#I’ve been wanting to make one and haven’t gotten around to it

[javierduffy]

DO IT. WRITE THE JOHN X KIERAN FIC AND I WILL READ IT TRUST

ALSO HAPPY NEW YEAR

happy new year to you as well :] !!! i hope it’s filled with fun and love and light !!!!!!!

WAUGH THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT 💔💔 now idk about a full fic but uuhhmmm i can offer you some silly doodles ? hopefully i’ll have the energy to draw/write them for real soon 😭

and of course the 3rd boyfriend

[fleetways]

Do you have, werehog Sonic / Shadow fanfic recs? 👁️👁️✨?

Yeah i got one called “Monsters Don’t Live Happily Ever After” its pretty cool

But in all honesty though, I’ve gotten asks about fic recs before and have been hesitant to answer bc…I haven’t actually read that much sonadow fanfiction 😭 I’m sorry!

[aeyumicore]

green-eyed and creampied

just the, now, FIVE love and deepspace men being possessive and jealous!

━ ✧.˖ PAIRING: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel, caleb (separate) x female reader (afab)

━ .ᐟ✧ GENRE: smut, porn with little to no plot

━ ✧.˖ TOTAL WORD COUNT: 6.1k

━ .ᐟ✧ GENERAL CONTENT WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, jealous behavior, possessive behavior, LOTS of filthy dirty talk, sub!reader, dom!sylus, dom!zayne, dom!xavier, dom!rafayel, don!caleb, pet names, unprotected sex, never pulling out, banter, individual content warnings below with their respective fics

━ ✧.˖ LINKS: ao3

━ .ᐟ✧ A/N: haiiii guys it’s been a while since i wrote for all the guys. now FIVEEEEE guys, call it a burger joint.. .. sorry this is a day late. i know i’ve done a jealous fic before but i wanted to kinda do it again when they’re not drunk + include caleb.

caleb will still get his jealous and drunk fic tho! i’m also working on some stuff for caleb still. if ur a caleb girly u will eat

enjoy friends <3

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

sylus 秦彻

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 1,213

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, slight voyeurism, mentions of xavier, mating press, sylus on top, furniture breaks, lots of loud sex, sylus makes reader scream, praising

In the time you’d known Sylus, you’ve had to replace your mattress frame exactly three times.

It had gotten to the point where you refused to let him stay over. Not that that mattered, as you found yourself staying at his base—his home—far more than your own. 

But for whatever reason, Sylus had asked to stay at your apartment tonight—insisting that the base was unsuitable to sleep at tonight. Some unconvincing excuse about renovations. You were suspicious, but he wore you down.

And so you found yourself being absolutely fucked into your mattress, thinking about how you’d need to buy yet another frame tomorrow, when this one inevitably shattered. 

“Syluus,” you moan breathlessly, “S-Slow—mmngh—slow down. Bed’s going to break.” You wince when you hear it creak, knocking against your bedroom wall. 

“You don’t want that, dove,” Sylus purrs, “She doesn’t want that.” He rolls his hips harder, squeezing the plush of your ass so hard that he leaves indents in the shape of his fingers. 

“You know I can’t deny her, not when she wraps around me so fucking perfectly,” he groans, hiking your thigh up against his hip so he can angle deeper. 

“You’re impossible. W-What’s gotten into you?” you force the words out, your nails clawing into the thick ropes of muscles of his shoulders, whimpering when he purposely drags his pelvis against your clit. 

Sylus kisses your forehead, the tender gesture nearly enough to make you forget that he was knee deep in your guts trying to imprint his name into you. 

“I haven’t seen you in a week. You’ve been so busy saving the world from Wanderers,” Sylus says simply, his voice calm and steady as if he wasn’t buried inside of you. 

Your lips curl, and you tease, “You missed me?”

Sylus scoffs, his rhythm slowing for a brief moment, “Yes, terribly so. I’m not afraid to admit that.”

Your heart skips a beat, looking away shyly. But Sylus brings your face back to his, his grip on your chin gentle. 

“What, getting shy on me now, little bird?” Sylus chuckles, almost condescendingly. 

”That partner of yours gets to see this beautiful face more than I do. Don’t look away,” Sylus murmurs, eyes trained on your lips. He drags his pelvis intentionally along you, the coarse hair along the base of his cock working literal magic against your sensitive bud.

It’s not enough for you to miss the whiny undertone in his words though. 

“You mean Xavier?” 

Sylus’s pace falters, but he smirks still, raising an eyebrow at you, “Tch, you should only be thinking of me right now.”

”Y-You’re the one who—o-oh god—brought him up!” you say incredulously, finding the strength to gently smack his solid marbled chest. He catches your wrist before you can make content, bringing your fingertips up to his lips.

He nips at your hand in warning, his pace growing more forceful, as if telling you to watch yourself. His increased vigor makes your bed knock more violently against the wall, your eyes widening in fear.

”Sy, the neighbors are going to hear,” you whisper, knowing he wont listen to you anyway. He’d been forever trying to convince you to move in with him anyways. 

“Hm, right. They will.”

You’re about to question his cryptic words when Sylus hoists your legs up, folding you in half. At this angle, he can quite literally hammer into you with an entirely renewed enthusiasm, reaching parts of you that he knew were your absolute weaknesses.

Your eyes roll back with a pleasured squeal, crying his name repeatedly.

Sylus smirks, praising you, your own name sounding like honey as it dripped off his tongue.

“That’s it, my love,” he coos, “Think you can get louder for me?”

You physically can’t respond, eyes squeezed shut as Sylus drives into your g-spot repeatedly and unrelentingly. He’s big enough where the head of his cock brushes against your cervix, a pleasure mixed with just the slightest pain that makes you delirious. 

“Sy-lus,” you moan brokenly, unable to stop from practically screaming, “So deep—can’t…”

”You’re doing perfect,” he praises, whispering your name in a way that makes your stomach coil tightly, on the verge of exploding. 

“Sh-shit. All you have to do is focus on screaming my name, hm? I’ll take care of the rest.”

You whine at the thought of your neighbors hearing you, knowing first hand just how thin the walls were. Biting the inside of your cheek, you do your best to keep your sounds down.

And of course Sylus notices instantly. But instead of scolding you, he only fucks you harder–physically pulling the sounds out of you. The screams of ecstasy that he wants.

Screams that would undoubtedly be heard across the walls. And the ceiling,

“Just like that,” Sylus grunts, his crimson eyes nearly glowing with approval, “Think he can hear you, sweetheart?”

Your eyes, previously screwed shut in sheer pleasure, fly open as you register the implication of his words—his actions.

Sylus seems to anticipate your reaction, simultaneously bringing his lips over your nipple and his thumb to your clit—rendering you a wordless, squealing mess. 

You can’t see the way Sylus smirks against your breast with a dangerous satisfaction, his ruby eyes glowing with adoration and possession. 

“He might get to see you every day, but I’m the only one who gets to see you like this. So drunk off my cock that you can’t even open your eyes.”

His thumb moves faster, in perfect tandem with his claiming thrusts.

”He might get to hear them, but these screams are for me, and only me. Right, my love?”

You find yourself nodding obediently, willing to do anything to get him to shut up and give you the orgasm he’s holding just out of your reach. 

”Syluuus,” you plead shamelessly, words slurring, “F-Feels s’goood. Please!” Any attempt at being quiet had long been abandoned, your brain clouded only with thoughts of Sylus and the filthy mating press he had you folded into.

Sylus was a man of fierce passion, but this was entirely different. His beautiful eyes held a swirl of dangerous emotions, nearly as intense as the vigor in which his body pounding down into yours. Your nearing climax rings in your ears, blocking out the sounds of your mattress frame snapping, his thrusts masking the feeling of the wood smashing into the ground. 

He revels in your cries of pure ecstasy, satisfaction blooming in his chest as you grow louder with every thrust towards your release. Sylus’s vermillion eyes flicker to the ceiling of the bedroom, intrusive thoughts clouding his own building pleasure.

It’d be easier if he lived next to you as opposed to the unit atop yours.

With his lips at your neck, his thick body presses down onto you, angling himself deeper. As he brings your body to unprecedented heights, he whispers into the shell of your ear, voice husky and rough. 

”Can feel how close you are” he groans, your cunt attempting to wring his cock absolutely dry, “Want him to hear you cum for me?”

You whine, weakly shaking your head ‘no.’ Sylus only grins, his hips snapping into the plush of your thighs. 

”That’s too bad, kitten. Your dear partner is going to have to hear it anyway.”

xavier 沈星回

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 1,165

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, dark!xavier, mentions of sylus, standing sex, mentions of voyeurism, mentions of cum marking, hitting it from the back, sex against the window, slight choking

“You’ve been at the N109 Zone a lot this week.”

You can hardly comprehend Xavier’s words over the sheer intensity at which he’s driving himself into you, as if trying to carve you perfectly into the shape of him.

“Wh-What?” you pant, your voice pathetically shaky as your palms desperately steady yourself against the window he has you pressed against. 

The city lights twinkle beneath you, and you find yourself grateful that you’re more than ten floors up. Because the way Xavier had your naked body pressed into the cool glass pane, his chin digging into your shoulder as his hips snapped harshly into your ass?

If you were on a lower floor, anyone outside would undoubtedly see everything. 

But you’re starting to think that’s exactly what he wants. 

“The N109 Zone. You’ve been there almost every day this last week,” Xavier says, his words simple but his tone almost threatening. Not enough to scare you, but just enough to have your toes curling in excitement. 

“And?” is all you manage, your back arching against his abdomen when he presses you deeper into the window. In response, Xavier’s thrusts slow to a near stop, his hand gently wrapping around the base of your throat. You whine in protest, desperately rolling your own hips backward against him, chasing the pleasure 

His tender fingers stroke the sides of your neck, so softly and adoringly. It gives you whiplash when you see how dark his eyes have gotten, almost sinister. 

Gripping you gently, he pulls you toward him by your neck until your head rests on his shoulder and you can really see the intensity of his shadowy azure eyes.

“Have you been working with the Onichynus leader?” he asks, his thrusts unbearably slow and shallow. 

“Sylus?”

At that, Xavier snaps, his grip tightening and his pace quickening. Except it’s much more violent this time around–enough to have your body pounding into the glass and your head swimming with delirious ecstasy. 

The sound of another man’s name on your tongue while his cock was nestled against your g-spot? That fueled Xavier with a jealousy that bordered on insanity. 

“You did that on purpose,” he grunts unhappily against your ear. It’s nearly impossible to hear him over the sound of his pelvis pounding into your ass, the wet slaps resounding throughout the room. 

“Mnngh…W-What did I do?” you ask, struggling to speak.

Xavier’s breath is heavy against your shoulder, his fingers abandoning your neck and instead cupping your jaw, turning your face towards him, so he can really look at you.

Wordlessly, he pulls your face to his, taking your lips into his–bruisingly and possessively. As his tongue claims every inch of your mouth, his cock does the same, filling you out so completely that you find it difficult to breathe. 

“Do I need to be rougher?” Xavier grunts as he reluctantly pulls away from you, his lips shiny and cheeks flushed red. You squeak when his hand roughly cups your breast, kneading just how he knew you liked, but just a tad bit harder to make you scream.

“Do I need to remind you just how much you need me?”

He punctuates his words with a pointed thrust, his cockhead stroking roughly against your most sensitive spots. 

“How much you need this?”

The intensity and passion in which Xavier takes you against the window is enough to render you a wordless, moaning mess. The glass is nice and cool against your burning skin, fogging up as Xavier presses you deeper into it.

He maneuvers your chin so that you’re facing the reflection again. He kisses your shoulder, deceptively tender, as he murmurs your name. The push and pull between tenderness and roughness confuses your brain, only making your body more receptive, more pliant, to him. 

“Oh god—Xavier!” you moan unabashedly, your forehead falling forward to lean against the window. Xavier smiles, thoroughly pleased at the sound of his name leaving your beautiful lips. 

But he was a greedy man and he wanted more. 

“Look at me,” he commands gently, saying your name with so much conviction and possession that you're wracked with a violent shiver. He tilts your chin up again, so that you come face to face with him in the reflection, the city lights outside blurring. His fingers are soft against your skin, his grip demanding.

Xavier’s glassy cerulean eyes bore into yours through the reflection, misted with a dark and raw possession that you’d been seeing more and more of lately as Xavier opened his heart to you. A look that made your instincts tingle with the need to escape. 

And yet your body only tightens with excitement, sucking Xavier further into you, wanting him harder–deeper.

But it’s still so effortlessly Xavier–pure and soft. It made your heart clench with adoration while your core tightened with desperation. 

His intense eyes burn into your naked form, fingers forcing you to watch him, as he speaks again, “The next time you go to the N109 Zone, I’m coming too.”

You’re about to protest but Xavier cuts you off, “I know you’re perfectly capable. That’s not why.” His words come out shaky and soft as you get painfully tighter, inexplicably turned on by his possessive nature. 

“If you’re going to be walking around the N109 zone with him, you’re going to do it with my cum dripping down your thighs.”

You gasp, your stomach tightening at his filthy–completely serious–words. Xavier smiles into the mirrored window that’s now fogging up with your combined torrid breaths. 

“Do you like the sound of that? It feels like you do, angel.”

Xavier glances at you again, looking absolutely ethereal with the city lights twinkling behind his reflection. But he’s starting to look just as disheveled as you, his blonde hair strewn messily, his pale cheeks dusted pink, beads of sweat trailing down his muscles. 

As you get distracted in the way his burning cock literally reshapes your gummy walls around him, Xavier grabs a gentle fistful of your hair, forcing you to level with him. 

“Tell me you want it, please.”

His commanding words are tinged with just an inkling of insecurity, his blue eyes nearly begging with yours through the damp glass. 

You push yourself off the glass, leaning back against him, knees buckling when he gets deeper. 

Xavier wraps a secure arm around your chest, holding you effortlessly in place. In this position, he buries his face into your shoulder, his eyes still peeking over, trained on you. 

Laying your head back against him, you cradle the back of his head with your hand. Maintaining eye contact, you somehow find the coherence to appease him, knowing he’d go insane without your reassurance, no matter how ridiculous what he was asking was.

“W-Wan’ it Xav,” you moan through the force of his thrusts, “Anything you give me, anything you want. 

Xavier noticeably falters, his breaths becoming alarmingly ragged, azure eyes darkening to a deep navy instead.

“Then, let’s start right now.”

zayne 黎深

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 1,120

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, marking + hickeys, improper evol use, dry humping, mentions of caleb, zayne on top, praising

Zayne wasn’t a jealous man.

At least that’s what you’d thought—what he’d made you and everyone who knew him believe. 

He was wildly successful in his career, self-assured in himself, and secure in your relationship. 

And yet, the way he was sucking bruises into every inch of your burning skin, with the clear intent to mark and claim–where everyone could see, said otherwise. 

“Zayne—!” you cry out as he bites a particularly mind-numbing hickey into your collar, his skilled tongue soothing the sensitive skin as his teeth graze against the forming bruise. 

“Hm?” is all he murmurs. But he doesn’t let you continue or clarify, because the next thing you know, he’s rolling his bare erection against your moist slit, purposely letting his own leaking tip rub against your throbbing bundle of nerves. 

With your eyes squeezed shut in burning anticipation, you can’t see him, but you can hear the faint smirk in his voice. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” his lips are suddenly at the skin under your ear, pressing soft kisses into the spot he plans to mark you next. 

“You know what,” you whine, “Not so high up.” Even you can hear how half-hearted your plea is. You loved the rare occasion Zayne made it known exactly what he did to his favorite hunter, his most crucial patient, behind closed doors. 

But you’d gotten so familiar with Zayne’s straight-edged professionalism that you were used to him leaving signs of himself on your body that only you’d be able to see. Areas that only the two of you would know he’d been. Where his lips had been. 

“And why is that?” he chuckles, letting his lips ghost along your pulse, as if warning you what was to come if you didn’t plead your case. 

You gasp when he grabs the base of his cock, purposely letting himself brush against your soaked entrance, but not letting himself enter–much to your dismay.

“H-Have to go to—ngh—go to Skyhaven tomorrow,” you whimper, “Meeting with Caleb and the F-Fleet to discuss Wanderer activity.” 

Zayne pauses at your words, his entire body tensing ever so slightly as he presses himself forcefully into you, his muscles twitching against you.  

Ah. 

He collects himself instantly, his teeth nipping at your pulse in warning. 

“Oh?” he says, as if he didn’t already know you’d be seeing Caleb tomorrow, likely having gotten your mission schedule from the Association. Doctors often had access to the files of all Hunters that were under their care.

“Even more reason to send you off with a few gifts for the Colonel.”

If his jealous possession didn’t turn you on so damn thoroughly you might’ve rolled your eyes and teased him. Tease him that he’d said the childhood rivalry between him and Caleb was one-sided. That he’d said he was above that petty jealousy. 

But with Zayne’s cock wedged so tortuously between your legs, a burning path of love bites trailing from your neck to your breasts, his warm breath at your ear–you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but moan for more. 

“You sound beautiful,” Zayne whispers thickly into your ear, before his lips descend and latch onto the soft skin above your nipple, “So perfect like this. Spread out for me, begging for more.”

He pulls away, a string of saliva connecting from his lips to your heaving chest, his mouth pulling into a faint smirk at the pretty little marks he’s left all over your soft skin. The sense of satisfaction he feels from watching your quivering form, chanting his name like a prayer. The satisfaction he got from knowing that he’d be the only one to see you like this, feel you like this. Now and forever. 

The satisfaction from knowing that anyone who saw you would see exactly how thoroughly you belonged to him.

He shifts to give himself better access to you. To the spot between your legs that was reserved only for him.

Zayne positions himself, his tip at your aching entrance, his body coming down to hover over you, his face inches from yours. His eyes bore into yours, the gold flecks shining as he takes in your flushed features. His magnificent woman.

His fingers trace your jaw, carving an icy path down every beautiful mark, every searing claim. You yelp at the feeling of his Evol laced fingertips, body arching at the hypersensitivity of his frosty digits. But Zayne only presses you back down into the mattress.

“Tell me, love,” he whispers, his voice husky and gravelly with need, “Who’s the only one who gets to see you like this?”

Feeling rebellious, you refuse, “I’m not feeding into this ridiculous del–” You’re cut off by your own scream as Zayne’s fingertips close over your nipple, using his Evol to make his skin colder than it normally was. He repeats his demand, saying your name so tenderly–a stark contrast to his unforgiving touch that your body yearned for.

“Tell me.”

“Y-You!” you squeal as Zayne rolls your sensitive tip in his skillful torturous fingers. 

“Who’s the only one who gets to hear you make these perfect little noises?” This time he punctuates his question by bringing his frozen fingers to your clit, pressing down, simultaneously holding your body down as it arches.

“Anngh–you. Only you! P-Please–!” you beg, not able to take the hypersensitivity, but not wanting him to pull away. 

“So good for me,” Zayne murmurs, pressing his cock into you, just barely stretching you out, “And only me, right beautiful?”

Your eyes widen at the feeling of just his thick tip inside you. Your body arches, trying to receive more of him. He gently pushes you back down, his palm flat against your stomach. 

You whine at his blatant denial, using your legs to try to trap his body against yours, pulling him closer so he had no choice but to push deeper.

“Oh g-god, yes!”

But Zayne remains steadfast, his strong muscled body unmoving. Instead, he gently grips your chin, bringing your eyes up to his.

“Say my name.”

Zayne thrusts shallowly, forcefully pulling the words from your lips and making you spill exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Nnngh–only yours, Zayne!” His name rolls off your tongue like music, earning you a low growl of approval from the man just barely inside you. 

As if to reward you, he pushes himself fully inside of you, all the way to the hilt. He falls onto his elbows, rolling his hips with a passionate intensity that has you calling his name–over and over. With a torrid groan of your name, he desperately presses another blossoming bruise into your pulse. Right where everyone could see it.

“That’s right sweetheart. And everyone will know it.”

rafayel 祁煜

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 1,190

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, marking, spanking, kinda mentions of voyerism, raf on top but from the back, messy make out

You were a relatively flexible person.

By no means did you have the range of a gymnast or a professional dancer, but all things considered, you were decently limber for the average woman—dabbling in the occasional yoga and pilates. 

But that did little to prepare you for the arch Rafayel was forcing you into, his hand gently gripping your hair for leverage, the other pushing you down lower. 

He’d purposely put his massive ornate gold-rimmed mirror in front of his bed, forcing you to watch as he mounted you savagely from behind, his hips desperate to paint pretty flowering bruises into the plush of your ass.

Rafayel normally punished you with the silent treatment, or overt sass. But now?

He was punishing you with his insatiable body.

“You better not do that again,” the purple-haired artist groans from behind you, his voice much more demanding than you normally ever heard from him. His hips snap into you, your combined arousal dripping down the back of your thighs.

You can only moan back, every nerve end in your body burning with the pleasure delivered from Rafayel’s thick length inside of you, rendering you unable to think or speak clearly. 

Unsatisfied with your lack of response, Rafayel tugs gently at your hair, forcing you to level with him in the reflection in the mirror. He looks devastatingly handsome, his purple wavy hair tousled, like he’d run his hair through it several times. His soft, blemish free, skin a beautiful shade of coral. The sapphire in his eyes eclipses the soft pinkish corals, as he gives into primitive instinct, making them nearly entirely blue.

“Tell me you won’t do that again.”

You whine, even in your cock-drunk state, you know exactly what he wants you to say. 

Rafayel was just wrapping up a guest lecture circuit for the local universities, particularly their fine arts departments. He’d asked you to be his “assistant” to the last one, claiming he needed his precious bodyguard there if any of the students tried to kidnap him for ransom. 

During a portrait exploration exercise, a student had asked you to model for his sketch. It seemed innocent enough, and you didn’t want to make Rafayel look bad by denying a student’s genuine request–being his guest on campus.

And apparently Rafayel did not like that.

“Raf–!” you rasp, doing your best to speak through the torrent of passionate thrusts, your broken voice barely audible over the lewd sounds of his skin slapping against yours. 

“S-Slow down,” you whimper, unable to speak coherently, answer his demand, if he was fucking you this passionately. 

“That’s not what I asked for, pretty girl,” Rafayel murmurs, his own voice nearly broken over how perfect your gummy walls convulse around him. 

You squeal when he presses his palm harder down on the small over your back, making your ass arch even higher for him.

“You’re in no position to be making demands,” he pants, the hand in your hair abandoning your head to grab a fistful of your soft ass. He kneads it tenderly, eliciting a cry of pleasure from you, before releasing it.

Thwack!

Your eyes widen, a squeal erupting from your lips as Rafayel’s hand comes down to meet your rear in a harsh spank. 

“Come on, baby,” he groans your name, halfway between a growl and a whine. 

“W-Was jus’ a portrait sketch,” you reason, catching his heated gaze in the mirror. His perfectly arched eyebrow raises at you.

“You think I care?” Rafayel mutters, smacking your ass again, only this time it’s softer. Not punishing, but rather claiming. With the sole intent to mark you up. His.

“Unngh–you asked me t’come!” you slur, your entire body jolting with the force of his body pounding against yours.

“Yeah, to be my pretty little TA,” Rafayel protests, “Not someone else’s fucking inspiration!”

He slumps over you, forcing you deeper, his chest lightly pressed against your upper back, his lips pressed into your shoulder, nipping gently.

“Ngh–knew I should’ve kept you under my podium,” he grumbles, only half joking. 

You give him a pointed look in the mirror, your face covered in sweaty strands of hair. Rafayel props himself above you with one arm, the other tenderly sweeping your hair out of your face. So he can see you properly. 

You were his. Only his.  

Even if it was just some unsuspecting university student. 

Rafayel grabs your chin, turning your face so he can kiss you. You crane your neck towards him, letting him capture your lips aggressively, possessively. 

It’s anything but a gentle tender kiss, but rather a dark claiming one. One where his tongue explores every inch of you, his teeth nipping your lips, swallowing your exquisite cries of pleasure. 

When he pulls away, a string of saliva connects you to him. His fingers still gripping your chin, he turns you back to the mirror. 

“You’re my muse. No one else gets to use you, innocent sketch or not.”

You nod submissively, inexplicably turned on by his jealous and possessive demeanor. Rafayel smiles at you through the reflection, a heated promise in his bi-colored eyes.

“Fuck—just like that, need to memorize every inch of you like this,” he moans, stroking your hair unbearably gently. As if he wasn’t rutting into you so viciously that his entire bed shook, the expensive wood legs of the frame scraping against the silk rug. 

“You—mmmf—always say that,” you tease him, “Surprised you haven’t—ngh—haven’t created an entire map yet.”

Rafayel gives you an unamused look, his bottom lip jutting out in that adorable Rafayel grimace.

”A map? No,” he lowers himself back to your shoulder, letting his warm breath tickle your neck. He leans his head against yours, his hips rolling like the tides of the ocean. Except maybe during a tsunami. 

He laughs when you nearly collapse, his angry tip hitting your g-spot. He catches you, hooking his arm under your stomach before you can lose that beautiful arch. 

“Raf—!” you moan, “Can’t…Can’t take much more.”

“Easy, cutie,” he kisses your ear, slowing his movements much to your dismay. It stifles your impending orgasm, making you whine in frustration. 

“D-Don’t tease Rafayel!”

He lets out a breathy laugh, giving you a single languid thrust before slowing again. 

“Well I can’t have you tapping out juuuust yet,” he smiles into your neck, taking a deep inhale of your pheromones, the left side of his chest burns as your scent clouds his brain. 

“I need more time, if I’m going to commit this image to memory,” he whispers predatorily into your ear, directing your face back to the massive mirror. The image reflected is so unbearably lewd.

Rafayel’s muscles ripple as he quite literally mounts you. You look so filthily undone beneath him, your skin flushed and shining with sweat, lips swollen and slick.

”Going to make a mural of you, exactly like this,” Rafayel grins wickedly, delighted by the way your eyes widen with horror, before rolling back into themselves. “Cheeks flushed, perfect ass up, hair disheveled…All for me.”

He gives you another gentle spank, your poor cheek reddened and marked.

“Think that will inspire him?”

caleb 夏以昼

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 1,417

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, slight improper evol use, mentions of zayne, against the wall sex, kinda leash use, caleb puts his dogtag in reader’s mouth, hickeys, brat taming

Against the setting sun, Caleb’s silver dog tag casts dancing flashes of light on the wall of his bedroom. Sunsets in Skyhaven have always been so much more magnificent. The floor to ceiling windows allow the waning sun to paint the entire room in a brilliant orange glow, the light bouncing off the necklace he never took off. 

The necklace that was now swinging wildly against your own naked chest with the force of Caleb’s desperate, forceful movements. 

”C-Caleb, o-oh god,” you cry, nails digging painfully into him, an angry trail of red welts already littering his muscled back. He hisses at the sting, but it only makes him more feral, his pelvis slamming so violently into yours that the wall behind you nearly tremors with his raw strength.

“Yeah? Finally being sensible, princess? Ready to be a good girl for me?” Caleb grins, his words lacking any real bite, balancing you in one hand as he moves your hair to one shoulder.

You whine in indignation, knowing exactly what brought about his sudden attitude. 

A certain raven haired surgeon you both knew all too well. 

It would be adorable if it wasn’t making him so damn animalistic right now. But who were you kidding—you loved it. Loved him like this. 

“Y-You were in important Fleet briefings all day,” you pant through the moans, his cock spearing up into you as he holds you firmly to the wall. 

He presses ravenous kisses to your jaw, his fist balling as it propped himself against the wall. “And? All you have to do is ask and I’ll have someone stand in for me.”

“You’re the Colonel–mmngh–you can’t just drop your duties every time I n-need someone to pick me up!”

“Fuck– so damn tight,” Caleb groans, leaning his forehead against yours as he ruts into you savagely, “and who says I can’t?”

There’s a childish and challenging lilt to his gravelly voice, squeezing your ass with his right hand, leaving flourishing bruises behind. If that arm couldn’t feel you, it’d sure as hell leave reminders he was there. 

Your eyes roll back, from the pleasure or Caleb’s ridiculousness, you’re unsure.

“It was right next to the hospital,” you whine, squealing when Caleb takes your nipple into his mouth, rolling it gently between his teeth, “Mmngh–Zayne was a-already there!”

Caleb’s rhythm doesn’t falter for a second at the sound of that name rolling off your tongue. In fact, it seems to only make him more determined. More feral.

He holds your jaw in his fingers, his violet eyes glowing with a cautionary sparkle. The cool metal of his dog tag rattles against your bodies, pressed together and slick with sweat.

“I would’ve been there too. If you called me,” he murmurs petulantly, his face transforming into that classic wet-puppy face that Caleb so expertly used to get his way with you. 

But the contrast of his adorable face to his downright filthy thrusts helps you stay clear-minded against his charms. Well, as clear-minded as you could be when he was being like this.

“Caleb, you’re being unrea—oh god!” you whimper, his fingers meanly pinching your clit, purposely trying to make you lose your train of thought, “U-Unreasonable!”

He pulls your chin to him, enveloping you in a feverish kiss, no doubt trying to get you to give in to his jealous little whims. When he pulls away, he tilts your chin up to look into the burning galaxy in his irises. 

“You’re my girl. Call me next time, okay baby?” His tone, commanding–nearly a growl, betrays his deceptively sweet words. 

You continue trying to reason with him, clawing desperately at the thick ropes of muscles in his back, “You w-were in Skyhaven! Would’ve been—angghh—been waiting for hours!”

Caleb presses warning kisses into your neck, his teeth nipping hard enough to leave marks. He takes one of your hands into his, intertwining your fingers slowly. 

”Personal aircraft. Did you forget? Even after you rode me that one t–”

You whine in embarrassment, cutting him off with a poignant roll of your hips, “Ngh–Caleb! Y-You can't possibly fly a whole ass plane to Linkon every time Zayne tries to–” 

Caleb interrupts your words with a growl, hips slowing down tortuously. His fingers wrap gently around your neck, his head tilted as he stares down at you. 

“Really? You’re going to keep saying his name when you’re crying out for me? For this?”

To punctuate his lightly veiled threat, he ruts particularly viciously, your entire body sliding up the wall. He presses against you so tightly that you shudder, the cool metal of his necklace like ice against your singed skin. His hand brushes along your naval, where he can feel his cock hammering in and out. He presses down, eliciting a beautiful scream from you.

“God, you’re such a brat today,” he growls heatedly in your ear, his hand abandoning your stomach, threading with your fingers again. He raises your joined palms above your head, pushing them into the wall, giving him a bit more leverage as he tries to use his cock to make you forget anyone’s name but his.

Particularly that of your beloved doctor. 

“I’m the brat?!” you say incredulously. He cuts you off, hammering until you can nearly feel him in your throat, but you don’t stop, “Y-You’re the brat! Still letting Zayne get under y–mmmf!”

Irritated at your unending talk of Zayne, his dog tag still swinging annoyingly with the force of his thrusts, Caleb cuts you off again. Using one hand to balance you, his free fingers place the tag of his bouncing silver necklace in between your lips. The cool metal brushes against your tongue and you whine as he squeezes your jaw, making it difficult to release it. 

“Only name I want to hear from you is mine,” he murmurs, voice deceptively soft. He smirks when your eyes roll back, his tag still between your pouty lips. Something about the sight of you, his claim in your mouth, your eyes nearly white with the sheer force of pleasure only he can give you? It sends him dangerously close to losing all control.

Caleb’s fist slams into the wall next to your head, gasping out a string of expletives, his hips stuttering with the overwhelming emotions he feels when he looks at you. Taking a deep breath, he tries to collect himself, not quite ready to give you your release. His fist softens, stroking the chain of the necklace as it dangles from your mouth toward his chest. 

“You gonna be good?” he coos your name, his smooth, heated voice doing little to betray how dangerously close he is to coming undone into your impossibly tight heat.

You give him a rebellious glare, your eyes saying no. You were this close to being cock drunk and giving in to enabling his possessive behavior, but you did your damned best to hold onto your pride.

Caleb chuckles darkly, freeing your chin which lets you drop the metal tag from between your teeth. He catches it in his fingertips, stroking the damp steel, his wordlessness feeling almost sinister.

You yelp when your neck is yanked towards him, close enough that you can feel his threatening breath against your lips, a dangerous glint in his eyebrow-shadowed eyes.

At first you think it’s his Evol, both his hands still occupied–one gripping the dog tag and the other gripping your ass. But at the slight sting at your nape, you realize you’d completely missed him slipping the gifted necklace over your neck. That he probably with his Evol.

And now he was using it like a leash, pulling you toward him like he owned you. 

You gasp when he tilts his head, still gripping the necklace gently, your back slamming into the wall as he fucked into you with renewed vigor. He inhales your choked breath as his own, wanting to consume you entirely. 

With his Evol, he holds you flush against the wall, using one hand to guide you with the pull of the silver jewelry, the other cupping your cheek, thumb stroking your jaw. 

“I hope you don’t have any more plans this weekend. Especially not with Zayne.”

His hand slides from your jaw to your neck again, squeezing in a way that has not only your throat constricting but also your cunt, in pure thrill.

“We’re going to be here until the only name you remember is mine. Now be a good girl and be quiet, yeah?”

© aeyumicore 2025.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[deadpoetsandlivinglegends]

Some no pressure tags: @yawping-poets-society @rywritess @make-much-of-time idk I can’t think of any mutuals off the top of my head that I didn’t see above already, so like anyone I’m forgetting, very fond of you I promise I’m just having a lapse of memory rn, of course feel free to join in, open tags

I feel like making one of those uquiz and picrew chains with these random ones I found sooo

Take this quiz and find out what instrument you are and thennnn

make a lil guy with this picrew :))))

(As a viola player I’m VERY offended. So offended, offended beyond belief. But hey kitty :)) )

@ilivebyshipping @glassesgirlies @lusxnei6

[helaintoloki]

Hey there! I’ve got a little request for you.

What about a fic where the reader has to go back in time to the 40s (perhaps for an infinity stone? Work it however you want). It’s supposed to be a quick mission. Until they run into a young Bucky.

a/n: hi anon! i hope you don’t mind but i made some tweaks to the request to fit the story i came up with. however, the original idea of reader going to the 40s is still there!

warnings/notes: angst, fluff, sort of an enemies to lovers piece

summary: after accidentally sending yourself back in time, you run into a younger version of the man you loathe only to find yourself questioning your feelings for him

“You’re such a jerk!”

“Oh, so saving your ass makes me a jerk now?” Bucky retorts in annoyed disbelief at your insult. The two of you haven’t exactly been getting along as of late, so it wasn’t a surprise to either of you that your first assignment together was proving to be disastrous.

“Saving me?” You repeat incredulously, halting in your steps to whirl around and angrily point a finger against his chest. The firmness of his muscles has you faltering for a split second, but you’re adamant not to let your stupid little school girl crush on the man stop you from tearing into him.

Sometimes you’re not even sure why you have feelings for someone who constantly pushes your buttons and tests your patience, but it’s hard not to fall for his good looks and charm, especially during the rare moments of pleasantness you experience when he’s not getting on your nerves. You and Bucky rarely see eye-to-eye, and though for the most part you can tolerate each other, your camaraderie doesn’t last long.

“Shoving me out of the way when I had a clear shot isn’t saving me! I had it covered before you decided to play hero and treat me like some damsel in distress!”

“You had a clear shot and so did the sniper sitting on that rooftop,” Bucky points out with an irritated tick of his jaw. “You couldn’t have gotten the hit with a bullet hole in your head.”

You falter momentarily at being presented with your error, face beginning to heat with embarrassment at being in the wrong. However, your stubborn nature takes over and causes you to double down on your anger instead of admitting fault.

“I don’t need your help. In fact, because of your little stunt my inhibitor is broken,” you state indignantly while lifting your wrist to show the damaged metal band, “so now I have no way to safely get us home.”

Bucky blanches at the realization, and now it’s his turn to feel hot with embarrassment and guilt for his mistake. You’re one of the enhanced members on the team, an Avenger with the power to teleport not only from place to place but also through time, but your ability isn’t always the most reliable. It can be unstable when used too often or without proper concentration, which is why Tony had crafted your inhibitor bracelet to ensure you didn’t accidentally teleport yourself or your teammates to the middle of nowhere. You didn’t trust yourself to make the jump back to the compound without it, and now the two of you were stranded.

He curses under his breath and runs an anxious hand through his hair before saying, “We’ll have to call for someone to come get us.”

“No shit,” you retort only to earn an eye roll from him in response. “But that’s going to take hours, and if we stay here we’re dead.”

“Look,” Bucky sighs depreciatively, “we need to figure this out together, so I’d appreciate a little less sarcasm and a little more-“

The sound of gunfire interrupts Bucky’s rant and sends you both ducking for cover. Your arguing had allowed enough time for the enemy to counterattack with an ambush, and now you were cornered with nowhere to go. You find yourself pressed against a metal crate, making yourself as small as possible while trying to form some sort of an exit plan. Your attackers were closing in, and you felt the anxiety beginning to rise in your chest at the fact that you had nowhere left to run.

Bucky calls your name frantically, breaking you out of your panicked daze quickly enough for you to register the woman approaching you with her gun raised. Your eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights, and when she pulls the trigger you feel your powers activate on instinct as you’re teleported out of the line of fire.

You land on the ground with a groan.

Tingles run down your body from the use of your powers, and it takes you a moment to adjust to the new surroundings you find yourself in. The packing warehouse you’d been dodging gunfire fire in is long gone, and instead you find yourself in an alleyway nestled between two apartment buildings. Your mind is frantic as you try to scramble back up onto your feet only to crumple down in pain from your fall. You think you’ve twisted your ankle, and you don’t know where you are or how to get back home.

You attempt to use your powers to jump back to the warehouse to help Bucky, but without the inhibitor bracelet your teleportation has become shoddy. You let your head fall back with a frustrated groan at being completely helpless and try to clear your mind to figure out your next move.

“Excuse me,” an oddly familiar voice calls from the other end of the alleyway, “are you alright, miss?”

You lift your head at the sound of approaching footsteps and are met with a set of kind blue eyes that have your breath catching in your throat. His face is so much younger and full of life, not yet tainted by the trauma he’d endured after the events of the war. He’s beautiful, and you find your heart nearly leaping out of your chest when he makes his way towards you. He reaches out to you with his left hand, and you stare down with uncertainty at the warm flesh that replaces metal.

You’d accidentally sent yourself back in time, and now you found yourself face to face with a Bucky who had yet to become the Winter Soldier.

“I… I’m fine,” you finally manage to get out after willing away your initial shock. You hesitantly accept his hand and are unnerved by the unusual warmth his palm emits against your own. He helps you back onto your feet only for you to stumble as a result of your bad ankle. His strong arms catch you in an instant, holding you upright while you brace yourself against his firm chest.

“Looks like you had quite the fall,” Bucky says with a lighthearted smile while meeting your gaze. You see something shift in his features when he looks into your eyes, an awestruck sense of admiration washing over him as he takes in your disheveled appearance. You begin to fear that he has you figured out, that somehow he knows who you are and that you don’t belong, but instead he merely wipes away a smudge of dirt from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“You’re a knockout,” he compliments before letting out a sheepish laugh at his own boldness. Your stomach flips at his confession, and you have to stop and remind yourself that this is a completely different Bucky from the one you know. The Bucky you have back at home would sooner call you a pain in his ass than ever call you beautiful.

“Thank you,” you breathe out nervously, flashing him a meek smile while subtly trying to free yourself from his hold. You have no idea what repercussions will come from you interacting with him, and you still need to figure out a way to get back to your own time now that it’s been made clear you sent yourself to the past. You attempt to walk only to wince again at the ache in your leg, something Bucky notices immediately.

“You’re hurt. Let me take you home with me, my Ma can fix you right up and get you something to eat,” he offers only for you to quickly shake your head.

“I couldn’t impose. I’ll be fine, really,” you try to assure him, but your obvious discomfort isn’t very convincing.

“Nonsense. What kind of a man would I be if I left you here in this dingy alleyway to fend for yourself? My mother raised me better than that.”

You can’t help the soft smile that forms on your lips at his kindness. Steve had often mentioned how charming Bucky was in his younger days, how he had swept countless girls off their feet with his chivalrous nature and good looks. Bucky would always grumble about his friend’s need to exaggerate on the details of the past, but you were now seeing firsthand the truth to the Captain’s stories.

You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t stop yourself from finally relenting to Bucky’s request. How can you deny him when he flashes you such an endearing grin and looks upon you with eyes full of tenderness? You expect him to take your hand or give you his arm to steady yourself for the walk home, but he instead surprises you by literally sweeping you off of your feet and carrying you in his arms. You gasp, fingers anxiously clutching at the fabric of his dress shirt while you look to him with wide eyes; his strength is unwavering, and his lips sport a proud grin as he whisks you away to his apartment.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ve got you.”

Your inner turmoil is almost unbearable as you struggle to comprehend the sweetness of this Bucky in comparison to the brooding nature of your own Bucky. You’re not used to such acts of chivalry or flirtatious remarks, and it certainly doesn’t help alleviate the crush you harbor on your teammate. If anything, you’re even more confused now than you’ve ever been when it comes to your feelings for the Winter Soldier. You’re adamant about not falling into the fantasy, about staying focused on the task at hand, but it’s hard to do so when Bucky is so obviously sweet on you.

“I’ve just realized I don’t know your name,” he notes thoughtfully. “Most guys usually know the name of the girl they plan to bring home to their mother.”

“Y/n,” you reply gently despite the heat that spreads across your face at his jest, not even sure if giving your real name is the right move.

“Y/n,” he repeats sweetly, devoid of the usual tone of annoyance or irritation you’re used to. “I think that suits a pretty girl like you. My name is James, but most people just call me Bucky.”

“I like James,” you admit truthfully while avoiding his burning gaze. “I think it suits a gentleman like you.”

“A gentleman, huh? Mom will proud to hear that.”

You find yourself subtly sneaking a glance at his face while he speaks, unable to resist drinking in the details of a younger, innocent Bucky who has yet to endure the horrors his future has in store for him. He exuded confidence and light, and you could see why girls would throw themselves at his feet just to see his smile. This Bucky was full of hope, and your chest ached at having to keep what you knew about him hidden. You couldn’t risk stirring up trouble in the past by telling him what would take place after being shipped off to England and meddling with a future that had already been set in stone, and you knew he might not even believe you anyway. You had no choice but to keep your mouth shut and maintain your composure until you managed to get back to the present.

You eventually make it to his apartment and find your stomach twisting with nerves as Bucky carefully sets you down so he can unlock the door. You’re not sure how you’re going to handle meeting his mother or setting foot into his childhood home, and the entire situation feels much too intimate for you to bear. You’re an intruder in his life, the one he kept close to his chest away from everyone but Steve, and you wonder how much he’ll hate you for this when you finally get back.

“Let’s get you inside,” James urges, gently guiding you through the doorway while being mindful of your bad leg. He lets you hold onto his arm while escorting you towards the couch. The living room is quaintly decorated with photos and antique furniture, and the floral patterned wallpaper reminds you of the one your grandmother had kept in her home. The smell of a freshly cooked meal wafts through the apartment, and from the distance you can hear the quiet crackle of the kitchen radio playing a tune.

“Wait right here,” he says with a wink before disappearing down the hallway and leaving you to your own devices. You debate making your escape while he’s gone in order to avoid delving deeper into Bucky’s past life, but you know you won’t get far with a twisted ankle. Instead, you choose to quickly comb your fingers through your hair and dust yourself off to make yourself somewhat presentable in the presence of his mother.

“I’m telling you, Ma,” Bucky’s voice echoes through the hallway as he makes his return to the living room, “she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat at his flattery and try to appear as inconspicuous as possible despite your nerves. You can’t help but wonder how you’re supposed to go back to normal after all of this is over, and a part of you is starting to dread returning home.

Bucky walks into the room with an older woman on his arm. She has beautifully curled hair that’s been pinned back neatly to frame her weathered face. Despite the wrinkles under her eyes, they are bright with joy when she gazes upon her son, and her ruby red smile flashes pearly whites your way when she finally rests her attention on your awkward form.

“Mom, this is y/n,” Bucky introduces proudly, “I promised her you could fix her right up.”

“Oh, you poor dear,” his mother croons as she seats herself beside you. “James told me all about your nasty fall, but I don’t want you to worry. You’re in good hands here with me.”

“Thank you so much for your hospitality, Miss,” you express earnestly as you look into her striking blue eyes she shares with her son. “I promise I won’t be in your way long.”

“Nonsense,” she dismisses you with a wave of her hand. “Any friend of my James is welcome in this home. And please, call me Winnifred.”

“Thank you, Winnifred,” you repeat with a grateful smile, the woman’s kindness having alleviated some of your stress. You watch as she begins to scan over your features for any other possible injuries while taking in your disheveled form; her brows furrow slightly when she takes note of your attire.

“What peculiar clothing,” she murmurs while running her fingers along the rip in your tactical suit. You blanch slightly at the realization that you aren’t exactly dressed for the time period you’re in and scramble to come up with a lie.

“It’s my factory uniform,” you quickly fib, grateful for the fact you’d paid attention in your high school history class. “I make munitions for our boys overseas.”

“I love a woman in uniform,” Bucky notes with an innocent smile despite the flirtatious tone of his words.

“How admirable of you! But surely it must not be very comfortable. Why don’t you get cleaned up and changed out of that uniform before I wrap your ankle? I’ll find you something else to wear.”

“I’ll show you to the bathroom,” Bucky offers before assisting you back onto your feet. You wrap an arm around his midsection to keep yourself propped upright while lamely limping down the hallway with his help. “Mom really seemed to like you, not that I’m surprised.”

“I can see where you get your charm,” you tease gently, almost melting at the boyish grin that forms on his lips in response. Would it be wrong of you to wish you could have such an easy rapport with your own Bucky as you do with this one?

You make it to bathroom where James shows you how to work the shower before giving you your privacy. The water pressure isn’t as strong as what you’re used to back at the compound, but it does the job. You’re grateful to finally scrub off the grime and dried blood that had accumulated from the mission, and you feel like you’re in a much clearer headspace now to start planning your next move.

A simple dress is laid out on the dresser for you when you finish your shower, and once you’re decent Winnifred sits you down and wraps your ankle. She insists you keep off your foot and rest for the remainder of the evening in her daughter’s bed seeing as she’s off at a sleepover. You know better than to object to the woman’s demands, and so you find yourself seated on the cushiony mattress with a dinner tray on your lap. You’re absolutely starving, and you’re grateful to finally have the chance to eat considering you need your strength in order to attempt teleporting without the help of your inhibitor.

A gentle knock on the doorway interrupts your ruminative dinner, and you watch curiously as Bucky slowly peeks his head into the door.

“Mind if I keep you company?”

“Of course not,” you hum gently, heart thrumming in your chest when he seats himself on the edge of the bed beside you. The scent of his cologne mixed with his natural musk drowns your senses, causing a longing ache to settle in the pit of your stomach as you’re reminded of the fact that you must leave him behind when this is all over.

“How’s the ankle?”

“Your mom says the swelling should go down in a day or two as long as I keep off of it.”

“Does that mean you’ll be sticking around here a bit longer?” Bucky asks with a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. You smile faintly, but it isn’t very convincing.

“I can’t,” you relent gently, guilt consuming your entire being at the way his features falter in result. “I have to get back home.”

“You have someone waiting for you?” He prompts softly, absently fidgeting with a loose thread from the comforter.

“I do,” you confess quietly. You watch his gaze drop down to hide his disappointment, head shaking slightly as he lets out a soft chuckle.

“I should have known a girl like you would already be spoken for. Is he handsome?”

“Very,” you nod sheepishly, your face growing hot at having to confess such thoughts to the younger version of the man you picture in your head. “His eyes are blue like yours, but his hair’s a bit longer. He doesn’t smile much, but when he does it lights up an entire room.”

“Does he treat you the way you deserve?”

“He can be cold and closed off at times, but I know deep down he cares. He just isn’t very good at showing it, and I certainly don’t make it easy for him. I can be a handful, and we fight a lot, but I think I love him anyway.”

Sighing, Bucky runs his fingers through his perfectly combed hair before meeting your gaze. You watch as he reaches out to gently take hold of your hand in his left one. You can’t remove your eyes from the flesh no matter how hard you try, and you don’t think you’ll ever get over the feeling of being able to touch the arm that has yet to be tainted by Hydra’s touch. You almost want to tell him, but you’re able to bite your tongue.

“There isn’t anything I can do to change your mind?” He asks while giving your hand a gentle squeeze. His eyes are full of hope and admiration for the woman that had spontaneously fallen into his life, and though he’d only known you for a short period of time he knew that something about you was special. You were unlike any woman he’d ever met, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life getting to know you.

“I don’t think so, James,” you comfort softly. You feel so bold as to rest a hand gently upon his cheek, and you’re rewarded by the feeling of him leaning into your touch as he melts into your palm. “You’re a wonderful man, and I have a feeling this won’t be the last time our paths cross.”

Smiling faintly, Bucky cheekily turns his head to press a chaste kiss to your palm. Your breath catches in your throat at the act while your stomach flutters with nervous butterflies, but you don’t make a move to pull your hand away.

“I’ll hold you to that, sweetheart. I’d be a fool to let a girl like you out of my life,” he says with a wink before reluctantly beginning to pull away from you. Before you can stop yourself or think it through, you frantically shoot your hand out to keep him in place.

“Wait!” You exclaim desperately, catching both Bucky and yourself off guard. You know better than to bring the future to the past, and you know in the end that altering the course of his life won’t change the events of your present time, but you owe it to the man who had shown you such kindness to warn him about his fate.

“What is it, y/n?”

“I…,” you begin to say, faltering as you struggle to get the words out. He looks to you patiently for you to finish your sentence, and despite the guilt that consumes you for changing your mind, you continue, “I want you to promise me you’ll be careful in the future. I couldn’t stand anything happening to you, and I just want you to be safe.”

“Oh,” Bucky breathes as if he hadn’t been expecting such a serious profession. After processing your words, the man simply gives you an affirming nod and replies, “of course I will, doll. Anything you ask.”

The turmoil within you at keeping the truth to yourself persists, but you’re unable to say nothing more as Bucky rises from his seat on the bed and takes your empty tray from your lap. “I’ll get this out of your way.”

He leans down to press a tender kiss to your forehead before excusing himself from the room, shutting the door behind him to give you your privacy. You let out a shaky breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and blink back the tears that threaten to spill. You cherish the time you’ve spent with him here in his own time, but you also miss the Bucky you have back at home. You’ve never hated him, you just never understood him or the walls he insisted putting between you, but you can see now just how much Hydra had taken from him. He hadn’t always been the grumpy soldier you knew him as, and your stubborn nature certainly didn’t help him come out of his shell.

You needed to make things right, not only with the Bucky from your timeline but also with the one who had just spent his entire day looking after a complete stranger.

Despite the painful throbbing of your ankle, you will yourself out of bed and desperately rush towards the door. You know that exposing his true fate will not alter the course of your timeline, but perhaps there’s a possibility it can give him the chance to create a new timeline where he never gets the chance to become the Winter Soldier.

“Bucky!” You call out in hopes he’ll come rushing back down the hall. You’re so desperate to reach him that you don’t notice the soft glow of your inhibitor bracelet, and your frantic state of mind creates a lack of control over your teleportation ability.

You reach the doorknob just as your powers activate, and when you step through the doorway you are no longer in the apartment of James Barnes but instead in your own bedroom back at the compound.

You stagger forward in a daze, mind reeling from the use of your powers as you struggle to adjust to your new surroundings. Your heart drops to your chest when you finally come to the realization that you’re back where you belong, and you slowly sink down to your knees in tears over the fact that you’d been too late. Bucky would return to an empty bedroom, and he would go on to live the life that fate had chosen for him.

You couldn’t protect him- you’d failed.

You begin to sob as the amalgamation of emotions from your experience overtakes you, and you’re so consumed in your grief that you fail to hear the sound of your door sliding open behind you.

“Y/n? It’s been three days, where the hell have you been?” A startled voice sounds, causing you to jump in surprise. You turn to find Bucky standing in your doorway, his irritated features morphing into confusion at the sight of your distraught state. Tears steadily stream down your cheeks in time with the trembling of your shoulders, and he slowly makes his approach towards your figure on the floor. “Y/n?”

Bucky cautiously sinks to his knees beside you and places a careful hand on your back. The coolness of his metal arm has you shivering, a stark contract to the warmth you’d felt when he’d held your hand in his Brooklyn apartment. “Are you alright? What happened?”

You don’t think before throwing yourself into his arms and holding tightly onto his frame. Bucky nearly topples over from the impact but is quick to regain his balance so he can hold you both upright. Initially he isn’t sure how to react considering this is the first time you’ve ever willingly gotten this close to him let alone hugged him, but he’s eventually able to reciprocate the act by wrapping his arms around your trembling figure and holding you close to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, fingers tightly clutching at the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to ground yourself. “I’m sorry for always giving you such a hard time, for being so stubborn. You don’t deserve that, and I should have tried to be a better teammate.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bucky shushes gently, his tone unusually gentle as he carefully pulls away to look you in the face. “I know I’m not exactly the most pleasant person to be around sometimes, and I haven’t always been the nicest to you either. I’m sorry for that.”

“You mean you’re not going to yell at me for disappearing on you? You don’t hate me?” You snivel, prompting his lips to quirk up into a rare smile.

“I’m not going to yell at you for something you can’t control. And I never hated you. I just… never really knew how to be around you. Steve always speaks so highly of you, you’re everyone’s favorite, and I never felt like I had the right to know you so intimately the way they do. I figured keeping my distance would be easier, and I thought you preferred it that way considering our track record.”

“I don’t want you to keep your distance anymore,” you plead softly. “I want to be around you, I want you to feel comfortable around me.”

“That can be arranged,” Bucky notes with a faint smile while carefully brushing away the last of your tears, “but can I ask you what brought this on?”

“It’s a long story,” you admit while guiltily avoiding eye contact with the man. You’re not sure if you should tell him the truth about your venture just yet, but you don’t have it in you to lie to him. You know you’ll have to tell him one day, but for now it can wait. “Being gone these past few days just gave me time to get a new perspective on things.”

“Well, whatever happened, I’m glad it did,” he says truthfully. “Now let’s get you cleaned up so you can let the rest of the team know you made it back safe.”

You allow him to help you up off the ground just as he had in that alleyway, and when he looks down at you with his soft blue eyes you’re able to see his younger self once more. The charming, chivalrous James Barnes who had taken such good care of you still existed within Bucky, it would just take time for him to come out of his shell and open himself up to you the way his past self had done so.

And you would wait all the time in the world for him.

[pencil-n-pen]

I’M STILL TRYING EVERYTHING

⋆° 𐙚 ₊🧦☕🧸₊°⋆ ೀ₊°⋆

previous | kofi | masterlist

post prison!spencer reid x fem!reader

₊ ⊹

I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.

-mirrorball, taylor swift

₊ ⊹

summary: you’ve never had a date or a relationship that either didn’t work out or end in disaster. now that you have spencer, you’re determined not to let it happen again

cw: referenced bad past relationships, very very vaguely referenced past domestic abuse that honestly could be taken a different way, referenced child abuse (readers parents are STILL not it) again this is a criminal minds fic so references to graphic violence

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort (do i even need to say this? you all know who i am) insecurity, like one line of misogyny and it’s in the past and not brought up again, spencer being soft n worried, HEALTHY COMMUNICATION, spencer is just as gone for reader as she is for him honestly he's just a sap

a/n: back by popular demand !! seriously guys, you have no idea how much the support and comments and reblogs and asks means to me 🥹 the overwhelming amount of love for the first fic made me so happy when people started asking about a sequel i knew i had to !!

read the crossword on the collage for a surprise :)

this one goes out to all my girlies who’ve ever felt like they needed to be less in order to get a boyfriend or keep one. we’ll have our soft love just the way it was meant to be

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Spencer is a really good boyfriend.

Like… a really good boyfriend. You’re not sure if this is how having a real boyfriend is or if Spencer is just like this.

He’s so good to you. He’s just so- so him. You can’t explain it. Can’t put it into words.

He’s very patient with you. You’ve never explicitly stated it, but he’s picked up on your previous relationship experience- or more accurately, your lack thereof. The morning after you’d gone home with him, night consisting of nothing but easy sleep and warmth, he’d asked you out for real. Asked you if you’d go on a date with him, and you’d agreed, a giddy smile fixed firmly on your face.

But you still worry.

All it takes it one conversation with your parents to push things over the edge.

“Yes, dad. He’s very good to me.”

A laugh crackles over the line. “I tell you, your mother and I never thought we’d see the day.”

The words twinge uncomfortably in your chest. “Hey, I’m not that bad. I’ve just been focused.”

“More like uptight.”

“Dad—“

“You know, you still haven’t come out to visit your poor old parents since getting this so-called cushy job. And now you’ve got this boyfriend. You’re too young to settle down. Don’t you think we should meet him?”

Sometimes conversations turn so quickly they leave you stranded— scrambling to pick up pieces of what you thought was going to happen and piece them together to make something new. Something for the new route the conversation has taken.

You couldn’t hold back your sigh if you tried. “We haven’t been dating for that long dad, I don’t want to spring this on him—“

“Sweetie, if we don’t meet him now, why might never meet him. Who knows how long he’s gonna stick around?”

(Sometimes, in moments like these, for just a split second, you wonder how a father could say something like that, to his daughter. You wonder why, wonder what you did wrong. And then, you imagine Hotch saying those same things, and you can’t, and it almost makes you feel a little better.)

Your blood runs cold. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“Well, you know how things have ended in the past. I’m just saying I’d like to meet him before he’s gone."

You don't dignify his words with a response.

"Come on, honey. I'm just joking with you."

"It's not funny."

"Don't be like that--"

"Goodbye."

You hang up, snapping the phone shut with a sigh.

The older you've gotten, the more conversations with your parents end up like this. You suppose it's the way you 'wasted your potential' or 'never made something of yourself.' They've always held resentment ever since you decided to become an agent. So you know not to take what they say to heart, because their words only come from a place of disappointment and displeasure. It's not a reflection of who you really are or what you've really accomplished.

Or at least, that's what Hotch told you when he'd overheard one of your phone calls. It meant more than you'd let on.

But your Dad's words linger in your head. They're irritating and sharp where they claw around in your head because they're true.

You can count on one hand the amount of romantic endeavors you've had. And from those, they all ended horribly. Your parents lost sympathy towards the end of your attempts, muttered words of needing to try harder to keep them, that you should be satisfied that somebody wanted you at all, that you should try to be less... you.

Try to be less... you, dear. The books and the facts- nobody wants those. Put some more effort into your appearance. Otherwise you'll end up all alone.

You'd tried to take their advice, of course. But the relationships that were fathered your parents direction were not loving. There was nothing soft or gentle or warm about them. You'd never felt more unlovable.

So when the incident with the shooter happened and you were lying on the lecture hall floor, blood coloring the carpet deep scarlet, you'd vowed to never let it happen again. That you were going to use your intellect and wit and passion for what you wanted to do- you'd promised yourself that if you survived, you would try to make your life your own, one step at a time.

This, of course, is easier said than done.

It's easy enough to refuse to let yourself get involved with men who are clearly only interested in your for your badge or your body --though the latter happens so rarely you really don't have to worry about it-- because you don't care about them. They're blips on your radar.

But Spencer? Sweet, sweet Spencer who makes you hot-cocoa and binge watches Doctor Who with you, even the later seasons, which you know he doesn't like as much but you love. Spencer who always has a grounding touch to offer, or a quiet command when you need him. Spencer who puts you first.

But there's a limit to these things, right? As far as you've seen, romantic relationship's are transactional, or conditional. Sometimes both. He can't just... keep doing this forever. It's too kind. Too sweet. It'll come to an end soon. Like, like the honeymoon era in early relationships. That's all it is. Plus, he's older than you, and you have no illusions about your unavoidable impulsiveness and naivety.

You've been told that your standards are too high before. "Struck by the hopeless romantic's arrow," your brother had said once, back when you were still in school, crying over a boy who'd told you that he didn't want to date you because you were too smart for a girl.

"That's not being hopeless romantic. There's no such thing as being too smart for a girl."

"There isn't," He'd amended, "But you're not going to have an easy time finding a guy. You of all people can't really afford to be picky."

He'd been right, in the end. So you're just... having a hard time figuring out how genuine Spencer's actions are. Guy's don't really act all romantic in the context of you. You've been told your whole life to be happy with what you get, and what you've had in the past is decidedly not lining up with how Spencer treats you.

It's a nasty little thing in your ear. Is it real? Does it matter as much to him?

When is it all going to end?

--

Rossi make's an offhand comment during a mission that you talk a lot when you're excited about the subject at hand.

JJ agrees. "It's a little unnerving when the subject is the bruising patterns of strangulation."

That little voice comes back.

Too much too much too much too much too much--

"It's useful," You protest, mouth dry.

JJ snorts, "I'm not sure about that. We need to know that the victim was strangled, not what happens to the body during blunt-force asphyxiation."

You'd grown quiet then, let the chatter and musings of the rest of the team wash over you.

Is that something Spencer finds annoying? You have always found things other's view morbid and disturbing fascinating. But JJ is right. No one wants to hear about that.

You brush the comment off, square your shoulders, get back on with the case.

Be better. Try harder.

You don't seen the furrow of Spencer's brows from where he's been watching you, or the quick look he shares with Hotch.

--

You'd never really thought about how clingy you can be before Emily makes an offhand comment about it while the two of you wait in line at a coffee shop. There's a couple in front of you, the girl all over her partner, kissing and giggling and hugging them close.

"Ugh," Emily groans once the two get their coffee and move on. "I could never understand the appeal of all that. I mean doesn't it feel stifling?"

A little stab of ice in your stomach.

"I don't know. I think it's nice."

"No, thank you. If I were her partner, I'd feel smothered."

You think about that conversation every time you take Spencer's hand or lean into his simple touches. They're invasive little things, the thoughts. It's not hard to pull back on all the touching. You never really ask for them in the first place- always too nervous to come off clingy. But you suppose just taking, taking, taking is just the same.

A quick shake of your head, not leaning in, a quiet "I'm fine." and that little nagging fear of smothering begins to quiet. It doesn't leave, but it does get quieter. For a little while, at least.

--

The hard part is trying to be less without noticeably being less. Spencer's smart- and he's a profiler. If you pull back too much too quickly, he'll notice, and you don't want to talk about this yet. You just need to make sure he'll stay. That things won't—

That you won't find out too late that you don't mean as much to him as he does to you.

That's the kind of thing that can't happen again. But ascertaining his true feelings and desires is difficult, because this is all kind's of new territory for you. You want to believe it's real. You really, really want to believe it's real.

But it's never been real before, so why would it be real now?

--

You've asked around (subtly and carefully, of course) about the type of girl Spencer's dated or drifted towards in the past. You know he said he wanted something soft and sweet, but you can't help but think that you're not really either, nor are you in line with his type. All things considered, you're a mess. Something tired-eyed and hollow is how you feel most days. Some sort of creature perhaps? You're honestly not sure what you are. You've spent your entire life being singled out or otherwise othered- always too smart or too different or too weird or too much or too loud or too quiet or too shy or too, too, too. Always too something. You have never been called soft or sweet. In a demeaning way, sure, but never with the quiet reverence that Spencer said it with that night.

It feels like a balancing act, a bit. Holding all those too much parts so close to your chest with one hand and shoving the ones you think Spencer wants with the other hand.

You could probably drop the one hand. The one holding the bad parts. But you're just not convinced he'll stay. You're not sure that he won't look at them with some form of disgust or pity or something else terrible.

You know the balancing act isn't sustainable— you'll fall eventually, and everything will come crashing down, but until then, you just keep trying. Trying to see if he'll stay, trying to see what to do if he won't. How to ensure he will, if that's something that's possible.

--

The act does not hold up for as long as you hoped it would. It comes crashing down with a glass. Literally.

You and Spencer are in the kitchen on a rare weekend off, cooking and drinking wine and swaying to some little old love song.

It should be perfect, except you're worrying that you look ugly while you're dancing, and you're probably singing off-key, and he maybe wants you to shut up so he can hear the song or dance in peace.

He reaches towards you and you just— your brain shrieks for a moment, all senses going into overdrive and you jerk backward, and your elbow knocks into your wine glass, and it falls, shattering behind you with a deafening crash.

Your entire body tenses, waiting for yelling or sighing or something, because you broke the glass, there's crystalline shards everywhere, the wine red and it looks like blood, maybe it is, maybe you're bleeding because the glass was really close to your foot when it fell but you're not sure because you can't really feel your feet or your fingers or—

"Don't move," Spencer says, voice serious, and tears well in your eyes, because this is when it all ends isn't it? "I don't want you to— honey?"

"Yes?" You croak.

His eyes are swimming with concern as he takes in your hunched shoulders, shallow breaths, and scared expression.

Understanding flickers in his features, and you resist the urge to hold your breath.

"Nothing is going to happen to you because of the glass, okay? Everything is fine. We're fine. I'm not mad. See? I'm not mad. I just don't want you to cut your feet on the glass. I'm going to clean this up and get your slippers, okay?"

"Okay." You breathe, voice hoarse. You wring your hands nervously as he leaves to retrieve the necessary supplies to clean the mess, heart beating so fast and so hard you're shocked you can't see it through your shirt.

He's not mad. He's not mad. You're not in trouble. Your parents aren't here. You're not grounded. You're not in trouble. He's not mad.

You're silent while he cleans, focused on getting your breathing under control while he babbles quietly about the history of glass making and the significance of types of wine glasses. The facts and history wash over you in steady waves, easing the tension in your shoulders bit by bit.

"I didn't think you were going to hit me, Spencer."

He continues cleaning. "It's okay if you did. I would never blame you for that."

"But I don't," You say, suddenly desperate, "I know you wouldn't, I've never been hit, not like that."

He's quiet for a few minutes. "Does this have something to do with how you've been acting recently?"

You freeze. "What do you mean?"

He looks up, leaning back on his knees. Making himself smaller, you realize. He's trying not to scare you again.

"You're dating a profiler. Also, I speak fluent you, and you've been chewing all your hangnails again. You only do that when you're stressed and pretending like you're not."

Your finger's twitch at your sides.

His hands come up slowly, and he rubs the length of your waist and hips. "We don't have to talk about it right now, but I think we should soon. I don't want you hurting all by yourself. You've had enough of that. That's what I'm here for."

He finishes cleaning up the glass, and finishes cooking dinner- he'd assured you he'd turned off all burners when the glass hit the floor, so nothing's burnt.

Once you've both eaten, he steers you towards the couch and wordlessly puts on Doctor Who.

The Pandorica is just about to open when you finally decide that if you don't start talking, you never will.

"My parents think you're going to leave me."

Spencer makes a wounded noise in his throat. "Why do they think that?"

"Because it's happened before. I'm, um. I'm not very good at getting into relationships. Or keeping them."

"But that's not your fault."

You sniff hard, rubbing your face with your sleeve. "It is though, isn't it? At least a little. I know I can be a lot. I know I'm not easy to—"

You cut yourself off, but the words hang in the air anyway; unsaid.

I'm not easy to love.

"Anyway," You say, pushing through the lump in your throat. "I just thought. I don't know. I was worried that you'd get fed up with me."

"No," He whispers, voice raw and full of something a lot heavier than fond. "No, no baby. I like that you're clingy and you ramble when you get excited, because it means that we get to talk about something together."

He shifts on the couch, sitting criss-crossed, ducking his head down to catch your gaze. "You know what else I like?"

You scoot over, mirroring his position. "What?"

"I like that you always know when I need you. Even when I don't think I do, you're there. Because I do need you. This isn't a one-way street."

His words hit you straight in your chest. "Oh."

He smiles, brows a little scrunched, brown eyes a deep pool of fondness and a splash of concern. "Yeah. And I'm thinking you need me a little more than you want to let on."

The seam of your pajama pants suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world. Amazing, the wonders of a sewing machine.

"Maybe."

"Mmm," He hums, "So if I need you, don't you think that you're allowed to need me?"

Your fingers pick and twirl a loose thread around. "...Yes?"

A large, firm hand covers your thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. "Yes. Not only are you allowed to need me, I want you to need me. Cause you know how you're always worried about being the best girlfriend? Well, I'm always worried about being the best boyfriend."

That makes you look up. "Really?"

He chuckles again, a little puff of air fanning your face. "Yes, really. I assure you, contrary to your past experiences, this is one of those bare minimum things in a relationship."

"That does not," He continues, immediately catching the brief flicker of doubt and shame on your face, "Mean that it is your fault at all for how you were treated in the past. You wouldn't expect me to suddenly become an expert in veterinary medicine just because I've been to the vet's office a few times, right?"

"When did you go to the vet's—"

"Shh, I'm being a good boyfriend," He holds up a hand, lips quirking up when you can't suppress a tiny giggle, "But seriously. You had no frame of reference, right? And you were being told it was your fault. But it wasn't. You didn't deserve that."

He lets his words hang in the air for a little while and allows you time to process this new information.

"What do I do now?"

"Well," He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, curls tickling your forehead, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here. Just three things. You have to keep letting me need you, let yourself need me, and one last little thing."

"What?"

You're so close your breaths are mingling.

"Let me show you what this is supposed to look like. How a man is supposed to treat a pretty girl. His pretty girl."

"Oh, well," Heat rushes to your cheeks, your stomach doing flip-flops, "That sounds pretty hard. I don't know how I'll hold up."

His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, his thumb sweeping strokes under your eye.

"You say that now, but I know what happens to you when I get romantic. You swoon."

You laugh. "I do not swoon."

"You will."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. It isn't a kiss-kiss. He's kissing you just to kiss you; just to let you know that he's here, that you have him.

It's sweet and perfect and exactly what you need.

--

Letting yourself need Spencer is marginally easier now that you know he needs you. Now that you know you're not going all in for someone who isn't.

He also starts needing you a bit... louder.

It's late evening, and most people have gone home except you and a couple other members of the team, all still working on paperwork.

Except Spencer, who's decided to drape himself over your shoulders like a cat, his chin resting on your head.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Either finished it or it can be done later."

You shift your shoulders, smiling at how his grumbles vibrate against your back.

He moves his head, pressing his cheek to your head instead of his chin, heaving a deep sigh.

"Your hair smells good."

"Like what?"

"You're shampoo. Yours always smell better than mine."

You continue to work through your paperwork, Spencer a continuous and solid weight against your back.

"Is this even comfortable for your back at all?"

"Doesn't matter. Need girlfriend time."

He can't see it, but you're sure he knows how hard you blush.

--

Spencer's cooking the two of you a late breakfast in the kitchen of his apartment, hair still all mussed from sleep. He's quite the sight. You can't stop staring.

You're sitting on the counter, still dressed in your pajamas, legs swinging.

"You wanna know something cool?"

"You know it,"

"Butterflies and moths can drink blood and tears. There's nutrients in them. Purple Emperor butterflies are especially known for this. It's called mud-puddling."

"So you're telling me I should make sure I bandage any open wounds before I go to a butterfly house?"

"I guess. I can't imagine they'd be able to drink enough blood to actually cause any damage."

"Maybe we'll have to go to a butterfly house. For research."

"Should we get dinner afterwards?"

"We'll deserve it, you know, for all the hard research we'll have done."

"Hmm. Yes, I suppose so."

--

Spencer's bed is infinitely more comfortable than your bed. You're pretty sure it's a combination of the fact that it's the only thing in the entire world that smells so much like him and the fact that he spent part of his large FBI paycheck on a fancy mattress. Back support is very important to him.

You're doing a little reading before bed, shamelessly sprawled all over him while he does his own reading. You've got a leg hooked over his hips, the other tangled with his legs, and your arms and head pillowed on his chest. You move a little every time he takes a breath, and more than once you've paused in your reading, mesmerized by the feeling.

He shifts under you, setting his book down on his night stand and making himself more comfortable.

"Should I move?"

"No," he says, voice deep and gravelly with sleep. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to him, face pressed to the crook of your neck. He breathes deep, scruffy stubble scratching against your skin. "Like you close. Good for sleep."

Even with the lamp on, and your book in your hand, you fall asleep soon after him.

--

It's an ordinary evening for the two of you. Discarded dishes sit on the coffee table in front of the t.v, neither of you paying them any attention, wrapped up in each other and eyes glued to the screen.

You look up at Spencer who's watching Doctor Who with the focus of a man who's never seen it, even though you know for a fact he's seen it before, several times in fact.

"I want to know the things you like," He'd said simply, the one time you'd asked why he takes your nightly Doctor Who watching so seriously.

And tonight's no different. Tonight, he looks... well, he looks like Spencer. His face illuminated by the TV screen, his hair all mussed from you running your hands through it earlier.

And it just kind of all hits you at once. You know.

"I love you."

He looks down at you, his expression soft and surprised. When your words register, his expression is so sickeningly fond and happy you can't help but lean in, burying your face in his chest. He rubs your back consolingly, then presses a little kiss to the crown of your head.

"I love you too."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

taglist: @topsecret101 @slowdownpal @leeknowpegger @sunbl3achedfly @hiireadstuff @paige0103 @private190104 @beautyb1ade @coraline-jones353 @pleasenter-sandman @sttvrdustt @gluchie @thomasintheshadows @dessamira1001 @bbleeeeh @hufflely-puffly @bippityboppityboob1tch @buggys-space @redxfangirl @liauchiha147 @dreaming-potato @meandyoulollz @jobrosimp

[choslut]

˖ ࣪ ، ◞ せ⌇ BABY MOMMA. featuring k. nanami.

↻ there’s nothing nanami wants more in the world than to make you a mommy, and give you his beautiful kids.

tags : breeding kink, creampie, mommy kink (if you squint), messy sex, pet names, feral nanami, marathon sex, lactation + pregnancy (fantasized), ovulation cycle // wc. 0.9k

author’s note : sorry this one’s a lil late, i’ve been busy with theme changes and real life is throwing a million and one hurdles at me and i just can’t keep up 😞 you can't tell me that nanami wouldn't be a massive family man, so here i have him completely desperate to start a family with you and give you his babies. notes and reblogs are always appreciated, and check out my masterlist for non-event based works <3 !!

this work is NSFW. minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT.

it’s been hours. hours since nanami even proposed the idea of trying for kids, and now, it’s all he can fucking think about. 

it’s all you can think about too, given the fact that he’s fucked you out of your mind, legs numb from being in missionary for as long as you remember with nanami plunging in and out of you, the tip of his cock nudging your cervix with every single thrust. 

it’s repetitive. it’s addicting. 

“hah- kento, can’t take no more…” your voice is a sheepish babble, nails digging into his back as tears stream down your face. “ ‘s too much, ken, please–“

nanami grunts in your ear, hips never ceasing movement as he ruts into you. “g’na have to, sweetheart. this one’s gotta take.”

he said that about the last one, and the one before that, and the one before that… and fuck, you can’t keep up with how many times he’s said it because he’s been going at it for so long with only one goal in mind. 

he’s gonna give you kids. he’s gonna make you a mommy, and you’re gonna raise his kids with him as his wife. 

it’s all he’s ever wanted. it’s all he’s ever dreamed of, and when he watches you lounge around the house wearing nothing but a bra and his oversized dress shirt and a wedding ring fit snugly on your finger, he really can’t stop himself from imagining what you would look like with a swollen tummy, breasts spilling out of that same bra. 

“g’na give you my kids baby…” he’s rambling half out of his ass, his brain scrambled by pure need. “gonna make my girl a mommy. you’re gonna be a great mommy, aren't you?”

he’s brought up the topic before. it was never anything serious, just asking you what you would prefer and never really thinking of his own volition. you had always agreed with him wholeheartedly, and it would somehow lead to the two of you cooing over baby clothes and strollers but never anything more. 

nanami is fucking sick of it. he’s sick of fawning over the idea and not doing anything about it. sure, you’ve made love a couple of times, but it never held any true intent, focusing on the pure need to give each other pleasure. 

well, now, nanami needs more than pleasure. he needs to see you with that swollen tummy and those massive leaky tits, and there’s only one way to do that; fucking you within an inch of your life and cumming in your cunt until it finally takes. 

“kento–“ you seemingly haven’t gotten bored of it yet, despite having been at it for over two hours. your back still arches with every bump to your cervix, nails still raking down his back as his sweaty chest squashes your own. “this one’s gonna take, promise.”

“i can’t be sure of that,” he states matter-of-factly. “although your tracker says you’re ovulating, we can’t just trust that once or twice will be enough.” is he sure of this fact? no, but he is sure that you feel too damn good to stop, even though he’s already finished inside of you enough times to guarantee your pregnancy ten times over. 

you just look so beautiful beneath him. you wear the radiance of sex extremely well, eyes fogged over and mouth hanging open as your steamy pants echo in his ear. you’re borderline intoxicating, and that’s why nanami can’t stop, even though he knows you need him to before you pass out. 

“look at me, angel. i wanna see you.” you weakly turn your cheek away from the pillow and look up at him, lips stained a gorgeous red and swollen from his kisses. “you’re gonna be such a pretty momma.”

your eyelids flutter and your back arches weakly as you cum again for the final time, garbled moans of nanami’s name flooding from your throat. despite the longevity of your session, your cunt still manages to squeeze around him impossibly, and nanami groans deeply, arms sliding around your hips as you pulls you forward to meet his thrusts. 

“kentooo…”

“i know, baby, i know.” the sheets are soiled with your sweat and his, and the tight clampdown of your walls propels him to cum one final time, hips flush against your twitching clit as he pumps you full. 

you both stay like that for a beat, nanami folded over your twitching body before he finally pulls out slowly, and when he does, the sight he’s met with is so incredibly dirty that he can barely believe he was the one to reduce you to such a mess. “oh, angel…”

copious amounts of his release flood from your cunt, leaving a translucent pool on your sheets. whilst he absolutely loves the sight and wishes to brand it on the forefront of his brain, nanami’s goal is still clear as day. 

he leans down and kisses your overstimulated clit, fingers dancing around your twitchy hole and gathering up his release before pushing it back inside with a curl of his fingers that makes you want to scream. 

“can’t waste any, my dear, or it might not take, remember?” when he looks up at you from in between your trembling thighs, the look on his face is nothing short of depraved, blonde strands of hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks stained red with excitement. 

“can’t wait to see my girl become a mommy.”

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[xximperioxx]

One of me is cute, but two though?

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.7k (not proofread)

Warnings: NSFW (18+ ONLY) age gap, swearing, fluff, established relationship, poorly written explicit smut, p in v, the slightest bit somnophilia, breeding kink, cockwarming?, female anatomy, male anatomy, unsafe sex, (let me know if I missed anything) MDNI 18+

Notes: pls be gentle with me this is my first time writing smut like this and Im so inexperienced it’s not funny. Enjoy the Sarah Paulson meme I put in there. Also I’ve been blown away by the love my work has recent gotten and I truly appreciate it. Anyways enjoy <3

Gif cred: @xxdrixx

———————————————————

You don’t exactly remember how you and Dr. Robinavitch got together. It started out with stolen glances and innocent touches at work and a kiss outside your apartment when he walked you home one night.

Today was busy and you were ready to go home. Except it wasn’t even noon yet.

You sit down at a computer with a huff. Your feet silently thanking you for a break. The sounds of the ED ringing in your ears as you try to focus on the screen in front of you. Your leg begins to bounce out of habit and your eyes look around the busy hospital.

Santos takes a seat at the computer across from you. She gives you a small smile. You return the gesture before your eyes look back at the computer and stare at the time. All you wanted to do was go back to Robby’s apartment and cuddle on the couch with your sweats on. With how this day was going the dream of your Friday night plans were beginning to fade away. Is an easy day so hard to ask for?

Collins catches your eye as she tries to soothe a crying baby. Robby tells her something before she carefully hands the child to him. Your eyes immediately gravitate seeing your boyfriend gently rocking the fussy infant. You perk up, now sitting up straight. If this wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen you don’t know what was. The two of you haven’t brought up the conversation of kids just yet.

You knew he was getting older and while you were still young, you weren’t sure of motherhood just yet. You’ve seen the horrors and heartbreak of childbirth in this hospital but you’ve also seen the light it brought to people. When the tears of pain turn into tears of joy. You’ve always imagined having a family but you never had a timeline. That was until you saw your man holding a baby right then.

You feel yourself grow hot and your pulse quickens. Suddenly, images of a future as a family with him flash through your mind. Being pregnant with Robby by your side, gently rocking your child to sleep, getting them ready school in the morning. You want it. All of it. God you wanted to climb like a tree right here.

The attending can feel someone’s eyes on him. His eyes search the room before they land on yours. His gently shushing comes to a stop. He gives you a confused look, not able to read your expression. Your lustful eyes soften as your face flushes from enamorment. You love him. You shake your head silently telling him it’s nothing.

He gives you a smile that says ‘I love you’ but a look that says you’ll be talking later. He continues to softly shush the infant in his arms before going to find the mother.

You don’t hear Collins approach the desk. She follows your gaze and lets out a laugh, “You okay there, Doc?”

Santos doesn’t look up from her computer, “She’s been like this for 5 minutes. Making bedroom eyes at Dr. Robby.”

“I think my body just had a physical reaction.” you joke.

Santos grimaced, “I don’t need to know about that. You keep that to yourself.” Collins lets out a snort as you scoff.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You let out a yelp as a hand pulls you into an unused room. The person pulls you into them. Out of reflex you start resisting. Which ends up to be you sadly hitting their chest.

“It’s just me– stop hitting me. Hey!” Robby grabs your hands, stopping you from hitting him more.

Your eyes widen in shock, “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Surprised turns to annoyance. You glare at him, “Why didn’t you just leave me a note like you normally do?”

He lets go of your hands and lets out a laugh. You try to fight turning your scowl into a stupid grin at his laugh.

His hands slither around your waist, pulling you flushed against him, “Is it so wrong for me to want a spontaneous moment alone with my beautiful girlfriend.” You roll your eyes as your hands reach up to rest on his chest.

He leans down and his lips meet yours for a gentle kiss.

He slowly pulls away after a few seconds, “We really need to get you trained on self defense because whatever that was earlier– was sad.”

You hit him again.

“Ow!”

You shut him up with a quick kiss, “Don’t be a wimp. I didn’t hit you that hard.” He grins.

His thumb sneaks under your scrub top and grazes the bare skin. Subconsciously, you feel your body shiver at his cold touch and lean into him closer. He smirks down at you. “What was with that look you gave me earlier?”

Your eyes look up at him with innocence, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A pinch causes your hips to jerk. His fingers caress the area. You sigh and nervously play with his stethoscope around his neck. “It’s dumb.” You mumble.

He gives you a displeased look, “Trust me it’s not.”

You purse your lips and can feel your heart beating faster, “When you were holding that baby,” the image pops into your mind, “It made me realize I want that with you. Like really, really badly.”

Your boyfriend raises an eyebrow at you, not expecting that.

His face softens, “You want a baby with me?”

You nod.

“I want a family with you too.”

Your hands reach up and pull him down for a searing kiss. He kisses you back immediately.

The two of you slowly pull away to catch your breath.

Robby placed a kiss on your forehead, “I love you.”

Your face turns red at the thought of earlier. You laugh and hide your face in his chest. “Michael, I wanted to fuck you right then and there. It was so embarrassing.”

His laugh rumbles his chest. “So that’s what that look was.”

Your groan comes out muffled from his chest.

“Well, how about tonight when we get home,” his thumbs start tracing your skin again, “We can work on that. Plus, you’re ovulating…”

You pull away with a scoff, slightly amazed. “How the hell do you even know that?”

He shrugs, giving you a sheepish grin, “It’s the doctor in me…and the boyfriend in me.”

A knock interrupts you two. Dana’s voice rings out, “Robby! We got a teen. Respiratory arrest. ETA 2 minutes.”

You both pull away from each other. Robby runs his hands down his face before they drop to his side. He sighs.

You lift your hand to his cheek and bring his face to yours.You press a kiss to his other cheek. “I love you.”

He gives your hand a squeeze before walking out to prepare for the coming case. You pull out your phone for a minute, not wanting to make it obvious you were in the room with your attending alone.

You walk out of the room, mentally trying to prepare yourself for what’s to come for the rest of the shift. A body waiting outside the door scares you. Dana.

You greet her with a shy smile, “Hi, Dana.”

The charge nurse gives you a knowing smirk, “Hi, kid.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robby waits outside the hospital by the bike rack with one AirPod in. He focuses on McVie’s bass while ‘The Chain’ plays in his ear, blocking out the thoughts of his shift. His eyes follow the headlights of the cars passing the building.

You see Robby standing with his hands in his sweatshirt pockets. As if he could feel you coming, he looks up to meet your tired eyes. He greets you with a faint smile.

“Sorry, Collins stopped me on my way out about one of my patients.”

You didn’t want to tell him that the actual conversation was. It was just Collins leaning into you in passing with a “I hope it sticks tonight” ,a cheeky grin, and thumbs up for luck. All while you gaped at her.

You reach for his hand as you begin the walk to his place. Like most days when you and Robby share the same shift, the two of you walk to his apartment in comfortable silence. Robby normally listened to music to clear his head as you paid attention to the night life of the city.

Robby opens the door to his apartment and walks in after you. After dropping your bag at the table, you walk over to the door and take off your shoes. Out of the corner of your eye you see Robby walking over to you with a smolder.

He goes to reach for you but your hand stops him, “We are not doing anything until I am out of these scrubs and we have food in our stomachs because I know you didn’t eat anything today but a granola bar.”

Robby sighs in disappointment and you let out a snicker. He opens the fridge and pulls out leftovers as you grab two plates out of the cabinet.

The two of you eat while sharing conversations about positive things about your shifts. He brings up working with Whittaker as you share how your cases with Santos went well.

After you both finish, Robby picks up both of your plates as you start putting away the food you didn’t eat, “Do you mind if I take a quick shower?”

You wave him off and he gives you a quick peck on the lips before you start working on the dishes. After a bit, the kitchen is now clean. It had been a mess since this morning when the two of you left in a rush for work. You finish washing your hands before throwing the paper towel in the trash. The water had stopped a while ago and figured Robby had gotten ready for bed.

You make your way to the bedroom and find Robby sitting against the headboard in his boxers with a book in his hands. He glances up at you, his readers resting on his nose,“Thank you for cleaning, honey.”

He reaches his arm out to you. Walking over, you lean down and give him a quick kiss. “I’m going to shower. I’ll be quick.”

You come out of the bathroom feeling refreshed, wearing Robby’s bathrobe and some spare panties you had in the apartment. Rummaging through his dresser for a shirt, you feel Robby’s eyes on you. You laugh, “Stop looking at me like a teenage boy.”

“I can’t help it.” You glance down at the bulge growing in his boxers.

He motions you over and you immediately follow. You climb over him with ease, now straddling him. He notices your dilated pupils and how your breathing deepens. His calloused fingers trail from your thighs up to your hips.

Your eyes move from his eyes to his lips once more before leaning down and capturing his lips with yours. He kisses you back feverishly.

His fingers quickly untie the robe. He slips it off you and tosses it across the room. You let out a whimper as his hands immediately grasp at your breasts. Your kiss gets interrupted by your phone ringing from the other room.

You shake your head, “Ignore it.”

He leaves kisses down your neck. His teeth scraping, leaving you out of breath. You subconsciously begin to grind your hips. He lets out a groan before gently biting down on your pulse point.

His fingers push aside your panties. “Fuck,” He choked a groan feeling how wet you were.

You let out a whimper as his fingers collected your wetness. His thumb gently brushes against your clit. You fall into him with a gasp.

Your ringtone interrupts you again. You pull away with a sigh.

Robby’s hands rest on your hips. “Go get it. It could be important. Besides, I’m not going anywhere. ” you nod before he gives your hips a squeeze as you get off him.

You quickly grab an old junky shirt from his dresser. Your footsteps pad against the hardwood to the kitchen and you pick up your phone. You see two missed calls and a message from your mom. Call me.

What you thought was an important call ended up being 15 minutes of your mom trying to catch up and you repeating you would call her tomorrow. The ‘call me’ was just to tell you that she and dad got a new dog. You wanted to slam your head against the wall.

You come back into the bedroom with a snort, ready to tell your boyfriend what happened. You stop to find him asleep leaning against the headboard with his mouth slightly open. Soft snores fill the room. You let out a quiet laugh.

You turn the light off by his bedside and carefully take off his reading glasses before crawling into bed with him. You aimlessly scroll on your phone, looking at social media.

You don’t feel him shift, his head finally sinking into his pillow, “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

You roll onto your side and face him.

“For being tired after a long shift?”

He grumbles and you snuggle into him with your head laying on his bare chest. “It’s okay, I’m tired too,” you reassure him while stifling a yawn. He lays a gentle kiss on the top of your head. You both fall asleep within minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you woke up in the morning you were expecting it to be the smell of coffee and not your boyfriend copping a feel. Your eyes flutter open to see Robby’s fingers carefully massaging your breasts under your shirt, gently pinching your nipples. All while pressing kisses down your neck.

His hardened cock rubs against you. You let out a tired laugh before turning to face him, “Well, good morning to you.”

He gives you a boyish grin. He watches as you climb on top of him. In the same position as last night. “Good morning, hon.”

Your fingers graze his bulge before giving it a squeeze, “You weren’t joking about trying for a baby right away.”

Robby shakes his head while biting his lip trying not to moan. Noticing the damp spot on your panties, his rough fingers brush against your clothed clit, “Not wasting any time.”

You let out a whimper. “P-Perfect.”

He slides your panties down and you awkwardly take them off before he takes his boxers off. His cock springs against his stomach. You lower your hips. Robby grips your hips once more and you gently begin to move. Your slickness now coating his thick member as your pussy slowly rubs up and down. Your hand covers your mouth as you let out a muffled moan when your clit brushes against his tip.

Robby throws his head back, “Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, “if you keep this up. I-I can’t cum in you.”

You nod. You don’t think you can form a sentence right now. Your body was on fire. Your hips lift as Robby guides himself to your entrance. You let out a whine at the same time Robby lets out a breathy moan as you slowly sink down on him. Every inch stretching you as if it’s your first time together again.

You slowly begin to move your hips up and down as you ride him. After a few seconds you feel yourself grow tired and slow down. Robby lets out a chuckle.

“Don’t laugh. I’m doing all the work, old man.” His fingers find your clit and gives it a soft pinch. You let out a shaky gasp. “Don’t be mean.” You warn.

Your hands scratch at his chest as his hips begin to thrust up meeting yours. The sounds coming from his mouth edge you closer to finishing.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Robby warns with a grunt. His hooded eyes staring at your blissful face. His thumb rubs small circles on your clit.

“Oh fuck, Michael- baby,” you whine as he speeds up his thumb motion.

After a few more thrusts, Robby cums inside you with a guttural moan. Your release follows shortly after, loudly moaning as you feel him cum. Your hips continue to grind, riding out your bliss.

Suddenly, you feel heavy as your orgasm bliss wears off. Your muscles screaming at you. Panting, you tiredly slump on top of Robby. He gently rubs your back still inside you. The two of you even your breathing.

You lay in comfortable silence as you listen to his heartbeat. Robby draws shapes on your back. The sun peaks through a crevice of the blackout curtains.

“I feel good about that one,” you joke, “Having two of me will be a handful for you.”

Getting a second wind, Robby flips you both over. Now smirking down at you on your back, “We should keep trying…just to be safe.”

[darkbluekies]

Til death do us part

Yandere!mafia oc x reader

Summary: A summer romance turns dark as Silas can't accept that you've married someone else

Warnings: kidnapping, murder, blackmail, threats, Silas belittling darling, violence, isolation, jealousy, possessiveness

Word count: 5k

He’s everything you could have ever wanted. He’s sweet, caring and works at a bank. He can provide for you. He’s from a good family. Everything about him is perfect, everything you could ever have dreamt of. You could never have imagined that you would find a man like him after what happened last summer. 

You had met a man on the way home from dinner with a friend, someone that had helped you after the grocery bag you had bought food in on the way home. He had introduced himself as ‘Silas’ and had walked you home, carrying the groceries for you. You had thanked him. Silas had asked if you wanted to meet for coffee sometime, and you had agreed, innocently thinking nothing of it. You had gone out with him multiple times. Never actually becoming a couple, but acting like it. It was harmless, you thought. You kissed, went on dates and you knew that if things continued like this, you’d fall for him. 

But you noticed that something was weird about him, and it made you feel cautious in his presence. He never told you anything about his life and when you asked, you noticed that something shifted in his dark eyes. As if he tried to come up with a lie. It creeped you out somehow, because why couldn’t he tell you? Maybe you shouldn’t have trusted a man who tried to cover up his tattoos.

You finally got to know the truth at the end of the summer. A friend who had seen the two of you together had recognised him from a newspaper. He was a criminal, a leader of a mob, who was more dangerous than you could have anticipated. You had cut contact with him and moved away so that he wouldn’t be able to find you again. 

But he did. Somehow, he did. 

Letters have been piling up in your mailbox during these last few weeks, addressed to you and written in red ink. Your heart had stopped when you read the first one. 

“Y/N, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so terribly much. My heart bleeds and aches for you. You left me because you were scared. I get that. I get that very well, this is a world you should be afraid of, but I will protect you. I will take care of you better than that man ever could. Yeah, I know that you’ve found someone new. I know that you’re planning to get married. Quite quick, don’t you think? You haven’t known him that long, and now you’re getting married? Silly Y/N, you’re so cute. Do you really think you love him? Are you trying to reassure yourself that I’m a part of your past that will never return? Or are you trying to make everyone around you believe that you’ve gotten over me and moved on? I know you still think of me. I know you want me. And I want you too. I have never wanted someone other than you. You and me are meant for each other. Don’t marry him. Come back to me. It’s you and me til the end.”

You hadn’t shown your fiance, but he had noticed that something had been wrong with you. You had become silent and distant. Letter after letter came to your mailbox and he realized that something serious had happened. You had no choice but to tell him about Silas and your past with him, the present he doesn’t want to let go of, and the future he demands. Your fiance had promised that he wouldn’t get to you, and that he was only trying to scare you. 

You had been expecting to see Silas at your wedding, but he wasn’t there—or at least you didn’t catch a glimpse of him. Maybe your husband was right? Maybe he was just trying to scare you?

The start of the honeymoon is set to be on the SS Anastasia, a proud liner with three yellow funnels, a solid superstructure and a great reputation. It is set to take the two of you to Spain, where you have decided to have the rest of your honeymoon, away from all eyes and to be with no one but each other. 

A steward welcomes you on board. You thank him and give him a smile. He lets you know that your luggage, which you left down at the terminal, will be delivered straight to your cabin, a suite in first class. Only the best for the newlywed couple.

“I’m so excited to see the room”, you admit as the two of you navigate the ship to find the mani staircase. 

“The agent said that it would be nice”, your husband replies and chuckles. “Now, if we only could find it …”

You laugh. It takes you nearly ten minutes to find the right door among mazes of identical white doors. The suite is divided into three rooms: a bedroom, a sitting room and a bathroom, all decorated with expensive materials and fashionable colors. Polished dark wood and electric lights. 

“This is so nice”, your husband smiles, letting his eyes wander around. “I think we’ll have a good time here.”

You hug him and he chuckles, hugging you back. 

“I can’t believe I married you”, he says. 

Me neither, you think. 

Your mind drifts back to Silas and you feel your heart sink down to your stomach. You won’t be able to relax until you know that the ship has left harbour. There’s a constant, heavy feeling in your chest that you can’t explain. But you tell yourself that it’s just that; a feeling. Nothing more than old worries that haven’t been able to come up to the surface before now. You squeeze the man tighter, sighing out. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be safe. 

You have been promised a fantastic dinner, and the food delivers to your expectations. Everything is tasting like gold, served on a silverplatter. Sitting in the first class dining hall has given you an excuse to dress up. Everyone around is wearing their best clothes, and it is a silent competition in who looks the best. You look around, discreetly admiring everyone else’s attention to detail. You wonder how many of them have spent the entire day in their cabin, doing everything to look their absolutely best. The first night is usually relaxed, but a first time impression will always be remembered. 

“What would you like to do after?” your husband asks and sips on his wine. 

“I think I need to take a walk”, you joke. 

“Oh, yes, the night sky must be so beautiful out on deck. I reckon that you’ll be able to see the stars much easier out here. No city pollution.”

You walk hand in hand down the promenade, looking up at the starry night sky, pointing at familiar shapes. 

The next morning, after breakfast, the two of you walk to the lounge, deciding to take a calm day. Well deserved after planning a wedding and executing it. The lounge is cozy, reminding you of a simple living room rather than a first class room on an oceanliner. Maybe to make the passengers feel more at home.

Your husband takes the opportunity to indulge in a newspaper, finally having the time to sit down and actually read it.

You let your eyes wander around the large lounge, enjoying to admire the small details that give the room it’s cozy feel. But the feeling is quickly switched once your eyes land on someone. A man sitting in an armchair on the other side of the lounge, dark eyes feasted onto you, a small smirk playing at his lips when he notices you noticing him. You can feel your body go numb, feel yourself sink through your armchair, through the floor and through the ship’s metal. Feel yourself sink down to the bottom of the pitch black ocean. You forget how to breathe, head going blank. 

He found you.

You glance towards your husband who’s still invested in today’s news. Silas raises his eyebrows testingly as you look back at him, as if to say “yes, I’ve noticed him, you think he compares to me?”. 

Suddenly the air in the lounge seem to lose all oxygen. You need air, or else you will faint. 

“I-I have to get some fresh air”, you hear yourself mumble. 

“Are you okay?” your husband asks and looks up from his newspaper, eyes full of worry. 

“Yes—”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“N-No, I’ll be fine, I’ll be back soon.”

You need to get away. 

You hurry out of the lounge and out onto the enclosed promenade. The fresh air hits your face harshly. You grab onto the wall to support yourself while trying to find a way to breathe that doesn’t feel like needles poking through your throat. 

“You thought I wouldn’t find you?” 

You feel your heart stop. Quickly, you spin around, seeing his face way too close to yours. He tilts it, almost mockingly. You back away, stumbling over your feet and hitting your shoulder against the wall. Silas corners you, stopping you from escaping. 

“What do you want?” you breathe out shakingly. 

“Didn’t you get my letters?” he asks. “Or did you simply not read them?”

“Leave me alone. I-I’m married now.”

He smirks, tilting his head back and putting his hands into the back pockets of his suit pants.

“Indeed, you are”, he says and sighs out. “But do you really think that’s real?”

“What do you mean?” you almost stutter. 

Silas meets your eyes. He’s smiling. 

“Don’t you think I could have taken you whenever I wanted?” he asks. “The only reason you were able to marry that boring son of a bitch is because I let you. But, in the end, you belong to me. Isn’t that right?”

You don’t answer. You turn your head away, look out over the endless sea, and feel your eyes fill with tears. He wipes your tears with his thumb and you push his hand away. 

“I don’t”, you say, wondering where you have gotten the sudden bravery from. “I don’t belong to you. I belong to him.”

You show him the ring on your finger. Silas clenches his jaw and grabs a hold of that hand, forcing it closer. He pulls of the golden ring, scoffs at it and throws it overboard. You gasp and try to run forward, hoping to catch it before it falls too far, but he pushes you back against the wall. 

“Don’t ever say that again”, he warns you. “You don’t belong to him, how could you? I met you first. I claimed you first. He will have my seconds. Everything you do to him, you’ve done to me first. And he will never do anything as good as I did.”

“I left you because of this!” you hiss, reminding him. 

“No, you left me because you were scared. You don’t understand that you are in more danger if you aren’t with me. I’m the only one that can protect you. I didn’t want you to know about it because I know you’d be scared, but—”, he cups your cheeks, forcing you to look at him, “—but I won’t hurt you. You’re so special to me. I love you so much. You did read my letters, I can see it in your eyes. You know how much I love you.”

“Let me go”, you plead. 

“No. It’s you and I til the end, don’t you remember? I’m not letting you go again. I’ve been letting you have your fun for too long now. It’s about time I take you back. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Don’t hurt him either.”

You can see his eyes darken, his jaw clench. “You decide if it’s going to be violent or not.”

You freeze in his hold. 

“You can choose to come back to me, quietly and easy”, Silas starts and caresses your cheek. “We will be happy and your boy will be left alone.” He traces your jaw with his finger. “Or … you reject me and I take out my competition and take you with me once we reach Spain. No one will see you again.”

He seems to tell that you’ve stopped breathing, because he sits you down on one of the sun chairs and massage your throat. Your eyes are stuck onto nothing, empty. 

“I will give you until nine”, he whispers in your ear. “If you’re not outside my cabin at nine, A-30, knocking on my door, I will kill him.”

“You’re a liar”, you breathe out, voice barely audible. “You’ll kill him either way …”

Silas shrugs simply. “Maybe, but don’t you want to take your chances? You might save him.”

Silas stands up. You sit frozen. 

“Oh, and Y/N?” he says as if remembering something and looks down at you. “If I were you I wouldn’t tell anyone. You know, for obvious reasons.” 

He gives you a small, teasing smile before walking back inside. You sit still, not daring to move. Worried that if you move you’ll break down and realise what’s going on. You can feel your heart pound in your ears. No. No, this can’t be happening.

“What are you doing out here?” you hear a familiar voice ask. “You’re going to get sick!”

You feel your husband hang his blazer over your shoulders. The warmth, the familiar scent from him makes your heart hang heavy in your chest. You can’t help but feel like you’ve betrayed him, as if you’ve cheated your relationship, thanks to Silas’s threat. But if you cheat on it, you might save the love of your life. Can you cancel out a bad thing with a bad thing? Is it really a bad thing then? Can you be excused? 

You can’t tell him about it, but if you did, would he understand you?

“You don’t look well, actually”, he says and helps you stand. “You’ve probably already gotten sick. You should go lay down and rest.”

He helps you, slow and steady, to your suite. You lay down in bed and he tucks you in. 

“Should we ring for a steward?” he asks worriedly. “Ask for some tea and some medicine?”

“No, I’m fine”, you reassure him dimly. “I just need to be alone.”

“I’m worried about you. Something happened to you. I can help you.”

No, you can’t.

“Do you want to be left alone?” he asks. 

What if he gets killed?

“No, stay in here”, you wish. 

He nods. You hold his hand as you lay with your eyes closed, trying to think of what to do. He was clear; whatever you do, you’ll end up with Silas. The only thing you can choose—maybe—is to save the man holding your hand and whispering reassurance to you. The nicest you can do, in this situation, is to give in and beg Silas to leave him alone. You can’t be prideful and let him kill him. 

You find yourself outside cabin A-30 with your head spinning. You don’t want to do this, but what choice do you have? Your first is heavy when you lift it to knock, the sound of your knuckles hitting the polished wood seeming to echo throughout the entire ship. You can hear his footsteps on the other side and see him tower over you when he opens the door. His smirk sends a wave of nausea over you. 

“So, you came in the end”, he says cockily. “Good girl/boy.”

You lower your eyes to the floor. Silas steps aside and gestures for you to walk in. You do, on heavy, unresponsive legs. He closes the door behind you, locking it. You gulp. He lingers around you like a snake and you wait for him to put his fangs into your neck and shoot his venom into you. 

“You should rest”, Silas says softly and wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Let’s go to sleep.”

He leads you to the bed and lays you down, lying down behind you. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything that could scare you. You try to keep it in, but your body fails you. Sobs, quiet at first, leave your body. Tears run down your face. You hold your hand over your mouth, but Silas is close enough to hear you. He hugs you carefully and you can feel him rest his face into your shoulder. 

“There’s no need to worry”, he whispers. “You're back where you belong.”

It only makes you worry more.

“Your crying makes me so sad”, Silas whispers. “Everything will be okay, little thing. You're back now.”

You don't fall asleep that night, and you're sure Silas doesn't either. His grip on you remains tight and controlling, showing no sign of drowsiness.

The sun rises outside the porthole, and you're as wide awake as ever. Silas gets out of bed and starts to dress for the day. You remain in bed, feeling too empty to move. Your eyes fall onto the tattoos on his back and arms, wondering where he got them and what they represented. But something in you tells you that you don’t want to know.

“My darling”, Silas sighs and crouches down in front of the bed, caressing your face. “You don’t need to look so sad. You and me will have fun. We can do more than you ever could with that boy of yours could. My credit card never declines.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, frowning. 

“Oh? You didn't know?” His cocky face is getting on your nerves. “My men did some digging into him, and it seems like he spent a fortune on this honeymoon of yours. Barely anything left in his bank account. Poor thing was really trying to impress you, but the illusion would be all gone once you came back home. I, on the other hand, have all the money in the world.”

“Your money’s dirty.”

“Money’s money. I could launder it, and it’d be clean, but you wouldn’t accept it anyway. Which is why you’ll never get money from me. You’ll get jewelry, food, clothes—anything you want—and all you need to do in return is submit yourself to me.”

You sigh and look away. 

“We don’t have to talk about this now”, Silas says and stands up. “But you will submit to me, I know you will. Get dressed now, my love, we’re going to eat breakfast.”

Food is the last thing you want right now. 

“I’m not hungry”, you say. 

“Do you want to stay in?” he asks. “I can go get you breakfast that you can eat later.”

You nod, whatever will make him leave you alone for a while. Silas gives you a comforting smile and pets your head before leaving the cabin. You take the time to cry, when you know that he can’t see you, planning to stop before he returns, but failing. 

“Crying when you think I won’t notice?” he asks and scoffs, just a little bit amused. “Do you think I wouldn’t notice?”

He sets down a tray on the table in the room and walks over to the bed, crouching down and wiping your tears. 

“You’re mine”, he says. “Crying about that boy won’t change that fact.”

You don’t answer.

“Will I have to stay in here the entire time?” you ask coldly.

“No”, he says. “Not all the time, but if you want to leave the cabin, you will be by my side. If I were you, I wouldn't try to run away from me or try to tell anyone, because the ship is filled with my men. You don’t know who they are, and they won’t bother you if you behave, but the second I tell them to keep an eye out for you, they will.”

You glare at him.

“But you wouldn’t do that, would you?” Silas asks. 

“And then what?” you counter. “When we're in Spain?”

“Oh, we're not staying there. I'm not allowed there. My second in command is waiting for us there and will take us back to America as soon as we arrive.”

Oh …

“I don’t want to go back. Not with you.”

“Well, life's not fair, little thing. You should eat now. I got you all the things you told me that you liked.”

He takes you to the table in the cabin and starts to feed you the bread, the coffee and fruit. You eat, just you comply, too tired to fight with him. Fighting with a wall would be easier. A wall wouldn't talk back. A wall wouldn't threaten you.

“See how much easier it is when you obey?” Silas says.

You give him a quick gaze. He traces your cheek with his fingers. 

“I look so much forward to having you all to myself”, he mumbled. 

His words send icy shivers down your back. 

You stay in the cabin the coming day. You wonder what your real husband is thinking of your disappearance. Sure that Silas has already done something to make him stay away … or worse.

“You're so down, baby”, Silas says. “How about we do something, hm? We have a whole ship to our amusement. There is a game room, a pool, a library, and a squash court. How about that? Why don't we play some squash?”

You nod, just to get out of the cabin. Maybe you can figure something out. Maybe you can hide.

“That's my boy/girl”, Silas says and takes your hand. “Let's go.”

Walking out with him, hand in hand, made you feel horrible. He looked so proud, so cocky. 

He took you down to the squash court. He picked up a racquet and bounced a few balls. 

“I hope you know the rules”, Silas said with a chuckle. “Or else I will win.”

A man came into the squash court. Silas gave the man a quick, stern look before glancing towards you, and then back at him. This is one of his men, you figure. 

“Give me a second, darling”, he says and takes the man aside. 

They turn their backs to you, whispering. You glance towards the door. As they mumble about something incoherent, you sneak towards the door, opening it silently and sneaking out. You run, but only get a few meters before a hand rips you back. 

“Where do you think you're going?” Silas hisses in your ear.

He slams a hand over your mouth to prevent you from making any sounds and almost you back to the squash court. 

“I apologize”, he mutters to his man. “Seems like my baby here can't behave.”

He holds your back firmly against his chest, hand resting securely over your mouth. “They'll learn soon enough, once they learn the consequences.”

You fight against him, but he doesn't budge.

“Stop fighting”, Silas hisses and turns to his man. “I'm sure it won't happen again, ill make sure it won't, but can you tell the others to keep an eye out for this disobedient little shit? If you ever see them wander around alone, you get me immediately. Leave us now, I need to lecture them.”

The man nods, bows slightly and leaves the squash court. Silas lets you go and you back away from him, but he's quick to corner you.

“You don't get it, do you?” he asks, and sounds a tad bit amused. “You can't escape me. And, come on, trying to do that on a ship? I really thought you were smarter than that. Where would you go? The only place you could flee would be to jump overboard. But you're stupid, not suicidal. And now, all my men keep an eye out. Just accept that your place is here, with me.”

“I want my fucking husband!” you scream. “You aren't my husband, you're a low life criminal!”

Silas’s eyes darken.

“Okay then”, he says, slowly. “If you want him so badly, go look for him. Go find him. If you do, I'll let you go with him. If not, you're mine.”

“Your men will take me back to you.”

“I'll tell them to leave you as long as you don't talk to anyone. Search everywhere. Go to the lower classes, for all I care.”

“What have you done to him?”

He smiles slightly, but it's not one out of genuine happiness, but of mockery. “Do you really want to know?”

You turn around and leave. He follows you. You barely have time to walk down the corridor before a man takes a hold of your arm. A different man from before.

“You're not supposed to walk around”, he says.

“It's okay”, Silas says a few steps behind you.

He wears his chin high, a smirk on his face and his hands in his front pockets. You rip your arm from the strange man's hold.

“My baby is using their brain”, Silas says and reaches the two of you. “We'll see where that gets them. Keep an eye so that they don't talk to anyone. We don't want to encourage talking to strangers, now do we, little thing?”

You glare at him.

“Go, then”, Silas says. “What are you waiting for?”

You don't like how he's changed. Just five minutes earlier he was set on making sure you wouldn't wander … and now he encourages it. Something has happened to your husband and you want to find him as quickly as possible.

You walk away, leaving Silas and his man in the corridor outside the squash court. You're not sure where to start. As soon as you get out of their sight, you stop and sink down alongside the wall. Needing to just catch your breath.

But you don't linger too long. Before you change your mind, you stand up and start to walk. You end up walking back and forth for hours, sure that every eye that lands on you is a member of Silas’s organization, someone being paid to make sure you obey.

You search every little corner on the ship, but your husband is nowhere to be seen. Your suite is empty, but there are signs of struggle. A glass lying on the floor, more than one person's shoe marks on the carpet. You walk over to his suitcase and take out one of his shirts. Crying as you hold it.

“Any luck?” you suddenly hear him say.

Your blurry eyes dart to the open door, seeing him lean against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks so nonchalant, so careless. How can he?

“There are words for people like you”, you sniffle with a voice draped in hate. “Did you know that?”

“What word?”

“Inhuman.”

Silas scoffs out a small smile. “If only you were as smart with thinking as you were with words, you’d have figured it out by now.”

“What?”

“You haven’t found him anywhere on the ship, and you’ve been looking for hours.”

He doesn’t have to remind you. Your aching feet is enough to make you feel your loss.

“What did you do to him?” you ask weakly.

“I have already told you, if you listened to me, you’d figured it out earlier. I said that there is only one way to escape me.”

Your eyes widen as you dart your eyes to the round porthole. 

“Atta girl/boy”, Silas says, voice smooth as honey as he walks over to you.

“Y-You … y-you …”

“Don’t look at me. I didn’t do it.”

“You ordered it.”

“Are we back to the ‘dirty money’ thing again? Does it matter if I gave the instructions or not? It happened, and even if I said I gave the instructions, you wouldn’t take it.”

You hang your head heavy in your hands, crying. Silas hugs you and you try to fight back, but he doesn’t let you go. He holds you tightly, his rough hands keeping you against his body. 

“Now that he’s gone, you have no other choice than to accept me whole heartedly”, he whispers in your ear. “You have no one else. Only me. Until the end of time, til death do us part.”

You sob in his hold, wanting nothing more than to escape. You manage to glance towards the porthole. 

Silas holds your hand in a tight, painful grip as you walk off the ship, surrounded by a few of his men. People on the dock cheer and welcome their loved ones, but you’re pulled right through the crowd. You can’t hear any of them, your own sorrow drowning out all sounds of happiness. Silas takes you over to a car. A black haired man leans against it, but stands straight when he sees Silas. His second in command. 

“Boss, there you are”, he says with a small smile. “Did you have a good voyage?”

Silas lifts your tightly intertwined hands with a smirk on his face. “What do you think?”

The second in command looks at you up and down and smirks. “Congratulations.”

“I wish we could stay here but if the cops get me I’ll be in trouble”, Silas says and pulls you close. “Let’s go to the yacht before we’re noticed.”

He helps you into the automobile and you’re off, on the way to the ship that will take you back to America. Tears run down your face silently. You shut them, trying to imagine yourself in another place, somewhere far away from Silas and his evil entourage. Somewhere where you had never crossed paths with him. Somewhere where things had turned out different. A bump in the road forces your eyes open again and you’re pulled back into the car that will take you straight to your own personalized hell, with a man who is ready to kill for you. You wish you had never allowed him to carry your groceries. 

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!!

Could I request like a really cute Remus x reader where she’s never been kissed or anything before? Like they’re all out of Hogwarts or in their last year and she’s the only one to have never had a relationship, and she’s kinda insecure and anxious about it all?

No worries if not or if you’ve already done something like this!

Thank you! - x

Thank you for requesting <3

cw: alcohol, reader is a bit tipsy

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You don’t often feel self-conscious about your lack of romance. When you’re walking home from a bar on a cold night, it’s true that sometimes you wish you had a hand to hold, or a jacket that wasn’t your own, or somebody to slip an arm around your waist and make sure you keep your footing, but generally you’d rather wait than settle. When your friends start moaning and groaning about being lovelorn, though…

“It’s just been so long,” Sirius laments. He’s three sheets to the wind and hanging heavily from James’ side, who’s nodding commiseratingly as they wind a zig-zagging course down the sidewalk. “I mean, two months, James. Two months.” 

“It’s been nearly two weeks for me,” James says glumly. “I don’t know how much more I can take.” 

“Lily will be back from her holiday in three days,” Remus reminds him. He can hold his alcohol better than any of you, and thusly he’s been tasked with carrying the things everyone worried they’d lose. The keys to your apartment are somewhere in his pocket, along with James’ wallet—confiscated after James left it lying on the bar for the second time—and a collection of Sirius’ rings which keeps growing each time Sirius becomes distressed about them somehow falling off. 

“Yeah.” Sirius looks up at James, glaring. “You’re only two weeks in, and you’ve got a lifetime of kisses ahead of you. I’ve got to take them where I can get them, ‘nd I haven’t had even one in two months!” 

“If you think two months is bad,” you say, “try going your whole life.” 

You mean for it to come out light and quippy, but there’s a vulnerability lining your words that you don’t mean to reveal. You wince, thinking everyone’s heard it. 

“Well,” Sirius says after a brief silence, “yes, that does sound worse. Thank you, dollface. You’ve made me feel a bit better.” 

You smile ruefully. “Happy to help.” 

James starts waxing poetic about the shape of Lily’s top lip, and Remus slows his stride, falling into step beside you. You glance over, and he’s giving you a soft look. 

You go sheepish. “Sorry.” 

“What? Why are you sorry?” 

“That was embarrassing.” James and Sirius are talking loudly enough that you don’t have to lower your voice much to avoid being overheard. “I don’t mean to complain.” 

“It wasn’t embarrassing,” Remus murmurs, tone a fond color. He bumps your shoulder gently. “Anyway, I don’t think either of them are likely to remember.” 

You give him a sideways smile. “Maybe, but there’s still you.” 

“I can forget, too, if it suits you.” 

“It does suit me, thanks.” 

“Right. I’ll get right on that, then. Consider it forgotten.” 

You smile down at the sidewalk. There’s something about Remus which always relaxes you. Maybe it’s that he’s so easy to talk to, or that he doesn’t make you feel like you have to talk. You just feel safe with him. You walk a ways in comfortable silence, close but not quite touching, listening to Sirius and James giggle like schoolchildren ahead of you. 

“Do you really feel that way?” Remus asks after a while. “Like it’s bad that you haven’t kissed anyone?” 

You wet your lips. Your saliva tastes like booze. “Sometimes,” you admit. “Like, it’s not as bad for me as it seems for Sirius. But I guess it also probably helps that I don’t know what I’m missing.” 

“Yeah,” he hums, seeming pensive. “That makes sense.” 

“I do wish I’d gotten it over with earlier, though.” 

You’re not sure where it comes from. You do wish that, sometimes, but it’s not the sort of thing you say aloud. Even with a friend as good as Remus, it’s humiliating to declare a want so intimate. 

He looks surprised. “You do?” 

“Yeah,” you say, voice a shade of itself. 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“It wasn’t…it wasn’t really a choice. I was never trying to wait, or anything.” You shrug, cheeks warm. “There was just never an opportunity.” 

Remus makes a sound somewhere between a hum and a laugh. “Oh, I don’t believe that.” 

You look up. “Why not?” 

With your attention off the sidewalk, you stumble slightly, the toe of your shoe catching on the uneven pavement. Remus slips an arm around your waist to help. 

“Careful,” he says, suddenly incomprehensibly close to you. “Watch your footing.” 

“Sorry.” You look back down. “Why not?” you ask again, softly. 

“I just don’t think it’s possible no one ever tried to kiss you.” Remus’ voice is quiet but genuine. Unabashed. “More likely people have tried and you haven’t noticed. Or you just haven’t been ready. That’s alright too, you know.” 

“I’m ready,” you say certainly. “I’ve been ready. It just…hasn’t happened yet.” 

He hums. “That’s alright. So long as you’re alright with it.” 

You’re quiet the rest of the way home. You live in the same building as the boys, only the floor below. James’ bedroom is right above yours. He’s not usually too terrible an upstairs neighbor, though you’re looking forward to hearing him stumbling around before bed tonight. 

Remus walks you to your door while James and Sirius wait in the stairwell, cackling and crawling their way up on their hands and knees. He unlocks your door and reaches inside to turn on the hall light. 

“Alright?” he asks as you step inside. 

You nod. 

“Okay. Drink water, and make sure to lock the door behind you.” He gives you a smile, eyes dark in the dim light of your building. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,” you say back. But he hardly makes it a few steps away before you’re leaning out of the door, suddenly desperate. “Remus?” 

“Yeah?” He turns. And he’s so lovely, all softness and gentle features. You know he’s the right person to trust with this. 

You swallow. “I’ve been ready for a long time. And I don’t…I don’t know if I’m alright with it anymore.” 

Remus frowns, stepping closer. “It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with it.” 

“I just feel so behind.” Your tone is nearly pleading. “I’m tired of not knowing what I’m missing. I’m curious. I want to know what it’s like.” 

“Y/n.” Remus says your name like a remonstrance gentled. Like he feels sorry for you. “What are you asking me?” 

You worry your hands are shaking, but you steady yourself against the doorframe, making your voice solid. “I’d rather it be with someone I’m comfortable with. Someone I trust.” 

Remus moves closer to you. He’s nearly as close as before, when he’d held you up on the sidewalk. You wonder if this is how close people get before it happens. 

“You’re drunk,” he murmurs, not unkindly. 

You shake your head. “Not that drunk. Not so much I don’t know what I want.” 

He sighs. Says your name again as though to himself, with fondness and something else you can’t place. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” you say in a whisper. “I’d just feel a lot better if it was you.” 

“Oh, love.” He takes your face gently in his hands. The pads of his thumbs soothe over your cheeks. “That’s not it.” 

Your breath catches as Remus starts to lean towards you, your eyes fluttering closed. You stay perfectly still as his lips come to rest in the center of your forehead. 

It’s a tender kiss, not lingering but not overly brief. In the end, it’s so sweet you can’t even bring yourself to feel slighted. 

“Go to bed,” says Remus, pulling back with a sorry smile. “If you still want to talk about it in the morning, we will, yeah? It’s not that I don’t want to.” 

“Okay. I’ll…” Your whole face tingles as though you really have been kissed. You’re half tempted to touch your lips to see if they feel different. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I’m sorry, Remus.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he begs, backing down the hallway, “please. Goodnight, y/n.” 

Your voice comes out a tad breathless. “Goodnight.”

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor au anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 2: Piercings and Puns

“Pleeaaasse?” Johnny whines, pressing his hands together and giving you the biggest, sparkliest puppy dog look you could imagine.

You roll your eyes. “No.”

“Please! My two o’clock cancelled an’ I’m so bored!” He flops over the counter, arms dangling right above the appointment books. You pointedly ignore the size of his biceps.

“I’m not letting you pierce me just because you’re bored.” You scoff. “Now shoo, Simon’s got an appointment coming in soon.”

“But ye barely have any!” He argues. “All I’m askin’ fer is a wee ear. No’ even a nipple!”

A shocked amalgamation of a bark, laugh, and scoff forces it’s way out of you at that. “It’s still a no!”

Johnny groans, but at least moves away from the counter. Unfortunately, he takes the opportunity to circle around behind you, pinching the cartilage of your ear. “C’mon, ol’ righty’s beggin’ fer a conch.”

The intercom buzzes before you can respond. You swat Johnny away with one hand while pressing the speaker button with the other. “Hello?”

“I’ve go’ an appointment with Ghost.” A man’s voice drifts through. You blink dumbly for half a moment. You still haven’t gotten used to Simon’s social media and booking moniker - he doesn’t like giving his real name out much, apparently.

You buzz him in. Johnny is still hanging around the desk even when you leave to get Simon - making your way down the shirt hall to his studio. The large man stands in front of his stencil maker, back turned to you.

You knock on his door frame quietly. “Your guy’s here.”

“Be out in a moment.” He mumbles, focused on whatever he’s doing. You don’t really know the steps by heart, but you do know that there’s something so special about watching artists perform this repetitive song and dance. This rhythm they know by heart. Skilled hands enacting each step with careful precision.

He’s so hard to read. Big and bulky but calm as the night sea. You want him to like you, but you know badgering him certainly won’t get you there. So, you turn on your heal and head back out. When you return to the front, Johnny’s disappeared back into his room.

You suck your teeth and lean back in the desk chair, rolling your earlobe between your thumb and index finger. It’s not a bad offer, really. You only have two earlobe piercings on each side. Wouldn’t hurt to add a helix… you’ve also wanted to get your thirds done for a while. Work your way up. You glance at the clock. Simon won’t be done with his client for at least an hour or so, and you’ve balanced the registers for the moment. Both Kyle and John are out today, so they won’t need anything.

It wouldn’t hurt… well, not metaphorically.

With a sigh you stand, wandering your way to Johnny’s space. The door’s wide open, and his head snaps up the moment you step close like a sixth sense. “Takin’ me up on my offer, bonnie?”

You roll your eyes. “Guess I am.”

“Whit d’ye want?” Johnny practically skips around his station, pulling out wrapped, sanitized tools and placing them on a rolling tray. He pats the center of the padded table in the middle of the room.

“Uh, been wanting to do my thirds for a while.” You shrug. “If you have time for two.”

“Och, I’ve got all the time in the world fer ye, hen.” Johnny grins, pulling up in front of you and grabbing a marker.

He’s so close as he places the marks on your ears, warm fingers feeling for the best spots. A thumb traces the back of your left ear down just to the beginning of your jaw briefly. Fuck, he smells good. Warm musk with hints of citrus around the edges. The way he tucks your hair back, hands framing your face as he lines up the dots, is so oddly intimate compared to the other times you’ve gotten pierced. He chews at his lip in concentration, pulling at the scar on his chin while turning your head back forth a couple times.

“Think I’ve got it.” He grins and steps back. “Have a look.”

You take the mirror, casually checking but not paying too much attention. You trust him to do right by you. “Looks good.”

“A’right. Now the fun part.” He grins, tearing open the pack of tools and a two new needles.

“Is this fun?” You frown, squirming a little at the size of the needle.

“It’s always fun t’poke a pretty girl.”

You roll your eyes, a growing theme between you two it seems. “Oh, you thought that was real clever, didn’t you? Had that in your pocket a while?”

“Why donnae ye reach in an‘ check?” He murmurs, leaning close to clamp your left ear. You’re half tempted to tell him it’s mean to tease a fat girl like this - but you don’t think he means anything like that by it. He’s just a flirt by nature.

Before you can answer, he shoves the needle through your ear. You stiffen, a strained noise bubbling up out of your throat.

Johnny coos as he slips the earring into your ear. “One doon.”

“Uh-huh.” You sniffle. Not that it hurts badly, just a basic physical reaction. Johnny still gives you an empathetic smile.

The second goes quicker, Johnny locked in on his work. It’s interesting, seeing how intense they get. You Is it odd to wish someone would look at you like that? With that much focus and passion?

“There ye go…good girl.” He murmurs in that deep rumble that would have you squirming if you didn’t still have a needle through your ear. “Doin’ so good f’me...”

“You’re a devil, MacTavish.”

Johnny just chuckles, knowing full well exactly what he’s doing. He steps back to look at the final result after slipping the second stud into your ear. They feel hot - like two small ovens on either side of your head.

“If it weren’t for the piercings I’d think ye were blushing, hen.”

“You’re gonna get yourself slapped one of these days.” You scoff, sliding off the table.

“Wouldnnae be the first time.”

You find yourself rolling your eyes for the millionth time.

You grunt, squatting low in an attempt to pick the last of the parlor trash. It’s not that you mind, trash was part of your duties from the start, but holy shit do these boys put bricks in their bins? You’d think tattoos would make light trash. Especially after the sharps are disposed of separately.

“Solid?” Simon appears in the hall, eyes flicking over you. You still can’t tell how he feels about you. Neutral, you suppose. At least that’s all you can glean from behind his seemingly permanent black surgical mask.

“Ya.” You sigh, letting the bag drop and leaning back to stretch. “Just heavy. Swear y’all aren’t throwing rocks in these just to fuck with me?”

You give him a grin. Simon just cocks an eyebrow - exaggerated by the small piercing lining it. You think, maybe the slight shaking of his shoulder is a laugh. In combination won’t he crinkles in the corners of his eyes. Maybe not.

“‘ere.” Simon grunts, closing the short distance between you quickly before snatching up the bag like it weighs almost nothing.

You stutter, following after him toward the back exit. “You don’t have to-“

“Not a problem.” He grunts, tossing the thing over the side of the bin. He quietly leads you back inside, locking the door behind you “Johnny go’ you already?”

When you frown in confusion he points to his ears.

“Oh! Yeah.” You shrug, leading the way back to front desk to finish up your closing duties. “He’s insistent. I’d wanted them for a while anyway so I figured there’s no harm.”

“Give ‘im an inch...” He sighs, pointing to the black bar bridge piercing at the apex of his nose. “Somehow talked me into this shite.”

You tilt your head. “Yeah? I think it suits you.”

It really does. You can’t see most of his nose form under the mask but the arc of it leading up to bridge is strong, the piercing settling into the space nicely.

Simon breaks the silence. “You about done?”

“Almost. Just gotta check the ATM against the book real quick.” You nod.

He stares down at you for a moment, glancing out the semi-opaque window, now black with the night sky. There aren’t many street lamps on this side of town. You can only see a very faint glow from the one down by the car park.

“I’ll wait.” Simon settles his wide frame into Kyle’s usual chair.

“Oh! No you don’t have to! I’m sure you’re tired-“

“Wouldn’t feel right leavin’ you alone in the dark.” He cuts you off.

“It’s not a far walk-“

He scoffs. “Definitely not leaving you to walk alone.”

You sink your teeth into your lip, debating briefly on arguing. Based on his comfortable lean and crossed arms, it’s probably best to just let him walk you home. He looks so wide like that, veins prominent across his forearms. Fuck, you gotta find a boyfriend or booty call or something in this city. Anything to stop the temptation to stare at your hot coworkers.

It doesn’t take long to finish up your final chores. You turn all but one light off, wiring down from the bright overheads glaring at you all day. You glance over at Simon a few times while locking up the ATM, his covered face lit up by the light of his phone.

He leads you out of the shop once you’re finished, locking the door behind you and trying it a couple times to be sure. “Which way?”

“Uh, down here. It’s only twenty minutes.” You murmur, feeling guilty that you’ve kept him out extra late. You shove your hands in your hoodie pockets as you walk, the only sound on the street made up of your footsteps and some distant cars.

“What falls but never gets hurt?” Simon asks suddenly.

You frown. “Huh?”

“What falls but never gets hurt?”

You squint at him, trying to decipher anything from his face in the low light. You get nothing but a calm, warm gaze resting on you.

His eyes crinkle in the corners again. “Rain.”

“Pffft-“ You choke, caught off guard. “That’s such a lame pun.”

“Oh? I’ve got a better one.” Simon says, a smirk in his tone. “Why’d the mother clam scold her children?”

You chew your lip. God, you’re too literal to be clever enough for stupid puns and riddles. It doesn’t help that your head is spinning from this brick shithouse, incredibly attractive and intimidating man spitting popsicle puns at you.

“They were being shellfish.”

“Oh fuck off!” You shove at his arm playfully without thinking. He gives, let’s you push him slightly before you stiffen. “S-sorry! I don’t-“

“Nothin’ to apologize for.” The corners of his eyes crinkle deeper. Yeah, definitely a smile. You answer it with one of your own.

[alilweirddragon]

There’s so much fucking smoke-

[mywritersmind]

TROUBLE - LN4 part one

next part

summary : Trouble comes in many forms, for Lando Norris, it comes in the shape of his teammates sister. A week at Oscars brings more temptation and impulse than any other start to a season.

listen up : lando x piastri!reader. hii i’m back with a series!! im so excited for this one it’s gonna be perfect. comment to be on taglist!

words : 1890

⋆｡‧˚⋆

lando

I’ve met Oscar’s Mum before, but she seems even more like a goddess in her own home. She kisses both my cheeks when I walk in, going off about how excited she is that her ‘papaya boys’ are both home for the week.

I feel at home immediately.

Even though I haven’t moved from the entryway, I can see that Oscar’s house is insane. It’s incredibly open with an immediate view of their whole backyard because of how many windows are in this place.

Nicole hugs Oscar from the side, my teammate seemingly unphased until a small smile breaks onto his face. “I’m so happy you’re here! Do either of you want a drink? I’ve made-”

“Mum where’s the-” A very loud and very sweet voice cuts Nicole off, followed by a brown haired girl sliding around the corner in just socks and an oversized t-shirt. She stops talking when she notices us.

Nicole blinks, “Love. Lando’s just gotten here.”

The girl, Y/n, looks at me… then back to her mother, “Oh that’s today?” It’s then when I realize she’s eating candy because she pops the lolli back into her mouth as she smiles and walks closer to me.

I’ve never met this specific Piastri sister, but I know her instantly before anyone says her name. She’s easily the most stunning sibling (sorry to my teammate) and clearly the most trouble. Oscar has told me many stories of his childhood, all in which include his spunky little sister wanting to be involved.

“Hi to you too.” Oscar rolls his eyes as his sister gives him a look, waving her fingers casually then turning to me. Shit. She really is stunning.

“I’m Y/n.” She puts out her hand, using the other one to grab onto the lolli stick and pull the sweet out of her mouth. She holds eye contact like every journalist ever, her eyes a piercing blue that match her nail polish.

I clear my throat and smile, “Lando. Nice to meet you.” I shake her hand, her grip is firm but fleeting, her arm around brother in seconds.

“Hi Oscy.” She says, squeezing him tight as he acts annoyed. “Sorry for interrupting… I’m looking for my bikini.”

Nicole just shakes her head, smiling at her children lovingly, “The white one? You left it in my room.”

“Ah, thank you!” She stands up straighter and kisses her mom on the cheek, practically skipping down the hall, “Anyone wanna join me for a swim?”

“Sure.” I say it so easily that Oscar looks appalled.

“No.” He says, about to continue but is cut off by Y/n who’s walking down the hallway backwards.

“Lily will be here soon Oscar! You are swimming!” And with that, she’s gone and Oscar is sighing, dragging his bag down the hallway and looking back at me.

“C’mon then. I’ll show you your room.”

⋆༺

you

The white bikini in question is my favorite item of clothing I own. If you can even call it that. It’s tiny but mighty, making me honestly look the tannest I've ever been.

I sit up in my chair, the sun hot and contrasting the cold drink in my hand. Oscar’s across the pool, all smiley now that his girlfriend is in his arms. His other lover (or teammate I guess you could call him) is definitely asleep on one of the lounge chairs.

I eye his body shamelessly. His arm is over his eyes, his tanned and very fit body looking great in the sunshine.

I always wondered about Lando Norris. About his reputation… about his curl routine. But up until today, I've never met the man. He’s nice, polite, and definitely loves my mom.

There’s just something about the way he looks at me… like he’s curious or something.

That’s dangerous for me. Because if he looks like that when he’s just intrigued, I wonder what he’ll look like when that curiosity is fed.

Lando wakes up at Oscar jumping into the pool, the brit sitting up quickly, clearly disoriented. And then he looks at me.

Well, more like he catches me staring. I just smile, his eyes confused and his mouth slightly parted. I bite my lip, holding back a laugh. And then, I stand up, and dive into the pool.

⋆༺

lando

“So!” Nicole says, spinning around in the kitchen as she plates chips and guacamole, “Are you boys ready?”

Oscar glances at me, “For…?”

“The season, idiot.” Y/n hits the back of Oscars head, “What else?” She walks into the kitchen, still in that little bikini that made me blush when I first saw it.

Oscar flips her off, Y/n sticking out her tongue right back before biting into an apple. “I’d say so.” Oscar shrugs, looking at me for an answer.

“We definitely are.” I agree.

“What about your team?” Y/n chews, smirking as if she knows it’s problematic.

“Can you not stir shit up for two hours?” Oscar shakes his head as Lily walks in, smiling per usual. Y/n grins and walks out, her hand lingering on the countertop.

“Oh leave your sister alone.” Nicole shakes her head, handing the bowl to Lily, “She’s happy you’re back.”

“Right she seems it.”

“She is!” Lily nudges his arm, “You know, she just graduated uni and does want to see her brother for more than a couple hours every two months.”

Oscar says nothing, just nodding along with his girlfriend who is definitely in the right.

“I’m glad you two are here when no one else is!” Nicole sighs, “I love your sisters but sometimes I wonder if they know you’re actually an athlete.”

Oscar smiles at this, “I think it’s better if it’s just us.”

“Plus, now we can show Lando around!” Lily smiles, “Y/n is a great tour guide.”

⋆༺

you

Night comes as fast as ever, our dinner is finished quickly and Oscar is dead asleep on the couch soon after. Lily shakes him awake softly, telling him it’s time for bed.

“Night Lil.” I say, walking down the hall with a bowl of ice cream in hand and past my moms shut door. Hosting always tires her out.

I’m about to walk in my room, an old episode of Love Island waiting for me, but then I hear a loud bang in the room next to mine.

Considering it’s just a guest room, it surprises me. And then I realize that my lovely family put Lando in it. I can’t help myself, knocking on the door even though my common sense is screaming at me to run.

It swings open a second later, a messy haired Lando Norris standing very close in the doorway. “Hi!” He pulls his hand out of his curls.

He’s wearing a baggy shirt, some new quadrant creation I assume, and gray sweats. “You alright? I heard something.” I try to peek around his head but his face is in front of mine in an instant.

He looks a bit panicked, “Yeah! Yes! Of course.” He’s completely lying. I push past him and into the room that’s already a mess from his unpacking.

And then I laugh, “I didn’t mean to!” He defends himself instantly, “Really! I swear it broke so easily-”

He kneels next to the dresser drawer and frowns, a pair of shorts is the only thing occupying the space. “Don’t worry.” I bring my ice cream spoon to my mouth, “It was already broken. Just… don’t tell my mom.”

He looks even worse at my words, “Why…?”

“I’m the one who broke it.” I lean against the doorframe, “Long story, involves a guy.” I shake my head at the memory, “It just needs a good-” it’s like he reads my mind, shoving the drawer back into place as I smile, “Shove.”

He sits back on the end of the bed, shaking his head, “You break a lot of stuff secretly?”

“Apparently only my grandmother's items. Ran into her vase once… did not go over well with my mother.” He smiles at this, leaning back on his hands. “Well, if you need anything else unbroken, just ask.”

I pull the spoon out of my mouth, about to turn and leave before he stops me, “Hey- I could use some of that.” He points at my bowl, “Unless you want to get to sleep.”

I shake my head, “I’m never too tired for more ice cream.” He stands and follows me back into the kitchen. “You’ve got options.” I pull out a lemon sorbet, plain chocolate gelato, and a peanut butter crunch.

He snatches the gelato as I take a seat in one of the bar chairs, crossing my legs and watching him muscle out the ice cream. “Christ-” he scrunches up his nose while shoving the spoon into the top, “Isn’t gelato supposed to be soft?”

I just eye him, still struggling and making his arms look absolutely magnificent. I go through everything I know about him… He’s hot, 25, party boy, insane racer, mental health advocate, my brother's teammate, and someone who makes everything (even bright orange) attractive.

He catches me staring again, the corner of his lips quirking upward, “What?”

“Nothing.” I say simply, “Maybe let it thaw a bit.”

He drops his spoon, clearly frustrated. “Good idea.” He leans back against the counter, facing me and crossing his arms, “So. I heard you just graduated from uni.”

I almost laugh at his sentence starter, “Yeah. I heard you just extended your contract.” He laughs to himself, tilting his head down. “I hate small talk. What has Oscar said about me?”

“Right to it then…” He mumbles, “He said you’re his favorite sister.”

“Well of course I am. I’m the only one who didn’t taddle when he would sneak Lily into his room.” Lando laughs at this, “I may have bribed him after but…” I trail off, watching his eyes which remind me of the greenish blue shore, study me.

His posture is a bit slumped, he looks different from all the posters and media, much more chill. “I heard you were a bit of a trouble maker.”

“Were?” I scrunch my nose a bit.

“Maybe still are.” He shrugs, “Don’t know you well enough yet. Although from what i’ve gathered… what i’ve heard is true.”

“Can’t handle a little trouble, Norris?”

“No…” He looks down, a rogue curl falling onto his forehead as he sighs, “I can.”

I swirl my spoon around my bowl, my ice cream abandoned in a pool of melted chocolate, “Just not in the form of your teammate's sister?”

He doesn’t say anything, just scratches the back of his neck and brings his eyes upward, his head still tilted down. Then, he pushes off the counter and in one step, he’s back at the gelato, now melted enough for Lando to scoop.

He doesn’t answer my question, yet I know what he’s thinking. I slide off the stool and drop my plate into the sink, letting him off just this once. “Sweet dreams, neighbor.”

I walk past him, his mouth holding his spoon in his mouth and his eyes tracking me. “Neighbor?”

“My room is next to yours.” I glance back at him, taking a mental photo of his state, “Hope you don’t snore, the walls are thin.”

[hughes-your-daddy]

UH OH!

paring: quinn hughes x fem reader

warnings: swearing, labour, pregnancy

summary: your summer trip to the lake house ends in one extra person coming home with you.

it all started with a movie night. the whole family together for the first time since everyone made it out to michigan. jack, luke, quinn, ellen, jim and you. all bundled up on the l shaped couch, drowning in blankets and snacks.

quinn lays to the side of you on the l - shaped section, head resting on your chest, unconsciously tracing his fingers over your swollen 8 and a half month stomach.

one of the jurassic movies plays in the background, your eyes starting to droop, ready to fall asleep until a sudden quench of thirst hits you.

slowly, you peel off of quinn, a small pout forming on his lips as you giggle at him.

“you alright sweetie?” ellen asks, as quinn helps push you up from the couch.

“oh, yeh all fine, just need a drink. anyone want anything?” you ask, looking over to the others as they all decline.

you make your way into the kitchen, moving to open the cabinets and grabbing a cup to fill up with some orange juice. opening the fridge, you see some pickles which automatically catch your eye, completely forgetting about the orange juice and grabbing the jar instead.

you move around the kitchen to grab a plate before placing a few pickles on it, moving around to rest your elbows against the island.

so far, your pregnancy has been smooth sailing, all scans were prefect, any tests done came back clear. the nursery was set up at your shared apartment back in Vancouver, jack and luke even coming over for a few days to help paint and build furniture.

you had even gotten close to a name, but without knowing the gender yous didn’t want to commit to anything right now. saying that, yous also haven’t found the right options for a girl or boy, none of the names seeming to sit right with yous.

your eyes float back over to the empty glass, groaning when you remeber why you came here in the first place. pushing yourself off the island you move back over to the fridge leaving your 2 pickles to sit on the counter.

you go to open the fridge, startled by a sudden release of liquid between your legs. frozen, you slowly look down seeing a off-coloured liquid leak down between your legs. you snap back into reality just as you hear

“hey y/n, your nearly done-“

the sound of your fiancés voice rounding the corner of the island, freezing at the sight.

“quinn,” you say meeting his eyes, “i think that’s my waters.” your voice wavers slightly, a twinge of panic settling in your chest.

“shit shit, umm ok,” he mumbles rushing over, taking your hands and walking you over to a bar stool at the island, “your ok, just take a breath yeh?” he settles you on the stool, gently pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“i-it’s still going, why’s it still going? i thought it came all at once? do you think-” you begin rambling, only to be cut off by lips on yours.

“breathe baby. you’re ok,” he repeats, pulling back to look directly in your eyes, “i’m gonna get my mom and we’re gonna go to the hospital ok?” he says, voice calm and smooth. you manage to nod, feeling speechless.

you hear quinn call out to his mom and footsteps plodding down the hall, as all thoughts and panics swim your head.

“quinn it’s too early, im only 8 months, i-i don’t even have any contractions.” you ramble once again only to be cut off by a different voice this time.

“hey honey, you need to take some deep breaths for me,” your eyes focus to see ellen stood infront of you with her hands on your shoulders, “it’s not too early trust me, i’ve done this three times and none of them were anywhere close to their due date.” she sends a soft smile over to you, your eyes wandering over to see jack and luke mopping the floor with paper towels.

“i’m so sorry about the mess-“ you start, ellen interrupting you by clearing your throat.

“the least we can do for you, your bringing our little niece or nephew into the world.” luke smiles up to you, jack agreeing.

“do you have your midwife’s number y/n?” ellen asks, you nodding as quinn goes back into the living room to grab his phone, dialling the midwife.

“quinn, you need to tell her y/n’s waters have broke but there are no contractions yet ok? she’ll probably contact the hospital here to ask whether to send yous over or not.” she instructs quinn with a calming voice,he hands gently rubbing circles over your shoulders.

“why isn’t it stopping?” you ask, feeling a slow but growing puddle in your stool.

“that’s completely normal sweetie, not like the films where it all comes at once.” ellen answers, moving across the fill up a glass of water, “ but you have to keep hydrated ok?” she asks and you nod, hearing quinn back beside you on the phone to the midwife.

“yeh.. ok.. thank you so much.” quinn finishes slipping his phone into his sweatpants, “she said it should be alright to go to the hospital. she rang and they said they have plenty of room.” he says sending a soft smile your way.

besides the panic and worry filling your whole body, there’s a warmth and joy, knowing your going to finally be able to hold your little baby.

“do you think i could change clothes?” you ask, knowing your (or quinn’s) sweatpants are soaked and most likely your hoodie too.

“of course honey, i’ll try and pack a few things for you, i know your hospital bags back in vancouver.” ellen smiles, pressing a small kiss to the top of your head before disappearing.

“you think you can walk?” quinn asks gently, as you nod. quinn takes one of your hands, while jack takes your other arm, weary of the still, very sloppy, wet floor.

“thanks jacky.” you giggle as you can sense he is so confused right now.

“just make sure my little niece is alright yeh?” shoots back, smiling at your chirping.

“we don’t even know the gender yet jack.” quinn says as you get back to the carpeted floor.

“i just have this feeling.” jack smiles before heading back to finish mopping with luke.

“ok, just up some stairs honey.” quinn softly says, the two of you slowly making your way up the flights of stairs to the room yous are staying in.

you make your way across to the bed and quit gently sits you down moving across the room to the set of drawers beside the window pulling out some clothes.

“are these ok?” he asks holding up a pair of his flannel pyjama pants. you match his small smile, knowing they’re your favourite before he pulls out one of his canucks training hoodies and making his way back over to your bed.

he gently pulls your hoodie off, the hem at the bottom slightly wet and throws it into the en-suite to deal with later.

“you wanna keep this on?” he asks, referring to the small cropped tank top underneath, you shake your head knowing it’ll come off anyway, leaving you in your bra before he slides the new hoodie over top. he then starts on your sweat pants peeling off the now soaked one, throwing them also to the bathroom before moving away to grab a towel and dry down your legs.

“your incredible you know,” quinn says, as he dries down your thoughts, you giggle at the random comment making him look up at you, “just wanted to let you know.” he smiles, tossing the towel aside and pulling on the new pants, before helping you back to your feet.

“any contractions yet?” he asks, gently pulling you into his arms and swaying the both of you gently side to side.

“mmh no don’t think so, i think it’s all still braxton hicks.” you mumble feeling that exhaustion come back to you.

together the two of you (mostly quinn) move move around the room only packing essentials into his backpack like phones, chargers and some extra clothes.

“you ready to have this baby?” he asks wrapping an arm around your waist the holding holding his bag.

“i think so?” he hesitantly nod, a small smile appearing on your face.

making your way back downstairs, ellen has managed to pack a few things that she had buggy as presents for the two of you like a few baby grows, nappies etc.

“i think this should do you to for now, we gonna head straight into town first thing tomorrow morning to get you guys a temporary crib until we can figure out how you guys will get home ok?” she asks and you’re set back speechless as she hands another bag over top quinn.

“oh guys, you really don’t have to-“ you start only to be cut off by jim.

“we love you y/n your carrying pur grandchild, yous two only deserve the best.” jim smiles moving around to give you a small hug followed by ellen, jack and luke.

“you got this alright?” luke whispers as you nod.

growing up the new kid in town was hard when you were younger. moving at the age of 12 had a lot of issues with school and friends, but luke made it his personal mission to make sure that wasn’t a problem for much longer. yous two became inseparably quickly before jack joined and finally quinn, you were the same age as jack so you fit in with the brothers easily, getting out in goal when they practiced hockey even though you didn’t.

they became your second family, until you fell for the older brother one summer.

now your being loaded into his car, as the family get ready to follow in their own.

quinn slowly pulls out of the driveway, offering his hand for you to hold to try and ground yourself. he turns the radio on, soft music playing considering it’s around 11:30pm, the streetlights making the road barely visible.

he starts to get closer to the town, seeing the hospital in the distance when a massive contraction hits you out of nowhere.

“quinn.” you let out almost in a whine, gripping his hand tighter, as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles.

“your doing great honey, we’re just pulling up now, keep breathing for me.” he says, pulling into a car parking space before turning the car off and getting out to come round to your side.

your hands move to your belly, gently rubbing underneath to try and soothe the pain.

“you ready baby?” he asks opening the door and reaching over to help rub your belly.

“give me a sec.” you mumble, trying to catch your breath after that contraction, it knocked you right over, “ok, yeh i’m good.” you smile slightly, taking a deep breath before letting quinn help you out the car, both bags already over his shoulders as he grabs on of your hands his other snaking around your waist as you slowly make your way into the hospital.

you manage to get checked in and settled rather quickly due to how quiet it is, the nurse already checking your dilation.

“your already about 5cm which is great, hopefully it won’t be too long of a wait. i’ll be back in around an hour to check you again. if you need anything before then just shout and ill come over.” she smiles, binning her gloves before leaving the room, silence taking over as quinn stands beside your bed, hands in pockets looking like a lost puppy.

“quinn baby,” you smile gently, his eyes locking with yours, concern written all over his face, “c’mere.” you mumble, putting your hand out for him to grab, as his cautiously makes his way over taking your hand and setting himself down in the small chair by your bed.

“you ok? an hour ago you were the one calming me down, but now you look like your gonna cry hun.” you say gently, hand unconsciously rubbing your bump, which is now hooked up to lots of monitors, quinn holding your other with both his hands.

“trust me, the only tears that you’ll see are happy ones,” he lets out a small giggle before looking up to meet your eyes, “just feels like this is happening so quick.” he mumbles, his finger drawing shapes on that back of your hands.

“it is, but just think, it might be nice learning how to do all this,” you say gesturing to your belly, “with your whole family with us. it’s less stress.” you smile, as he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it.

“i’m so glad we have my mom and dad,” he lets out a happy huff, seeing your smile, before a knock interrupts you, “speaking of.” he smiles moving to get up and answer.

you adjust the light blanket over your lower half as you are now completely naked, only having your bra still on due to how hot your getting.

“hey guys,” quinn welcomes them, all of them here as they promised, ellen moving across the room to give you a hug.

“feeling any better now?” she asks pulling away as you give her a small smile and nod.

“said i’m 5cm and hoping it should go quick, so we’re just waiting.” you smile as they find seats around your bed, quinn moving to perch on the side of it, so his mom could have a chair.

hours pass from laying in the bed, bouncing on a yoga ball and now walking around the ward. the pyjama pants back on, hand low under your bump, now wearing quinn’s zip up hoodie over your bra as you hold onto your iv drop stand for support as you walk. quinn’s hand lays on the small of your back, slowly guiding you around the ward.

“i thought she said this would be quick.” you mumble slowly waddling along.

“they’re just being a little stubborn baby, wanna stay in your belly forever.” he smiles, moving to gently rub your bump with his other hand coming round to press a kiss against your temple, only for you to pull away, leaning against the wall with a hiss as another contraction hits.

“keep breathing baby, your doing so well.” he whispers, moving behind you to rub small circles on your back under his zip up.

“god it hurts quinn.” you whine, a tear falling down your cheek.

“i know, but your doing so well honey, not long now.” he says pressing a kiss to the back of your neck.

“ok, ok, i wanna go back, this isn’t helping.” you sigh, gaining composure after the contraction. he nods, guiding you back down the hall into your room, where jack and luke have crashed out on the small bench, jim out getting some coffees, leaving ellen on her phone.

“hey sweetie, did that help?” she asks as quinn sets you back down in the bed, putting the iv back by you.

“don’t think so.” you sigh, letting your eyes close for a moment.

soon the nurse drops by again, now 5:20am, as she checks your dilation once again.

“at 9cm now, not long sweetie, i’m gonna get the doctor ready as you should be able to push within an hour.” she smiles, moving to update your chart before leaving.

“it’s really time?” you ask looking up at quinn, as he pushes the hair off your forehead, placing down a kiss.

“yeh, baby, and then after you can get some rest.” he smiles causing a small chuckle out of you.

doctors and nurse begin filling the room, as family are ushered out leaving you and quinn, as they set up the stirrups.

he helps pull the pyjama pants off of you before the nurses get you in position.

“ok hun, when you feel that contraction you’re gonna push for me ok? i’m gonna count back from ten and once i reach zero you can stop but you gotta keep going for those 10 counts ok?” she asks, as quinn hand slips into yours, his other holding the back of your leg as he presses a kiss to your lips.

“you got this.” he whispers before you look back at the nurse, nodding.

as soon as that contraction hits, you begin pushing, pain radiating throughout your whole body, screaming and squeezing his hand to try and subside it.

“incredible job y/n, give me another big one.” the doctor calls out, as you catch your breath, small beads of sweat developing on your forehead.

once again you push and push and push until it feels like you’ve got nothing more to give.

“i can’t quinn, it hurts so bad.” you cry out, quinn coming down to rest his forehead on yours.

“you can baby ok? one more and then the head will be out and the rest is easy.” he says stern but soft, before moving to wipe a few stray tears from your cheeks.

so that’s what you do, keep pushing until you hear the cries of your newborn fill the room, tears of relief falling down onto your cheeks, as they’re placed into your bare chest

“that’s it baby, all done. you are absolutely incredible.” quinn laughs, a few tears on his own cheeks, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

“it’s a girl.” the nurse smiles as you cradle her close.

“hiya baby.” your voice wavers as your shaky finger comes to gently stroke her cheek, “she looks just like her daddy.” you whisper, before looking up to quinn who’s eyes are red and brimmed with his happy tears.

“gorgeous like her mama.” he smiles down before being called to cut the cord and having your daughter taken away to get cleaned and deliver the after birth.

the room quietens back down to a comfortable silence, only you, quinn and your newborn baby girl, cradled in your arms as quinn perched on the side of you bed, arm around your shoulders.

“what should we name her?” he asks, gently bring his hand down to brush the small tuff of hair out of her face.

“i did have an idea,” you mumble, quinn’s eyes meeting yours, “elleanor lucien hughes.” you smile seeing tears once again form.

“that’s beautiful baby. absolutely beautiful.” he whispers placing a small kiss onto the top of your head.

“but i guess now we’ll have to have another so jack doesn’t feel left out,” quinn mumbles causing a glare from you at the fact you’ve spent the last 7 hours in labour, “well wait a bit though, yeh?” he says hesitantly causing a smile to tug on your lips.

“i’d love that.”

[enjoythebutterflies33]

✮ What happened to hello | Lando Norris ✮

Summary: Quick little drabbled based on all the speculation of Lando getting a bad haircut because he wore his hat so much at the Mexican GP

word count: 848

a/n: I haven't wrote in a long time so I'm pretty rusty, go easy on me! I also wasn't entirely sure how I wanted to wrap up the ending, so yeah, sorry for that!

“Take the hat off Lando” You playfully demand with a squint of your eyes as soon as Lando’s face appears on your laptop screen. 

You’re currently on day 14 of being apart since Lando left for the triple-header and it’s eating you both alive. You haven’t been apart for longer than seven days at a time, in almost a year. Everyone around you, even the fans, call you two codependent, but really, you were just in love and wanted to spend as much time together as possible. 

Between the time zone differences and you both working so much, you’ve found it difficult to spend much time together. You’ve found comfort in being able to keep up with Lando from all of the fan and official F1 content posted online. 

You’ve gotten a giggle out of all the speculation surrounding Lando’s hair. It started on the first media day in Mexico, when it appeared Lando had gotten a haircut, but his hat stayed on the entire day. 

The next day was when the rumors actually started, Lando hadn’t taken his hat off again and every fan you came across was freaking out and cracking jokes that Lando got a bad haircut and was embarrassed about it. 

Initially, aside from enjoying all the posts, you hadn’t given it much thought, assuming Lando was mostly wearing the hat because of the heat; but then you realized Lando hadn’t sent you any photos without the hat on, and the handful of late night facetimes you had, he was already in bed with his hoodie up and it was mostly dark. 

Whenever you and Lando are apart, you always made sure to keep each other still included in the day to day parts of your lives; you were always sending photos, videos and voice notes until you could facetime or be with each other again. 

Lando hadn’t changed your familiar routine, he just never had hair showing, which was a little odd, but nothing concerning. You admittingly missed the post shower selfies or the sweaty, messy haired, tired post race selfies. 

You’re instantly met with a giggle from Lando “What happened to hello baby.” Lando’s sat in his drivers room, he’d got a couple hours break between practice and qualifying and wanted to make the most of your shared free time to squeeze in a quick facetime with you.

“Hello baby” You grinned cheekily. “I’ve missed you so much, did you get a bad haircut?” You giggled 

Lando raised an eyebrow as another giggle slipped past his lips. “Did I get a bad haircut?” 

You nodded quickly “You haven’t taken your hat off the entire time you’ve been in Mexico, so show me”

“And how would you know that, hmm?” Lando asked with a smirk. Lando was initially confused, but now all he wanted was to play into the fun he was having. 

A bright rosy blush crept up your cheeks as you briefly glanced away from Lando on the screen. Lando’s now grinning mischievously, enjoying getting to tease you. “Do I need to talk to Osc or have you been creeping on me?” 

Before you even get a chance to answer, Lando starts giggling again and shaking his head. You pout and cross your arms. “A bad haircut is the only explanation for the hat and not getting my selfies”

“Your selfies?” Lando questions, once again raising an eyebrow. He knows exactly what selfies you’re talking about, but one thing about Lando Norris is that he loves to tease his girlfriend.

“I want my post race selfies back Lando” 

Lando smiles widely, taking a moment to take in all of your soft sweet features. Lando hadn’t intentionally been keeping anything from you, the few days he had been in Mexico had been busier than usual and it slipped his mind. “I’m sorry my love, I promise you’ll get one after quali”

“I better” You murmur, arms still crossed against your chest. You did miss the selfies, but you weren’t actually annoyed with him, in fact any feelings that even remotely resembled annoyance or hurt from the past few days all stem from a place of missing Lando. 

Lando knows you better than you know yourself, so he knows that if he doesn’t do something in the next few minutes, the call is going to take a sharp turn from playful and fun to somber and probably leave at least one of you in tears. Neither you or Lando were one to shy away from your emotions, but if Lando could hold off on it, until he could guarantee you his undivided love and attention, that's what he’s going to do. 

Lando winks at you, before taking off his hat and running his hand through his hair. “Is that better my love?”

A small gasp passes your lips, before you break out into the widest smile that Lando had seen in weeks. “Lando!” You squeal happily. “You look so handsome, why have you been hiding your hair?”

“I haven’t been hiding my hair, you doughnut,” Lando laughed. “It’s hot and I like my hat”

[intrepidacious]

step number one

summary: You haven't kissed anyone in a couple of years. Johnny's more than happy to help you out.

pairing: johnny storm x f!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: friends to lovers, making out (in the name of practice) please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: this was supposed to be my valentine's day fic but here we are. c'est la vie. hope you still enjoy this fluffy nonsense a week later 🫶🏼

masterlist | read on ao3

"You got any plans for tomorrow?" Johnny asks the day before Valentine’s Day, spread out on your bed like usual, his eyes not lifting from his phone.

You snort. "Yeah, right."

There’s something, you think, about the aggressively pink-and-flowers-and-chocolate aesthetic of this month that well and truly makes you want to throw up. 14 per cent discounts and coupley pictures and cutesy videos have been flooding your feed for the past week and a half, and with most of your friends neatly paired off as well, it’s like there’s absolutely no escaping the—

"Why not?" Johnny asks. "I mean, pretty girl like you gotta have guys lined up around the corner." The smile in his voice is sincere enough to let you believe he really does mean that as a compliment.

"First of all, ew," you reply, closing your app after yet another "date fit" video. "Second, the last date I went on ended with the guy leaving the country, so there’s that." Granted, you’d known about his travel plans beforehand, but still.

Johnny pushes up on one elbow. "Really. Coffee shop creep?"

You scowl at him. "Don’t call him that."

He’d been nice enough. Paid for your drinks and museum tickets. Hung his jacket over your shoulders when you started shivering. Yes, he’d also ghosted you and gone to Iceland, but it wasn’t like you’d known him that well.

You’d only gotten your hopes up too soon, like you always did.

"That was your last date?" Johnny says, attention fully on you now. "Wasn’t that, like, four years ago?"

"Five," you mumble, your cheeks heating. Almost six, but who's counting? "So, no, I’m not doing Valentine’s Day."

Being single is much easier, anyway. You don’t have to consider anyone else in your life; don’t have to wonder about what they’re doing or whether their family liked you or if they’re planning a three month trip abroad … huh. Maybe that one’s still somewhat of a sore point, after all.

"Why haven’t you gone out with anyone in five years?"

"I don’t know, it just sorta happened. Not everyone goes on a date with a new person every week."

"Gross exaggeration."

"Not really," you say, nudging his side with your toes. "Do you ever see those girls a second time?"

"Sometimes. Hey, when did this become about me?" He catches your foot when you make to poke him again. His smile doesn’t waver, but his voice becomes gentler when he speaks again, a little more serious. "I thought you want a relationship."

You swallow.

"I do," you say quietly. "It’s just … it’s scary. I don’t like putting myself out there, and I’ve been so busy with everything else. I don’t have time to worry about small talk or the fact that at this point I don’t even know how to kiss anyone anymore."

It’s a vicious circle, really. Wanting something serious while also being terrified of anything serious. And suddenly, almost without noticing, years have gone by and nothing has changed at all.

Next to you, Johnny goes very still.

Honestly, it’s not the reaction you’ve expected. Deep down, you thought he’d laugh, tease you about the fact that it’s been nearly six years since you’ve gotten intimate with anyone. Sometimes, you want to laugh about it yourself, even though at the same time, you don’t find it funny at all.

But Johnny Storm has always had more layers than people give him credit for; even you, sometimes.

"Do you …" His voice cracks and he clears his throat, staring at the wall behind you. "Do you wanna practice?"

You blink, heat rushing to your cheeks before you even understand what he’s asking. "Practice what?"

"Kissing."

…

Maybe your brain short-circuited. There’s been some misfiring in your neurons, mistranslating his actual words, because there’s no way on earth he’s just suggested what you thought you heard.

"I—"

"It’d be one less thing for you to worry about, you know," he interrupts, talking quickly. You’ve never seen him look at you this intently. He seems to realize from your stunned expression, and a shadow of his earlier smile softens his face. "Don’t worry," he says. "I don’t bite unless you want me to."

Your mouth opens and closes a couple of times, your heart pounding so loud you can hear feel it behind your temples. "I don’t know how to respond to this."

"Say yes," Johnny says. "We can just try it out. We don’t have to bring it up again after today, it’ll just be … preparation, you know? Step number one of getting you back in the game."

It doesn’t feel like a game at all, this suggestion.

The craziest part about it, though, is that you are seriously considering it. You stare at him, his pretty blue eyes and his cocky grin, and the earnest expression behind his nonchalant façade. No matter your answer, he wouldn’t judge you.

Besides, it’s not like you’ve never thought about it.

You’ve caught glimpses of Johnny kissing other girls one too many times not to secretly wonder what it would be like. To feel his lips on yours, the heat of his body pressed against you, your hands gliding over the short buzz of his hair.

It’s longer now, maybe even long enough to tangle your fingers in and yank.

"Fine," you say quietly, and watch his smirk falter ever so slightly.

No matter his grand bravado, he clearly didn’t expect you to agree. It’s sweet, the way he scrambles to sit up properly, not even caring that his phone drops to the floor.

"Yeah?"

You swallow, nod. There’s an excited blush spreading on his cheeks that’s kind of endearing but also makes you want to melt into the ground. The way he’s staring at your lips makes you feel aware of every single cell in your body. You can’t remember ever being looked at like this.

"Do you want to …?"

"I don’t know, can you just—"

His hand cups your cheek, warm and steady. He’s always so warm.

"Close your eyes," he says lowly, and they fall shut of their own accord.

You don’t think you’re breathing as you wait, your hands fisted into your blanket as if you’re trying to hold on for dear life. Maybe you are.

For a very long moment, nothing happens, and you’re starting to feel like you’re being ridiculed after all. Like you’re going to open your eyes to Johnny laughing in your—

His lips brush against yours, just a single, careful touch, lingering, testing the waters. You don’t dare to move, or breathe, or do anything but feel. Your mind is racing, even though you cannot catch a single coherent thought.

The sheets rustle, the mattress dipping as Johnny breaks the kiss, adjusting his position. His thumb is still on your cheek, a gentle caress.

"You in there, darlin’?"

"Yeah." Your grip loosens a little.

"Okay." His breath fans over your lips. "You wanna try again?"

You’ve barely started nodding before he dives in again.

This time, you’re a little more ready for it, moving your mouth against his experimentally. He smells nice. You don’t know what to do with your hands.

He pulls away again and your heart tugs painfully, but he only tilts his head the other way and goes back to kissing you, still so soft, so languidly, like he has all the time in the world. He makes no rush of deepening the kiss, which is so like and unlike him at the same time.

It’s you, then, who leans in closer, your tongue slipping into his mouth, your brain going in and out of focus with each shuddering breath as he responds fervently. His fingers move down to your chin, angling it just a little. One of your hands lands on his shoulder, seeking balance.

He tastes sweet. Dangerously addictive.

This time, you’re the one to move back, your eyes flying open, feeling like his fire has set your entire body aflame. "How’d I do?"

Johnny blinks a couple of times, staring at your mouth, his pupils blown wide. You press your lips together.

"Not bad," he says hoarsely. "Maybe a little …"

"What?"

"Come here."

He catches your hands, putting them around his neck. It’s an awkward position, the rest of your body still angled away from his until he raises an eyebrow.

You realize there’s two options before you, and you’re not ready to have him on top of you in your own bed.

Instead, you straddle his thighs, looking over his shoulder to not have to meet his eye. His arms fall around you, settling at your lower back, pleasurable heat crawling up your spine.

"This okay?"

You kiss him again.

He makes a startled noise against your mouth, tightening his hold on you as his head drops back, granting you easier access. Your heart is pounding so wildly in your chest it’s making you dizzy.

It’s the most natural thing in the world, to kiss him like this. To scratch your fingernails against the nape of his neck until he makes that sound again. It vibrates against your tongue, and you melt against him, his body hot and solid against yours. Even when you come apart for air, he’s the only real thing in the world.

There’s nothing innocent about the way your mouths crash together now. He swallows your surprised moan like he’s been hungering for it, his hands bunching up your shirt at your back. You shudder against him when he grazes bare skin, each new touch burning in the most delicious manner. You’re weightless, intertwined, content to never again draw a single breath that hasn’t fallen from his lips first.

His tongue slides against yours, tasting your mouth in a way that borders on desperate. You press even closer to him, your fingers slipping into his hair in that way you’ve wanted to for longer than you’ve cared to admit even to yourself, hips involuntarily stuttering against his until he groans, responding in kind to each push and pull.

Finally, after what well may have been hours, you come apart, your forehead pressed to his, chests heaving. You don’t want to open your eyes; don’t want to return to the aftermath of what you’ve just done.

"Go out with me."

You sit back. Johnny’s arms are still draped around you, and there’s a mesmerized smile on his face as he looks at you. "What?"

"Go out with me. On a date." His voice is rough and strangely hopeful, and it makes your stomach flutter. "I promise no small talk."

"You’re not serious."

"About you?" His gaze drops to your lips again. "Always." His nose bumps against yours. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" You exhale shakily, dropping to a whisper. "That’s soon."

"Hmm."

"Maybe I should practice some more before then."

He smiles against your mouth.

thank you for reading my first full length johnny fic 😌 i'm sure it won't be the last. if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!