as your mind swims hazily between waking and unconsciousness. Your head is pounding. You feel like you got hit by a goddamn truck. A pained moan whines out of you as you squeeze your eyes closed again to block out the weak, grey daylight.

     Buck bites his lip bloody as he watches you drift, your eyelids fluttering and your slow, stuttering breaths. His eyes are fixed on the oxygen mask. With every exhale, it turns foggy with condensation, and another knot of worry in his chest starts to loosen, but it’s not enough to put him at ease. Not yet.

     He’ll calm down only once you’ve been checked over at the hospital. Preferably with a second (or third) opinion, just in case.

     “Buck.” Eddie’s grip on his shoulder tightens momentarily as he nudges Buck gently forward. “They need you.”

     On the ground, you're only semi-conscious, still not fully aware of your surroundings. But you feel like you're looking for someone. Like there's someone missing, and you reach out blindly with one cold, trembling hand.

     Buck’s own fingers flex in response, but his legs still feel too heavy. He looks to Eddie, who nods at him, before Buck allows himself to be pushed towards you.

     Eddie’s right. You need him.

     Stumbling forward, he drops down to his knees, a dull thud echoing up from the wood that nearly makes him wince. He edges closer, eyes flicking all over your face, taking in your gaunt, washed out features, that cyan tint to your lips, the way you’re reaching out to him.

     Slowly, so slowly, he hesitantly takes your hand in his, curling careful fingers around yours. He squeezes tightly, and then it’s like he’s afraid someone will steal you away from him, because his grip turns almost tight enough to bruise.

     “I’m here, baby.”

     The hand encircling yours is warm and huge and comfortingly familiar, and when his voice drifts over you, something in your mind flickers with recognition. Your eyes flutter as you search for him, ignoring the way the light feels like skewers in your brain. "Buck?" Muffled by the oxygen mask, your voice is barely more than a whisper, throat rubbed raw from expelling the water.

     "Let's get her on a gurney." Hen is all business, but there's a soft, relieved smile on her face. "We'll start an IV of warm fluids in the ambulance to bring your body temp up. You weren’t down for too long, but I want to get you checked by a doctor soon in case there's any neurological issues."

     She’s addressing you, but it’s Buck who’s listening, taking in what she’s saying. He squeezes your hand again, trying to be a tether to consciousness as you weakly nod. He watches as your eyes search for him again.

     “You’re okay, you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay,” he murmurs softly, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.

     It’s more to reassure himself than anything.

     They're quick to transfer you to a gurney, and soon you're being wheeled towards the ambulance. Buck's hand in yours is a comforting anchor to reality, even as your whole body aches with pain.

     "Cold," you mutter once the doors have closed. Chimney's driving. Buck's in the back with you and Hen. You wouldn't have let go of his hand if they'd even tried to separate you, but they didn’t.

     Buck watches over you like he’s scared you’ll stop breathing if looks away. The lines of his fave are still creased with worry, but his thumb is soft, tracing soothing, mindless circles over your skin.

     When you speak his head snaps up slightly, eyes immediately locking with yours as you call out for him, murmuring in a raspy voice that you’re cold.

     “I know, it’s okay. Here, let me.” Hen wordlessly passes him a heated blanket and he’s gentle as he strips you of your wet shirt. Expertly avoiding the leads and tubes attached to your body, he tucks it around you, still holding your hand all the while.

     "Mm." You make a small, pleased noise as the blanket's warmth envelops you. It barely registers when Hen reaches across to take your other hand, wincing a little as she inserts a cannula to start you on an IV of warm fluids.

     "ER is ten minutes out," she murmurs quietly, and settles back to monitor your vital signs, offering you and Buck a little privacy.

     You're still shivering beneath the blanket, even as the warmth of it starts seeping into your bones, but that's more of an aftereffect of drowning than actual cold. You squeeze your fiancé's hand as hard as you can. "Buck?"

     “Right here, baby,” he murmurs softly, squeezing right back. His free hand moves to your head, fingers gently running through your damp, tangled hair.

     "Wanna marry you."

     The words that spill out of you are little more than a mumble, your eyes still closed, face still hidden beneath the oxygen mask. Soaked strands of hair drip murky lake water onto the floor.

     Buck is already your fiancé. You're already engaged. But there's an urgency settling in your gut, twisting up your insides in the worst way.

     You want— no, need to marry him.

     As soon as possible.

     It takes a few seconds to understand what you said, but when the words finally register, it feels like they’ve grown talons that tear right into his chest. The urgency in your tone makes his eyes still, and his heart starts to race all over again, threatening to beat right out of his chest so it can live next to yours.

     Eyes softening, he moves his hand from your hair to rest his index finger under your chin, gently tracing his thumb over your lip.

     “Marry me, huh?” he mumbles softly. You’d never be able to tell that on the inside, his brain is screaming gleefully that he’d marry you right now if Hen were ordained.

     He taps your nose over the oxygen mask, and if you were a little more awake (and not encumbered by the oxygen mask), you’d nip at his finger, a playful smile toying at your lips.

     Instead, you make the cutest grumbling sound he’s ever heard. "Mm. Now.” Your engagement ring is tucked safely in your locker back at the station, replaced on shift by a black silicone band that won't get damaged on a call.

     You squeeze his hand again, tugging insistently on it. Blinking against the harsh light of the ambulance, your gaze finds his, eyes still foggy and unfocused. “Marry me.”

     If another day passes before you’re married to this man, you may actually lose your mind.

     Butterflies swirl around Buck’s stomach, a far cry from nausea that rolled through him not that long ago. The small smile on your lips and the way you’re tugging on his hand make him feel all warm and gooey.

     He laughs softly at you, tapping his finger against your nose again. “Right now? We’re gonna get married right now? With you in the hospital?” He’s got no hope of masking the amusement in his tone. He wants to marry you yesterday. His eyes sparkle as he looks down at you with a quirked brow.

     You nod a little, trying not to wince as that sets off the pounding in your head. God, you pity those who get regular migraines. This is torture, and you only suffered a little oxygen deprivation!

     But Buck is smiling.

     He’s smiling and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You thought you'd never see it again. You want to see that smile every moment for the rest of your life

     "Mm-hm," you mumble, leaning into his touch. "Eddie can be flower girl. Wedding night in a hospital room. Scandalise the nurses."

     You're not sure how much of that was coherent, but you hear Hen snort, so you figure it was mostly audible.

     Buck’s grin broadens at your suggestion, but he bites his tongue to stifle the laugh bubbling in his chest. “Scandalise the nurses, huh.” He glances at Hen out of the corner of his eye, catching her trying to smother a similar smile.

     You huff at him, as if he’s being particularly difficult. As if you didn’t almost die twenty minutes ago. As if there aren’t more important things to focus on than the elopement you’ve suddenly decided you need.

     Besides. They’re nurses. You’re pretty sure they’ve seen worse.

     “Sucked your dick in the broom closet at work,” you mutter, your eyes falling closed again as warmth and safety wrap you up like a swaddled baby. “We’re pretty scandalous, baby.”

     Hen is barely able to muffle her squawk in time, hand clapped over her mouth, and you can't help but smile at the bright sound of it. You're sleepy, and you've got no filter, but at least everyone else gets to enjoy it.

     Buck, meanwhile, almost chokes on his own saliva. Eyes wide, jaw slack, a rosy flush creeps up his neck. It’s Hen’s reaction that makes him laugh, though, and he finally lets it out, quiet but affectionate as it tumbles from his lips.

     He shakes his head a little as he looks back down at you. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” His thumb keeps tracing lightly over the back of your hand, and the expression on his face is impossibly soft, his heart still racing in his chest.

     "Eddie in a pretty pink flower girl dress," you mumble, nonsensical images flitting through your mind of your friend drowning in tulle. You sigh. "You'd still be prettier. Just wanna marry you."

     The way he’s looking at you makes you feel warmer than any blanket. You feel like you’re floating on a cloud instead of stretched out on a gurney in the back of an ambulance.

     You want nothing more than to curl up in his arms right now, at home in your bed. This situation is certainly not ideal.

     "Bet we could get Eddie to wear a dress." More sleepy grumbles. You try to roll over, shuffle closer to your fiancé, but annoyingly, your body feels far too heavy to cooperate. "Play the I nearly drowned card. That would work. Bobby can officiate. Hen gets the cake. Can't wait another day."

     Buck snorts at the idea of Eddie in a dress, but his heart feels so full it’s like his body can barely contain it. The urge to wrap you up in his arms, to hold you close and never let go, hits him like a baseball bat to the head.

     “We gotta wait until you’re able to talk without being a smartass,” he says teasingly, tapping your nose again.

     You whine, frowning like a grumpy, tired child. “Then we’ll never get married.”

     Truly, if you have to wait for until the day you stop being a smartass, the world might end first.

     You look over at Hen through sleepy, puppy dog eyes. "Back me up here, Hen." You're so drowsy, exhaustion pulling you into its delicious embrace, but you’re pretty sure you'll remember all of this when you wake up.

     Hen certainly will, at least.

     A slow, sly smile creeps onto her face. Buck feels distinctly like he’s being ganged up on. For once, he really doesn’t mind.

     "Well, we as a firehouse are well-known for our impromptu party planning..." Hen recalls her vow renewal, and Chimney's wedding to Maddie, and every back-to-work celebration she ever organised. They are pretty damn good at this. "As long as the doctors clear you, I don't see why we can't plan a shotgun wedding in your hospital room."

     A triumphant, extremely sleepy grin spreads across your face, and you look back at Buck. "So marry me, hotshot."

     He huffs a melodramatic sigh, as if this is the world’s biggest inconvenience for him, but he cannot hide the way his ears turn pink, the way his whole body lights up like a sparkler on the Fourth of July.

     “A shotgun hospital wedding it is,” he says, bright with glee as he lifts your hand to his mouth, brushing a sweet kiss to your knuckles.

     With that settled, contentment curls up beneath your ribs like a cat in a patch of sunlight, and you doze off into a dreamless sleep, feeling like the luckiest person alive.

[verstappen-cult]

# PINING IN ANTICIPATION | MV1

Neither you nor Max know how it started but it made you feel better and that was enough for him.

Pairings: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader. Content Warnings: +18, cursing, smut, unprotected sex, cockwarming, a lot of feelings, hurt/comfort.

Gwen’s radio message. . . 💬 : okay, so, this was gonna be a porn without plot kinda drabble but this thing came out instead. please don’t expect anything fancy because i really suck at writing smut.

Max opens the door before you could even start to question yourself.

He’s surprised to see you knocking on his door at two in the morning. You start to regret coming to him when you see him rub the sleep from his eyes. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” You look down, choking on a sob. “Hey, hey, what happened?”

Max is by your side in a second, wrapping an arm around your waist to guide you inside his apartment. He doesn’t let you go until you’re sitting comfortable on the couch, tucking your legs beneath you. 

“Did something happen?” 

“Had an awful fight with mom,” You fidget with your fingers, the corners of your eyes already filled with tears. “she said really mean things.”

Max reaches out and grabs your hand, thumb caressing the inside of your wrist. It’s not the first time something like this has happened, he’s very familiar with the relationship you have with your mother because it is pretty much the same relationship he has with his father. Actually, when you first met, you bonded over the awful parents and experiences you had as kids. 

“Couldn’t stay home alone.” You say, shyly. “I’m sorry for coming at this hour.”

“Don’t worry about that.” 

The silence stretches between you two. Max looks carefully as you get lost inside your head, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. He can almost hear your thoughts. He knows what you need, the only thing that makes you feel better and gets you out of your head. 

Max doesn’t know exactly how it happened. One moment you’re in the brink of an anxiety attack and then, in the blink of an eye, you’re sitting on his cock, face buried into the side of his neck as he rubbed your back up and down.

It wasn’t sex because you didn't kiss, there wasn’t some awfully awkward dirty talk and neither of you came at the end — well, not that you know. If Max had to lock himself in the bathroom after you fell asleep because he was still so painfully hard, it’s definitely not something you need to know; he still feels disgusting and will take that secret to the grave. 

You didn’t talk to each other for at least two weeks after that. Max wanted to reach out but you were ignoring him, and he wanted to give you space to sort your head out. And when one day you sat down next to him and started to apologize and ramble about not wanting to lose him because he’s just so important in your life, Max was finally able to relax because you were fine. Everything was fine. 

You had a long conversation. And it was that day when Max learnt that what you did was called cockwarning and it was actually something people do to feel better. For you, it was about feeling physically as well as emotionally close with the other person, so, that is why it was so easy for you to do it with Max, you felt safe and you trust him. You also explain to him how, when things are just too much, feeling that deep pressure inside of you as well as the warmth emanating from a body under yours is, somehow, enough to stop your mind from reeling with questions, and feelings, and emotions. 

Max actually googled it. He opened an incognito tab and typed the words. He doesn’t know how much time he spent reading about experiences and actual studies about something that he had never heard of before. But it was like you said—many people do it because they feel safe that way, others because they don't want to think and it’s the only way they can relax and go into something called sub-space — Max didn’t do research on that because it was too much information and he just couldn’t handle it — while others do it just because they like it, no real meaning behind. 

You promised it wouldn’t happen again.

And, well, you should’ve known better. 

After the second time, you came to an agreement. Max would help you because he’s that good of a friend and cares about you. And because he didn’t want you to be looking for somebody else who could help you if you already felt safe with him. 

He never found it weird, and you appreciate that. 

So, now everytime you feel overwhelmed and can’t get out of your head on your own, Max is there to help you. Even if all you want is to just sit on somebody’s cock and pass the time, relax. He doesn’t care. 

It’s good that after the second time he was able to gain some control and not embarrass himself and you in the process. Max still feels like, one way or another, he’s taking advantage of you and you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve had to assure him that it is not like that and if you ever feel uncomfortable you will tell him. 

“Y/N?” He rubs the palm of your hand but you don’t look at him. You don’t react, not when he lets go of your hand and kneels in front of you and not even when he cups your cheek with his hands. “Hey, Y/N, I need you to get out of that pretty head of yours. Could you do that for me?” Max sighs in relief when he finally sees your gaze focusing on his face after what feels like hours. “There we go, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The corners of your mouth go up to form a sad smile. 

“You need my help?” Max asks, thumbs caressing your cheekbones. You nod, but that isn't enough. “You know we don’t work like that. I need words.”

It’s not the first time that the way he speaks to you sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve just become pretty good at ignoring it. 

“Yes,” You breathe out, closing your eyes to center yourself and stop the whine threatening to leave your lips. “I need you.” 

“Good,” He almost says Good girl, but holds his tongue. “You want to go to the bedroom?”

You shake your head. You don’t feel strong enough to walk there. “No, it’s okay. We can do it here.” You say in a small voice. “I’m really sorry for coming. “I’m fine, okay? I just need to relax an—”

“Hey, don’t, okay? I told you to come to me when you needed me. Night or day.” He reassures you, but you still feel like crying. “You think you can wait for me? I need to go get something.”

“No! Wha—why?”

Max tries not to laugh but you’re pouting and he finds it cute. “I need to get the lube,” Your pupils are wide and a faint bush covers your cheeks, because he doesn’t finger you to help make things easier, even though he has said he’s okay with it, you’re not. “I’ll be back in a second.” He leans to leave a kiss on your forehead before dissapearing.

You hide your face in your hands, breathing in and breathing out just like your therapist taught you. Only when you feel like you won’t pass out, you decide to speed things up by removing your jeans. 

You don’t like feeling like this. It’s almost comical that after all this time, knowing how your mother is and how always will be, she still has so much power over you. A few mean words and you are ten years old again. You can’t hate her, she’s your mother after all, but you’ve tried, only God knows how much you’ve tried to hate her and not come back running back to her when she tells you some nice things. It’s a vicious cycle that not even with therapy you’ve been able to stop.

When Max comes back he finds you sitting on the couch only in your underwear. You avoid making eye contact, feeling a little embarrassed for not wearing your cute lingerie. You chastise yourself for going there because this is not about sex, and it’s definitely not the first time that Max has seen you like this. 

When you look up, he’s already watching you. “You okay?” You nod, not trusting your voice. 

You break eye contact when Max moves his hands toward the waistband of his sweatpants. 

“You need help?” 

You see Max smiling from the corner of your eyes. “No, I already took care of that.”

Max is quick to shove his sweatpants down his thighs and join you on the couch. He pats his thighs and opens his arms for you, and you’re immediately moving to straddle his lap. You steady yourself grabbing Max’s shoulders, hovering over his lap and looking up to the ceiling as he busies himself opening the lube and dripping some over his cock. 

Your heart skips several beats as you look down to find him stroking himself to spread the lube. You’ve seen him do the same thing at least four times but you still feel like passing out every time you see his big and skilled hand move. Not for the first time you let yourself wonder how would his fingers feel inside of you. 

Max grabs your waist with one hand and uses the other to run the tip of his cock through your folds. You close your eyes and stop breathing as he, finally and slowly, sinks into you. You bite your lips trying to get used to the stretch, Max rubs circles on your lower back as he lets you adjust. You’ve done this quite a few times but you’re still not used to it. 

“You can—” You sigh, opening your eyes but Max is not looking at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He focuses his attention back on you, and smiles. You try to smile but your expression changes when you move all the way down, a whimper leaving your lips at finally having his cock buried deep inside of you. 

Max groans, grabbing your waist with more force than normal before letting go and, instead, grabbing the cushions by his sides. 

You lose the grip and wrap your arms around his neck, immediately resting your head on his shoulder and relaxing against his body. “Thank you.”

Max makes a weird noise, but you feel him nod. He lifts his hands and places them on your waist, fingers already caressing your back, sides and neck. 

Max turns his head just enough to be able to leave a kiss on your cheek before going back to his initial position. He reaches for the remote and turns on the TV, choosing to put on some comedy film as a background. 

The only thing you can feel and think about is his cock inside of you, making you feel so full, and the warmth emanating from his body, grounding you and, at the same time, making you feel like you’re floating around. There are no bad thoughts, you’re not thinking about the fight you had with your mom anymore. 

You’re not actually too lost inside your head, the walk to Max apartment helped you clear your mind a bit. You’re still a little shocked by the words and things your mother did, definitely, but once you reached Max building, you were feeling a lot better. If you ended up coming up anyway, well, Max offered to let you sit on his cock overwhelmed or not and you wouldn’t let that offer pass. You don’t know how much time you have together because one of these days Max can find a girlfriend and you will have to go out and look for somebody as understanding as your friend. 

The mere thought of Max with another girl makes you want to throw up. So, you shut your thoughts off. 

You don’t know how much time passes, but your legs start to feel numb and your back hurts, so you shift your weight which makes Max whine, cock twitching inside of you. 

“Sorry.” You whisper, stopping your movements. 

“No, it’s—just,” Max closes his eyes tightly, and you can see a drop of sweat slipping down his forehead. “You just—” He groans, unable to say what he so badly wants. 

You move from your place on his shoulder, eyebrows raised in confusion. “What?”

“Nothing,” Max’s voice is hoarse and the smiles he gives you don't reach his eyes. “Just—lie back down, come on.” He pats your back but you don’t move. 

“Max, tell me.” He shakes his head, dropping his head on your shoulder. “Max, it’s me.”

He sighs, straightening up. His sudden movement makes you both moan. 

“It’s just that,” He takes a deep breath and looks you straight in the eye. “You feel really good.”

His confession makes you want to close your legs which, for obvious reasons, you can’t. You feel your face burning but try to play it cool, like his words didn't have an effect on you. 

“Well, I mean, your cock is inside of me,” 

Max's laugh is strained. “Yeah… I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable because of this. If you want we can stop and I—”

“Max,” You cup his jaw, feeling the stubble under your palm. “I’m good.”

Max closes his eyes again, this time letting his head fall backwards against the couch. “You know the first time we did this,” He swallows, and you’re mesmerized by the way his Adam's apple bobs. How would it feel to kiss it? “I, God I can’t believe I’m going to say this out loud.”

“Max, come on. Just say it.” You let your fingers fall from his jaw all the way to his neck, just above his Adam’s apple. You can feel under your fingertips how it moves when he swallows again. 

“You will think I’m a perv,” He opens one eye, when you smile reassuringly he opens both. “Please don’t think I’m some kind of pervert but… I had to lock myself in the bathroom to,” He shrugs, doing the movement with his fist. 

“What?” You tilt your head. 

“To jerk off!” He says, frustrated. One of his hands leaves your waist to put it over his eyes.

You blink at Max. 

He looks back at you between his fingers.

His confession makes you feel that something you’ve been trying to ignore ever since that first night. 

“That is totally normal.” You don’t want him to feel bad, so reassuring him that it’s okay is actually the only thing you can do. “As I said, you’re buried inside of me, if you didn’t feel anything then that’s a problem.”

Max sounds a little more relaxed when he laughs again. 

But then there’s silence and eye contact. The only sound in the room coming from the TV and your heavy breathing. 

You feel that shiver running down your spine again, desire pooling in the pit of your stomach. 

“I’m sorry, I’m making this all awkward.”

“No, no. It’s good.”

Max raises his eyebrows in question. 

You decide not to answer with words. Instead, you shift your hips, Max cock impossible deep inside of you. 

“Oh fuck,” Max groans, closing his eyes tightly. His hands grab the cushion by his sides again but you want those hands on your waist, your breasts, all over your body. 

“Max,” You whine, grabbing at his shoulder and feeling how tense he is. 

“It’s okay,” He breathes in and out, just like you were doing not so long ago. “it’s okay. I’m sorry.”

You frown, “Max.” You try calling his name again, when he opens his eyes you can see how much his eyes have darkened.  

Max sucks in a sharp breath when you steady yourself by grabbing his shoulders to lift yourself up, pulling almost all the way out and letting yourself fall back down. Max’s moan is obscene. 

“I’m sorry, sorry, oh God, I’m sorry,” You babble, hiding behind your hands. What the fuck are you doing? “I didn’t mean to.”

“Hey,” He calls your attention, taking your hands and pulling them away from your face. Max cups your jaw guiding your face to look at him. “You want this? I need you to tell me because,” Max gaze falls to your mouth and he brushes your bottom lip with the pad of his finger. “I want to fuck you so bad.”

You nod, but then remember that he likes to hear you. “Yes,” That’s all Max need because he’s wrapping his arms around your waist, almost hugging you, and lifting you to pull out and then fuck back in. It nearly leaves you breathless. 

You gasp, grabbing onto him for dear life. It’s inevitable for you to look down and watch how his cock pulls out and then back inside, stretching you so good. 

“Look at me,” Max says, grinding his cock deep inside of you. And you have no choice but to look back up at him. The expression of pure pleasure on his face makes you clench around him, which takes another obscene moan out of him. 

He feels so good. 

You want to tell him how good he feels. How good he’s fucking you but you’re only capable of incoherent sounds, moans and whimpers. 

“Max,” You choke on a moan. One hand leaves your waist and slips under your shirt to pinch at one of your nipples. You actually have to put a hand over your mouth to avoid screaming. 

“I want to hear you. Please, let me hear you.” Max practically begs and how could you deny him that? The next time he does it, you let him hear you. And probably the whole building too. “Good girl.” Your cunt squeezes him tightly as he rolls his hips into yours. “You like that, don’t you? You like being my good girl?”

“Yes, yes,” If you had the strength you would be bouncing on his cock, but you can barely hold onto him as he fucks you nice and hard. “Max, Max.” His name falls like a mantra from your lips. The squelching sound of him pounding into you, mixed with the moans and groans fills the air around you. 

“You feel so good— fuck, so fucking tight.” Max groans into your ear. His thrusts are deep and rough, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head and nails dig into his skin, knowing you’ll leave marks that will last days. 

Max leans closer and licks a stripe of sweat from your neck and, somehow, is enough to make you hit your peak. You walls clench around him, like you’re actually trying to suck the life out of him.

“Max, Max I’m so close,” At this point you don’t even know if you’re whispering or screaming, but Max hears you either way.

Max expertly finds your clit and, right on cue, your orgasm comes crashing upon you, warmth washing all over your body as Max keeps on fucking you, searching for his own release. 

“That’s my girl,” Max breathes out, movements faltering. “I’m gonna come, fuck, gonna come inside of you.” Max feels his orgasm like he’s experiencing it for the very first time, like he was waiting for this moment his whole life. And he probably was, really. 

Max squeezes his eyes shut, hips stuttering and your name falling from his lips as he spills inside of you. Your whole body gives up. You’re glad Max is there to hold you close to his body. He pants in your neck, both of you trying to catch your breath and thinking about what the hell has just happened? 

“Did so good for me, sweetheart.” He whispers, leaving a kiss behind your ear. He doesn’t move more than to settle against the cushions with you on top of him and his cock still buried inside of you. And you feel so dizzy and stuffed full of his cum that the only rational thing you think about doing is to lift your head and kiss him. 

Max whines into the kiss. He doesn’t care that the kiss is messy because you can’t coordinate and are so tired you feel your body going limp, but he lets you kiss him until you need to catch your breath. 

He smiles softly at you. “That was good, uh? I bet you don’t even remember why you came here in the first place.”

“Oh, shut up!” Max likes making you blush, so he won’t ever shut up. 

“You know,” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, fingers lingering on your neck. “You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I always wanted to—“ He sighs, and you lean into his touch. Max feels like his heart is about to explode. “I didn’t think I could ever have a chance with you.” 

“What are you talking about?” You squeak because surely he doesn’t mean what he’s saying. Because that would mean— 

“I’m saying that you are,” He kisses your cheek. “the most,” Now, he places a kiss on your chin. “beautiful, and smart, and sexy,” Max leaves kisses all over your face. “girl I’ve ever seen in my life.” Finally, his lips find yours, but it’s quick and not enough. You want to keep kissing him for the rest of your life. 

“Max,” You whisper, tears in the corners of your eyes. “You—I,” You groan, letting your head fall against his forehead. “You know I’ve been crazy for you my whole life, right?” 

“No, that I did not know.” He’s teasing you, you hear it in his voice. “Well, maybe I had my suspicions.” 

“Max! You never say anything?” A thought crosses your mind and you feel mortified. “I feel like I took advantage of you now.” 

“What did you say to me? You would’ve told me if you weren’t comfortable. And I would’ve done the same thing.” You pout and Max can’t help but think, again, that you’re the most beautiful girl in the entire world. “When all of this cockwarming thing happened, I thought it was the only way I could be close to you. And I was helping you in the process, so I was more than happy with being just that.” 

“I didn’t keep coming back to you because of my feelings,” You start saying, playing with the collar of his shirt. “but because I’ve always felt safe with you. I knew—I know I can trust you. I mean, that became clear when you offered to let me sit on your cock the first time.” 

“I did not do that!” 

“You totally did!” You laugh with your whole body because you’re that happy. But that makes you shift your hips which makes you wince at feeling Max softening cock still inside of you. 

“You good? It wasn’t… too much?” He sounds insecure, you see it on his face too. It’s cute.

“It was pretty good, Max. If not I wouldn’t have let you fuck me.” Max rolls his eyes, chuckling, and you rest your head on his shoulder one more time.

“You want me to pull out?”

“No, just—hold me, okay?” Max makes a pleasing sound, lips finding your temple. 

“Always.”

[countdykulaa]

﹟ ⠀ ⠀ 𝟎𝟎𝟏 ⠀ . ⠀ ⠀ LUXURIOUS⠀ ⠀ ﹕ ⠀ ⠀ ❪ ⠀ spoilt! reader x sevika ⠀ ❫

you're spoiled rotten . you know it . your brother knows it, and sevika's poor wallet sure knows the fact . your mother gave you everything she could though you weren't by any means rich . you went to the best schools a lower middle class family could afford thanks to a scholarship, a fancy pair of shoes bought every couple years in contrast to your peers and even went overseas on your own a few times . this rather ordinary upbringing did little to deter the pit of greed rotting your teeth away with each request .

where your mom fell short your looks picked up . all you had to do was walk down the street on a friday night and all your drinks would be paid for . you don't know what it was about you or where the sudden shift came from , but everyone around you looked at you less like the invisible one , doomed to join the shadows and more like the one with stars dancing on their skin . it took a while getting used to it , but after a while peoples generosity turned less into a gift and more into a quiet expectation . all this to say sevika swears she found you like this .

she swears the entitlement in your eyes was shining big and bright under those fluorescent lights the minute she locked eyes with you at a club with your friends . you were probably half her age , still raw with a rebellious look . she knew the moment her eyes trailed down to the scandalous two piece you had on that you wouldn't give her the time of day if she didn't buy your whole table drinks . sevika knows your type and by the way you tilt your head and gaze at her , unabashed and curious , you know hers too .

what initially started as a drunken one night stand turned into something more but it was by no means an accident . sevika took the initiative , asking you on the date while the taste of your pussy was still lingering on her tongue . she needed to make sure you knew she was serious about wanting to be with you. take care of you the way she knew you expected. you responded with a nod of the head and smile of approval , dragging her in for what turned out to be a long two days.

dating you was nothing short of exhausting in the best way possible. you were nothing like most of the other brats she dated you were something else . you never asked for what you knew she wouldn't give you and that was what made you dangerous . you let her take the lead despite the snark comments that often leave your mouth . she'd guide you down the street with her hand on the small of your back , let you order for the both of thwm and chased off anyone so much as looking in your direction for too long.

she buys you the best gifts money can buy and stocks up on groceries because she knows how much you love to cook for her. flowers were always a constant presence even in her absence but now they're bigger … brighter , replaced every week instead of every other week . she doesn't just take you to get your nails done and braids platted every month, but also makes sure she waits the whole five hours , phone in hand as she watches the game . her reward is the food from her favourite place , paid by her of course. she took care of you in all the ways that mattered.

half the times you toyed with her lips or ran your fingers over her clit was more you playing around than it was making her cum . you swirled your fingers around her bush , felt the wetness running down her thighs . even suck your middle finger on her clit at times . sometimes making her cum was another way to entertain yourself . you especially liked the way sevika would react when your long nails accidentally swiped on her lips . the quick thrust she'd give , etching towards the slight pain . those nights always ended with her blazed out , eyes wide and dazed as you rode her to no end . at times you'd see how many times you could beg her to fuck you while her harness hit her clit in a way that would send her hurtling into another orgasm back to back with minimal stop . she rarely complained , even when it hurt , even when she , the acclaimed brat tamer was on the verge of tears herself .

your definition of topping included shoving her down the couch , lifting your mini skirt up as you straddled her shoulders and riding her face until you got impatient and whiney and made her take over . you'd never outright say it , but she'd know whenever those long stilettos sunk into her hair and grip with a harshness that would elicit a hiss from her occupied lips . she'd sink her blunt nails into your thighs and dragging you up and down her face herself . she knows you , knows you won't give her cock or hardening clit the light of day until you've had your fill . you're spoilt and lazy and greedy and … sevika's pants feel tighter than ever as she gives some aborted thrusts into the air .

she swears she could come from this . from pleasing you . from watching the money leave her bank account the moment a satisfied smile graced your features . and cum she does , right in her pants . you pay it no mind nor the high pitched whines she shudders against your clit .

PLUTO SPEAKS : updated my taglist form so make sure to check it out

TAGLIST : @saycubed

[moonlightmornings]

hannah's buddie fic recs || pt. 1 💫

kinda wanted to get this done before season 8b hit, which will undoubtedly set up a part 2...

if you're the author of one of these, please reply and i'll tag your tumblr! and ALWAYS check the tags and warnings before reading!! stay safe :)

and you are the big answer tonight by folkfae | 13.5k words | explicit The LAFD changes its drug policy, Eddie's never smoked weed, and buck teaches him a thing or two... aka the weed fic.

cowboy take me away by pixelsmom1990 | 6.2k words | teen+ Buck is occasionally reminded of Eddie’s roots in Texas and behaves appropriately.

merry and bright by heartsdalliances | 20k words | teen+ During the annual toy drive, Buck and Eddie get themselves into a little bit of trouble when Buck's mother turns out to be flirting with Eddie - right in front of his father. What comes next is dinner, bad parents, romance, and the true meaning of family.

counteroffer by buckleyseddie - @buckleyseddie | 25k words | teen+ In order for Buck to make it up to Eddie, Eddie suggests that Buck gives him one hundred kisses.

the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love by lemonzestywrites - @lemonzestywrites | 25.6k | explicit After the events of 6x13, Buck is worried he's lost his charm in bed. Eddie eagerly offers his services to prove otherwise.

every piece of me holds part of you by allthatsleft | 8.7k words | explicit “There’s cookie dough on your face.” Buck whispers, and— “Huh?” — “Cookie dough. On your face. Cheekbone.” Buck repeats, not pulling back. Eddie rolls his eyes. “Are you serious?”... Eddie's tired of waiting.

stick with me by buddieaya | 10.9k words | explicit A dare, fake dating, a freak out and lots and lots of stickers.

you can feel it on the way home (you are in love) by made_ofmemories - @made-ofmemories | 23.4k words | teen+ Buck's apartment is destroyed when an earthquake shakes LA, luckily there's always a space for him in the Diaz household.

no sight for heart eyes by znks - @znks | 20.5k words | explicit Losing your sight for a week sucks but at least Eddie has Buck to guide him through his healing or at least through his own house.

for a holiday (and forevermore) by wikiangela - @wikiangela / @wikiangela-fanfics | 94.9k words | mature Eddie's sick of personal, intrusive questions about his love life whenever he visits his family, so he starts bringing Buck for the holidays as his (fake) boyfriend. He only wants to shut them up, and doesn't expect that the small crush he has on his best friend could actually turn into something more...

short, shallow gasps by flxisms - @gayboyeddie | 6.7k words | explicit Eddie would like to state, for the record, that he has never cried during sex before. It’s just — Buck does something to him.

go play your video games by fandomlife54 | 5.9k words | general 3 times Buck noticed video games help Eddie fall asleep at night + 1 time he uses them to make his day better.

all i want for christmas is you by jiminthestreets_boneinthesheets | 7.9k words | general Eddie’s mom and ex-wife are up to no good at his Abuela’s Christmas Eve party, good thing Buck proposed he go to the party as Eddie fake date to keep them at bay.

have my hoodie (have all of me) by becausebuckley - @becausebuckley | 3k words | teen+ Buck visits the Diaz house one morning, he's confronted by the sight of his best friend wearing his clothes.

drop to hold you by ellewriteswrongs - @ellewriteswrongs | 3.8k words | teen+ For once, there was no use pretending he could handle everything on his own. Luckily for Eddie, his boys are always ready to drop everything to help.

soft arms, steady heart by babytown | 8.4k words | explicit Movie night takes a turn, Eddie gets needy, and Buck is more than happy to take care of him.

PART TWO -> hannah's buddie fic recs

[witchingwithscissors]

Agathario AU | Agatha just needed a baseball coach for her kid. She didn’t plan on catching feelings.

Agatha studied the young woman who strolled onto her manicured lawn, looking more rebel than structured coach. Her hair was tied back in a no-nonsense ponytail and she exuded an easy confidence that clashed with Agatha’s buttoned-up demeanor.

“Coach Vidal?” Agatha asked, crossing her arms.

“That’s me,” Rio replied, shifting a duffel bag on her shoulder. “You must be Nicky’s mom.”

“Agatha,” she corrected, extending a handshake.

Nicky poked his head out from behind Agatha’s legs. “Are you really a pro ballplayer?”

Rio’s grin softened, and she switched briefly to Spanish. “Claro, pequeñín. Ready to become una estrella?”

Nicky’s eyes lit up. “You speak Spanish?”

“Grew up with it,” Rio said proudly, then winked at Agatha. “We can do lessons in both languages if you want.”

Agatha felt a tug in her chest at the easy way Rio included her son. Maybe hiring this woman had been the right call after all.

The first few weeks followed a steady pattern. Rio arrived twice a week to teach Nicky batting, pitching, and fielding. She teased him gently, guided him with a firm but patient hand, and didn’t seem to mind if he talked non-stop about cartoon superheroes in between drills.

Agatha hovered at a polite distance, watching. There was a careful neutrality to their exchanges; after all, she had hired Rio for a service, nothing more. Still, she couldn’t help warming to the girl’s enthusiasm and the way Nicky’s eyes danced whenever Rio praised him.

One evening, after Nicky sprawled out on the couch, exhausted from practice, Rio lingered to chat with Agatha in the kitchen. Soft conversation about baseball turned into more personal confessions like how Rio’s childhood had been turbulent, how she moved around too much to keep friends, or how Agatha had been a single mom since Nicky was a toddler.

A small hush settled as they each realized: They were sharing more than just small talk. And neither seemed ready to stop.

Agatha prided herself on being composed, but she found her thoughts drifting to Rio’s half-smile or her easy laugh at odd moments—during work meetings or while sorting laundry. Sometimes she’d recall the way Rio guided Nicky’s hands on the bat, so patient and earnest.

For Rio, the feeling was mutual. She’d arrive at the Harkness home and feel inexplicable relief like walking into a place she was actually wanted. She found herself joking in Spanish with Nicky, then translating for Agatha, who watched it all with a soft, guarded smile.

Over dinner one night—Agatha had insisted Rio stay, “since you’re already here”—Rio set down her fork and looked up. “I’m not… good at being part of people’s lives. I usually move on quick.”

Agatha poured more water for both of them. “I understand. I’m not great at letting people in, either.”

A flicker of vulnerability passed between them. Rio forced a grin, diffusing the heaviness. “We’re quite a pair, huh?”

Agatha merely smiled in that quiet, knowing way. “Maybe we are.”

A few weeks later, after a particularly great practice session, Rio turned to Agatha with a spark in her eye. “Let me take you somewhere fun tonight. A date, if you’re up for it.”

Agatha arched an eyebrow, intrigued. She’d half-expected a swanky bar or a chic restaurant. Instead, when they pulled up to an old-school batting cage on the edge of town, she let out a surprised laugh. “Seriously? This is your idea of a first date?”

Rio shrugged, pulling out two bats from her trunk. “Hey, I promised it’d be fun.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, but a hint of a smile tugged at her lips. “Alright. Impress me.”

Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, illuminating the row of cages. The muffled clang of metal on baseball echoed around them. Rio slid a token into the machine, stepped up to the plate, and cracked a ball dead center on her first swing. She launched several more in quick succession, her body relaxed and confident.

Watching from behind the chain-link, Agatha tried not to stare too blatantly at Rio’s toned arms, the flash of delicate skin as her shirt lifted with each swing. Still, a flutter in her stomach reminded her she wasn’t immune to the quiet lure of this woman.

When it was Agatha’s turn, Rio insisted on helping her form. “Loosen your grip,” Rio murmured, stepping behind her. Her hands slid over Agatha’s, guiding the bat. Their bodies almost touched, heat radiating between them.

Agatha swallowed hard, inhaling the faint scent of Rio’s shampoo. “You’re making this… distracting,” she teased breathlessly.

Rio’s lips curved near Agatha’s ear. “Maybe that’s on purpose.”

Agatha half-laughed, half-sighed. “You’re a lot of talk, you know that?”

Rio chuckled. “You can handle it.”

Agatha swung the bat… and missed by a mile. Both dissolved into laughter. But as the humor subsided, an underlying tension remained, heavier and more significant than simple flirtation.

After a few awkward misses, Rio hit pause on the machine. Agatha lowered the bat, feeling her heart pound. The realization struck her: She wanted this closeness with Rio. And not just tonight, but something real. Something a single mother like her had to be cautious about.

Rio noticed her pensive expression. “You okay, sweetheart?”

Agatha set the bat aside. “If we keep going,” she began softly, “it can’t just be a fling. I can’t do casual, Rio. I have a son to think about.”

Rio’s eyes flickered with understanding. “You think I’d do all this just to walk away?”

Agatha shrugged, vulnerability creeping into her posture. “I’m not sure...”

Rio nodded, stepping closer, voice steady but gentle. “I’m not walking away from this.”

Relief flooded Agatha’s features. She inhaled slowly, processing the weight of it. And then, they shared a look—both terrified and thrilled—before Rio tugged her in for a slow, tender kiss, their first real acknowledgment that this went beyond attraction.

When they finally pulled apart, Agatha rested her forehead against Rio’s shoulder. “A batting cage,” she murmured, a hint of humor in her tone. “You took me to a batting cage.”

Rio laughed softly, arms circling Agatha’s waist. “Next time let’s bring Nicky.”

In the following weeks, the lines between friend, coach, and potential partner blurred in a warmer, more open way. Nicky didn’t know the full extent of their new relationship, but he picked up on the extra smiles, the gentle touches when Rio and Agatha thought he wasn’t looking.

They continued their usual practices where Nicky’s batting form improved and Rio’s Spanish lessons made him giggle. Afterward, though, the three of them had dinner together, or occasionally went out for ice cream. On quieter nights, Agatha and Rio curled up on the sofa with a glass of wine, talking until midnight and a half.

Still, doubts crept in. Agatha worried about letting Rio into Nicky’s life too deeply, in case it all fell apart. Rio wrestled with her own history of drifting away whenever things got intense. Yet each time doubt rose, they found reasons to stay.

When Nicky asked Rio for help on a school project, it felt natural for Rio to spend a Saturday afternoon scattered with glue sticks and cardboard cutouts. Agatha watched from the kitchen doorway, heart swelling at the sight of her son beaming whenever Rio gave praise.

Agatha set down the dish she was washing and joined them at the table, silently thinking: Is this it? Is this how family forms—not in one grand moment, but in a series of small ones?

Rio caught her eye, smiling softly. Agatha felt a rush of gratitude for this messy, wonderful reality. That night, as they lay side by side on Agatha’s couch, exhaustion weighing on both, Rio confessed in a murmur, “I want this. You. Him. Even if it means settling down more than I ever have before.”

Agatha’s response was a gentle kiss and the whispered promise, “I’m scared, too. But I’m in.”

Eventually, Rio moved into the spare room “temporarily,” but no one bought that label for long. Nicky clung to her at bedtime, asking for Spanish lullabies or quick pep talks before important Little League games. She fit into their routine so seamlessly, it felt like she’d always been there.

One Sunday morning, Nicky bounded into the kitchen, hair disheveled, wearing his tiny baseball pajama set. Rio was frying eggs while Agatha skimmed the newspaper. She was old-fashioned that way. Without pausing, Nicky tugged on Rio’s shirt, blurting out, “Mami, can I have mine scrambled?”

Rio’s hand froze on the spatula. Agatha’s eyes shot up, breath caught in her throat. For a moment, Nicky didn’t realize the significance and he just thought he’d asked a question. But when Rio turned, her expression conflicted and tender all at once, he flushed.

“I—I mean, Rio,” he stammered, as if afraid he’d done something wrong.

Rio breathed out, heart hammering. “No, it’s okay.” She crouched down, meeting Nicky’s gaze. “If that’s what you want to call me… I’d be honored.”

Nicky’s shoulders eased, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “Okay, Mami.”

Agatha stood by, tears pricking her eyes. She reached over, resting a hand on Rio’s back, silently conveying that she was on board. This wasn’t a trivial word; it was a quiet vow that their family bond had become something real, something they all wanted to keep.

A little more here.

[lilianne-tarot]

How the Universe Has Its Way of Guiding You, and That's Okay

TW: LONG POST

I have always trusted in the universe's plan in every step of my life. When things took an ugly turn for me, when I failed at things I thought I was the best at, when I couldn’t get the things I was desperate for, I questioned the universe, "Whyyy mee?" but We, as humans, tend to run after things that feel out of our reach. A lot of us chase things, even the wrong things sometimes. But the reality is universe gives us what we need, not what we want, and that’s the difference. We often realize this too late in our journey.

A very cliché quote, "Every rejection is a redirection," is what I live by. Another famous quote from a writer says, "If things go according to your wishes, that's good. But if they go according to God's will, that's even better because it is happening the way He wants, and God will never wish anything bad for you." My mom taught me this very early in life and I reminded it to myself every time I hit rock bottom.

I have always been very intuitively blessed, and even when things were about to take a turn for me, I could feel it coming. A perfect example of how the universe gives signals in the most unexpected ways happened 2 months ago ago. I was in an awful situation, really fighting for something, feeling desperate, so I resorted to my love, my tarot cards, for guidance. As I pulled the cards, I did it multiple times because our energy really affects the cards we draw, and I was confused and anxious. But one thing kept happening: the World card kept appearing in my readings, whether through jumper cards, as a shadow card, or just somehow showing up every time.

Even though I know the meanings of my cards well, being human, I needed reassurance. So, I searched through my books, and internet, found the meaning, but left it there and went on with my day. Later that day, I randomly opened this app and saw a post explaining, "What does it mean when the World card shows up multiple times in a reading?" The moment I read that post, I had the biggest breakdown. It was like the universe was speaking directly to me, showing me how miraculously and unexpectedly it sends signals. And last week I passed the test successfully. I am finally eligible for the course I badly wanted to attend. Ultimately, the universe wasn’t lying that day. I was grinning ear to ear when I saw my results. The power the universe holds is beyond our contemplation.

The way I write my readings, I heavily credit my loneliness and ADHD for it. Funny, isn’t it? Personally, even though I have always had really supportive friends, I never had someone I could connect with on a soul level and share my deepest thoughts with. So, I resorted to journaling and talking to myself. I used to take night walks just to let out all of my thoughts to my invisible friend who would never judge me.

Two years ago, I got really serious about my tarot hobby when I was super burdened with my studies and other stuff. I started asking questions about myself and writing my own interpretations in my diary, the way I wished someone would tell me those things. I would reread them later, and that became my little comfort, even if I exaggerated things there but it gave me the happiness I was looking for at that time. Over time, my style evolved. I got better at reading the cards, better at articulating my thoughts, and when I started doing readings for others, I saw the impact it had. When people told me, "This made my heart warm," or "This gave me so much clarity," I felt so proud to be able to do that for others.

One fine day, I stumbled upon this community, completely out of the blue. The funny part is I didn’t even expect this app to have a tarot community, LOL. But when I found it, I binge-read so many posts here. And then an idea struck me: "What if I share my own readings here?" So, I made my blog. Unexpectedly, I received so much love, more than I ever imagined. It might sound like an exaggeration, but I truly feel like I found my soul family here.

None of this was planned. And that’s exactly how the universe works. It guides us in ways we don’t always see at first. Sometimes, we’re too focused on what we think we want that we don’t recognize what we truly need. But the universe has its way of showing us, through signs, through redirections, through moments of clarity that hit us unexpectedly. And when we finally look back, we realize that everything was aligning perfectly all along.

i hope i was able to bring some reassurance and comfort to anyone who might be going thorough a rough time and looking for a signal from the universe. 💗

With love, Lilianne.

Masterlist ⭑ Paid services ⭑ Ko-Fi

[rushman-natalierushman]

omg pls write a nolan x younger fem reader!! nsfw ofc

Eyes Don’t Lie

Warnings: nsfw, age gap, slow burn, toxic behavior, almost getting caught, sexual themes, MDNI

Summary: You and Mark Grayson are childhood friends. Growing up, you always knew there was something strange about the Graysons. At least one in particular. You grew curious and began observing Nolan Grayson closely, unintentionally developing a not so subtle obsession. Meddling your way into their family secrets, you find out there’s a darker side to Nolan. A side you’re inclined to bring out of him.

You’d think living in a world full of supes, they’d have better attention to detail than most. Could they really expect to keep their identities a secret from their community? Especially from neighbors just across the street? Childhood friends and family that grew up together?

Growing up, I spent most of high school guiding Mark Grayson out of his awkward phase. He was the only kid in the neighborhood who was friends with the “older, popular high school girl.” Our families were close to begin with, to the extent they allowed at least. Mark was a few years younger than me, so naturally I took him under my wing.

I’d have to admit, the Graysons had mannerisms that would sometimes come off a little abnormal, but I always assumed they were just a quirky family. At least until my senior year, when I had stayed up late studying for an exam. I caught sight of a man in a strange costume descending into the Graysons’ backyard. I made it a point to bring it up the next time Mark and I hung out. It didn’t take much for freshman Mark to spill his dad’s secrets the minute I started playfully batting my eyelashes at him with a pouty lip.

Years after I graduated, I kept in touch with Mark. Checking in, making sure he was handling academics, and suppressing the urge to kick Todd’s ass every time I heard one of Mark’s tales of how he earned a black eye from “walking into a pole” several times this year. Aside from being his mentor, I was also there to be a friend. The closest he’s had since I found out about Nolan’s identity.  Sure, I was in my early twenties now- but Mark needed someone to vent to. He didn’t want to worry his mom, although she was probably carrying the same burden. It almost made me feel guilty for feeling the way I did. 

After the first time I caught Mr. Grayson flying home, it was as if I always anticipated his arrival. Over time, I understood the many, MANY business trips and bizarre excuses whenever I’d question his whereabouts during my play dates with Mark as a kid.

Some days Nolan would arrive home without a scratch, costume clean just as he left in it. Other days, he’d come back disheveled. Parts of his suit would be torn enough to see skin, but hardly ever wounded. It was as if he was… no, that’s not quite right. He must carry scars from his battles- at least emotionally. Mentally. A man like him couldn’t walk away from such chaos and return as if it didn’t affect him.

Did it affect him? Did he care? Was his family enough to bring him peace? Or was he cold hearted enough to ignore the countless lives of victims that didn’t survive that they call “collateral damage.” The more curious I grew, the more I found myself purposefully looking out my window.  I’d pry my mesh curtains open, peering out the window in hopes to catch that familiar flash of red. Maybe it was much, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew I was watching, waiting for him to arrive. It’s become routine at this point. He flies off to save the world, disappears for a few days- weeks even. I’d take a glimpse out my window every so often, scanning the clouds. 

Sometimes I’d get caught by Mark, walking down his driveway on his way to school. I’d have to play it off as if I was daydreaming like some half minded sorority girl, but I was always looking out for his father. Infatuated by him. Since I was young, I’ve had this school girl crush on Mr. Grayson. There’s this gleam in his eye that reels me in. They concealed a darkness; one that intrigued me. I could never pinpoint how I assume this hidden trait, seeing as he’s the strongest superhero. He was kind and nurturing, or maybe it was an act.

Every weekend since I've started college, Mark and I would gather our families to catch up over dinner. The days that Nolan didn’t show, our time would fly with warm greeting and shared laughter, but the days that Nolan showed, there was this looming tension. Lately, every visit felt less and less welcoming. I couldn’t tell if it was in my head, but it always felt like his glares across the table were directed at me. Mark had begun distancing himself, and I was growing worried. Did we offend them somehow? 

It took a lot of courage, but I eventually found myself walking up their driveway. Before I could ring the doorbell, the door swung up with Mark on the other side.

“Mark!” I stated in shock.

“Y/n?” 

“Listen, I wanted to talk-“

“Mark was just leaving,” a deep, gravely voice cut me off. To no surprise, Nolan was peering from behind. His dark, cold eyes sending a shiver down my spine.

“Right…” I stepped aside as Mark nodded apologetically. My saddened eyes followed him as he began walking down the block, at least until I heard his father clearing his throat behind me.

“Mr. Grayson, I-"

“Nolan,” he corrected. “We’re past the formalities, you’re not a child anymore.”

“Sorry, Nolan- sir…” I stuttered, mentally kicking myself. “I just haven’t been over in so long, I wasn’t sure if-"

“Why are you here, y/n?” 

“With all due respect… Nolan. I can’t help but feel that you’re pushing us away.” I calmly pointed out as I caught him intaking a sharp breath. He stood taller than before, if it were even possible. I gulped under his intimidation. “With all Mark has been through-"

“What would you know about what Mark has been through?”

“Sir, I’ve known Mark since we were kids. You can’t be surprised that he’s vented about some things-" before I could finish my argument, I was pulled harshly inside their home. As the door slammed shut, I was pushed into it. Nolan’s arms trapping me in place as they gripped my shoulders. It all happened so fast, my heart was racing through my chest. His scowl was mean. My eyes darted back and forth between his.

“Do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into?” He whispered rather harshly.

“I-I don’t understand.”

“This house is under extreme surveillance. If you claim to know of any “experiences” or “knowledge”, you will be forced into a life you do not understand.”

“If this is about you being Omni-man-“ Suddenly, I was whipped forward only to be slammed right back into the door. I winced at the impact as I caught that gleam in his eyes.

“You think I haven’t noticed? Every departure. Every take off. I can feel you watching me. You’re not any more discrete than the empty house beside yours, full of agents and fail safes in case I go rogue.”

“Will you?” I narrowed my eyes. “Go rogue?”

His grip on my shoulders loosened. I scanned his features, picking up on his beard. I hadn’t noticed until now that he looked rather worn down. He must’ve just gotten back from a fight not too long ago. Possibly involving the aliens that kept attempting to invade our planet every three days. It suited him. 

“Honey? Is everything alright down there?” Debbie’s voice rang from upstairs. Nolan responded reassuringly without raising concern. It was enough to keep Debbie from coming down, but that didn't phase me. My attention and focus was locked on Nolan. This was always my favorite look on him. Untamed hair, stern expression. I knew it was wrong. He’s married. How could I possibly be fantasizing about the way he has me trapped beneath his form; his wife upstairs. Oh, how I wanted him to overpower me in a far more inappropriate manner.

“Please…” I accidentally let out in barely a whisper. I mewled for him, but I couldn’t let him know that. Could I?

“Please what?” Nolan expressed confusingly. 

“Please, let me go.” I attempted to shrug off my tone.

“So you can run off and expose my identity to the rest of the world and risk the safety of this family?”

“No… because if you keep me trapped here, I can’t promise I won’t do something stupid.”

Nolan’s expression turned from confusion, to a rather lustful one. He was probably trying to contain it, but I’ve studied him for years…

“Unless, of course, you want me to,” I teased as I slowly tilted my chin up so that our lips were hovering over each other. For a moment, he showed weakness. Letting himself linger a second too long before taking a step back.

“Don’t be ridiculous."

“Is it?” I pushed. “Come on, Nolan.” I dragged his name so that my voice stuck in his head. “You said it yourself. I’ve waited for you, longed for you. Hoping one day you’d realize how much I’ve grown.”

Nolan shut his eyes, attempting to ignore my sultry tone as I continued on.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. I see the way you look at me.” As if on cue, his eyelids slowly revealed his ocean filled eyes. They started at my thighs, eyes roaming my form. “Every weekend. In front of my family…” I leaned in close enough to talk lowly in his ear. “In front of your wife.” 

The corner of my lips curled upward into a smirk as the shower upstairs turned on. Nolan used this to his advantage and swiftly moved us against the wall beneath the staircase, displaying his speed and strength. His hand forcing a grip on my throat, pinning me. It wasn’t enough to cut off my air supply, but a scare tactic at best. “Do not speak of my wife as if she weren’t under this roof.”

“Oh, please- I know there’s a darkness in you. Eyes don't lie. I know your thoughts have wandered. You’ve felt conflicted because you know Mark and I grew up together, but I’m older now.”

“Not old enough.” Nolan argued, but it was enough to confirm my theory. 

“You can stop pretending,” I scoffed. “The only way you would have known I was watching you all this time, is if you were peeking through my window too.”

“Enough,” his eyebrows furrowed in denial.

“Did you enjoy the show?” I teased once more before jolting at his fist crashing on the wall beside my head.

“I said enough!” I laughed in disbelief. How far was he willing to go to keep up his charade? Surely the impact on the wall made a dent, but it was also loud enough to be brought to Debbie’s attention.

“Nolan, what’s going on?” Her tone grew concerned, yelling over the spraying water.

“Mrs. Grayson?” I pitched in, earning a tighter grip on my throat. “I’m sorry, I’m such a klutz. I was just-“

“Y/n was just stopping by to bring back some of my books Mark lent her parents last weekend.” I tilted my head, confused at his statement. “She tripped and crashed the box into the wall, leaving a small dent.” Nice cover.

“Y/n, hun, are you alright?”

“Oh, yes, Mrs. Grayson. Your husband is taking good care of me.” I winked as he nervously chuckled to accommodate to my comment. Once Debbie had returned to her duties, my attention was brought back to his earlier statement. “Mark was at my parents? So you’re not pushing my family away; you’re just avoiding me.” I self proclaimed. “Why?”

“You know why.” Nolan finally admits.

“Show me…” I tested. I didn’t know how this would play out. I only hoped- dreamed- that it would turn out in my favor. For a moment, our eyes locked. I could see him pretending to contemplate, but I could feel the lust radiating off of him.

“Fuck it.” 

My lips parted as he leaned in, crashing his lips into mine. The kiss was dominating and full of need. Pent up frustration built up over the years, finally releasing in this moment. Our lips mimicked each other’s movements, groaning ever so lightly as to not alarm Debbie. His hold on my neck pulled me in closer as his leg planted itself between mine, using his knee to make room for him. My core ached as his muscled thigh applied pressure.

Neither of us faltered from our synced movements until I gasped out for air. It was then I hissed out in pleasure as I felt my hip begin to roll against his thigh. His hand on my throat migrated to grip my chin, forcing me to look away so that he had access to my neck. His tongue trailed up my neck before sucking at my jaw. Shutting my eyes in pleasure, I found myself tangling my fingers in his hair. I panted as he rubbed himself against me, working his leg to provide the right amount of friction. In doing so, I could feel his own arousal building up as his jeans tented up. He began leaving small pecks back down to my neck, trailing down to my collar bone. 

With the overwhelming multiple sensations, I couldn’t help but moan out lightly. This quickly earned a love bite at my collar bone, reaching his hand to cover my mouth. My whimpers grew muffled as I felt a familiar coil. My head rested against the wall, attempting to hold back my release to extend the moment. I began tugging on the hairs at the nape of his nick as his bear tickled my chest. The sounds escaping my throat rose higher in pitch, threatening to reach my climax. 

Just as I felt myself crumble under his touch, the upstairs bathroom door swung open. Nolan jumped away from me, leaning back on the counter as my chest heaved and my knees buckled. I used the wall behind me as leverage to hold myself up as I caught my breath.

The cherry on top was Mark entering the front door, catching my flushed expression. I immediately turned away to hide my pleasure written face as Nolan stepped between us to cover me from Mark’s view.

“Mark, you’re home… early,” Nolan attempted.

“Yeah that… project,” we all knew that was bullshit, but for the sake of argument- “was easier to put together than expected.”

“Good, great. Listen, I think it’s time we all have a chat,” Nolan insisted. I snapped my head back in their direction, not knowing where this was headed. “As soon as your mother comes down, I think there are some family matters to be discussed. Some that may involve y/n.”

My eyes widened. Let the reunion begin.

[steddieas-shegoes]

a stranger's advice

for @corrodedcoffinfest popup event 'Good Fortune'

using prompt 7: a single kind word can keep one warm for years + mouth + 48, 13, 46, 27, 31, 18

rated m | 1408 words | cw: implied sexual content kinda | tags: modern au, different first meeting, flirting, eventual famous corroded coffin, eventual rock star eddie munson, sound mixer steve harrington, strangers to lovers

🎚️🎚️🎚️🎚️🎚️🎚️🎚️🎚️🎚️🎚️🎚️🎚️🎚️

Eddie’s giving up.

They’ve done all they can do.

Jeff’s dad is threatening to cut him off entirely if he doesn’t go to college and Gareth’s mom calls him crying twice a week, worried he’s gonna end up homeless or in rehab. Gareth’s never touched a drug or more than a single beer in his life and works harder than any of them, but he’s tired of telling her that. Frankie doesn’t have the same passion they have; He’s just there as the guy who answered an ad for a bassist.

No record label wants them, most larger venues don’t want to pay what it would cost for them to get there, and the smaller venues are getting less crowded as more people flock to arenas and stadiums to see big name bands. They aren’t as good as they thought they were and Eddie has to accept that.

He’s feeling sorry for himself in the hallway of this record company first, though.

The other guys already shook hands with everyone, patted Eddie on the shoulder, and left. He’s alone now, and he’ll be alone for the rest of his life.

“Waiting for a ride?” A man asks from in front of him.

Eddie looks up and sees someone he vaguely recognizes as the assistant who sat in on their unsuccessful meeting 18 whole minutes ago. He’s stunning in the way that someone way outside of Eddie’s league usually is, but damn if he doesn’t get stuck looking anyways.

The man raises a brow and crosses his arms.

“Uh, no. Sorry. I have one. Just needed a minute.”

The man nods and then uncrosses his arms, sighing.

“You want some advice?”

“Not sure if it’ll do me any good. My band’s done. I’m nothing without them,” Eddie lets himself sound as pitiful as he feels.

“A 13 track demo is too much. Most places aren’t listening to more than five songs at all, and that’s only if they’re impressed by the first two. You guys sound great, and clearly have passion, but it’s not heard by the people who need to hear it,” the man says despite Eddie’s warning.

Eddie is a bit distracted by the way his mouth forms words, like he’s trying to hide an accent. This is LA. A lot of transplants from the south and Midwest don’t like people to know.

“And you know this as the assistant?” Eddie asks and wishes he didn’t.

“I’m the sound mixer. The assistant is out and they asked me to fill in. But I’ve seen how this goes enough to see that you guys have everything right except the part you need,” he gives a small smile. “Cut down the tracks and you’ll be set. You’ve got an amazing voice. Don’t give up yet.”

The man walks away before Eddie can say thank you or ask any follow up questions like ‘do you want to come home with me?’ or ‘does your hair naturally swoop like that or is there product doing the job?’

Eddie decides to head out, waits nearly 31 minutes for an Uber, which is ridiculous when he’s staying in a hotel less than 10 minutes from the building. The guys are at the hotel bar when he arrives, sipping on sodas instead of mixed drinks like they deserve.

“Give me one more shot,” he begs.

They look at each other. They look back at him.

“One more,” Jeff agrees as they all nod.

~~~~~

“Can’t believe there’s 46,000 people here!” Eddie yells as he’s running off the stage.

There aren’t exactly 46,000 people watching them; That number is closer to 27,000. But there are 46,000 tickets sold for this particular event, which means that 46,000 people have seen Corroded Coffin’s name on a ticket stub or event guide. It’s more than he ever expected to know about them.

He’s so excited about the set they just played, he nearly runs right into a guy in nice jeans and a sweater. It’s too fucking hot for a sweater.

The guy grabs Eddie’s arms to steady both of them and Eddie looks up and his jaw drops.

“Holy shit, it’s you.”

“It’s me,” the man replies, smirking at Eddie’s surprise. “Had to see what our label missed out on in person.”

The other guys are rushing past him, probably to get to the green room for drinks and snacks. They never eat before a show, and when they’re done, they’re ravenous.

The man hasn’t let him go yet. He could. Eddie’s balance is fine, his initial adrenaline is crawling to a normal level, and he isn’t gonna suddenly run into anyone else.

“Your advice worked,” Eddie says.

The man nods, knowing smile on his face. “I’m glad you listened to me.”

“It wasn’t just your advice though,” Eddie admits. “I mean, it definitely helped! But you actually saw talent. We were feeling kinda down about how good we were and you made me realize that it’s probably not our talent that’s the problem. We’re good. We’ve been good. We just didn’t know how to show that to the right people.”

“There’s 48 bands here this weekend, you know?” The man asks, as if that’s a normal response to anything Eddie just said.

“Um, yeah. I know.”

“We represent 47 of them.”

Eddie’s brows practically leave his forehead. “But…”

“I insisted they get you guys on the lineup when I saw the options available. And I couldn’t pass up another opportunity to talk to you.”

Eddie feels like he might pass out, which could definitely be from dehydration or overheating, but could also be the very hot man in front of him kind of flirting with him?

“Sorry, I think I’m having a stroke. I don’t even remember your name. You’ve just been Hot Man in my head for four years,” Eddie manages to get out, feeling his cheeks heat up at the embarrassment of his outburst.

Hot Man laughs, throws his head back and everything, like this is the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

“Steve. I’m Steve,” he says when he’s calmed down.

“Steve.” Eddie likes the way his name sounds coming from his own lips. “I’m Eddie.”

“I know,” he laughs again, quieter, more fondness sneaking in.

“Well, Steve, would you like to join me for a drink in the green room? I hear the lead singer of Corroded Coffin requested only the finest PBR,” Eddie gestures towards the steps leading off the stage. “Or perhaps you’d enjoy a vodka soda.”

“I’d love to,” Steve giggles. Eddie feels like he’s won something. “But I am technically working for a few more hours.”

“Oh,” Eddie swallows around the disappointment. “Right. Okay.”

“But I’m staying at the Marriott down the road. If you wanted to meet for dinner later?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Definitely. For sure.” Eddie groans at his awkward excitement, but Steve is giggling again. Hearing a hot man giggle like this just does something to his brain.

“Great. Here’s my number. Text me so I have yours,” Steve hands over a business card and Eddie ignores his dick twitching in his too-tight pants. “See you tonight.”

Eddie’s mouth feels dry as he nods.

Steve is already gone when he finally thinks of something to say, so he groans and makes his way to the green room, where the guys are all spread out across the couches placed haphazardly around.

“Where’d you go?” Gareth asks him before he takes a sip of his water. He’s still a one and done drinker and Eddie loves him for it.

“Got a date,” Eddie shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“A date?!” Frankie asks, nearly spilling his beer.

“Don’t act so surprised, man. I date!”

“You haven’t ‘dated’ anyone since high school.”

“Haven’t felt like I needed to. I was busy getting us famous,” Eddie smirks, finds a beer in the fridge, and settles on a chair. “It might just be one date anyway. He’s probably a busy guy and I’m not sure I’m really his type.”

“Yeah, right. If he’s here, you’re his type,” Jeff laughs.

Everyone moves on quickly, which is a blessing for Eddie because he gets lost in thoughts about Steve pretty much immediately.

In the years they spent trying to make it, only one person ever gave him helpful advice. Only one person spoke of his talent and made him feel like they could still make it.

And now he had a date with him.

[archangeldyke-all]

oh my gosh. i just went down a RABBIT HOLE of the little fucker fics and ive probably never been this invested in a story more than this. i literally loved EVERY MOMENT. you deserve absolutely everything omg thank u for blessing us all🙏🏻😔

for my requestt, id ADORE to see sevika and reader telling stories from when they were little and showing photos (kindof in a teenage dirtbag kind of way? like the cool ass parents in the 90s vibe) to little fucker and the twins (maybe vi, jinx and caif too)

ANYWAYS IM IN LOVE W U MARRY ME MWAH

i LOVE this i'm gonna combine it too ehheheheh

SEVIKA AND READER AS GRANDPARENTS???*wink wink nudge nudge*

men and minors dni

in your years together, you and sevika have helped raise a lot of kids. some of them came to you through fate; vi and jinx and isha. some of them are your own flesh and blood; little fucker and the twins. some of them are your in-laws; ekko, cait, and smooches. you love them all with your entire heart regardless of how they came into your lives.

now that they're all grown up they all make great efforts to see you and sevika often. you've got at least one kid visiting you almost every night of the week. but coordinating eleven schedules to clear one evening for a family dinner is incredibly hard; so besides the holidays it's rare that all your kids are under the same roof at the same time.

so you know something's going on when you and sevika come home from a movie to all your children cooking dinner in your kitchen.

"what the fuck!? what's the special occasion?" you ask as you scoop as many of your kids in your arms as you can hold. sevika's giving noogies to the rest.

"momma... mommy..." little fucker starts. "come sit down."

you let your daughter guide you to the table, shrugging at sevika when she shoots you a questioning look. smooches approaches with two glasses of whiskey, passing one to you and your wife. you gulp.

"what's going on? you kids in trouble? you need a loan?" sevika asks.

from where she's stirring something on the stove, violet chuckles. "so paranoid."

always assuming the worst. isha signs with a giggle.

little fucker sits across from you. shithead and stinkybutt start giggling nervously with one another, smacking each other's shoulders to get quiet. ekko snorts and waves at them, trying to shut them up.

"okay, i'm starting to freak out. i don't like when all you kids get to scheming together." you say.

"would you just tell 'em already? look at sev, she's preparing for a heart attack." jinx says with a giggle.

you glance over at your wife and chuckle at the constipated expression on her face as she tries to parse the situation. you reach out and grab her hand.

"i'm pregnant." little fucker says.

you frown. "what?"

"we're expecting." smooches says.

beside you, sevika shifts. "...how?" she asks. your kids burst into laughter.

"m-moms, the same way you two got pregnant with me!" little fucker giggles.

oh. right.

"i think they're in shock." cait whispers.

"give 'em a second." shithead says.

"three... two... one..."

"we're gonna be grandmas!?" sevika squeals, jumping up from her seat. you burst into tears as your kids burst into a fresh round of laughter.

"oh, janna, this is so fucking amazing!" you sob.

you and sevika swarm little fucker and smooches, peppering them with kisses, sobbing into their shoulders.

there they go. isha signs with a giggle.

"you all knew!?" sevika asks, betrayed.

ekko laughs. "we wanted to surprise you."

"how far along are you?" you ask your baby. she giggles.

"two months."

"you think it's a boy or a girl?" sevika asks. little fucker giggles.

"it's too early to know, mommy."

"well, since it's this family, it's likely a girl." vi says.

ekko scoffs. "i'm right here!"

you and sevika cry all the way through dinner. your kids celebrate by raiding your liquor cabinet, passing bottles around and cheers-ing endlessly. little fucker groans about being the only sober one, and it makes you cry again. your baby is having a baby.

at some point, caitlyn gets up to grab dessert. she returns with a dish of her famous piltover pecan pie, and a dust old shoebox. "i found this in the drawer under the oven. you do realize that's a warming drawer, right?" she asks.

you gasp at the box, pulling it toward your body. sevika scoffs at cait's words. "maybe for you. i know storage space when i see it."

"what is it?" vi asks.

"oh janna, i forgot all about this!" you giggle, opening the lid. the shoebox is stuffed full of ancient photographs, all developed in the early years of you and sevika's relationship.

you were a bit of a sentimental sap when you first started dating your now-wife. you knew from the first date that you were going to marry her... so you took to collecting mementos of your time together. photographs, ticket stubs, wrappers from the chocolates she bought for your first valentines day, flakey dried flowers-- anything and everything from when you were young and dumb and in love.

"it's her love-box." sevika explains for you.

love-box sounds dirty as hell. isha signs.

you cackle. "not that kinda love-box. it's pictures from when me and your big mama were kids. fuck, look at us in this one, sev." you giggle, admiring a strip from a photo booth on the promenade.

it features four pictures of you and your wife-- then girlfriend. in the first, you're grinning and sevika's scowling at the camera-- clearly you've dragged her into the booth against her will. in the second, you're gawking at her as she lights up a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. in the third, she blows the smoke in your cringing face, and in the fourth, you're kissing her against the wall of the booth, her cigarette hanging limply from her fingers.

sevika snorts down at the strip, then passes it to ekko. "we were such dorks." she says fondly.

"oh janna you guys look so young!" he gasps.

"hey. we're still young." you scold.

"awe... moms, you were cute!" stinkybutt laughs.

"we're still cute!" sevika echo's your sentiment.

"do you still have this leather jacket?" vi asks sevika, gasping at the picture.

"probably buried somewhere around here."

"probably in the freezer." cait huffs, still offended at the mis-use of space in your oven drawer.

"ope!" you giggle as you quickly smack a picture face down on the table. "d-don't look at that one, kids." you giggle. sevika pulls the picture over to her, taking a quick glance like it's a hand of cards. she bites her lip, her face turning crimson and a shy smile on her lips as she nods.

"yeah, leave that one alone."

"awe, fuck, are your old-ass nudes in there?!" jinx groans in disgust. you and sevika burst into giggles, leaning into one another.

"moms gross!" shithead whines. you laugh.

"oh, whatever! your moms have sex, grow up. your sister's pregnant, y'know? how do you think that happened?"

"ew, ma, stop!" little fucker squeals.

smooches is laughing so hard she's choking for air.

"holy shit, this is you!?" ekko gasps from where he's started rifling through the old pictures.

it's a newspaper clipping-- a review for the last drop; which at the time, was the trendiest, newest queer club in town. the black and white photograph is small, only two by two inches, but the image is clear. you and sevika, grinding on a packed dance floor, smiles on your lips, your eyes locked with each other.

sevika hums. "fuck, we were so young."

"i can't tell if i'm impressed at how cool you guys were, or disgusted." vi says.

"again, what's with all this past tense? we're still cool!"

you guys just got back from seeing the early-bird movie showing because you're too old to stay up for the eight pm show. isha signs with a roll of her eyes. you cackle.

"w-- that is not why we go to the early shows!" sevika defends.

"then why do you go so early?" shithead asks with a suspicious glare.

"so we can have sex for a good long while once we get back." you say. groans break out around the table, and you giggle. whoops. you've had a few too many drinks.

"ma, please, your grandchild is present."

"she can't fuckin' hear her in there!" sevika cackles as she wraps an arm around your shoulders.you turn to kiss her, grinning against her lips as your kids start boo-ing the pair of you.

kofi

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

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taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha @vikashoneybee @shanesevikasfuckdoll @imheadintothemountains

@ferxanda @helaenabugmom @spookymomfriendtm @leeidk87

[boybandbaby]

Secret (Evan Buckley x SingleMom!Reader)

word count: 1343

warnings/tags: nervous buck, 18+ mdni (mention of sex), as always please let me know if i missed anything

note: part of my single mom reader universe which can be found here

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Buck had noticed your change in demeanor from the first two dates. He thought things had been going well but he’s starting to second guess himself.

He starts to think that maybe he had worked up this idea that things with you could be end game. I mean it was only your third date and he was already thinking of engagement rings.

He had been scolded by each member of the team and his sister when he asked Chimney which ring shop he went to. They all told him to slow his roll and not to get ahead of himself. Though they were excited for him and his new situationship, they didn't want him to get too ahead of himself.

He wonders if maybe you had noticed that he was beginning to really have feelings for you. Maybe now you had found him creepy or too pushy or too needy. Was he texting you too much? Was he asking to see you too much? Had he made you uncomfortable and now you were trying to figure out how to break things off already?

Then he remembered a joking comment from Eddie on yesterday's shift. He had been discussing the movie you picked out for both of you to see and that he was really excited to spend more time with you.

"How long have you guys been seeing each other?" Eddie had asked.

"We've been talking for a little over a month but it's officially our third date." Buck replied, buttoning his shirt up.

"Ooh, third date? You know what that means." Eddie wiggled his eyebrows. Buck knew he said it to be funny but now Buck wonders if you maybe live by the ridiculous rule of sleeping together after the third date.

What if you’re expecting sex tonight? Or what if you’re freaking out about him wanting sex tonight? Or what if you don’t want sex with him at all, ever?

Buck can feel himself sweating through his shirt in the very well air conditioned movie theatre. He’s glad it’s somewhat dark or he’s sure you could see the sweat beads rolling off his forehead. He knows you very well may be able to see him as he can see your face clearly in the light from the screen.

You’re quieter today. Face bright under the movie lights with a small smile that has a hint of nervousness in it. The popcorn bowl is still quite full and candy boxes unopened despite both of you stating you loved movie snacks.

You spend the entire movie silent and rigid in your seats. Your hands found each others' the first two dates. The first time over the table at dinner and the second time on the car console on your way to the beach. Now, they lay in your lap and his on the arm rests. You're itching to hold his hand but you're just too nervous about the secret you're holding in.

Buck knows he has to confront you kindly after the movie about what’s going on and hopefully reassure you he’s not in this just for sex. So as you’re both finally leaving the theatre, the last ones, he goes to speak when you do first. “That was a good movie, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I enjoyed it.” He smiles, hands in his pockets as you stand in the cold, face illuminated by the neon lights of the signs out front. Buck cannot remember who was even in the movie, let alone the plot. “Look, I wanted to talk to you about something…” he trails off.

“Oh? Um, yeah sure.” You look around and guide him to a near by metal bench. “Everything okay?”

Internally, you’re spiraling. You know you haven’t been acting normal tonight but you hoped that he would just ignore it. You’ve only known him for a few short weeks but you know parts of him by now. You know Buck has a habit of overthinking things so you’re sure he’s picked up on it. You’re wondering if somehow he knows your secret.

“I know it’s our third date and there’s this like third date rule that people follow. I just want you to know that I’m not expecting anything from you. I hope that’s not why you’ve been quiet all night. I know we’re still getting to know each other but I hope you know that I would never try to pressure you into doing something you weren’t comfortable with.” Buck rambles, hands flexing and squeezing on his thighs. He can feel sweat accumulating on his palms and he realizes he hasn’t even looked at your face since he started talking.

When he looks up, your eyes are slightly glossy and he’s not sure what he’s said to make you…upset?

“Y/n…”

“I have a daughter!” You blurt. When you search his face for any sort of information on how he’s feeling about this news, you’re met with furrowed brows, mouth slightly agape, and silence. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled it out like that. All night I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you. It’s the third date and yes I’m aware of the third date rule but I of course know you weren’t trying to sleep with me. I just figured the third date is either make or break and it was time for me to tell you about my daughter. You know, that way you can decide if you want to continue seeing me or get out before it goes any further.”

“What’s uhhhh, what’s her name?” He stutters.

“Her name is Evie. She just recently turned 7. Her father isn’t in the picture but that’s a story for another time.” You wave off. “What do you think? Or like how are you feeling about all this? I'm so sorry I haven't said anything up until now."

“It’s doesn’t change how I feel about you. I’m surprised, sure, but I know you probably kept it a secret for a reason. I can’t imagine it’s easy being a single parent and trying to date.”

“It’s not just that. I don’t want to bring someone around her until I know that it’s serious and it hardly gets to the serious state. I really like you but I was scared this would scare you away. I’m also scared that we’ll get in too deep and you’ll realize you don’t want to be with a woman who has a kid or that the other shoe will drop and you’ll be this horrible evil guy.” You finally grab his hand. "But I know you're not a bad guy."

“Just breathe.” Buck kisses your knuckles. “Breathe, babe. I totally understand where you’re coming from. We'll take this as slow as you want. Your daughter comes first and I want to be part of your life and eventually hers if you'll let me."

"You're seriously so sweet, Buck." You pull him in for a hug. "I don't want to force you to stay or make you feel like you have to be okay with this."

"You're not forcing me to do anything. I really really like you and I want to make this work. I'll be as involved as you'll let me and I'll be patient with you just like you are with me and my job." He rubs your back before kissing your forehead. "Please don't ever scare me like that again, though. I was freaking out the entire movie."

"I'm sorry! I was nervous!" You laugh. "I could barely pay attention to what was happening."

"I don't even remember what movie we were watching." He smiles. "You want to go for ice cream? Or do you have a curfew?"

"Shut up, I don't have a curfew." You push his shoulder. "I could go for ice cream, as long as you're buying."

"I think you should buy me ice cream since you had me on edge all night." He winks. "Come on, milfy."

"Evan!" Your eyes widen as he starts running to his car. "I can't believe you just said that!"

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

[sushiyuzu]

broken promises

you (single parent) & little gumi

warning: contains themes of divorce, emotional distress, and family separation. may be sensitive for readers dealing with similar experiences.

it’s been a week since the divorce papers were signed, and you still haven’t quite adjusted to waking up in an empty bed. the house feels unnervingly silent without the familiar sounds of toji’s presence. you pull the blanket tighter around yourself, trying to summon the energy to face the day, but the heaviness in your chest weighs you down.

then, you hear it.

“mom?”

the soft, sleepy voice of megumi calls out from his room, breaking through the quiet. you rub your eyes and force yourself to get up, pushing away the ache of exhaustion. today isn’t about you—it’s about him. you slide out of bed, your feet cold against the floor, and make your way to his room.

he’s sitting up, hair tousled, blinking sleepily as you walk in. his little arms reach out to you, and without a second thought, you pull him into a hug, breathing in the scent of him. his small frame against yours is both comforting and heartbreaking. you can feel how much he relies on you, and the weight of being his sole parent hits you hard.

“morning, sweetheart,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head before pulling away to look at him. his wide eyes, so much like toji’s, peer up at you, filled with innocence.

“are we making pancakes today?” he asks, his voice still laced with sleep.

you force a smile, nodding. “yeah, we can make pancakes. how about we get you dressed first?”

he nods enthusiastically, and you help him out of bed, trying to focus on the simple tasks. you guide him through the motions—brushing his teeth, getting him dressed, combing through his unruly hair. it’s all routine, but every now and then, your mind drifts to how things used to be. mornings like this used to feel lighter, easier, when toji was still around.

you push the thought away. not today.

as you stand at the stove, flipping pancakes, megumi sits at the table, chattering about the park and the new toy he saw on tv. you try to focus on him, but there’s a dull ache in your chest, a reminder of the life you had before, now shattered. when the pancakes are ready, you sit with megumi and watch him eat, his little face lighting up with every bite.

and then, out of nowhere, he asks, “why doesn’t dad live with us anymore?”

your heart stops.

you stare at him, words caught in your throat. he looks at you, expecting an answer, but how do you explain something like this to a child? you put your fork down and try to keep your voice steady, even though your heart is racing.

“well... sometimes, grown-ups have to make decisions that are best for everyone,” you start, feeling the weight of each word. “but that doesn’t mean dad doesn’t care about you. he loves you very much.”

megumi furrows his brow, clearly not understanding. you wish you could give him more, but how do you tell him the truth? how do you tell him that his father was never really there the way he should’ve been?

“does he miss us?” he asks quietly, and the question nearly breaks you.

you force a smile, even though it feels like your chest is caving in. “i’m sure he does.”

megumi nods slowly, but you can see the uncertainty in his eyes. he’s still so young, too young to understand the complexities of divorce, of separation. you want to protect him from the pain, but you know there’s only so much you can do.

that night, after you tuck megumi into bed, you collapse onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. the exhaustion isn’t just physical—it’s emotional. every part of you feels drained. just as your eyes begin to close, you hear a soft whimper from megumi’s room.

“mom…”

his voice is shaky, small, and it instantly pulls you to your feet. you rush into his room and find him sitting up in bed, tears streaking his cheeks.

“gumi, what’s wrong?” you ask, kneeling beside him, brushing the hair from his forehead.

“i had a bad dream,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “i dreamed that you and dad were gone.”

the words cut through you like a knife. you wrap your arms around him, holding him close as he sobs into your shoulder. “i’m here,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “i’m not going anywhere, okay? i promise.”

but even as you say the words, you can feel the weight of the promise hanging heavy over you. how many times have you reassured him, only for life to take a different turn? you hold him tighter, hoping it’s enough to soothe his fears, if only for tonight.

a few nights later, as you sit with megumi while he colours at the kitchen table, he proudly holds up a drawing.

“look, mom! it’s our family.”

you take the paper from him, your heart twisting as you look at it. he’s drawn the three of you—you, him, and toji. all of you are holding hands, smiling. your throat tightens, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say.

“it’s beautiful, gumi,” you whisper, forcing a smile as you blink back tears. he’s so proud of it, so innocent, completely unaware of the reality that you and toji are no longer a family. not in the way he imagines.

he beams at your praise, and you hang the drawing on the fridge, but as you do, the ache in your chest deepens. megumi’s world is still so simple, so full of hope. you wish you could keep it that way forever. but deep down, you know that soon enough, the cracks in the illusion will start to show. and when they do, you’ll have to face them together.