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aethelwyneleigh27 · 25 days

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Toothache

How does one go "You're Too Sweet For Me" to "My Baby's Sweet As Can Be"?

Synopsis: Simon Riley finds himself stuck in a situation, growing feelings for his roommate who's so annoyingly caring, domestic, sweet and too good for him. What happens when he let's himself indulge in the sweetness rather than cage himself in the bitter life he's been told is the only one he's deserving of and the only life he's known?

Apologies to this mess of a lyricfic, I couldn't help it even though this was supposed to be a relationship analysis..

MEN WRITTEN BY ANA HUANG ARE GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME. Alright back to our original programmed schedule with Hozier. ALSO SURPRISE! THIS CONTAINS 3 HOZIER SONGS as an apology for not posting these past two weeks due to me enjoying holidays, reading, prom dress picking and wanting to stab myself because of life, there's the added bonus 👀

My CoD Masterlist

My Simon Riley x You Playlist

Also reader in this one had a lot of characterization, she's me fr, so AFAB?Reader, Fem!Reader, Short!Reader, Reader is VERY feminine with fashion, soft-girl-sunshine!Reader and Chubby?Reader. Y'all have no idea how hard it is to write without a personality and physical intimacy in romance, I tried but failed 😭

Warnings and Disclaimers: Mentions and details on sexual content ahead (is this considered smut? Idk anymore). Not detailed smut but vivid memories of sexual intercourse (especially the dialogue) with Simon. Again, this is a safe account for all ages because I'm not a MDNI acc, you are responsible for your own media consumption. DO NOT GO ON MY DMS, INBOX OR REPLY TO MY CONTENT TO TELL ME YOUR AGE. I don't need to know that and let's strive to not make each other uncomfortable. Mentions of questioning of religion or rather belief on afterlife??

Pink, bold and italic: Lyrics

Italic: recalling past events

Little snippet of an image of how I imagined he'd hold you, courtesy of the one and only @ave661

"It can't be said I'm an early bird, it's 10 o'clock before I say a word. Baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?"

Simon Riley was never a man to live the life he was taught to in the military, it was out of habit for him to not leave his room until around noon. Then there was you, his roommate, he didn't exactly calculate how much it would affect his personal life to save money through rent by willingly letting someone within the same living space.

He'd find himself with not even a wink of sleep, hearing your footsteps through the thin walls, hearing the lock on the windows outside click open.

"You kept telling me to live right, to go to bed before the daylight. But then you wake up from the sunrise."

He'd always hear you, quite frankly it was like nagging on the constant.

"Simon you shouldn't do that, you'll hurt yourself"

"Simon please go get some rest"

"Simon.."

He'd swear he'd rip his own ears out every time his name falls from your lips from how sweet and chirpy it sounded and yet deafening silence would consume him whenever you aren't around.

"You don't gotta pretended, Baby, now and then. Don't you just wanna wake up dark as a lake? Smellin' lika bonfire, lost in the haze?"

Something about you makes it so tempting for Simon to give in, I mean it would be a one time thing, wouldn't it? So soft, so pliant, he set himself up for an addiction. It wasn't healthy, he knew this, he'd convince himself of the fact that he would end up hurting you.

Just too different, it repeated like a mantra in his head. He was bitter, brooding and didn't find any sense of pleasure in living. Why'd you think he has the job he chose? It's all he knew, till you skip your way into his life, giving him the sweetness he was deprived of.

"If you're drunk on life babe, I think it's great. But while in this world, I think I'll take my whiskey neat"

Drowning himself in alcohol, a trait Simon promised himself he wouldn't ever do when he was young, setting his glass down with a small thud from the wooden table. But what would the kid version of him know about life. He didn't have healthier options of coping with what seems to be his dilemma.

But then there you were, sweet little thing coming home at the late hour in that skimpy dress of yours. Revealing too much to the eyes of those who wish to have you for themselves with just one look. Where did you go that night?

"My coffee black in my bed at three, you're too sweet for me"

Desperately trying to keep himself awake and at bay from his thoughts of you. Drowning himself in now two cups of straight black coffee to help him focus.

It was odd, you got used to the scent, was strong with a lack of sweetness but it calmed you down knowing he was around.

How he'd corrupt you, he wanted to shatter that rose tinted glasses of yours to save you from himself because being with him would change you. Selfish but he doesn't want that, you were utter perfection..

Simon further delved into his feelings, what the fuck was wrong with him?

"I aim low. I aim true, and the ground's where I go. I work late where I'm free from the phone and the job gets done"

Grumbling, Simon walks back into the apartment in the middle of the night. You heard a thud, you come out of your bedroom, yawing from you incomplete sleep.

"Si..? Are you hurt? What happened?" You asked in a soft tone, careful not to agitate someone would could possibly be pissed off.

Simon stays silent, glaring at you as his eyes was only thing visible because of his balaclava. Your soft gaze intimidated him, because why would he feel that squeeze in his heart?

"But you worry some, I know but who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate. The rest of you like you're the TSA, I wish I could go along Babe, don't get me wrong..."

The only thing Simon heard was a sigh from you and nothing more, you walk up to him, each footstep feeling louder than that last.

Something Simon didn't expect you to do was wrap you arms around his waist, tiny thing you are that your head only goes up to his chest. Your body against his, basking in the warmth in contrast to the cold weather he had to deal with coming home.

"You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. If you can sit in a barrel maybe I'll wait, until that day.."

You took care of him that night, to his reluctance and stubbornness. Despite refusing, he had no choice, he wouldn't want a soft thing like you on his ear the whole night till he agrees. You were persuasive in your own irritating way.

Sitting on the edge of the tub of the warm bath he's in, washcloth in hand. Touch was so gentle, why was it so soft? Why's it so warm? "It's the water you fucking idiot" his subconscious screaming at him. In denial.

Why is his heart beating so fast..? He wants to stab it to stop the feeling..

"I'd rather take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three. You're too sweet for me"

Using both your hands this time around, one gently holding his chin with your fingers while the other wiping away at the eyeblack he had. Every scar on his face felt the graze of your finger.

The slow blinks, your eyes on his. Before any conscious thoughts consume Simon, he lifts his arms from the warm water and wraps them around you.

Your nightgown was now damp but you couldn't care less, now with the man you were pinning over, foreheads against the other.

"Si.." you softly whisper. That nickname will be the death of him, you'll be the death of him. He crashes his lips on yours, not wanting to let go till you both were panting. You were too fucking sweet, your lips, your skin, everything. He wanted a taste and he got it...

"My lover's got humor, she's the giggle at a funeral. Knows everybody's disapproval, I should've worshiped her sooner"

Another sleepless night wasn't uncommon for someone like Simon.. however this aching feeling wasn't, he doesn't know where it's from or what it's about. Not until he heard you in the kitchen, letting out a giggle even though you knew better.

"If the Heavens ever did speak, She's the last true mouthpiece. Every Sunday's getting more bleak. A fresh poison each week "We were born sick"

That sweet fucking voice, like the angels speaking to him themselves. "Oh- I'm sorry Si, did I wake you up?" You asked, turning around to the sound of his footsteps.

That tiny nightdress of yours, a reminder of the night you spent together, that morning you slept in his bed.

Lashes beautifully displayed on the delicate skin of your under eyes. Soft noises while your chest was peacefully moving up and down with every breath.

"She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom". The only Heaven I'll be sent to, is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well. A, Amen, Amen, Amen"

"Simon.. Ahh~" you moan out softly, your body writhing underneath him. It felt hot, sweaty despite the well ventilated room, so intimate from something that was supposed to be the farthest thing from domestic.

"Shhh, you can take it sunshine.. You don't want the neighbors to hear us, do you?" Simon whispers, callous hand covering your mouth with as little pressure possible, you whimper at his words.

Closing your eyes to lose yourself in the pleasure you've never felt before. Your body being worshiped with gentle hands and soft kisses that leave marks by the very same man who kept distancing himself from you, now he'd stop at nothing for your pleasure.

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life."

"Simon.. no more–" you whined. Scratching his back hard enough to leave marks without being aware, he'd always imagine what those pretty pink nails could do to him.

"Just one more, please sunshine.. you remember our safe word right?" Simon asks for you to nod softly, you didn't have energy to take anymore. "I told you I'll make you feel good, didn't I? So be a good girl for me and take it, hmm?"

Your eyes roll back at his praise, your legs shake with one after another wave of pleasure running through your body. This man was starved.. insatiable.. who would be able to resist such a request? Not you.

"If I'm a pagan of the good times, my lover's the sunlight to keep the Goddess on my side. She demands a sacrifice, drain the whole sea, get something shiny"

It took everything in Simon not to worship the ground you walked on that night, he wasn't trying very hard, was he? Because always.. at the end of the night, you're in his bed, his mind, his life.

Was it really a sin? To want something you don't deserve? Simon stayed up that whole night, not a wink of sleep while thinking of whether this arrangement should continue. Every bone and organ in his body telling him to be selfish, take what was something that wasn't his to take.

"Something meaty for the main course, that's a fine looking high horse. What you got in the stable? We've a lot of starving faithful that looks tasty, that looks plenty, this is hungry work"

Simon's gaze, never faltering on your sleeping figure that he refuses to go anywhere but his own arms. He tries to close his eye to compose himself, free himself from the emotions you emit from him.

His efforts were to no use, all he saw was the image of you, sweetly smiling, those doe eye staring right through his soul.

"No masters or kings when the ritual begins. There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin In the madness, in the soil of that sad earthly scene. Only then I am human, only then I am clean"

You were getting too close for your own good, Simon knew that, he'll be damned if he let's himself hurt you. So he does what any stupid man would do, avoid you like the plague. Did it mean nothing? Were you just some fling, never to be talked about again?

Fuck you Simon Riley, he made you feel loved in bed like no man ever has or ever will, completely ruining your chance of ever thinking of anything else and that was just a hook-up session? Maybe this one time you can let yourself be delusional, was there really something more? Only one way to find out.

"Oh, oh, Amen, Amen, Amen, Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life"

You caught him, fucking finally, after days of waiting and trying to get him at the perfect time. "Si.." you whispered softly, you didn't know where to start. He took a quick glance at you before looking back at what he was doing.

"Simon Riley, don't fucking ignore me. Not after everything that happened those nights" You said, it was stern but he needed to hear it. It made him stop, think about what had happened.

Before he could generate a response, "Why?" You asked. It was a vague question, why was he ignoring you? Why does he feel this way? Why does he love you yet refuse to act on it?

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life.."

"You don't deserve a man like me, you deserve one who is like you, optimistic, sweet, fucking beautiful and alive.. A man who's not damaged, scarred, has blood on his hands and haunted by his past. A man who's not afraid to show his love for you. A man who won't put his burdens on your shoulders and a man who will take care of you instead of the other way around. That's what you deserve and I can't give that"

Everything felt like it came to a stop, were you hearing that right?

"You have no idea how much you contradict yourself, Si. How are you so sure that you haven't given those things to me already? You might not be like me but "like me" isn't what I want.. I want you, every flaw, every beautiful scar. Not once before your silent treatment have you hurt me, it's frustrating yes, but you are worthy of that. Every struggle, frustration and mistake, every bit of your love is worth all of that. I want you to see that Si, your actual true worth rather than what some psychotic fucker decided to torture you with"

"Boys, workin' on empty. Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? I just think about my baby, I'm so full of love I could barely eat"

"Si?"

"Yes, Sunshine?"

"I love you" You whispered after smothering him in a plethora of kisses. Never has anything made Simon melt more in his life than his wife say that. Doesn't matter how long it's been, how much the both of you have been through or how much frustration the both of you were going through..

It will always stay the same, the feeling those three words give him, like the first time, every moment feels that way. Familiar, finally.. Home.

"There's nothing sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree. 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be, she give me toothaches just from kissin' me"

He always thought about how unfaithfulness was such a struggle between some people, he thought about how good he has it constantly, reflecting back on what he used to have to how now this is something he never thought he'd have or deserve.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

When a man finds himself in the verge of embracing death's arms, what causes the struggle? What causes him to fight that pain, to keep on going? Not once has this crossed Ghost's mind.

No. He's not Ghost, he's Simon. Your Simon.

And you're expecting your Simon home, fuck everything else, he'll give the biggest "fuck you" to death itself and crawl home to you because he'll be damned and he'll experience everything he has in his life over and over again just to hold you again.

"Boys, when my baby found me I was three days on a drunken sin, I woke with her walls around me. Nothin' in her room but an empty crib and I was burnin' up a fever I didn't care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her. She never asked me once about the wrong I did."

It should matter, the amount of blood on his hands. Not once did you judge him for it, what the fuck was wrong with you? Giving a monster such as him a bath like he was some innocent stray kitten, although this time around it was far more messy. The dried blood caked underneath his finger nails.

Flashing him a tired smile while you wiped off the blood that made the water in the tub a hue of brownish-red. Taking your hand in his, his lips brushing against your knuckles. The way you looked at him was enough to make him cry.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

"Fucking get up" Simon repeats to himself, "She needs you, she loves you" despite how many times he's convinced himself you didn't due to the voice of his father in his head, it felt like a knife twisting in his heart imagining how it would be for you without him.

How much you cried the night he came home a day later, you told him yourself, practically sobbing while clutching your aching chest and him with your other arm how you weren't ready for Price to show up at your doorsteps holding Simon's belongings.

He won't let that happen.. he can't...

"My babe would never fret none, about what my hands and my body done. If the Lord don't forgive me, I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me"

Simon knew it, no one would ever love him like you do. No one would show him the same acceptance, devotion, care, concern and love. It wasn't healthy to be so attached dependently to someone in love.

He couldn't help it, it felt so right, everything with you did. Never a judgmental one, at least towards him. Always first to hold him, the first to ever take away the heavy guilt that weighed his heart and shoulders down after he'd done something he knows he'll go to hell for, if it's even real

"When I was kissing on my baby and she put her love down soft and sweet In the low lamplight I was free. Heaven and hell were words to me"

Every inch was kissed, not a part wasn't worshiped. "So fuckin' beautiful, so sweet. All for me, hmm?" Simon mumbled against your skin, suckling on the soft sweetness that he so claims. All hickeys, no bruises.

Fuck, he'd not just survive but thrive on just you. No other sustenance, your supple thighs he adores to cover in purple, your neck, your lips and your skin that he often compares to sugar syrup in his head.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her"

The question was, was it worth it to live an eternity of lifetimes filled with suffer to be with you in at least once? The only answer to ever graze Simon Riley's lips was the word "yes", the day that changes is the day that he'd be the biggest bull-shiter the world has ever known.

Simon opened the door to your shared home, "Daddy!" A loud squeal wakes him up from his dread of what he's seen on the field.

"How's my little sunshine been? 'Ave you been good to your momma while I was gone?" Simon asked, carrying the little girl in his arms.

"Yes! Momma said we'd go to the park tomorrow as a reward for me helping out!" Little one saying it so proudly, Simon couldn't help but smile, beaming with pride as his little girl grows up to be what he recognizes as a good person.

"Simon..? You're finally home, I missed you so much" You said, peeking out the laundry room. You walked out, quick to give him a peck on the lips.

"I love you Si.."

"I love you too Sunshine"

Also this is a very long fic.. I expect long feedback.. @connorsui 👀

Does this make sense? Idk anymore it's like almost midnight and I'm running on a few hours of sleep. GOD MY PROM DRESS LOOKS SO GOOD, I CAN'T WAIT.

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thelightdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @fawnchives @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

Trying out new dividers as well by @anitalenia

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luviemax · 3 months

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Could you do fic for Fernando Alonso with wife pregnant!reader where she's got Brixton Hicks and he'd worried about her but she still accompanied him to the race and then her labor kick in? His team took care of her and call the medic and calm him down during the race because he got panic and excited. Later he quickly got to the hospital and still witness his child(s) birth. I don't know if it make sense. (He's at Aston Martin) Add something you'd like. Tag me later! Thanks! :))

oopsie daisy!- oneshot

a/n: lol this is gonna be so goofy in the best way possible ||@pear-1206||

warnings: very possibly inaccurate portrayals of pregnancy, i'm just a girl!!!!!!!

-> fernando alonso x pregnant!reader, no physical descriptions of reader besides pregnancy.. duh!

word count: 512 words

masterlist

The Spain Grand Prix was a momentous and historic race, especially for 2 time world champion, Fernando Alonso, considering the fact that it was his home Grand Prix.

This year's Barcelona Gran Prix was made even more special considering the fact that his first child was on the way. He had gotten his mother, father and you paddock passes to be in the garage for the race. The day was going to be perfect. In Fernando's book, at least.

You, on the other hand, were struggling. It was nearly a week past your due date, and your baby didn't seem to be happy about it either. For the last month, you had been struggling with Braxton Hicks during the last few months of your pregnancy.

It was a calculated risk for you to attend the Grand Prix, but you'd been given the green light by your doctor, and you also wanted to support Fernando, so, yeah. Your luck couldn't possibly be poor enough for you to go into labour at your husband's home Grand Prix... right?

The Barcelona weather was sweltering and warm on the day of the Grand Prix, however, much to your relief, you were granted the chilly air of the air conditioning from the inside of the paddock. You were still able to watch the race from a platform, not only from the TV, but also from window peering above the track.

Everything seemed to be fine, until 3 quarters through the race. It was around lap 40 when you felt a warm gush of water in between your legs.

"Ana?" You call out for your mother-in-law. "Yes, mi amor?" She replies, half distracted by the race. "I think the baby is coming." You cringe and brace your arms around your stomach. "Ay dios mío!" Ana exclaims, guiding you towards the exit of the paddock. Her loud exclamation begins to raise eyebrows across the paddock, and when the crew of the Aston Martin team begin to notice the commotion that's occurring, they immediately step away from their work and rush over to assist you.

It's the final and 66th lap of the Grand Prix when Chris, Fernando's right hand man and race engineer, begins to speak over the radio. Fernando's had a good race, currently holding a 20 second lead over the second driver.

"Fernando, now that your position is secure, I have a surprise for you when you finish the race." Chris speaks from the pit-wall, a cheeky grin on his face. "Ah, that's never good." Fernando laughs over the radio as he passes over the finish line and takes the first victory for the Aston Martin team. "I think you might like this one."

Everyone notices how Fernando is absent from the podium.

It's really abnormal for the champion of the race to be gone from the podium, but nevertheless, the drivers don't really ask questions as they've been told that he had to handle an urgent personal matter.

Little do they know, Fernando is on the way to the hospital to accompany you in giving birth.

#fernando alonso #fa14 #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso fluff #fernando alonso smut #f1 x reader

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plush-rabbit · 11 months

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Coffee and Fated Tragedies

Something cute about The Spot or something, but like before he became The Spot. Maybe I'll do something about him and his holes later

Word Count: 5K

A/N: I need him, like carnally. There’s like nothing about him and I need to get this off my chest before I like combust so¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You stand near a water cooler, watching the bubbles float to the top. Your cup has been empty for the past minute, and you consider taking the rest of your break outside. The fluorescent lights are making it difficult to stay awake, and the sterile air at Alchemax is burning your eyes.

With a sigh, you reason to yourself that the short trip to the parking lot would waste the remainder of your break, and you’d have to walk back to your desk by the time you even stepped near the doors. You turn your head, and watch as a scientist turns the corner, taking slow and careful steps to make sure the obnoxious amount of files that he’s holding doesn’t tip over.

He slows down enough, taking a pause next to the water cooler, and with a peek around the files he spots you looking at the files with wide eyes. There’s a certain look in his eyes that has your neck burning.

“Um-” you clear your throat, placing the empty cup of water in the trash- “do you need any help?”

His eyes scan you, giving you a quick run down, suspicion twisted into his features. “It’s fine- I'm fine,” he snaps, holding the file just a bit tighter, almost defensively. And as if the world were against him, the top half of the stack nearly spills over, before you hold onto it, steadying the stack once more. The tips of his ears flush into a deep hue of red, and you smile at him nervously.

“I’m on my break,” you tell him. “It wouldn’t be a bother. Plus, I’m sure you would much prefer for the files to be in order rather than all er- out of order,” you reason.

His eyes dart around the room, before finally letting out a sigh. “If you wouldn’t mind, then yes. I’d appreciate the help,” he says slowly, as if still can’t believe that he’s allowing someone else to hold such important paperwork. “Please and thank you,” he mumbles.

You smile, nodding your head, quickly grabbing halfway through the stack and holding it firmly in your hands. Having the files fall after offering assistance is the last thing that you need- especially after the scientist had such a tone in his voice.

Words stay stuck in your throat as you follow behind him without a sound. You’re sure you should be talking to him, but he isn't making conversation either. Plus, you aren’t entirely sure what you would talk to him about. The weather? You only felt it when you clocked in in the morning. Lunch? No, you’ve heard around that most scientists don’t even take their lunch these days- too busy with whatever has been going on these days. Your mouth pulls into a thin line. Truth be told, you want to ask about the files- you’re positive that it has something to do with whatever has ad the building in such a buzz. But you doubt he’d even tell you.

“I apologize for making you waste your break on this,” he mumbles, giving you a quick glance over his shoulder. He makes eye contact with you briefly before he looks forward once again.

“Huh? Oh! That’s fine. It’s no worries, really. I was the one who offered after all,” you say hurriedly. He huffs and silence befalls the both of you once more, but you’re much too eager now after his words. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but where are we delivering them to?”

“Dr. Octavius’s office. She said that she needs to review the recent ana-” he stops short and he straightens his back, clearing his throat- “experiment.”

“Oh,” you say. You don’t have the luxury of knowing the inner workings, and a part of you wishes that you did. You always were a bit of the nosey type. “Are you part of those experiments as well, um- I’m sorry I don’t believe that I asked for your name.”

“Johnathan. Ohnn. Dr. Ohnn,” he says, stumbling over his words.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Dr. Ohnn,” you say with a smile, stopping just behind him when he turns his head.

“And you are?” There’s a tense layer laced into his words, but when you answer, he smiles slowly and nods to himself. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he mumbles.

It's only been a few days since your encounter with the scientist and maybe it's because you've finally noticed him, that you notice him more and more.

You see him in the cafeteria, surrounded by other scientists.

In the hallway, carrying a much more manageable stack of files that asking if he needs assistance would probably be offensive.

You see him peering into the different break rooms located on each floor, locking eyes with you for a moment, before pouring himself a cup of coffee.

He lingers in doorways, looking around and lifting his chin to peer over the crowd, trying to find someone. Sometimes, you’ll catch his eye and when you do, he looks away quickly and walks away.

A part of you thinks that maybe he’s waiting for you to approach him, but you can’t be too sure on that assumption. It is a nice thought to have though.

It isn’t until your coworkers grab your bicep and whisper in your ear at how convenient it is that Dr. Ohnn appears where you are. There’s a smile that stretches across their face, and for a moment, you play along that the doctor might be interested in you.

“Oh yeah, the cute and stalkerish scientist,” you say with a smile, placing a hand over your chest. “What a catch,” you sigh, rolling your eyes at the fits of giggles.

Truth be told, you wouldn’t mind having said cute and stalkerish scientist be fond of you, but it probably isn’t that. It’s a nice thought to have, but you don’t fester on it for too long. He’s a scientist- one of the important ones around here, and you’re simply here for your paycheck and the benefits.

You sit at your desk, typing and retyping emails, answering calls, and sneakily going on your phone when you can. For a moment, you think to yourself that maybe you should quit- live in the middle of nowhere, tough it out, but then your coworker drops off a pastry at the edge of your desk with a hasty “you’re welcome” and when taking a bite, the idea of living without the sweet baked good.

A shadow crosses over your desk, and there’s a soft ‘click’ sound and you look up to see a cup of coffee placed on your desk, and over it stands the scientist who’s been not-so-secretly searching for you.

“Hello,” he greets you, his tongue tripping over your name. “I was wondering if you wanted a cup of coffee.” There’s a fiddly tone laced into his words, and it makes you smile.

He certainly is cute.

“Hello Dr. Ohnn,” you greet. “Thanks for the coffee.” You grab the cup, and peer inside the cup. It’s half full. You glance up at him. “I don’t suppose you brought creamer or anything like that with you?”

You see the apple in his throat bob as he gulps. “No,” he says, almost ashamed. “I uh- I didn’t know how you liked it and thought to play it safe with black. I apologize.”

“Would you like to walk with me to the breakroom?” You offer, standing up and grabbing at the cup. You grab at a napkin and cover the pastry, before taking a step away from your desk.

Instantaneously, he perks up. He smiles at you, taking a step back to allow you to walk with him. His forefinger and thumb pinch at the leg of his glasses, adjusting them so they sit properly on his face.

The walk is short, only light conversation about the weather and how the day has been going so far fills the air.

Thankfully, the break room is empty. You don’t think that Dr. Ohnn would like an audience when he’s with you.

You walk to the counter, and grab a pack of creamer and sugar. The dark coffee turns to a lighter version of itself.

“So-” Dr. Ohnn rushes to your side when you start to speak- “what made you bring me a cup of coffee?” You stir in the contents and bring the rim of the cup to your lips, giving him the chance to speak.

“I wanted-” he trails off, and turns his head- “I just thought it would be nice to repay you. After you helped me with the files the other day.”

A smile graces your lips and he returns it, before looking away and clearing his throat. “Well thank you for the coffee, Dr. Ohnn. It was much appreciated.”

“Johnathan,” he corrects. You tilt your head, confusion scrunching your brows. “You can call me Johnathan.”

“Oh,” you chirp. And realization dawns on you, as you smile. “Okay then. Thank you for the coffee, Johnathan.”

He nods curtly. “I just apologize that it wasn’t anything better than the break room coffee. I made sure to brew a fresh batch.” He shifts his weight nervously on each foot. “I’d have brought you some fancy coffee, or taken you somewhere but-” his face turns into a deep hue, and he pulls along the collar of his shirt. “I uh- didn’t know your schedule or if you’d even want to go.” He lets the end of the sentence trail off into a rushed slur of words.

You dig your nails into the cup as the realization of what he wanted to do dawns on you.

The cup is placed down, and suddenly the room feels hot. “Oh! Really?” You unconsciously lean towards him, and he nods, looking away from you. "I’m flattered.” You can feel the tips of your ears burn. “I mean, if you’re not too busy after the end of the day, I’d love to get a cup of coffee with you.” You bite the inside of your cheeks before taking a risk. “Or we can get a bite to eat? Whatever you prefer of course.”

“Really?” He asks, a smile stretching across his face. “I’d love to do that. Either. We can definitely get something to eat.”

“That’s great!” You exclaim, clapping your hands together. But you immediately retract. “Ah. I usually take the train to work, so if we can get something maybe close by? Like walking distance or-”

“I have a car,” he rushes. Your eyes widen and he straightens himself. “I can take us wherever you want to go. I don’t mind. I can drop you off at the station or at your home. Wherever you’d like.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” You ask, nerves making your stomach twist and turn.

“Not at all.” He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t mind. Honest.”

Nodding your head, you smile. “Okay,” you tell him. “If you’re sure you wouldn’t mind, then we can go to whatever restaurant- so long as you pick it.”

“Okay,” he says, smiling widely at you. “I’ll meet you at your desk, after I clock out,” he says confidently, before smiling a bit more softly. “Is that alright with you?”

“It’s alright with me,” you confirm.

“Great. It’s a date.” There’s worry laced into his words at his sentence, and you can't help the grin that grows.

“It’s a date.” He smiles when you agree with him. You reach your hand over, pausing and about to retract. With his eyes on you, you decide to commit. You reach over and grab his hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “I’ll see you later, Johnathan.” You give him another smile, before you wave goodbye, walking back to your desk with the coffee in your hand.

He sits down in front of you. After the rush of Spider-man- Spider-men, he reminds you- the building is in a panicked state. You’ve found some place to rest where the alarmed employees won’t peek through.

Your thumb ghosts over the red spot where the bagel had hit Johnthan. You click your tongue, frowning, and run your hand through his hair.

“Sorry about messing up your hair,” you mumble, running your fingers through the strands.

He shakes his head. “It’s okay.” He looks up, and your hands follow, curving down from the top of his head, down to cup his face. “Bagel had already messed it up.” He looks away from you, face growing warm under your palms.

“You took a hard hit.” He looks back down and you return to the top of his head, pinching away at any crumbs. “I forgot how strong Spider-man is.”

“Was,” he corrects.

You frown. “Is he not Spider-man?”

He murmurs something under his breath that you are unable to hear. “Not ours. It’s what I’m so busy with.” You choose not to respond, and he takes it as an invitation to continue further. “You saw me get hit with a bagel,” he groans. You smile softly even if he can’t see it.

You want to press further about whatever it is that he’s working on and why there are two Spider-men, but you know that it isn’t the time for that. You gulp and try to fix his hair, the once red spot, growing faint. Your mouth pulls into a thin line, and you take in a breath.

With his head still down, you return to cup his face, lifting him up slightly. He turns his head, his nose and mouth pressing against your palm. You smile at him, and lower yourself, pressing a chaste kiss against the spot. His face flames up once more.

“I’m just happy it was a bagel and not an apple,” you tell him. “Come on,” you tell him, reaching down to grab at his hand, “I’m sure one of us is being looked for.” He squeezes your hand, and follows you quietly.

You sit beside him, the car playing a song from your playlist, and the air conditioner blowing a nice cool breeze to combat the warm air that is outside. Your legs are tucked underneath you, the drinks dotted in condensation as the two of you eat inside the car.

Rain starts to pitter patter against the windshield and you turn your head to watch the drops collect.

You turn back to Johnathan, watching as he eats his fries. He raises his brows at you. “Sorry to make you waste your gas,” you say, feeling just a bit bad about it, but not enough to lose your appetite.

He shakes his head, quickly grabbing at your drink and taking a sip. You smile when he realizes that he grabbed the wrong drink. “No, no,” he comforts. “I like being with you. This is fine. Plus as a scientist, the pay is fine. As long as I have access to my bank account, I’m fine. There’s no need to worry about that type of stuff.” He reaches for your drink again, stopping short and sending you an apologetic smile, before grabbing at his own. He bites the tip of his straw, and takes a small sip before letting go. “If anything, I’m sorry that I took a drink from your soda.”

The rain collects, a storm furthering on, and you think you hear thunder somewhere. You two have flirted enough, been on enough dates to classify yourselves as “seeing each other” - whatever that means- when people ask, that it seems fine to take drinks from each other's straws. You know that what he did is an indirect kiss and you wonder if he knows that.

You reach over, cupping your hands over his and tilting the drink towards you. You look at him, before returning your gaze to the drink and place your lips over the straw, taking a small sip. The taste of his drink rests heavy on your tongue, and you want more of it.

“Now we’re even,” you say softly, letting go of his drink and returning to your side of the car.

His face flushes into a dark color, and his lips are parted open.

There’s a realization far off into your mind that he did realize what just transpired between the two of you and a soda.

Johnathan sets the drink down and adjusts his glasses, peering out the windshield where the rain washes down in waves. He turns back to you and reaches past the boundary that are the cupholders. His hands are warm as they cup your face, one reaches around, fingers curved over the back of your head, and the other holds you gently, letting you pull away if you were unsure about this, but you lean towards him.

Your heart beats against your chest, and you think that it’s going to bruise you, leave you battered and spill out, a bloody mess over his car.

You’d really have to apologize then.

The beating doesn’t stop- not when he’s pressing closer to you. It goes on, drumming inside of you, erratic and following the heaviness of the raindrops. It goes on as he kisses you, hands fumbling to keep the drinks steady when he pushes himself too close to you. He kisses fiercely, and desperately. His glasses press against your face, and you grab onto his shirt, twisting the fabric

The kiss deepens, and he pulls away for a breath of air, gasping for it as he presses pecks against the corner of your mouth. The cups be damned. You press yourself against him, your hands flat against his chest as you push him back, clambering across to sit on his lap.

His hands find themselves at your hips, and yours rest over his neck. He leans into your touch, and there’s a loud honk. You both startle, but he keeps kissing you, a hand leaving you to fumble with the seat.

Thunder booms in the sky, and he bunches your shirt in his hand.

The seat shoves back with full force, and you break away. You stare at each other with wide eyes, and you’re the first one laughing, wrapping your arms around him and giggling into his neck. Your heart still beats with a heavy pitter-patter. His laugh echoes in the car, and he holds you tightly.

“I like your laugh,” you mumble into his neck. You press a kiss against him, and when you nuzzle into him, you can feel his pulse quicken.

“I like you,” he says tenderly. “A lot.”

You pull away, and his hands slip underneath your shirt, his hands burn against your skin as he holds your waist. “I like you a lot too.” You press a kiss against him. “Do you want to come back to my place?” Your hands move to cup his chest. “I’ll make it worth your while,” you tease, kissing along his jaw. Underneath you, he stiffens and you smile. “How ‘bout it Dr. Ohnn?” You press yourself against him, giving a soft roll of your hips. “Wanna continue this back at my place?” You fix his glasses, and smile as he stares at you with heavy-lidded eyes with pupils blown-out.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “I’d-” and as if the universe were against the idea itself, his phone begins to ring. Quickly, you and him search for the phone, and just as abundantly as the tension had started, it ends. He grabs at his phone and clears his throat, giving you a smile before answering it. You can catch only snippets of the conversation, and you watch as his face falls, and he gives you a sad look.

Disappointment makes your shoulders fall. Whatever was going to happen, isn’t. At least not tonight. Clumsily, and something a lot worse than the “walk of shame”, you move awkwardly off of him, careful to not touch the drinks, and to not hurt him.

He finishes the conversation, just as you sit down. You turn to him, and wait for him to start.

“I have to go. It’s about work,” he says pitifully. “I- I don’t know when- Maybe we can-” he stops himself short. “I’m sorry.”

You smile, and close the gap between the two of you with another kiss. “‘T’s not your fault. Maybe we can pick this up again sometime.”

“Yeah?” He asks hopefully.

You nod. “Definitely.” You press another kiss against him. “I really do like you Johnathan.”

“And I really like you,” he mumbles, and your name sounds honeyed on his tongue.

“Mind dropping me off at least?” You ask, not really looking forward to having to call for some taxi service of the sort.

“Of course,” he says. “Anything for you.”

There’s a tapping at your window. It’s soft at first, and you only noticed it due to the pattern behind it. You groan and turn over, grabbing at your phone and hiding under the covers. The screen is bright and blinds you for a moment before you read the time.

The tapping at the window hurries and it’s far too late- or early depending how you look at it- to deal with whatever or whoever is behind the glass. You close your eyes, your stomach twisting into itself and hoping that after a few more knocks, whoever or whatever will just move on.

Then it starts to bang, and you jump with a start, almost going to turn on your bedside lamp, but stopping yourself. Maybe you could trick whoever is behind the glass that you’re asleep or not home.

You’re tempted to grab at the pocketknife that you have hidden somewhere in your bedside table. The knocking on your window grows relentless. Whoever is there is banging, and then it just stops. You hold your breath, slowly reaching your hand to grab at the knob to the drawer to blindly look for the knife while your gaze stays focused on the window.

On the other side, the words are muffled, and soft, but you hear them. Your name is whispered again in a hushed tone, the knocking returning, begging for you to answer. Slowly, your hand returns to your side, and the bed creaks as you shift your weight.

You recognize the voice. It’s him.

“Johnathan?” You ask in a shaky voice, hoping that you’re right.

“Yes,” he says hurriedly.

The blankets have twisted themselves around you, and you kick them off. As you shift and turn, the bed creaks. Light fills the room, a warm glow that has you wincing and moving towards the window.

“Give me a minute. Let me open the window.” Your hands fist at the curtain when he replies.

“No!” He shouts, and in a softer voice, he speaks again. “Don’t.”

Your hand returns to you, and you remember the rumor that was going on around Alchemax.

How Dr. Ohnn wasn’t- right. How he wasn’t human, or how he should have died. It was a joke around the office, as if whatever happened was humorous, but when someone asked, the joke died.

He couldn’t be whatever it is that the others were describing him as.

“Johnathan?” You call out. He knocks against the window. “Are- You can come in. It’s okay,” you reassure him.

“No,” he says again.

You frown, and fist your hands together, your nails digging into your palms. “Then I’m going to open the window.”

“Don’t.” He sounds scared.

“Johnathan.” Your voice is stern, at least that’s what you’re hoping for.

“This was a mistake,” he says. You’re sure that he’s talking to himself, but even so, you reply.

“You came here,” you hiss out, face burning with some type of emotion.

It’s silent, and you fear that he’s left. “I wasn’t thinking,” he says. “I just- I wanted to see you,” he mumbles.

Your shoulders slump. “I wanted to see you too.” It’s silent and you take a deep breath. “Please come in.”

“Okay,” he finally concedes. Before you can make your way to open the window, his voice starts again. “But you don’t have to open the window. I can get in.”

A nervous laughter escapes your mouth before you can stop it. “Whatever you say.”

You look around, wondering what he’s going to do. Maybe he’ll walk through the door. Or appear in a vent. But then a black spot forms on the ceiling, and you watch as something white, and black spotted exits through the hole. And then all at once, a lump of whatever it was falls to your floor.

It groans out in discomfort, and you watch as legs and arms straighten themselves out. Once upright, a man-shaped person- you aren’t entirely sure- is faced towards you. A black spot where a face should be stares at you.

The rumor was true. There’s a twisting in your stomach, and you yelp, pressing yourself against your headboard, and you immediately regret it, when he stiffens and moves closer to your bedroom door.

It’s Johnathan.

He’s all skin and spots, standing far too tall in your bedroom.

“I’m sorry. I just- I wasn’t expecting-” you bite at your bottom lip- “spots. Do you-” You pause. Does he eat? Does he drink? He stands so awkwardly, shifting his weight, and it reminds you of him. It’s still him. “Do you want to sit down with me?” You pat the space next to you, the one on the bed that’s close to the wall.

He must be feeling some type of way because he nods and walks over. He’s a mess of limbs, legs long and hands cup and twist at the bed sheets as he sits next to you. He still looks away from you.

You missed him. You open your mouth to tell him just that, that you wanted to see him and were worried for him.

“How have you been?” You bite the inside of your cheeks at the wrong words.

“What do you think?”

“I’ve missed you.” He looks at you, and you stare into the hole that place where his face once was. You wonder what expression he would make. You think he’d look surprised. “I quit Alchemax. There were cops and stuff and well thankfully I wasn’t a scientist so I was able to just leave. Cops still asked me some questions.”

“Where are you working now?”

“There’s this little library a few streets over-” you wave your hand in a vague direction- “pay’s all right, but I had some money saved up. I uh- might move. Get a smaller place, you know.”

“I think I’m not gonna have a place to live.”

“You can stay with me,” you say. “I’d like the company. You know, as long as you help pack and stuff. We- I can get your stuff from your place. You know, if the police haven’t taken anything as evidence.”

“Most of it has been taken.” He doesn’t explain further.

“I can get you some new clothes.” You peer at him, and you can’t help but just stare at him. “I’d uh- I’d have to measure you. Get you a scarf, or a hat. Maybe both,” you add.

“I can’t believe I’m in your bedroom and I look like this.”

You frown. “Yeah, well,” you trail off. You rest your head on a white part of him, your hand over his chest, fingertips just below a black spot. “I’m glad that you’re here. I was worried. I thought that- that something else had happened to you.”

“I’m sorry for making you worried.” You know that he means it.

“It’s okay.” You aren’t sure if you mean it. You worried yourself to tears. He grunts out a response, and you kiss at a white area on his shoulder. “Are you hungry?” You furrow your brows. “Can you eat?”

“You wanna ask about the holes, right?” He says, and you nod. “Might as well get it out of the way,” he mutters.

“What are they?”

“Spots. I’m thinking about calling myself The Spot.” He turns to you, and you grab at a hand, rimming the edge of it with the pad of your forefinger. “What do you think?” He says your name, but stops short, when he realizes what you’re doing. “Oh.”

You pull away, and he grabs at your hand and brings it back. “I’m sorry, I just-”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Can you feel it?” You ask, returning to another spot.

He nods swiftly. “You can put your hand in it.” You look up at him and tilt your head curiously. “In my hole. You can put your hand in my hole.” You snort at the phrase, but take him up on his offer.

Your hand disappears, and you watch as it comes up on another spot of his body. You flex your hand, and it’s surreal, seeing it appear from somewhere else.

“Woah,” you breathe out. “You’re so cool,” you mutter.

“You think so?” He asks incredulously.

“Mhm.” You nod slowly, pulling your hand partly out, watching as your fingers still peek out. “Super cool,” you mumble. You pull your hand out and you smile up at him. You turn your hand, seeing it fully intact, and you try to fight back a yawn, only to fail. “Are you tired?”

“I woke you up,” he says in a small voice.

“I’m glad that you did,” you say earnestly. “I’m happy that I got to see you.” You hold his hand in yours, and your fingertip goes along the white area of his body. “Do you want to spend the night?” You tighten your hand around his. “I want you to. I’d like you to get some rest.”

“You would?”

“Of course.”

“In your bed?”

You snort. “Of course, in my bed. It’d be fucked up if I gave you the couch or something.” You let go of his leg and slap his knee. “Come on, Johnathan. Get under the covers.” You grab at the furled up mess of blankets, straightening them over your body and his. He watches your every move, and keeps his face turned in your direction until the light clicks off and you can’t see him. You lay beside him, turning on your side, and resting your hand over his chest, careful to not let your hand dip into one of his holes.

“Goodnight,” he says your name in a quiet voice, one of his hands clutching onto your forearm.

“Night Johnathan,” you whisper, pressing a kiss against him.

#across the spiderverse #atsv #the spot #the spot x reader #johnathan ohnn #johnathan ohnn x reader #jonathan ohnn #jonathan ohnn x reader #atsv spot #spot x reader #i love him #he's so fucked up #i wanna like kiss #i fell in love with him the minute i saw he was all limbs and silly #and then i wanted him when he was all scary and limbs

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ferrstappen · 10 months

Note

Hello! Your writing style is amazing!!!

I was wondering if you could write about bf carlos and y/n on a little summer getaway with his family during summer break. With soft prompts like hugs from behind

Thankss

paella en mallorca l Carlos Sainz blurb

Palma de Mallorca was just one of those places; pristine waters, breathtaking scenery, great night life and even better food.

But that was before you met Carlos. Now it meant family game nights with his family, hushed whimpers in the middle of the night to not wake anyone up, laughter that made your cheeks hurt, stolen kisses when his parents weren't watching as if you were teenagers, mornings with dogs barking and waves crashing.

For some reason, days like this with your boyfriend's family were just as good as when you got him to yourself in your shared apartment, because seeing him with his family and being incorporated so easily in the dynamic was one of the best feelings ever.

Especially now when you were easily discussing the latest MET Gala looks with Ana and Blanca, sipping white wine, wearing bikini tops and a light cover-up, protecting your eyes from the sun as the boys discussed motorsports.

Nobody really wanted to be too close to the open fire where lunch was being cooked, the sun already too blinding and weather too warm for anyone's liking, but for some reason your boyfriend placed the charcuterie board near the paellera, forcing you to get up.

"Why are you giving my sisters more attention than me?"

You weren't even startled by the voice of your boyfriend as he placed his chin on your shoulder, forcing you to turn around and find his brown eyes shining and full lips trying to mimic a pout, but it wasn't really working, making you giggle while fixing a loose strand of his hair.

"You're welcome to the conversation, mi amor," you smiled at him, but the answer wasn't exactly what he wanted.

"No, it's my break and you are supposed to be with me," Carlos complained and turned you around, circling his arms on your bare torso and again placing his chin on your shoulder, stealing kisses on your cheek. "Come on, cariño. Let's eat and then we can go for a walk with Piñón, just the three of us,"

Of course you agreed, nothing got better than lazy days walking around with Carlos and Piñón, enjoying the sun and stopping for some good gelato or a cold beer on the way.

"Amor, why did you leave the board so close to the fire? The cheese is melting," you accused your voice using a tender voice, but that wasn't what got his attention.

He let go of your waist and walked towards his dad who was overlooking what he called su especialidad and didn't take kindly to anyone who told him what to do or how to do it.

"Papá, venga que se va a recocer esto," Carlos told his dad. Dad, come on, this is going to be overcooked.

His senior was outraged, trying to prove to his son that everything was cooking perfectly and to not mess with his paella, and of course your boyfriend retaliated, telling his dad he didn't want to eat something that was overcooked, because everyone knew Carlos Sainz Jr. was not going to stop until he proved his argument, even over something as silly as this.

He was in the middle of saying something about the right point of the squid or some ingredient when it was your time to wrap your arms around his middle and kiss the nape of his neck, his hands immediately finding yours and growing quiet, an automatic smile decorating his features with your touch.

"Gracias a Dios por mi nuera, pa' que cierres la boca un rato!" Thank God for my daughter-in-law so you can shut up for a while!

#carlos sainz blurb #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x oc #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x female reader #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 x reader

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gayhoediaz · 2 months

Text

jell-o

(inspired by reply i left on one of @texasbama's posts)

T | 1k | also on ao3

“I feel like jello.”

The words follow a few long moments of silence as they struggle to catch their breath, panting as they stare up at the ceiling of Eddie’s dimly lit bedroom.

It’s a fairly normal thing to say after an orgasm like that - Buck could huff in amusement, say ‘Me too,’ except Eddie isn’t praising his skills in bed. His voice is not drenched in happiness and the wonder of afterglow - it sounds… thick. Buck can read Eddie like the back of his own hand, even without looking at him. Eddie is not sad - not at all. Although, he's certainly… emotional.

Buck swallows, keeping his eyes on the ceiling.

After he pulled out, they ended up falling onto their backs like two people on a sitcom after having off-screen sex, needing the space to cool their body temperatures down - but now he moves his hand, blindly reaching until it finds Eddie’s. Eddie immediately responds to the touch, lacing their fingers together.

Buck squeezes. Eddie squeezes back.

Buck wants to say something, but he doesn’t. It doesn’t feel as if it’s what Eddie needs right now. It feels as if he’s gathering up the courage to elaborate, himself. So Buck gives him the time he needs, waiting patiently.

Another few beats pass. Buck remains quiet - moves the pad of his thumb back and forth over the back of Eddie’s - soothing him.

“I, uh…” Eddie finally continues, trailing off to swallow, the click of his throat audible in the silence of the room. “I used to have to use that every time Marisol and I - I uh…” He stutters a little bit - which isn’t usually his thing, it tends to be Buck’s. “I - we-“ he stutters some more, his voice growing thicker.

Buck sighs, gently slipping his hand out of Eddie’s only to roll himself up onto his side, supporting himself on his elbow, eyes falling upon Eddie’s flushed face.

Sinking the hand into his hair, soothingly combing his fingers through the sweat-damp strands, he slips his other hand into Eddie’s instead, giving another reassuring squeeze.

Eddie’s eyes are closed, but the warm light of the bedside table lamp highlights the slight wetness collected around the corner of his eye. Buck leans down - just barely brushing his lips over the area. Eddie swallows again, squeezing his hand.

“With Shannon, things were… things were good, with Ana, I used to just… close my eyes. Wait for it to be over, you know, but with Marisol, I… I used to, uh… I had to use that.”

“You used to have panic attacks?” Buck can’t help but breathe, his chest aching. “With her?”

“No.” The word leaves Eddie’s mouth with a sad huff of amusement, as he finally opens his eyes, immediately finding Buck’s. “Almost,” he says, then. “Every time, I just… I used to repeat it, it was always this mantra in my head,” he says, bringing his free hand up to gesture towards his own temple. “Everything was okay. I wasn’t in danger. My legs were jello, my arms, my chest, my head, I was a giant…”

“…Eddie shaped jello mold,” Buck finishes softly. Eddie nods.

Buck swallows down the anger he feels at Marisol.

Rationally, he recognizes that she didn’t do anything wrong - likely didn’t have any idea whatsoever, because if there is one thing Eddie is good at, it’s compartmentalizing and pretending that everything is okay - especially when it comes to people that ultimately don't know him all that well.

Irrationally, however, the thought of her touching him when he didn’t enjoy it makes Buck want to vomit. So much so that he apparently makes a face he’s not aware of, because the corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches up of amusement, a huff leaving his nose as he reaches a hand across his own body, and up to fit his palm against the side of Buck’s face, thumb gently caressing his cheekbone.

Buck’s heart immediately calms down. He sighs, giving his other hand one last squeeze before he lets go, moving it to wrap around his wrist instead, nodding once to nuzzle his cheek deeper into his cupped palm.

“It was on me,” Eddie assures him. “I shouldn’t have forced myself to-“ he cuts himself off when Buck makes a slight huff in his throat. It may not have been her fault, but it wasn’t yours either, is what he wants to say - but instead, he nods, allowing Eddie to go on. “…anyway, I just - it… kept the panic at bay, but it didn’t really… work, you know? I didn’t feel…” he trails off again, shrugging best as he can while laying down. “Didn’t feel right, I never felt…”

“…like jello,” Buck hums.

“It helped - kept me from... panicking completely, but I never actually felt... like jello - not in those moments.”

“And jello is calm - relaxed,” Buck hums.

“Safe, yeah.”

“If you felt safe, you uh… you wouldn’t have to remind yourself you feel safe,” he says, briefly turning his head to press his lips to Eddie’s palm. Eddie hums, nodding. “But you’re jello now?” Buck asks, allowing a hint of lightheartedness to slip into his tone as he fits his cheek back into the palm of Eddie’s hand.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie says, the slight twitch of his mouth melting into a full smile. “You didn’t see my legs shaking?”

At that, Buck barks out a laugh - loud enough that he has to tilt his head back, eyes briefly falling closed; Eddie’s own chuckles harmonize with his own - and when their eyes meet once again, Eddie’s smile has grown into a full grin, the previous red-flushed tone of his eyes nowhere to be seen.

“I did,” Buck assures him, leaning down to bring his lips closer to Eddie’s. “I did see that.”

“Think you can make it happen again?” Eddie teases, his hand slipping up past Buck’s cheek, fingers tangling themselves in his hair as Buck lets go of his wrist, reaching down and across Eddie’s body to find a grip on the outside of his thigh, pulling it over to lay over his own. A few warm, happy chuckles sound somewhere deep in Eddie’s throat, and Buck nods once, only to brush the tips of their noses together.

“Mhm,” he assures him. “And again.”

#niesfics #buck x eddie #fanfiction #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley

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rkvriki · 1 year

Text

romantic moments with them - a playlist

omg ana was seen posting??? sorry for not posting but i've been so caught in my studies and i really needed to focus. also enhas comeback??!

make sure to leave feedback ! my requests are open and so is my tlak box so let's talk !

WARNINGS ! none really i think?? warn me if theres any!!

a/n: i got carried away in some of the members so sorry if theres longer one and shorter ones i jutsvfdhfef

word count: 1.8k

LEE HEESEUNG ! - bills by enhypen

enhypen’s new album had just come out and the showcase was now happening and you were watching it backstage through the monitors watching and supporting heeseung. you watched as danced and sang so passionately and your heart felt full watching him do the things he had always loved doing even before you met him in high school. you felt so proud watching as he and his group grew so much and how far they’ve become. it made you look back at the shy heeseung from a few years ago and see how much he changed, for better obviously, into a carefree person. heeseung was a very hard worker and you had to always remind him not to overwork himself and sometimes you worried he wouldn’t listen to you since you couldn’t be with him at all times. you know he had gone through a lot during his training days and you tried to make sure he didn’t have to go through the same thing now that he had debuted. the performance had just ended and you were waiting for your boyfriend to come backstage. the door finally opened revealing all of the boys sweaty from all their hard work. heeseung ran to you and pulled you up, spinning you in the air as he smothered your face with kisses. he put you down and you stared into each other's eyes like two fools in love, making you both laugh. heeseung cupped your cheeks and pulled you into a sweet and awaited kiss.

rest under the cut !

PARK JONGSEONG ! - die for you by joji

it was late at night and you and jay were out for a day night. you were just strolling around the city which was almost empty since it was almost midnight and the weather was pretty gloomy. even though it was dark you could still see clouds covering the sky. the walk was pretty silent, you were holding each other's hands, swinging hands back and forth. there was a comfortable silence in the air, the only sound came from people walking by or from the people talking in the esplanades around you. times like this made you feel like you were in a movie where you and jay were the main characters and only you and him mattered. times like these were rare for you and you were always afraid you couldn’t enjoy them to the max, so you tried make the most of them no matter the circumstances. suddenly it started raining, anyone's first instinct would be finding a place to cover themselves, but you two just stood still in the middle of the street, feeling the droplets wet your skin. you looked at each other as the rain got heavier and just laughed. jay pulled you into his arms as you both let out loud chuckles and spun around without a care in the world, enjoying yourselves in the rain. jay pulled you closer, his breath mixing with yours as you leaned closer until your lips connected in a deep kiss.

SIM JAEYUN ! - yukon (interlude) by joji

you and jake were spending a lazy day indoors, deciding to spend his free day at your apartment and doing things at home. having a full day with jake was a very rare thing to happen lately since he has a especially busy schedule for comeback season so you would only see each other very late at night, only having time for dinner together and him having to leave right after eating since he had to wake up extra early for practices and whatnot. so last night he came over to your apartment to enjoy the silence and privacy you two couldn’t have in the dorms. you were both laid out on your couch as a shitty movie you picked on purpose played on your tv. you both would let out occasional chuckles at awful scenes that would play in the movie. a especially bad scene played and you both started laughing so hard you had to clutch your stomach. words tried to get out of your mouth but none came since you were laughing so hard. you noticed jake’s eyes on you, and you looked at him as your chuckles died down “what?” you asked him, still letting out small giggles. “nothing” he answered “i love you.” he said “oh, why so out of the blue?” you asked, letting out a chuckle as you held his hand. he just shrugged and leaned in to kiss you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, making you smile into the kiss.

PARK SUNGHOON ! - self control by frank ocean

it was one of those rare evenings where sunghoon would appear at your house unannounced and you two would just hang out and sometimes have dinner before he went back to the dorms. this happened often since he never knew when he could or could not visit you, obviously you didn’t mind it, seeing him so unexpectedly always made you so happy and your heart felt so full knowing that he thinks of visiting you at the most random times. dark orange rays were peaking through your blinds since the sun was starting to set. the smell of food could be smelt in the living room as you cooked some food for both of you and some tunes were heard quietly in the kitchen, probably sunghoon putting some music on the speaker you had on the living room. you put the stove on the lowest heat and walked to where sunghoon was, sat on the couch scrolling through his phone. the melody from frank ocean’s self control was playing quietly, the song filling the area. you grabbed sunghoon’s hand and pulled him in a hug, making him chuckle at him but hug you back anyway. he kissed the top of your head and you both started swinging to the rhythm of the song. sunghoon hugged you tighter and you did the same, listening to the sound of his steady heartbeat along with the song that played.

KIM SUNOO ! - kiss me by dpr live

dating sunoo sometimes felt like a dream. he always made sure to plan the best days for you two, always trying to make the best out of them since you were always a little restricted as you tried to protect and hide your relationship from the public. he made sure to always prepare everything in advance and also made sure you were up for what he had planned or f you wanted to change anything. you had experienced so many things with him. from getting up at 3:30 am to get ready and watch the sunset in a place 40 minutes away from the city to camping with him in the middle of a mountain he convinced you was safe. today sunoo decided to be a little more cliché and he planned an outdoor date near the hand river, late at night where you could be alone, enjoying each other's presence. you were both laid in the picnic blanket as you looked at the stars and tried to make out the different constellations. “i literally can’t tell any of them apart.” you said looking at him. sunoo turned to look at you and opened his mouth to say something but he decided to stay quiet and just stare at you. he propped up on his elbows as he observed each of your feature, making you blush under his gaze. he leaned down closer to your face, but only left a peck on the corner of your mouth, teasing you. you started whining at him, making him laugh at your reaction.

YANG JUNGWON ! - jasmine by dpr live

concerts were something you found yourself enjoying a lot ever since you went to your first one. it felt so good to be in a space where so many people shared the same taste and you just loved the energy of people singing along to any songs that played. usually you go with your friends, but lately you’ve been asking jungwon to go on one with you since your friends sometimes bring their partners along and you also wanted to experience that. still he needed to remind you he couldn’t just attend a concert as he pleased but that din’t make you give up. yours and jungwons favorite artist was gonna have this concert in seoul, so obviously you wouldn’t miss it for the world and you literally begged won for days to come along which he ended up giving in. you both were in high places in the venue, since those were always less booked and you could be a little more private. the concert started and you both couldn’t contain your joy as you sang along. then a song that you both consider you guys’ song started playing. jungwon pulled you to his side as his arms embraced you and you started swinging along to the song, you back against his chest. you rested your head against his shoulder as you looked up at him. he looked down at you and pulled down both of your masks as he leaned down to kiss you, not caring if anyone even saw, it felt surreal to him.

NISHIMURA RIKI ! - understand by keshi

niki had invited you to come watch him dance in the studio at the hybe building. visits like this happened often, since he loved having your presence as he danced, saying, in his words, “you were his muse”. you also didn’t mind watching him, your chest always swells with pride and you watch as he gets better and better each time you, which you thought was impossible since he is already perfect in your eyes. niki has a tendency to be hard on himself, which ends up with you comforting him each time he gets angry at himself for thinking he is not good enough. it makes your heart break knowing he can’t see himself through your eyes, you wish he could see how flawless he looks in your eyes. you watched as niki danced, feeling the loud bass from the music vibrating in your chest. you loved when he could turn a simple studio into a huge stage and he owned it all. the song came to an end and niki did a playful bow as you clapped happily at him. other songs from his playlist started playing and understand by keshi played through. niki extended his hand to you “would you give me the honor to have this dance, m’lady?” you laughed at his choice of words but took his hand. he started swaying you through the studio, turning and twisting you, stopping as he put a hand on your back and swung you down. you stared in his eyes laughing at his playful gesture and placed a peck on his lips making him smile at you.

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katiexpunk · 2 months

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The Invited | Pairing Lucien Flores X Fem!Reader

Summary: Lucien Flores is invited back into your life in a very unexpected way, at a very bad time – what are you going to do about it?

Warnings: Borderline abusive, controlling relationship (not with Lucien). Like literally, we hate the reader’s fiancé. No, I’m serious, read this one with caution, there are heavy undertones of the reader’s fiancé being controlling and generally not a nice guy, no matter how much he tries to play the part. Implied infidelity. Heavy flirting, heavy tension. Religious undertones. Alcohol. References to Lucien being a playboy. References to wealth, art, and money. General Hollywood/California vibes. This one will have a happy ending. No use of daddy, no use of Y/N. This is gonna have some filthy fucking smut, hand to my heart.

Part 1 W/C: ~3.5K

A/N: Just, yeah…yep. I am as horny for him as you all are (like what the actual fuck). This story will continue as I learn more about Lucien and his character. P.S. Sorry if you got double-tagged, I accidentally deleted the whole fic so I had to repost.

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It started with one look, as many things do.

Initially, it was all just innocent glances across a crowded room, perfunctory nods, and polite whispered hellos in shared spaces. It didn’t take long for it to turn into more than that; that’s just who he is and the effect he has. You can’t say you didn’t hear the rumors, heed the warnings through the grapevines of the limitless supply of women who came before you, but listening never was your strongest skill.

The only girls you know who listen are strapped to a church pew, on their knees, and for what? Salvation? At least you know the pleasure of worshiping at the altar of a man who promises he’ll make you see god, a man who follows through on his word, no questions or fuck-all commandments required.

Or at least you did.

Maroon 5 said it best, even the sun sets in paradise.

++++

As you stand by your bedroom window, the last rays of sunlight paint the room in a warm, golden hue, casting elongated shadows across the minimalist decor. The gentle breeze from the Santa Ana winds whispers through the trees outside, carrying with it a sense of anticipation – dread – for the night ahead. You hate these things, but schmoozing is part of the role you have to play, just one of the many rules he’s slowly but surely made sure you follow. The good girl he’s made you become.

Focusing on fastening the back of your earrings, you watch the sun dip below the horizon, a silent witness to the transition from day to night – light to dark – although things don’t feel that light these days.

"There she is," comes a familiar voice from behind you, causing you to turn and find him leaning casually against the door frame. His presence brings a sense of unease, a reminder of the doubts that linger beneath the surface.

A forced smile plays on his lips as his eyes trail over you, his gaze filled with a familiarity that feels suffocating rather than comforting. "You look beautiful," he murmurs, you wonder if he believes it or if he’s just saying it to say it.

Most of the time, his admiration feels hollow, a facade that fails to mask the cracks in your relationship. In his eyes, you see reflections of expectations and obligations, a reminder of the compromises you've made at the expense of your happiness. It wasn’t always this way, especially in not while you were just dating, but things quickly shifted once you said yes.

You turn your attention back to the vanity in front of you and slip one final detail – your engagement ring.

“Thanks. Ready?” You ask, feigning excitement as you glide across the room, wrapping your arm around his. You can tell from the way he looks at you that he has something to say, something to critique, but he remains silent.

You descend the steps in the grand foyer as it welcomes guests with its opulent charm, bathed in the soft, flickering light of countless candles. The air carries the delicate fragrance of freshly cut flowers, mingling with the subtle scent of expensive perfumes and cigars. The walls boast exquisite paintings and sculptures, each hand-picked, and sourced from all corners of the globe – a deliberate show of wealth.

As you step into the room, conversations swirl around you, punctuated by the clinking of champagne glasses and bursts of laughter. You observe the guests, their designer attire and dazzling jewelry all but scream like me, I’m rich. Among them, art connoisseurs and collectors engage in lively discussions about the latest exhibitions and acquisitions. Directors, models, and Hollywood elites mingle effortlessly, their conversations flowing freely.

You're well aware that in L.A., half of the business dealings often occur in the shadowy corners of closed-door meetings, or in the expanse of lavish parties like this. It’s a city where nepotism runs rampant and connections are king. It's a city where who you know can often be more important than what you know, and navigating the intricate web of relationships is a skill in itself.

Dressed in an elegant gown, silky and yellow, your neck frosted in diamonds that shimmer like the stars above, you glide through the crowd with a grace that contradicts your inner turmoil. You’re good at this part, faking it, blending in. You might have grown up with this, but you never really felt like you belonged. It’s sort of strange to be surrounded by a sea of people, all while feeling like you’re stranded alone on a remote island.

As you exchange polite pleasantries and forced smiles, a nagging doubt creeps into your mind. Are you even meant to fit in with this crowd? Lord knows you wouldn’t be if you had anything to say about it, but being the daughter of a politician is a special kind of hell. We all have to make sacrifices. And you have – a lifetime of them. Sometimes, you can't help but long for simpler pleasures – a quiet Saturday night with frozen pizza, a bottle of wine, and a comforting movie. Fuck, you can’t even remember the last time you went out with friends, drank too much tequila, and flirted in innocent fun, or the last time you dipped your hand below the waistband of your panties without the fear of being caught.

Sipping your champagne, you endure a rather tedious conversation between the CEO of a tech startup and a broker. It doesn’t take long for the sensation of boredom to settle in, mingling with a growing sense of disillusionment. A dull pain throbs in your feet from the pressure of your heels. Their voices start to fade into the distance as you zone out, feeling increasingly disconnected from the authenticity you crave.

You decide you need a break, some fresh air. They’re not even listening to you; you're not even sure if they notice you're here or not. But still, forever polite, you excuse yourself anyway and make your way across the room, weaving through the crowd of suits and couture. You’re not thinking about anything except getting the hell out of here until you hear your name called behind you.

It’s a voice you’d recognize anywhere, in any lifetime, in any place. You stop in your tracks and look over your shoulder.

“Hi,” he says.

What the fuck? You’re sure you must actually be drunk now, or so bored that you’re delusional brain is conjuring him up. You don’t say anything in return, you just stand there. The room slows around you, bodies pause mid-motion, and your world goes silent.

“Been a long time,” he casually says, lifting the glass to his lips, eyes intent on yours.

His words, the low rasp of them, snap you back to reality.

“Lucien – wha, what are you doing here?”

“I was invited.”

You barely hear his response. Fuck, he looks so good. Handsome as you remember him, all salt and pepper curls, dark facial hair, and broad shoulders. He’s clad in dark jeans, and a colorful silk shirt, the buttons at the top undone, giving just the slightest glimpse of his sun-kissed skin and the chains that rest there.

Arousal pools in your belly, thick and heavy, a feeling that you haven’t felt in years. Not since him.

"Invited, by who?" you ask, your voice laced with challenge. He takes a deliberate step closer, his presence enveloping you in a heady mix of desire and tension. The air around him is thick with the sticky-sweet smell of cigarettes and the woody notes of his cologne. He smells good.

He's close now, close enough to send a shiver down your spine. You tilt your head back to meet his gaze, feeling the heat of his breath against your skin. Shit, those brown eyes. Your pulse quickens as his large palm closes around the back of your left arm, the touch sending electric sparks through your body. It's a soft but firm grip, possessive and confident.

As he trails his palm down the length of your arm, you hold your breath. He stops once your hand is gently balanced in his, and you feel his fingers brush against the cool metal of your engagement ring. Glancing around the room for a brief moment to make sure nobody’s watching, he dunks his head, and whispers in your ear, his lips so close that you think he might kiss your neck.

“I think you already know the answer to that, sweetheart.”

What.

He places a soft, innocent kiss on your cheek as he retreats and takes a step back. You don’t miss the way his eyes trail over your body, lingering for a moment too long on your collarbones. The muscles in his jaw tighten, and he gives you a polite nod, before stepping away, slipping into the crowd, leaving you woozy and confused.

What the fuck does that even mean?

As you internally grapple with what the hell just happened, your fiancé finds you in the crowd, possessively trails his hand along your waistline, and plants a wet, rather drunk, kiss on your lips.

“What did he want?” he asks, harshly.

“Nothing, just saying thanks for the invite,” you respond, hoping he can’t sense your lie. Hoping he falls for your trap.

“If you’re lying to me sweet pea, that’s gonna be a real problem.”

“I’m not.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“So why do you look so flustered, huh?”

“You know how I get when I drink champagne,” you retort, playing up your innocence.

“Right, well you better pull it together, can’t have my girl sloppy,” he warns, his voice a little slurry himself, his balance unsteady as he takes another sip. He’s moved on from champagne to whiskey. A bad combination, a dangerous one.

“You know the only reason I invited him tonight was that I think it’s an important lesson for you –”

You interrupt, “YOU invited him?”, your voice clear and stark. The truth hits you like a freight train. You want to cry, throw up and scream all at the same time.

“Of course. Listen, baby, I know you went through your slutty phase, but look how far you’ve come.. look how much I’ve helped you grow,” he slurs, “men like that, don’t deserve women like you.”

And there it is – the truth.

Your blood hits a boiling point. You give him a death glare, but he doesn’t seem to notice before he’s quickly moving on.

“Come on, baby.” I’m not your baby, not anymore, haven’t been for a long time.

“I’d like to introduce you to some people,” he says, grabbing a fresh glass off of the passed tray, and handing it to you with a little too much thrust, enough for a few drops of it to spill over onto the silk of your dress. Your fingers grip around it and you follow his lead, despite the bitterness you feel. Ugh. Why is it so easy for you to fall into line now? Secretly, you hope the dull burn of the alcohol will distract you – calm you – make you forget.

You’re drunk, aroused, mad, and confused, and on top of it all, you’re fading in and out of the dull conversation your fiancé has you engaged in, or rather than listening to. Not like he lets you get a word in, anyway. You scan the room looking for him whenever you get the chance, trying not to be too obvious. You finally spot him in the corner and try to ignore the magnetic pull that lassos around you once you do. He’s talking to a model, because of course he is. Is he intentionally trying to make you jealous? Or is he just being his usual fuck boy self?

You chug what must be your sixth glass of champagne to forget the bitter memory of the last time you saw him – when he told you that you should just keep things casual, that he couldn’t handle the pressure of being with the daughter of a politician, that he would never measure up, and that this was just temporary, just sex.

It wasn’t, and you know it. You know he knows it.

But fuck it –

If he wants to play games, you can play games. You’re the one who’s engaged, this is your house, your space. You’ll show him what he’s missing.

With that in mind, your personality shifts a bit, part in courtesy of the alcohol, part because of your rage. You do your best to intentionally play up your happiness in a room full of strangers, show him that he doesn’t affect you. Show him that he doesn’t matter, that he never did. You cling tight to the arm of your fiancé, being sure to pull out your best doe eyes, your innocent fuck me eyes that you know men can hardly resist. The eyes you know that drive him wild.

But there’s no point, he sees right through it.

Shit.

He knows you too well, better than all the rest. You let your guard down with him, trusted him, and now he knows all the signs – all the tells – he knows where your heart and mind truly rest, probably before you even do.

Shove it down. Shove it down. He doesn’t matter. You are engaged. This is the life you want.

It’s not.

You watch through the corner of your eye as he excuses himself from the conversation with the model and walks through the crowd, intentionally finding your eyes as he does. He slips up the stairs, away from public view.

Ignore him. Ignore him. Ignore him.

You can’t. You know you can’t.

Before you can even register what’s happening, you’re stepping out of the conversation you were never really in, letting your instincts guide you. You lift the hem of your dress, your heels teetering slightly as you make your way through the bustling, suffocating room.

Each step up the stairs is a battle between your mind and your heart, your brain screaming warnings while your emotions, your arousal, tug you forward. It’s always been this way – a magnetic pull, an invisible force drawing you in to him like a moth to a flame.

This is a mistake.

Don't do this.

Do this.

You want this.

You're engaged.

Stop thinking.

Climbing the final stairs, your heart pounding in your chest, you surrender to the emotions swirling inside you. Your brain protests, but your heart has already made its decision.

"Luci—" you timidly call out, but before you can finish, he reaches out in the darkness and pulls you into his chest. You let out a little oof of surprise, but soon find yourself settling into the embrace, his warmth enveloping you as his hips press tightly against yours.

He doesn't utter a word, simply holding you close, his body a comforting anchor in the dimly lit hallway. His hand rests at your waist, the other gently cradling the swell of your cheek as he gazes down at you. Despite the darkness obscuring your features, you can sense him drinking in every detail, every curve, the small details you’re not sure anyone notices anymore. He’s looking at you like he always has, like you’re the main character in every story he’s ever cared to read.

With a tighter grip, he guides you further down the hallway, away from the prying eyes at the top of the staircase. Your back eventually meets the cool surface of the wall, and he pauses there, his presence dominating the space, sucking up the air around you. His grip on your waist remains firm, as if he knows exactly what he wants and how to get it.

Under his touch, you feel yourself melting, surrendering to the intensity that is the two of you. There's a confidence in his demeanor, a certainty that courses through you. A live wire of energy that you’ve never felt with anyone but him. He knows exactly how to read you, how to anticipate your every desire, and you find yourself powerless to resist.

You’re suddenly acutely aware of the ring on your finger, and before you can protest, he’s already speaking.

“He’s not the man you think he is, sweetheart.” His words pierce you like a knife.

You don’t respond. What can you even say? He can already see your truth, your reality, written plainly across your face. He searches your face for hesitation, any sign that he’s crossed a line.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, and you can only nod. Yes, please.

This isn’t normal, this isn’t a thing that people frequently experience – it’s wrong, you’re engaged. Even if your fiancé is a grade-A asshole, you can still maintain your morals.

But the thing is – there’s something so electric about the two of you together, an undeniable force, a promise written into stone long before you even realized it.

The combination of your bodies, two halves of a whole, is the only excuse you can muster for why you’ve found yourself in your current predicament – pressed up against a wall, his broad frame pinning you into place, the weight of his gaze like a flame threatening to swallow you whole, turn you into ashes.

Even though it’s been years since he’s pressed his lips against yours, the weight of the pretty little rock on your left finger fades into distant memory, and he pulls you back to a different reality.

A reality where nothing else exists, a reality where your timelines converge, a reality hand-sculpted just for the two of you. One where he didn’t fuck up, the one with the happily ever after.

With your lips connected, it’s easy to let your mind fall silent.

And when he breaks for a bit of breath, your eyes connect once more and you can’t help the thought that crosses your mind.

What a pleasure it is to burn.

His hand finds its way to your thigh, and his fingers make their way to where you so desperately need them to be. Nipping at your neck, he whispers sweet praises into your ear, each word sending sparks of arousal that dance along your skin. It's carnal, primal, an undeniable biological reaction that leaves you practically dripping for him.

"You know me, better than anybody," he rasps against your skin, his words a seductive promise of something more. Planting a soft kiss on your collarbone, he leaves you reeling with need.

But just as you're about to respond, the telltale sound of creaking wood and heavy footsteps echo up the stairs, accompanied by the call of your name. Panic floods your senses as you realize who it is.

Fuck, shit – no, god damn it.

Lucien quickly steps away from you, and sneaks off into the bedroom adjacent to the hall.

Your fiancé appears at the top of the steps, his gaze sharp and knowing, as if he can sense the tension in the air. In that moment, you know you can't keep hiding, can't keep pretending that everything is fine.

“What are you doing up here?”

Fuck it, be bold.

“We need to talk.”

TO BE CONTINUED

If you like this, please consider a reblog (dm me if you want to be removed): @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @pedrostories @bastardmandennis @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings @josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @syd-djarin @survivingandenduring @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @javiscigarette @morallyinept @ro-nahime-things @gwendibleywrites @missladym1981 @auteurdelabre @morgaussy @yxtkiwiyxt ily.

#lucien flores #lucien flores smut #lucien flores fic #the uninvited #lucien flores x reader #lucien flores x you #pedrohub #pedro stories #pedro pascal characters #lucien x reader

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fionaswhvre · 6 months

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I'm convinced that the 9-1-1 writers never intended to make Buck & Eddie a thing, but they changed their minds very soon.

They probably wrote Eddie Diaz to be this macho guy who was gonna end up dating Buck's sister but instead he turned out to be the gayest character who only had heart eyes for Buck.

In the first episode, Eddie was supposed to be a threat to Buck but instead of two guys fighting to be the Alpha™, their gym confrontation turned out more like "you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid." And with the whole "you can have my back any day", we had Ryan & Oliver making heart eyes at each other and giggling and twirling their hair while saying this.

The writers tried not making them gay by making them call each other "brother", but that happened only two times : 1) Eddie's "you're a badass under pressure, brother" in 2×01 & Buck's "You know it, brother" in 2×10. After that, we never hear them say brother again. Because even that word couldn't tone down their flirtiness with each other.

When Chris was first introduced, he had interactions with the whole firefam, especially with Bobby and Chimney, even more than Buck. But in s3, the writers gave them the tsunami arc, thus sealing their bond of being a family. Since then, we see Chris only interacting with Buck in the 118.

Also when Eddie was shot, he was dating Ana, but we didn't even get to see her reaction or how she is comforting his son. Even the conversation of "what would've happened to Chris if Eddie actually died" took place with Buck, not Ana, who Eddie was literally dating.

When Buck was hit by the lightning there was no reason for the scene where Eddie tells Chim that he'll take over pumping Buck's heart. It is just a one second scene and Buck's heart was gonna start either way since he wasn't gonna be killed off, but still they made Eddie make the switch so that he can be the one to pump his heart back to life.

Bathena, Madney, Henren & DavidMichael all have scenes where one's life is threatened and the other is concerned/breaking down (Athena getting beat up, Bobby caught in a fire, Maddie in a hostage situation, Karen's lab getting blown up & David stuck in a hospital during a fire).

Buck and Eddie never get these scenes with their love interests. They only get it with each other (The shooting, tsunami, Eddie getting stuck underground).

At this point, the writers aren't even being subtle. They constantly put them in romantic tropes and parallel them with other main ships.

Bonus: They gave us Tarlos where one guy is Latino & the other is the son of the captain.

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley #buddie meta #buddie theories #911 theories #911 fox #buck x eddie

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bidisasterevankinard · 1 month

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Wip Wednesday

I'm trying to get back to writing and post this fic with tuck fwb and buddie endgame before 7x4. so here's new thing I've wrote just now

tagged by talented @theotherbuckley @puppyboybuckley @tizniz @diazsdimples <33333

He takes deep breath accusingly staring at deep browns.

“It’s you who made this conversation about Chris. And I-I said to myself ‘ok, I’m not here as the romantic partner, so it’s good Taylor is here because it was stupid to think Eddie might love me.’ ‘I really should move on’ was inside my mind on repeat when I saw Ana at your welcome home party. And I thought I did. For a really long time I believed I moved on from you, especially when I couldn't take anyone's grief about my death,” Eddie flinches as if Buck hit him.

“I-I couldn’t take even your grief, Eddie. Especially yours. Because I was on the other side not once, Ed...”

“YOU DON’T KNOW HOW IT FEELS TO SEE SOMEONE YOU LOVE IS DEAD. YOU DON’T KNOW HOW IT FUCKS YOU UP,” Eddie screams, but after a second his face pales.

Buck lost his voice for a moment, looking at his best friend as if Eddie hit him hard in his solar plexus. Buck wishes he did. It would hurt less that the deep knife Eddie drove into his heart with his words.

How dare this man tell him he doesn't know what it is like to believe someone, you love more than life, is dead? To him? When he was there all the time Eddie was close to death, but for Buck he was dead? Even if just for minutes but Buck lived in the world where Eddie was dead. Because no matter what he never gives up and tries to stay optimistic he still hardly believes the universe will let him be happy and have Eddie alive and always with him.

How dare Eddie say him he doesn’t know how it fucks you up?

@wikiangela @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @rogerzsteven @the-likesofus @thewolvesof1998 @underwater-ninja-13 @pirrusstuff @aspecbuddie @spaceprincessem @smilingbuckley @spotsandsocks @spagheddiediaz @sunshinediaz @devirnis @daffi-990 @dangerpronebuddie @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @heartshapedvows @honestlydarkprincess @hoodie-buck @honestlyeddie @hippolotamus @jesuisici33 @loserdiaz @cal-daisies-and-briars @barbiediaz @bigfootsmom @bekkachaos @buckleydiaz @buck-coded @buddierights @911onabc @steadfastsaturnsrings @mandzuking17 @monsterrae1 and anyone who wants to

#don't worry they will talk like normal people and they fuck later #it wasn't suppose to have so much feelings for angst but well it happened #fic: I'll cover his marks on your skin with mine #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #my wips #tuck

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georgeweasleyslostearhq · 10 months

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FRED AND GEORGE - HC

-THEM IN BED-

FRED

he's rough most of the time and soft when he wants to be

he's def a dom but LOVES seeing you on top

I feel like he would be into bondage, he loves to tie you up and just tease you for hours before actually doing anything

he doesn't mind doing it in public places, the idea of getting caught turns him on, unless it's one of his family members😬

^whether that's a broom closet, the quidditch changing rooms or an empty classroom. you done it on the common room couch once, very late at night because why not

he's call you things like:

Slut, my little whore, doll, bitch, love

he'd praise you when your orgasm, other than that you'd probably get downgraded, he doesn't mean it and he makes sure you know that after

his favourite position is probably cowgirl or just doing it standing up

he's into hair pulling, him or you, he loves.

his foreplay goes on forever

he doesn't mind eating you out, but he prefers other things.

that being said, he LIVES for you giving him head.

he's not that vocal in bed, i feel like you'd hear the occasional grunt or groan but other than that it's him just saying dirty things in your ear

he's amazing at what he does and never fails to please you in any way.

his aftercare is average, he'd get you in the shower to clean up and you would end up shagging in there

would sleep before you.

10/10

GEORGE

he's soft in the bedroom, he only ever goes rough when he's really angry or you ask

he prefers being the top but he loves it when you decide to top him

he's open to whatever you want to try but one thing he makes very clear is no ana/. he finds it disgusting and never wants to try it

he likes to do it in the safety of your beds, but you occasionally do it in an empty classroom when neither of you can wait. and you do like the thrill

he'd call you things like:

Love, sweetheart, baby, princess and when he's mad, slut

he praises you for everything, he makes sure you know you're making him feel good and he loves knowing he's making you feel good.

he whispers loving things into your ear, encouraging you in every little thing you do.

checks up on you quite a bit and would stop immediately if you said so

he's very passionate and it would be classified as making love, not shagging.

his favourite position is missionary, plain and simple, but it's all you two need really, close second is cowgirl, because he knows you enjoy it.

like Fred, he's in to hair pulling. simple as that.

his foreplay goes for as long as you need or want, he's just here to make you feel good✋

he loved eating you out, especially if you're in the mood and he's a bit tired, he'll just rest his head on your thigh and just pease you the way you ask. and he doesn't mind you giving him head, he likes looking down at you, smiling at the amount of him you can't fit in your mouth

he's pretty vocal, he definitely whimpers and moans when you do exactly what he likes, I wouldn't say he's overly vocal, but he's enough.

he is fucming amazing in bed, he would leave you wanting a LOT more. he's just so good and his monster penetrator would leave your legs shaking

his aftercare is elite, he bathes you and then cuddles you, pampering you with kisses all over while he rubs your body, massaging you.

would wait for you to fall asleep

11/10

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#hc #fred and george #fred weasley headcanons #george weasley headcanons #george weasley x fem #fred weasley x fem!reader #imagines #spicy stuff #x fem!reader #oliver phelps #james phelps #hp universe

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cameronspecial · 1 month

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Let Me Call In Reinforcements, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Summary: When Y/N's book signing looks like it is going to take longer than he thought, Rafe needs to call in some help.

A/N: Inspired by my own experience at getting to meet these amazing authors!!! It was amazing.

Masterlist

Going to a book signing can be a long process, especially when three of the most popular romance authors are in attendance. However, Rafe is determined to make sure Y/N gets all of her books signed and pictures with all of them without having to spend hours in line. The giant tote rests on his left shoulder while his other arm is wrapped around Y/N’s waist. His eyes survey where they are in line and he is satisfied that they are first. Good thing he paid someone to stand in line since the morning for them. “We are first. That means we can get in and out as soon as they open the door,” he informs her. She looks up at him with a giggle, “I mean we are certainly going to have good spots for the Q&A, but we’ll probably be here for a few hours. We have to stand in line three times for each author, Rafe.” His eyebrows raise and then his eyes narrow. “Hmm,” he thinks before pulling out his phone. “Let me call in reinforcements, Angel.” Her head tilts as she watches him type on his phone. He slides his phone back into his pocket and smiles at her. She shrugs, resting her head on his unburdened shoulder.

——— Thirty minutes later, a rowdy group of boys can be heard coming from behind Rafe and Y/N. She soon recognizes who the voices belong to and spins around to see them. Kelce, Topper, Henry, and Ryan are walking toward the couple. She steps away from her boyfriend. “What are you guys doing here?” she poses, going in to hug each boy. They may be frat boys, but they are always so kind to her. Henry, one of Rafe’s frat brothers, grins, “We are here to make sure you get to meet all of your book writer people without having to wait that long.” “Aww, you guys are so sweet. You don’t have to be here though,” she says. They all shake their heads. “We are more than happy to be here, Y/N. We all love you,” Kelce promises. “Aww, I love you guys too.” Rafe pulls his angel to his side again and presses a kiss to her temple, “Okay, here is the game plan. Y/N and I are going to sit at the front for the Q&A. Topper sits at the back right. Kelce, at the front right. Henry is at the front left while Ryan covers the back left.” He takes a breath to make sure they are following. “I have to be with Y/N so all of her Ana Huang books are signed, so we are going to go there first. We’ll hit Lauren Asher and finally, Elsie Silver. You guys have to make sure to be around the front but not too close because we won’t be able to be there. I am going to call you all closer to line-up time so we can coordinate so keep your phone ready.” At this point, an employee comes to the door and opens it. The boys dash into the room at top speed and settle down where they were told. ——— “Thank you for listening to the Q&A. Now, for the signing,” the commentator begins to note. Out of the corner of her eyes, Y/N can see Rafe slowly get up from his chair in a crouch and make his way to the back. She shakes her head at the lengths her boyfriend will go to for her; she does love him for it though. The commentator points toward the back, “Ana is set up in the middle. Elsie to my right and Lauren to my left. Have fun!” Y/N stands and sees that Rafe is already at the front of Ana’s line, so she takes her time walking to the back. Once she gets to him, he takes out the books he knows need to be signed and hands her a set. There is a little bit of a wait while the authors make their way to the back, so Y/N looks around the room. She spots Kelce and Henry third and seventh in the Elsie line while Topper and Ryan are fourth and tenth in the Lauren line. Eventually, Ana sits at her table and the signing begins.

She gets her books signed and her picture with Ana and the rest goes just as quickly. Thanks to the other boys, it only takes Y/N thirty minutes to get everything signed. They all make sure to take a photo at the photo booth and everyone heads to their cars. “So now that we are done with that, it’s time for the teasing,” Ryan voices. This makes Topper grin, “Right… like how Rafe knows the name of at least three romance authors.” The boys chuckle and Rafe can only shove Topper. “I’m not ashamed. You wanna know why? Because the only reason why I know them is because of my angel and I don’t see you guys in the same situation.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

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lavishl0ve · 8 months

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🩸 Johnny Slaughter x Fem Reader 🩸

!disclaimer!

I love Johnny and he low-key inspired me to write something. This is my first “fic” and is a decent length (lol), if y’all are interested in the full story please lmk!! (btw nothing spicy in this first part- sorry 😔) Thank and enjoy.💋💋

Part 1: The Cellar

Oh God, stay quiet… I silence my whimpers pushing my hand against my mouth as I watch the skinned face wearing man run around frantically. Each rev of his chainsaw had made me flinch. I slowly shift myself in the shadows hoping to avoid detection, the tall grass covering my view. The sky is painted with tones of tangerine complimented by flesh-colors. The longer time seems to pass the more I seem unable to move. I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut hoping to escape reality, the darkness only paints pictures in my head. Julie. Hanging on that meat hook in that red room. I suddenly feel a wetness dripping down my cheek. We didn't deserve any of this, especially not her and God knows where the others are. I just hope they're safe. The others. I have to do this for them, I have to escape. Adrenaline seems to rush through me, I peek my head above the grass searching around hoping for a clear shot. No sign of them. I slowly ascend and sneak towards what seems to be the closest exit. I dive back into a patch of grass as I hear the sound of the chainsaw approaching again. The sounds accompanied with female screams… Ana’s screams. My body makes its own decision and suddenly I flee from the grass patch running towards the gated fence, the sky darkening. Keep running Y/N. Just keep running. Tears blur my vision as the scream becomes distant for each pace I run. I shouldn't, I can't help doing so, only hoping to confirm reality. I look behind my shoulder, that man drilling the chainsaw through her abdomen, her blue tank top now red. Stained with her own blood. I run faster but can't help to look away. A loud snap erupts from beneath me; fire engulfs my right leg and I trip over. My ankle caught in some bone contraption it had cut deep, deep enough to see tissue. That man sensed the sound, revving up his stalled chainsaw, I look back panicking and quickening my pace to release myself. The pain is horrific. Blood drips into my shoes and I limp towards that gate. No. The faint symbol of a red padlock is tightened around the gate. I won't make it. I scream out in pain hoping for the slightest bit of hope. A deteriorating wooden barn. Maybe I can hide there. I shift my direction pulling my leg along with me as that man approaches. I ran through the large doors, the barn still in darkness. I looked behind again, that man hadn't been able to squeeze through the crawl space I shimmied through. I have distance. I’ll be okay. I face forward and crash into a hard surface. I fall back onto the floor and my vision blurs. Blood rushing to my brain, fumbling the noise around me, the chainsaw re-approaching and the laugh of a man in front of me, faint footsteps walk toward me, the orange hues of the sky paint out his features. My vision is blurry, I can only map out his sleeveless tank top, and his slicked hair…? He grips a knife in his right hand. He crouches down his arms wrapping around my waist. I groan out in pain. His hard chest instituted a throbbing headache, my head pounding. He leans forward toward my face.

“Oh, I’m keeping you.” The man growls.

Then with a effortless hurl he throws me over his shoulder. My sight goes foggy. I can’t lose consciousness now. Stay awake. With each step the man takes his shoulder digs deeper into my stomach. I can't seem to stay awake. No need to fight back anymore. This is my fate.

“S’okay, I got er’ boy.” The man says, “Put that chainsaw to use. Find the other one.”

A low moan had replied from the man with the chainsaw, like an agreement. Wait- the other one…? Leland! He’s still alive! I cry out, putting each ounce of strength into my punches trying to knock myself down from the man's shoulder.

“No need to fight me on this Darlin’. You’ll just make it harder for yourself.” He remarks.

I grunt still trying to fight back. I’ve done no damage to anything but myself. I feel my energy slip away along with my consciousness…

—------------------------------------------------------

I awaken to the cold beneath me, I sit on the wet concrete ground. My vision clears, I look above, my wrists had been tied to the wall. I pull against the rope hoping to loosen them. I feel my blood circulation cutting off, my hands are numbing. It’s too tight and I can't seem to make any wiggle room. I look around hoping for some sort of tool I can use. Nothing. The cell just contains a worn-out mattress. Just great. I crawl over on the mattress hoping it’ll bring me more comfort than the cold floor. It’s better…I guess. I sit in silence, my head against the stone wall for what feels like an eternity. I fumble with my shirt. My shirt- it’s different. Damn. That outfit I had on was my favorite. Now I’m stuck in this worn out oversized black shirt. Realization had hit me, they changed my clothes, had that man undressed me? Shivers ran through my veins; I disregard the thought. Suddenly a woman skips in front of my cell giggling whilst peeking through. I hadn’t heard her approach.

“Aww, you’se caught yourself an aw’fully purty one.” The woman remarked.

She dragged her razor blade along the iron bars making a scraping sound, hitting each bar. Laughing mockingly.

“Leave the girl alone Sissy.” The man approached.

The same man from earlier had stood next to the woman supposedly named Sissy. He jumbled his keys, standing in front of the lock for the cellar.

“Ain’tcha got things to do??” The man says sternly.

“You ain’t no fun Johnny.” She replies, clicking her tongue and walking away.

Johnny inserts the key into the lock, twisting it and sliding the cell door open. Then closes it behind him. I find myself backing against the corner, the cold shooting through my spine once my bottom contacts with the cold floor again. Johnny turns around, walks over toward the mattress and sits down, his arms resting on his knees. I sat a few inches away from him. Completely defenseless. He shifts his head toward the left a bit, enough only so he could see me. I stare down at the ground avoiding eye contact. He analyzes me for a while. Complete silence.

“You can look at me y’know?” He breaks the silence.

I feel tears dwelling in my eyes, “What do you want?”

“Ain’t no need to be cryin’ sweetheart, ‘m not gonna hurt ya’...” He trails off.

He removes some sort of compact tin from his jean pocket, following a roll of gauze...? He places them on the mattress and gestures to my leg where I’d been caught. It takes me a moment to realize what he’s motioning towards. I look down and realize my leg has been wrapped up. I gasp slightly, surprised he wouldn't have just let me rot. I scoot forward slowly allowing him to have access to my ankle, I watch slowly as he unwraps the bandage trying to see the damage that was done. I hiss once the cold air touches the wound.

“Those damn traps he be makin’,” he laughs shaking his head, “Work a lil’ too well.”

Johnny then grabs the tin container from his side, it contains some sort of topical cream. He rubs two fingers into the paste and rubs it over the wound.

“Ah-” I groan in pain. The topical stinging my cut.

“You’se all right sweetheart.” He reassures me.

I shut my eyes, furrowing my brows waiting for the stinging to be over. I can feel the gauze wrapping lightly around my ankle. For a man that had brought me and held me captive in their basement Johnny's surprisingly gentle. I can't tell why but, I find myself ease around him a bit.

“Johnny-” I speak,

He looks up at me inquisitive, like I said something wrong. He raises his eyebrows, waiting.

“...why are you helping me?”

He chuckles to himself; a piece of his hair drops in front of his face.

“Can’t have our food spoiled now, can we?” He looks up.

My eyes widen at his response, I try and jerk my leg away, but his grip stays firm, his calloused hands keeping me from backing away.

“I was jokin’.”

He finishes tying up the gauze and rises to his feet. He leaves, re-locking the cell door. And then again, I’m left in the cell waiting, thinking. I try to stand seeing where I am, yet can’t reach the front of the cell, my wrists beginning to burn from all the tugging on the rope. I stop, throwing myself on the rough mattress. My dreams ought to be better than this place, right?

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#johnny tcm #tcm #johnny x reader #johnny slaughter #johnny slaughter x reader #tcm x reader #leland tcm #tcm game #johnny sawyer #johnny sawyer x reader #fanfic #x reader #julie tcm #ana tcm

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