#Or at least keep a lot of things hush hush

[slippinninque]

Hi👋🏽 This is my first time ever putting in a fic request. I’m not sure if you take requests and I didn’t see anything on your blog so please feel free to ignore this. I was wondering what Fontaine would do if he saw his girl working so hard to balance school and work that she wasn’t taking care of herself like she should or not spending as much time with him?

💆🏾‍♀️Some Place Warm🫂

Fontaine x blackfemreader

Warnings: none, some cursing, mainly fluff. Mentions of feeling overworked and overwhelmed, before-work-post (may have some mistakes lol)

"It was tonight, wasn't it?"

You were standing in the middle of the living room, in the middle of wakefulness and the fugue that has been stubbornly following you for the past three weeks.

He saw you stare out into space as you tried to regain your thoughts. Fontaine froze when you turned wet eyes to him, the rest of your face fixed into flat mask.

Still wearing your hoodie and jeans, your cheek held the imprint of one of your text books. He normally would protest you bringing books to bed but with how thin you were already stretched so thin...

"I missed date night," your voice cracked and your hands came up to your face, "We would have been back by now...I...I really missed it...."

Fontaine was up brought you close and closed his eyes against the feel of your trembling. He gently pried your hands away from your face, seeing how your fingers began to curl into claws nearer your hair.

Fontaine hugged you tight, "Hey, hey, you're good."

Your wide eyes met his but Fontaine knew you were only seeing your thoughts plastered across his face. All the things that demanded your attention, the projects and papers and team meetings and recruiting.

He said nothing as he brought your head to his shoulder. Fontaine didn't want think too much about how you sagged against him. You felt, like a rag doll with weighted feet.

"It wasn't you, baby. You've had a lot on your plate, I didn't feel right waking you up." He admitted, "I thought maybe we could have date night at the crib this time. "

You made a quiet, hurt noise and nuzzled closer, "I'm so sorry..."

"Ah, ain't nothing be sorry fo'. I already ordered some grub, it's gonna be dinner in bed tonight. A'ight?"

"I'm sorry...."

Fontaine hushed you and wished he had more to say. Wish he could erase the nerves he could feel prickling along your skin. There was nothing he could say to you. Not right now, at least.

"The only thing I want you to be is getting in that tub for me." He cupped your face, "Bath is already made. Then we'll take it from there, okay?"

"No, that's too much." You tried to shake him off but Fontaine kept hold, "Date night is supposed to be special for the both of us--

Fontaine spoke over you just a bit, "Hush! You want--"

"Don't you hush me--!"

"-- You wanna to make it up to me?"

You nodded at once. Fontaine nodded back before he stepped back and took your hands in his. He took in the worried bend of your brow, the way you chewed and picked at at the healing spots on your bottom lip.

"I've been waiting on your ass to crash for 'bout two weeks now--ain't plotting on your downfall...just worried."

Fontaine's tone robbed you of your fight. You nodded and sniffled, the knot in your throat loosening. He was right. You couldn't keep going on like this, you were only going to get sloppier.

"Okay, good, c'mon and let me get my hands on you a little bit and you can curse at me later for hushing. Yeah?"

Fontaine tugged gently and you went after him feeling like the worse girlfriend in the world.

-----

When you finally felt like you could stand being in your skin. You washed yourself and did so again, mind humming on low as the water steamed and soothed you. There were mountains of bubbles and you could smell the lavender scented candle from its perch in the dreamy fog of the bathroom.

It was strange to feel so wrung out so soon. With the holiday season swiftly approaching, you were tied on both ends. Midterms papers and collaborations clashing with the growing seasonal demand at your Granny's catering business.

While you weren't charge of the magic of making the food you made sure the 'magicians' had their wands and their doves. Grocery orders, appliance repairs, and even down to scheduling for tastings and deliveries.

You made sure that all the elders had to focus on was doing what they loved and being as much of a mediator between them and youngin's of the staff as you could.

It was a good thing to see your grandmother be so invigorated by the rush but she ran a tight ship that felt more like a sardine can lately with all the passive aggressive wars that often came with family businesses.

You cut that thought off before it could take root. That would always be there. Instead you turned your thoughts on the man who still managed to surprise you.

Fontaine waited up for you when you stayed behind for next-day prep. He met you at the front door with a blunt rolled and the shower steaming. He rubbed your aching feet as you pounded out a essay analysis.

Fontaine, bless his heart, has been nothing but supportive. Also rightfully worried, of you had to be honest.

How could you have forgotten the one night in the week that mattered most? That's what sent you over the edge at the end of it all. Not the 11:59 deadlines and collapsing cake towers--the fact you forgot about your man.

As of drawn by the sound of your spiraling thoughts, Fontaine knocked a little on the door before you saw his free forms peek in.

"I got you all set if you're ready, baby." He came in a bit further as if he hadn't already seen your all, "If you're ready, that is?"

The water sloshed as you rose instead of answering. Fontaine came fully into the bathroom with a towel stretched and waiting for you.

"Bring yo' lil self here."

The towel wrapped you up and you were delighted to feel it was fresh from the dryer. Fontaine hummed knowingly and rocked you a bit before pulling back to dry you off in earnest.

It felt silly at first, you wanted to grab the towel and insist that you had it but....it felt nice to be out of control for once.

You were then led to the bedroom instead of the living room. There you found your nest ready and waiting. There was no textbooks or notebooks to be found, or pens to be stuck by. Only one of Fontaine's hoodies and your well-loved sleeping shorts.

A single touch made you gasp in delight, Fontaine must have tossed everything into the dryer while you were soaking.

Once you were dressed, Fontaine patted your bottom and peeled the covers back. You dove between the covers and was immediately enveloped by lilac and fresh-linen scent.

"Stay put for me and let me go get some shit together, 'kay?"

" 'kay..."

Fontaine smiled at the sound of your crunchy, sniffly voice, "That's it. Find us something good to watch. Imma be back ."

He saw right through you. Though you knew he would be only a few paces away, somewhere in the house, it still felt too far at the moment. His reassurance that he'd come back had you melting into the blankets.

By the time you settled on Antique's Roadshow, Fontaine returns balancing two styrofoam containers, cups, and a 2 liter of your favorite Faygo.

The logo on the bag with the condiments let you know he ordered from the Mediterranean spot you've been hankering for. This man could have very well unlocked mind reading in hopes of getting you to take care....

You made room for him to settle beside you but Fontaine slid in and was nearly behind you. Emotion locked your throat as you watched Fontaine settle in.

"Thank you, Fontaine. For all of this."

Fontaine took the remote and lowered the volume when the nice lady from Vegas whooped about a found white gold watch.

"You're buried, right now. Gettin' pulled in all sorts of directions. I would have seen it by now had you not told me to be ready for it. That's something we've talked about happening when you started going back to school. What we also talked about is showing up. Remember that?"

It was one evening on the back porch days ago. You were frustrated with your progress with things. Of school, of family, of life. In feeling over overwhelmed by things to do, you strangely end up feel like you aren't doing much.

Fontaine looked into your wary eyes, "We've been making it work. We make time when we can. I let you sleep in because, baby, you needed it."

"You need me too. I need you...I have to be more-more mindful. You're what really matters to me. I should do more..."

Fontaine shook his head and took your hand again, looking at where you fingers laced quickly with his before putting them both against his chest.

"What you said to me when I asked? 'Showing up is doing something. Anything you can.' That goes both ways. Understand?"

You took in the earnest look on his face and couldn't resist kissing it. You probably tasted like stale gum but Fontaine surged forward all the same.

"Mhn, nope--no..." Fontaine pulled back and narrowed an eye at you, "Behave, missy. Food first--something that ain't no damn trail mix or whatever you be snacking on..."

Before you opened your tray, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

"Can you help me do something first?"

Fontaine was reaching over to pull one of your bonnets out of the nightstand as he answered, "Of course, baby. What do you need?"

"Moral support...."

Fontaine held you as you typed out an email to your professor and your cousin.

First asking for a two-day extension to polish and submit your paper. To your cousin, you apologized but insisted you needed the rest of the week off to get some rest and refocus yourself.

Though you doubted you would take the whole week, Fontaine correct to point out that a little wiggle room couldn't hurt just in case you did need it.

While you were going to have your phone on, all that they would need to get through the week would be ready for pick up and payment.

Before your stomach could sour after you hit send, your phone vibrated where it still was in your hand.

[Girl, fuck these oldies! Get some sleep and let them learn a lesson without you for once! 💜💕💞]

Your eyes welled as the pressure in your stomach eased away. Fontaine saw the way your shoulders sagged and took the hand still holding your phone, kissing the laxing knuckles.

"See? Handled that shit like a fuckin' boss." His other hand went behind your head, strong fingers massaging the base of your neck much to your pleasure.

You released an exhale as your eyes slipped close, unaware of the shadow of a smile on your face.

Fontaine shifted closer to get both hands on you, going for your temples and the knot of thoughts at the base of your skull as he murmured, "Mm. That's sexy as hell--do it again."

"Hm? What, breathe?"

Fontaine purred when you gave a more exaggerated puff of air and a laugh danced a laugh out of you. Between Fontaine's attention and the soft comforts surrounding you, it felt like you were going to be fine.

Fontaine's voice was at you ear, "That feel good? You like when I rub your big, pretty brain like this? Hm?"

Of course you did and of course he already knew. The tension in your neck was no match for the most dexterous fingers in all the Glenn.

"Hmm...dunno. I may need a few more minutes to decide for sure."

"You ain't got to tell me twice, let me get up in that kitchen..."

Luckily for you Fontaine didn't ease up at all. Careful of your dinner, he pulled until you were back to chest and set to work massaging your neck and temples.

All you could feel was his warmness, the give of your bed. All you could hear was the soft shift of styrofoam and an explanation of the popularity of faux gold in the 70's from the TV.

All you could think of, blissfully, was how much you wished you had the HP to jump 'Taine's bones...

Your stomach growled loudly and indignantly. Fontaine chuckled when you shushed it and brought his retreating hands back to your scalp.

"A little while longer and then I want to see you go through at least half that plate." Fontaine pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before popping your bonnet over your hair

"Then I'll rub you however much you'd like..."

With a little chirp of agreement, you flopped back against your man and let him do what he did best.

Take care of you.

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

💜ending notes💜: a long time coming and I'm so sorry anon, I hope you see this and know to please please please feel free to submit again! This ask saved me like no other🥹💞💜💕 thank you to those who were so kind during my burn out, slow and steady definitely wins the race lol! 🙏🏾✨💕

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[masquenoire]

★

Send me a ★ and I’ll bold what applies to your muse.

“Morning, sweet thing...”

I like you / I hate you / I dislike you / I love you / You are family / I would take a bullet for you / I would shoot you / I would lie to your face / I would say something cruel to you on purpose / I would say something cruel to you accidentally / I would cheat on you / I would physically hurt you / You annoy me / You amuse me / I’d laugh at you / I’d laugh with you / I’d manipulate you / You scare me / You confuse me / I wish I knew you better / I trust you / I don’t trust you / You inspire me / I consider you an equal / You are beneath me / You’re better than me / I would trust you with my life / I think you’re mean / I think you’re petty / I think you’re childish / I think you’re smart / I think you’re stupid / I think you’re a bad person / I think you’re a good person / I’m not sure what kind of person you are / I wish you would listen to me / I want to make you proud / I wish you would notice me / I want to impress you / I would hurt other people for you / I’m not sure how to make you happy / I’m a bad influence on you / You deserve better than me / We make a great team / I’d have a one night stand with you / I’d have a relationship with you / I would marry you / I fantasize about our life together / I would trust you with my most treasured belonging / I would tell you my darkest secrets / You disgust me / You intimidate me / I hope I intimidate you / I’d hug you / I’d let you hug me / I’m scared of losing you / I don’t think you like me / I want to be better for you / I respect you / I don’t respect you / You’re my mentor / You’re my friend / You’re my best friend / I have a crush on you / I could easily watch you die / I’d get drunk with you / I’d party with you / I’d comfort you / I’d prank you / I’d spike your drink / I’d act behind your back / I’d abandon you / I’d hurt you to get what I want / I would choose my happiness over yours / I would choose your happiness over mine / I despise how much I care for you / I need you / I’m dependent on you / I don’t know what I’d do without you / I’m scared of you leaving me / I’d give my life for you / You frustrate me / I’d call for you in a time of need / I would protect you / I’d visit you in hospital / I’d carry you if you were hurt / I’d feel guilty if I hurt you / I’d let you be near me when I am vulnerable / I’d ignore a phone call from you / I’d call you at 3am / I’d break you out of jail / I’d get angry at you / I would shout at you / You’re too loud / You’re too quiet / You’re too sensitive / You can’t take a joke / You embarrass me / I feel nothing for you / You’re reckless / You’re bossy / You bore me / I would ask your advice / I would blame you for something I did / I would cry in your arms / You have the power to hurt me more than anyone else /

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Me, You, and Baby, Too

Summary: You and Joel have always wanted kids, but didn't want to rush into having them until you both were ready. After a surprise at his job, Joel realizes there's nothing more he wants to do than put a baby in you as soon as he gets home.

Pairing: Husband!Joel Miller x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (it's baby making time, so hush), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, big ole fat and nasty breeding kink (.... don't look at me it's bad), creampie, cum play, talks of starting a family, calling Joel "Daddy" (in the sense you want to have his babies, but also 🤷🏼‍♀️), Sweet soft Joel who loves his wife and would give her the universe if he could, honestly with just the way Joel is talking about makin' babies, I think I'm pregnant

A/N: It's that time of the month where Madeline ovulates and writes feral breeding kink smut!!! 🤪 Okay I am so nervous to post this because I have never written for Joel before and I'm worried it's trash with a capital T, but after re-watching TLOU, I need 2003 Joel Miller carnally, so here we are. This is also inspired by @mrsmando post about 2003 Joel Miller constantly keeping you barefoot and pregnant because it made me unwell, and no lies were told. (thanks for ruining my life mimi) 🤠 ANYWHO I hope you guys like it, and if not, I'll shut up and go back to writing Javi and Frankie and pretend like this didn't happen

There were a lot of stereotypical answers that you expected from your husband when you asked him how his day at work had been:  

“Good.” 

“Fine.” 

“Long.” 

“My knees are killin’ me.” 

“Tommy did somethin’ fuckin’ stupid again.” 

“Better now that I’m home with you.” 

So when Joel arrived home today after a new job he had started with Tommy on a bathroom renovation, there were few things that could have prepared you for the response your husband had when you asked him how his day had gone. 

“Hey, honey. How was your day today?” You smiled, watching Joel stroll in through your front door, kicking off his work boots at the entryway, beginning to put away his things before strolling into the kitchen to greet you. 

“Pretty good." He paused, leaning in for a quick kiss before making his way over to the closet before speaking again. "Saw a real cute baby today.” 

You could practically feel your heart skip a beat as you looked up from the vegetables you had been cutting up for dinner, tightening the grip you had around your knife to make sure you didn’t drop it in shock. 

Out of all the things for Joel to bring up on the first day at a new job, a cute baby had been at the top of the list.

Not floor plans. 

Not timelines for the project.

Not something stupid that Tommy did. 

Not even what he had done today on the job. 

The top news that Joel Miller had to report back to you about his day was the sighting of a cute baby. 

You and Joel had always agreed that you’d wanted kids, and your husband had been not only adamant, but genuinely excited at the prospect of becoming a dad. But only being a little less than a year into your marriage, the two of you had decided you didn’t want to rush into anything, and when the time felt right, you’d both know it. 

But one by one, as your friends began to announce their pregnancies, baby showers, and pictures of their adorable newborns, you couldn’t help but deny the baby fever starting to burn hotter and hotter inside you with every passing day. 

You’d brought it up in passing a few times with Joel, talking about your friends who had kids, or a cute mom and her children you saw walking around in your neighborhood, and while he had always had a positive response to what you had to say, you just had a feeling that now just wasn’t the time for the two of you yet, and that was okay.  

But here you were, standing in your kitchen, jaw practically scraping the ground at the notion that your husband had dropped just about the least subtle hint ever that babies weren’t just at the forefront of your mind- they were on his, too. 

“Awh, really?” You asked, shaking your head to snap out of your shocked state, returning back to dice the onion you had been working on before Joel could turn around to see you after finishing hanging up his things in the closet, trying to subtly coax more information out of him. 

“Yeah.” He smiled, joining you in the kitchen, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to his chest for a soft kiss to greet you, “The family we’re startin’ the bathroom reno for just moved in. Had their first baby a few months ago and just hadn’t had time to work on fixin’ things.” 

“So they’re already putting the baby to work with you and Tommy?” You teased, raising an eyebrow at Joel playfully, giving him a quick peck back on the lips as he laughed at your sass. 

“Cheap labor.” Joel shrugged back, playing into the joke, “Nah, she woke up from her nap while Tommy and I were runnin’ through some measurements so her mom brought her out for the last lil bit we were there. She was damn cute, too. Just smilin’ and laughin’ at everything.” 

You were glad Joel’s arm was still wrapped around your hip, because you were convinced if it wasn’t, you were about to melt to the floor into a puddle, watching how soft and sweet Joel was talking about a cute, smiling baby. 

“Well a cute baby definitely sounds like a very nice perk of being on the job.” You smirked, trying to play it cool enough to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest. 

“Yeah.” Joel replied softly, quietly pausing for a moment, watching the gears turning in his brain, carefully calculating his words before he spoke. 

“You okay?” You asked, looking up at Joel, knowing your husband well enough that he had something on his mind he was trying to work up the confidence to spit out. 

Joel looked back down at you, big brown eyes locking with yours as his grip around your waist tightened ever so slightly, tongue swiping against his plush bottom lip as he took a long, deep breath in and slow exhale out.  

“Honey, what is it?” You asked again, now slightly concerned with how nervous your husband looked in his stoic silence, reaching up to gently wrap your fingers around his arm, thumb stroking his skin. 

“I want one.” 

You froze, worried that your heart may have actually stopped as you looked at Joel, making sure that you had really just heard what he had said. 

“W-what?” 

“I want one. A baby. I- I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked about it, but I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot, and seein’ that baby today, it just- shit, I just couldn’t stop picturin’ what it would be like to have one of our own I guess.” 

If you weren’t a puddle before, you sure as fuck were now.  

An overwhelming sensation of nerves and excitement began thrumming through your veins, your heart beat pounding in your ears as your face grew warm and a smile started to spread between your cheeks. You were almost certain you had to be dreaming, asking again to make sure that someone needed to come and wake you up and send you back to reality. 

“Joel… Really?” 

“Yeah, really. Nothin’ I want more. I know I ain’t gonna even be close to the perfect dad, but I know you’ll be sucha good mom, and I’ll be damned if I don’t want some tiny lil versions of us runnin’ around. Couldn’t think of anything that would make me happier than that. Like I said, I know that we ain’t talked about in a while, and if ya aren’t ready yet that’s okay but I-” 

Before Joel could even finish the rest of his thought, you were pressing up to plant your lips to his with passionate intensity, hands roaming up his chest before cupping his jaw and the scratchy stubble of his cheeks while your stomach flipped with arousal and want, already feeling a damp patch beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear. 

You pulled away, kisses traveling along his jawline and up his neck until you were nipping at his ear, the hot breath of your words whispering against his skin. 

“You wanna make a baby, Joel Miller?” 

“Fuck-” Joel groaned, reaching his other arm around you grab at your ass, pulling you in tight enough to feel the bulge beginning to grow under the denim of his worn jeans, pressing against your thigh.

“‘Cause there’s nothing that I want more than to make you a daddy.” You smirked, looking up to watch Joel’s eyes darken with lust, jaw going slack as a low groan rumbled in his chest, his once half hard cock now fully erect and straining against his zipper, trying to keep from giggling watching your husband try to string together any sort of thoughts to speak. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ-” He moaned, running his hand over his face to try and regain his composure to keep from busting right then and there. “You- fuck, you sure, baby?” 

“Mhmmmm. Don’t think I’ve ever been so sure of anything in my whole life. So sure,” you paused, softly pressing your lips to his between words, “that I think we should go make one right now.” 

Your adamant confirmation was all it took to set off something almost animalistic in Joel, crashing his lips back into yours in a messy clash of tongues and teeth, gripping his hands under your thighs to hoist you up around his hips and lock your legs behind the small of his back. Without ever letting your mouths part, Joel was already halfway to the bedroom before you had even realized it, playfully giggling at how frantically he was carrying you down the hallway, your bodies bumping against the walls and door frames, too focused on desperate and needy kisses for any sort of spatial awareness. 

Finally reaching your bed, Joel carefully laid you down, letting your back fall into the mattress, leaving your lower half to hang off the edge before your husband was on his knees, settling himself between your parted thighs. 

You sat up on your elbows, watching as Joel tightened his grip around the meat of your legs, peppering kisses up the inside of each across your soft skin before coming face to face with your core, planting another soft kiss there before letting his fingers ghost over your heat, still covered by your jeans. 

He rapidly worked at the button of your pants, shuffling them down off your hips to reveal your underwear, now absolutely soaked with arousal from the prospect alone of Joel knocking you up and carrying his baby. 

“Jesus Christ, baby girl, look at ‘cha.” Joel tutted, admiring how the cotton of your underwear clung to the outline of your cunt, sticking to the puffy and swollen lips of your pussy from how wet you were. “Haven’t even touched ya yet. This all for me, darlin’?” 

Just as you began to try and answer, Joel took one of his fingers, barely dragging it over the damp fabric before beginning to rub soft circles over your covered clit, eliciting a pathetic whimper from you at the electric sensation.  

“F-fuck- It’s all for you, b-baby.” You stammered, moaning even louder as a second finger joined the first, pressing more pressure into you sensitive nub as he nudged each of your legs to drape over his shoulders, his free hand tugging at the waistband of your underwear, making you instinctually lift your hips as he yanked them off your legs to crumple in a messy pile with your pants. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen.” Joel mewled, running his fingers up and down through the weeping seams of your folds, toying with your entrance while draping his arm across your hips to hold your squirming lower half in place. “Wants me to fuck her full of me and fill her up so bad, huh?” 

“P-please, Joel. Want you to fill me up so badly.” You whimpered, staring down at your husband, a devilish grin spread across his face, licking his lips as his eyes darted back and forth between your blissed out face and the glistening mess between your thighs. 

“I will sweetheart, promise. Gotta taste you first though, baby. Gotta make sure you’re nice n’ready for me. ‘Cause once we start, I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till I knock you up.” 

With that, Joel was diving between your legs, lapping you up in long and firm strokes, pressing against your clit in the way he knew would make you fall apart under his tongue. While he would have loved to have spend hours just like this, making you writhe under his touch, drinking up your arousal like a wandering man parched in the heat of the desert, Joel had one thing on his mind, and one thing only- 

To get you pregnant.   

Joel began to intensify the pace of his tongue, swirling and sucking around your clit as two of his thick fingers pushed into your heat, sliding in and out of your entrance with ease from how wet and worked up you were. Curling his fingers ever so slightly, you cried out as Joel bumped against your g-spot, pushing against the soft, spongy spot as his tongue worked its magic. 

You could feel the arousal shooting through your veins, heat beginning to bloom in your stomach as Joel fucked you with his fingers and mouth, shooting your hand down to grab fistfulls of his thick, brown hair to brace yourself for your impending orgasm. 

“J-Joel, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, I’m c-close. Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.” You whined, pussy beginning to flutter around Joel’s fingers, the tightening only egging him on further to get you to cross the finish line. 

With just a little more pressure of his tongue, Joel could feel your cunt clamping down around his digits, watching the pleasure shoot through your body as you came, your orgasm crashing through you like a tsunami. 

As you reached your high, Joel drank up your arousal, not faltering in his pace, too focused on your pretty cries of his name being chanted like a prayer to do anything but keep going and making you feel good. 

Truth be told, Joel had gotten so lost between your thighs, the only thing stopping him was the tensing feeling between his, so pussy drunk and determined to fuck you full of him that he was worried he was about to cum too if he didn’t stop. 

Pulling off you, Joel frantically stood up, racing to undo his belt and jeans, yanking them down his legs in tandem with his boxers as his cock slapped against his stomach, precum already pearling from his tip, desperate to be inside of you. His shirt quickly followed his pants, ripping it over his head as his broad body caged yours under him, helping you to scoot back on the bed until your head hit the pillows, trailing kisses up and down your body the whole way. 

As Joel kissed and nipped at your skin, you quickly shuffled off your top and bra, leaving you bare beneath him, moaning as his tongue flicked against each of your newly exposed pebbled nipples, grouping your breast and kneading the soft flesh in his palms. 

Even though you had just came, you could already feel your cunt starting to clench around nothing, desperate to feel Joel inside of you, to stretch you out with his thick cock and fuck you until you couldn’t think straight. But with the way your chest was heaving and breath shaking from your orgasm, you could barely muster out the words you wanted. 

“J-Joel, p-please, baby. P-please.” 

You snaked your hand between your bodies to reach for Joel’s cock, wrapping your fingers around his length and swiping your thumb over his leaking tip, a low groan rumbling in his chest as you stroked him, trying to guide him to slide between your legs and ease your ache. 

Lowering his hips, you moved your hand and let his replace it, Joel pumping himself a few times before guiding his tip between your folds, collecting your slick to coat his cock, using every last ounce of self-control he had as his eyes locked with yours, wanting to see your face as he pushed inside you. 

“Please, what, darlin’?” Joel teased, knowing damn well what you were begging for. 

“Need to feel you, Joel. Need you to put a baby in me.” You moaned, reaching up to grab his face, your palm rubbing against his stubble as your fingers tugged on the curls at the nape of his neck. 

With one more pump, Joel lined himself up with your entrance, sliding into your heat, the sweet stretch and sting of his length making the breath hitch in the back of your throat, filling you up inch by inch until he bottomed out inside you with his tip just kissing your cervix. 

Joel couldn’t help but smirk as he watched your mouth fall open, parted lips letting a soft moan escape while your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head at the newfound sensation, giving you another moment to adjust before he began to slowly roll his hips, dragging his cock in and out of your core. 

“Christ, baby girl, so wet and tight. Like this pussy was made just for me. Made for me to fuck ya full of me until it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ take.” Joel groaned, reaching down to grab your thighs, pinning your knees to your chest, stretching you open to take Joel even deeper, practically feeling him in your stomach with the position he had you in. 

“Joel, oh my god- fuck, you feel so good. Fuck, baby. Want you to fill me up so bad.” You whimpered, Joel now beginning to pick up his pace as he thrust in and out of you, continually punching in that perfect spot over and over again, leaving your brain bordering on short circuiting. 

Joel’s fingertips dug deeper into the flesh of your thighs, pushing your legs down just far enough to be chest to chest with you, the sweat dampened curls of his forehead brushing against yours as your mouths met in an electric kiss, catching each other’s muffled moans with each snap of Joel’s hips. 

“Yeah, sweetheart? Want me to fill you up? Fuck a baby into you? Let everyone see what a pretty momma you are, carryin’ our kid?” Joel grunted, picturing you, months from now, belly round and tits swollen, pregnant with your baby, wondering how many you’d let him give you, because fuck, he’d keep knocking you up until he had nothing left to give. 

Each push and pull of your bodies against each other felt more and more electric, an undeniable coil tightening in your stomach with the way Joel was pounding into you and the hairs at the base of his cock were brushing against your clit, already feeling yourself beginning to teeter on the brink of pleasure once again. 

“Yes, fuck, fuck- yes, Joel. I wanna have your baby. Want you to knock me up so I can make you a daddy. Please, baby, please.” You were all but sobbing at this point, your fingers digging into the tan and sweat sheened skin of Joel’s broad shoulders, overwhelmed by the lewd combinations of Joel’s heavy pants in your ear and wet squelching of your pussy as his pelvis flushed against yours repeatedly. 

Joel could feel you beginning to tighten around him, pussy sucking him in with its warmth and wetness, ready to clamp around his cock and milk him for all he was worth. 

“That’s it, darlin’, I know you’re close. Gotta cum for me first though, baby girl. Gotta feel ya soak me before I stuff ya so full of me, I swear t’god, you’ll be drippin’ outta me for days. So fuckin’ full that I’ll get you pregnant right now.” Joel groaned through gritted teeth, leaning back to reach and grab your leg, wrapping it around the small of his back before you lifted your other to join it, locking your ankles to keep him as close to you as possible. 

“Joel, oh my god, fuck baby, fuck, I’m gonna- fuckfuckfuck-” 

Suddenly, your orgasm was rushing through every inch of you, crying out as the pleasure hit you like a freight train, choking Joel’s cock with your pussy, unable to do anything but relish in the white hot bliss that had you nearly floating out of your own body. 

While Joel would have kept fucking you until the sun went down, the truth was he was relieved to feel you cum, spending every second since your agreement in the kitchen trying to keep from finishing until he was balls deep inside you and you were soaking his cock as you reached your high. The realization that now was his chance to make good on his promise, to fill you up and fuck a baby into you, ignited something primal, feral, in him, pounding into you at a punishing pace as he could feel himself teetering on the brink of collapse right with you. 

“That’s my girl. That’s it, cum all over my cock, baby. Shit, I’m gonna cum too, fuck- gonna fill this tight lil pussy up so goddamn much, give you a baby, make you a momma, oh fuck!” 

With one final stutter of his hips, Joel let out a strangled moan, flushing his hips against yours as he milked himself of every last drop, painting your warm, wet walls with hot ropes of his spend, making sure nothing went to waste. 

He couldn’t help but but press even further into you, plugging you with his length and fucking his cum as deep as he could into your cunt to make sure it took, collapsing on top of you with his cock still buried in your heat, letting your chests heave together in sync as you both caught your breath. 

Joel was convinced he had never cum so much in his entire life, afraid that if he pulled out, that somehow he’d have more left to give, and sure as fuck wasn’t going to risk letting anything coming out of him end up not inside of you. 

Well, not until your muffled grunt rumbled beneath him. 

 “Joel, baby, I love you but you’re kinda squishing me.” You huffed, giggling to yourself as you watched your husband come-to in real time out of his post-orgasmic state, immediately offering a half muttered apology as he rolled off you, sitting back on his knees to admire the shiny and slick mess between your legs. 

“Fuck me…” Joel murmured to himself, eyes wide as he stared at your pussy- wet, puffy and soaking with your arousal, bringing his fingers to your spent hole as he watched a dribble of his cum begin to leak out. Gently scooping it up, he collected everything he could, pressing it back into your cunt before pulling his hand out. Crawling up the bed to lay next to you, Joel wrapped you up in his arms as the little spoon, peppering ticklish kisses over your back and shoulders, making you burst into laughter. 

“Joel, stop! That tickles!” You squealed, squirming in his grasp, trying to defend yourself from his unrelenting attack of soft, plush lips and scratchy beard dancing across your skin. 

“Don’t laugh so damn hard, or all my hard work’s ‘bout to come out!” Joel teased, giving you a playful nudge, pulling you in even closer. 

“Stop making me laugh, then! Plus, I think you came enough to put quadruplets inside of me, so I think we’ll be okay.” You snorted, Joel joining in on the laughter. 

“Baby, I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard in my whole goddamn life.” Joel sighed, shrugging as you rolled your head up to look at him and that stupid goofy grin he got whenever he couldn’t contain his excitement about something. “God, I love you.” 

“I love you too, Joel.” 

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, Joel slowly bringing his arm to rest across your stomach, thumb slowly tracing careful circles on your skin. 

“You’re gonna make such a good mom. I’m the luckiest man alive that you wanna have a family with me. Still not really sure what I ever did to deserve it.” 

“Joel! You’re gonna make me cry! And this is before pregnancy hormones, ya jerk.” You tried to laugh, choking back the tears welling in your eyes. 

“Yeah, what a jerk, your husband tellin’ you how much he loves you.” He teased back, planting a long kiss on your temple, before pressing another one to your lips. Another wave of soft silence followed, watching Joel’s face scrunch in a calculated concentration. “How big of a crib you think I gotta make? I don’t know ‘bout a rockin’ chair, but a crib can’t be that hard. I gotta measure the guest room tomorrow.” 

“Honey, I don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet, you don’t need to have a crib built tomorrow.” You teased, laughing at Joel, despite the fact his mind was already thinking about a baby room and accessories had you melting. 

“Sweetheart, what did I say earlier? I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till we know there’s a baby in there.” He smirked, nodding at his hand still splayed across your stomach, “So you better get comfortable, ‘cause if it’s up to me, there ain’t a chance in hell we’re gettin’ anything but a positive pregnancy test at the end of this month, and we'll sure need that crib nine months from now. Never hurts to get a head start."

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[yesimwriting]

Midway

a/n a small-ish fic of someone comforting aegon bc i feel bad for him 😭

Summary: You did not choose to be Aegon's wife, and yet you seem to be the only one choosing to be there for him during his recovery.

Warnings/info: forced marriage turned to awkward, subtle pining masquerading as uneasy friendship, vague descriptions of life threatening injuries, canon compliant incest (reader is rhaenyra's daughter)

read part 2 here: A Matter of Timing

----

Hushed whispers, as stale and sterile as the fresh gauze being stretched and pulled taut against his skin. The rasp of his breathing scrapes at the air that manages to pull itself into your own lungs.

"It is..." Alicent stalls, her gaze never leaving her eldest son, "A lot, I know." Her eyes are wide, glossier than you've ever seen them. An odd sort of empathy presses itself against your chest, making a full breath feel like even more of a fantasy.

Your sympathies and courteously vague expressions of understanding and mutual hurt are things Alicent has no use for. She's tolerated you like an inherited dress that doesn't quite fit, only begrudgingly acknowledging you when surrounded by family.

These days, her barely there tolerance for you has grown even weaker, considering the reports your handmaid had delivered to you of Alicent's attempts to convince the council to lock you away after your mother's retaliation to Aegon's coronation. An imprisonment only prevented by Aegon's command.

She lets out a breath, her attention briefly dropping to the ground before settling on you. "But you are his wife."

A fact she's only come to accept because of your blood. As Rhaenyra's daughter, your marriage had been a compromise, a final attempt at merging a divided family before your grandsire's passing. If your mother had known how quickly Aegon's supporters would have pushed him towards the throne...

You nod your head slowly, dismissing thoughts of yourself. For the first time since your union, the context of your arrangement does not cloud all else. "Yes."

There had been no attempts made to gloss over the extent of Aegon's injuries. For once, the heart of the Red Keep prioritized reality over projecting strength and invulnerability. The maesters had warned you, had detailed the damages left behind by the flames and the fall. An attack strong enough to kill a dragon.

"I um...I tried to visit him earlier, when he first returned." The surprise of your own honesty is an afterthought, a barely there thing attempting to occupy the little space left in your mind. "They said he was not yet stable."

Alicent is silent, some distant quality hollowing her stare as she watches the maester. His movements are succinct, precise as he quietly instructs a maid to bring him a salve left on the table. How many times in these last few days has he gone through this process? How many more times will a maester need to dress Aegon's wounds and rebandage him?

"Stable seems relative." Alicent blinks, her attention returning to what's directly in front of her. She turns to face you. "I trust that you'll sit with him, keep him company after the maester is finished."

Aegon's thoughts on your company have shifted several times throughout the short time you've been married. He often goes through periods of indifference followed by fleeting displays of interest that feel eerily close to companionship. Not quite a friendship or a romance, but something warm and comfortable. Mutual glances shared over supper, peaceful moments in the hall, occasionally crawling into the other's beds at night like children that cannot find sleep on their own.

Some skeptical part of you wonders if Alicent's sudden interest in your wifely responsibilities has more to do with punishing you than caring for Aegon. You doubt she considers you some great source of comfort in her son's life. At least you don't mind the thought of staying here, away from prying eyes and whispers that your privileges within the Red Keep should be restricted until the realm is no longer so divided. "Of course."

She nods once. "There--there is much to be decided upon in Aegon's absence." Alicent lets out a rigid breath. Perhaps Alicent really does want to know that someone's with Aegon. "I should go."

"I will keep him company, your grace."

With that, Alicent spares Aegon a final glance before turning to leave. You remain near the entrance of Aegon's bedchambers, far enough away to not impact the maester and his work.

You watch the process openly. Aegon's burns and other injuries are meticulously cleaned, white cloth stained dark as it is dragged against his skin. Salves and balms are lathered onto his wounds, concoctions meant to promote healing and ward off infection. The final step of the process involves the freshly cleaned wound being rebandaged.

The maester works at an expert pace, treating Aegon's body in sections. Before you know it, he's stepping back to assess the results of his efforts. The maester then looks over at you.

You've never been in a position to be responsible over someone so injured. Are you meant to...dismiss him? Approve his work? Ask something? "Is he..." Well seems like a terrible overstatement. You force yourself to take a few steps forward. "How is he?"

He briefly presses his lips together. "Much more stable than he was previously, your grace. I am afraid that I cannot yet predict much about his recovery. As of now, the priority is preventing infection."

You allow your gaze to fall onto Aegon. There's something about the way he's lying there, immobile and broken and smaller than he should be. "Right. Well, thank you."

The maester nods, "It is my honor, your grace."

He begins to gather his supplies before leaving. At the maester's absence, the maid that had been assisting him turns towards you. "Is there anything you need, your grace?"

You briefly consider sending her out for water or asking her to bring you a book you left in your own apartments. A menial task would ensure her return, which would mean you'd have a temporary reprieve from being alone with Aegon like this. "No, I'm alright. You are free to go."

She nods at the dismissal, "Thank you, my queen."

Queen. The title that belongs to your mother in her own right, not as a position inherited towards marriage.

The girl leaves, her quiet footsteps nearly drowned out by Aegon's unsteady breathing. You watch her until she's disappeared through the doorway, and then for awhile longer. When you can no longer justify your silence, you step forward.

Standing so close to the foot of Aegon's bed tugs at something deep inside of you. He is so still, so without defense. Like this, he does not seem like a man desperate to cement his position, or the person you never wished to be bonded to in this way, or even the only one who you allowed to enter your apartments after news of your brother's death arrived at the Red Keep. Now, he only seems like a boy trapped midway between where he lies and death.

Though bandaged and burned, the entirety of Aegon's features have not been destroyed. The shape of his nose, the part of his lips still familiar. His hair had not been a priority, and while the maester did brush it back to work on him, the disheveled strands have fallen forward again.

You move away from his bed's edge with careful steps. Before you can overthink the act, your hand moves to his forehead. As gently as you can will yourself to, you unplaster the hair stuck to the oily salves on his forehead. Your fingers catch themselves on silvery knots. You begin to pick apart the largest tangles as best as you can without a comb.

It's not an easy task, sweat and product cementing the knots into place. "I'd hate it if no one brushed my hair." The words come out on instinct, the desire to justify your proximity the way you would if he was awake. In all honesty, you're not sure if he can hear you.

The process is slow and clumsy, nails separating strands for you to comb through. Up close like this, you can almost pretend that this is restful for him. He still doesn't look well, but from here you can focus on his shut eyes and parted lips. Your hand drifts away from his hairline, fingertips fluttering over bandages and brushing against unmarred skin.

Something awfully sentimental attempts to claw its way up your throat. "I'll go get a comb." You pull your arm away from him. "I'll--I'll be back, I promise."

You take a single step back before turning your back to him. The maester deemed him stable, which means that he will not spontaneously pass if left alone for a moment. You'll only leave to fetch a comb and maybe a book so that you have something to read aloud. He's never loved your novels, but it's the only way you can think to keep him com--

A soft sound, so gentle and brief you could almost convince yourself you imagined it if it wasn't for the distinctness of the word. Your name.

You stall. Perhaps you misheard something else, maybe a stuttering of his breathing or the room settling. You turn.

He remains unchanged--body in the same position it's been in this entire time and eyes still shut. The supposed whisper should be dismissible.

You step forward, voice fragile as you ask, "Aegon?"

For a moment, pressed between the audible strain between his breaths, a faint optimism pulses through you. Weeks of being a bride, a queen of the realm hated by all those around her, and your only form of protection has, ironically, been the man that's bound you to this place.

The hope fluttering in your stomach quickly morphs into something closer to dread. He is not awake. He is not well enough to call for you or any--a shift, a turn of his outstretched hand so small and inconsequential you likely would not have noticed if it was any less needed.

Ignoring the blurring edges of your vision, you move towards his bedside in quick strides. Without thinking, your hand finds his. "I know that this union is not one you entered willingly. I am also aware of the fact that you know I did not ask for this either." You've not often held Aegon's hand, but now you're glad for his tangibility. "But you--you have not been cruel. You've actually been surprisingly patient, even when I have given you reason not to be."

His palm is warm against yours, the familiarity of it strangely assuring. The few times you've laid together for the sake of duty, the heat of Aegon's skin had been one of the few aspects of the process that you were reluctantly drawn to.

"At times, you have been kind..." You blink in an attempt to dismiss the stinging behind your eyes. "Friendly, even." Your hold on him tightens. "And I miss that. I--I miss our friendship."

The grief in your chest is a hybrid thing, made up just as much out of your empathy and fear as it is by your hurt. It's a sensation so dizzying, you nearly pour your panic out to him. You have to bite your tongue to avoid asking him to not leave you alone here.

Tears are beginning to prick the corner of your eyes when you feel his fingers bend around yours. Aegon squeezes your hand with a barely recognizable force.

He's--he's awake. "Aegon?"

His hold on you does not falter as a faint sigh escapes his lips, a midway of his own.

- - - -

a/n not to offer a part 2 to everything i write but i have an idea for a second fic that’s connected to this so if ur interested lmk :)))

[moongreenlight]

Ghost knocks you up in the back of his truck during a one night stand btw.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

Like you’re a bartender and you’re flirting pretty heavily with him and the rest of the force boys for a good tip because you know their type. He’s not exactly shutting you down but he’s definitely not dogging after you like the others. You shrug it off and figure that three for four still gives you decent odds.

You step out back for a quick break on the top of the hour as things are winding down, promise your coworker you won’t be five minutes. He’s lingering in the workers only smoking area out back because he’s a freak. And you’re a little sussed-out, but he offers his help when you realize you’d left your lighter inside. Tells you he keeps his in the car in an attempt to curb his habit or some shit. Doesn’t matter. You know what he’s really saying.

He guides you with an arm slung loosely around your waist and for some reason you’re inclined to indulge yourself. Live a little. Get some after a months long dry spell that’s left you a little out of your mind. He folds you over the bench seat in the back of his truck in a dark corner of the lot. Leaves your pants bunched around your knees and only unbuttons his own enough to let his cock free.

He doesn’t bother trying to cram himself into the back with you. Given the sheer size of him, you weren’t sure he’d be able to anyway. Leaves the door open and yanks your hips back until he’s lined himself up. Makes quick work of it for both of your sakes, but it exceeds expectations given the circumstance. He comes mostly on the leather under you, but his hips stuttered and you ended with a bit slicking your folds. You cringe when you tug your pants back on you feel some pool in your underwear.

It’s a bit of an awkward walk back, but he makes good on his promise of a light when he sparks the end of your cigarette before walking back around front. You forget about the exchange until about a month later when you finally realize you’ve missed your period by at least a week and a half. You take a test mostly for peace of mind. Even though you didn’t use a condom, you’re decent at remembering to take the pill, so it’s really not heavy on your mind. Not until the test reads positive.

You pull him to the side the next time he comes to the bar and stumble over a hushed delivery of the news. He’s shockingly stoic. Silent for a moment before making some dry remark about how the two of you should probably go to the courthouse and make things official if you want to get his military benefits.

[feyascorner]

Astarion definitely gains a bit of weight when he meets Tav, and he's so proud of it.

He's still lean, but he has a lot more meat on his bones than he did before since Cazador would keep him bordering on starvation to keep him from becoming too powerful. Being with Tav lets him feed on a regular basis, not just from them, but also in battle. He never goes to bed hungry anymore, even if you have the woozy feeling of being bloodless each morning. He doesn't worry about this much in the beginning, but once he becomes more attached to you, he does start to feel a bit---off, to say the least.

"Perhaps I shouldn't drink from you today, darling. You looked tired this morning."

You blink at his words. "I'm okay, though. I was just dizzy for half an hour."

"Precisely. We face a constant threat of death every day," his shoulders sink. "I'd rather my hunger not be the reason you're not at your best and cost you an injury. Even worse, your life."

"Since when do you care about that?"

He doesn't know. He doesn't know when he started to rely on your presence each night, or when his eyes naturally drew to you even amidst a battlefield, but it's too late to ponder on that now. He's not sure what you are to him, but he knows you can't die. Not as long as he remains on the face of Faerun.

"Since today."

It's been weeks, actually, but he doesn't mention that.

You eye him inquisitively before shaking your head. "You don't have to worry about things like that."

"But--"

"Drinking my blood also makes you more powerful, no? If you didn't have me to drink from, you're also more likely to get hurt," you reply, baring your neck. "It goes both ways."

"I'm immortal, if I'm careful-"

You hush him. He doesn't need to say it out loud for you to understand what he's saying. "I want to keep you safe too."

With a hesitant pause, Astarion finds himself offering you a grin that's a tad less perfect than it usually is. You offer him one back, and he lowers his lips to your neck, gently placing his hands around his waist and mouthing the skin on your throat. He hopes it soothes the pain, if anything.

He decides then that he'll use the strength you give him to repay you for the kindness he most certainly does not deserve.

[archiverstappen]

the cat sitter (part 15) ✧ max verstappen

max verstappen x fem! reader

previous part | masterlist

loosely inspired by the story on how max lost his cat

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maxverstappen1 🐈

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landonorris Never beating the crazy cat lady allegations

danielricciardo 😍

yourusername i miss you ed, edd, and eddy. gone... but never forgotten 😿

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bffusername so is this the reason why you always take so long on your dates? because y/n can’t resist touching every single cat on the streets? [deleted]

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maxverstappen1 More passion, more energy ❄️

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--

author's notes: eden the scammer is back after 2 months guys, so sorry for making you guys wait too long (and giving you guys false hope) 👹 really hope you guys liked this one hehe, i also take additional request for tcs!! (but as you probably know, it's gonna take me 8273 years to finally post it). there are some references from my lando series in this part, so if you're interested you can also check it out 😙 LOVE YOUUUWWW, now i will hibernate for another 5 months 🤸‍♀️

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[plasticferal]

hey queen! can you pls do an angst story with chris. where they get into an argument and chris said things he never meant. then he apologizes to her afterwards. ( basically angst to fluff)

damsel in distress | chris sturniolo.

i added my own twist to this ask. it's my favourite prompt so thank you! 18+ protective!ex-boyfriend chris x fem!reader. fighting, touches on themes of unwanted attention, mentions of alcohol, explicit language. reader discretion is advised. p.s inspired by the unreleased olivia rodrigo song 'prison for life'.

the house is filled with familiar faces and strangers. a small gathering turned into a full blown house party from the moment the word got out. where the sturniolo triplets are, a flock follows. you sigh, pushing and shoving your way through the unwanted crowd.

all you want is to make it into the kitchen, miraculously being the only place no one wants to linger. the last person you need to see right now is your ex lover. chris is standing ahead of you, leaning on the kitchen counter, alone in the room. you shut the doors behind you, needing to escape. even if it means with him.

“if you wanted to get me alone, you could have just asked." he speaks smug, before taking a sip from his red solo cup.

“i'm not in the mood,” you dismiss. you open the fridge, eyes scanning the shelves but nothing calling your name.

you know you're not actually looking for anything, you just don't want to look at him. the entire night has you shaking with anger. from the mess in your home, the lack of care everyone is taking, the noise complaint you know you'll be getting later, and worst of all, that one guy who won't leave you alone.

you've never seen him before tonight, you don't even know his name, but all he's done is make you uncomfortable. try to dance with you, try to give you drinks. he brushes your waist every time he walks past.

all of your friends have been encouraging you to go for it, to get over chris. and honestly, you consider it for a moment. just to finally move on, but you can't bring yourself to. at least not with some random creep.

the break up is still raw. he tells everyone it was 'mutual' but it was a part on your request. he'd never throw you under the bus like that. he knows why you made your decision, he's never questioned it.

chris feels like it's unrequited love. although, you haven't lost any love for him, no matter how much you try to push him away. he has every right to despise you, but he doesn't.

every time you close a chapter with him, you find yourself in a sequel. it's like you're re-reading different stories, but the ending stays the same. your heart wants him, your brain wants to hate him.

"what's wrong?" he asks, sensing you're genuine in your frustration.

"nothing." you refuse to let him know what's happing in your world, let alone your mind. you don't need to let in him anymore, even though you want to let it out. he's the one person who could just sit and listen to you for hours on end.

"alright, just askin" his words trail off into a hush. he switches the tone, not wanting the conversation to stop.

“your friends are nice” he speaks in a sickeningly sweet tone, because if anyone knows how to kick you while you're down, it's him.

"you would think that" you scoff, implying that you've seen them throw themselves at him all night. him pouring them drinks, smiling and frothing over the attention he's receiving.

"the fuck is that supposed to mean?" his temperamental side seeps out, and you grow only more irritated.

"chris, can you get out please?" you huff, hands crossing over your chest. an unintentional way to seperate yourself from him, a metaphorical wall being put up.

"such a party pooper. you really gotta let loose, relax a bit." his words come out a lot more nasty that you hope he meant them, and it makes your face hot.

you give him the benefit of the doubt and think he's speaking with resilience, at the fact you keep shutting him down.

"i wonder why we ever broke up." you reply sarcastically, a fake smile on your face. he rolls his eyes, finishing off his drink and letting out an audible "ah," like a child finishing a juice box.

"i haven't seen you all night, y/n" his voice softens, and it becomes clear he's speaking for the sake of talking to you. he always wants to talk to you.

looking at the counter quickly to place his cup down, he looks back at you, tilting his head to the side slightly. he's not being horrible to you, he never has been. he's still in your life whether you like it or not, despite your hostility.

"sorry. i'm just tired." you lie. he knows it.

"your poker face isn't very good. i learnt that the hard way," he bounces his eyebrows, biting the tip of his tongue, eyes a bit wider as he stares at the ground and you can tell he's having a flashback.

you chuckle at the reference. the one time he caught you faking an orgasm didn't end very well, and he's been able to catch you out ever since. he's never been afraid to pull you up on your own fibs.

"sorry, again." you hug your body tighter, avoiding his eyes. he pushes himself off the counter with a stretch like hum and walks over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

"stop apologizing, you sound like matt," he rolls his eyes lightheartedly, and you let out a small laugh. that's always his intention, to make you smile.

"c'mon princess, let's get you a drink. seems like you need it." he nods toward to the door, rubbing your shoulder enthusiastically.

you let him try to fix your mood, because god knows you do actually need to stop stressing. you can't control what happens, just how you react. that's what chris always used to say when you were together.

feeling safe in his embrace, he security guard style moves you through the party. he hollers "excuse me!" and "coming through!" and everyone just listens, parting like the red sea. he's not the biggest guy in the room, but he sure is the most assertive. especially with you under his arm.

when you finally get to the drinks table, he makes you a vodka lemonade, saving the rest of the can for himself to finish off. it's not the most thrilling drink, but enough to keep you settled. ease the tension a bit. plus, it tastes good. no harm, no foul. as chris is mixing the liquids into cups, you feel an unwanted hand snake up around your hip.

"there you are. are you hiding from me?" your stomach drops at the voice of the mystery man towering over you, and you look ahead to watch chris's eyes snap up instantly.

chris lowers the cups, holding his eyes on the man behind you. you watch as he kinks his neck and his jaw tenses, taking a step closer. you shake your head at chris, holding a hand up subtly to tell him not to come any closer.

turning around, you stare up at the man. his breath reeks of liquor, and his shirt is drenched is sweat. it makes you sour your face and tense your entire body.

"i don't know what you want from me, but it's not gonna happen. i think you should leave." you speak sternly, trying not to let your voice shake with pure nerves. not even liquid confidence could help you right now.

"the party's just getting started," the man smiles, stumbling toward you in what you think is an attempt at a hug, but you begin pushing his body away from yours with a shove.

"dude, she doesn't want you. walk away." you hear chris's direct voice over your shoulder.

the last thing you want is negative attention on chris in a room full of people who would spread the news like wildfire. you never want that for him.

"it's okay, i got this." you dismiss chris in the nicest possible way, but you're being serious.

"come on, we'll have fun," the man hiccups through his words, mumbling them and tripping over toward you again.

"get the fuck away from her." chris's breath hits the back of your neck as he moves even closer to you.

"christopher, i'm serious. stop." you speak through grit teeth, so people can't read your lips, as he lingers next to you.

you try to be as inconspicuous as you can in your rejection to his advances, but he won't give up. the man appears more annoyed, and he grabs your wrist with a tight grip.

"let go of me." you grab the mans hand, trying to pry his grip without making it obvious.

you’re shaking at the thought of attention drawing. not for you, but for chris. eyes are already on you, being his ex. it's not what he ever wanted for you either. if he could make it all disappear, he would. it becomes more difficult when chris notices, and this time, has no intention of backing down.

"i'm not gonna repeat myself, back the fuck up." chris walks around your body, face to face with the guy who has a hold on you now.

"please, chris." you beg, voice quivering.

you know his temper can change in the blink of an eye. him and matt both have that in common.

"she doesn't need your help, pretty boy." the man splatters his words, a malicious smile on his face as he leans toward chris, almost nose to nose.

chris smiles criminally, flashing his teeth.

"you're right," chris puts his hands up in defence, a downward smile on his face as he chuckles darkly, taking a big step backward.

there's a feeling of relief, and intense fear as he actually does start to back away. but you know chris. unfortunately, it's unavoidable.

you try to catch his eyes, and speak through a begging stare without using words. he looks at you with sadness, and you mime the words, 'please don't'.

the moment the man tugs your wrist as if to leave with him, making you wince with the grip he holds. you regret your counteraction instantly, because chris reacts viscerally.

he flares his nostrils and squeezes his nails into his palm, balling up his hands by his hip. his knuckles are turning white.

before you can get pulled away, chris lunges forward with a tight fist, throwing a strong, perfectly aligned punch to the mans cheekbone. it throws the man to the ground in the blink of an eye, relieving the pressure on your skin. you stumble backwards, out of the line of fire.

chris steps heavily forward, shoving a foot into his ribcage before straddling his legs, completely overpowering him. the man projects forward to swing and hit chris's mouth. chris doesn't even flinch, like it was painless. you watch chris raise his arm up again to pummel down onto the now defenceless stranger.

the surrounding crowd gasps and yells, clearing the space that chris has created with his actions. iphone cameras flash, making you feel sick. the whispering and gossip you can already hear pounding in your head is overwhelming.

you feel so futile. chris is too in his own world to even realise the repercussions. you're not saying the guy didn't deserve it, you have no care in the world for him. you care about the aftermath.

in a fantasy world, a daydream, a fairytale even, this is attractive. a knight in shining armour, fighting for his lady. a world where there are no consequences, or social media, or fear. a reality chris has suddenly forgotten about.

he looks natural doing it, too. the veins in his arms so prominent, his tight mouth and huffed breaths as he gives it everything he's got.

you're frozen in shock, watching chris pelt another punch into the man, and you want to pull him off, you know you need to, but all your body can do is watch. watch the two men roughhousing and exchanging blows, chris taking every hit with pride.

you're numb to the feeling, screaming in your head.

appearing out of thin air, nick and matt are in your line of vision, hiding the chaos ahead of you. his brothers move into action before anyone else needs to.

they've obviously been summoned, but there's a part of you that believes they could just sense it. like they telepathically knew chris was getting himself into trouble by the lack of surprise they express.

nick grabs chris by the collar of his shirt, pulling him off. matt grabs his wrists, to stop him from using his fists. the fight comes undone, finally, but chris is disoriented. he spits onto the man as he's being escorted into the kitchen by his brothers.

your eyes burn with tears that refuse to fall, and matt sweeps your hand up, guiding you with them in a hurried manner. matt is trying to snap you back to reality, but it's just white noise.

chris hits his palm aggressively with frustration against the door frame of the kitchen as you all walk through, and you take a deep breath to compose yourself. your eyes are still welling as you choke back a sniffle, and you're not sure if it's shock, hurt, or anger anymore.

you're in a trance as you walk over to the freezer. your body is in autopilot, moving without you even knowing. you grab a frozen bag of vegetables out of the tray.

"so fucking stupid," you say nastily under your breath, slamming the door shut.

walking over to chris who's sat up on the ledge of the sink. you throw the packet at his chest, and he grabs it, questioning you for a second before matt walks over and shows him to place it on his bruised and red raw knuckles.

the room is filled with tension.

matt is biting his nails, you're leaning against the closed door, and nick finds himself squatting on the floor.

"what the actual fuck was that?" nick is too stunned to even yell, he just speaks aloud.

"i asked you not to, chris. i could have handled it myself." you shake your head, vision blurry as you stare vacantly ahead. you want to lash out at him, but for some reason you can't.

"yeah, it really looked like you had it under control." he crushes the frozen packet harshly against his hand.

"we'll leave you two alone." matt cuts through awkwardly, shooting nick a warning glare.

matt knows it's not his place to go off at chris right now. he'll do that later.

"but-" nick begins, and matt snaps toward the door. you hear nick sigh, knowing he would love nothing more than to stay and listen to you tear into chris. alas, they both leave promptly, matt flashing you a sympathetic smile on the way out.

you can hear from the other side of the door, both nick and matt are hustling trying to kick everyone out. it’s a weight lifted off your shoulders. the literal mess being left behind is the least of your worries now.

you're alone with chris in the kitchen again, the second time not being anymore pleasant than the first. you blame yourself fully for dropping your guard, even if for a second.

“i begged you not to, chris.” you repeat with a stern tone, laced with betrayal and genuine hurt.

he’s silent for a moment, staring at you from across the room with no emotion on his face. you know he feels terrible, he doesn’t have to show it. or tell you.

“did you think i was just gonna stand and watch?” he rebuttals.

“i would have preferred that, honestly.” you don’t understand how he can’t grasp the intensity of the situation.

"did you want him? go back out there then." he's bitter, pointing at the door. you roll your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief.

"chris," you start. he keeps talking.

“because i’m sure he’s still laying on the floor. go ahead. he might have a hard time talking now, though.” chris shrugs, speaking in a provoking manner.

“you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t press charges." you apprise.

“he should feel lucky i didn’t do worse.” he takes another step toward you, presumptuous in the way he carries himself.

"you've done a lot of stupid shit, chris. but that," you raise your hand as you speak, laughing in shock.

"that was unbelievable." you pinch the bridge of your nose, taking yet another deep breath.

"you know what's unbelievable is how you haven't even thanked me once" he ignores your words and bites back with irritation, face growing more twisted with upset.

"thank you?" you repeat, jaw dropping. you step toward him this time. you feel dejected trying to get him to understand.

"thank you for what? for causing a scene? for putting yourself in danger?" you step forward again, feeling like you could drive your heels into the ground beneath you.

"you're acting insane" he brings his hands to his head, tugging at his own hair with despair. his words sting, despite the back and forth arguing.

"you're the one that lashed out on that guy with no consideration for anyone else around you. that's insane" you speak with physical gestures unconsciously.

you're trying to reason with him, but with the state he's in, it's like trying to put a brain in a statue. you examine him, trying to search for his eyes but his body won't keep still, twisting and moving around.

"fuck, okay, i get it! i get it, y/n. you're not happy with me. you never fucking are apparently," his words trail off and he waves you away, turning his back to you. he sounds desperate for it to end.

you want to scream at him at the top of your lungs, and quite frankly, you could. your face burns and steam is about to shoot out of your ears.

"you don't need to protect me anymore, chris."

"i saved your ass out there." he speaks with his hand, four fingers direct to your chest. his words are like salt being rubbed into an open wound.

"saved me? that's a fucking stretch. your brothers saved your ass, because you don't think before you fucking act!"

"this is about YOU, y/n! what i did for you!" he slaps the back of right hand into the palm of his left.

"i'm not some damsel in distress that you need to sweep up and put in a tower, chris"

"yeah well at least in a tower you can't attract trouble." he speaks as if it's your fault, and of all the things he's just spit out, that's by far the worst. the most menacing and cut to the bone tone he's used.

"that was low, even for you." you huff, emotions at an all time high.

your breathing feels tight, but instead of reacting, you force yourself to seperate your emotions from the reality of the situation. you're both feeling very intensely, and expressing it the same way.

in hindsight, you could have redirected some of your emotions, but you also wish chris would take back some things he's said. there's no excuses.

chris re-collects himself and turns toward you again. he shrugs his shoulders, like he has nothing left to say. no fight left.

the closer chris is standing the more prominent his face is, and more specifically, his busted open lip.

you gasp in a mix of being upset, and shock. it feels like a piece of your heart is breaking off, seeing his delicate, pale skin so sore.

"your lip, chris." you exhale, stepping toward him.

he flinches when your hand raises to touch his face, and you know now that you've acknowledged it, it's hurting him. neither of you paid any attention to it amongst the turmoil.

"come here." you sigh, pulling his arm, bringing him over to where the paper towels are, in the corner of the sink.

tearing a white square into your hands, you rinse it under cold water lightly before squeezing the saturation out, leaving a damp cloth in your hand.

turning into chris's body, he looks down at you. he's still at last, and looks like he has no thoughts behind his now seemingly innocent eyes.

you cup his cheek gently, to turn his face downward. you bring the towel up to his lip, wiping his stained chin and mouth. he lets you, and doesn't even wince. he visibly gives into your touch. he's content.

"i need you to promise me you'll never do something like that again." you pull back, folding over a clean side and then wiping his lip softly, trying not to cause him pain.

"i can't promise that." he speaks in a whisper, as if he doesn't want you to hear his word.

with his lip no longer being red, you toss the damp and crumbling paper into sink, making it a problem for another time.

"why?" you look into his eyes, wiping your hands on your shirt.

his blue eyes are big but blameless, pupils dilated. holding his stare as your arm lowers.

"because if anyone lays a hand on you again, i'm going to prison for life." the piece of your heart that broke off earlier reattaches at his words alone.

chris's much shorter hair is spikey around his ears, and wet at the ends, turning dark brown from his sweat. you caress his messy curls, tucking it over the curves of his ears and taming the wispy strands. you hold his head in your hands, tiling him up and your mouths are inches apart.

"how hard did he hit your head?" you ask against his lips. he chuckles, genuinely.

he's an idiot, undeniably. but the gut wrenching, lawless love he has for you makes him that way. his low, smooth laughter, makes your heart skip a beat.

"i mean it, y/n."

"but i know, i know it was stupid." he admits.

"yeah, it was." you agree, shaking his head around slightly.

he grabs your hands with his own, engulfing them and holding them in his palms. he squeezes your hands, bringing them to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

"i'm sorry." he speaks on your skin.

"like really fucking sorry." he strains his head back with remorse, making his adam's apple more prominent, and he swallows hard. like he's swallowing his guilt.

"i said some nasty things. i wish i could take them back, y/n. i really do."

"i know, chris."

"no, you don't. i'll apologise to you everyday for the rest of my life if i have to. i've been horrible tonight."

"chris, enough," you hush him, the calmness in your tone making him understand you hear him. loud and clear. you need some time to forgive, but you absorb his words.

"i don't know how you didn't smack me in the mouth." he jokes, and you giggle through your breath.

"there's still time," you joke back. and he knows it by your tone.

"i could never bring myself to do that. as much as you deserve it." your banter eases the pressure, and you feel chris squeeze your hands in his again.

you rub your thumbs over his knuckles, looking at the little purple marks forming. he notices your face drop with stress, and he slips his hands away, moving to your hips instead.

"hey, i'm fine. i don't care what happens to me, i just need you to be okay."

"i am okay," you reply. he drops his face with a look that expresses he doesn’t believe you. you give a light eyeroll, and small smile.

"i mean it, i swear.” you raise your pinkie finger to him, to keep your promise. knowing it’s the only way he’ll actually believe you.

chris smiles, weak with his bruised lip, and wraps up your pinkie with his own, wriggling your hands around.

"i'm always gonna want to protect you." he pulls you toward his body. he's so warm, and radiates a magnetic energy that makes you want to collapse into his arms.

you know you don't need him to, but deep down, you would like his protection. his unconditional love. selflessness.

"i'll be sure to send you love letters in jail" you grin up at him, and laughs from the chest.

his voice is like a scratched record, fatigue taking over his body. you swallow hard, all of your senses coming back. he feels so real standing in front of you all of a sudden, like it's not just a dream you're about to wake up from.

"stay the night." you speak mindlessly.

chris brushes your hair from your face, cupping the back of your neck lightly to pull your forehead to his lips, kissing just above your eyebrows gently. he rests his chin on the crown of your head, pulling you tight to his chest in an embrace.

"i'll stay forever if you ask me to."

this is the feeling he fights for. requited love.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Gone V

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Morsa has to go

Things have been a little weird in the house.

Momma and Morsa...They're not quite arguing but they've been having a lot of what Frido says are 'heated discussions'. You don't quite understand what that means but you know it's the reason why they're a bit huffy and puffy with each other.

They're still happy with you though and that's all that matters.

They have their silly little heated discussions but still give you big smiles and big kisses and big cuddles together at bedtime.

You glance behind you, at where they're snuggled up on the sofa together and nod.

Good.

They're being nice to each other again and you turn to look back at your show with a little smirk.

Pernille smiles at you as you turn back around, watching as you wiggle your little toes happily while watching your cartoon.

She knows you've noticed the underlying tension between her and Magda. She knows you've picked up on it, a little bit confused by all the hushed conversations and cold shoulders between your mothers.

Pernille's future has been a load of question marks for a while. Chelsea's been knocking on her door, banging on it really. They were practically frothing at the mouth to sign her but she's been pushing them back for a while now.

Not for herself.

She knows that Chelsea would be good for her. Time in the English league would develop her skills further and Chelsea have been on the up and up for a while now.

But you're the only thing keeping Pernille from signing on the dotted line.

Your life is in Germany and at Wolfsburg where you insist on wearing the shirt to every practice and speak German like you were born to do it.

Pernille isn't sure how you would cope with such a big move so suddenly and so early on in your life.

You're happy in Germany with her and this little apartment where you know the exact route to training and your favourite park is two minutes down the road.

Germany is all you know.

Magda's on the side of coming to Chelsea, of uprooting your whole life to move to England where the three of you can finally all live together.

Pernille wants that too but not at the expense of your happiness.

The conversation has been tabled though, at least for today because it's Magda's last before she gets back on a flight to leave again this evening.

You're content on the floor in front of them until Magda gets up off the sofa to grab her suitcase. You watch closely as she unzips it and goes to retrieve some of her clothes from the laundry.

You frown, toddling over to sit yourself in the bag.

You give Pernille a triumphant look as you wiggle around to get comfortable, throwing out some of Magda's t-shirts and trousers.

"What are you doing?" Pernille laughs, getting up to refold the clothes so they can all fit again.

"Morsa not goin'," You answer," Big bag for when she goes. Can't use big bag if I'm in it."

Pernille chuckles, lifting you up easily and setting you down further away. "You know Morsa needs to go," She says," She plays in London."

You stick your tongue out. "Nu-uh!"

Pernille sticks her tongue out right back at you. "Uh-huh! You know she does."

"Morsa not goin' now," You insist," Won't let her!"

"She doesn't need your permission, Princesse. She's got to leave to play with her team."

At that, you burst into tears - full, chest rattling, heartbreaking sobs as fat tears roll down your chubby cheeks and splash onto the floor.

"No!" You whine," No Morsa go!"

"Yes Morsa go," Pernille says to you," You know she has to leave. She does it every time."

You shake your head furiously and kick your legs in outrage. "No! No let Morsa leave!"

"Hey, hey," Magda says when she comes pick into the room," What's with all the tears, huh? Why are we crying?"

"No leave!" You screech at her, sobbing even harder now that you realise she's packing her clean laundry into the suitcase. "I not let you!"

"I have to leave, princesse," Magda tells you," You know that. How am I going to make enough money to give you all the nice toys you want if I don't go back to my job?"

"No job!" You insist," Momma has job! Stay here!"

You cling to her leg, wrapped up tightly around her in a way that makes you difficult to extract. You sob and you sob and you sob even as Magda pulls you into her arms and rocks you.

"I'm sorry," She says," I'm so sorry. I really want to stay but I can't. Soon though. Me and your Momma are going to work something out. Maybe I'll come here, huh?"

It's in that moment that Pernille knows she's going to call the Chelsea representatives back. She's been putting it off for days now, wanting to discuss it all with Magda first but she knows now that she'll have to talk to them about a contract.

She can't let Magda give up Chelsea, not when she's captain, not when she's put her blood, sweat and tears into the team to make it great, not when Magda leaving Chelsea would be a big hit to her career, at least right now.

Pernille doesn't have much tying her to Wolfsburg and Germany apart from you and you're making it very clear now that your little heart is breaking over the fact that Magda is leaving again.

You want her to stay or, rather, you want to be with Magda and Pernille does too.

She wants shared breakfast and dinners, shared bathtime and shared bedtime and nights where you sleep between them in bed and days going out to the markets together and matches where you get to walk out as Magda's mascot too.

Magda has to leave now, despite your obvious heartbreak, but Pernille's certain that this separation won't be for too long.

[sunshineandspencer]

Cowboy hat rule, Part 4 (Tyler Owens, Twisters)

A/N: Let’s put it this way, I don’t remember writing this. But it certainly exists so you may have it, I want to rewatch this movie completely legally🏴‍☠️, but I’m not at home and I can’t. Physically weeping as I type this.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader.

Summary: In between butting heads with Javi’s team and running a successful YouTube channel based entirely around tornadoes, Tyler Owens is introduced to the most interesting woman he’s seen in a good while - and her sister.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: kind of suggestive (honestly not sure, it’s pretty late and my brain doesn’t work), minor swearing, I’m beginning to forget the movie so forgive me, very limited knowledge of America (I’m English).

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

I have redone the form for the taglist now that I’m apparently expanding from Criminal Minds

A rodeo, he brought her to a rodeo. 

And not just any rodeo, but one in the middle of tornado valley. For the amount of tornadoes this place gets, there are a lot of people here. It makes her nervous. 

Thankfully, there are idiots on horses to keep her entertained, and reminiscing about her childhood. 

At some point, Tyler leaned over. Pressing his shoulder to hers and ducking his head so she could hear him. His breath just ghosting her ear. 

“Not your first rodeo?”

“Not even close.”

Her eyes flicked to his, grinning up at him. He’s certain the sight of her smiling at him is going to be seared in his brain forever. 

Especially when she shuffled closer, so that she could be heard. Their thighs pressed together nearly as close as their shoulders. He could smell the faint traces of her perfume, he wishes she’d put some on before they’d left.

“Daddy used to compete in rodeos, up until we were eleven. He had an accident, and mom told him that if he ever did it again it wouldn’t be the bulls he had to worry about.”

He loves her mom, right now she’s the greatest woman in the world. Besides the pretty woman that she created, sat pressed against him. 

Her eyes went back to the rodeo, but his didn’t, watching her profile and wondering how he got so.. smitten.

Nudging her with his shoulder, he gave that bright grin - a real, happy grin that people are accustomed to. 

“I’m learning all sorts about you Alpine.”

“That you are, and yet you remain an enigma.”

“Aww, you don’t have to go about using all kinds of fancy words, you can just call me pretty.”

They both laughed at that, hushed and slightly giggled. Like a pair of schoolchildren mucking about in assembly and didn’t want to get caught. 

Leaning into each other, wondering why everything feels so much funnier when they’re together. 

But then she nudged him, telling him to actually tell her something about himself.

“I used to compete too, got stomped in the head a little too much and figured college would do me a little better.” He fidgeted with his watch, fitting it properly to his wrist. “I don’t mean to pry, but since we’re in a sharing mood, what’s up with Kate and Javi?”

She gave a long suffering sigh, and he realised he might’ve just hit a sensitive subject. But before he can tell her not to worry about it, she’s smiling at him. 

She’d leant away now, and he doesn’t like it, leaning with her arms on the back of the seats, her legs crossed and no longer against his. 

Is it selfish? To want her close again? Because he can be selfish if that’s what it takes. 

“He’s always had a thing for her. We used to work together, a group of us. Me and Javi were dating, Kate had her boyfriend, but I knew he loved her. I looked a lot more like her then.. I was a replacement but that was fine because at least I could pretend I was loved.”

Giving Tyler a soft smile, she realised that was probably a little more than he bargained for. 

Not knowing that he was currently cycling through all the ways he could murder the guy and shove him into a tornado to make it look like an accident. 

He could do it, it’s not hard to shove a dead body into a tornado when you drive into them for a living.

“Maybe he’ll finally get his head out his ass and ask her out. I doubt it though, he’s terrified of rejection.”

Tyler nodded, eyebrows furrowed, and then leant back with her. Arms going around the back of the chairs, fingers dusting her shoulder. 

Somehow, even that small touch was enough for her body to become instantly aware of the lingering heat from when they’d been pressed together. 

Then he gave her another one of those smiles, and she could’ve melted straight through the plastic. 

“If you want, I could run him over and send him up into a tornado. Let God and the weather do their things.”

She laughed - thank God she laughed - and he’s certain that he’s found something more beautiful than any tornado he’d ever chased in his entire life. 

And when she calmed down to look at him, smile still playing at those pretty kissable lips, her hands swatted out against his chest. 

“Don’t make it sound like you murder people so often, I have to get back in the truck with you.”

“Ahh, don’t worry about that Alpine. You’re too pretty to murder, can’t have the world bereft of that face now can we?”

Before she can answer, a swirl of leaves assault the audience, including them. Leaves that, really, were too violent to have just been caught up in a gust of wind. 

Picking one up, she crumpled the leaves and then opened her palm. The way they spread out left her nervous. 

“Were you tracking out this way?”

Looking to him nervously, she didn’t like that look on his face. Because they had been, but from the data, even Kate said the one out this way shouldn’t form anything too bad. 

Maybe the conditions for the tornado improved, because it definitely seems like something had touched down. By the way the bleachers are rattling. 

He didn’t answer either, just looking around at all the people here, calculating the tragedies if something did set down. 

But it hadn’t, or else they would’ve gotten—

All at the same time the tornado warnings sounded on their phones, and everyone began to panic, including her. 

Snapped out of it by Tyler taking her hand and getting her up. Pulling her through the crowd. 

“Come on, we need to find shelter!”

It’s hard to hear over the wind, and when she heard shit start flying off behind them, her blood felt sharp in her veins and she kept up the pace next to him. 

Glad he’s got her hand in his or she’s not sure how fast she could run. 

“I don’t- I don’t go into tornadoes, I do the data. I don’t go into the fucking things! I’m not you, I’m not used to this.”

He pulled her to a stop just inside a motel parking area, thankfully covered for now. Grabbing her shoulders and looking at her sincerely, realising that she really was scared. 

He knew she stayed back, he didn’t know why, but the genuine terror on her face said enough. 

“You’ll be alright, I promise. I won’t let you get hurt by this thing. But we need to get to shelter, okay?”

As he started pulling her along, all the noise rushed back to her and made her feel sick. Aware of the crashes and the screams, and the drag of metal on metal as the motel threatened to break apart. 

A woman was trying to get her daughter into the car, and she dragged Tyler to a stop. 

“No! No, don’t get in your car!! Get out, come here!”

They did, thank God, and joined them in the motel. Shoving past the idiot at the desk who clearly doesn’t know what’s going on. 

Everyone talking all over each other about basements or shelters. 

She was going a little haywire, and caught onto the crash of a metal gate swinging back and forth. The pool. It’s emptied and the wall would’ve been opened for maintenance. 

There’d be an alcove for them to huddle in and hopefully things to hold onto. 

Grabbing Tyler’s arm and shouting over everyone else. 

“Come on! We haven’t got time to argue, follow me!”

Shouldering open the door, she knew the woman and her child were close behind. As well as the clerk, while Tyler was trying to convince the two idiots that there was actually a tornado. 

Helping the woman into the pool, both her and her daughter were sobbing, not that she blamed them. It’s a miracle that she isn’t. 

Once the little girl was safely in her mom’s arms, she motioned for them to get to the end of the pool. 

Turning around to look for Tyler, she felt his hands on her waist from behind, easing her quickly towards the ladder to get into the pool. Allowing herself a moment to breathe. 

Until she caught sight of that couple trying to drive away, getting caught up in the tornado that is way too close for comfort.

Hurrying down, she reached up for Tyler, half wanting him to just jump down, and get to safety as quickly as possible. Pressing a hand to his back to stable him as he dropped down. 

Both of them rush over to alcove with the woman and her daughter. 

Showing them where to hold, and that she should keep her daughter’s eyes covered from any debris. And not to let go or look around for any reason. 

As she started to get a grip on the pipes, she heard a shriek from the motel clerk. He had tried to stand up while Tyler was helping him, and was sent to the shallow end. 

Then the idiot tried again and was dragged off into the sky. Her heart was heavy in her throat as she watched Tyler turn and start to crawl back to them. Fighting against the wind. 

Holding on tight to the pipes, but leaning out with her hand as far as she could go. Desperately reaching for him. 

Especially when a bus or something landed in the pool and started to tip over them. He’d be crushed. 

She’s too panicked to really think about anything other than making sure he grabbed her hand. Because she wasn’t losing anyone else - not him. 

As soon as his palm connected to hers, she pulled hard, to give him that small bit of leverage he needed right as the bus fell. 

He pressed up behind her, keeping both her, and the woman pinned to the pipes, holding on as best he could. They got a little more cover from the bus, thankfully, but the wind was still bad. 

With one arm still curled around the pipes, her other reached back to get a handful of his shirt. He was not going anywhere. 

Once it was over, all of them soaked and panting, and pretty injured from projectiles, they finally let go. 

Of the pipes, anyway. She couldn’t let go of his shirt yet, even as his hands found her waist. Digging in, to help her stand and reassure himself they’re still alive. 

Once they’d stood, and stumbled out from around the bus, they walked up to the shallow end to look around. 

The town - the rodeo - had been decimated. 

And with his hands still comfortably on her waist, she eased the grip on his shirt. Finally turning and wrapping her arms around him. Squeezing as tight as she could to try and now reassure herself. 

They’re both alive; they’re both okay. 

He hugged her back just as tightly, and she’s not sure if it’s the adrenaline from surviving, but she never wants to be anywhere but his arms ever again. 

Want more?! Good!

[mikkomacko]

Him and I - Falling Angel

Pairing: Mob Nico Hischier x reader

Warnings: crying, discussion of violence and death, a little bit of angst but mostly fluff with our fav mafioso

Previous

Enjoy! xx

______________________________________________________________

You spend a lot of time staring at walls and ceilings now. Not that you particularly like it, but it’s one of the few things that doesn’t make your head pound. The pain is getting better, you don’t have to hide in the dark bedroom every other hour anymore but it still leaves you dizzy and upset.

These are your last few days in Switzerland and you get to spend them laying on the couch. At least the boys have found a way to keep you company and keep themselves busy.

“Pass, pass, pass!”

Jack has always been loud. You’ve known that since the moment you met him and could hear his voice over everyone’s else’s in The Rock for the rest of the night. Nico used to joke that he was so good with the ladies because he was the only one they could actually hear.

Even with his attempts to be quiet for your sake, his voice makes your temple throb. You eye twitches uncomfortably, gaze half focused on the FIFA game on the tv as Luke’s character passes to Jack. You don’t know how they manage to follow along with so much happening, but it’s entertaining to watch them.

Knowing if you keep watching you’ll eventually throw up your lunch all over the living room, you instead watch them. The coffee table has been moved to the far end of the room, the large fur rug that once lay in front of the fire now lays in front of the couch. All four Devs boys are sprawled out on it, backs against the sofa and feet stretched out towards the fire place.

They’ve been like that for days, sat on the floor together with controllers and Gatorades. And you usually take up the other couch, tucked under a blanket and head flat on the cushion so you just have to press your cheek into the fabric to watch them. That or look up at the white ceiling and watch the fan spin round and round.

Jack and Luke must score because they high five each other and attempt to quietly cheer while Alex throws his head back against the couch and Mercer pulls at the fluffy rug in frustration.

You wince, not sure if it’s from the volume or guilt for not telling the boys that Nico had fucked you into the fur of that very rug just a couple days ago. Before you can think on it too much, soft fingers are brushing the side of your face, drawing your attention.

Nico stands above you, leaning over the back of the couch to press his palm into your forehead. His skin is cold, finger tips chilled from getting more firewood from outside, and you lean into it, the weight of his hand dulling the pounding in your head. He frowns down at you, flicks his eyes up towards the boys.

“Inside voices or m’taking the game away.” He warns, and that’s not the first time you’ve heard those words lately. Almost immediately the boys fall silent, hushed whispering filling the air before someone gently apologizes.

“It’s ok,” you say, closing your eyes and letting Nico’s hold anchor you. “S’not you guys.”

His thumb strokes over your hairline. “What do you need baby?”

You shake your head, blinking your eyes open to look at him. Nico just watches you for a moment, silent and observant with his lips pursed. Fortunately he doesn’t look at you all sad and guilty anymore, even in moments when he knows you’re hurting.

“M’gonna change and then come lay with you, ok?”

Nico leaves, taking the cool feeling of his hand with him and annoyance bubbles in your gut. Slowly, you get up from the couch, trying to avoid any head rushes or dizziness as you tiptoe around the boys.

“What do you need? I’ll get it.” Luke is already moving to get on his feet, almost tripping you as you step over his lanky legs.

“I’m good. Just getting some water.” You assure, laughing when he lifts a hand up for you to hold as you walk. The rest of the boys take after him, all holding out their palms to keep you steady as you navigate their gangle of limbs.

You don’t need the help, but the gesture is so sweet it burns in your chest and you instinctively reach up to touch the pendant around your neck.

“Hey.”

A knot forms in your throat, your fingers tightening around the little devil horns. Timo is leaning against one of the counter tops, drying off his hands.

You swallow, turning to open the cabinet with the cups.

“Hey.”

Moving to the fridge, you keep your gaze down and fill up the glass with water. It’s awkward, just as it has been since he left you at the hospital. Timo’s never been good at fixing things, and you’ve never been good at giving him the chance to even try.

“You look a lot better,” he says tentatively. “The bruising and stuff.”

Bringing the glass up to your lips, you just nod and take a sip. It feels wrong to walk away from him, so you don’t. You just stand there, holding your water and staring out the kitchen window.

“Are you ever gonna look at me again?”

You shrug, take another drink of water and try to ignore the pounding of your heart in your throat. Timo sighs, and you can picture him rubbing at his right eye like he always does.

“What do I have to do to fix this? You want to me get on my knees and beg? Cry?”

This time you do look over at him, stomach twisting when you meet his gaze. The usually bright and beautiful blue of his eyes is dull and cold, so sad and unlike your best friend.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, because you really don’t. You want to fix this, want to forgive Timo but it’s hard for you to get over feeling betrayed, especially by him.

“You forgave Nico,” he argues weakly, “what’s the difference.”

Bristling, you scoff. “The difference is that it’s Nico. I get why he’d be hesitant about my abilities, not you. You’re the one I train with, the one I’ve spent miserable hours with learning to fight and survive. And you still doubted me.”

Timo’s offended, you can tell by the way he stands up straighter and tilts his head to the side. Narrowed eyes zeroing in on you. “I was just following orders, doing what I was told.”

It’s a valid point, at least to him. And that makes it hurt even more. Even though he’s your best friend, he still chose Nico over you. His loyalty still doesn’t lie with you let alone the both of you, as it should.

“I don’t care,” you mumble, looking back out the window. Tears have begun to prickle behind your eyes and you don’t really want to cry in front of him right now. “M’sure Marcelo was just following orders too. Doesn’t mean it’s right.”

“Don’t do that, don’t make me seem like him.”

Timo scoffs. “I didn’t say that,” you argue “but it’s funny that you immediately attached yourself to him.”

Rubbing at your burning eyes, you blink a few times and notice it’s begun snowing outside. You wish you could go out there and bury your head in the piles of it.

“I wouldn’t hurt you like that.” Timo defends but he sounds flat, like he’s lost all the fight in him.

You have too, and you want to go lay down and sleep. “No, you wouldn’t,” you agree with him, “but you’d hurt me in other ways, that’s for sure.”

“Y/n-“

“Enough,”

Nico’s voice startles you, a bit of water spilling from your glass when you jump and turn to the entry way. He’s changed into a pair of sweatpants, chest bare as his hoodie and coat have been forgotten somewhere upstairs.

He’s not looking at you, dark eyes instead focus on Timo and while he doesn’t look mad, he’s obviously annoyed.

“You can fight with her about this later, when she’s better. Not now.” He tells him gruffly, uncrossing his arms and stepping into the kitchen.

As if he were pulling you by a string, you meet him halfway and step into his chest. Maybe you’re being dramatic or a baby about this, but you can’t help it. You’re hurt, both physically and emotionally and while Nico does have a part in it, he’s also the only person that truly makes you feel safe.

It’s unfair to Timo, you know that. But you deserve to be a little unfair right now.

“Tired,” you mumble, nose pressing into his collarbone. Nico wraps an arm around you, presses his fingers to the back of your head protectively.

“Let’s go lay down,” he instructs, and you hum in agreement, letting him lead you back towards the living room. The blinds have been lowered, dimming the light in the room and the other Devs boys have turned off the game in favor of scrolling through Netflix.

A part of you wonders if Nico told them to. It wouldn’t surprise you and you can practically picture him standing over them, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed as he instructs them to quiet down and turn the game off.

“What are we watching?” You ask, placing your water on the side table and waiting for Nico to sprawl out on the couch before you settle between his thighs. He sits up so you can lean back on his chest, his skin warm even though the fabric of your shirt.

“Whatever you want,” Mercer replies casually, but you don’t want to pick. Especially not after you pull a throw blanket up and over your legs, snuggling into Nico. Your eyes already feel droopy and heavy, tired brain unable to think of a movie you even like.

“Holtzy can pick,” you decide, sending him a lazy wink when he looks over at you. A sly grin takes over his face.

“I told you she wouldn’t want to pick,” he address Nico, “she’ll be out in two seconds tops.” You hear your boyfriend scoff, slipping his hand under your shirt to rest in your belly. You silently laugh and he lightly pinches at the softness of your stomach when he feels your shoulders shake.

Alex puts on an Adam Sandler comedy, one of the new ones you haven’t seen yet and you’re glad. Nico loves comedies but he hates rewatching movies, so at least he’ll be entertained.

Tilting your head back, you pucker your lips and press a kiss to the scar under Nico’s chin. His scuff is growing out, and it tickles your lips enough that you have to scratch at them afterwards but it makes him chuckle so you don’t care.

Settling back into his chest, you watch the into of the movie through droopy eyes. Timo comes into the living room just before your eyes fall shut, settling into the couch behind the other boys. You don’t see if he looks over at you and Nico, but it feels like he does just before you fall asleep.

~~~~

You’ve never been a fan of early rising, not until you met Nico. He likes to get his days started right away, likes to be out in the sun and feel like he’s actually doing something. When you first started seeing him you thought maybe he was lying about simply liking the morning. Like maybe he had undiagnosed anxiety or was a workaholic and couldn’t let himself sleep in.

Now you think he really just likes the morning.

And you don’t blame him. The house in Switzerland is peaceful, silent except for the groggy words exchanged between the two of you and the cautious movements of making breakfast without waking the boys.

Nico’s in his briefs and a black hoodie, pin straight hair tangled on the left side of his head and eyes still puffy. Even so he looks handsome, all dimples and sleepy smiles as you help him whisk eggs for breakfast.

The quiet is nice. Not that you don’t love the ruckus of having your family in the house with you, but you also love the moments you can just exist with Nico.

No Jack also means no pounding headache.

“Why are you drinking that?” You ask Nico when he places two glasses of iced matcha on the countertop in front of you.

He shrugs, sliding one over to you before bringing the other up to his lips and taking a sip. You don’t miss the way his nose slightly scrunches, green foam lingering on his top lip.

Giggling, you reach over the island counter and cup his jaw, wiping the matcha away with your thumb.

“You like it,” he explains, catching your wrist when you pull back and bringing it closer, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Figured I’d try again.”

His voice is still deep and gruff, lazy accent lisping some of the words and it’s so cute you can’t help but smile at him.

The compliment is on the tip of your tongue, eager to jump out just so you can see him blush and get all shy, but the words never come. They’re forgotten by the soft knock on the front door.

Eyebrows furrowing, Nico looks at you and then towards the entryway to the front door, and back to you.

“Don’t look at me,” you say, taking your hand back and reaching for your glass instead. “I don’t know anyone here.” You take a drink, following him out of the kitchen and down the short hallway.

The figure of a woman looms through the blurred glass of the door, but Nico must recognize her because he puts a hand out to stop you.

Your heart stutters, fear clawing at your throat when he turns to you and looks worried. You know that look, know what it means. Whoever is outside the door shouldn’t be here, more for your sake than Nico’s.

Immediately you think of Lena, imagine that somehow she’s found her way back to Switzerland and is here to torment you some more.

“Shit, sorry, s’ok I swear,” he immediately soothes, taking your face in his hands. Nico strokes your cheeks, biting at his lip as you let his words sink in for a second. It’s not until you’ve taken two deep breathes do you realize that you’re practically tearing a hole in his hoodie where you’ve biting your hand in the fabric to hold onto him.

“S-sorry,” you whisper embarrassed, struggling to get your knuckles to relax.

He shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry for that,” he tells you earnestly, whatever else he was gonna say interrupted by another knock on the door.

“Nico, I can hear you at the door. Open up.”

It’s his mother, you realize, immediately understanding why he looked at you like that. You haven’t seen Katja since the family lunch all those days ago and you suppose she’s heard about what happened and is here to talk about it with Nico. Especially since one of the people you forced Luca to banish did business with Rino.

You let go of Nico and take a deep breath, placing your hand on his back in what you hope is a comforting manner as he undoes the lock and opens the door.

Katja is dressed to the nines, her styled hair tucked under a fur winter hat that matches the long fur coat she wears. Diamonds peak out from under the collar, matching the ones on her ears and her finger. You look down, notice that even her snow boots are slick and elegant, and somehow look like they even have a heel in them.

Suddenly the boxers you stole from Nico and his old Team Suisse shirt feel like rags on you.

Kicking the fresh snow off her boots, she enters the house and you and Nico both step back in sync. As if being approached by a dog with foam at its lips.

“Glad to see you’re still a morning bird,” she says in greeting, adjusting her Chanel purse in the crook of her elbow.

“You too,” Nico replies, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame the tangles and knots. “Father still asleep?”

Katja clicks her tongue. “You know how he is, him and Luca, out like logs until at least 10.”

Insecure and unsure of what to do, you just nod at her words and reach up to fix the cowlick at the nape of Nico’s neck for him. That was the wrong move, however, because now she’s looking at you.

“Hello y/n,” she says politely, and while her face looks just as emotionless as it did when you met her, there’s something in her tone that’s different. Something that feels familiar.

“Good morning Katja,” you croak out, fingers finding your pendant and clutching at the metal. “Do you want coffee or anything? Nico and I were making breakfast if you want to stay?”

You’re rambling, you know that, but it’s suddenly hit you that she’s looking at the bruises on your throat and the healing stitches on your head. The last thing you want is for her to say something, and you’re tempted to duck behind Nico and hide.

Instead you keep yapping.

“Nico take your moms coat and-“

“That’s quite alright,” she cuts in, stopping Nico from reaching for her things. “I stopped by to see if you’d like to take a drive with me?”

You freeze, mouth parted in confusion and dig your fingertips against the pointy horns of the devils charm.

“Mother we’re not even dressed-“

“Not you,” she cuts him off, “just y/n.”

Once again you don’t even know what to say. What does she want with you? Is she mad about Lena’s family? Does she want to take you away from Nico so she can banish you from the country as well?

Realistically you know that would do nothing to keep you from Nico. He’d give up Switzerland for you, you’re sure of it. He’s given it up before for less. The thought is still terrifying though, mostly because she’s terrifying.

“She doesn’t go without me,” Nico states firmly, reaching his hand behind him for you. You cling to it, hold on for dear life to keep from spiraling into an anxiety attack.

Katja looks at him with stern eyes and an unimpressed tilt of her head. You don’t know what makes you say it but before either of them can speak you spitting out an agreement.

“Of course I’ll go,” you squeeze Nico’s fingers when he whips around to look at you. “Just let me change.”

Pleased, she folds her hands in front of her and nods. Nico stares at you in bewilderment, shaking his head and turning to hide you from his mother with his body.

“It’s ok,” you whisper to him. “I’ll just go for a bit and I’ll call you if I need to.”

He just keeps shaking his head. “You’re still recovering, and you don’t know what she wants or-“

“She’s your mother, Nico. It doesn’t matter what it is, I need to go.”

Unimpressed and annoyed, he sighs through his nose. You let go of his hand, reach up to hold his pouting cheeks. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you force a smile.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” You joke, but he doesn’t think that’s funny by the way he glances at the wounds on your skin and scoffs.

You kiss his cheek in apology, quickly ducking away and towards the stairs to change. Hopefully giving him a bit with just his mother will calm him down, and give him a chance to set some ground rules.

Toothbrush hanging between your lips and deodorant stick in hand, you picture him standing over Katja, hands on his hips as he tells her how long you can be gone, what streets and neighborhoods to avoid, that you’re phone is to be on and in your hand every second.

Capping the deodorant, you finish scrubbing your teeth, spitting toothpaste into the sink with a grin. Nico can be overbearing and overprotective, but you love him for it. His instructions and rules never feel like too much, like he’s restricting you. Instead they make you feel safe, loved. It’s a nice feeling to have again after feeling so scared and embarrassed lately.

Ten minutes later you’re tiptoeing down the stairs to find Nico sitting across from his mother in the living room, the mess of pillows and blankets from the boys splayed out on the floor between them.

“Sorry about the mess,” you tell her, Nico rising at the sound of your voice. He’s got your coat in his arm and your boots resting by his feet. “The boys stayed up late playing video games last night.”

Katja looks around, slightly confused. “The boys?”

Nico holds your jacket open for you, helps you slip your arms in. “From Jersey,” he answers. “A few of them flew out to see her.”

You turn and his fingers fall to the zipper, latching it and dragging it up to your chest. He’s still pouting when you look at him, thick fingers now snapping the buttons shut for you.

Katja makes a noise of understanding. Holding Nico’s shoulders for balance, you shove your feet into the boots, not even thinking about tying them since you’re just sitting in the car. That’s not good enough for Nico though because he sits back in the couch, leaning down to tie them for you.

Your cheeks burn, Katja’s gaze heavy on you as her son bundles you up through grumpy sighs and petulant eyes. Dodging her eyes, you wiggling your feet in your too-tightly tied boots while Nico rises to his feet again.

“Phone?” He questions and you dig it out of your pocket to show him you have it. Nodding proudly, you put it away and he smooths your hair down.

“30 minutes,” he informs you, and you try not to laugh as his predictability. “If you’re gonna be late, if roads are bad, if you don’t feel well you call me.”

You nod through his words, making sure to not look away from his eyes so he knows you’re listening. “Don’t get down anywhere, unless you absolutely have to, and don’t talk to anyone but Katja, understand?”

Narrowing your eyes, you hold your fingers to your forehead and salute him. “Aye aye boss,” you joke and he rolls his eyes, features easing up as he fights off an amused smile.

“Alright, alright,” Nico relents, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head before dropping his hands to his hips. “Get outta here, I’m gonna get ready and finish breakfast for when you get back.”

“Ok,” you murmur, lightly taking his chin between your thumb and pointer finger, overgrown beard tickling the pads of them. “Just don’t shave, alright?”

He looks at you fondly, something warm swirling in those pretty brown eyes of his. “Aye aye boss,” he mocks, left eye fluttering into a wink.

You let go, clearing your throat and turning to Katja. “Ready?”

She’s watching you both with a raised eyebrow, curiosity swimming in her eyes and the look is so similar to Nico it makes you stutter, as if she’s looking right into you the way he does.

“Yes, very well,” she rises from the couch, looks at Nico. “I’ll obey the rules, Nico.”

He doesn’t give any indication that he’s heard her and it makes your skin crawl uncomfortably. “Let’s go then,” you say weakly, motioning to the door. Nico follows you out, stands in the open doorway as Katja gets into the backseat of a black car. You look back at him, meet those strong and certain eyes of his.

And he nods just once, his silent way of telling you he’s sure it’s ok, it’s safe. You slide in behind his mother, let the driver close the door behind you and watch him through the tinted window as the car rolls down the snow covered driveway.

~~~~

Katja spends the first five minutes of her time in silence. The car creeps down the freshly cleared roads, a cruising pace like it has all the time in the world. You hold your phone in you hand, anxiously lighting up the screen every 30 seconds to check the time and make sure Nico didn’t call or text.

Finally, she motions to the driver and a partition slides up, sealing you two off from other ears. For some reason, that makes you more nervous. Why does she not want her driver listening in?

Sweating, you press the seat warmer button to lower the temperature. Across the car, Katja clears her throat.

“For a moment back there, I thought you and Nico were hiding grandchildren from me.”

It catches you off guard. Of all the things to talk about, she’s saying that? Even more confusing, what does she mean by that? What could make her think you and Nico were secretly parenting children this whole time?

Sending your confusion, she continues. “The mess at the house and the ‘boys’ you referred to. I was afraid I had missed out another part of my son’s life.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly, fiddling with your phone and looking over at her. She’s already looking at you. “Um, Nico wouldn’t do that-we wouldn’t do that. I know he doesn’t share a lot, but he’d share that.”

She lips curl into just the tiniest smile, her eyes gleaming with mirth. “I believe you know my son very well. Apparently you don’t know how much he despises this family.”

Shockingly, she doesn’t sound angry or upset. Neutral, like she’s reporting the weather to you. It makes your heart ache for her. You can’t imagine being a mother and feeling nothing when your child doesn’t like you.

That’s an experience you don’t want to have.

“He loves you,” you tell her, feeling like she has to at least know that. “He tells me that all the time. That he does love everyone here, but he’s different from you.”

Her fingers clench in her lap, so quickly you think you might have imagined it. The rest of her stays stoic and poised.

“I raised Nico in a very specific way. All three of my children were planned, brought up in different ways. It’s simply the way this life works.

“Nico never wanted to be a part of it.”

You don’t really get what she’s saying. It doesn’t matter. Katja glances at your throat, something sad settling in her eyes and continues talking.

“My husband is an only child. He inherited the business from his father. And that left him vulnerable. From the moment Rino and I married we knew we wanted three children, enough to keep the business - and those around it- safe.

“I’m afraid that lesson never made it to Nico. He was always a little rebellious, always stubborn-“

“Determined,” you quickly add, smiling softly when Katja lights up at the word. “Once something is in his head, there’s no stopping it.”

She chuckles fondly. “Yes, determined. And he was determined to get as far away from us as possible.”

The car keeps rolling through the town, the clock shows you have twenty more minutes before Nico will be tearing through the streets, most likely with the boys behind me, still dressed in pajamas and half asleep.

“Nico didn’t see what the business was like when it was just Rino. The way it left us- me vulnerable.”

Katja clears her throat uncomfortably. A rock settles in your gut, the purpose of this conversation becoming clear.

“You were hurt.” It’s not a question. You know the answer.

She inhales, “Yes, a few times. Back then it wasn’t terrible, there was a code against harming the women of the business. But I was intimidated, taken, scared. Anything to rattle Rino, make him give it all up.”

“Did he ever try?” You ask.

Katja nods. “He said he would try but we both know he wouldn’t. This is his life, it’s all he’s known. So we expanded instead, planned our kids and where they would be. In order to protect each other.”

That’s why he was supposed to go to Germany, that’s why his whole life was planned out for him. He was meant to have the role since before he was even born.

You can’t imagine how angry his parents must have been when he vanished.

“Nico being overseas doesn’t give him that protection.” You state.

Katja simply nods, eyebrows pinching sympathetically. “And by extension, you either.”

The car falls silent as you take in her words. Suddenly you’re mad. What right does she have in telling you this? Of showing her disappointment in Nico’s decisions and turning it on you?

“Are you trying to scare me into not being with him?” You snip, “Tell me I’m not safe, that I won’t ever be because you don’t like that Nico chose his own life?”

The time on her little car ride is winding down. The driver circles the block, begins the slow drive back to the house.

“I’m trying to make sure you know what you’ve gotten into,” Katja replies back, her tone a little heated.

“I do know. I-“

“Are you going to marry Nico?”

You pause, confused on the sudden shift but nod. “Yeah I am.”

She looks out the window for a moment and you wonder if somehow you’ve become the most disappointing thing in Nico’s life to her.

Then she turns back.

“This life will always be harder for us,” shockingly, Katja reaches her left hand out and places it on your forearm. “We have taught Nico very well, all of our children. But he’s the first of them to bring marriage into his business. And the fear that comes with that? The sacrifice? It’s something that can’t be taught.”

You understand where Katja comes from. And you’ve known that Nico will never know what it’s like to be in your place as the wife of the boss. If anything, this trip shows that. He had no understanding at all for what happened with you and Lena.

But Katja has failed to take into account that this happened away from home, away from the Devs.

“It’s not a business to us,” you say softly, placing your hand over hers. The large diamond ring on her finger cuts into your palm. “In Jersey, we’re a family. And Nico has made sure everyone in that family knows we take care of each other.”

Katja is such a hard woman to read. She’s always composed and cold, like a Barbie doll brought to life. For the first time since you’ve met her, emotion swells in her gaze and it takes you moment to realize its relief.

She’s been scared. This whole time she was scared for Nico and his safety. Maybe even for your safety.

You swallow, look down at where your hand is holding hers. “I know Nico disappointed you all when he left, but you should know that you gave the world the most strong, level-headed, and capable man I’ve ever met.”

Katja is watching you through wet eyes when you meet her gaze. “He is so easy to love,” you say earnestly. “Even when he’s purposely trying to make it difficult.”

That makes her laugh. You imagine Nico’s always enjoyed pushing against those that love him, testing the strength of that bond.

“I wouldn’t have chosen him and this life if I didn’t think he was worth it. And I can say the same thing for the dozens of boys and men back home that have followed him too.

“We’re not vulnerable, we’re not alone. We’re a family.”

Katja sniffles, blinking away the tears in her eyes and you let go of her hand so she can collect herself. Giving her a moment, you unlock your phone to text Nico that you’re almost home. As usual his response is instant.

Good, I miss you

You bite at your lip, overwhelmed with how much you fucking love him. Another text comes in.

Do I need to kill her?

Unfortunately, you have no idea if he’s saying that to make you laugh or if he’s actually serious. A part of you thinks he’s actually serious. Somehow, that makes it even funnier.

Nico is on the doorstep when you the car pulls up to the house. He’s put on jeans and a beanie, the same hoodie from this morning covering his torso.

His eyes follow the driver as he climbs out of the car and comes around to open your door. You step out, meet Nico’s gaze and hope he can read you. Like always, he can and you can see him visibly relax from across the way.

Katja slips out of the car behind you, whispering something in Swiss German to her driver before walking up the drive with you.

“Mother,” Nico greets, pushing off the doorway he was leaning against. “You’re thirty seconds late.”

She breathes out a laugh, shaking her head fondly at her son and much to your enjoyment, Nico’s cheeks flush. You watch him bite back his grin, try to hide his own amusement even though his dimples give it away immediately.

“My apologies son,” Katja says warmly, not even a bit sorry. Pulling your hands into your sleeves, you squeeze them together to fight off the cold and wonder how Nico could possibly be standing out here in just his hoodie.

Both him and Katja notice at the same time, Nico reaching out for your elbow and pulling you up a step. Instinctively you give him your hands, curling forward when he takes them between his and brings them up to his mouth. Blowing warm air on them, you catch his mother’s eye and feel your ears burn with shyness.

You wonder if she’s used to seeing Nico like this, if she remembers how sweet and kind he is. Did he even get to be like this around them? Or was his life always so cold and scripted?

Katja’s eyes shine with pride, her left eye falling into an effortless wink before settling back on her son.

“I should let you two get back inside, warm up and rest.”

Nico straightens out, still cupping your hands in his large ones. He looks confused, probably having expected more from her visit. You’ll have to tell him that this might have been your favorite moment from the whole trip.

“Before I go,” she digs into her purse, pulls out a little black box and you feel your heart jump into your throat. “I wanted to give you this.”

You pull back from Nico so he can take the box, his own fingers trembling now as he grabs it from her palm. Looking up at him, he looks shocked. Lips parted in awe.

“This is…” he trails off, opens it to reveal the most stunning silver wedding band you’ve ever seen. The diamond is smaller than the one Katja has on, but it’s bright and beautiful, surrounded by tiny little green gems. “This is supposed to go to Luca.”

Nico’s argument sounds weak and breathless, like he’s in disbelief and doesn’t even know what to do with the ring. Based on his words you guess it’s a family heirloom, a ring from a grandmother or great grandmother that is supposed to go to the oldest son.

Katja shakes her head, reaches over to gently close the lid of the box and rest her fingers over Nico’s. “It goes to the son that most deserves it.”

She looks over at you, gives you a smile that is so motherly and tender it makes you ache. “A man is only as strong and capable as the women behind him,” she turns to Nico. “And you son, are the strongest and most capable man I could’ve ever hoped to bring into this world.”

~~~~

You and Nico don’t talk about it. He presses a kiss to the side of your head as you stand in the entryway, peeling off your boots and jacket. Then he’s dashing up the stairs, and you clean up and put away all your layers.

In the kitchen you find breakfast still warm on the stove so you serve two plates for you and Nico, putting the rest aside for the boys when they get up. You drink your slightly watered down matcha, throwing Nico’s in the sink because you know he won’t drink it and pull out the cold brew you’d put in the fridge for him yesterday.

He comes into the kitchen just as you’re adding a bit of milk to it, eyes lighting up when he sees it. “Where’d ya get that?”

“The fridge,” you sass, laughing when he sneaks up behind you and wraps his arms around your middle. His beard tickles your skin when he tucks his face into the crook of your neck, pressing loud and obnoxious kisses there.

He’s gentle, careful to not agitate your healing bruises and the soft movements make you laugh even more. Nico doesn’t pull away until your laughs have turned to silent gasps for air and you’re pretty much a puddle in his arms, weight held up by him.

He’s laughing too, when he pulls back, turning you to face him. You wipe at your cheeks, smiling so wide your jaw aches and you look at him through wet eyelashes.

Nico’s always been beautiful. You’ve known that since the moment he winked at you from across The Rock. But sometimes he still manages to steal your breath away. When he’s so happy it radiates off of him, all dimples and rosy cheeks, eyes shining and framed by laugh lines.

He looks at you like that now, your heart doing flips and you giggle like a school girl. His smile widens at the sound and he leans in to kiss between your eyes.

“Thank you baby,” he says, reaching around you for his coffee. You clear your throat, try to catch your breath and calm your racing heart.

“Want to eat breakfast in bed?” He suggests and you jump at the offer. Eagerly nodding, you gather your matcha and his coffee, and he grabs the plates.

~~~~

Staring out the large window at the mountains in front of you, you blink sluggishly as Nico gently combs his fingers through your hair.

“Do you want to talk about?”

His voice is low and soft, like he’s afraid you might have been sleeping and he doesn’t want to wake you. You wonder if he’s been doing that all week, trying to talk to you in these in-between moments and he always caught you when you weren’t awake.

“About what?”

He hums, the sound vibrating in his chest and against your spine. You can’t see his face, but you’d imagine it’s disappointed in your lack of confrontation. Nico has never known you to shy away from things, and you feel bad for doing it now.

“Whatever you want,” he says easily “the ring, my mother, Timo…” the silence he leaves speaks volumes, both of you knowing what he’s leaving unspoken.

Your heart thumps loudly, nervous and scared of addressing what you know he really wants to talk about. But he’s given you all this time to hide, to ignore all the ugly parts of this trip. Hell, he’s even gone out of his way to defend you from the hard conversation you should be having with Timo.

This is something you can longer run from. Not with that big sparkly ring tucked away somewhere in this room.

“If I wanted to leave,” you start, voice wobbling. “Would you let me?”

You’re not talking about the house, the town, or even Switzerland as a whole. You mean it all; him, the boys, the Devils.

He understands. You can tell by the way his chest rises when he inhales, the breath deep and trembling.

“Yes,” he says after a moment, voice quiet and hallow “if that’s really what you wanted to do, if that’ll make you safe and happy, then yeah I would. And I’d do everything I could to make it happen.”

You wait with bated breath, staring out the window at the lazy snowfall and the snow capped Alps, not that you’re actually seeing it. All you can see is him.

“Before you’d do that,” he continues, that determine edge creeping back into his tone and you feel your heart jump into your throat. “I’d offer something else.”

“Yeah?” You croak out, “what?”

“Me,” Nico murmurs, and his lips ghosts against your neck, breath warm on your skin. “I’d give it up. Take out the inheritance I put into it and sign everything over to the ones that came with me.

“And I’d take you anywhere you want to go, build you a new house for us and the dog and- and maybe a family even. Whatever you want to do, just as long as I get to keep you.”

Relief washes through you, the anxiety and fear that Katja had knowingly put into your heart deflating. Rino never offered her that, was never willing to pick her over everything. And maybe that’s why she’s been so unsafe this whole time. Maybe what her and Rino have is nothing compared to what you and Nico have.

You crawl up onto your knees, moving so that you can face Nico and fall into his lap. He’s droopy, eyes sad and lips pulled down into a frown. Even his hair looks sad, flopping into his eyes that watch you so intently.

His hands shake when they find your hips, drawing you closer to him and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“You get to keep me,” you agree, tongue feeling heavy as tears well up in your eyes. “And you can keep to Devs. I just had to know-“

“If I’d do it,” he cuts in, clearing his throat nervously. “I have a plan for us,” Nico swears, his voice wobbling with emotion and you reach up to push his hair out of his eyes, stroke your thumb over the frown lines between his eyebrows. “In every universe I have plan for us, no matter what I have to give up to make it happen.”

Unable to speak around the lump in your throat, you just nod. But that doesn’t stop the sniffles or the water that blurs your vision. Before you know it you’re crying, big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and you can’t stop it.

Nico doesn’t even shush you or try to make you stop. He simply reaches up and wipes at your splotchy cheeks, even though it does nothing to keep them dry. You tuck into his shoulder, hiding the stupid whimpers that are squeaking out from your chest into his hoodie.

“It’ll be ok baby,” he coos, rubbing up and down your back gently, and smoothing down your hair. Nico feels so safe, so big and protective holding you like this and the words you’ve been holding back since the hospital finally find the strength to come out, knowing that at the very least he’s got you.

“I failed Nico,” its garbled mess of words, muddied down by your crying and sniffling and his hoodie. You’re surprised he even heard you. But he did.

“What do you mean sweetheart?” He tries to guide you away from his shoulder, and you dig your nails into his bicep to hold on tighter. You’re too ashamed to look him in the eye.

Turning your head, you press your cheek to him so he can hear you this time.

“I did everything I was supposed to do last time and then I got here and it was like I couldn’t think. I left you and Timo, and then I ran and I didn’t even think or fight back. I didn’t do anything you or Timo told me.”

You feel hysterical, squeezing your eyes shut as the words just keep tumbling out and out. And all poor Nico can do is hold you and hope to god it’s enough.

“I was just a stupid crying girl, it was Philly all over again and I kept passing out and crying. How am I supposed to do this, to be this person? I can’t take care of you or the boys, I can’t even take care of myself.”

He sits up, holding you so tightly you almost can’t breathe but it for reason makes you feel even better. Tucking back into your hiding spot, you stifle your whimpers into his neck again and Nico begins to gently rock you back and forth.

“You didn’t fail anyone baby,” maybe it’s the way he’s holding you, like he’s trying to physically gather up the words and squeeze them into your ribs and heart. Or maybe it’s his voice, so strong and confident in what he’s saying. Whatever it is, you calm down enough to hear him, to feel his chest move with every syllable.

“I don’t expect you to be perfect, to be able to do everything for everyone. I’ve spent my whole life in this role and I still fuck it up. I fucked it up with the Flyers and god knows I fucked it up here too.

“But you’re safe now and you’re ok. And we’ll do whatever you want to do. If you don’t want to train with Timo anymore, I’ll get more guards. If you want to train with me instead I’ll switch with him.

“Stay at home, work at the cafe, at the bar, whatever role you want here I’ll give to you baby. Just know you have never once failed me.”

Blinking open your puffy and swollen eyes, you hesitantly pull back to look at him. You hiccup, clumpy eyelashes catching together and Nico reaches up again to wipe at your cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you that day,” you whisper, gaze falling to embroider logo on his chest because you’ll cry again if you see those beautiful eyes of his. “Going behind your back to Luca, calling the boys. I had to do something though, I had to prove that I could do something.”

He cups your jaw, traces the outline of your swollen bottom lip with his thumb but he doesn’t urge you to look at him. Nico’s always been good at knowing when you need a break.

“You killed Marcelo to show us,” he states, not a question or a guess. “You wanted me and Timo to know that you could still do it.”

“I didn’t forget everything,” you nod sadly, peering up at him through your lashes. “I went too far, I know. But I was so scared Nico.”

“I was gonna kill him,” Nico admits, and you tilt your chin up to fully see him. He looks so casual, like he’s talking about the weather outside or dinner tonight, something normal. You suppose violence in this world is normal.

“I was gonna kill Lena too. After I let her know she could never be you.” He shrugs, tucks a loose piece of hair behind your ear. “I think you did it better baby. And I should’ve told you that there but I was scared too. And guilty.

“Being home, I let my guard down. That’s all I could think about when I saw you in the hospital bed.”

Sniffling, you lean back into him, unsure of what else to say. You’re exhausted, your eyes heavy and you’ve got a headache budding in the back of your skull. Nico just holds you, exactly like you want him too.

“I love you,” you murmur, dipping your fingers into the strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

Nico presses a kiss to your temple. “I love you with everything I’ve got baby.”

You close your eyes, inhale deeply to smell his cologne. “I want to marry you.”

His smile touches the side of your face as he presses his cheek against yours, leaning back into the headboard. “I want to marry you too,” he says earnestly “but sleep first ok?”

Not needing to be told twice, you let yourself fade away, telling yourself that you’ll talk to Timo tomorrow. Everything will be fixed tomorrow.

Next

[horrorsboyfrie]

Loser!Zandik being crushed on by Popular!Reader

(masc terms on reader+ it's the typical corny social butterfly × weirdo shit, queer edition, honestly + Zandik displays traits of autism + a little murderous♡)

Zandik, as per usual, was spending the night's time in the library. It was quiet, for the most part. While a lot of his fellow peers were focused on finding answers for their own satisfaction, even those who viewed their values and research to be above everyone else's had someone to keep them company; for that reason, they often chose to borrow the necessary books and study in their respective dorms, or the dorms of their friends. Some did indeed prefer the setup of the library's sections and desks, but even so, the peaceful atmosphere was not interrupted by them.

Zandik sat on a table at the very ends of the room. He had a pile of books to his right; some half opened, and others neatly stack on top of each other. He had his notebook and pens nearby, taking notes of anything he deemed crucial knowledge for his personal projects.

Not long had he been entangled in his theories when a specific group of students decided to make an appearance. They could be heard from miles away— and it just so happened that they chose to sit on a table to his right. Malicious intent, no doubt. These people tended to act as if Zandik was some foreign species to be studied; as if he was a sort of a subject that needed constant supervision.

Of any day to endure the constant speculations and disgusted or concerned expressions towards him, today was not the right one. Nothing too horrific had happened to him, not something that would matter to an average person, at least. It's just that he slept wrong, causing him to wake up with slight neck pain, which played a role in worsening his already short temper, which in turn made his sensory issues towards his clothes, especially his socks, far more insufferable than they had to be. He was one unexpected move away from having a meltdown.

Yet again, he managed to ignore the obnoxiously loud 《whispers》 that sprouted out of those filthy rat-filled mouths of theirs, as Zandik's already-overwhelmed mind decided to call them.

Unfortunately for him, the multiple different voices started chanting even more nonsense as you walked towards the table— he could see that you were dreading it. Was everyone so damn bothered by his existence? You were known to be such a sweetheart— contrast to majority of boys there— by those who've interacted with you, but to be fair, none had a reputation quite like Zandik's, so it's no wonder you resented him, as everyone else did.

"Why'd we have to sit here?" he heard you emphasize. He looked your way; he could see the grins on the faces of your friends, the way they seemed to be picking on someone, hushed whispers, mentioning his name time after time, as if he wasn't barely three chairs away. Gods, his patience was running thin.

"Can we just switch seats?" He listened as you practically begged your friend, who was sitting on the complete opposite end of the table. As much as he may have claimed (to himself, seeing as he had none to actually confide in) not be a man driven by emotion, his worse sensory days were tempt to be a catastrophe in every way possible. He left soon after he heard those mumbles; he was too sensitive for his own good, even if he dismissed that fragile soul of his with walls of anger and apathy.

Your friends seemed to notice before you, the fact that he was no longer in the room. All you got was endless teasing about how you've missed your chance or about the fact that you probably 《intimidated》 him. Bullshit, no? You sighed as the group split up again, each going ahead to do their own thing. The only true reason they decided to meet up here was to force you into talking to him. That did not quite work out, it seems.

You hurried to leave as well, when you noticed a small pen on the ground. That must be his; you always see him writing with that specific shade of blue. It's not like nobody else in the whole Akademiya owned the same one, but he was sitting on the table you found it under. You decided to hold on to it. Perhaps it would be an opportunity to finally have a conversation with the guy!

On your way back to the dorms, you noticed him nearing his own room. Maybe now's the time to return him his belongings— especially considering how he seemed to be searching his pockets. His face was indifferent when he realized he didn't have the pen on him, but his hands were trermbling; a hint of anxiety perhaps? One could only speculate. You decided to leave him on his own. He probably wasn't up for company or conversation anyway.

The following few days weren't quite like you expected. Usually, you'd manage to get at least a glance your way by him; laughing at stupid jokes, bumping into people or objects that you could have easily avoided, accidentally saying things a bit too loud. Nothing worked this time. It's as if he purposefully was avoiding you; a fact that got confirmed after you tried walking towards him. He saw you—he made sure you saw his look, he held it for a couple of seconds— and then he walked away. Fuck, there's no way this guy wants anything to do with you.

Weeks later, you had grown to forget ever owning that pen of his; actually, you started using it for yourself. If you can't give it back, then why not use it for yourself?

Zandik, despite trying his hardest to keep his stares away from you and your friends (and pretty much everyone else in that damned building), couldn't help but notice that his long-gone favorite pen is under your possession.

After the very last class of the day, he decided to give you a visit; your fate had been decided by him already. He's done what he's done in the Eleazar hospital and got away with it. It wouldn't be hard to add another body into the endless pile of disappearances; he knew how to keep suspicion off his shoulders.

Perhaps it was a bit too far. He was letting his rage get the better of him; but gods, he really hadn't felt at ease writing with anything else. "His death would make no logical sense to my goals," he sighed as he reminded himself. "What sort of researcher puts his emotions above his values?" He groaned— frustrated both at himself for considering such a solution to his problems, and at the situation itself.

Times like these, he'd go to his special place to sit and think; it was a big tree, near a lake. Children would often talk about their encounters with the Aranara there. At first, he only ever visited that place so he could find one creature and take it for himself, but he grew quite comfortable being there.

He grabbed the opportunity by its hand once he spotted you all alone; sitting with your back against that very same tree that he favored. As if you had a seventh sense, you turned around to see him. He wasn't quite prepared to be greeted with a smile. It caught him off guard; why were you, of all people, showing any form of sympathy for him?

"I was hoping you'd be here" you said, handing him the pen that he has been desperately trying to get a hold of again.

[thehighladywrites]

ACOTAR MEN X READER, BEING THEIR SNEAKY LINK

☀︎ — summary: sneaking around with the acotar men👀 How long does this go on?

☀︎ — warnings: 18+, nsfw themes, tw beron🤢 mentioned

☀︎ — amara’s note: had this idea for a while, let’s bring this to life😈oh to be sneaking around with them🙏🏽💔

Rhysand

With him, no one finds out until you tell everyone

He is able to keep the links sneaky for sure, also he masks your scents so that no one can tell

No one really suspects that ur sleeping together because he isn’t paying any suspicios amount of attention to you.

He makes it up later though👀

At first, it was just a way for him to recover from Under the Mountain, so he sought you out for help in order to gain back some controll.

And he got better and began to carefully heal, yet here you both were, still sneaking around years later.

Yeah, years bc that is how good he’s able to keep secrets.

Oh, he gets jealous too and masks it as being a good friend and high lord when asked about it by the rest of the inner circle.

His favorite trick is telling the ic he’s sending you on a mission so they think ur gone, then he suggests them eating out while you’re gone then tells them he can’t make it so he stays at home and then you guys can stay at the house unbothered and alone

Since he gets jealous, he gives you hickies or make your legs so sore you can’t walk

Rhys looooves the attention you get during morning training for the others

“Are you okay, did you trip or something?”

“No, no Az,I’m fine. I was just doing some stretches and I think I overdid it.”

Rhysand just stands there happier than ever as you glare at him

Azriel

Guys, let’s be so real. Azriel ain’t getting caught, ever💀

He teaches you tricks on how to hide better when you’re coming over to his room

And it’s usually his room you hook up in bc he has trained himself to notice anything being off. Like if a book has been moved like a millimeter, he knows so it’s the safest and least risky place for you to be.

Because he is so attentive and sneaky, he is incredibly risky

He loves risky sex. Bro will fuck your brains out knowing people are close bc he knows he’s able to cover it up

Azriel also uses his shadows on you in broad daylight.

You’re out for dinner w the inner circle and his shadows teases and rub your clit under the table. You use your magic to suppress your arousal but it’s kind of hard to not squirm and all that

Az just sits there cocky as fuck knowing that he makes you react like that without even touching you

So so so soooo much jealousy on your side bc Azriel gets hit on all the time, males, females, youngsters, oldies, bro everyone wants him

People don’t hit on you tho because Azriel is always standing behind you, exuding that scary aura and energy that has people running the other way

Even after you two become official, you keep it under wraps. You don’t want anyone or anything ruining it for you so it’s all very hush hush

Only years after, when your friends ask why none of you date people, do you spill. You tell them you and Azriel are together already but it’s a private relationship

They were a little pissed but they let it go when they saw how happy you were and how good your dynamic is

Eris

He is sneaking around with you because of both your parents

You’re the daughter of one of B*ron’s🤢 close advisors so you and Eris spend a lot of time together

Eventually it develops into a secret relationship with a lot of sex

You both know your parents would hung you both if you ever got exposed but you still do it.

You both act like you’re somewhat of enemies or don’t like each other in public so that no one can even rise suspicions againt you.

Behind closes doors he sluts you out like crazyyyyy, i’m talking any type of sex, rough, soft, different positions, different places, new things added, toys, rope, cuffs this man is kinky I KNOW ITTT

like he has no controll over his life bc of b*ron 🤢 so he likes taking controll in the bedroom and dominate, yum👀

It all becomes more interesting and exciting when your parents decide it’s high time to get engaged and married.

Your suitors always wonder why you’re late and messy, what they don’t know is that you were busy getting bent over by eris

anyways when b*ron 🤢 dies and eris takes over, the sneaky link ain’t sneaky anymore. The man fully claims you, even making you his high lady.

Ugh i love him💔💔💔💔

Lucien

You’re Cassian’s sister and you’re hooking up with him on the down low

Lucien caught your eye when he and Feyre came back from Spring.

He seemed uncomfortable around everyone and kept to himself, until you started spending more time with him

Time turned your companionship to a secret relationship

Please, we all know how charming Lucien is, I mean, shit I’d fall for him too🫨🫨

Sorry @thelov3lybookworm but your man is so fuckable💗

Anyways, he is super charming and silver tounged and that makes you jump his bone immediately

This guy is amazing with his tounge, head game goes CRAZYYYYY

At first it’s just sex, but then instead of fucking then leaving, you begin to stay during the nights and talk for hours.

Eventually you realize the depth of your bond and how much you love one another.

You were quite nervous when telling Cassian bc Illyrian’s are super protective and possessive over their family but he is fine with it bc he knows that there aren’t better males than Lucien

Anyways, you keep sneaking around bc you don’t want to outright make out infront of the inner circle so you sneak away at parties, meetings and dinners.

This man is a risktaker just like Azriel. I know he sneaks up from behind, saying crazy and stomach flipping things, waiting for your reaction then fucks you in whatever place you are

Cassian

You’re Lord Devlon’s daughter and you sneak around with him.

No one knows about your magic from your mother’s side that you use to remove any trace of cassian

At first you hated him bc of your father and bc he manipulated you into thinking cassian and his friends were dangerous

There is banter and mean words exchanged between you that only makes the sexual tension between you even stronger

One night you both snap and have hate sex and that one night becomes the start of years of secret meetings and rendezvous.

Whenever he's in Windhaven, you two have a blast. To dodge curious eyes, you've got this genius plan: throw a party whenever Cassian conveniently has a meeting or mission there. With everyone a bit tipsy, it's the perfect cover for linking up

After a while you’re caught by Devlon himself and all hell breaks loose. Rhysand has to come down and solve everything before blood spills

Devlon disowns you and would have killed you had it not been for Cassian protecting you from your father

So he takes you to Velaris where you live with him and eventually become an advisor for Rhysand since he hasn’t lived there for years and would benefit from someone who was so close to Devlon

You have so much fun and yeah, that’s how you went from hate sex, fuck buddies, in love and eventually mates

[jobean12-blog]

After the Fall

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 6,399

Summary: Bucky is your first love...your first everything so when things fall apart in college over a stupid misunderstanding you’re completely heartbroken but manage to move on...that is until your past comes back in a way you least expect it. 

Author’s Note: When Bucky and reader are dating they are at least 18 and when they reconnect their age is up to you- but they are obviously adults. The type of jobs mentioned are also up to interpretation- it’s a business thing for sure but as far as details it’s up to you! I had this whole moodboard planned to show the progression from young Bucky to now but I suck at them so instead I stuck some pictures in the middle of the fic to give you an idea :) And the first pic is what he looks like now hehe 🥵Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Dividers by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: some angsty parts over past events, both Bucky and reader have lots of feels, there’s soft fluff and sweetness, i-m-pl-ie-d s-e-x-y times, f-in-g-er-in-g, some light d-i-rt-y ta-lk, Bucky is delicious of course lol 

You pace your apartment and try not to fiddle with your outfit any more than you already have. It’s only seven thirty am and you’ve been up since six. You still have an hour and a half before you have to meet with Steve for your first official day of work.

Maybe you should leave now…New York City public transportation can never be trusted. The office building is only a fifteen-minute train ride but just to be sure…

Twenty-five minutes later you find yourself sitting in the lobby of the large building, your face to your phone and your foot bouncing rapidly. Several people walk by and you barely notice them, keeping an eye on the time and carefully sipping your drink.

But then you hear heavy footsteps and a hushed voice, one that sounds almost familiar and just as you look up you catch the retreating back of a tall man, broad shouldered and with long dark hair neatly tied into a bun at the base of his neck.

You stare until he disappears inside the elevator, your whole-body tingling with awareness. Could it be your past has finally caught up with you after all this time? Or is it just the constant lingering feeling of what you never truly got over?

Just a coincidence. It has to be.

After several blinks you check your phone again and decide it’s time to head up to Steve’s office.

The receptionist outside his office greets you warmly before picking up the phone and letting Steve know you’re here.

You knock, even though you don’t have to, and wait until you hear Steve call you inside. When you open the door you notice he’s quietly speaking to someone and due to your sudden onset of nerves it doesn’t register that it’s the same man from earlier until he turns around and his ocean blue eyes meet yours.

Eyes you know. Eyes you had fell in love with a long time ago.

Your stomach plummets to your toes and you must look like a deer caught in headlights because Steve stands suddenly and rounds his desk.

“Are you ok?” Steve asks but your eyes are still glued to Bucky.

Steve calls your name and you finally look at him and swallow hard with a nod but your eyes flicker back to Bucky when he starts to move toward the door.

Bucky says something to Steve that you don’t register and already has one foot out the door before Steve stops him.

“Hey Buck, wait a second. I want to introduce you to our new executive assistant.”

Bucky stops short, still facing the hallway and slowly turns, plastering a fake smile on his face.

Steve gives him your name and you hold out a shaky hand.

The moment his skin touches yours you feel him over every inch of your body and a flood of memories assaults you, leaving you almost speechless.

“Bucky is my partner,” Steve says proudly.

You manage a small hello and quickly pull your hand back. Bucky looks away, nodding to Steve before leaving the office.

Steve’s eyebrows are drawn in with concern as he moves his gaze back to you.

“That was weird,” he mutters, studying you and you think he’s waiting for an explanation.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted anything,” you say softly.

“Not at all,” Steve answers with a warm smile. “Now come and sit. Let’s get you set up for your first day.”

You visibly relax and take a deep breath, reminding yourself that you’ve worked hard to get this position and you won’t let anything, not even your first boyfriend, your first love…your first everything, get in your way.

Thankfully the rest of your first day goes smoothly with no sign of Bucky and you have enough work to keep your brain busy and focused.

It’s when you get home, toe your heels off and fall onto the couch that the day catches up with you, breaking like a wave against the rocks and you sink deeper into the cushions with a groan.

Your cell rings, pulling your from your thoughts.

“Hey Nat,” you say tiredly as you greet your best friend.

“HOW WAS THE FIRST DAY?” she says, far too loudly.

You wince but a small smile pulls at your lips.

“It was great. Steve is so sweet and I was busy all day but kicked ass.”

“I knew it,” she says. “But I get the sense there’s more…”

She waits, always patient and far too perceptive.

“What do you mean more?” you ask, trying to sound easy and breezy.

“Babe,” she admonishes. “I can hear it in your voice.”

When you don’t elaborate she says, “I’m here and ready to listen when you want to talk.”

Her kind words are all you need to hear before you sigh heavily and blurt out, “Bucky works at the firm. He’s Steve’s partner.”

Silence on the other end of the line.

“Nat?”

“Wow,” is all she says.

“I know.”

“Are you ok?” she asks, her voice tentative.

“I will be,” you answer, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Dare I ask…how did he look? It’s been so long!”

The image of him flashes in your mind but it’s blurry and mixed with the younger version of him you know from your past.

“Honestly, I don’t even know. I barely registered more than his eyes. I was in shock.”

“Understandable,” she says. “Want me to come over?”

“No but thank you. I’m just going to take a bath and go to bed. I have the rest of the week to get through.”

“Ok babe. Call me if you need me.”

“I will, thank you again.”

Once you have a warm bath running, bubbles dancing along the surface and the calming scent of lavender filling the space, you sink under the water, hoping to wash away the day and maybe even some of the past.

The phone at your desk rings and you answer with your well-practiced greeting, smiling when you hear Steve’s voice. He lets you know he’ll be out of the building most of the day, handling some meetings downtown and that Bucky will be here should you need anything.

You hang up and square your shoulders, refocusing on your computer screen and doing your best to push Bucky to the back of your mind.

It works until an hour before lunch when you get a notification for a meeting. The e-mail doesn’t give you many details, just a time and place to be. Silently praying it has nothing to do with Bucky you gather your lap top and bag and make your way to the top floor.

The office door is closed but you can hear voices and when you knock and hear Bucky say, “come in,” you instantly tense up.

He repeats the words and you finally find the strength to push open the door.  

Three sets of eyes turn your way, only one of them familiar. The other two men openly admire you and you have to force yourself not to sneer at them.

Bucky must notice because he says, “gentleman if you don’t mind we have business to conduct.” His words are firm but harsh and the two other men clear their throats and look away to absentmindedly fix their ties.

You step inside, shutting the door behind you and sitting at the small conference table.

A shadow appears over you and you look up to meet Bucky’s eyes.

“I need you to take minutes for the meeting and…”

The rest of his words fade away as you finally take a moment to get a good look at him. His voice is deeper now, his suit filled out with muscles he didn’t have when you were younger and his hair…his hair is long enough to brush his shoulders.

His presence is overwhelming, sending shockwaves through every nerve in your body and making them buzz with memories.

“You still with me?” Bucky asks, a cocky smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

You nod and look down at your computer.

The meeting lasts about an hour and you do your job perfectly regardless of the fact that your heart is in your throat and your stomach is in knots.

“Thanks gentleman,” Bucky says as the two men get up to leave.

They both glance your way again with matching smiles and one of them opens his mouth to speak but Bucky quickly interjects.

“Meetings over.”

They leave without another word and you and Bucky are alone in his office.

You can feel his eyes on you and when you look up at him his jaw is clenching and his eyes are hard.

“Small world, huh?.”

He grunts, which you take as an agreement.

“I didn’t know you were Steve’s partner,” you start, inwardly berating yourself for the quiver in your voice. “This was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.”

“I can tell you know what you’re doing,” he says, leaning over the table. “This is all strictly professional.”  

“Right,” you agree.

He stares for a moment longer then dips his chin before saying, “I’m going to lunch. You can see yourself out.”

You’re left staring blankly at the empty space he just occupied, the silence he left behind deafening and filled with so many unspoken words.

“Better day today?” Nat asks, this time from the couch beside you.

“I sat in on a meeting Bucky was conducting.”

“Oo,” she says, pouring you more wine.

“He looks so good Nat. Even better than before and I didn’t think that was possible…his hair is long now.”

She lifts her eyebrow and smirks. “Better huh? Well, he must be losing his mind over you.”

You smile at her in thanks but shrug. “He couldn’t have left his office quicker if I had set him on fire,” you joke.

“Are you ever going to talk about what happened?” she asks, eyeing you from over the rim of her glass.

“What’s there to talk about? We were young. When we talked about going to different schools he made it sound so easy. We’d visit every weekend. Be together every break and talk every day on the phone. But then…things just happened.”

“What things?” she asks gently.

“I kept hearing from other friends that he was studying,” and you make air quotes with the word, “with some girl named Sharon from this classes. I never asked about it because I trusted him but then we both got busier and we had less time…he seemed distant, or maybe it was just me. Things started to fall apart. Then I met Matt…”

She smiles wryly at the mention of your ex.

“More wine please,” you say with huff.

The next two days go by without a hitch. Steve seems very pleased with your work so far and you start to settle into your role well.

However, things fall apart again when Friday rolls around and you’re standing in the hallway speaking to one of the gentleman, Brad, from the meeting earlier in the week. He found you on your way to the staff room and practically cornered you to introduce himself.

“So, you should come out with us tonight. It’s a good way to end the week,” Brad says.

He leans closer to you, into your personal space, and you take a step back just as Bucky rounds the corner.

Your back meets his chest and you lunge forward but you never get far because Bucky’s hands wrap around your waist and he hauls you back to him.

“Woah,” you say, freezing at the feel of his hands on you.

Brad laughs but it quickly fades when he sees the murderous look on Bucky’s face.

“What’s going on here?” Bucky asks. “Don’t you two have work to get done.”

Your mouth drops open with a sassy retort but Brad beats you to it.

“We just met in the hallway and I was inviting her to drinks tonight,” Brad says lightly.

Bucky turns his eyes to you. “I was just going to grab my lunch. It’s my break.”

Your tone is defensive and you lift your chin defiantly.

“That might not be the best idea,” Bucky starts, turning back to Brad with a smirk. “She’s a lightweight….one too many drinks and she might be…”

“Don’t finish that sentence Barnes,” you spit out.

Both Bucky and Brad look taken aback then Brad breaks the awkward stare down between you and Bucky with a question.

“Do you two know each other?”

Bucky keeps his eyes on you when he answers with, “will you excuse us Brad. We need a minute alone.”

Brad looks between the two of you. “Ok, no problem.” But before he walks away he says to you, “hope to see you tonight.”

Bucky glares at Brad’s back then gently takes your arm and hauls you down to the nearest office. He opens the door and ushers you inside.

“What is your problem?” you ask before he even shuts the door.

“Why were you talking to Brad?” he asks.

You groan and fist your hands at your sides.

“It’s just like he said. We met in the hallway and he asked me to come out for drinks tonight!”

Bucky grunts.

“What is it with all the grunting? And I can’t believe you were about to make some shitty comment about my drinking!”

His shoulders sag and his eyes soften slightly.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that but….”

He growls and turns away from you.

“But you broke my heart doll!”

When he finally turns back your way there are tears shining in your eyes. At his words, at the use of the endearment he saved only for you and at the way he looks once again, like the boy you fell in love with all those years ago.

“Yeah, well…you broke mine too,” you whisper as you look down at your feet.

You stand there in silence for what feels like forever before quietly saying. “We have to work together now. We can’t let our history be a problem. I want this job. I’ve worked hard for it.”

He scoffs and meets your gaze.

“Friends?” you ask, holding out your hand.

He stares at your outstretched hand but doesn’t’ take it as he steps incrementally closer.

“History?” Is that what you’re calling it?”

His voice is a growl, low and powerful.

“Bucky,” you try again.

“No doll. I can’t do friends with you. I know what you taste like when you come screaming my name.”

The memories wash over you, making your skin heat and your head dizzy. You’re reeling between feeling aroused and ashamed and angry.

“I’m not friends with people who give up on everything and bail for something new and shiny.”

His words hurt, hitting right where he wants them but you gather your strength and remind yourself that you’re here because you should be and what happened between you and Bucky has nothing to do with it.

“Seriously? It was so long ago, Bucky. Something tells me you haven’t been locked away and pining for me all this time.”

Your eyes slowly devour every inch of him. “No, I think you’ve been just fine without me.”

“See something you like doll face?” he murmurs.

He stands up straight and tall, crossing his arms over his chest and causing the fabric of his suit jacket to pull tightly at his bulging biceps and his long legs are spread wide as he smiles sardonically.

You can’t stop your gasp before it passes your lips. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” he mocks.

You don’t want to answer his question because it’s true. You do like it. More than you want to admit.

His long hair curls at his shoulders, neatly styled and framing a sharp jawline that’s lined with dark scruff, some spots even peppered with gray. His full lips are soft and kissable and his hands…you know what those hands are capable of.  Long fingers that are now adorned with rings, the shining gold glinting under the bright lights of the office and drawing your attention, spread wide over his arms.

It’s suffocating but you can’t stop your blatant perusal.

Your eyes drop to his long legs and what’s between them, his suit pants straining against what’s behind his zipper, the thick cock that stretched you for the first time.  

His smile is filled with arrogance as it widens into a grin and his gaze sears you, rooting you in place as he leisurely looks his fill.

“I certainly like what I see,” he says, licking his lips. “But none of that matters any more, right? Old news.”

“I won’t let you ruin this opportunity for me,” you tell him, willing your voice to stay even. “And I know Steve suspected something was up when I walked in the first day so don’t…”

“I already told Steve we have a past but don’t worry I didn’t tell him all the shitty details,” Bucky retorts. “Your secret is safe with me.”

He stands there with an expectant look on his face.

“Are you waiting for a thank you!” you almost shout. “I can’t believe it.”

You see his mouth opening to interrupt you, but you hold up a staying hand.

“Let’s just agree to be professional so we can do our jobs.”

You take a step around him but he blocks your way, his body large and imposing in the small space and when he leans down, his breath tickling your ear, and whispers, “I’ll see you on Monday then,” an involuntary shiver shoots down your spine.

He meets your eyes, his own sparkling with the same desire you know is in yours then reaches around you to open the door.

With a rush you shoot down the hallway and back to your office, silently praying no one caught you coming out of the room.

Once you’re safely inside with the door shut, you lean against it and finally let out a shuddering breath, swiping at your eyes.  

“I’m exhausted,” you explain to Nat after telling her about the events of the day.  “Even if I had wanted to go I would be asleep on the bar in minutes.”

“Well, just don’t let him dictate your social life. You have every right to go out and relax with coworkers. Especially cute ones. And you know I’ll come with you if you want.”

Nat’s words bring a smile to your face. “Thank you. Let’s just hope I can make it through next week.”

Later that night, after trying and failing to find something to watch that will keep your attention you crawl into bed and dream.

Your laid back on his bed as his stubble scratches along the sensitive skin of your neck and his whispered words reach your ears.

“You want my cock doll?”

You moan out his name, arching beneath him.

“Tell me.”

“Yes, yes I want your cock Bucky,” you purr.

His chuckle vibrates along your stomach as he moves lower. “Just need a taste first.”

“Please,” you beg just before his tongue flicks over your clit.

You push your hips into his face and he growls in approval.

“More,” you demand, and he obliges as one thick finger teases your opening.

You wake up just before he fills you, panting and disoriented. Looking around your dark room you can barely remember where you are. Or when. The past mixing with the present and creating something dangerous.

Your arousal is evident in the stickiness of your panties and you squeeze your thighs together in search of some relief. You sit up and take a sip of water from the glass on your nightstand, wishing it would quench more than your thirst. You consider finishing yourself off, it won’t take much, and he’ll never know, but you will.

Monday morning arrives faster than you’d like and you find yourself dragging your heels, literally, into the office.

You see Bucky in a meeting later that day and you notice him glancing your way several times, words and thoughts and emotions crossing over his face but you can’t decipher them.

The problem is you feel the same way. Confused and unsure…well maybe not unsure about everything. You definitely want him but that’s a line you know you shouldn’t cross, especially after the harsh words you exchanged last week.

The meeting ends and so does the day. And the next and the next until it’s Friday. It’s past five pm and you’re still in your office working on something for Steve. He pops his head in and tells you to leave but you wave him off and explain you’d rather get it done now and relax this weekend. He bids you goodbye once you promise not to stay too late.

You’re in the middle of a thought when the door opens again and without looking up you say, “don’t worry Steve, I should only be another hour then I promise I’ll go home.”

“Another hour and it will be dinner time.”

You look up at the sound of Bucky’s voice, your eyes wide and your lips lightly spread with surprise.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “Thought you were Steve.”

He smiles and for the first time you can tell it reaches his eyes.

“I’m going to be done at about the same time…dinner?”

You stare at him, not sure if you heard him right.

“Unless you had other plans toni…”

“No,” you interrupt. “I don’t and uh dinner sounds good. I’m starving actually.”

“Great, then I’ll see you in an hour. There’s this little noodle place we can walk to from here.”

You smile gratefully, waiting until the door shuts behind him to let out a whoosh of air.

“I don’t see a table,” you say as you look around Bucky into the restaurant.

He grabs your hand and you ignore the tingles that shoot up your arm as he drags you through the place. In the back corner, there’s a lone table, small but empty.

He holds his arm out, gesturing for you to sit. “I usually come hide in the back here if I have work to do but need food,” he explains.

You sit and he follows, plopping down across from you. The table’s so small that his knees bump yours underneath.

“Ow,” you hiss.

“Shit, sorry doll,” he mumbles as he moves his chair, bringing him closer to your side.

“I forgot how big your are.”

Your eyes go wide as you hear your own words come out of your mouth.

“Man doll face, you sure know how to hurt a guy’s feelings.”

His tone is light and teasing but you look down, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you fidget with your hands and try not to remember exactly how big he really is.

Thankfully the waitress stops by to ask for your drink order. Once you tell her what you want you sit quietly and peek over at Bucky.

He looks nervous and for some reason it makes you feel better.

You both start to speak at the same time then laugh over your jumbled words.

“Go ahead doll,” he says.

“I was going to remind you of how much we used to talk. Remember all those nights we stayed up late either on the phone or hanging out in our favorite spot on the roof.”

His eyes sparkle at the thought. “Of course I remember. There never seemed to be enough time.”

The waitress reappears with your drinks and sets them down.

“Still like that whiskey huh?” Bucky teases. “I remember the first time you tried whiskey.”

“Oh gosh, I try not to,” you groan.

He suddenly looks sad. “I’m sorry about that comment last week…about the drinking. And about most of what I said. It was harsh. It’s just. This is hard,” and he gestures between the two of you.

“I get it. Believe me.”

“What happened to us?” you say after taking a sip of your drink.

“So much,” he responds. “But I feel…”

His words are interrupted when the waitress appears with your food. You take a few bites, focusing on chewing and swallowing as you muster up the courage to say the next words.

“I never gave up on us,” you start, your voice pained. “I never bailed…I heard so many things…people were talking.”

“What did you hear?” he asks, his fork held tightly between his fingers. “What are you talking about?”

“People were telling me you were with Sharon all the time…studying…and I wasn’t sure what else. You pulled back, we talked less…I don’t know it just didn’t feel the same. I was losing you.”

“Losing me?!” he says, far too loudly for the space. He squeezes his eyes shut then continues, his voiced hushed but still angry. “I was just trying to keep my grades up. I was struggling. I missed you so much and I couldn’t handle it. My grades slipped and the idea of you thinking I was a failure was too much on top of everything else. Sharon was just helping me. Nothing ever happened between us.”

You stare at him, your eyes glassy as they fill with unshed tears. “I don’t understand. When I asked you to come visit so we could talk…you…you were so hesitant, I thought it was because you were going to break up with me and then…you never showed.”

“I did. I did show,” he says quietly. “But you were with Matt.”

“What?” you gasp. “When? How come you didn’t tell me?”

“I was too ashamed. I figured you had moved on to someone better, someone who was able to keep their shit together and I didn’t want to mess that up for you.”

“Bucky,” you whisper. “I wasn’t with Matt. We were just friends.”

“But it didn’t stay that way,” he says, his tone accusatory.

“No. But that wasn’t until I knew it was over for us. I was completely heartbroken and it never worked out with Matt. He couldn’t get over the fact that I was still in love with you.”

That knocks the wind out of him and the two of you sit there, staring and uncertain.

He abruptly stands, knocking into the table. “Come on, let’s dance.”

“What?” you screech as he grabs your hand. “There isn’t even any music. This is a restaurant!?”

You don’t fight him as he tugs you away from the table and to the other side of the small room and when you spot the jukebox you can’t help the smile forming on your lips.

“I should have known you’d take me to a place with one of these,” you laugh.

He looks over his shoulder and winks before he starts scrolling through the songs. He stops on one but you can’t see the name then presses a few more buttons before he takes your hand again and pulls you to him.

The music starts and you almost stumble into him, recognizing the melody immediately.

“Your favorite,” he says quietly, drinking you in with his eyes.

You sway together and he spins you slowly, his hand teasing along your lower back. He takes your hand and lays your palm against his chest as you move back and forth. It’s not really dancing, more like you’re pressed together, shifting on your feet.

When you move your fingers across his chest you feel his sharp intake of breath. Your eyes trace the movements as your hand spans his broad chest then grazes over the gold chain peeking out from the open buttons of his shirt.  

“I like all this,” you say quietly, pressing the chain into his skin before you glance at the rings on his fingers.

“Glad to hear it doll,” he rumbles, looking far too pleased.

Your hand slides to his bicep and he flexes, smirking when you look up at him through your lashes.

“When do you have time to work out?” you whisper into the small space between you as your gaze wanders over his arms.

“Early in the morning,” he answers. “And you should see the rest of me.”

Need rumbles through his voice and you look up to meet his eyes.

“Bucky…”

He kisses you before you can finish the thought, stealing your breath. You freeze for a single heartbeat and then kiss him back with everything you have.

“Fuck doll.”

He wraps his arms around you tighter, pulling you against him and you lean into him willingly, a moan vibrating through you. His hand slips around to cup your throat, his thumb brushing over your jaw as he tilts your head back, deepening the kiss.

The music stops and you hear a few catcalls from some random guys at another table. It breaks the spell and you take a step back.

You start to panic and he can tell, his hands tightening at your waist.

“Doll…”

“No, we can’t.”

“Yes we fucking can,” he answers back. “We’re adults and we can do whatever the fuck we want. And make no mistake,” he continues, grasping your chin between his thick fingers to force your eyes to his, “I want you.”

You audibly swallow and sway into him. He holds you close, his eyes wandering over your face expectantly.

“I just…I panicked. I need a minute,” you admit.

He visibly relaxes and slides his knuckles along your curves to find your hand before taking it in his and pulling you toward the door.

“Where are we going?” you ask once you’re outside.

“I’m walking you home,” he says quietly, not letting go of your hand. “Just like when we were kids.”

You smile and press closer to him, loving the feel of his thumb brushing over your knuckles. The walk is mostly silent as your mind races to find the right words. You want this. Want him. But is it too much too quickly? It’s been so long but even so your body remembers him, has his touch memorized and seared into your skin and your heart…your heart has been full of him since the day you met.

When you reach your apartment building you stop. “This is me.”

He waits patiently for you to speak but when you don’t he asks, “so now what?”

“I want this. You. Us. I never stopped wanting it,” you confess. “But we’ve both hurt each other and I think we need to take it slow.”

“I’ll do whatever you want if it means you’re willing to give this a chance,” he answers. “But I can’t promise I’ll behave…I’ve been dreaming about being inside you for far too long and my hand just ain’t cutting it doll.”

You bite your lip, desire written all over your face even as you try to shoot him an admonishing glare.  

“But we’ll start with a date,” he says softly. “And I know just where I’m gonna take you.”

With a small nod you lean forward and kiss the corner of his mouth, your lips lingering on the taste of his skin before you pull away and move from his embrace.

“Tomorrow?” he asks. “Or too soon?”

“Tomorrow,” you repeat.

“HE KISSED YOU?” Nat screeches and you have to move the phone away.

You’re nodding before you realize she can’t see you.

“Yes, right there in the middle of the noodle place.”

“Well?”

“Well what?” you ask.

“How was it?”

You sigh almost dreamily. “Better than I remember which I didn’t think was possible.”

“And you’re sure you’re ok with this?”

“I’m feeling so much but the thing I’m feeling most is the fact that I want him. I’m hoping it’s more than a physical thing. It feels more than that because to be completely honest I never stopped loving him.”

“I’m glad you’re giving this a chance,” Nat says. “Just go at a pace that makes you comfortable.”

“So I should have sex with him tomorrow…? Because I’m perfectly comfortable.”

You can hear Nat’s snicker. “Girl, if you do I better get every dirty detail.”

You giggle and cover your mouth, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

“Just keep them closed ok?”

You squeeze your eyes shut and hold tightly to his hand, stepping on the backs of his feet several times as he leads you to your date spot.

“Sorry Buck,” you laugh.

“It’s ok doll, just another few steps.”

You hear something metal creak open and then a blast of cool air hits your face.  He throws his arm around your shoulder and tucks you into his side.

“Ok, open your eyes.”

You’re met with a scene that takes your breath away. It’s both familiar and new, the old roof top a space you frequented when you were younger but now it’s been brought to life in a whole new way.

Soft string lights hang from a make shift canopy where underneath you see a small chaise lounge that’s covered in a plush blanket and cocooned by fluffy pillows.

“Oh Bucky,” you gush. “You did all this?”

He smiles and kisses your forehead. “I remember how much you loved it up here.”

“It’s beautiful. All of it.”

“I have one last thing to show you. C’mere.”

He pulls you along with him and pauses near the old fire escape.

“Close your eyes,” he orders again, slipping his hands over them from behind.

You laugh and reach up to hold his wrists, fiddling with the gold bracelet that dangles loosely there. “What are you doing?”

“This,” he whispers along the shell of your ear.

He moves his hands from your eyes and you gasp and cover your mouth, but then reach out, tracing one finger over the etched lines in the metal.

Your initials are carved neatly into the rusted metal, still standing out against the weathered material after all this time.

You spin in his arms, your eyes falling to his lips just as you lick your own, his eyes tracking the movement.

“Thank you Bucky.”

And then you kiss him. He grabs your face gently between his large hands, nipping at your lower lip and you open for him without hesitation. You press into him and he slides his hands down your back, brushing his thumbs over the sides of your breasts.

You whimper his name, moving your lips to his neck to trace down the muscular column.

“Fuck,” he groans as he walks you back toward the chaise lounge. With a spin he sits down and pulls you into his lap, your thighs on either side of his.

You pull back, your eyes bright and your lips swollen.

“You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”  

Your whispered thanks gets lost in the moment as he dips his head and drags his nose along your skin, inhaling softly.

“Whatever you want doll. Anything, nothing. Say the word and it’s yours.”

His words are rough even as his hands move delicately to caress your body.

You lean forward, softly kissing along his jawline toward his ear, your breath fanning his skin when he squeezes your ass.

“Touch me.”

“Touch you where doll? You want me to fill you with my fingers?” You want my mouth. I’ll lick up every last drop of whatever you wanna give me.”

You tremble in his arms, tugging at the button down that hangs loosely over his shoulders, your fingers splaying over his exposed skin as he shrugs it off. You rake your nails over his tight white tank, desperate for more of him but instead he tucks his fingers under your shirt and pulls it up and off.

His large hand covers your breast, his thumb brushing your nipple through your bra and you arch your back, pushing your chest into his face.

Your hips rock, rubbing up and down over the hard ridge of his cock.

“I’m gonna come in my pants if you don’t stop that baby doll.”

You don’t stop. Can’t. And when his fingers pop open the button of your pants you grind down even harder, needing more.

His fingers move lower and he hisses at the softness of your skin before he finds you soaked and ready for him.

“Yes,” you breathe out. “More.”

“Right here?” he teases, lightly brushing his finger over your clit.

He spreads your juices all over you, coating his fingers and your skin until you’re completely wild for him, writhing as you try to fuck his hand.

Two thick fingers sink inside you, his rings hitting your skin as he meets every one of your thrusts, going faster and harder when you mewl for more with every stroke.

“Bucky. I’m gonna come,” you warn.

“Come for me doll. Come all over my fingers. Squeeze me tight.”

His words send you careening over the edge and you cry out his name but he doesn’t stop the slow pumping of his fingers, drawing out every last bit of your pleasure.

You collapse against him, your head laying along his shoulder. His skin is warm and soft beneath your cheek and you can’t help but press your lips there. You spasm on his fingers once more before he slowly pulls them free and brings them between you, staring at the glistening proof of what he does to you.

With a predatory gleam in his eyes he holds you gaze and pushes his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean one by one.

“Fuck doll, you’re so sweet. I almost forgot how good you taste.”

You turn your face to his as your fingers tip toe down his chest, catching on the gold chain that rests against his warm skin, before moving lower.

“What about you?”

He rests his hands over yours, stopping you from undoing the button of his jeans.

“Not yet baby doll. I want to at least give you a real date first.”

“Are you being all gentlemanly now?” you pout. “We’ve had sex up here before.”

“I’ll fuck this pussy anywhere and anytime you’ll let me, but you want to go slow and this is more than just fucking. It always has been. When I get back inside you, it’ll be because we’ve worked through all this shit for good, all the shit that never should have gotten in our way. And there won’t be any going back. You’ll be mine again.”

Even though you always have been.

@sstan-hoe @lookiamtrying @hallecarey1 @kmc1989 @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @late-to-the-party-81 @randomfandompenguin @hiddles-rose @sebstanwhore @book-dragon-13 @littleseasiren @justkinsey​ @beccablogsthings​ @laineyreads​

[otakubimbo]

Sleeping Beauty

Aizawa x Reader

hi, i think this is gender neutral? but also i'm in a sensei frenzy so uhm yeah teachers hot on the brain butg also look at me writing an actual drabble.

Aizawa wasn’t happy being dragged to UA halls so late at night because Mic forgot something in his office, but his friend wouldn’t take no for an answer when he asked him to accompany him there. A grown man who doesn’t want to go anywhere without his ‘best friend’, how irritating when he was already so exhausted and just wanted to relax in his bed. Aizawa wasn’t paying attention to what Mic was saying as they walked the empty halls until the two came across the faint light left on in the teacher's lounge.

The last person he saw in the teacher's lounge before the end of the day was you. You had claimed you were just going to finish up on getting the student evaluations together and then you would head back home, you promised you weren’t going to stay late, but you had a habit of overworking yourself. He told you explicitly that it wasn’t important for them to be completed that day, but you were stubborn, and when put to a task you were going to complete it.

An exasperated sigh left his lips knowing that you were, probably, in the lounge hopefully at least asleep on the couch in there but most likely not. It wouldn’t have been the first time that he’s caught you sleeping at work, and probably won’t be the last. Present Mic's voice cuts into Aizawa’s thoughts of the possibility of you in the lounge as the louder man questions the light both are seeing.

“Stop yelling” Aizawa cuts off Mic's questions as the two of them walk towards the lounge. As the two approached the room, Aizawa’s suspicions were confirmed as he heard your familiar soft snores coming from inside. Immediately at seeing your sleeping form, Present Mic starts gushing about how cute you are asleep as Aizawa tries to hush him to not disturb you. Although Mic was right, you were adorable when you slept. Your expression is so soft, so relaxed, not your usual frantic busy self.

Mic’s voice cuts Aizawa out of his thoughts again as he asks if they should wake you up so that you can get better rest at home. Aizawa shakes his head, knowing that if they woke you up you would just continue working at home sleep evading you once again, work being your priority over your health. He could admit that you did look uncomfortable while you slept, a pencil still in your hand, your glasses crooked as your face was smushed onto the table you were sitting at, he couldn’t just leave you like that. Aizawa moves without thinking, fetching a sleeping bag he keeps in there for his afternoon naps and laying it on the couch behind you. He delicately takes the pencil out of your hand and the glasses off your face, placing them down next to the copious amounts of paperwork that surround you. Present Mic watches in uncharacteristic silence as his friend gently picks you up, attempting not to wake you from your slumber, and placing you on the couch zipping out the sleeping bag for your comfort. Mic had never seen his friend be so caring to someone else like this, a knowing grin spread across his face as he continued to watch Aizawa get your papers in order. The care that Aizawa was taking with your things, trying not to smudge your glasses or mess up your paper system you had going on made Mic's smile grow even more. Aizawa liked you and liked you a lot, it was obvious, at least to Mic it was. After setting your stuff in order, Aizawa writes a note on one of his sticky notes, placing it on top of your papers.

“What,” Aizawa asks, with the usual bored expression on his face as he finishes with your things, looking at Mic's obnoxious grin. Mic just shook his head, knowing that if he spoke up, he would be too loud and wake you up and that wouldn’t fare well with Aizawa. As the two men leave the lounge, Aizawa takes one last look at you smiling faintly seeing you zipped up in HIS sleeping bag, turning the light off to allow you to get at least a few more hours of sleep.

You woke up in a confused haze. The last thing you remembered was working on the 1-A evaluations, trying your hardest to keep your eyes open and finish the final paperwork. But now, you were in the dark and you couldn’t see, if you weren’t so comfortable you probably would have panicked. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you realize that you are still in the teachers’ lounge and the reason you can’t see is that you don’t have your glasses on. All right well, at least you know where you are but then you’re taken aback again as you try to sit up and you realize you’re confined by something. A familiar scent hits your nose as you attempt to free yourself from whatever is confiding in you. Aizawa. It smelled of Aizawa, like coffee and bourbon, and the sweet smell of his vanilla conditioner. Your hand grazes a ripper, ah, you were in a sleeping bag. Aizawa’s sleeping bag. Your face flushes as you look around to see if he is still in there with you, but you are alone. Inhaling deeply as you fight the urge to snuggle deeper into the protective cocoon that you’ve been placed in, almost forgetting the work you had to finish. Eventually, freeing yourself from the sleeping bag, you easily find your glasses on the table with the rest of your things placed, sorted, and finished??? You were sure you weren’t done with everything before you accidentally passed out. As you look over the evaluations, you see a cat-themed sticky note that reads;

stop falling asleep at work, you’re welcome.

You smiled gently to yourself, knowing the culprit behind all of this. You start collecting your things as you try to force back the girlish giggles, he was so cute when he wanted to be. He had tucked you into his sleeping bag and finished the evaluations for you. The two of you had only been growing closer, but you were hoping that one day it could be something more than the simple companionship that the two of you shared.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Jake Kim x Reader: I love you more

G/N. Soft, sappy.

"I love you more," is always Jake's answer to your I love you's.

Not I love you too, but I love you more.

He says it sometimes with a playful toothy grin, other times hushed and reverent, eyes impossibly soft.

He means it. Thinks it's true.

Jake loves you more than you love him, and it's not a complaint - he is happy with that. In his limited experience, relationships are never fully equal, are they? There's a constant give and take, scales constantly trying to balance.

You're his favourite person. Having the privilege of you loving him back is enough.

.

.

Except you think you love him more. Even if Jake says this regularly, it doesn't mean it's true.

At least in your mind.

You both show your adoration with grand and small gestures. Big Deal boys at your beck and call, a steady rotation of Jake's inner circle by your side, because you might as well also be their Leader. Home-cooked meals for Jake; tight embraces for those hard days, quiet company for those harder nights.

He makes you laugh and you make him snort.

You've seen each other red faced and blushing.

Broken down, dejected and spirits fragile.

Occasionally expressions contorted with anger, body language defensive and on guard.

More frequently eyes half lidded, faces lovestruck, voices low and limbs tangled together.

.

.

Jake is right, when he thinks relationships are a continuous rebalancing of the scales. You love him more some days, and he others.

As you lie in his arms, waking up to his bedhead and a sweet smile beaming down at you, you wonder how your heart doesn't burst with how much you love this man. You definitely love him more.

Jake thinks about how wonderful you are, blearily blinking up at him and your face lighting up when you see him already awake and looking at you. How this sort of peace, this relationship he has only dreamt about. He loves you with everything he has and more. A lot more.

The first thing you say that day, voice croaky with sleep-

"I love you."

Jake grins, he will never tire of hearing you say those three words, and tells you, "I love you more."

It doesn't really matter, in the end, neither of you are keeping count.