#but i found it to be a bit more... relaxed??

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Wrapped around you [B. R.]

Bob Reynolds x fem!reader

wc: 3k

summary: Bob has a secret lover in the city, and that night he feels the need to sleep in her arms.

masterlist

You were making instant soup when your phone buzzed with a text. It was late and you were tired, so you figured whoever it was, could wait a bit.

You'd spent fourteen hours working at the convenience store, covering your usual shift and also the shift of the college student who worked in the afternoons. More than just the money, it was a kind of favor. The poor girl had been sick the past few days, and you'd hate for her to lose her job. Still, the fact that it was an act of good faith didn't help ease your fatigue.

A minute after the first message, another one rang. You ignored it, thinking that if it was something urgent, the person could always call. Two more messages rang through shortly after. And when two more did, it was enough for you to turn away from the stove and search for your phone.

The contact record was flashing in the notification bar.

Bob ♡ : hi Bob ♡ : are you home? Bob ♡ : can i come over? Bob ♡ : I know it's late Bob ♡ : sorry Bob ♡ : you can say no

You knew he hated taking calls, and although the insistence seemed odd to you, you quickly responded. You thought that, after so many months, he would have understood that it wasn't even necessary for him to ask if he could visit you. But he kept doing it, and you kept saying yes.

When you met him, it wasn't under the best circumstances. The man had walked into the store all nervous, and judging by the way he was hyperventilating, you thought he'd been mugged. It turned out he was having some kind of anxiety attack and just wanted to stay somewhere to calm down. You –still afraid he'd escaped from a mental institution– let him. After a few minutes of analyzing him, something in you told you he was just a man who needed a little kindness.

You offered him water, asked if he needed any medication, and suggested he grab something from the store if he was hungry. Bob didn't accept either option, but he appreciated the consideration you were showing him, even though you didn't know him. A while later, when he was in a more decent state, he said goodbye.

You had trouble sleeping that night. You worried about not knowing what had become of that stranger, even if his visit to the store had been so brief.

A few days later, he appeared again. He looked better this time. He still had that shy air, but now he wasn't pale and staring into space. It turned out he'd come back to thank you. You thought it was such a sweet gesture that if you could have, you would have hugged him; you didn't because it would have been too weird.

Bob continued going to the store. At first, he at least pretended he was going to buy something, almost always grabbing the first thing he found and putting it in the checkout, hoping you'd exchange a few words.

You didn't want to bankrupt the poor boy, so after a few weeks, you told him he could stop by and say hi even if he wasn't going to buy anything.

At some point, you invited him out for ice cream. You started spending more time together, and finally, one day you invited him over to your apartment. The first time, you didn't have sex. It was the second time.

From then on, you had something going on, though you still didn't dare put a name to it. Bob didn't want to make you feel stifled or pressured, and you thought talking things out would bring you bad luck.

That's why it wasn't unusual for him to stop by your apartment sometimes, whenever he felt like cuddling. Of course, you two didn't just fuck, but to be honest, the activity was extremely beneficial for producing certain chemicals in your brains that made any difficult situation better. So it was something to relax, yes.

You hadn't told anyone about him. It was like a tacit agreement, almost as if you two were leading a double life where things were less stressful, confined mostly to your couch or bed.

As for him, he also kept you a secret with some suspicion. His friends noticed that he'd been absent more in recent months, but no one had been able to investigate. The few times they wanted to bring up the subject, Bob would excuse himself by saying he was going to the library or running some errands, and the matter was settled.

Now and then, he would sleep over at your apartment. It was always because you were having a good time and you suggested it, insisting that the night could hold many dangers. But both of you knew it was the need for closeness speaking for you.

However, it was unexpected that he would take the initiative to spend the night together. Because at that hour, he was definitely going to stay until the next morning, right?

Knock, knock, knock…

Someone was at the door. You didn't know how long you'd been lost in thought, but the lukewarm soup in your bowl gave you a clue.

Bob always arrived the same way: with that strange mix of imposing presence and quiet exhaustion. Tonight was no exception. He was wearing a dark sweatshirt—one of those old, oversized ones that seemed to have lost their shape from so much use—and faded jeans, his worn boots covered in a fine layer of dust. His disheveled hair fell over his forehead, damp at the temples, as if he'd been walking too far or had just stepped out of a quick shower without drying it completely.

His shoulders were tense, but his eyes… his eyes spoke volumes. Dark circles under his eyes, heavy eyelids, as if he hadn't slept well in days. And yet, when he looked at you as you opened the door, there was a faint flicker of relief in his expression. He didn't fully smile, but you could tell something in him had given way just by looking at you.

"Hi"

He was carrying a small paper bag—probably containing something for dinner, or some absurd craving he was using as an excuse to see you—and his knuckles were red, as if he'd been rubbing them together out of anxiety or cold. He didn't say much when he entered. He only looked at you for a few seconds, as if he needed to confirm that you were letting him into your home.

"How are you?"

“Fine,” you followed him with your eyes, noticing him walking to the counter to leave the package. “And you?”

"Fine"

His answer obviously didn't convince you completely. So you quietly approached him and cupped his face for a kiss.

Bob immediately let out a sigh and his shoulders relaxed under your touch.

"You sure?"

“Yes. I just… wanted to see you. That’s all.”

“Oh, just seeing me? How unfortunate, darling.”

Suddenly, you heard him chuckle, and then he came over to hug you, burying his head in the crook of your neck. A shiver ran through you when he kissed your bare skin.

“Seeing you, hugging you, touching you, kissing you…”

“That sounds better to me.”

Instinctively you leaned further against him, letting his hand settle on your lower back and holding that position for a while.

You noticed that in the paper bag Bob had brought a couple of rolls and a bottle of chocolate milk to share with you. It was odd how he almost always brought something, as if he wanted to show you that he wasn't just going to demand your affection. Even if he had, it wouldn't have bothered you too much.

You sat down in the living room to share a small dinner, and Bob asked how your day had been. He really enjoyed listening to you, though he couldn't exactly explain why, and you were always happy to share things with him. You only stopped when he took it upon himself to brush away a couple of crumbs that had remained at the corner of your lips, doing so with a gentleness that melted your heart.

It was past midnight when you finished eating. Even though the man's presence had lifted your spirits, you still felt like your eyelids would close at any moment and you'd simply collapse. He noticed.

“Do you want me to stay?”

His voice came out in a measured tone, almost as if he didn't want to upset the fragile balance of the night. You didn't answer him immediately, but instead looked at him. The dim light barely outlined his figure, his broad shoulders, his long legs crossed with a comfort that contrasted with the question he'd just asked.

“Are you asking because you really don’t know…” you said calmly, with that kindness you usually reserved only for him, “or because you need me to say yes to feel at peace?”

Bob looked up. That familiar expression appeared on his face: a mixture of honesty and a certain emotional awkwardness.

“Maybe both”

You nodded without saying anything. The tenderness he provoked in you wasn't effusive or naive; it was more like something that knotted in your stomach and spoke to you in a low voice.

“Of course I want you to stay. You can stay as many times as you want.”

With that, you walked toward him, extending your hand in a calm gesture, almost out of habit. It wasn't an invitation: it was a certainty.

He didn't hesitate. He stood up naturally and followed you, as if that was enough to remind him that yes, this was his place. You knew something was happening to him, but you couldn't figure out what it was; there was a sign written on his forehead, in a language you couldn't read.

Your apartment was modest, but—in Bob's words—cozy. Because of this, your mattress was barely bigger than a twin, not quite a queen size, but there was enough room for the two of you.

Throughout the room, there were a few things that denoted his intermittent presence. You had a comforter, white and crisp, that you unfolded whenever he stayed. He'd told you that being covered helped him sleep. You, on the other hand, hated doing it. He slept without a pillow, and you slept with this one. Bob on the left side, you on the right.

The mere knowledge of the opposite routine was proof enough that your relationship was more intimate than either of you would have liked to admit. There was a sweater he'd forgotten, you'd gotten him a toothbrush, and you also had his favorite brand of tea, as a thoughtful gesture. One of his books rested on your nightstand.

Sometimes, in a corner of your bed, he used to forget his heart.

Shortly after wishing him goodnight, you fell asleep. You could barely feel his presence, close in the small space, but far enough away that he couldn't reach your hand or wrap you in a hug. Either way, you were just getting used to it, as neither of you had ever slept in another person's arms. At least not as a regular activity, of course.

Hours passed until, unwillingly, you suddenly woke up. It wasn't due to a noise or a bad dream; it was just your brain deciding to interrupt your sleep. A second later, slightly more conscious, you realized you needed to pee.

Reluctantly, you dragged yourself out of bed, complaining about leaving the comfort of your previous position and hissing softly as your feet hit the cold floor. You crossed to the bathroom and, as you sat down, you remembered that you hadn’t brushed your teeth before going to bed, so, taking advantage of the fact that you were already there, you did. It lasted about five minutes, at most, then you flushed the toilet and forced yourself to walk again.

All the lights were off, except for the faint glow coming through the window from the street, because you didn't want to be disturbed from sleep. The silence of three in the morning accompanied you on your journey.

Then, as you turned down the hall, you saw him.

Bob was sitting up in bed, hunched slightly forward. He hadn't turned on a lamp either. His eyes were half-closed, blinking slowly, as if drowsiness were overcoming him, but he wasn't about to give in. He yawned, long and contained, covering his mouth with a piece of the comforter he was holding.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked, stopping in your tracks, softening your voice.

It took him a few seconds to react. He looked up, staring at you as if he needed confirmation that you were back.

“You left,” he murmured hoarsely, without reproach.

You walked slowly toward, sitting across from him. You took his face in your hands, warm and firm, recognizing that subtle tremor that sometimes appeared in his jaw when something happened to him.

“Did I wake you up when I got up? I’m sorry…”

“No. I just... didn’t feel you.”

He caressed, perhaps unconsciously, the space on the mattress that still held the silhouette of your body. You watched him with a hint of confusion.

“I just went to the bathroom, Bob. I wasn't going to leave. Why didn't you stay asleep?"

He didn't respond. He looked at you as if he were trying to absorb you with his eyes, as if your presence alone wasn't enough to quell the restlessness he'd felt during those minutes of absence.

Bob wasn't an easy man to read, not even when he gave in to exhaustion, as if all his emotions were seeping through a tiny crack. But there, in that barely tense stillness, you understood. He wasn't worried about your absence, but rather reacting to the possibility of being alone. Again. To the fleeting image of an empty bed in the middle of the night.

Suddenly, without a word, he leaned toward you. He rested his forehead against yours, closed his eyes, and then his lips sought yours with a silent urgency. Not hunger, not passion, just need. Like someone clinging to an edge to avoid falling.

You let him do it, without asking any more questions. You responded with slow, sustained kisses, not meant to heal him, just to let him know you were there.

He clung to your waist, wrapped his arms around you, and buried himself against your body as if he wanted to disappear into your skin. He didn't stop kissing you, not even when he laid you back on the mattress. You hugged him back, caressing the back of his neck, his back, his shoulders. You no longer tried to guess what was troubling him; you had learned that he didn't need to be interrogated, but rather to be enveloped.

His caresses weren't meant to be lascivious, but simply a quiet need for contact. When he finished kissing you, he buried his face against your chest and, as if that weren't enough, tangled a leg between yours. You noticed he was still tense, even in that embrace that should have been a relief.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, slowly stroking the back of his neck.

Bob nodded, but hesitantly.

“No, nothing. I just... wondered if this is... too much.” His voice was a broken whisper, as if he didn’t know how to say it without ruining the moment. “Am I being... clingy?”

"Why do you say that?"

“I don’t want to suffocate you”

You let out a low laugh, so soft it barely vibrated in your chest. You kissed his temple and then stroked him again, more deliberately, your nails barely grazing his scalp.

“You don’t, love. I’m fine. Excellent, in fact.”

After your confession, he relaxed a little, but didn't let go of the hug. You, without rushing him, continued to tangle your fingers in his hair.

"I like it when you say nice things like that to me. You know, when you call me love and all that..."

“With that little, pretty face it’s impossible to contain myself.”

Your eyes were already closed when you said that, but both he and you knew there was a small smile on the other one face. After a few seconds, you began to hum a melody without words, soft and repetitive, with the calm rhythm of someone who doesn't need to think.

Bob could feel the vibrations in your throat and tried to focus on it, as if it were a lullaby to help him fall asleep. Eventually, that, along with the massage you were giving him on his scalp, was enough to help him fall asleep. You knew he had done it when you felt his breathing take on a calmer, more steady rhythm against your body.

Even though you were exhausted, you still took a few minutes to meditate. Having him like this, practically fused against you, clinging to you as if he feared you'd evaporate, begging for kisses in hopes of drowning whatever demon was tormenting him now, you wondered how bad it would be to have him in your house more often. Except for your parents, you weren't good at sharing your living space with anyone else. But Bob made you want it, like you suddenly wished you two were serious, formal, and maybe even settled down with him. At first, the thought made you smile. A moment later, it completely terrified you.

Bob wasn't the perfect man, and you definitely weren't the perfect woman. But in that moment, you felt like you were what each other needed. Reflecting, you stroked his head a little more until you felt your own body giving in, surrendering to the rest you so longed for.

Before slipping into unconsciousness, you concluded that, even though you didn't know what the future would hold, you were determined to enjoy the present. For the moment, that was more than enough.

taglist: @littlemsbumblebee @qardasngan

[randominchident]

how f1 boys would react

if they found out girlfriend!reader wasn’t eating enough

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. drivers included⋆ 𐙚 ̊. MV33, LN4, OP81, CL16, CS55, AA23, LH44

max verstappen

does not take it lightly

when he realizes he doesn’t get angry, but he gets very quiet—which is somehow worse

stares at you for a second after you offhandedly mention "forgetting" lunch again, trying to brush off his offer to go out to eat

“You didn’t eat. Again?”

starts watching you more closely—asking what you had, when, how much

blunt and direct, not because he’s mad at you but because he’s worried for you

starts making you food without asking, silently putting it next to you at your desk or on the coffee table when you're watching tv

“just eat half, okay? I’ll finish the rest”

if you so much as hesitate, he nudges the plate closer and says, “I’m serious. You need to eat, schat.”

looks at you with those serious blue eyes like he’s silently begging you to take care of yourself

lando norris

probably tries to keep it lighthearted at first—“wait, you skipped lunch? that’s illegal”

but when he realizes it’s a pattern, the joking stops

suddenly he’s serious, soft voice, hand holding and all: “Hey. You can tell me if something’s going on.”

he would be desperate to do anything that could help: offers to cook, order food, literally feed you himself if it’ll help

gives you that worried look with the furrowed brows and pouty mouth that makes your heart ache

“I’m not gonna let you skip meals, love. No way.”

sends “have you eaten?” texts constantly, even when he’s halfway across the world, with photos of his own lunch attached

extra cuddly on days he notices you struggling—like feeding you bites from his own plate and pressing kisses to your cheek

he will FaceTime you mid-day just to make sure you’ve eaten, don’t test him

oscar piastri

soft but firm

he notices the signs quickly and gets this quiet crease between his brows

“When’s the last time you ate?” he asks, glancing at you, and the look in his eye makes it impossible to lie to him

he becomes the king of cozy, nourshing meals: soups, pasta, noodle soups

“Here. Just a little bit, please.”

when you hesitate, he offers quietly, “We can talk about it if you want. I’m not upset, I just want to understand.”

never pressures, but gently insists on shared meals after that—“if I’m eating, you’re eating” becomes the rule

“We’ll eat together, okay? I’ll make something simple.”

looks out for you in such a calm and steady way it breaks you a little

gives the warmest hugs after meals, like you just did something incredibly important (because you did)

charles leclerc

you bring it up to him that you're been stuggling with meals again

panics slightly inside but tries to stay composed

“Mon amour… why didn’t you say anything before?”

very affectionate and worried, constantly touching your arm or brushing your hair back

drops everything else he needs to do that day and asks, “What would make it easier?”

“You need to take care of yourself… It hurts me to see you like this.”

sends you random texts like “Have you eaten, ma belle?”

starts cooking at home more often even if he’s bad at it—knowing going out to eat would be more stress inducing

lots of soft forehead kisses, long hugs from behind, and quiet “I love you”s while you eat

carlos sainz

goes full nurturing boyfriend mode

“No, no, no. This is not okay. You need to eat, mi amor. No excuses.”

pulls you into the kitchen and starts chopping veggies like he’s in a cooking show and narrating everything... this is to keep you strong, this will make it taste extra good, this will keep you healthy

insists you sit down while he makes something—“Relax, I’ll take care of you”

gets very serious if he suspects it’s more than just stress or forgetfulness

checks in more often after that, makes sure you have snacks, even carries some around for you (just incase)

“You take care of me all the time. Let me take care of you now.”

will absolutely feed you bites of food and won’t stop until he sees you smile

alex albon

his face drops the first time he realizes you’re not eating enough

goes from sunshine to serious in half a second

“Babe… that’s not good. Like, really not good.”

will wrap his arms around you and just hold you for a moment before saying anything else

“You don’t have to go through this by yourself, you know?”

super gentle about it, but clearly worried

will cook everything with you—like, “let’s make lunch together” becomes a daily ritual

tries to make it fun and lighthearted but also builds routines that help you without overwhelming you

“You deserve to feel good. You deserve to eat. You deserve to take up space.”

lewis hamilton

absolutely heartbroken when he finds out

you don’t even have to explain—he knows something’s off

sits you down and speaks with that soft, soothing voice

“Your body deserves nourishment. You deserve love—from yourself, too.”

He never demands answers. Just opens space: “If something’s going on, I want to understand. But we don’t have to rush that conversation.”

offers to meditate or journal with you, knowing it’s not just about food but your mental health too

incredibly nurturing but never patronizing—treats you like someone who needs support, not fixing

“We’re in this together, always. I’ve got you.”

[plethorawrites]

can I request Damian x reader but reader is like the opposite she’s clumsy and messy (NOT DIRTY SHES JUST NOT REALLY ORGANIZED) and at first Damian is like no way I could ever like someone like that but then he’s like oh shit I think I like her you don’t have to do it but it was just an idea

(A/N- This has been sitting in my drafts for a bit because people are STILL calling me racist, so I've seriously considered wiping Damian from my page completely. But I love him as a character way too much to do that, so here we are!) (Requests are open again, btw!)

---

Despite being rather pretentious because of his upbringing, I think anytime Damian Wayne is assigned to do a group project, he'd want to go to someone else's house. They usually live in squalor (Middle class) but he deals with it for a few hours because it beats having his classmates fawning over his older brother's or asking his dad if he really used to date Harvey Dent or if that's just a rumor.

Usually, despite the condition of the house (Aka having a dish rack on the counter.) the room they'd work in was pretty clean. But you? Oh, no, no, no. He almost had a heart attack when he saw the state of catastrophe your study room was in.

Books on the ground instead of on the shelves, chair pulled out from the desk instead of tucked in, tons of sticky notes scattered on the walls and reminders pinned up. No one could have that short of a memory, could they? You seemed to.

The number of loose papers on the desk, the open notebooks with illegible writing, fidget toys to relieve stress or increase your focus, cups from when you needed coffee for a late-night study session that hadn't made it all the way to the dishwasher yet. (But it was on the sticky note! Right under the reminder to check your email.

Was that a thing people needed to remember to do?

He was utterly perplexed by the chaos you seemed so comfortable in. What he found most odd though, was how you never made any effort to fix it. He had been to your house three times thus far, trying to make a dent in the project that would take at least another week and each time, your room was the same. He even offered to help you organize (For his own sanity) but you turned him down, claiming you liked it how it was.

"How could anyone possibly like studying like this?" he questioned.

You shrugged. "I find having a pristine desk makes me uncomfortable, like I'm not actually doing work in a space I can relax in," you explained. "Plus, research shows environments like this increase brain productivity."

Damian wasn't sure if he believed that for a single second. But you clearly seemed to.

"But it's so messy," he muttered, motioning to your desk, so covered in God knows what that he couldn't even see what color the wood was.

"It's disorganized, not messy," you retorted. "And I know where everything is. Pencil sharper is by the white out because I use both rarely, erasers are where all the pencils are because I stab the led into them when I'm bored, highlighters are the ruler, which is.... under the syllabus I printed at the start of the year."

You pointed at everything as you said it and he slowly came to the realization that you weren't lying when you said you weren't messy. You kind of, in some weird way, had a system that worked.

Still, it felt uncomfortable for him. For a while. He'd watch you chew on your pencil and reach for tape that came from he didn't even know where, seemingly materializing things out of thin air. You barely even sat in the chair, he realized. He was always the one sitting in it, watching you sit or lay on the floor.

The only time Damian was ever on the floor was when Titus knocked him down or he got beat by his brothers during sparring. (Not that it ever happened..psh, no, don't be absurd.)

He slowly got a bit more accustomed to your room, even starting to find a bit of comfort whenever he stepped into it. It was welcoming, in a way, he'd come to think. When had that happened?

"Aren't you supposed to leave by eight?" you asked him, stretching your arms over your head as you sat on the floor across from him.

Damian frowned, looking at the time. He realized it was already 7:55. Had it already been four hours? It seemed like he just sat down on your rug, which, was surprisingly comfortable.

He hated to admit how much more productive he felt sitting on the floor than at a desk. "Uh, yes, right," he nodded, standing up and stretching as well. "I think we can probably get this finished by Tuesday," he added, feeling a weird pang of disappointment by the thought.

You nodded. "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow at four, then," you told him, watching as he packed up his books neatly, the pages fitting back in the nice folder perfectly. "Unless you wanna stay," you suddenly found yourself offering. "For dinner, I mean. If...if you want to. No pressure."

Damian paused, caught off guard by invitation. He stared at you for a few minutes, lips parting but words not leaving his mouth. Dinner? That was probably going to last at least an hour or two. Longer if your parents were the kind to serve dessert or chat a lot. He might not get home until ten or later.

"Sure," he agreed abruptly, though logically he knew he should refuse. He was supposed to be asleep by nine so he could get some rest before patrol. "I'd love to stay for dinner," he remarked, setting his bag back down for what wasn't one or two hours like planned, but four and a half.

How he would explain getting home past midnight to his father, he wasn't sure yet. But he'd find a reasonable excuse. After all, his dad was the one who told him to find normal friends and he was just doing what he asked.

...You were just his friend, right?

[grandline-fics]

okay, so, it’s rainy and dark and i’ve got a nice scented candle burning—truly immaculate PEAK cozy vibes, basically, and it just made me think of how some of the older one piece dudes would enjoy spending some nice cozy quality time with an s/o. definitely mihawk, i think, but i’d also be very interested in croc, shanks, and/or smoker, if you have the inclination. love your work, have a great day, thank you for feeding us quality content

DESCRIPTION: Quiet, cosy quality time with them

WARNINGS: none, just fluff. small amount of insecurity in Smoker's

CHARACTERS: Mihawk, Shanks, Smoker

WORDS: 1,891

A/N: Thank you for this request! I love the cosy prompts so much and this was so nice to work on. I hope you like what I managed to come up with for this

First fic written with the new laptop. Guys it's such a relief to be able to write without fear it's all going to die and I'll lose everything. Here's some fluff and I hope you all enjoy! 💕

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI

————————

MIHAWK

Mihawk thrives in the quiet, he knows the life of a pirate and the fighting will always bring noise and chaos and the constant sound of attacks and the song of his sword slicing through those that he’s deemed his prey. Since founding Cross Guild the noise has only seemed to grow, no thanks to the clown and his rowdy followers. In a way he is in a small part grateful to the increased noise because now in moments like these, in the time he spends with you, he savours the peace so much more. From the shared bathroom he looked up at the sound of the door opening and offered you a small, calm smile when you emerged. 

You’d been out on your own mission and had just returned but managed to get caught in the torrential rain on the walk back to the base. After a successful hunt and stretch of time away, the hot water, fresh change of clothes, and being back in your own sanctuary with Mihawk was already working wonders. Immediately you crossed the space and settled on the sofa beside him, curling up against his side and letting out a long content hum. The lazy smile on your lips grew when you felt Mihawk press a tender kiss against the side of your head. 

The heat from the shower still clung to your skin and he curled his arm around you, squeezing you just another fraction closer even though you were already as close as you possibly could but still he needed just a little bit more. You were always happy to comply, pressing more and wrapping your arm over his chest and laying your head against him. As the heavy rain fell against the windows you felt your body grow even more relaxed. After letting out a long yawn you rubbed your eyes and focussed on the book in Mihawk’s hand, your mind sharpening slightly to crane you head back enough to look at him.

“Is that one of my books?” You asked with a small smile while Mihawk turned the book to show the cover to you, in false, innocent curiosity. 

“It would seem so.” He mused idly, adjusting the book to continue reading while letting you see which part he was at. 

“Oh my favourite part’s coming up!” You softly gasped with as much enthusiasm as your sleepy, relaxed body could manage. You looked to Mihawk once more, not surprised to see he was already meeting your gaze. You never knew how it was possible but the sharp, shining gold in his gaze filled you with a reassuring warmth and steadiness. “Will you read to me?”

“Of course I will.” Mihawk’s simple compliance to your request was so soft but made you smile broadly and you settled back down. As Mihawk’s deep, comforting voice began to read to you and fill the room it melded perfectly with the sound of rainfall and pulled you into the purest and strongest feeling of calm and protection. Eventually Mihawk paused in his reading, gaze softening to see you were fast asleep. Gracing another loving kiss against your head Mihawk returned to reading aloud for you to ensure he honoured his promise to you and that you heard your favourite part.

SHANKS

There isn’t much time or opportunity for you and Shanks to enjoy one-on-one quality time where it’s simply just the two of you and didn’t include when you were in bed together. Without fail you’re both surrounded by the crew as you sail, when you fight your enemies, and when you’re settled on an island for the chance to party and resupply. Even on the quieter days on the open water the two of you were not left to your own devices, there would always be someone-usually most of the crew- wanting either of your attentions in some capacity. Neither of you felt annoyed by the dynamic and constant presence of the crew in your free time, both of you were used to it by now. It just meant that when those singular little moments did occur they were embraced and made the most of all the more.

You woke first, curled up on your side with Shanks’ arm curved around you protectively, holding you tight against his chest and his head pressed as close as possible in the curve of your neck. For just a moment as you felt the haze of sleep lift from your relaxed frame you enjoyed the warmth of Shanks’ body and soaked in as much as the peace and quiet as you could of the early morning. You listened keenly to the slow rock of the ship and gentle lapping of water but there was no other sign of life. Then you remembered that you’d docked on an island, so many of the crew had scattered the night before to make the most of all they could see, do, eat and drink so it was correct to assume they found other places on land to lay their heads. Knowing this was a safe harbour, very few remained on board. Which meant…

You blinked and a slow grin spread on your lips as the realisation dawned on you. Ordinarily you would have just laid as long as possible but this was your chance to have time with Shanks without it just being in bed or with the constant chance of interruptions. Slowly you adjusted your position and managed to push yourself up just enough to smile at Shanks, amusement growing when his calm expression immediately shifted into one of childish annoyance. Even asleep your presence was something he was keenly attuned to and the added distance-no matter how small- was felt. “Shanks, wake up.”

“Just five more minutes, love.” Shanks mumbled, trying to pull you back against him again. You let out a soft breathy laugh and leant in just to press a quick kiss against his cheek.

“Shanks,” you sang out pulling back a little more this time, grinning when he pouted and cracked his eyes open. “Listen, no crew.”

“No crew,” Shanks repeated, his eyes sharpening just enough to show you he was waking. You began to inch closer to the edge of the bed, smiling the more Shanks’ expression shifted as he watched your movements. He wasn’t ready to get out of bed just yet and if he was he needed convincing.

“Lucky’s not here to guard the kitchen.” You coaxed him softly and Shanks grinned at the sparkle in your eyes, already anticipating the words forming in your mouth. “Let’s make pancakes!”

With a grin Shanks immediately followed you out of bed and to the empty kitchen. Any time Lucky left his inner sanctum unsupervised you and Shanks took it upon yourselves to show you were capable cooks.

By the time the both of you managed to make an edible batch of pancakes there was flour and batter on your skin and dusted in your hair, and all over the kitchen. With the kitchen looking like a canon ball hit you you and Shanks sat happily together, at peace and smiling, only focussed on the other and already planning what else to do with the limited alone time together before the crew made their presences known again.

SMOKER

Everyone knew Smoker was a gruff, abrasive, typically no nonsense man. If anyone thought lighthearted, soft, calming his face usually wouldn’t be the first thing that came to mind. Smoker knew how he was perceived, he was aware fully of his personality. Which was why it left him confused at times in how it came to be that you reciprocated his feelings and gave him a chance. Even more puzzling to him was that you continued to stay with him, always smiling and enjoying his company. Enjoying him. You were both busy with your constant workloads. Smoker being on long missions more than you meant the quality time together was sparse and when he did have his paperwork caught up on and had a day off, more often than not he was tired. Still you never complained and as Smoker glanced at you as you made coffee for your both, his frown deepened.

You approached the sofa and handed him his coffee, made exactly how he liked it, smiling softly as you settled down to lounge beside him. Smoker immediately adjusted his own position to let you settle your back against his chest. Wordlessly he handed you the morning paper and a pen. This was the routine it seemed, you worked through the crossword and he let himself relax from a long mission. Now that he thought about it, really thought about it, the whole thing seemed unfair. Sometimes he barely made conversation with you, especially if the mission had been a long and stressful one. Smoker sighed and dropped his arm to rest loosely around you. You let out a soft hum and lay your head against him more, sipping on your drink and pen absently tapping against the paper as you read over the clues. After a while he spoke up. “Is this okay?”

“Hm?” You asked, turning your head to look at him gently. Then you smiled broadly. “More than okay. You’re very comfy to lean against. You’re like a fluffy, smokey cloud.”

“That’s…reassuring but that’s not what I meant.” Smoker cleared his throat, glancing away for a moment. When he looked back at you again, you’d sat up and turned to face him. Your smile now turned to worry. “I meant is this okay with us? Are you happy that this is how we spend our alone time?”

“What’s wrong with it?” You asked curiously and Smoker felt relief to see your worry had receded now that he had explained himself a little better. “How should it be?”

“Well I don’t know…I just don’t want you missing out on exciting dates like the others seem to constantly talk about.”

“Ah, you’ve been listening to your subordinates again.” You mused with a growing grin. “I think we live exciting enough lives as it is. Getting to just put our feet up and relax? That’s the best, Smoker and it’s made perfect when I have you here with me. I’m happy, are you?”

“Yes, very happy.” Smoker admitted with a small smile pulling at his lips, feeling like a weight had been lifted. With a small nod and satisfied smile you returned to your previous position while Smoker leant back and let his eyes close as the usual tranquility settled over you both again. “Oh, you should know this one: ‘another word for adorable’…What do you think?”

“Cute?” Smoker guessed, cracking an eye open to see you’d craned your head back to look at him with a playful grin.

“Nope…” You laughed, lifting your paper to show you’d already answered the clue, filling the spaces to read  ’S-M-O-K-E-R-♡‘

Smoker blinked at the answer and then at you, feeling the tips of his ears heat and tinge a light pink as he quickly grabbed a cushion and lightly hit you on the head with it as your giggles filled the room. He allowed himself a small chuckle of his own as he admitted to himself that yes, the time with you, no matter what it was you did was more than ‘okay.’

——————————————-

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[wbbfannnnnn13]

Motion Sick // Chapter 10

Theme: pazzi

A/N: this chapter is definitely a turning point in the plot. wrote most of this late last night and my motivation to go back and edit is dwindling with each chapter so hopefully it all makes sense lol.

Warnings: angst, cussing

WC: 6.2K

**** Chapter 10 ****

She didn’t remember falling asleep like this.

At first, Paige wasn’t even fully awake—just floating somewhere between a dream and a memory, the kind of half-conscious state where everything felt warm and slow and too familiar. Then came the pressure. The weight of something—or someone—across her chest, a slow, steady exhale against her neck.

Her eyes blinked open.

Azzi.

Curled into her. Hand twisted into the fabric of Paige’s shirt like an anchor. One leg flung over her hips. Her face tucked right beneath Paige’s jaw like it belonged there.

It was a full-body cuddle. No half-measures. Olympic-level snuggling.

Paige stared at the ceiling, frozen, trying to play it cool. Like this wasn’t the emotional equivalent of a defibrillator to the chest.

Because this—this wasn’t how the night started.

They’d had space between them. Paige had even made a point to put a pillow down the middle of the bed, like some invisible boundary neither of them had the nerve to name out loud. Respect. That’s what she told herself. Respect for Azzi. For Lexi. For the fact that this wasn’t… whatever it used to be.

But sometime between the tears and the quiet and the impossible closeness of grief, and maybe something else, the pillow must’ve slipped to the floor. And they’d found their way to each other anyway.

Autopilot. Muscle memory. Whatever it was, it felt too good.

She let it linger. Let Azzi sleep, the rhythm of her breath soft against Paige’s collarbone.

Just a little longer.

Because she didn’t get this anymore—Azzi, this close, without all the noise between them. Without expectations or confusion or other people’s names in the mix. 

Paige knew she should move.

The smart thing would be to gently slide out from under her, pretend like it hadn’t happened, and maybe throw the pillow back in place for good measure.

But she didn’t.

You know—boundaries. Respect. Self-preservation.

Because her body remembered this. The way Azzi fit into her like they’d been designed in the same blueprint. The way even asleep, she clung like she didn’t want to let go.

And yeah, Paige should probably be alarmed by how fast all that muscle memory kicked in. But instead, all she could do was lay there, heart doing gymnastics, trying to convince herself that enjoying it for one more minute didn’t make her a complete idiot.

Just a partial one.

She let her eyes flutter shut for one more breath.

One more heartbeat.

But her conscience caught up before her heart could spiral too far.

With a quiet sigh, Paige shifted just slightly—tightening her arms around Azzi for one last second, like pressing pause on a dream she already knew she couldn’t keep.

Then she gave her a gentle squeeze.

“Hey,” she whispered, voice still husky from sleep. “Time to wake up.”

Azzi stirred, a quiet groan escaping as she blinked herself awake. She shifted just enough to realize where she was—and then immediately jolted back.

“Shit—”

She rolled straight off the edge of the bed with a loud thump.

Paige sat up fast. “Jesus, Azzi—your knee!”

“I’m okay!” Azzi popped up halfway, wincing as she rubbed the back of her leg. “God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Relax,” Paige said, biting back a smile. “You didn’t exactly seduce me in my sleep.”

She meant it as a joke. Light. Easy. The kind of thing that would float away if they both ignored it fast enough.

But her heart was racing—traitorous, uncooperative, and fully committed to the bit.

Azzi’s face flushed deep pink. “Still. That was—way too cozy.”

Paige could’ve shrugged it off. Should’ve.

But the warmth of Azzi’s body was still lingering on her skin, and the way she’d curled into her like it was instinct—yeah, that wasn’t nothing.

“Old habits,” Paige teased. “Die hard.”

Cool. Great. Let’s just throw that live grenade into the room and see what happens. The words came out before she could second guess them. And once they were out there, she felt the shift.

That electric hum of something unspoken stretching between them, taut and too alive.

She didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just watched as Azzi stared back like she felt it too.

Azzi sat at the foot of the bed, rubbing her knee. Paige watched her, heart hammering like it had no interest in subtlety today.

There was a pull. The kind that didn’t care about timing or context or the name of the girl Azzi was supposed to be with now. Paige felt it rising, like tidewater, slow but certain.

Azzi’s eyes met hers, and for a breath too long, neither of them looked away.

Then Paige blinked, cleared her throat. “Thanks, by the way. For staying. I—really needed…” Her voice caught. Not you. “…that.”

Azzi gave her a sleepy half-smile. “Yeah, of course. You know I’ll throw hands if I see Kathryn, right?” She stretched her arms out with a soft groan, then added, “Might have to limp my way through it, but I’ll still land the first hit.”

Paige huffed a laugh. “God, please don’t. I don’t need you getting suspended over a clout-chasing soccer girl.”

Even if it would be kinda satisfying.

Azzi shrugged. “Just say the word.”

“I’m good,” Paige said, grinning despite herself. “She’s doing a great job tanking her own reputation anyway.”

Azzi let out a low laugh and rubbed her knee again.

Her heart did that annoying flutter thing it had no business doing.

She tried to keep it cool. Chill. Just two teammates-turned-best friends-turned-whatever-they-were-now, cracking jokes about Paige’s situationship imploding. Totally normal. Definitely not emotionally confusing at all.

They lingered a moment longer, like maybe one of them was going to say something that mattered. Something stupid and brave and real.

But neither did.

“I should go,” Azzi said finally. “I’ve got rehab soon.”

Paige nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

And just like that, the quiet came back.

Not heavy. Not light.

Just… unfinished.

Azzi

She could still feel Paige.

Not in some poetic, soul-aching way. Just literally.

Like her skin hadn’t caught up to the fact that they weren’t touching anymore. The warmth, the weight, the way their legs had fit together like they were still seventeen and reckless—it all lingered.

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep like that.

But sometime in the middle of the night, her body forgot the lines they were supposed to be drawing now. It didn’t feel dangerous at the time. Just natural. Easy.

And waking up with Paige’s arm still around her, the steady rhythm of her chest rising and falling beneath Azzi’s cheek—it felt like breathing.

The kind of sleep you don’t realize you’ve been missing until it finds you again.

Paige had nudged her awake with a squeeze so gentle it barely registered. And still, her heart did that dumb flutter thing. Like it hadn’t learned its lesson the first time around. Like she wasn’t the one who walked away from what could’ve been. 

Now, the chill of the morning air followed her as she turned the corner toward her dorm, hair still a mess, phone still on Do Not Disturb.

“Look who finally decided to show up.”

Lexi’s voice rang out before Azzi saw her, light and teasing. She was leaning against the side entrance of the building, arms crossed, hair still damp from a shower.

Azzi startled slightly. “Jeez. Were you waiting for me?”

“I stopped by earlier. Thought maybe you overslept or died or something. You never texted me back.”

Azzi fished out her phone. Three missed texts.

lexi good morning :) u good? az??

“Oh—crap. Sorry. I just woke up a little bit ago.”

Lexi tilted her head, clearly curious. “Where’d you crash?”

Azzi paused.

Her first instinct was to keep it vague. Say she stayed with a teammate. But she hadn’t done anything wrong. Even if it felt like she had.

“I was with Paige,” she said finally. “She needed someone. After the Kathryn stuff blew up. I just… stayed for a bit.”

There was a flicker. Something behind Lexi’s smile that shifted for a second, like a light dimming. But it was gone before Azzi could say for sure.

“Oh,” Lexi said. “Okay. That makes sense.”

She pushed off the wall casually. “Well, c’mon. I’ll walk you in for rehab.”

Azzi blinked. “You don’t have to—”

Lexi was already at her side. “I want to.”

It didn’t seem like a big deal.

Except… somehow it was.

Maybe it was just the way Lexi always jumped in—confident, certain, never needing permission. Normally Azzi liked that about her. But this morning, it felt different. A little too much. A little too fast.

And maybe she was just tired. Maybe she was overthinking.

But as they fell into step together, Azzi couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Not wrong, exactly. Just not right. Because deep down, what she wanted—what she ached for—was something more familiar.

****

By the time Azzi stepped into the lounge, the team had fully settled into their usual pre-practice chaos.

Caroline was stretched out on the floor with one sock on and one sock mysteriously missing. Amari had claimed the entire couch with her limbs like a starfish in recovery. And Aubrey was tucked into the oversized chair in the corner, sipping something green and aggressive-looking, eyes half-focused on whatever TikTok she was pretending not to watch.

It was loud. Lived-in. Familiar.

And Azzi wasn’t even halfway through the door before Caroline clocked her.

“Oh good, Sleeping Beauty returns. So…” Her voice went up an octave, all fake innocence. “How was last night?”

Azzi blinked. “What?”

Amari snorted. “Don’t play dumb. You stayed over at Paige’s, right?”

“I didn’t stay over—” Azzi began.

“You literally weren’t in your dorm,” Caroline said, already grinning like she had receipts.

Azzi opened the mini fridge, grabbed a water bottle, and stared into it like it might offer an escape route.

“She just needed someone, okay? It was late. I stayed for a little bit.”

“Define ‘a little bit,’” Aubrey murmured without looking up.

Azzi sighed. “Y’all are so annoying.”

Caroline rolled onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows. “We’re invested. It’s different.”

Azzi finally flopped into a beanbag and pulled her hood up. “Nothing happened,” she muttered.

Amari raised both eyebrows. “Sure, but like… did nothing happen? Or are you just trying to protect her dignity?”

Caroline elbowed her. “Leave her alone. You know Azzi blushes at eye contact.”

“I do not—”

“Az, you blushed last week when the smoothie guy asked if you wanted protein.”

“That was a weirdly personal question,” Azzi grumbled.

Aubrey snorted softly. “Y’all better chill before she combusts.”

Azzi didn’t say anything. Mostly because she couldn’t argue with it.

She was just about to fake a nap and ride out the conversation when the lounge door creaked open.

And everything paused.

Paige walked in like she was used to this kind of reception now—backpack slung over one shoulder, hoodie sleeves shoved up, and that practiced kind of calm people wore when they knew the whole room had been talking about them two seconds ago.

She glanced around the room, eyebrows raised.

“So,” she said slowly, “we all just freeze when I walk in now? That’s the new vibe?”

Caroline cracked first, laughing. “Only because we were saying mean things about your ex and didn’t want to get caught.”

I liked a TikTok comment calling Kathryn a desperate D-list micro-influencer,” Amari offered. “Which, honestly, was generous.”

Paige cracked the faintest smile, but shook her head. “Okay no, we’re not starting a smear campaign on my behalf. Let’s not add bully ex-girlfriend to my list of brand problems.”

Caroline shrugged. “Too late. She honestly deserves it.”

Paige gave her a look. “Okay, yeah, but I still don’t need a whole PR crisis on top of the emotional one.” She paused, then pointed across the room. “Also, let’s not forget Aubrey was the one who told me to give her a chance because she ‘seemed grounded’ or whatever.”

Aubrey looked up, unbothered. “Yo, I didn’t know what she was tryna do. I thought she was, like, chill.” She lifted her smoothie. “And I wasn’t the only one, okay?”

Caroline held up both hands. “All I said was she was funny in the class I took with her last semester. That’s not matchmaking, that’s an observation.”

Paige gave them all a deadpan look. “Cool. Noted. Never listening to any of you again.”

That got a few laughs, but then it quieted for a second—just enough for the mood to shift.

Caroline was the first to soften. “No, but seriously, P… that was a messed-up thing she did. For real.”

Amari nodded. “Yeah. Like, clown behavior. You didn’t deserve that.”

Even Aubrey, still clutching her half-melted smoothie, glanced up. “We joke because we love you. But we mean it.”

Paige blinked, caught off guard for a second. Her smile tilted, just barely.

“I know,” she said, quieter now. “Thanks, guys.”

The room settled into a quieter kind of comfort. Not silence, exactly, but something a little heavier. A little more true.

And from her spot on the beanbag, Azzi felt it in her chest.

The way Paige softened under the support. The way she didn’t flinch from it.

Even after everything—after getting played by someone who didn’t see her, didn’t deserve her—Paige was still here. Still cracking jokes, still lifting the weight in the room that no one else could quite carry.

And Azzi didn’t understand how.

How you could get hurt like that—publicly, humiliatingly—and still show up with something to offer. A smile. A joke. A whole freaking presence that made people feel better just by being in the room.

It wrecked her, a little.

Because that was the thing about Paige.

She didn’t just move on quietly—she moved through.

She let things hurt. Let them bruise and stretch her. But somehow, she never let it make her bitter.

Azzi had always admired that. Even back when things between them were easy—or as easy as they could ever be.

Paige had always been the steady one. The kind one. The person who remembered when a teammate’s little sister was in the hospital and showed up with a card and snacks like it was second nature. The one who stayed after practice to rebound for a freshman having a meltdown. The one who could make you feel seen with a single look and understood without needing to ask.

Azzi remembered watching her back then—when no one was paying attention—and thinking, God, how does she do that?

How does she make space for everyone else, even when it’s obvious no one’s made space for her?

That had been the first thing to get her. Not the jump shot. Not the hype. Not the way Paige could take over a game like it was nothing.

It was her heart.

Always her heart.

Even now, when it should’ve been shattered, she was still showing up like she had something left to give.

And Azzi felt herself drawn to it—softly, steadily—not in a way that scared her anymore, but in a way that made her wonder if this was what she’d been circling all along.

Not something she’d been trying to escape.

Something she’d been afraid to reach for.

Because back then, everything with Paige had felt too big. Too consuming.

Not in a bad way. Just… overwhelming.

It was all so easy between them, until it wasn’t. Until Azzi realized how much of herself she was handing over without knowing what that meant.

She told herself she needed space. That she was figuring things out. That there were pieces of her identity she hadn’t even started to name, let alone share.

And that was true.

But there was something else, too.

Something she hadn’t really admitted—not out loud, not even in her own head.

That what she had with Paige had felt so real, so rooted, so certain, it made her question if she deserved it. If she was ready for something that steady.

And maybe that’s why she kept pulling back.

Not because she didn’t want it.

But because some part of her was scared of what it would mean to want it fully. To choose it.

To let herself be chosen, too.

And now, sitting across the room, watching Paige laugh through the mess, still carrying everyone else like she wasn’t the one hurting—Azzi felt the pull again.

Not sharp. Not sudden.

Just... familiar. Deep. Steady in a way that made her chest tighten.

And for the first time, she didn’t try to silence it.

She just let it sit there, in the quiet space between memory and possibility.

Because maybe it had never really gone away.

And maybe that mattered more than she was ready to admit.

The group had started to shuffle toward the gym, voices trailing off in pairs and clusters, sneakers squeaking faintly against the hallway floor. Paige hung back to grab her water bottle off the table.

Azzi hesitated. Then pushed off the beanbag and followed.

She didn’t call her name, just stepped up beside her, quiet for a beat.

Paige noticed her but didn’t say anything right away. Just offered a soft, tired smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Azzi bit the inside of her cheek, then finally asked, “Hey. Are you actually okay?”

Paige blinked, like she wasn’t expecting the question to come from her.

Then she looked down at the bottle in her hand, the condensation gathering between her fingers, and exhaled.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I think I will be. Eventually.”

Azzi nodded slowly. “You don’t have to be yet.”

Their eyes met then, and something passed between them—quiet and weighted and real.

Paige gave a small shrug. “Thanks for last night.”

Azzi smiled, a little shy. “You’re welcome.”

There was a pause. Not awkward. Just full.

And then Paige added, voice lower now, “It helped more than you know.”

Azzi’s throat tightened. “I kind of do,” she said.

They stood there a second longer. Not moving. Not explaining.

Then Paige glanced toward the hallway. “We should probably head in.”

Azzi nodded. “Yeah.”

But neither of them moved right away.

For a second, it felt like they were still back in that quiet space from the night before.

They walked out together, side by side.

Not touching. Not talking.

But the air between them felt different now.

Paige

She appreciated that her teammates didn’t coddle her.

No dramatic “you deserve better” speeches, no overdone pity. Just loyalty. The kind that looked like Amari offering to publicly ruin Kathryn’s life and Caroline texting her ten links to free background check services “just in case.”

Paige didn’t need anyone to fight her battles. She just needed to know they had her back if it came to that. And they did.

But the truth was… she wasn’t even sure what she was feeling.

She should’ve been spiraling. And in some ways, she was — Kathryn had used her. Lied to her. Built a whole thing on top of nothing real. That hurt. It sucked.

But under all the sad and angry and humiliated feelings, there was this weird sense of relief.

Because now, at least, she didn’t have to keep pretending. Pretending like she was fully in it. Pretending like her heart wasn’t somewhere else the entire time.

Kathryn using her feelings for Azzi as justification for what she did wasn’t right — not even close. But Paige couldn’t lie and say those feelings didn’t exist. Because they did.

Always had.

And if Azzi was out now — fully out, not just behind closed doors or in passing glances, but ready to be seen — Paige knew exactly where she stood.

She wasn’t going to wait around, hoping Azzi picked her again. She wasn’t going to stay on the sideline out of politeness, not if there was even the smallest chance.

She’d go get her.

Lexi or no Lexi.

Later, after practice, Paige stuck around to rebound for Caroline. It felt better than going back to her room, where the silence would ask too many questions she wasn’t ready to answer.

The gym was quieter now. Just the sound of sneakers squeaking and the occasional thud of a ball hitting rim.

Caroline caught the ball off the rim, dribbled once, then looked up.

“Hey,” she said, a little quieter. “I’m sorry, by the way.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “For what? Missing that last shot? Yeah, it was rough.”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “No, dumbass. For… pushing Kathryn. I didn’t mean to play matchmaker or anything, I just…” She shrugged. “I thought maybe it’d be good for you to try something new.”

Paige passed her the ball again. “You weren’t wrong. I needed to try something. I just didn’t realize I was trying so hard to feel something that wasn’t there.”

Caroline took the shot. It rimmed out. “Oof. That felt personal.”

Paige smiled, but it faded fast. She grabbed the rebound, dribbled once before passing it back to Caroline for another shot, then said, “You wanna know something kinda stupid?”

Caroline looked over. “Always.”

“I’ve been trying to sort through how I feel about everything,” Paige continued. “Like, yeah—I’m mad. Kathryn used me. Lied to me. Probably never liked me that much to begin with. But mostly?”

She looked over at Caroline. “I feel relieved. That it’s over. That I don’t have to keep pretending I was ever really all in with her.”

Caroline didn’t say anything. Just nodded, continuing to shoot. They fell into an easy rhythm—pass, shoot, rebound, repeat—until Caroline finally broke the silence.

“So…” she said, drawing out the word like a thread. “You gonna tell me about last night?”

Paige caught the rebound and passed it back, carefully. “You already know she stayed over.”

“Yeah, and I also know that when y’all have that particular kind of tension between you, staying over doesn’t exactly mean sleeping peacefully on opposite sides of the room.”

Paige let out a slow breath and moved toward the sideline, grabbing her water. “We did, actually. At first. I even put a pillow between us.”

Caroline lowered her hands like she’d just been told a tragic story. “Wow. Pillow wall. Bold.”

“Thank you,” Paige said dryly. “It felt like the responsible thing to do. But, uh… by morning, the pillow was on the floor. And Azzi was…” She trailed off, her ears going hot. “Basically on top of me.”

Caroline tried not to grin, but it crept out anyway. “So you’re telling me you cuddled up in your sleep and didn’t even wake up from it?”

Paige ran a hand through her hair. “I mean, I woke up. Eventually. She was all tangled up in me—hand fisted in my shirt, leg over mine, head tucked right under my chin like we used to—like it was nothing.”

Caroline stopped dribbling. “Damn.”

“I let it happen,” Paige said. “Let myself stay in it a little longer than I should’ve.”

She glanced at Caroline. “It didn’t feel wrong. That’s the part that gets me.”

Caroline nodded slowly, then said, “You still love her.”

It wasn’t a question.

Paige looked down at her hands. “I don’t think I ever really stopped.”

Caroline leaned back on her palms. “So what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” Paige said. “Part of me wants to wait, let Azzi figure it out. But the rest of me? The part that still remembers what it felt like to wake up with her right there?” She swallowed. “That part wants to fight for it.”

Caroline raised a brow. “Even if it means stepping on Lexi’s toes?”

Paige didn’t flinch. “Yeah. Even then.”

Caroline smirked. “Look at you. Better late than never, P.”

Paige laughed. “Took me long enough.”

She leaned back on her palms, eyes on the ceiling. “But I think… if she’s ready now, for real—I don’t want to miss it. I don’t want to keep pretending I’m over her when I never even came close.”

Caroline nodded. “Good. Then go get your girl.”

****

The past couple weeks had sucked.

There wasn’t really a more elegant way to put it.

They were supposed to be cruising right now—locked in, top of the rankings, untouchable. But with her and Azzi both sidelined, everything felt wobbly. Off-balance.

The team went 1–1. And yeah, technically that wasn’t a disaster, but it felt like one. The win was sloppy, the loss to Maryland was worse, and the energy was shot. Everyone was tired. Everyone was frustrated.

Everyone just wanted to feel normal again.

So when someone said, Let’s go out, no one argued.

And that’s how Paige ended up at Ted’s.

Drunk. Again.

Not just a little tipsy. Not fun buzzed.

No. This was full-blown, tequila-for-dinner, hope-no-one's-recording-this kind of drunk.

Which—honestly—had not been the plan.

She hadn’t walked in thinking, Tonight’s the night I lose all remaining dignity and forget how to use my limbs.

She’d actually come hoping for a moment with Azzi. Just one.

They hadn’t really hung out outside of practice and film sessions lately, and even when they did, it felt like there was always someone else in the way.

Specifically: Lexi.

Lexi had started showing up everywhere.

Like, yes, technically she had a right to be in the training room. But did she have to be there at the exact same time the entire team had scheduled rehab?

Paige had begun timing her water breaks around Lexi's entrances like it was a military operation.

She wasn’t hoping for a dramatic declaration tonight. Just… a chance to look at Azzi. Really look at her. And maybe say, Hey, I need to talk. Not a text. Not a weird hallway run-in. Just… a real conversation. One where I can say the things I’ve been holding onto for way too long.

She wanted to say it with her eyes. With the kind of softness that didn’t exist on screens. The kind that could only live in real-time.

But then Azzi walked in.

With Lexi.

Who apparently had a new full-time job as her personal shadow.

And Paige… lost it.

Not out loud. Not dramatically. But internally? Full spiral.

Because it wasn’t just that they walked in together. It was that they looked comfortable. Like they belonged in that doorway together. Like Paige had never even been part of the picture.

And sure, it was immature. She was well aware of that.

But she was also tired.

Of sitting out. Of waiting. Of holding things in while the world spun on without her.

So when Nika offered a shot, Paige took it.

When Amari joined in, Paige took another.

Caroline gave her a look. One that said really? without saying anything.

Aaliyah followed it up with her own mom-friend expression of disappointment.

Paige smiled at both of them. And then promptly did a third shot.

Because, screw it.

She hadn’t let go in months. Hadn’t allowed herself to be messy, or loud, or stupid.

And yeah, maybe this wasn’t the way she thought tonight would go.

Maybe she wanted something quieter. Something honest.

But that wasn’t on the table anymore.

So instead, she’d drink.

She’d laugh too loud and dance to songs she didn’t know and pretend like it didn’t gut her every time Azzi and Lexi disappeared into the crowd together.

Because if she couldn’t say what she needed to say—if the window was closing—then she at least deserved one night of not caring.

Or pretending not to.

Whichever came first.

Azzi

She was tired.

Not just end-of-the-week, too-many-classes, forgot-to-charge-her-headphones tired.

Like deep in her bones tired.

Like every movement costs something tired.

Her knee throbbed from another long day in the training room, and her back was stiff from overcompensating. Rehab had a way of grinding you down—physically, mentally, emotionally—until even small things started to feel like mountains.

And she hadn’t been sleeping great.

Which was weird, considering the other night in Paige’s bed had been the best sleep she’d had in weeks.

She tried not to think about that too much.

Lexi had wanted to go out tonight. Said it’d be good for Azzi to get out of her head. That she was starting to spiral with all the ice baths and team meetings and not being able to play.

And she wasn’t wrong.

Lexi usually wasn’t wrong.

That was part of the problem.

Because in a lot of ways, Lexi was great. And she was into Azzi. Like, really into her. Not in a performative way. Not for clout. Just genuinely all in.

Azzi could feel it in the way Lexi looked at her. The way she walked a little slower so they’d stay in step. The way she checked her schedule against Azzi’s PT appointments without making a big deal about it.

She wasn’t pushing things fast—at least not technically—but every once in a while, Lexi would hint.

About making things official.

About labels.

About being more than whatever this was.

And every time she did, Azzi felt herself do the thing she hated most:

Hesitate.

Not because Lexi wasn’t enough.

Lexi was kind and consistent and knew how to fold hospital corners into her bed sheets. She laughed at Azzi’s dry sarcasm and brought her protein bars she actually liked and never made her feel like a project to fix.

But something in Azzi’s chest stayed curled tight. Unopened.

Like a fist she didn’t know how to unclench.

It wasn’t fear—not of being seen, not of being known.

She was out. Her team knew. Her family knew. The world didn’t matter as much as she thought it would once.

But what if she was out with the wrong person? What if all this boldness, this slow unfolding, this finally knowing who she was—

Wasn’t meant to happen like this?

It felt too familiar. That tension in her chest. That voice in her head saying, not yet.

The same one that had whispered to her when Paige was standing right in front of her, asking her to choose.

She hadn’t back then. She hadn’t been ready.

And now?

Now she was dodging again.

Different girl. Same script.

Blonde hair. Blue eyes.

But not the right kind of blonde—not the summer-light strands she used to braid absentmindedly in hotel rooms.

Not the kind of blue that looked silver in the sun, that used to land on her like a question she never quite knew how to answer.

And it wasn’t fair to compare.

It wasn’t.

Lexi hadn’t done anything wrong. She showed up. She cared. She made Azzi laugh when everything else felt heavy.

So why did her brain keep doing it?

Why did she notice the shade of her hair, the curve of her smile, the way her eyes didn’t quite catch the light the same way?

Why did it feel like she was measuring everything against someone else—someone who wasn’t even hers anymore?

Azzi hated that she didn’t have a good answer.

****

She spotted her right away.

Paige was propped against the bar like she owned it—loose-limbed and flushed, eyes glassy in the way Azzi knew meant trouble. One hand on a shot glass, the other gesturing wildly at whatever joke Nika had just told.

She was laughing. Like full-body, head-thrown-back laughing.

And God, she looked good.

Which made everything worse.

Because then the first girl slid up beside her.

Tall. Auburn hair. Some kind of sorority energy. She leaned in too close and said something that made Paige tilt her head, smirk, and shrug like she wasn’t the one currently spiraling in real time.

Azzi’s stomach twisted.

She turned back toward Lexi for half a second. Tried to tune in to whatever she was saying about classes or playlists or who-knows-what.

Then another girl appeared.

This one in a backless top and low-rise jeans that should’ve been outlawed in the Midwest. She touched Paige’s arm when she spoke. Laughed too hard. Let her hand linger just a little too long.

Azzi didn’t even realize she’d stopped breathing until Lexi touched her wrist.

“You good?”

Azzi nodded too fast. “Yeah. Fine.”

Lie.

She wasn’t fine.

Not even close.

Because it kept happening.

Girl after girl.

Pretty. Bold. Drunk enough to be fearless.

And Paige—of course—wasn’t brushing them off.

She wasn’t entertaining it, not fully. But she also wasn’t running away.

She just stayed there. Let it happen. Let them orbit her like she didn’t already have someone who would’ve set the whole room on fire for one second of her attention. Like she didn’t even notice Azzi across the room.

Except—she did.

At one point, Paige looked up. Right at her.

Their eyes locked for half a second—just long enough to make Azzi’s stomach flip.

And then Paige smiled. Not at her. At the girl in front of her.

The girl said something, leaning in close, her hand resting lightly on Paige’s forearm.

Paige didn’t pull away.

She tilted her head. Laughed.

And Azzi felt it like a punch to the ribs.

Not because Paige owed her anything.

But because her body was reacting before her brain could catch up.

She looked away too fast. Blinked hard. Swallowed the burn in her throat.

She didn’t even know what she was mad about.

She’d made her choice.

Or at least… she hadn’t chosen Paige.

Which felt like the same thing.

It wasn’t even jealousy, not exactly. It was worse.

It was this ache—sharp and dizzying—that came from wanting something so badly and knowing she was the only one to blame for not having it.

Because Paige had wanted her.

Had chosen her, quietly and over and over, even when Azzi hadn’t been able to do the same.

And now Azzi was standing across the room, pretending like the sight of someone else touching Paige didn’t make her whole body feel like it was sliding out from under her.

Motion sickness.

That was the only way to describe it.

Like the floor kept shifting beneath her, and everyone else had found their balance except her.

She gripped the edge of the bar they were standing near, knuckles white.

Lexi reached for her hand.

Azzi let her.

But her eyes stayed locked on Paige.

And the thing about being this dizzy, this nauseous with wanting—

Is that it always comes with a choice:

Hold it in. Or let it all come crashing up.

And Azzi was starting to feel the crash coming.

Paige 

She felt it before she saw it.

That thing. That tether.

It flared up behind her ribs like a sixth sense—like something ancient in her body just knew.

She looked up, and there it was.

Azzi.

Across the room.

Eyes locked on her like they hadn’t already wasted months pretending they didn’t know what this was.

Paige’s breath caught, just for a second.

Azzi looked like the kind of ache you didn’t admit out loud. Hoodie sleeves bunched around her wrists, lip caught between her teeth, standing there like Paige wasn’t the one falling apart three feet away.

She looked good. Too good.

Even now, injured, flannel-wrapped, arms folded in that defensive stance she took when she felt too much.

Paige felt it too. That spark. The static.

She should’ve looked away. Should’ve smiled politely. Should’ve gone back to nursing her tequila soda and pretending she gave a damn what the girl next to her was saying.

But Paige wasn’t in the mood to be polite.

She was tired.

Tired of tiptoeing. Tired of pretending. Tired of watching Azzi look at her like that and pretending it didn’t mean anything.

So she didn’t look away.

She leaned into it.

Let the girl at her elbow trail a hand up her arm. Tilted her head when she laughed at something dumb. Let her fingers linger on Paige’s bicep like it was natural.

It wasn’t. But Azzi didn’t know that.

And when Paige risked another glance—yep.

Still watching.

Azzi’s gaze hadn’t budged.

And maybe it was petty. Maybe it was reckless.

But Paige had never been good at leaving things alone.

So she downed the rest of her drink, slid off the barstool, and made her way over like she hadn’t planned it—like her feet just wandered there all on their own.

She stopped right beside her. Let the beat of the music fill the space between them.

Azzi didn’t say anything. Didn’t move.

But Paige could feel it. The heat. The hum.

So she leaned in—slow, steady, obnoxiously close—and let her lips brush the shell of Azzi’s ear.

“Careful,” she murmured, low and smug. “Keep staring like that, and I’m gonna start thinking you miss me or something.”

She let it hang there, just long enough.

“And we both know how dangerous that would be.”

Because for the first time in weeks, it felt like the power had shifted. And she wasn’t the only one still feeling it.

And just like that, she turned.

Walked back into the crowd, heart pounding, smugness barely covering the way her hands were actually shaking.

But one thing was certain.

She wasn’t imagining it.

Not this time.

Azzi had been watching.

And Paige? She was officially done pretending she didn’t want her to.

[roonotrue]

Twisted Wonderland - He Hears You Singing (About Him)

General Masterpost

Heartslabyul Edition, Savanaclaw Edition, Octavinelle Edition, Scarabia Edition, Pomefiore Edition, Ignihyde Edition

Prompt: While relaxing, and doing chores around the Ramshackle dorm for your weekend restoration of the barely standing building, your thoughts drift to love songs from your old world. You think of songs that remind you of your closest fellow NRC student and crush, and end up singing one while you work.

Reader: GN reader - They/Them pronouns and they are referred to as 'MC/Prefect' in this one. And let's all just agree that MC is a great singer- cuz some of these songs have mad vocals that I would never dream of trying to sing myself with my incredibly average voice, and I imagine a lot of you are the same.

Included Characters: Diasomnia Edition!

Warnings: None.

Request Rules & Information Here

~~~

Malleus Draconia - "Enchanted" by Taylor Swift (Taylor's Version)

- You were cleaning up the outside of Ramshackle- picking up trash, cleaning windows, etc. You were tempted to try and find a way to clean up the yard, trim the weeds and vines and such- but you know Malleus's favorite thing about Ramshackle was it's... Charming decrepit-ness.

- So, with your thoughts wandering to your very 'jumped right out of a fae fairytale' crush, you start singing to yourself as you clean.

- And surprise surprise, Malleus just so happens to decide to visit. To see Ramshackle. That's all. Just... Admiring the architecture. Totally not hoping you're home and will come talk to him and maybe invite him to 'hangout' like you do with your other friends-

- Anyway- 

- He sees you outside Ramshackle and is instantly smiling to himself, ready to approach you as you clean the windows along the side of the building but then- you start to sing.

- My brothers, sisters, and nonbinary's in Christ, when I tell you, brother was ✨Enchanted✨ Pupils? Heart shaped. Jaw? Dropped. Heart? Racing. Hotel? Trivago.

- Okay, so maybe he handles himself with a little more elegance than that, but trust, it's all happening in his head. On the outside though, he's watching you stunned- so, so very tempted to come sweep you into a dance befitting such an elegant, beautiful song.

- Matching your equally elegant and beautiful voice.

- Child of man, you never fail to surprise him, though this is the first time you've truly taken his breath away.

- He does not wish to interrupt the song, wanting to hear every lyric as it falls from your lips and engrave it into his mind- and yet he knows that this is without question a private moment not meant for his ears.

- ... But perhaps he can listen for a few moments more...

- As he does he can't help but wonder what has inspired you to sing such a song. A fondness for someone here at Night Raven perhaps? If so, who? Now that question- that question sends a jolt of scalding envy searing through his chest so strongly that a green lightning strike goes off in the distance, startling you out of your singing.

- How unfortunate.

- But at least it drew your attention in his direction, and the excited smile that bursts out across your face when you see him is enough to clear up any dark clouds that might have started to form above you both.

- He will easily admit to overhearing your singing, and apologize for not announcing himself if you're embarrassed about it. He will also overflow with praise for your singing and the song choice.

- He'll ask about the song, and if you'd be willing to sing it for him again, now or perhaps some other time. He will also shamelessly and directly ask if you were singing it about someone you might be fond of- and when he does you do note that the sky darkens a bit- so you should maybe answer honestly or find a way to not answer at all.

"Child of man, rest assured you have no need to be shy. I found your voice to be truly entrancing- might I inquire about what inspired you to sing it? Or perhaps who, is more accurate?"

~~~

Lilia Vanrouge - "Cruel Summer" by Taylor Swift

- Oh, this mischievous little shit- Lilia absolutely was paying a visit to Ramshackle to scare the hell out of you and cause some mischief.

- But then- as he was walking along the rafters above you- ready to jump down like a bat out of hell (ha), you did the most fascinating thing and stopped him in his tracks.

- You started singing.

- And oh, how very interesting. You sound absolutely wonderful beastie! You would make an amazing addition to the pop music club!

- He gladly listens as you sing, with a wide smile on his face as he cherishes the sound and the lyrics of the song- quite an interesting one by the way. Upbeat, fun, romantic.

- Now who could have inspired you to sing such a cute song? Oh and the bridge! He has to fight off the chuckle that wants to fall from his lips as his eyes widen at the spontaneously shouted lyrics.

- You two simply have to sing together sometime after this- he wonders how you would sound if he taught you how to sing some heavy metal?

- Mercy on your vocal cords in the near future when he does manage to drag you into this.

- When you finish the song he doesn't hesitate to drop down from the rafters now- promptly scaring the shit out of you- wearing his own devilish grin.

- He's soooo gonna tease you for this, but in that playful way of his that's mixed with complements in order to fluster you as much as possible.

- Truly though, he loved your singing, and will absolutely encourage you to sing the song again- and will teasingly ask if you where encouraged to sing it because of some romantic fondness for someone perhaps?

- Oh don't be embarrassed, he won't tell anyone! Unless it's him of course- oh, calm down, he's just kidding!

- Or is he?

"Khee hee~ look how red you are! There's no need to be so shy beastie, that song was so much fun to hear! And you sounded amazing- care to sing for me again? We could make it a duet if you'd like, Khee hee~"

~~~

Silver Vanrouge - "Hot Tea" by ​​half•alive

- Silver was coming over to Ramshackle to help you clean, and because you offered to help him with the notes he missed in class because he fell asleep- which he brought you and Grim snacks as a thank you for.

- When he gets there, of course he knocks, but you had said he could just come in when you spoke earlier- so when he didn't get an answer he did just that.

- He didn't even fully register that you were singing until he turned into the living room and saw you swaying as you swept around the space, singing softly.

- For a second he was fully convinced that he must have fallen asleep again and was dreaming this, hence why he didn't bother announcing himself- he wanted to hear the rest of the song. Your singing was really pretty and he can't help but smile softly as he watches you happily singing while you work...

- But then you turned around and noticed him and your startled yelp yanked him from his thoughts- and woke him up from starting to nod off leaning against the doorway.

- He then very quickly realizes that you singing was not a dream- and that he had just been very rude and improper in not informing you that he was standing there listening to you- he'll apologize sincerely for his actions explaining that he thought he was dreaming.

- To which he'll pivot into complementing your singing and asking about the song.

- Silver's not an expert on music or anything- just really knowing the lullabies his father would sing to him growing up. That song did sound a bit like a lullaby... It's very calming and pretty like one.

- He won't pry about who or if you're singing about someone, and honestly the thought doesn't even cross his mind that you might be singing about someone until way later that night and it may lead him to texting you while half asleep to ask.

- He hadn't fully been paying attention to the lyrics though, so he'll very politely ask that if you were comfortable with it, would you maybe sing that song again? Please?

"Your singing really was pretty, I thought it just had to be a dream. I'm sorry for intruding on such a private moment... But, if you're okay with it, I would like to hear that song again. I wasn't very focused on the lyrics before..."

~~~

Sebek Zigvolt - "Electric Love" by BORNS

- Let's be honest, if you didn't hear this man banging on the door and shouting to see if you were home- this is kinda on you.

- Sebek wouldn't normally just barge in anywhere- he too was raised to respect the simple fae etiquette of being invited before entering someone else's living space, but this was a matter of utmost importance! He was looking for Lord Malleus!

- And not only were you not answering, but the door to your dorm was unlocked! Do you know how absolutely reckless and unsafe that is human!?

- Stormed in, fully intent on looking for Malleus, and then scolding you for your terrible safety practices!

- But the loud shout died on his lips, his mouth going dry as he turned the corner to the kitchen to see you singing and swaying as you cook.

- Before he knows it his fists are clenched at his sides and his face is turning a pale pink as he processes your singing and the song itself- some kind of upbeat romantic serenade.

- Sebek is the last person at Night Raven college to ever be left speechless at literally anything- and yet every time he opens his mouth to try and announce his presence and his reason for being there, you sing another flawless run in the song and he just- can't.

- He's left gapping awkwardly like a fish as he can't find the right time to interrupt you and at one point it crosses his mind to just leave and pretend he was never there.

- But he's no coward! ... So he just waits for you to finish the song before clearing his throat very loudly- making you jump and turn an equally bright shade of pink seeing him standing int he doorway.

- He quickly (and loudly) explains himself and scolds you for leaving the door unlocked and then dismisses himself.

- And then stands in the doorway still frozen in place for several awkward silent moments.

- And then very quietly- quieter than you've ever heard Sebek- compliments you on your singing before clearing his throat and quickly marching away.

- He totally doesn't spend a full ten minutes outside of Ramshackle trying to compose himself before continuing to look for his Lord.

"H-HUMAN! I APOLOGIZE FOR INTRUDING BUT I AM LOOKING FOR LORD MALLEUS AND HE'S CLEARLY NOT HERE SO I'LL BE GOING NOW!... ... ... A-and your singing was very nice- f-for a human! OKAY GOODBYE!"

~~~

Whoo! Last one for this series y'all! I love the Diasomnia squad, they're my favorites- I'm gonna start another little reaction series and I've a bunch of prompt idea's that I will do all of eventually, but which do you guys wanna see next? Vote below and I'll see ya next post! ~ Roo

[frostedfragments]

could you do prompt 19 with caleb? :D

caleb x reader

19. getting turned on by their partner's new uniform for work and then roleplaying a bit

cw: inappropriate use of evol, handcuffs note: first time writing for caleb !! i'll admit i've been putting off writing for him bc aahh he's such a hard character for me to figure out for some reason, i cant seem to get into his head as well as i can with others! but i hope i've done him justice for the caleb enjoyers!

When you walk into your apartment after work one night, you expect to find Caleb draped across some piece of furniture, watching tv maybe. It's pretty common for him to come over, especially when he's home for the short time he has from the Farspace Fleet.

What you don't expect, however, is to walk in to find the room bathed in the warm glow of candle light. The flickering light illuminating a single, dark figure standing beside a chair in the centre of your apartment. For a few brief moments, you're almost tempted to call the police - because, what the fuck - but soon you recognise the broad cut of figure's shoulders, the outline of the peaked cap he wears with his uniform.

Instantly you relax, and then your gut pulls tight with anticipation, curiosity lacing your words as you step further into the apartment, closing the door behind you.

"Caleb?"

"You'll address me as Colonel, and nothing else," He steps forward, voice hard and authoritative, brandishing something silver that gleams even in the low light, "hold out your hands. I need to ask you some questions, and it will be better for you if you are restrained,"

Oh, you think, so this is what we're doing. "Yes, Colonel," is your reply, excitement bubbling deep in your gut, warmth dusting your cheeks. You should have known Caleb would do something like this as soon as you told him how sexy you found him in his new uniform.

Holding out your hands as told, Caleb clips one of the cuffs onto your wrist, leaving the other free before dragging you over to the waiting chair behind him. He tugs you, roughly, into the chair before moving around to your back and cuffing your hands. You're mostly immobile, except for your legs of course, and you're attached to the chair thanks to the cuffs. It's a concept that would probably frighten some people - being restricted in such a way - but for you, it only manages to fan the flames flickering to life in your stomach, the warmth travelling between your legs and through your thighs.

When Caleb steps back to the spot in front of you, he kicks your feet so your knees part for him. He gazes down at you, though thanks to the low lighting in the room, you can't see much of his face under his cap. Just the slight tilt of his lips, a smirk that seems to mock you in your submissive state.

You're sweating.

Bending at the waist, he lifts a hand to cup your face, squeezing your cheeks in the leather claps of his gloves. His eyes are dark, heated as he trails a look over your face before moving lower, lingering on the way your thighs are draped either side of him. You can already feel how wet you are, underwear clinging uncomfortably to the skin between your legs, but you play along.

"Colonel, I don't understand -"

Caleb's hand shifts slightly, his thumb pressing against your lips to keep them closed, "I don't remember saying you could talk," his eyes drift from yours to land on your parted lips beneath his thumb. He watches closely as he slowly parts your lips further, forcing his thumb into your mouth. You gasp, the taste of the leather hitting your tongue as Caleb caresses it, pushing further, just enough to have you on the edge of gagging.

"Are you going to be obedient?" He asks, his fingers digging into your face just a little more as he removes his thumb from your mouth, smearing your lipstick with your own saliva. You nod, eyes bleary as your thighs shift around Caleb's legs, itching to press together and soothe the ache between them. He watches the whole thing, scoffing quietly before moving away and waving his hand. Instantly, his evol parts your thighs again, holding them open, almost uncomfortably so. Your skirt rides up, and you know by now your underwear is probably exposed to his wandering eyes.

Caleb moves away for a moment, his evol still gripping you tight, keeping your legs parted despite your attempts to shift. Sweat begins to mist your skin as your gut squeezes like a fist, pulling down and down. Your clit throbs, begging for mercy, a touch to sooth the persistent ache.

When Caleb turns back to face you again, he's holding his baton. The long, thin weapon is usually closed up, hanging from his belt, but he has opened it to its full span, holding the object out and pressing under your chin. He lifts your face to greet his own, his body bending so he can kiss you sloppily, his tongue licking heat into your mouth. You gasp into the kiss, already eager for this torture to end and for Caleb to fuck you already.

He shows no signs of giving into such demands yet, however, as he pulls away, leaving your lips wet and shiny in the low light of the room. His violet eyes appear almost black as he watches you beneath heavy lids. Instead, he steps forward, hand dropping to your shirt as he begins to undo each button deftly with nimble fingers, even in the thick leather gloves. Soon, your bra is bared to him, breasts heaving to escape the confines of the black lace.

"You think I haven't noticed how you act when I am wearing this?" He murmurs, bringing the baton up until its resting on your lower lip, "Suck. Get it wet,"

You oblige only too eagerly, wishing it was him instead, allowing your eyes to meet so Caleb can imagine you suckling just as greedily and messily on his cock. His jaw clenches, eyes hazy for a second as if the idea might be enough to tempt him into giving up this whole charade, but the expression fades just as quick as it appeared. He drags the baton from your lips, the wet tip of it tracing a path down between your breasts, over your stomach. It stops briefly at your skirt, and Caleb's lips twitch at the way your hips shift slightly.

"Cale- Colonel, please," You whine, and Caleb tilts his head, "please touch me. Please do something,"

"Watch your mouth," He replies, voice lethally soft, "I never said you could speak," he tuts gently, lifting the baton and bringing it down quickly against your thigh. Pain flashes hot against your skin, melting into something liquid, something addictive. You moan softly.

"So disobedient," Caleb murmurs. He drops the baton, kneeling at your feet, quite unlike the cold colonel. His leather-clad hands find your thighs in a rough grip, hard enough to leave marks, and you hope they do. Caleb lifts your skirt, giving him a clear view of your black underwear, the lace so damp now that he can see the wet spot on the seat below, "Messy too,"

You try not to beg him, trying to keep silent and stay obedient so that he might touch you. His lips grow wet as he drags his tongue over them, staring intently at your parted thighs like he might wish to lick you clean himself, though he doesn't move. His hand makes its way up your thigh, over the reddened mark where he'd smacked you with the baton. The skin, sensitive now, hums under his tough as he runs a thumb over it, a soothing gesture cutting through his act.

"You've thought about this a lot," He says, voice softer now, "I have noticed every time your eyes watch me when I leave. Whenever I wear this uniform your eyes seem to glaze over like you're in the middle of a daydream," his hand moves further towards your clothed pussy, the leather soft and cool on your heated skin, "Is this what you were thinking about?"

You nod eagerly, unsure if he will stop if you were to speak. He smiles, almost looking like the Caleb you know again, though the grin soon sharpens with an edge as his fingers meet their mark. He presses hard against your clit, rubbing the wet lace against your skin in a slow, taunting circle. He does this twice, taking his touch away and observing the shiny wetness on his gloves. He pauses, like he might bring the fingers to his own lips for a taste, but instead he lifts them to your own mouth, pushing them past the seam of your lips.

"Taste it," He speaks, gruffer than a moment ago, "Taste the mess you've made,"

You moan around his gloved fingers, the familiar bitter taste of the leather soothed slightly by the salty tang of your own arousal. You lick every drop, sucking hard until your cheeks hollow, and Caleb's lips part to accommodate a low, quiet moan. When he pulls his fingers out, he returns them in a swift movement, rubbing your clit again and again.

"Come," He grits out, watching your face hungrily, the cool, calm pretence from earlier vanishing with each second, "Fuck, come nice and quick for me and I'll reward you with my cock,"

Your thighs tremble against the hold his evol still has on you, hips barely managing to chase his fingers, though you seem to crash into your climax unexpectedly. The force of it takes the air from your lungs leaving your lips parted on a silent moan before you drag in a broken gasp, "Oh- oh god, fuck, Caleb -"

"Good," He says, dazed, "So good, you did so good for me,"

His evol vanishes, your thighs clamping around his hand as he continues to rub and rub and rub until you're leaning forward, biting into the material of his jacket to quell the scream building in your throat. When you come a second time, Caleb seems to moan with you, so attuned to your body that he can feel your pleasure for himself.

He stands as you begin to gather yourself, panting in the chair and watching his movements with teary eyes. He doesn't bother removing his uniform, pulling out his cock through the slit in his trousers. It's hard, almost angrily red and shiny - your mouth waters with the need to taste, and thankfully, Caleb doesn't keep you waiting. He parts your lips with the head, gripping your hair in one hand while the other braces on the back of the chair you're sitting on.

"Oh fuck, oh god -" He's throbbing in your mouth already, hips stuttering as he shallowly fucks into your mouth, "Gonna come, oh fuck, gonna come. Yeah, yeah -" you suck hard, hollowing out your cheeks in order to bring about his release quicker. He comes with a broken groan of your name, chair creaking in his vice-like grip, and he uses the hold on your hair to pull you up and down his cock slowly, dragging out every thick rope of come he has to give.

When you're both panting, Caleb braces himself on the kitchen counter, dragging in deep lungfuls of air before he walks over on shaky legs to uncuff you. When you're both feeling human again, he brushes your hair from your face and looks down at you with wide, glassy eyes.

"Did I do good?" He says, "Did you like it?"

You shake your head, laughing, "You did really good, believe me,"

Caleb nods, satisfied, his playful demeanour so at odds with his uniform that it makes you laugh. The two of you shower and spend the rest of the night watching movies, though you make it known that should he want to welcome you home like that in the future, you are more than willing to play along again.

[kimberly-spirits13]

Batboys Dating Cat-like Reader HC (Request)

Warnings: mild language

Note: not really sticking to a request list or anything but I thought this would be a good one- Still on the Damian and Jason trains so expect some more of stuff for them in the future I think. Also, y'all the recent tumblr drama kept me up so late last night, I was fully enthralled by the circus that was last night 💀

Dick Grayson:

He definitely isn't the chill laid back type- Dick is the bubbliest person you could know and it translates onto the field

The two of you have known each other since he was Robin so he's familar with all of your facets

He jokes that you're two different people when it comes to personal life and fighting

You're total opposites in the regards that he likes to go full throttle, brights colors kind of personality, and you're fine laying back and reading a good book for the entire day

Dick appreciates that you teach him to settle for a moment before jumping around to something new

When the two of you first fought together, he was shocked to see you be almost as serious as Bruce

Had to do a double take

You were swift and calculated, not taking a moment to relax and stay in place

You scolded him for paying attention to you rather than the fight at hand and he snapped out of it but couldn't stop thinking about it

When he found out about your ability to transform into a cat, he was thrownnnn

he thought he was confused seeing you fight? now he's just bamboozled

It isn't often that you use these abilities, but it comes in handy for collecting information on people

There's nothing inherently suspicious about a stray cat roaming around shady allywaya or docks in Gotham City so no one is suspicous towards the feline after Nightwing comes crashing in unexpectedly

He's a total tease about it too- has probably pointed a lazer at you to see if you'd react before having his dreams smashed by your intense eye roll and the book that smacked across his forehead

Jason Todd:

Probably the type to seek out a laid back person as a partner

He wants someone to sit around with so that he can read Jane Austen in comfortable silence

Favorite spot is infront of the fireplace in the library of Wayne Manor

always joked that you were drawn to the heat like a cat in the sun

He thought he was kidding until the first time during patrol that you shrank down into a little grey and white cat before jumping off the ledge of whatever you were on to get a better idea of what two goons were talking about

When you came back up and reverted to regular form and told him that Penguin was planning a jewelry heist, was dead still trying to process

"what the fuck Y/N?" his brain is going at 100mph going "huh, how what, why, when, HUH?"

"I was just kidding about you being like a cat..."

You grin at him and he accepts that he's seen weirder and moves on

When it comes to fighting, he likes that you're not playing around about anything

There are times where he's worried that you could hurt yourself in the intensity of the entire affair, but you sooth his worries by promising that you wouldn't do anything stupid if there wasn't a good reason for it

If he's feeling funny one day, he will totally wave a string of yarn in front of you with the most devious look plastered on his face

"Really, Jason?"

"What?? I'm just checking!"

he likes that he often finds you curled up on the couch doing something engulfed in his clothes

like, they're comfortable, what are you gonna do?

Jason loves that you're able to get him to sit back and take a breath when he's worked up instead of letting him think that the world is going to come down on him

Sometimes he just needs a bit of a reality check

Tim Drake:

Loves, LOVES that you're fine just sitting with him while he works on cases

You don't nag him about things and are content keeping him company without pushing him to do things that he either doesn't want to do or can't do

You're often metaphorically talking him off the ledge and making him see things through a more realistic perspective instead of the end all be all that he can wrap his mind into sometimes

Thought that this would all translate into sparring until he's pinned on the mat with no way to escape

Not only is he sore and tired after the first sparring match that he has with you, he's confused

like- what?

consider him more confused when you offer to stalk out a few goons he was tailing by shifting into an inconspicuous cat

"you can do that?"

"yea Tim. This isn't new love"

well then..

He often asks that you do this for the sake of gathering information, but he secretly feels guilty because he's worried that you could get hurt somehow

He'd definitely notice if a cat was stalking around and then all of his plans were foiled everytime

You assure him that it's not hard to mimic an actual cat and that the goons are often too stupid to notice anything

Besides, it's not like you don't blend in with the rest of Gotham's stray cat population

Tim finds peace in the fact that he doesn't have to worry about you getting hurt in the field due to inexperience or lack of effort

He's more worried for the run of the mill underpaid goons who just got swept up in the whirlstorm of your patrol

Damian Wayne:

I feel like it would take him a second to get used to the cat thing

sure he knows Beast Boy, and that's not weird to him anymore, but at first it was a bit torturous considering that he wasn't a massive fan of his demeanor but still really likes animals

the difference here is that Damian vibes super well with your demeanor

He doesn't worry about you running around and acting a fool

Loves that you're basically always in his company, even if it's in silence

He likes to sit and either read or draw/paint while you're doing your own thing

it's a peaceful presense that he knows won't get ripped away by some instability or shift in the world

He didn't realize that this calmness didn't translate into fighting until you're sparring for the first time

he offers to teach you and improve your skill so you play along

"Try to attack me." He said with a tone of confidence

There's not a moment for him to think before you've laid him out of the mat and knocked the air out of his lungs

"How was that?" You asked with a smirk in your voice

"that was... unexpected."

That moment ends the era of him worrying so much about you on the field

He doesn't tense up as much when you suggest that you could collect information by stalking the suspects as a cat

He knows that you can certainly handle yourself without his assistance

Wouldn't mind if you curled up in his lap as a cat, but he would never voice that outloud

at least not for a LONGGG time

you have caught him intensely observing your interactions with Alfred the cat

He wants to know if Alfred will have either some sort of reaction to you, or like you more than the average person

Don't tell him that you know about these "little observations" or he'll sink into himself and die out of embarrassment

[sweetlikelace]

MY HANDS ARE TIED, MY SLEEVES ARE TORN

PART FOUR | wandanat x reader

[part three]

paring(s): wandanat x reader, wanda maximoff x reader, natasha romanoff x reader

content warning: smut, exhibitionism, voyeurism, cunnilingus, mommy kink, daddy kink, breath play, praise, teasing,

word count: 2.3k

A/N: this was a little rushed toward the end, but i’ve been having such a hard time writing so hopefully it’s good enough for you

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

the soft morning light filtered through the curtains, spilling gently over the bed. the world outside was quiet, the birds chirping faintly in the distance. the air felt warm, cozy, like the kind of morning where you could sleep in just a little longer, bury yourself deeper into the covers, and forget about the world outside.

you were tangled in the sheets, nestled between natasha and wanda. the three of you had fallen asleep the night before in a mess of limbs. wanda's arm draped across your waist, natasha's chest pressed against your back. you were warm, comfortable, and, for once, everything felt peaceful.

when you woke up you were reluctant to open your eyes. wanda and natasha's duvet was the comfiest you had ever slept in, and the longer you spent with the couple the more often you found yourself waking up in their bed. wanda liked her space, usually facing outward when the three of your slept, while natasha ran perpetually hot. you, on the other hand, were a full-time snuggle bug according to natasha. always wanting to be near her, or on her. she loved it of course, except for when she was sleeping. but today was the exception. usually after a more spicy night, they'd give in to your extra clingy behaviour.

you stretch your arms out before nuzzling back into natasha's side, moving around a bit trying to find a comfortable position. as you stirred, your leg shifted, and before you knew it, your foot had made contact with wanda's side with a gentle thud.

"ow," wanda muttered groggily, squirming away from the unexpected hit. her voice was thick with sleep, and her hand instinctively reached for the spot where your foot had nudged her.

you froze for a moment, eyes still closed. "sorry," you mumbled, your voice muffled in the pillow. "didn't mean to—"

wanda nestles back into her pillow, closing her eyes when it happens again. another kick into her thigh. "what the-"

natasha lifts her head sluggishly. "what's going on?"

"tasha, control your woman." wanda mumbled with her eyes closed. you could feel natasha's arm sling across your waist. she whispered in your ear, her voice husky. "relax malyshka."

"I am relaxed." you mutter back, face still buried in the pillow. natasha hushes you and pats your hip. out of the two older women, natasha took every opportunity to sleep in if she didn't have to wake up early for work.

"don't 'shush' me." you protest causing wanda to release an exaggerated sigh. "you two are ridiculous." she climbs out of bed, wrapping her robe around herself and slipping on a pair of natasha's slippers.

you reach your arms out and let out a dramatic whine. "nooo stay!" you pout. wanda just stands with her arms crossed.

"it's already 9, detka, time to get up."

you let out a dramatic groan and fling your arm over your eyes. "fine. but I'm staying in my pyjamas." 

"you mean my pyjamas." wanda raises an eyebrow. for some reason it had always slipped your mind to bring extra clothes when you stayed over. the evenings always resulted in you drowning in one of their oversized t-shirts or crewnecks. you didn't mind it one bit, and neither did they. natasha found it to be extremely attractive, seeing you in her wife's clothes. “why are you even getting up this early? it’s not like you have work.” you roll over in the bed. natasha, who was trying to go back to sleep, reluctantly sat up too.

wanda opened the curtains, the sun reflecting through the vanity mirror. “oh it’s a hot one today,” she flicks her wrist, the windowsill hot from the sun. your eyes light up and you sit up. “can we go to the beach?!” you ask with a hint of excitement in your voice. wanda hated the beach, she didn’t love the idea of open bodies of water, and the sand, relentlessly finding itself in places sand shouldn’t be. you knew this of course, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.

natasha watched her wife’s reaction. the way she sighed, almost anticipating the question. “a beach day could be nice.” she says, her gaze flicking between you and wanda.

once natasha was on board you thought you might actually have a chance, your eyes snapped back to wanda’s. “pleeaaseee.” you push out your bottom lip.

wanda grabs clothes from the hamper and sighs. “a beach day could be nice…” she repeats. your face lit up as you push the floral duvet cover off your legs and jump out of bed. natasha’s lips twitched into a grin, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ to her wife.

wanda had a way of making even the simplest of things feel planned. every detail, no matter how small, had to be perfect or it would throw off her whole vibe. it wasn’t that she was a control freak, but she could be meticulous at times. natasha was a lot more spontaneous. she often tried to push her out of her comfort zone, testing her limits without making her totally uncomfortable.

but when you came into the picture, natasha was no longer the one testing wanda, you did it perfectly. a natural type b personality, and how easily it could clash with the older woman’s.

wanda and natasha had a pool, so there was already a drawer filled with swimsuits in your size. you pick out a perfect baby blue bikini and slip on a crocheted dress over top.

natasha always wore the same black one piece with slits at the side, and wanda packed a yellow floral two piece.

it was hottest day this summer. the sand burnt your toes as you struggles to stay upright in your flip flops. you wait for natasha to walk ahead before jumping onto her back, causing her to tumble a bit. "a heads up would be nice." she chuckled, wanda shaking her head playfully.

"don't like the sand." you mutter into her shoulder. natasha always wore uggs on the beach for that very reason.

wanda finds an empty space and lays out a green gingham sheet she had found packed away in her closet. she takes out the sunscreen, tanning oil, and bottled water.

natasha drops you onto the sheet and you hurry toward the water.

"detka! come back you need sunscreen." wanda calls out after you, the warmth of the sun already making your skin tingle. Wanda's fingers brush against your back as she squeezes some sunscreen into her hands. You feel a little shiver run down your spine, her touch light but deliberate as she smooths the lotion over your skin.

her hands move expertly, spreading the sunscreen evenly across your back, working from your shoulders down to your lower back. the feeling of her fingers massaging the lotion in makes your muscles relax, and for a moment, you forget you're on a beach with the others. wanda is always so gentle, yet there's something reassuring in the way she takes care of you, like she's the one keeping the sun's harsh rays at bay.

natasha skipped the sunscreen and went straight for the tanning oil, wanda gave her a glare. once she finished up lathering the lotion onto your body, she moves beside natasha who was already laying on her stomach.

wanda pours a line of oil down natasha's back and gently massages it into her skin. your eyes lock onto the blonde's body, losing sight in her curves.

wanda's fingers find each inch of her wife's skin, deliberately teasing with the oil. natasha lets out a soft moan and your eyes immediately widen.

the motion of wanda’s hands becomes hypnotic as she moves down natasha’s back, her fingers light but deliberate. she massages the oil into natasha's lower back, her touch growing softer near the waistline. wanda's presence is soothing, like a safe harbor, and natasha seems to melt further under her touch. her hands linger just for a moment longer on natasha's back, almost as if she's reluctant to stop, but she does.

you blink a bit and tilt your head. "you're not coming in the water with me?"

natasha murmurs something you can't quite hear. you look out into the shoreline and decide to go yourself. wanda keeps a watchful eye on you like a mother would a child, while natasha sunbathes.

despite how hot it was, the beach was almost deserted. there was a family a few years down but not close enough where you could hear any of the kids.

the moment your toes touch the water, a soft shiver runs up your spine, the coolness of the sea contrasting sharply with the warmth of the sun still lingering on your skin. the sensation is freeing, as if the world outside of this little bubble doesn't matter for a while.

you look back to your spot on the beach. squinting your eyes to see the married couple close, closer than they were a few moments ago. you watch as wanda’s fingers slip inside the other woman, drawing out soft sounds that were muffled from the waves. you head snaps around quickly to see if anyone is watching, but it’s only you.

you slip further into the water, your nose just above as you watch wanda climb on top, tugging at natasha’s bathing suit. you felt the familiar tingling sensation between your legs. you didn’t know whether to stay put and watch, or interrupt them.

you watched natasha squirm beneath her, your eyes just watched her finish, her skin radiating afterglow.

you swallow the lump in your throat before slowly stepping out of the water and making your way back. you felt a little embarrassed watching, maybe a little bit of shame too.

when you return natasha is back to tanning on her stomach, wanda reading her book. you look between the two of them.

“how’s the water, malyshka?” wanda asks, her eyes glued to the page.

“cold.” you speak in a corse whisper. was she not going to acknowledge what you saw? “were you…”

“what’s the matter, baby? you’re shivering.” wanda hands you a towel and pats the spot beside her. you didn’t even notice the goosebumps covering your arms.

you shift beside her and watch as she continues to read. natasha laying peacefully in the sun, like she hadn’t moved in hours. “i saw you guys…” you confess.

“saw us what, detka?” wanda tilts her head.

you didn’t want to say it. it made your cheeks burn. “i saw you guys, you know…” it felt childish the way you couldn’t say the words.

“you mean you were being nosy.” natasha corrects you, lifting her head up.

you freeze at her words and look to wanda. “no it’s not like that.. i just… there’s people over there.” you stutter, causing the two women to exchange glances.

“you mean all the way over there?” natasha looks, resting her sunglasses on her nose. “don’t tell me you’re that shy.”

you felt small under their eyes. “i’m not shy, i just never…”

wanda lets out a taunting gasp. “you never been fucked in public, detka?”

that was the last of your composure. you tense up, pressing your legs together at the thought. that was never something that had crossed your mind before today. it would be a lie to say you didn’t enjoy watching them from the water, but a part of you was shocked. you’d never expect either of them to be into exhibitionism. before you could blink again natasha’s oily hand found your thigh and gave it a squeeze, while wanda tied your hair up out of your face. she kisses your cheek, and then your lips and you find yourself laying down against the sheet.

the oil smelt like coconut and pineapple, natasha smelt like coconut and pineapple. it was intoxicating. “she smells good, doesn’t she, baby?” wanda murmurs in your ear. “go on, tell tasha she smells good.” she slips her hands underneath your bikini top, massaging your breasts gently.

“you smell good, tasha.” you repeat quietly and natasha smiles and pours some of the oil into her hand rubbing it into your legs. “you’re gonna smell so good after this too, sweet girl.”

wanda traces patterns up your chest as natasha works the oil into your legs. natasha pours some into wanda’s hands and places them on your collar bone. she unties the bikini knot behind your neck, pulling it down completely.

her thumb circles your erect nipple, pulling soft moans and whimpers from your lips. “shhhh, my love, you don’t want anyone to hear what a naughty girl you are, hmm?”

natasha smirks and runs her oily fingers to your hips, dipping them into the straps of your bathing suit. she doesn’t take them off, just tugs enough so there’s room for her hand to slip in.

you squeeze your eyes as natasha uses the coconut oil to fill you up. her fingers exploring every inch of you. you squirm against the warm sheet as wanda holds you in place. “you’re doing so good for mommy and daddy, detka. almost there.”

natasha continues to work her magic, bring in you closer and closer to the edge. wanda’s hands find your breasts again, squeezing them between her palms.

you take a deep breath and hold it as the wave washes over you, natasha’s thumb pressing down on your clit, helping you ride out your orgasm. “breathe, baby.” wanda whispers, a soft reminder in your ear to ground you. you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding and collapse onto the sheet.

wanda ties your bikini top back in place and pushes the damp hair away from your eyes, your skin still salty from the ocean.

“you know, i think i’m starting to like the beach.” wanda smiles.

tags: @ciaoooooo111 @htinha157 @milflovers4 @artemisarroxvolkov @ssasa-romanoff @angelicbrats @vyvvycg

[vicolette]

Not Needed !

– A/N : is the confetti bothering you king

– Warnings : English isn’t my first language, uses of y/n, mutism/muteness, uses of god, not proofread

"Hi. Sorry that I suddenly approached."

Hector really, really, didn't know why he was doing this. This seemed like some typical dare that his friends would tell him, or maybe he would get paid in order to prank you, but he was dead serious about this.

You stood right in front of him – the pretty girl that was in the same class as him, yet he never had the guts to approach you. Your little friend group also wasn't associated with him or his best buddies in any way, so he had to be bold.

Easier said than done.

Now, as he stood right in front of you in the middle of the hallway near the college's giant cafeteria, Hector found himself stuck in a situation of dilemma. Either he asks what the previous lesson was about, since he was busy with the recent football matches, or he just asks you out.

"Uhm… I wanted to ask, if you wanted to go on a date with me?" This was way too straightforward and he hated himself for it, but it wasn’t necessarily that which made him look stupid. No, it was the fact that he was asking you if you wanted to enjoy some time with.

Because why is it, that he could go into any club with his friends or teammates and flirt with every single girl there, without ever even stuttering once? But the very moment when he sees you, his mind goes blank?

After hours of relentless teasing from his friends, Lamine had suggested that he should just go for it. "The worst she can say is no."

Meanwhile, Pau was a tiny bit more helpful – saying that his older sister liked it when men were more honest and respectful than just flirting. The advice was needed, especially when Hector was still too embarrassed to do much about the situation.

However, as he saw how you were unable to respond, he got a bit worried.

Literally.

Your lips parted open and were then closed, again. For the fourth time now, and it hadn’t even been a minute. Even though Hector would respect your shyness, he was slowly starting to get frustrated.

"If you don’t wanna, just say so." He shrugged his shoulders and tried his absolute best not to turn around and vent to his friends, who were impatiently and noisily waiting in the cafeteria. Nonetheless, Hector could only watch as you moved your hands in a weird way.

"Wait, are you-"

All of a sudden, it clicked.

"- are you mute?"

A nod was all it took for him bury his face in his hands, muttering his repeated apology rapidly as he felt embarrassment wash over him. Hector couldn’t believe that he had just now discovered that you were incapable of speaking, when he had thought that you were just ignoring him on purpose.

However, as he saw you hesitantly approach him with a hand on his shoulder, showing him a thumbs up and an awkward smile on your face, he could only sigh.

"I'm so sorry, I should've known." Hector mumbled under his breath, yet the sight of seeing how apologetic he was over a common mistake made you grin, shaking your head while you silently comforted him, even though he should be comforting you, he thought. "I didn’t think- oh my god."

After a long silence, which mainly consisted of Hector speaking nonsense while you tried to get him to relax, he had finally calmed down and considered himself an idiot, before he saw how you took a step back showed him a thumbs up in agreement. He raised an eyebrow, then raised his voice instead.

"You wanna go on a date with me?" Your enthusiasm was strong, although you slightly hesitated after thinking for a while – now that he knew that you were unable to talk, would he still be interested in you?

The answer was not needed; he beamed with excitement, a huge smile on his face after he had let out a sigh of relief, with his hand dramatically raised and placed on his chest before he began to speak. "So, uh… are you free on Saturday?"

It was a mutual understanding between the two of you, with him suggesting some things and letting you type on your phone, while you mostly just either nodded your head or looked at him confused. Even though he was still unfamiliar with the situation of being mute, Hector found himself in peace with you.

Especially when you looked at him like he was a genius for requesting to go to an aquarium, or when you raised an eyebrow and shook your head when he had offered to pick you up, claiming on your phone that you could walk the way.

"So, five p.m.?" With yet another nod, Hector smiled at the vision and lightly chuckled, before he promoted the idea of walking you back to your friends. The walk to the cafeteria was quiet, yet occupied with shy smiles and a quiet goodbye from Hector's side.

Once he had arrived at the table, where he had previously been sitting with his friends, he slumped into your seat and ran a hand over his hair, glaring at Lamine, who was looking rather suspicious.

"She's mute." Somehow, somewhat, Pau only raised an eyebrow and Lamine shrugged his shoulders, making Hector look dumbfounded. Just then, Lamine had realized that he didn’t know, gasping as he had to stifle his laughter.

"You didn’t know?"

"You knew?!"

– A/N : my sister found out about my acc and is reading this🥀 also do you say pm or p.m.

[sweetdispatch]

hi v, can i get 6 pieces of cinnamon buns with pineapple and crushed nuts 💕

Perfect match, bad timing - J. Hughes

v' bakery pairing: Jack Hughes x fem!reader summary: You and Jack had been close with each other but the timing was against both of you until his birthday party had changed it warning: NSFW, graphic sex (+18), swear words

You always liked Jack. Since you were kids, he was always your favorite friend. When you were young, you were bullied that you’re glued to his side but he was always standing in your defence. This made you like him even more but with time, you grew apart. You found new friends but he always held a special place in your heart.

In high school, Jack saw you in a different light. You had a massive glow up and this was a perfect summary of your personality. He wanted to date you but you saw him only as a friend. You were seeing other guys but they always treated you like shit. He was always the one who stood by your side and helped after every break up. 

Things between you two were complicated. When you finally saw Jack as boyfriend material, he was dating someone. Instead of waiting, you found a boyfriend for yourself. It looked like there was no good timing for both of you to be together. That’s why you were only friends but everyone knew that you two are made for each other. 

But two of you were too blind to notice it. That’s why you preferred to jump into another relationship instead of waiting for each other. Things changed when it was Jack’ 21st birthday. You and he were single. You were sitting on the couch, sipping your drink when Jack sat next to you. 

“You are not on the dancefloor or swallowing another guy's tongue?” Jack joked and you laughed. 

“You’re so funny Hughes” You said and Jack threw his arm on your shoulder. 

“Always had been. What’s going on that you’re sitting here so lifeless?” Jack asked you. 

“I’m just thinking” You said casually. 

“About what? Spill it” Jack pushed you to talk. 

“And what if I say that I’m thinking about us?” You looked at him and noticed a smirk on his lips. 

“Then I’m listening” Jack sat more comfortably on the couch. The party was long forgotten.

“I was just wondering if there will ever be a chance for us. I like you, you like me but we’re always getting into pointless relationships instead of trying as a couple” You said and saw a spark in Jack’ eyes.

“You don’t know how long I waited to hear it from you” Jack told you and kissed you. “I want to ruin you, I want to make you mine” 

“Prove it Hughes” You whispered and kissed him. 

The kiss was intense. Jack pulled you on his lap and started roaming his big hands on your body. Your hands went through his hair. He started slowly pulling your shirt up when you two heard screams from the kitchen. This brought you back to reality that you’re sitting in the living room and everyone can see both of you. 

Without a word, you stood up and Jack grabbed your hand. He led you to his bedroom and locked the door. Quickly, he returned to what he was doing downstairs. He got rid of your shirt and skirt and you laid on the bed in your underwear. You were watching him when he was taking off his clothes. 

“You look fine” You said and bit your lip. 

“I’ll be looking even better on top of you” Jack said with a cocky smirk. 

You unzipped your bra and threw it on Jack. He laughed and topped you. He pulled you into another kiss and pushed his tongue into your mouth. This one was messy, full of saliva exchanged between you two. His hand went into your underwear and started touching your clit. He was doing circulated moves and you arched your back. 

“More Jack, please more” You begged him. 

Jack listened to you and took off your underwear. He licked his lips and positioned himself at your entry. In a smooth move, he pushed his whole length into your pussy and you moaned. He waited for you to give him a green light to start moving. When he saw your facial expression to relax, he started thrusting into you. 

At first, Jack was gentle with you but you told him to be faster. His moves became sloppy, he was pounding into you and you could swore that you’re seeing stars. You loved the feeling of having him inside of you. You placed your hands on his neck and pulled him into another kiss. 

This sex shared every unsaid feeling you two had towards each other. It was loving but at the same time dirty. You two never felt better than now. Your walls were clenching around his dick and in no time, Jack cum inside of you. He fell on top of you and you kissed him again. 

“That was something” You said trying to catch a breath. 

“It was incredible” Jack told you. “But we’re not done here” 

Before you could process his words, Jack started thrusting into you again. You were moaning underneath him and he was delighted to hear it. This sex changed your whole relationship and even if you knew that you needed to talk with him about the two of you, you were enjoying the moment. The closure between you two. For now, it was just you and Jack in his bed, fucking each other the whole night.

[abbysdollie]

The blackest day. Misogynistic Abby x fem reader.

Hi Angels !! Here’s the misogynistic Abby fic ! Writing this was definitely something, please mind the warnings because this one is pretty dark. There is no smut !! I love you guys and please take care of yourselves ! 𓆩♡𓆪

CW: misogynistic Abby duh. Slapping, punching, hair grabbing. Degrading names used. Abuse is the norm for people. Just lots of abuse. Abby is so mean. Huge warning for domestic violence !!

DARK CONTENT AHEAD YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !! MINORS AND MEN DNI !!

When you and Abby first got together, you thought you had found the love of your life, your soulmate, but as time went on, you started to realize maybe you were blinded. You ignored all the red flags in the beginning, and there were quite a few. You started noticing them towards that one-year anniversary mark with her, the videos she would send you on Instagram or TikTok. The photos she would like to send you.

They all had a common theme, it was all tradwife content where it was obvious that the woman was not happy with her 10 kids and her husband who looks abusive as fuck. Or those videos of women who would live as 1950s housewives—it was all odd, yet you never questioned it. After the wedding with Abby, you notice so many changes in her. She was always making super misogynistic comments. Things like

‘Women belong at home.’

‘Women obey their partners.’

Always something along those lines, the comments angered you to no end. Abby seemed to forget that those apply to her too. So you fought with her over them, telling her to watch it, but you soon would figure out that Abby’s plan was to break you.

Abby comes home from work, that day in particular you didn’t really do anything cause you didn’t have the energy. when she gets back her demeanor is different, the air feels thick, suffocating, it's not comfortable. Her footsteps echo loudly as she makes her way towards you. Abby had a mean look on her face, looking around she found nothing.

“What did you do all day?” Abby's voice is loud and it echoes around the room. Looking at her you look confused, what does she mean? You woke up, got ready, ate, cleaned a bit and then relaxed. What more did she want?

“What do you mean?” she didn't let you finish before her hand grips your forearm, yanking you up she drags you to the bedroom and opens the closet. Abby throws all your clothes on the bed except the ones she got for you—all your pants, leggings, tops, all of it gine. The dresses, skirts and shirts Abby got you are staying. “Abby what the fuck are you doing? Are you insane?” Ignoring you, she takes them all, throws them in a bag, and drags you and the bag out to the backyard, to the bonfire pit.

“Wait Abby, no—what are-” All of your clothes are dumped, and Abby throws a match in before you can stop it. You watch in shock and horror as your clothes are burning. You scream at her but she gets sick and backhands you hard. Yanking your arm she drags you back inside to the kitchen where she throws you against the counter. “Youre a married woman know your fucking place, from now on there are rules, rember them or face the consequences.” You're still shaking and crying from the clothes and slap. It takes you a little bit to recover from the events that played out but when you do it’s all hell from there.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you Abby?! What was that for?” Screaming at her pushing at her chest, Abby’s hand grabs your wrist squeezing tightly. Harshly she shoves you against the wall knocking the wind out of you. Gasping, you try to wiggle out but she’s way stronger than you.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that woman, you understand me? Come on answer” the way she said that added more fuel to the flame inside of you; what you do next catches Abby off guard. You spit in her face and push at her chest. Running to the living room you grab your keys and grab your keys, and Abby follows you out. As you got coser to your car you see all four of your fucking tires slashed, what the fuck?? You can't dwell on it for too long before Abby grabs you by the arm and tries to drag you back, seeing you are not letting her win easily, so you give her hell.

Screaming, kicking her leg, flailing your arms in all directions trying to hit her, unfortunately she overpowers you and gets you inside, where she throws you over her shoulder, making her way to the bedroom. Abby throws you on the bed, but you quickly get up.

“Abby what the fuck ! what the fuck is wrong with you ? I will not let myself be disrespected like this.” It's like talking to a brick wall. Abby's back is turned to you the whole time. After a while of hurling insults at her, she finally turns around, but you don't expect her to backhand you across the face, not giving you time to recover before landing another slap to your cheek. Her hands cradle your face, but not in a gentle, caring way, no. It's a harsh grip, one that hurts and will leave your jaw aching.

“Things are going to be run differently from now on, okay? I expect you to be up every morning at 6am sharp, help me get ready for work, get breakfast ready and my lunch should be ready too. I want you to dress in whatever I choose for you every day now, no more whorish clothes. I expect this house to be clean everyday and dinner on the table when I come home, you better start acting like a proper woman because we will be having dinner at my parents house in two weeks. understood ?”

You felt sick to your stomach. Was this really the woman you married? No, it couldn't be. No, no, you had to change her. I mean, could you? Would she give up these misogynist traditional ways? You don't know actually, and the chances of Abby agreeing to a divorce were so slim. Feeling tired and defeated you just agree.

“Yes abby” abby looks at you and releases your face, giving both of your cheeks kisses. The night goes by normally as if nothing happened but the sting on your cheeks were the reminder of what's to come.

A week goes by and you feel exhausted and completely hopeless. Abby is relentless in her ways not letting you have any breaks except for when you sleep, this is the definition of hell to you. Everything had to get through Abby first which made it so hard to do anything, you wanted that outfit, she had to approve first. You want to go out with them; Abby has to say yes and know your exact location. It was just Abby centered everything; you soon found that fighting against Abby was futile because she was not afraid to put you back into your place. The slaps, punches, kicks, punches, hair pulling, burns ,was all that she used. Your body was broken and beaten, bruises everywhere, cuts all over you, and it had only been a week. Abby was not the woman you once knew.

Talking to the other women in the neighborhood did you no good, because they were envious and jealous that you had gotten to marry Abby and be her wife. To them, the abuse and you begging them for help were dramatic, and every marriage has a bit of abuse in it. Quickly you put the pieces together and came to the conclusion that these women were equally as brainwashed as Abby.

You saw how they covered up the bruises, the eye bags from barely getting sleep. Discussing the best concealer and foundation out there for those bruises and eyebags and burn marks. This was the norm for them and it killed you. How do you get away from this? I mean could you?

The family dinner was a disaster. Abby gave you absolute hell that day; she came home from work earlier, and she was pissed to see that her suit wasn't ironed. You desperately tried to explain to her that you had ironed it but the hanger probably left a small crease, the answer pissed her off because next thing you know her fist comes swinging at you face full force. You get knocked back into your vanity, where your bottle of perfume falls over, landing right on you. Tears well up in your eyes as Abby crouches down in front of you, grabbing your jaw in her strong grip, forcing you to look at her even though your eye is in pain.

“Do not give me backtalk, ever. Now get up and make yourself look decent, dont fucking embarass me infront of my family, okay?” Abby lets you go and you just sit there reflecting and crying. What is this life? Quilt, you get up and see that there is a big black bruise on your eye now. Sighing heavily, you just get your dress on and do your makeup and hair. After an hour you go and meet Abby downstairs; she sees you and smiles, “My beautiful girl, let's go now.”

The drive is hell for you. Lets just say when you get there it's known that they hate you, the comments about your appearances, needing to lose weight, maybe investing in plastic surgery. Or how you're not a good housewife and that Abby needs to “keep you on a leash” or “train you better” as if you were a fucking dog. You kept your mouth shut because you were afraid of Abby, her icy cold glare daring you to say something. The night goes on and by the end when you and Abby finally leave its like a fresh breath of air on the drive abby is silent the whole way home which is kinda nice but the silence is super eerie. When she gets home she goes straight to the couch, her legs spread, she lets out a big sigh and loosens her tie. You plop down on the couch opposite to her and talk.

“Your family is kinda crazy, i mean wow your mother -” You didn't even see her get up before you felt a slap on your face. You hold your cheek and look at her, she was undoing her belt, rolling up her sleeves she brings the belt down onto your back. Getting up you try to run away but she grabs your hair and throws you on the ground, your legs start swinging trying to kick her legs. You scream and cry, but she doesn't let up.

“Who gave you the right to talk about my family that way, you whore? I own you okay, you're mine.” her belt swings down on your legs and back, your throat hurts everythings sore. At the end when she's down she tells you to clean yourself up and goes to bed, leaving you all alone sobbing on the cold floor.

Tags 𓆩♡𓆪 @bvtchbait @sleepinginherbed @sleeplessbunni @abbysluckycharm @meowiu @elsroseytoy @elswhore @tqlepatia @messybruises @graciedollie @h2pinky @tiffys-posts + let me know if I missed you or if you wanna be tagged !!

[hersuniverse]

DIET PEPSI - E.W.

Warnings; MDNI 18+, smut (durrr), pwp (maybe?), cunnilingus, fingering, scissoring, reader is a bit shorter than ellie, reader has a bookshelf and a cat named Pixel.

Author's Note; this took me longer than anticipated (months babe, months) but I had skewl and werk, so like spare me? I kinda friggin hate this but idk, i'll continue working pookie's, trusss i'll get better.

Word Count: 3.1K

Summer, probably the most eventful season of the year. People are outside, soaking up the sun by going to amusement parks, taking walks, having picnics and most importantly, going to the beach! You liked the sun, enjoyed a nice warm day sitting on your patio and flipping through pages of a good book. 

Not today though, today you were packed into a cramped hatchback and on your way to the beach after your friends coerced you into tagging along. You had no hate for the beach, just rather not have sand in every single one of your crevices. The drive was long, four dreadful hours of unnecessary banter and dumb dad jokes. 

The beach finally came into view and a wave of relief washed over you, the idea of stretching your legs excited you – more than it should’ve – and you couldn’t wait to check out the boardwalk. You happily hopped out the car, stretching your tensed muscles.

Setting up didn’t take long, there wasn’t much you had to do but put out a couple of chairs. Soon enough you’d stripped down into the pastel yellow two piece bathing suit, floating on the surface of the water you were starting to appreciate being dragged out the house. That was until- 

Splash. 

“Fuck you!” One of your friends giggled, they’d started a water fight ruining your moment of peace. “What the hell!” You yelled, they apologized – very insincerely – before returning to their intense water war. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” you whispered to yourself while walking back to the setup, your friend Cam stayed back, flipping a few burgers on the grill. “What’s wrong, not interested in water sports?” He asked.

Maybe not that kind.

“Not at the moment,” You collapsed in one of the beach chairs, thankfully you’d brought a book to entertain yourself in case something like this had happened. Digging through your beach bag, you retrieved your current read in hopes to finally relax for a bit. 

“Hey, Cam?”

“That’s me!” 

“Where’s the cooler?” Cam pointed you to the blue bin, you lifted the lid off being greeted with somewhat melted ice and multiple brands of beers and seltzers. “The fuck…?” You whispered to yourself trying to find a beverage that didn’t contain alcohol “Are there- no sodas?” You asked, holding up the beer can.

“Sorry sugar, Danny packed the cooler and it seems like he didn’t think things through.” You groaned, throwing your head back frustrated, though there was a simple solution to your despair. You reached over to your bag again, scrambling through the sunscreen, perfume and portable charger to grab your wallet and phone. 

You let Cam know you’d be taking a walk down to the boardwalk to grab a drink. “Hey, grab me one too!” You nodded, slipping on your denim shorts and flip flops you headed over to the lively boardwalk, before you could reach your destination you came across a couple of kittens. 

“Well hello.” You crouched down, greeting the array of kittens, calico’s, tuxedo’s and an orange kitten, the whole package dealing for chaos. “You guys look like you could use a snack too.” You smiled.

The boardwalk had an old 70’s vibe, bright colors and older building designs, a pleasing sight to see. You wandered around a bit in search of a corner store, which you found next to an ice cream parlour. Entering the store, the design was fitting to its exterior, short aisles you could see over, old model slushie machines and surprisingly empty refrigerators, damn.

You greeted the girl at the counter before picking up what you needed, some cat food, a couple of bottles of water and a pack of candy for the road. The doorbell rang again, indicating that someone else had walked in but you paid it no mind. 

“Is that everything?” The cashier asked as you placed your items onto the counter, you thought to yourself before realizing your initial reason for even making the trek down here. 

“One second!”

You quickly turned back into the store, searching the refrigerator for any signs of good beverages but unfortunately for you there were very limited options. You bit the inside of your lip, feeling slightly defeated that was until you came across a drink you knew. 

“Diet Pepsi?” You read, verbally disappointed. Not only was it one of your least favourite sodas, but a diet soda at that. You pondered, whether or not you should just grab it and force yourself to enjoy it or leave for some other dehydrated person to pick it up instead. 

“Fuck it.” You opened the fridge, bending down and reaching for the glass bottle you saw another hand in your peripheral. “Hey!” You straightened yourself out, the hand was seemingly attached to a rather attractive individual. She was around your height, maybe an inch or two taller, auburn hair and a tattoo that was freshly inked. Her skin was also a bit sunburned, her galaxy of freckles highlighted graciously from the burn. 

“Were you gonna grab that?” She pointed to the bottle, you nodded. “Awh, really!” She pouted, you furrowed your brows, trying to figure out why someone your age would-

“Well, ya’ snooze ya’ loose!” She quickly grabbed the Diet Pepsi out of the fridge and headed to the front counter. 

“Are you fucking joking?” You said to yourself as you watched her buy her stuff and leave. Once you’d stepped up to the counter, you had a slight pout of your own; sad to lose your sugary carbonated beverage. You sighed.

“What’s my damage?” You opened your wallet, searching for bills. “You’re actually good to go, that girl paid for your stuff.” You looked up to the cashier, shocked. 

“Yeah, she paid for everything. Said she was trying to apologize for grabbing the last diet pepsi.” Now you felt bad, in your head you’d been calling her all types of names – an auburn cunt for one – just for her to pull such a good deed out of her ass. 

Maybe she’d done it on purpose, knowing you’d be upset, she probably did it to make herself seem like the bigger person. You wouldn’t let her get the upper hand on you, hell no. You quickly gathered your things before rushing to the door “Thanks!” You yelled as you exited the store. 

Looking around, you thought you’d lost the girl. Luckily for you, she seemed to have stopped at another store, exiting the shop you pushed past people, muttering quick ‘excuses me’s’ and ‘sorry’s’ frequently as you caught up to her. 

“Hey!” You said, now standing in front of the auburn haired girl out of breath. “Did you follow me?” She chuckled, looking over her shoulder then back at you. “Why did you do that?” You furrowed your brows and tilted your head, the wind picked up blowing your hair into your face. 

“Do what, steal your Pepsi-”

“Pay for my shit.”

Neither of you spoke, she gave you a tight lipped smile before shrugging her shoulders. “I felt bad-” 

“Why, it had nothing to do with you?” 

“You’re never going to let me finish, are you?” She asked, you bit the inside of your lip, looking around before turning your focus back to her. She gave you a look to which you returned with an uncertain one, you couldn’t read her expression completely but  if there was one thing you could get from it was just how attractive she was. She explained her reason behind the ‘good deed’ but you  weren’t buying into it.

“You pay for every girl's groceries?” You joked, giving her a sly smile. She chuckled, scratching the back of her neck. 

“Only the pretty ones.” Slick. 

“Right, and how far has that gotten you?” You raised a brow, you couldn’t lie you were intrigued by her ‘player persona’ but the last thing you needed was a shitty fling to hold onto during the summer. 

“You wanna find out?” You rolled your eyes, pushing past her she turned, watching you walk away from her. “Is that a yes?” She yelled.

“I have to do something first!”

-

“Awe, they’re so cute!” She cooed, the two of you sat on the curb feeding the kitten you’d bumped into earlier. You fed them the cat food you bought, playing with them as they wandered around the containers of food.

It didn’t take a lot for her to convince you to split the Pepsi over a basket of fries, which you folded — under no pressure really — sitting outside the Mom N’ Pop Burger Shop she told you about herself. You told her about your cat ‘Pixel’ at home and your embarrassingly large bookshelf. You got to get a feel of her newly finished tat, which she’d said was the reason she was even at the boardwalk that day. 

You spent hours talking to her and walking around the beach — away from your friends of course, forgetting you’d even come to the beach with them — the sun had begun to reach the horizon, and you knew you’d have to depart from her soon. You walked with her to her car, it wasn’t brand new but it definitely fit her. She got into the driver's seat, leaving the door open as she situated herself. “You coming?” She asked.

“Coming where?” You folded your arms over your chest, biting inside of your cheek. You had a feeling of where this would be going, and it excited you a bit but you didn’t wanna seem all that easy — but god. “I have something to show you.” She smiled — that fucking smile.

-

She didn’t drive you out too far, just to a nearby cliff. You could see everything on the beach and with the sunset, it made everything all that much more beautiful. 

“Wow.” You scooted forward in the passenger seat, semi hypnotized by the merging colors and casts along the clouds. “I know, pretty sight, isn’t it?” She watched you take in the clouds, your shocked expression making her smile. 

“Pretty is an understatement.” You muttered, she chuckled. She continued to watch you, eyes lowering to your chest that was covered by the yellow bikini top you happily picked out this morning and your shorts, she wondered, did you always dress so sultry?

It was getting to her.

Gently, she placed a hand on your thigh, now staring out at the sunset trying to play off her move. “Seriously?” You giggled. “What?” She looked at you, trying to keep her cool but deep down she was hoping you weren’t catching onto her. “If you’re gonna make a move, make a fucking move.” You spoke slowly, leaning over to her. 

“Yeah?” She leaned into you, you both smiled before closing the gap between the two of you. Lips colliding like planets, the crash was heavenly, you held onto each other like you could slip away at any second. 

It didn’t take long for you both to hustle to the back seat, what was it you said about being easy earlier? Fuck it. 

Her lips tasted like salt and Pepsi from the meal you shared earlier, you smiled against her lips. She undid the small knots in your top and let the material fall. She removed her tank top, revealing her bare skin underneath. 

She pulled you back into another heated kiss, trailing a hand down to shorts, desperately unbuttoning and unzipping the denim. You placed your hands behind you, resting your weight on them as her hand snuck into your underwear, the feeling of her slender fingers against your cunt was to die for.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been properly fucked, you’d gotten so used to your own fingers that you almost came at the light gesture of her caressing your lips. 

She sunk a digit into you, giving you slow strokes before impulsively deciding to add another. Your brain felt like mush and you hadn’t even gotten to the good part. “Fuck.” You breathe, moving your hand to grab her hair, holding it a bit tight but she clearly didn’t care.

She quickened her pace, building the knot in your belly. You pulled her back into you, you whimpered against her lips and you could feel her breath become staggered. The windows had become foggy and you were pretty sure any passersby would be able to see a slight rock in the vehicle.

You could feel yourself coming closer to release, one you so desperately needed and she probably did too which is why she came to an abrupt halt. “What the fuck.” You whined, tears brimming your eyes. You didn’t mean to cry but you just really wanted that orgasm. 

“Shh, don’t worry. We’re not done just yet.” Smiling, she tugged your shorts and underwear off in one go, leaving you bare. She joined you in your nakedness, getting you onto your back she fixed herself between your thighs, aligning her cunt with yours. 

She held your legs open and went to town, she watched as her pussy slid against yours. The sound of the slick drenched skin filled the car along with the moans and occasional chants of “Yes, yes, yes!”

“Fuck your pussies- fucking amazing.” She mumbled, picking up the pace. You pathetically tried to match her speed, but you were too far gone, your only thoughts were of her; just how in the world was she so good at this? She clawed at one of your boobs, watching them slightly bounce with each grind against you. She only hoped to remember this moment forever, she’d definitely be getting off to the thought of this later. 

“Fuck! M’close!” You uttered, you held onto her hips, trying to study her movements in a way. “M’right there with you babe.” She groaned, leaning close to you. 

Your back slightly arched off the car seat, the tingling sensation took over your body and you saw stars. You both stilled, feeling her slightly twitch against you, her slick drenching your cunt and both your cum dirtying the backseat of her car.

“Holy fuck.” She smiled, trying to catch her breath. “That was-”

Your phone rang. “Shit!” You searched for it on the car floor, finding it buried in your shorts. You didn’t bother checking the called ID, knowing exactly who it was.

“Hello?”

“Babe, we’re are you? We’re ready to leave, we’re waiting on you.” Cam sounded a bit annoyed, hell you would be too if he promised you a drink on a hot day just to sneak off to get fucked; but he didn’t know that. 

“I’m uh- I got lost! I’m on my way, give me five. Ok? Love you!” You hung up, reaching for your clothes. “Babe?” She furrowed her brows at you as you continued to get dressed. 

“Cam, he’s a friend. Trust me.” Shitty reassurance, she tried to ignore it and grabbed her clothes as well. 

Once you were both dressed, she drove you both back to the beach. It was quiet as you were on the phone the whole time, checking the messages you’d missed from your friends from when you’d first left. 

“They’re gonna fucking kill me.” 

“I don’t blame ‘em, I mean you did leave to get your pussy played with.” You scoffed, hitting her arm gently. “You bitch!” 

“It’s the truth!” She chuckled as she parked the car, ironically across from where your friends were parked. You were ready to exit the car, but that’s when you’d realized.

“Hey, we never gave each other our names.” 

She smiled. “Ellie.” 

You gave her yours and quickly got out of the car “So I don’t get a phone number, nothing?” She said through the rolled down window, rolling your eyes you reached for her phone quickly making a contact and handing her phone back. 

You quickly made your way back to your very irritated friends, you gave them a weak smile. The walk of shame didn’t do much to back up the lie you told Cam but hell, you’d have to find a way to stick to it. 

“So no kiss goodbye?” Ellie yelled from her car, you turned around smiling brighter this time. 

“Sorry babe, I told you, M’not that easy.”

“Oh sure!” She made a little pussy eating gesture before sliding back into her car, you flicked her off giggling. “Who was that?” Your friend Sara asked, you brushed her off before joining the others in the car.

-

That day had an interesting effect on you, the sex you had was engraved in your mind. It was the only thing you could think about for weeks, the only thing you could really get off too at night. You told Sara and Cam about your little hookup, which they scolded you for leaving them out of the loop for so long but applauded your boldness. 

Unfortunately for you, Ellie never called. You tried giving her the benefit of the doubt, making up excuses to why she never called. She was probably busy with work, or visiting her adoptive father in the south, maybe she’d forgotten about your number or was too scared to message you. There had to be a reason, a good one at that – being ghosted for over a month was starting to get to you.

On the Fourth of July, your friends had planned a small house party. They barbecued and brought the alcohol, you sat on the couch with Cam as he scrolled his feed and you went on about Pixel’s disliking to his new cat food – on the contrary he was a rather picky cat – as he continued to refuse the new brand. 

That was until Cam came across something, “Hey, isn’t this that girl you hooked up with at the beach?” He pulled up her profile and the memory came flooding back, you did your best to not clench your thighs together. “Yeah, why?”

He opened her story which read ‘happy fourth!’ with Lana Del Ray’s ‘National Anthem’ playing in the back. It was a layout of four photos, but it was the last one that got you the most. It was her and another girl sharing a rather warm kiss, you felt your eyes watering a bit. 

You grabbed Cam’s phone, closing the story and looking through her page. Her first post with the girl dated to around a week after you’d hooked up with her, you continued to look scrolling through the highlights.

A bunch of date nights, hand holding photos and the one that made your stomach churn the most. They were both visibly bare laying in bed together and happier than ever, an aesthetic couple's post; you were in shambles.

“You ok babe?” Cam asked, you got up before he could place a hand on your shoulder. You locked yourself in the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror, tears began to fall. You didn’t know this girl, only that she was a really good fuck. You could only ask yourself, how could you be so stupid.

[heartsiebyul]

Deuce Spade x Male Reader

Love Hurts—Literally

Shared pain and sensation

Soulmates who share physical pain and sensations—though the injuries aren’t real, the agony is.

(m/n) hate his soulmate.

Well—not hate, exactly. It was more like constant irritation. An endless stream of bad luck in the soulmate department. He could feel every bit of pain and sensation his mystery partner experienced, and with his notoriously low pain tolerance, it was absolute torture.

What made it worse? He knew his soulmate was some kind of sports fanatic—specifically, someone obsessed with running. Every morning, without fail, (m/n) would wake up with a deep ache in his legs, the chill of wind brushing over skin that wasn’t even his. It left him shivering beneath his blankets, cursing whoever the hell was doing laps before the sun even rose.

And now, limping his way through the hallways of NRC, (m/n) scowled and muttered curses under his breath. His calves throbbed with phantom pain—sharp, persistent, and unforgiving.

He finally reached his classroom, dragging his feet before slumping into his chair with a groan.

Epel glanced up from his book. “Having a hard time?”

“Who wouldn’t be having a hard time,” M/n grumbled, “when your soulmate is a running addict who decided today, of all days, to go for a ten-mile sprint?”

Epel blinked, amused. “Again?”

“I woke up early because of the cold—my legs were numb! It’s not even winter yet!” (m/n) sighed dramatically, massaging his calves with visible frustration.

“Have you found him yet?” Epel asked curiously.

M/n just groaned. “Nope. It’s up to fate now... I’ve been dealing with this since middle school. Do you know what it’s like to wake up with pain in your left eye or ribs and not even know who to blame?”

Suddenly, (m/n) winced, then blinked. The ache in his legs eased, replaced by a warm, soothing sensation. He relaxed instantly, letting out a small breath of relief.

“...He’s massaging his legs,” he muttered, glancing down. “Oh, thank the Great Seven.”

While (m/n) was sighing in the classroom, Deuce Spade sat in the Heartslabyul dorm lounge, diligently massaging his legs after his morning run. He always felt bad about the pain he passed on to his soulmate—even if he didn’t mind his own injuries and pain, he was all too aware of how much his soulmate suffered.

“Hey, Juice!” Ace called out, walking in.

“Don’t call me Juice,” Deuce muttered, eyes still focused on his task.

“Yeah, yeah. Trey-senpai asked if we could help him bake a cake later.”

“Sure, sounds good,” Deuce replied, fingers pressing gently along his calf muscles.

Back in the classroom, (m/n) let out a grateful sigh. The pain dulled to a hum—still present but far more tolerable. Despite the daily suffering, he couldn’t deny that his soulmate—annoying and reckless as he seemed—was surprisingly considerate. Every time (m/n) had to endure bruises or punches, he could also feel the care that followed: ice packs, gentle first aid, warm showers to soothe sore muscles.

His soulmate was probably a delinquent back then. A caring delinquent.

In the Heartslabyul kitchen

“ACE!” Deuce snapped, clutching his bleeding finger.

Ace winced. “Oops—sorry! I didn’t mean to bump you.”

In Pomefiore

(m/n) suddenly yelped in pain, clutching his finger.

“F-Fuck!” he hissed, holding up his hand. “OW, OW, OW—damn it!!”

Epel panicked beside him. “Hey, are you okay?! What happened??”

“My soulmate cut his finger,” (m/n) groaned, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “It hurts so bad! Ugh, he’s gonna be the death of me.”

Call (m/n) dramatic over a simple cut—but what could he do? His pain tolerance was embarrassingly low, and every minor jab felt like a mortal wound. But this? This was betrayal.

And yet, surprisingly, (m/n) had never truly resented his soulmate. Despite the constant pain he brought, (m/n) could never bring himself to hate him.

He simply endured it, no matter how much he disliked it, no matter how much it hurt—he endured it all the same.

──── ──── ──── ──── ──── ────

(m/n) had had enough.

“Epel, let’s go. We’re finding my soulmate today.”

Epel blinked. “Are you serious? how will you find him?”

"I don't know, but let's try our luck finding him at the Track and Field Club, since he loves running." (m/n) said. His instincts were kicking in — maybe, just maybe, he should try it.

Dragging his friend along, (m/n) wandered around campus, hoping fate would finally give him a break.

As they rounded a corner, (m/n) spotted a dark navy-haired student talking to a ginger-haired one. The student wore a Track and Field jacket. As he turned to leave, (m/n) caught a glimpse of something—bandages wrapped around one of his fingers.

His heart skipped a beat.

The cut… the finger...

Epel nudged him. “Hey, let’s ask that guy—he might know him.”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

“Hey! You’re Ace, right?” Epel called out.

Ace turned, a bit surprised. “Oh, hey. You’re Epel. And you’re... (m/n), right?”

“Yes. Hello,” (m/n) greeted, slightly tense.

“What’s up?” Ace tilted his head.

“We just need to ask—who was the guy you were just talking to?”

“Oh, that’s Deuce. Deuce Spade.”

“The bandage on his finger… when did he get it?” (m/n) asked quickly.

“Hmm, oh—that? The day before yesterday. Kinda my fault.”

The day before yesterday... (m/n)’s thoughts reeled.

The cut. The Track Club uniform. running. The aching legs.

One by one, the puzzle pieces fell into place.

Deuce Spade was his soulmate.

He turned to Epel with wide eyes. “I think... I think he’s the one.”

──── ──── ──── ──── ──── ────

While the trio talked, Deuce was already sprinting across the field. His club had a competition coming up, and his competitive side was fired up.

He didn’t expect a squirrel to dart across the track.

He yelped mid-stride, swerving—but his foot caught, and he tumbled hard. Pain exploded through his leg.

Clutching it, he grimaced. “I’m so sorry, soulmate...” he whispered under his breath.

Back at the courtyard—

“AAARGHHHH!!” (m/n) suddenly dropped to the floor, clutching his thigh.

“FYXK?!?!?” he cried.

“(m/n)?!” Epel shrieked, kneeling beside him. “What happened?! Are you okay?!”

(m/n) trembled, sweat dotting his brow. “M-my soulmate... he tripped or something... oh my god, it’s so bad...”

He pointed at Ace with a shaking hand. “You. You need to go to Deuce. Now.”

Ace blinked in shock. “Me?!”

“He’s hurt! His leg—he fell! GO!”

Seeing the panic and raw emotion in (m/n)’s eyes, Ace didn’t waste a second. He turned and ran.

──── ──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Later…

After some rest and a message from Ace, (m/n) limped toward the infirmary, heart pounding.

He peeked inside... and there he was. Deuce Spade, sitting upright, his leg wrapped in a bandage.

Their eyes met.

For a moment, the world seemed to pause.

(m/n) stepped forward, cheeks puffed in frustration. “You.”

Deuce blinked. “Me?”

“You absolute menace! You run every day like a maniac, you punch people, and I have to feel everything! Do you know how much pain I’ve been through?! I should sue you for emotional damage!!”

Deuce stared, wide-eyed and stunned. Then, slowly, he softened, looking sheepish. “So... you’re my soulmate?”

(m/n) huffed, arms crossed. “Unfortunately. Yes.”

“…I’m sorry,” Deuce said earnestly. “I never meant to hurt you. I always try to take care of myself afterward, I swear. I figured... if I couldn’t stop the pain, at least I could try to ease it after.”

(m/n) blinked, his heart fluttering a little.

“…That’s... actually kind of sweet,” he muttered. “Still hurts like hell though.”

Deuce offered a small, shy smile. “Can I make it up to you?”

(m/n) looked away, face flushed. “Massage my legs for life and maybe I’ll consider it.”

Deuce chuckled gently. “Deal.”

“My name is (m/n l/n).”

“Deuce Spade. Nice to meet you.”

And just like that, the ache in (m/n)’s legs didn’t feel quite so bad anymore.

Despite having a lot of ideas for this series, I'm having a really hard time lol.

[whisperedmeg]

QUIET PROOF ―.✦ s.r. soft animal series ∘ part v

pairing: spencer reid x fem!nurse!reader

summary: a morning ambush from spencer’s friends tests a bond still forming. when doubt creeps in, love answers — not loudly, but clearly.

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

w/c: 2.7k

tags/warnings: post-prison spencer, vague talk of intimacy but nothing explicit, jj and garcia being cutie nosy bffs, reader gets insecure and anxious and spirals a bit, spencer is a reassuring sweetie pie

a/n: this one goes out to all my fellow anxious girlies with a words of affirmation love language. as always, appreciate all comments/likes/reblogs more than I can even express! thank you sm to everyone who has followed this series so far 🫶🏼

series masterlist

I woke to the faint weight of sunlight brushing my face through the thin curtains, soft and gentle like a secret only the morning knew. For a moment, I laid still, feeling the steady rhythm of Spencer’s breath against my back, the warmth of his body curled close. Something had shifted between us overnight — I could feel it in the quiet spaces, in the way he hadn’t pulled away, hadn’t spoken, yet didn’t quite let himself relax, either.

Neither of us said a word. We didn’t have to. The air between us hummed with a tentative understanding — maybe hope, maybe fear — and I wasn’t sure which of us would break the silence first.

I traced lazy circles on his arm. His hand found mine, fingers curling around mine with a softness that made my chest ache in the best way. I smiled into the quiet, this small bubble of peace we’d started creating together.

Things started to lean toward something more — a brush of lips, the slow heat of skin meeting skin — when suddenly, there was a loud knock at his front door.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling away and scrambling out of bed. “I wasn’t expecting anyone. I’m sorry.”

He padded quickly across the room in just his boxers, trying to finger-comb his hair into something less Einstein-like. From the other side of the apartment, voices drifted in.

“Hey, Spence,” a woman called through the door. “You’ve been kind of off the grid lately, so we thought we’d drop by.”

“And by ‘drop by,’ she means ambush,” another voice added, singsong. “Hi, boy genius. Don’t mind us. We just want to make sure you’re still alive.”

Spencer winced. “It’s JJ and Garcia,” he whispered, looking like he might spontaneously combust. “They’re my colleagues. I haven’t, um, told them… about you.”

I silently thanked some invisible force of the universe for convincing me I should wear shorts under his t-shirt last night instead of just my underwear.

“I figured,” I said, sitting up and clutching the sheet tighter. “Do you want me to, like, hide under the bed, or should I just pretend I sleepwalked into the wrong apartment?”

His face crumpled into a smile — nervous, but genuine. “I don’t want to hide you. Just… maybe wait a second before you come out.” He finished pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt before walking out of the bedroom.

He walked to the front of his apartment and unlocked the door. “Morning,” he said, and I heard the practiced calm in his voice. “Everything okay?”

The more colorful blonde woman — Penelope Garcia, I guessed, based on photos he’d shown me — didn’t even pause. “Define okay. We’ve texted, we’ve called. You didn’t show up to our standing monthly brunch on Sunday!”

“I’ve just… been here,” Spencer said, clearly trying not to panic. “Taking time.”

The other woman, who I assumed had to be JJ, narrowed her eyes. “Time for what?”

That was when I moved. I wasn’t sure why — I could’ve stayed hidden — but something in me didn’t want to. Maybe it was the warmth still clinging to me from the way Spencer had held me all night. Maybe it was just that I liked knowing where I stood. So I stepped quietly into view, hair still a mess, heart thudding like a drumline, blanket wrapped around me like a fluffy shield. “Um. Hi,” I said, voice soft and a little shy and awkward, but steady.

Garcia froze mid-expression, her mouth hanging open before she clamped it shut. JJ blinked once, then tilted her head.

Spencer stammered out an awkward laugh. He ran a hand through his hair and introduced me, motioning for me to come stand next to him.

JJ’s eyes flicked from me to him, then back again. “Nice to meet you,” she said, visibly recalibrating. Her smile settled into something kind. “Sorry to barge in like this. We didn’t know Spencer was seeing someone.”

Garcia, clearly never one to resist a dramatic pause, took a breath and beamed. “You are a vision. Spencer Reid, I did not see this plot twist coming. When on earth did you find the time to meet someone?!”

I laughed, a little startled by how easily they both made space for me. “Sorry for the surprise. This is not how I usually meet people,” I said as I gestured towards my overall messy appearance. “And definitely not how I planned on meeting Spencer’s friends.”

“Trust me, it’s not even in the top three weirdest ways we’ve met some of Spencer’s acquaintances,” JJ teased.

Spencer groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Do you guys want coffee?”

“Yes, please,” Garcia said, already stepping inside and handing JJ her purse. “I also want answers, but I’ll wait until we all have some caffeine. I’m not a total monster.”

JJ followed her in with a smile. “This won’t be an interrogation, by the way. We’re just… protective. He’s family.”

“I get that,” I said, glancing at Spencer, who gave me a quick smile over his shoulder as he started pouring water into the coffee pot. “I’m the same way with people I care about.”

We all made our way to the kitchen, where I perched on a stool, still wrapped in a blanket like some kind of toga-clad guest on a morning show. Garcia was already scouring Spencer’s cabinets for mugs.

“So,” she began, “how did you two meet?”

“I’m a nurse,” I replied. Once her blank stare made me realize that my response didn’t actually answer her question, I cleared my throat with an awkward laugh. “At, uh, Millburn. I’m a nurse in the infirmary there.”

That made JJ glance up from where she was doctoring her coffee. “Really? That’s how you two met?”

I nodded. There was a pause — not an uncomfortable one, just a moment of absorption.

“Huh,” Garcia said. “Well, that’s a meet-cute I did not see coming.”

Spencer made a small coughing sound and handed me a mug like he needed to redirect his awkward energy somewhere.

JJ looked at me for a second longer. “That couldn’t have been easy. For either of you.”

“It wasn’t,” Spencer chimed in. “But that part is over now.”

JJ leaned back against the counter. “I’m glad you had someone looking out for you in there,” she said to Spencer.

“I did,” he said quietly. “She’s the one who got me moved out of gen pop, actually. It was her medical report that convinced the warden to put me in protective custody.”

Both women looked at me with something resembling awe and gratitude in their expressions, then we moved along to sipping our coffees.

There was another short pause, broken when Garcia pulled her phone out of her purse and wiggled it dramatically. “Okay. So. About that reinstatement news.”

Spencer groaned. “Penelope…”

“I didn’t break into anything,” she insisted, holding up her hands. “I just… peeked. And word on the encrypted street is, you’re about two weeks away from an official decision. And it’s definitely looking like it’s leaning positive.”

Spencer looked stunned for a second — hope and fear battling quietly in his eyes. He didn’t say anything right away, just nodded slowly.

JJ stepped closer, resting a hand on Spencer’s arm. “Whatever happens, we’re here. Okay? You’re not alone.”

“I know,” he said. His voice cracked a little.

We finished our coffee slowly, the conversation drifting toward lighter things — Garcia’s latest side project (something involving 3D printed dog collars?), JJ’s boys (Spencer’s godsons, I learned) and their ever-expanding collection of Nerf weapons, and the absurdity of trying to explain to anyone outside the BAU what their job actually was. They asked me more questions about myself, but it didn’t feel like an inquisition. It felt like they genuinely cared to know about this new mysterious person in their friend’s life.

Eventually, they stood to go, giving Spencer gentle hugs and me a warm goodbye.

Garcia leaned in, her voice low and conspiratorial. “Take care of our boy, okay?”

“I will,” I said, meaning it.

And when they were gone, when the door closed behind them, I looked at Spencer, finally releasing the breath I’d been holding since they first knocked.

“I think they like you,” he said.

I smiled, letting out a sigh of relief tinged with joy. “I like them, too.”

And I liked him. More than I knew how to say. But maybe, for now, this was enough.

—

It had been one week since JJ and Garcia had shown up on Spencer’s doorstep, bright-eyed and suspicious and exactly as wonderful as I’d hoped his friends would be. One week since I stood in his kitchen in a blanket toga, answering soft but pointed questions over coffee. One week since Penelope squeezed my hand and told me to take care of “their boy,” and JJ gave me a look that said she saw me.

In the days that followed, everything had both shifted and stayed the same.

Spencer had his final psych eval with the Bureau. I worked more shifts at Millburn. And each night, I came back to him — or he came back to me — and we made a quiet ritual out of not saying too much about what any of it meant. We kissed until our lungs burned, explored each other’s bodies with hands and mouths that knew how to be reverent. There were moans and whispers, and the dizzying pleasure of being skin-to-skin. But still — no sex. Not yet. Sometimes he’d stop suddenly, forehead pressed to my collarbone, murmuring that he needed a minute. I always gave him one. Sometimes two.

It wasn’t unspoken. But it also wasn’t discussed. It just… was. That boundary had become part of our rhythm. He didn’t rush, and I didn’t press. We were building something with our hearts and hands before letting our bodies finish the story.

Tonight, we laid tangled on his couch, a half-watched documentary playing quietly on the screen — something about extinct languages that I could only follow for about five minutes before getting lost; classic Spencer fare. He was behind me, his arm looped around my waist, and I was tucked back against him like a comma in the sentence of his body. He traced shapes into my hip bone like his fingers were thinking out loud.

But for some reason, my mind wouldn’t still. A silly, passing comment he made earlier about how nice of a person I am tugged at the taut wires in my brain. I stared at the blue light of the TV and tried to focus on the narrator’s voice, the familiar cadence of academia. It was useless, though — my thoughts had already started spiraling.

Spencer always called me beautiful. Kind. Wonderful. Nice. But those words were just broad strokes. They didn’t feel anchored in who I was, not really. He hadn’t said why he liked me, just that he did. And part of me — the part that had built walls and lived too long inside my own overthinking — started whispering dangerous little questions.

What if I was just… convenient? What if I was the safest thing he’d had in a long time, and he was mistaking that for something else? Sure, he looked at me like I was something precious. But that didn’t mean he knew me.

Maybe everything he thought he felt for me was just transference. Maybe I was just the person who kept him from unraveling in prison, and now he didn’t know how to let go.

I felt my body begin to tense. My breathing grew shallow. My chest ached with the weight of my own unworthiness — a feeling I thought I’d outgrown, but apparently not.

Behind me, Spencer shifted.

“Hey,” he murmured, pausing the documentary. The room fell into a soft hush. “You just disappeared. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I said automatically, eyes fixed ahead. “Just thinking.”

His hand brushed my side. “You’re shaking.”

I hadn’t realized I was. My throat tightened. “I don’t want to ruin this,” I whispered.

“You won’t.”

“I just… sometimes I think maybe this isn’t what I think it is. Like maybe you only feel any sense of attachment to me because of what I was to you in there.”

Silence. My shame filled the space between us like smoke.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low but steady. “Please look at me.”

I turned, hesitantly, until we were face to face. His eyes searched mine like they were scanning for injuries — soft, deliberate, full of that quiet panic he always tried to hide when someone he cared about was hurting.

“I know it’s stupid, I know I shouldn’t think like that, but… you’ve never actually said what you like about me. You just use words like kind and wonderful, which are very nice things to be called, obviously, but they’re not… they’re not me, not really. I’m terrified this is all just gratitude disguised as something more. Or that one day you’ll stop being grateful and realize I was part of the damage.”

By now my voice had begun to shake, and I was blinking fast. Spencer moved instantly, sitting me up and kneeling in front of me, both hands on my thighs.

“You’re not part of the damage,” he said, and his voice was low and sure. “You’re the reason I made it out of there still believing people could be good. You didn’t just help me survive. You made me want to.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

“I didn’t fall for you because you were kind to me in prison,” he said. “I fell for you because you notice things other people don’t. You read people like I read books — not just with interest, but with care. You’re perceptive. Sharp. You ask good questions. You make people feel seen.

“I fell for you because you see me, exactly as I am. And you don’t ever flinch. You don’t try to fix me or save me. You just… stay. Even when I pull back. Even when I don’t know how to move forward.”

His voice caught for a second, then steadied again.

“You’re funny, even when you don’t mean to be. You make these little under-your-breath observations that always make me laugh. You help people like it’s instinct, not obligation. And when I panic, you don’t panic with me. You just breathe, and wait, stay, and let me come back.”

Tears pricked hot at the backs of my eyes. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to interrupt.

“I fell for the way you carry things quietly, like your own heart has had to do the heavy lifting too many times but never hardened. I fell for the way you always ask me what I want instead of assuming. And how when you touch me, it never feels like I owe you anything — you touch me simply because you crave my closeness and want me to feel wanted. I fell for your stubbornness, and your calm, and the way being with you feels like home, no matter where we are.”

He paused, eyes locked on mine. “So yeah. I fell for you. I’m grateful for the way you helped me when I was in Millburn, sure, but it’s more than that. I like you. I want you.”

I stared at him, heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. “You fell for me?” I asked, barely more than a whisper.

He nodded with that pure, honest softness only Spencer had. “I did,” he said. “I do. I'm still falling for you. Every day.”

I let out a shaky laugh that was halfway to a sob, my chest cracking wide open. “Good,” I whispered. “Because I’m definitely falling for you, too. So much so that it terrifies me — good terrified, though.”

His expression softened in a way that made my whole body ache. Like my words had knocked something loose in him — or maybe settled something that had been rattling too long.

For a long, quiet moment, we just looked at each other. Breathing. Shaking a little, together.

Then he leaned in slowly, resting his forehead to mine. “You’re not something I’m clinging to. You’re someone I’m choosing.”

And I believed him.

ᝰ.ᐟ

[tomkaulitzssgirl]

BE QUIET | TOM KAULITZ

not a request but something i thought about 👀

the bus was quiet now, everyone else already tucked into their bunks or seats, the hum of the engine the only sound. you and tom were squeezed together in his top bunk, the tiny tv flickering softly in front of you, casting a blue glow over his face. the blanket was pulled up over your legs, and you leaned back against the wall, trying to focus on the screen.

you were with them since the start of the tour, tom begging you to come and follow them around the world, not wanting to leave you back home.

how could you say no?

so you decided to go, being free from lessons and studying on the road. and now you found yourself in his arms every night just like you wanted.

tom’s eyes, however, were all over you. without warning, his lips brushed gently against your neck, warm and slow. you didn’t say anything at first — just hummed softly, letting your body relax a little into his touch. his fingers traced along your waist, light and teasing.

then, as the show played on, his hand slid lower, slipping beneath the blanket and settling somewhere very private. your body stiffened instantly, a rush of panic tightening your chest.

“tom… what are you doing?” you whispered, voice shaky.

he looked at you with wide, innocent eyes, lips twitching like he was trying not to laugh. “what? i’m not doing anything,” he whispered, but his hand didn’t move away. it stayed where it was, fingers tracing slow, teasing patterns just beneath the blanket.

your legs moved on their own, spreading a little as a reflex, the warmth of his touch making it impossible to stay still. but then you shook your head quickly, voice low but firm. “tom, we can’t… georg’s right there.”

he bit his lip, eyes sparkling with mischief but softening a bit. “yeah, i know,” he said, voice husky. “but it’s just us here, right? and we can, if you’ll be quiet.”

you swallowed, heart racing, caught between wanting and the reality of being so close to georg.

you didn’t know how to say no when tom touched you like that. it was like your body remembered something your mind hadn’t caught up with yet. the warmth of his hand, the way his lips pressed soft kisses along your jaw and neck—it was both soothing and electrifying.

you bit your lip, trying to stay quiet, but small, shaky moans slipped out. tom caught them every time, pressing a kiss to your lips, his eyes dark with mischief and something softer, like he cared more than he let on.

“shh,” he whispered each time, his breath warm against your ear, “be good.”

he kept rubbing his finger over your clit, while his other finger pumped inside you, sending shivers all down your spine. and slowly, you started feeling the knot forming in your lower stomach. so you let yourself go—letting the feelings wash over you, the nerves fading into a quiet thrill. when your body tensed and your breath hitched in a soft gasp, tom kissed you hard enough to muffle it, his finger never stop moving inside as he rode your high.

caught up in the heat of the moment, tom didn’t hesitate. before you knew it, he shifted quickly, settling himself on top of you. his eyes locked onto yours, dark and serious, like a man who hadn’t eaten in days and was ready to savor every second.

he took your hand and guided it to where he wanted—right against his crotch. the warmth beneath your fingers was unmistakable.

“feel that?” he murmured, voice low but teasing. “that’s just for you.”

your cheeks felt hot as he said those words. you always loved when he talked dirty to you. how intense he was in these moments.

he groaned softly as your hand moved over his crotch, the sound low and full of need. but then he shook his head, a bit impatient but with that playful glint in his eyes.

he moved your hand away as he freed his length, pumping it a bit himself.

“no time for that,” he whispered, voice rough but smiling, “i need to be inside you.”

you nodded, feeling the exact same way, biting your lip softly, your heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement. without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around tom’s neck, pulling him closer as he lowered himself gently on top of you.

his breath hitched slightly as he moved just enough to let himself brush teasingly along your slit, slow and deliberate, drawing soft shivers from you.

he studied your face, eyes low and glazed with lust as you gasped, your mouth slightly open.

he shifted slowly, easing himself inside you with steady, careful movements. the quiet gasp you both shared broke the stillness—a shared breath of surprise and connection.

after a moment, he started moving, slow and sweet, matching the rhythm of your breathing. his lips found yours in a gentle kiss, soft and lingering, like he wanted to memorize every part of you.

it felt like he was taking his time, really feeling you around him, how good and warm you felt.

“fuck.” he bit his lip as muttered the curse under his breath, his movements picking up just a little — enough to make his grip on you tighten, but careful not to shake the bed or make a sound.

his eyes met yours, dark and focused, as he balanced the need to hold back with the growing heat between you.

your legs tightened around his waist, feeling him deeper inside you, you could swear he was in your stomach. the shift in angle made you moan louder than you meant to and tom’s eyes locked with yours instantly, and his hand flew up, pressing firmly over your mouth.

“shh,” he whispered, smirking down at you, his breath warm against your cheek, “i told you to be quiet.”

his voice was low with an edge of control in it, something that made your heart race even faster. the mix of urgency and careful restraint in him sent a thrill down your spine. every move he made was deliberate, like he knew exactly how far he could take it without giving you away.

this time, tom didn’t hold back. his movements grew faster, forgetting about the shaky bed beneath you both. low groans escaped his lips, muffled by curses under his breath that made your heart race even more.

you whimpered and squirmed beneath him, the urge to call out his name growing impossible to ignore—but you bit down hard, desperate to keep quiet. tom caught the tension and leaned down, pressing hungry kisses along your neck, sucking gently, marking you in the dim light.

you couldn’t help it—your nails found their way into his back, gripping him tight as the rush of the moment swept over you.

after a while, you felt yourself getting close, the tight coil of tension winding higher and higher. you tried to mumble it softly against his hand, your voice barely audible, tears in your eyes burning. tom caught it immediately, his eyes locking with yours, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

he pressed his palm a little firmer over your mouth, then gave a slow nod—permission clear in his gaze.

“yes baby,” he whispered, voice rough, “cum for me baby. cum all over my cock.”

that was all it took for you to arch your back and throwing your head back against the pillow, eyes rolling upwards. you moaned so loud it could still be heard even through his hand, but in that moment, you didn’t care. the pleasure was too much to think about anything else.

tom’s eyes darkened with something fierce and urgent. seeing you like that — so completely ruined because of him — pushed him over the edge too. he bit his lip, his breath catching as his movements became sloppy.

“fuck! s-shit, i’m coming inside you, baby.” he rambled before letting himself go with a groan, head thrown back, neck sweaty.

he fell down on top of you after pushing some more inside you, both of you needing to calm down.

you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours. his breathing slowly evened out as you whispered soft reassurances.

tom leaned down, planting a tender kiss just above your collarbone, right on your breast. then, with a small smile, he lifted himself up slightly, eyes searching yours. “you okay?” he asked quietly.

you nodded, a small grin tugging at your lips. “yeah, i’m good. how about you?”

he smirked, voice low and filled with satisfaction. “i’m fucking amazing.”

you laughed softly, the tension easing between you. “you know what? this was fun. i kinda liked the risk.”

he chuckled, brushing a stray hair from your face. “yeah… definitely one for the books.”

you and tom fell asleep tangled up in each other’s arms, the quiet hum of the tour bus lulling you into a deep, peaceful rest. the next morning, you woke up slowly, feeling soft kisses being pressed on your cheek.

“morning, baby.” tom’s morning voice was deep and raw and it made you almost wet all over again.

“morning.” you whispered back, still sleepy, rubbing your eyes.

he chuckled and got up on his elbow, yawning as he opened the curtain to look around. “there’s no one. quickie before breakfast?”

you breathed out a laugh, swatting his arm, “stop it. you’re never tired, are you?”

he shook his head while stretching, “never. i’m a sex machine.”

you rolled your eyes with a small smile playing at your lips.

after a few moments, you both decided to get up and find the others. but as soon as you stepped into the common area, the chatter stopped abruptly, all eyes on you. you and tom exchanged confused glances, unsure of what just happened.

they were all sitting down, mugs in their hands and smirks all over their faces.

then bill broke the silence, a sly grin on his face. “so, georg was just telling us about you two… having fun last night. said he actually heard it.”

your cheeks flushed a bright red, and you glanced at tom, who was looking pretty smug about the whole thing.

“wait… you really heard that?” you whispered, disbelief and embarrassment mixing in your voice.

georg shrugged, smirking. “it’s only a fucking curtain dividing us, y’know.”

the room burst into quiet laughter, and you buried your face in tom’s shoulder, half embarrassed, half amused by how impossible it was to keep anything secret around here.