#i gotta stop with the fives and echo

[lxkeee]

MY LOVE, IS MINE ALL MINE

—PART FIVE

pairing: lucifer morningstar x fallen angel! fem! reader

fandom: hazbin hotel

genre: fluff

notes: gotta keep writing to feed the simps.

PART ONE | PART FOUR | PART SIX

Lucifer sat in his office chair, pen on one hand as he finally did the paperwork that he was procrastinating on for... A few months now, but anyways.

He was deep in thought, the fountain pen fluidly moving along with his hand as he signed the documents. Mind wandering, dissociating even.

He has a lot to think about considering that the next extermination is coming in a few days.

His eyes landed on his right hand, ring finger bare of any rings. He smiled proudly to himself, it took some work to actually remove his wedding ring and he finally did, his divorce doesn't hurt as much as it used to be. He has a lot to work on, his heart, his mind, and his actions.

He's happy that he stopped staying stuck in the past and now, he's ready to move forward. He has let go of Lilith, as the woman wanted. But he'll never forget [y/n], despite the distance and lack of communication, he still thinks of her as his best friend and he's glad she never stopped thinking of him too.

Lucifer sighs, a small smile on his face. Smiling at the thought of her. His hand once again moved gracefully along the paper, ink rolling off the tip of the pen as he signed his signature.

He misses [y/n], he longs to hug her so much.

Knock, knock.

He flinches at the sound of the front door being knocked, the sounds echoing off the castle walls. He lives alone after all, so the palace is deathly silent.

Lucifer groans, rolling his eyes.

It's probably another solicitor or another sinner wanting to have an audience with him.

Choosing to ignore it and continue with his work.

Knock, knock, knock.

There it is again, the annoying sound of someone knocking on his front door.

He exhaled, continuing his work.

They'll go away if I ignore them, just like always.

He mutters to himself, huffing in annoyance as he works.

[y/n] huffs to herself, crossing her arms around her chest. She's been knocking for a few minutes now and nobody answered.

I wonder if he's home?

She thought, standing outside the door. Hand running over the skirt of her light blue dress.

She waits for a few minutes, taking a deep breath. Trying to calm down her beating heart. Mentally practicing what she wants to say to him when she sees him.

Bringing her hand back up, forming into a tight knuckle. She knocked once more.

Knock, knock, knock.

It took so much patience for him not to break the fountain pen on his hand. Lucifer gently brought down the pen on to his table. Bringing both his hands towards his mouth and nose as he exhaled exasperatedly. Closing his eyes, eye twitching a little.

I stand corrected, this sinner is persistent.

Taking a deep breath, he finally stood up from his chair, grumbling as he left his office. Going down the stairs.

Finally arriving at the front door of his, fixing his clothes to look presentable to whoever is at the other side. Raising his guard up as he doesn't trust other sinners.

Finally opening the door, eyes closed in annoyance. “Yeah, yeah. Who's there...” his voice died down when he opened his eyes again to see a familiar angel standing on his doorway, [y/n] looking at him awkwardly, waving her hand at him shyly.

Did he go insane without realizing?

[y/n] is standing on his doorway wearing a cute light blue short dress that reaches beneath her knees, halo no longer on her head but he can tell she used it as an accessory based on the golden bracelet on her wrist. She looked as beautiful as the day he last saw her. Though, he had a tint of worry as he noticed the bandages on her arms and knees. What happened to her?

Is this a hallucination?

“[y/n]...?” he asked hesitantly, afraid that she'll disappear and afraid she's just a fragment of his imagination.

[y/n] smiled, heart beating loudly against her chest. Lucifer stood in front of her. The white suit with red accents really fits him, he's just as beautiful as she last saw him, more even.

He is really here.../She is really here...

Finally deciding to break the silence between them, [y/n] smiled at him, “It has been awhile, Lucifer.”

Her voice was enough to snap him from his thoughts and without thinking, he leaped into her arms and hugged her. Tears finally streaming down his pale cheeks. The action causing both of them to fall into the floor.

The warmth of his embrace around her was also enough for [y/n] to silently cry. She misses him so much, so many years spent without him made her incredibly so lonely.

Lucifer grips into her waist, burying his face at the crook of her neck as he sobbed.

Lucifer wonders if this was a dream at first but he was able to inhale the familiar perfume she always wore and it was enough to make him cry even more.

It felt like the universe finally listened to his pleas. He was just thinking that he misses her so much a few minutes ago and then suddenly she's in his door step.

“[y/n].... You're really here... Wait...” his eyes widened as he finally removed himself from her warm embrace, holding her arms gently.

“Why are you here...?” he asked softly, voice hoarse from crying. [Y/n] wiped her eyes with her hand but he stopped her as Lucifer summoned a clean handkerchief and gently wiped the tears off her cheeks.

[y/n] smiled weakly, “I fell.” she says with a small giggle. Lucifer deadpans, eyes blinking not simultaneously. He stood up and offered a hand to her to help her stand in which she gladly accepted.

“What do you mean you fell? When?” he asked worriedly, [y/n] smiled softly as she placed a hand over his cheek. Thumb running over the red circle on his cheek adoringly.

“I have a lot to tell you but I fell... A few days ago... Charlie found me and she treated me during it all.” [y/n] explained softly, his eyes widening. Why didn't Charlie tell him?

[y/n] can practically hear the question based on his facial expression, she smiles. “Don't get mad at Charlie, I asked her not to tell you...” she says, avoiding eye contact.

He frowns, leaning towards her so he cups her cheeks, his other hand on her chin. He tilts her head so she's finally looking at him.

“Why...? I... I could've helped you...” he asked, voice trembling. Guilty for not being there for her in her most time of need. [Y/n] gently removed his hands from her face, squeezing it assuringly.

“Because I don't want our reunion to be a sad one, I can't bear to see you so sad and I don't want you to see how bad my situation was...” she explained softly, her thumb rubbing circles in his hand. He can only imagine what happened to her based on her injuries. She's right, he might not function properly if he saw her so injured.

Lucifer sighs, shoulders dropping as he understands her explanation. But still, he wished he could've helped her more.

“But hey, I'm here now and there's a lot that we needed to catch up on. Don't you think?” [y/n] says with a giggle, a small smile on her face. Lucifer could feel his cheeks burning up as he looked at her beautiful smiling face.

Lucifer closes his eyes as a grin finally finds its way to his handsome face, “You're right, you got a lot of explanation to do.” he says, offering his hand to her in which she accepted. He pulls her inside the palace, finally closing the door behind them.

Currently, the two are in his room just catching up with one another. Lucifer's hands shined a golden glow over her arms, his angelic powers helping her heal. He listened intently as [y/n] explained what happened to her.

His heart thumped loudly against his chest as he listened how she defended hell and how she finally got under Sera's skin that led to her fall from grace.

“You really did that...?” he asked softly, his hand working gently with her arm as he unwrapped the bandages around her arm. Her arm finally healed after helping her. [Y/n] smiled softly and nodded, “I made a promise to help Charlie and Sera hid the yearly cleansing from the other angels. It was revealed during Charlie's meeting and I was mad.” [y/n] explained to him, his gentle eyes looking up at her as he healed her arm. “I said some things to her and got her mad and I was placed in a trial in which I ended up guilty.”

Lucifer frowns, softly placing down her hand onto her lap. “I wished I was there to help you.” he says softly to her and [y/n] smiled and patted his head.

“It's alright, what's done is done. What matters the most is that I'm here now...” she says, bringing her hand up to cup his cheeks.

“Yeah... But, I hope you know that I appreciate what you did for hell...” he says, nuzzling his face against the palm of her hand. Eyes half-lidded as he looked at her.

“I know and I'll do it again. I believe that the sinners deserve a second chance.” she says, her eyes landing on the many piles of rubber ducks in his room.

“On the sidenote, I see you haven't gotten over your love for ducks.” [y/n] giggles, his cheeks exploding into a bright shade of red as he felt a little embarrassed.

“I can't help it. They're just so cute.” he says with a small pout making [y/n] laugh softly.

“Don't be embarrassed about it, I'm just glad you haven't changed much.” she says smiling at him.

His eyes widened slightly and then he smiled, “I am glad that you haven't changed too.”

[y/n] smiles, turning her head to look around his room. Seeing the portraits of his family on the wall, they looked so happy. She's a little jealous.

“You and Lilith huh?” she teases him slightly, Lucifer flinches slightly and avoids her gaze. “Well... Used to, we've divorced each other seven years ago.” he says, finally looking at her.

[y/n]'s eyes widened, a frown on her face. She felt guilty bringing the topic up. “Oh... I didn't know, I'm sorry.” she says softly, her voice held a tone of regret. Lucifer smiled and shook his head, “Don't be, it was for the best.” he explained, “We just stopped loving each other, that's all.”

“How about we change the topic?” he suggested with a smile and [y/n] nodded, “Since you're here now... Do you plan to stay at the hotel or here with me?” he asked softly to her.

[y/n] blushes softly, the idea of being alone with Lucifer in a large palace seems so.... Intimate. Lucifer's cheeks also burned slightly as he realized what he just asked.

“Staying here with you? Won't I disturb you from your work?” she asked hesitantly, Lucifer shakes his head no.

“No, no, no... You would never be a disturbance to me [n/n]... I would be glad if you stayed here...” he spoke so softly, eyes pleading for her to accept.

[y/n] smiles, she can practically read him like a book. Despite being years apart, their connection never faded.

“Alright, since you looked like you're begging me to stay.” she giggled softly, looking at him with so much fondness.

Lucifer can only stare at her face, she's looking at him like he's the most beautiful being in the universe.

Don't look at me like that, I don't want to fall too fast.

Lucifer blushes slightly, clearing his throat. “I just miss you, that's all.” he says, avoiding her gaze making her chuckle, “I've missed you too.” she says softly.

“I am really happy to see you again, it's been so long.” he whispers, wrapping his arms around her. “I am so happy to be back in your arms...” she murmurs back to him. Lacing her hand with his with him squeezing her hand gently in return.

They have a lot of catching up to do, a lot of feelings to uncover.

END NOTES: the handholding before marriage finally happened lmfaoo 😭 also imma try not to make their relationship fast paced okay, awkward friends to lovers idk. This chapter feels shorter than usual, meh.

TAGLIST I:

@selvyyr @leo4242564 @blushhpeachh @lunanight1021 @dvc4 @nehy019 @lu-ferri12 @lilteamushroom @froggybich @eddiemunson4ever @who-let-me-write-this @gurutan27 @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @hcneyiced @valerie-36 @jovialcat123 @b0nn1e @raeinn @wally-darling-hyperfixation @faefanatic @trashbin-nie @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @luleck @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @hxzbinwrites @snoozewritezz @juskonutoh @mayhimouto513 @hcneyiced @koirb @viylikescats @ren-ren23 @kouyoumarryme @dou-dou @thatsquitepoggers

[slut4daviii]

character(s): g.tomioka

pt(s): 02/02

cw: (i think) praise, slight marathon sex, overstimulation

summary:

a/n: this had plot. i swear. and I’m writing this on five frappes, three cups of coffee, and 30 mins of sleep so……

title: birthday/anniversary sex

w/c: 1300+

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Giyuu squirmed, his back pressed firmly against his porcelain sink in a sickly sweet manner, pleasure beginning to overlap pain.

he swallowed a gasp, bringing his palm between his teeth to muffle his own… indecent noises. “ffhugk!! s—stop t—teasing… please.”

a chuckled reverberated from above him, followed by a slick noise that made his leg twitch in anticipation. they shook lightly, adding to the overflowing strain in his muscles. he gripped your bicep, nails digging inward to keep himself from falling. “[n—name]!!”

you chuckled, moving your fingers further apart to insert a third, “yes, Mr. Tomioka?”

his eyes rolled slightly, walls tightening around you, almost as if he didn’t want you to move. as if… he wanted you inside of him forever; in front of his husband, in public, with his family, at work, everywhere.

you smiled at him, pulling your fingers to his rim, circling the pulsating muscle before lightly tapping your fingers against it.

his legs again faltered, shaking as his fingers left scarlet streaks lining your back. “p—please…! I need you, need your cock— mfmgh… mmm…”

you kissed him, wrapping both hands around his lower back to left him from the sink. he quickly responded, wrapping his trembling legs against your waist, grinding harshly against your still covered dick.

you smirked into the kiss, pressing against him for a second before pulling away. he reacted quickly, bringing his hips down to meet yours, sending electricity flying gracefully between the two of you.

you broke the kiss, panting lightly. “Giyuu,” he arched his back, dick rubbing between your abs as copious amounts of pre-cum leaked from his tip. “aw, c’mon, you called me, remember?” you chuckled, biting his lip before continuing, “c’mon Giyuu, I know you want it…”

he nodded desperately, dick twitching violently. you looked at him, drinking each one of his features — he was so beautiful. how could his husband give up any of this? “god, you’re so fuckin’ pretty.” he blushed, turning the same color as his tip.

“you know how to really thank me?” you paused, wrapping a hand around his tip, “cum.” at your tone, Giyuu panted, thrusting into your palm endlessly—

“I—I can’t! ne… need your co—cock! please!”

“you can do it. c’mon, Giyuu, show me how much you want it.”

you undid your belt, reaching into your pants to roughly jerk yourself off, rolling your neck at the instant pleasure. “fffuckk! Giyuu! I wanna show you all the things your husband can’t, but… you gotta cum for me.”

Giyuu gulped, your tip, not even fully erect was already touching his back. he felt pleasure run along his veins, a burning sensation at the base of his dick.

placing his face into your neck, he inhaled your scent, the aroma slightly musky from your previous work on his other sink. his eyes almost completely disappeared into his head, hips thrusting warmly against your abdomen.

“yeah, you got it… cum for me.”

at the praise, Giyuu moaned shamelessly, the borderline screams echoing through his house and into the neighbors. it was obvious that he’d abandoned all shame long ago, only worried about his, and your, pleasure.

he bit his tongue, toes curling as he felt your tip enter his body— “[name]!”

you, reaching disparity, slammed him down, your tip embedding itself into his womb. you moaned into his shoulder, feeling utterly complete as his warmth slowly surrounded you.

Giyuu was blissed out, body unable to comprehend any other sensation but the thick ropes of semen erupting from his quickly emptying tip. it was amazing. after a month of masturbating to your image, he finally had you. and it was better than anything he could’ve ever imagined.

he was still cumming, eyes blank with pleasure as you began moving him along your dick— the feeling of your tip, even at his entrance, still burning in his stomach.

you we’re holding onto what little composure you had, shallowly thrusting into him to keep yourself grounded, not wanting to… ruin him.

every thrust, every glimpse of contact, every second of Giyuu’s walls pulling you back in, swallowing every inch of your cock so graciously… it did something to you. pulling you further and further into his web of sex, love, and desire.

“mmmhh…”

even you were speechless. unable to form sentences, let alone, think about anything else in that moment. “fuhgggkk…”

Giyuu shuddered with pleasure, limp in your arms as he fell from grace. his breathing was rigid, faltering flat of what it should’ve been. his throat was parched, coaxed in a layer of invisible sawdust. “[n—name]?”

you’d stopped moving, breathing quickly to stop your still approaching orgasm. back against the wall, he placed his hands on your biceps, both trapping him against you. he moved slightly, walls again clenching around every inch of your dick. “n—nghm…”

that was the last straw.

the last whim of patience in you.

your final whim.

you moved your hands, one coming to Giyuu’s lower back while the other moved to lift his thigh above your shoulder, giving you better access to his body.

“[n—name]…? what’re—AHNK!! nmgh!! fuhhh—ck!! [n…name]!! sl—slow do—wn!… ghmhnn…”

you only panted, your eyes shut closed with pleasure— head tilting back as your orgasm quickly climbed towards its boiling point.

Giyuu screamed around your cock, hands sliding down the wall as you continued to slam into his swollen hole, hands gripping his soft, milky white thighs. oh… his thighs. you were in love.

“nghk! s..so— oh my god… so good! you—your… mgh!! [name]!! plea—se!! keep— please keep g—ghouing!”

oh, you were falling in love. his moans, his thighs, his tearful eyes that seemed to gleam under the flourishing florescent lights.

he was so perfect.

so so perfect.

you pressed closer to him, your tip throbbing endlessly. “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you pulled out, lifting Giyuu’s other leg, “you— ngk, fuck!” your tip was beyond sensitive, flushing a shade deeper before you plunged back into him, biting his neck at the same time.

your orgasm rang through your entire body, a deep groan echoing around you before a high-pitched moan from both you and Giyuu belting out. your legs shook lightly, head tilted back to another angle. “fhhuggk, Giyuu!!”

he also came, legs endlessly shakin on your shoulders, “[n—name]!”

“I love you.”

you slightly hesitated, looking down at the blissed out male, smiling at him, “happy anniversary, baby.”

[megalony]

My Boys

This is an Evan x Eddie x Reader imagine I came up with, I hope you all like it and my requests are always open, I'm trying to work my way through the amazing ideas everyone is sending in.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @topguncultleader @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989

911 Masterlist

Summary: When (Y/n) isn't well, Evan stays home to look after her. But it turns into a race to get her to the hospital before she gives birth in the car.

Enjoy.

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"Come on, as if you have to ask what I'll have," A grin pulled at Evan's lips and he downed the last dregs of coffee before he leaned over and switched the tv off. He didn't know why he turned in on in the first place, probably out of habit because he had only watched five minutes of the news and now it was time to leave.

Evan had the skill of being able to down his first morning coffee in less than three minutes and he needed a coffee to wake himself up, especially on the days when he was driving to work. If he and Eddie were on the same shift schedule and did early shifts, Eddie was the one who always drove to work. Evan was never awake and alert enough in the mornings. He was hyperactive at night and tired as Hell in the morning.

With his empty cup in one hand and the other holding his phone to his ear, Evan strolled out of the living room towards the kitchen.

"Chris, you ready?" He called over his shoulder as he put his cup down on the counter and looked around.

He and Eddie needed to drop Chris off at school on their way to work and if they didn't move soon, they would be late.

"I'm still here," He replied sassily into the phone. Hen had called. She was graciously going on a breakfast run this morning to fuel everyone up and she was ringing round to take orders for their favourite breakfast place.

Evan paused just as he was about to list off what he and Eddie would have. He lifted his head and turned to look down the hallway near the bedrooms, locking his eyes on (Y/n).

She was the only one who didn't have to be up early this morning. The boys were at work and Chris was heading off to school, (Y/n) on the other hand, was on maternity leave from work. She didn't have to be up for anything and Evan had left her in bed after he and Eddie got up. What worried him was the way she was stumbling out of their bedroom, half hunched over like she was about to fall.

He watched her burst into the bathroom, unable to stop and turn the light on before the horrid sound of her throwing up drifted through the house and echoed back to Evan. Oh dear. That wasn't a good sign.

"I'll call you back in five, I gotta go." He didn't wait for a response before he ended the call, tossed his phone on the side and jogged towards the bathroom. "Babe? Baby, you okay?"

Evan flicked the light on and pushed the door open, leaning his weight onto the door frame as a sigh pushed past his lips. His arms folded over his chest and he watched with a grimace as (Y/n) threw up again.

She had her legs curled beneath her in an awkward sitting position, her feet slumped near the shower mat behind her. And her arms were draped around the back of the toilet with her head slumped forward onto her forearm to stop her head hanging in the toilet. Her upper body was slumped over and a subtle tremble had taken over her frame that was quaking back and forth as she tried to take big, panting breaths.

If Evan didn't know any better he would have thought she had fainted, but her weak groan told him she was still awake.

"Okay baby, come here." He pushed off the door frame and moved to crouch down beside her, arching his knees outwards so his legs were curved around her frame with her in between his thighs. "Talk to me,"

He was careful when he pulled (Y/n) up so he could look at her and he tried to hold her chin between his fingers. But their eyes barely met before (Y/n) pulled her chin out of his grip and bent down again to hurl into the toilet. The back of her throat burned and she coughed, trying her best not to choke as she threw up last night's tea and the little fluids she had drank during the night.

(Y/n) felt pitiful when she cried and gasped for breath, wiping her eyes on her arm but it didn't make her feel any better and she could feel more tears replacing them anyway.

"Eddie!" Evan hollered his partner's name which caused (Y/n) to shake her head and groan. She didn't want to make either of the boys late. They all had places to be and she would be alright once she got back into bed. She didn't need to worry them and they didn't have to get Eddie in here to check her over and make a fuss.

She could feel Evan's lips pressing against her bare shoulder and his hands slowly rubbed up and down her arms. His hum and shushes vibrated against her skin and made her shiver and when Evan pulled her back and let her flop against his chest, she tried to smile and look up at him. They both knew her smile did nothing to calm him down, he raised his brow as if asking if that was all she could manage.

"I- I feel better now,"

"That's not exactly comforting, babe." Evan sighed before he leaned his arm over to flush the toilet. He cared a lot that she had thrown up last night's tea because it meant she didn't have anything left in her system. She was eight months pregnant, the last thing she needed was to be getting ill like this. Morning sickness had hit her hard in this pregnancy and she had only just shaken that off two months ago.

If she had some sort of stomach bug or sickness and was throwing up again, they would be back down the road of her getting dehydrated and lacking nutrients and the energy she needed. And Evan wasn't ready to have a repeat of those first few months with him and Eddie finding her passed out in the bathroom or on the verge of collapsing. Evan couldn't count the times they had to speed her down to the hospital due to dehydration.

"Everything… okay in here?" Eddie's lips pulled into a frown and he rose a brow when he looked between his two partners.

What on Earth were they doing sitting on the bathroom floor?

(Y/n) dragged her fingers through her hair, pushing the strands away from her face that she turned to tuck into the crook of Evan's neck. She tried to smile into his skin when she felt his hands continue to smooth up and down her arms.

"She's not well, she's been sick," Evan tilted his head back to look up at Eddie whose jaw clenched as his lips pressed together tightly and he shook his head.

Within a second, Eddie knelt down on (Y/n)'s other side and leaned over her. He gently took her chin between his finger and thumb and tilted her head up while his other hand pressed against her forehead. She was starting to burn up. He moved his hand to her neck and looked at his watch as he counted her pulse which was a little high but not too alarming right now.

"You're burning up, you need to go back to bed."

"I will."

(Y/n) tilted her head back on Evan's shoulder while her hand flopped around to rest on Eddie's thigh. When Eddie stared down at her with that dark, infectious, if possessive look, (Y/n) could have melted on the spot if she didn't feel so icky and uneasy. She loved that little flicker in his eyes and the way he would curve his lips up at one side in a very dark way.

"Who's staying?" Eddie looked over (Y/n) at Evan, both men having the same thought in mind while (Y/n) shook her head, her blushing lips parting in opposition.

"No. You're both going to work," (Y/n) looked between the boys but they weren't looking at her, they seemed to be having a silent debate between themselves. When her words didn't seem to gain their attention, (Y/n) brushed her nose against Evan's neck and tried to kiss the junction beneath his jaw that acted as a button to make him shudder and curse at her.

Neither of them needed to take another day off to stay and watch over her. They were both on shift today and that was where they needed to be; they would both be on annual leave in two weeks anyway ready for when the baby was born. That had been a hard blow to the team, learning that Eddie and Evan were going to be off for a while at the same time, leaving them short handed.

They had both taken enough days off as it was when (Y/n) was sick at the start of the pregnancy. She felt bad enough when she collapsed in the bathroom and Eddie had to call Evan and explain why they were at the doctors and why he wasn't on shift.

"I'll call Bobby and tell him I'm not going in, you go and take Chris." Evan had no problem taking the day off to be with (Y/n). They all knew someone needed to stay with her and make sure she was alright, leaving her home alone when she wasn't well was not something either of them wanted to do.

"Evan-"

"He's staying with you, that's final. Any changes, ring me, otherwise I'll see you both tomorrow afternoon."

(Y/n) huffed but stayed silent, there was nothing she could say to either of them that would change their minds about this. Her lips curved into a small smile when Eddie pulled her closer and pecked her lips. He pushed up to his feet and held his arms out towards her. He had to go, but not before he made sure (Y/n) was safely back in bed.

She let Eddie take her hands while Evan held her hips and they eased her up between them, keeping hold of her when she wobbled.

Evan's arms curved around her middle and his hands pressed against her lower stomach while his elbows squeezed into her sides and his lips pressed to the back of her head. Evan could feel that she was still shaking in his arms and he didn't want to let go and have her stumble or fall.

Eddie whispered a quiet 'I love you' against her temple that he kissed before he moved round her and proceeded to kiss Evan's cheek. He could hear Chris clattering around in the kitchen, he had to get him to school.

Deep down they both knew she was in no fit state to stay home alone and mull about the house to try and settle her stomach. And Evan didn't trust her to tell him or Eddie if she got worse. He needed to stay and look after her and check that she was going to eat and drink without throwing up again. She needed fluids in her system.

There was no way Evan was about to leave when she was in this state, he would ring Bobby soon and tell him he wasn't going in today.

A small smile flooded Evan's face as they walked down the hallway as if they were conjoined. But the smile faded when they got near their bedroom and (Y/n) suddenly stopped. Evan's knees bumped into the back of her legs and he jolted to a stop as (Y/n) clamped her hands down on his wrists as her knees buckled.

"Going dizzy,"

(Y/n) snapped her eyes closed and tilted her chin down into her chest to try and relieve the air bubbling up in her head. She felt like all the blood was draining from her head and static burst in her ears.

"Eddie! Fuck- okay, okay down we go baby."

Slowly, Evan lowered them both down until he was kneeling on the floor and eased (Y/n) down with him until she was awkwardly sat between his thighs with her back leant up against his chest. His chin perched on her shoulder so he could kiss her cheek as he moved his arms around.

"Go get your shoes on," Eddie nudged Chris towards the front door before he spun on his heels and backtracked down the hall to get to them. "Alright, let's get you in bed mi amor,"

They gently eased (Y/n) up between them, keeping hold of an arm each as they tried to keep her upright when her knees started to tremble. It was a relief that they had a bungalow and not a house with stairs, that would have been a lot more effort to get (Y/n) up the stairs.

Eddie didn't like the way that when they eased (Y/n) down on the bed, she flopped back immediately. She curled up on her side and brought her knees up to her stomach. Her eyes were already closed and she buried her face in the pillow, looking like she was half dazed, on the verge of sleep.

"If she gets any worse call the doctor."

***

(Y/n) tiredly nuzzled her face into Evan's chest, burying her face into his hoodie as she wedged herself further into his side. Her arm moved to drape over his middle while she felt Evan's arm tighten around her side. His large hand splayed out on her stomach and he grinned when he slipped his cold hand beneath her shirt and felt her squirm and gasp into his chest.

"What time is it?" She grumbled quietly, brushing her nose into the ruffle of his jumper.

"Half one. Are you gonna try and eat something?" Evan scratched the back of his head, pushing back on his arm that was pinned between his head and the headrest. He ruffled the hood on his hoodie and dragged it down from covering his head.

"Hm," She wasn't hungry but she knew Evan would start to start to fuss like a mother hen and panic if she didn't eat anything soon. She hadn't eaten yet, she was letting her stomach settle after being sick this morning. Most of the day had been spent in bed with Evan watching tv and (Y/n) sleeping. And she really didn't want Evan to ring and report back to Eddie that she wasn't getting much better or they would both comandeer her to the doctor.

"Good," He kissed the top of her head before he slowly eased from beneath her and sat up, stretching his arms above his head.

He had managed to get (Y/n) to drink two glasses of juice so far and that was an achievement.

When Evan headed down the hall into the kitchen, (Y/n) slowly sat up and clicked her spine into place. She felt better than this morning when she stood up and pulled Evan's shirt back down so it covered her thighs since she wasn't wearing bottoms.

Her lips curved into a tired smile and she looked across to the kitchen as she headed past the living room. Evan was wearing matching grey joggers and a hoodie but it was an old one, it looked like it barely fit him now and every time he moved an arm, he flexed a bicep. His hair was ruffled with curls standing up on end in each direction and the way he parted his lips just a little when he was concentrating looked sweet.

"What are you doing?"

She didn't realise she had been staring until she looked up and Evan was staring at her. He had raised brows and a smirk as he pushed a glass of juice across the counter towards her.

"I thought we were eating?" Her eyes fell to the counter and she grabbed the stool, trying to be graceful but she knew she didn't look it when she slowly eased herself up onto the stool.

"Yes, but you should be resting."

"I am, I'm sat down,"

When Evan passed her to go to the fridge, (Y/n) reached her arms out and curved them around Evan's arm so she could reel him into her chest. He turned round, a look of surprise on his face but he wasn't complaining. He cupped her face and tilted her head up, brushing his thumbs near her lips before he leaned down to kiss her. She felt his teeth nip at her lower lip and she smiled, grazing her fingers against his neck to make him growl.

"You're still burning up," He commented quietly as he pressed a kiss to her temple. "Come on, baby." Evan helped her down from the stool and reached over for the plates he had gotten ready.

(Y/n) cosied herself up into Evan's side when they sat down on the sofa for a change. Her arm curled around his bicep and she leaned her cheek against his upper arm, staring down at the sandwich on her plate. She didn't feel so hungry now she was looking at food. Her stomach was churning at the sight of food and she could feel her throat tightening, but she needed to try.

She was only going to make herself feel worse if she didn't eat anything and she needed to try and look after her and the baby.

"You okay?" Evan had demolished most of his sandwich while (Y/n) seemed to have taken one bite of hers which she was staring at woefully.

"I'm not hungry,"

"Can you eat half of it, please? For me?" Concern dripped from Evan's voice as he looked down at (Y/n) and kissed the top of her head. If she had just a few more bites he would feel better. At this rate, Evan knew he was going to be going to work tomorrow and Eddie would be the one taking the day off to stay with (Y/n). One of them would be staying with her if she didn't get any better soon.

A small groan burned at the back of (Y/n)'s throat and she put the plate down on the coffee table before she tucked herself back into Evan's side. He could feel her trying to take steady breaths that fanned through his sleeve. She had eaten about four bites of her sandwich which was something, but it still wasn't good.

"Stay there a minute," Evan jogged off to the kitchen and when he returned, he handed her a milkshake. "Try one of my protein shakes. I'd feel a lot better if you could keep something like this down."

Evan and Eddie had a lot of protein shakes at the station in case they didn't have much time for food or if they felt run down. They were great for helping when they were training in the gym and on days off. Evan would stop worrying so much if (Y/n) managed to drink one and keep it down because it was full of vitamins and proteins and it was as good as a blended smoothie. It would mean she had something in her and it would stop her from feeling so run down and sick.

"Thank you," He spoke quietly against the top of her head when (Y/n) finished the drink.

He propped his feet up on the coffee table and slouched down and a grin spread across Evan's lips when he felt (Y/n) moving his hand. She curved his arm so it was draped across her chest with his palm pressed against her lower stomach. Her head tucked up against his arm and she could feel adrenaline coursing through her stomach when Evan slowly began to glide his hand up and down her stomach.

***

"Buck? It's two in the morning… what's going on? Are you okay?" Eddie rummaged a hand through his hair as he pushed himself to sit up in the cot bed. His elbows fell down to rest on his knees and his shoulders hunched over as his head hung down.

He had barely gotten an hour's sleep before his phone started to ring. Their shift today seemed to be never-ending and Eddie thought a little sleep might perk him up and get him through the next few hours before he could go home.

So why was Evan ringing him?

"No, (Y/n)'s going into labour- fuck, her water's already broke. You gotta come home!"

How had she gone from being sick this morning to being in labour during the night? She didn't look like she was about to go into labour when Eddie assessed her this morning. She was just sick. But they were eight months along, the baby could come at any time and clearly, that time was now.

"Shit! I- I'll go find Bobby, I'm leaving now, okay? I just need to see if someone can watch Chris," Putting his phone on speaker, Eddie placed it down beside him while he got up and fumbled around on the floor for his button up shirt he took off earlier. At least he hadn't changed into slacks to try and sleep, he stayed in his vest, trousers and even his boots.

"I called Maddie, she's coming over to stay with Chris," That had been the plan in the first place. Maddie had agreed in the beginning that when (Y/n) went into labour, she would look after Chris so the boys could take (Y/n) and be with her and not have to worry.

She hadn't been best pleased when Evan woke her up ten minutes ago but once he explained, she was already getting up and getting dressed.

"Bobby!" Eddie pressed his phone to his ear and stumbled out the bunker room, checking his pockets for his keys and his wallet as he hurried into the main part of the station. He was a little surprised to see Bobby and Hen were wide awake, but then again they had caught two hours sleep early into the evening.

"Eddie, you okay?"

"(Y/n)'s gone into labour, I- I need to go," Eddie wasn't sure what he was pointing at or why he was waving his arms about but he didn't dare put the phone back to his ear when he could hear Evan hurriedly rambling on the other end.

He had to go home. He had a baby to meet.

The one good thing about driving at two in the morning was the lack of traffic on the roads and the amoun of green lights Eddie managed to speed through. He cut over five minutes off his usual record time in getting home from the station and he couldn't have been more relieved.

He was relieved to see Maddie's car in the drive but when he hurried through the front door, he was a little surprised to find Chris up and awake.

Of course, Chris must have heard the commotion and wondered what was going on, but it didn't dawn on Eddie that Chris might wake up and stay awake through all of this. He simply presumed Chris would be tucked up in bed and they would try to quietly get out of the house without him knowing.

But there Chris was, laid huddled up on the sofa with a blanket and a teddy, watching tv with his noise-cancelling headphones slipped over his ears. He wasn't wearing his glasses which meant he was tired and Evan didn't expect him to actually stay up long and watch tv. When they left, Maddie would get him straight back into bed to sleep.

"Oh, you're here!"

His attention directed down the hall when he heard Maddie's voice. She clapped her hands together in relief and managed a smile in his direction. Her eyes had bags beneath them and she looked pasty, the price of being woken up in the middle of the night. She was wearing matching black leggings and a hoodie and her hair was tied up in a loose, messy ponytail.

She flagged him down and ushered him towards the bedroom as she clasped her hands together tightly.

"You need to go, now. She's starting to dilate." He barely felt Maddie's hands on his shoulders when he hurried into the bedroom.

"Mi amor? Hey, how are we doing?" Eddie crouched down in front of her and smoothed his hands up and down her exposed thighs while her knees pressed into his chest. She was sat on the edge of the bed, one hand clutching her leg to try and distract herself while her other hand was crushing Evan's hand who was stood at her side. Anxiously.

(Y/n) looked down at Eddie through her tears but she couldn't form any words. All she could do was clutch his arm and cry. Now he was here, they could go. She and Evan didn't want to go to the hospital without Eddie in case he couldn't meet them or find them there in time. They wanted to go together but waiting for him and Maddie to arrive felt like they had been waiting hours.

"Let's get you in the jeep, hm? How long has she been in labour?" Eddie looked up at Evan as he stood up and moved to take (Y/n)'s arm and hold her back. They both eased her up to her feet between them with their arms around her back to keep her steady and Evan grabbed the hospital bag he had been staring at for the last half an hour.

"We don't know, she was uncomfortable and couldn't sleep, then her water broke." Evan didn't know how long labour had been going on because (Y/n) had been feeling sick and in discomfort all day. She barely managed to get some sleep tonight because every time she tried to lay down, she was in pain. Evan had been about to ring the out of hours service when her water broke and they realised she was in labour.

Maddie hurried ahead to go into the living room so she could distract Chris and make sure he was okay. They had told him what to expect when (Y/n) went into labour but they thought they had another two weeks at least to prepare for this.

Eddie handed his keys over to Evan, muttering a quiet 'go start the car' before he swooped his arms around (Y/n)'s waist and reeled her into his chest. He held his hand out and let her deadlock his fingers in her grip while she doubled over and pressed her free hand into her stomach.

"Not long now," Eddie whispered into her hair, relieved when he glanced at the couch and saw Chris was nodding back off to sleep.

"I'll drive," Evan could see Eddie wanted to argue with him. He wanted to say no because Evan wasn't the best at concentrating this early- or late. But he had been awake for a while and he was fuelled on adrenaline. This state was when Evan was most alert, active and awake so he would be fine to drive them while Eddie stayed in the back with (Y/n).

"Up we go,"

(Y/n) whimpered, burying her face in her hands once she was in the back seat. She didn't know how to move or sit or rest to try and ease her agonising discomfort. Leaning forward helped relieve some of the tension but it didn't do her back any favours. And sitting straight or slouching back only made her feel sick.

With a scream, (Y/n) slumped forward and grabbed the back of the passenger seat in front of her. She pressed her head into the chair, scratched her nails into the fabric and arched her back out. Her knees pressed out to the sides to part her legs and try to make the pain ease just a little.

It helped when she felt Eddie's hand massaging circles into her lower back while his other hand gripped her arm and his lips pressed against her exposed shoulder. She was wearing one of his lounge shirts and changing didn't seem like a big deal when she would be in a hospital gown once they arrived.

She was relieved Evan's overthinking had led to him packing their hospital bag last month. He wanted to be prepared even when Eddie told him it was way too early to pack it when (Y/n) had been seven months pregnant. It was a good job he had done it now.

"Alright baby, we'll be there soon," Evan leaned back and ran his fingertips along (Y/n)'s arm, locking eyes with Eddie in the rear view mirror before he looked back at the road.

"Hurry up!" (Y/n)'s voice broke and her tone was pleading, she didn't want to be in the car any longer than necessary.

"Don't speed up," Eddie hissed, hitting the back of his hand against Evan's shoulder. "The last thing we need is someone pulling you over or a ticket."

"Neither of you are helping right now," Evan retorted with a huff. He wasn't going to speed, he was only going three over the limit which was barely anything and there was nothing on the roads this late at night.

"I wanna push,"

"What?" Evan's eyes widened and he snapped his head to look over his right shoulder, staring worriedly at both his partners before he looked back at the road. They weren't at that stage yet. They couldn't be. (Y/n) just had to try and stay calm and settled and they would get her to the maternity ward. She could push once a midwife told her to, not here in the jeep.

"No, no mi amor don't do that. Come on, deep breaths," Eddie leaned forward to press his lips against her neck which was flushed and blistering hot. He nipped at her skin and traced his way down to her shoulder while his hand left her arm and moved to squeee her thigh to try and give her something to ground herself to.

She needed a distraction, pushing wasn't going to help right now when she wasn't ready.

Eddie moved his hand up her back until he cupped the back of her neck, lacing his fingers into her hair to lean her a little closer to him. But he didn't like the way she choked out a moan and tensed beside him. She pushed up on the edge of the seat and clung tighter to the chair in front of her.

Her teeth chattered together and a very forced breath spat past her lips but the way she twisted her body and tensed her stomach made Eddie flinch.

"Don't push mi amor."

"I need to," They could barely hear her words when she sobbed and her mouth was smothered against the seat to try and stop herself from screaming or lashing out. They couldn't sit there and tell her not to when she felt a desperate, aching need to have the baby now.

"Eddie-"

"Keep your eyes on the road." Eddie gave Evan a daring look before he unbuckled his seatbelt and snapped it back. The quiet, alarming beep was drowned out by all of their panic and Evan tried to keep his eyes on the road, not the flashing warning sign telling him someone had taken off their belt. But it was hard to watch the road when he wanted to turn and look to see what his partner was doing.

He snook a glance in the mirror, watching Eddie cram his large frame in the footwell.

Eddie gently pressed his hand against (Y/n)'s chest and pushed her until she took the hint and let go of the chair so she could flop back in her seat. Her nails dug into the seatbelt and her eyes screwed shut as she cried out. Her knee bashed against the door and her thighs quaked with how harshly she was bending her legs so Eddie could shimmy between her thighs and drag her underwear down her thighs.

"Christ, Buck how far away are we?"

"Four minutes?"

"You better make it two because she's crowning. Mi amor I know it hurts but please, please try not to push yet, we don't want the baby born here."

Taking a deep breath, Eddie tried to smile up at (Y/n) as he hovered his lips over her thigh and kissed her while his hands dug deeply into the back of her legs to keep them both steady and concentrating. When she reached down and clamped her hand down on his shoulder, Eddie kissed her wrist and leaned into her touch as she squirmed in front of him.

Evan sat forward in his seat, continuously looking over his shoulder at the two of them in the back seat while he tried to follow the signs for the maternity ward. He knew it was somewhere at the back of the hospital, it had a different car park and entrance and the last thing they needed was to go in through the main reception and be in the wrong building.

He swerved round a sharp bend and pulled up as close as he could get. This was the time when Evan wished they had one of the permits Bobby had in his car to say he was a firefighter on duty so he could park where he needed to in an emergency.

"We're here, we're here come on."

Evan hopped out the car and opened the back door, shaking his head before he leaned over (Y/n) and unclipped her belt.

"Alright baby, let's get you out." His hands found her wrists and he gently looped her arms around his neck so he could grab her hips. Evan pressed his lips against (Y/n)'s temple, kissing her flushed skin while Eddie leaned up behind her and held her waist.

(Y/n) kept her eyes tightly closed and buried her face into the crook of Evan's neck, digging her nails into his back as he pulled her chest flush up against his. She could feel him whispering something into her hair while he took her weight and lifted her down from the car. If this had been any other situation, (Y/n) would have laughed that she had come out wearing only one of Eddie's shirts and her slippers. But she couldn't care less what she was wearing right now.

She cared about the baby she was about to have.

She felt Eddie jump down from the jeep and his chest moulded up against her back, both men keeping her wedged between them for safety and comfort.

A shudder ran down the back of (Y/n)'s spine when Eddie kissed the base of her neck and squeezed her hips as they began to walk. He stayed glued to her back while Evan moved to stand at her side and hold her arms to help guide her and make sure she didn't fall.

A broken sob burned at the back of (Y/n)'s throat when a crippling pain tore through her abdomen. She arched her back out into Eddie and doubled forward, pulling Evan's arms to her stomach when she felt like she had to push.

They weren't going to make it inside.

"God, Evan-" She broke off, shivers wracking through her body as she screamed and cowered down.

"Mi amor we have to get inside, five more steps, please baby girl?" Eddie's chin tucked into the crook of her neck in a way that made (Y/n) shudder and inhale a deep breath when shockwaves coursed through her body. They were right near the doors. People were looking their way, if they could get (Y/n) inside it didn't matter if she had the baby in the reception area. As long as they were inside where nurses could rush to their aid and help them.

Eddie nodded at Evan and they started to walk, practically heaving (Y/n) between them to keep her moving further. They could see the way her knees were trembling and she was desperate to go down on her knees or lay on the floor. She just wanted to hunker down and push.

Reaching her hand up behind her, (Y/n) grabbed at Eddie's neck and shoulder, gasping as she silently tried to tell him that something was happening.

"Buck,"

When they got two feet through the main doors, Evan glued up into (Y/n)'s side and moved round to take Eddie's place behind her. He curved his arms under hers and held her shoulders tightly like he was trying to restrain her when he was actually taking her weight to keep her upright. Her lower back pushed into his groin and he leaned forward, moulding himself against her back with a deep breath as (Y/n) scratched her nails into his wrists.

She knew he would lower her down to the floor if she asked, but she didn't want to sit down. Staying standing felt better on her stomach.

"I need help!" Eddie hollered before he crouched down in front of (Y/n) and whispered a few apologies against her thigh before he leaned to look between her legs. "Push mi amor, just keep pushing."

"You're doing so good," Evan whispered into the crook of her neck, unable to stop himself from smiling as he looked down at Eddie. This was it. This was what they had been imagining and dreaming about for the past eight months. They were having a baby.

"Head's out," Eddie reached out and took the towel a nurse had in her hands when she hurried over towards them. He couldn't bring himself to look around or care that the few people in the waiting area were now crowding round to see what was happening and he was sure someone was recording. But he would deal with that when the baby was in his arms.

"Sir, if you'll let me-"

"Eddie," (Y/n) wavered in Evan's arms, panic written across her face when she dared to open her eyes in case the nurse was going to make him move. The baby was coming and she didn't want anyone else to come near her but her boys. She could see his calming smile when he looked up at her, silently telling her he wasn't moving.

"He's a trained medic and we both work for the LAFD, we're not moving, our baby's coming now." Evan's voice was oddly stern and dark in a way neither (Y/n) or Eddie had heard before and it made them both shiver.

He wasn't having anyone try to make him and Eddie move one inch away from their girl when she needed them.

Evan kissed the side of (Y/n)'s neck and held her tighter, holding up her weight when (Y/n) bent down as she screamed. Her chin pressed into her chest and her eyes screwed shut as she pushed, feeling every muscle tear itself apart and cause her and Evan to start shaking.

"One more push… you've done it! Mi amor you've done it."

Eddie laid the towel over his arms and let their baby gently fall into his grip. He pressed his chest up against (Y/n)'s thighs so he could ease their baby against his chest and curve the towel around them. He shuffled back an inch and nodded at the nurse as another two nurses crowded round to give space and hand down a medical bag.

His hand ran up and down the newborn's back until a small cry and a few croaky breaths filled the air and he smiled. His lips curved into a broad smile and he laughed, looking up at his partners in amazement.

Evan was already in tears, tucking his face into (Y/n)'s neck as he held her tighter and gently swayed them a little. Hugging her as tight as ever as he whispered praises into her neck.

He let his arms move down from (Y/n)'s shoulders to hold her stomach and Evan was grateful for the two nurses who stepped in to hold (Y/n)'s arms and help ease her down when she bent her knees and tried to sit. Her energy had faded and she was starting to shake, she needed to sit down. Evan sat down with a thump and eased (Y/n) between his thighs, letting her lean back into his chest.

"Looks like you're still the only girl in the house, we've got a boy." Eddie kissed the newborn's temple and as soon as the nurse delivered the placenta and cut the cord, Eddie moved round. He shuffled on his knees until he was at (Y/n) and Evan's side and motioned his arms out towards them.

As delicately as he could, Eddie eased their son into (Y/n)'s arms that were cocooned by Evan's arms so he could lean over her shoulder and look down at their boy.

Evan had been right. He guessed they were going to have a boy and so had Chris, whereas Eddie and (Y/n) thought it would be a girl. Mainly because if not, that meant (Y/n) would be in a house with four boys and she would be truly outnumbered.

"Maybe we should get you all checked over properly and onto a ward?"

Eddie rubbed his hands over his knees and nodded at the nurse who was now giving out orders so they could get some more help. Nobody had been expecting the three of them to come in and have a baby in the doorway. Themselves included.

Tears flushed (Y/n)'s face and she tilted her forehead into Evan's chin while Eddie leaned his head on her arm.

"My boys,"

[nirvanawrites111]

Set My Wings on Fire (DPR Ian x Fem!Reader)

Summary: You're smitten by the love of your life, Christian Yu and he's being painted as a dangerous person. But, you don't care cause that's your man and you're going to stick beside him. You're pretty much in love with a villain, but he's super sweet to you. Non-celebrity AU.

Pairing: DPR Ian x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2024

Warnings: Smut, PIV, oral sex (male rec), mentions of murder, praise kink, good girl, unprotected sex, creampie

This is part of a NEW SERIES called Duality. It's all about embracing switch!energy. Part 1 will be sub!reader and Part 2 will be dom!reader. Some of the stories will be 2 idols x reader, and some will be just 1 on 1.

Smut below the cut.

"You need to leave him alone," Your best friend voices as they stare at the large television on your wall. The dim glow casts a shadow across your living room.

You press your lips together and cross your arms. A tightness crawls up your chest. This is the last thing you want to hear right now. You are tired of hearing this comment right now. You feel around your couch for the remote. You can't bother to listen to the news channel any longer.

"Look," you begin, forcing yourself to meet their gaze. "I know Christian very well. The media is trying to make up stories about him. He's not the monster they're making him out to be," You speak up and express your feelings. You twist his ring that he gave you a year ago, and you decide to wear it as a necklace.

You know Christian better than anyone. Everything he does has a meaning and purpose behind it.

You stare at the image of his picture plastered on the television. His usual neat dark brown hair is a mess, and his eyeliner is smeared. Underneath his picture are large red letters "WANTED" that contrast against his pale complexion. Sure, he might seem dangerous to someone else, but to you, something magnetizes you to him.

"The man is a killer, Y/n. If he comes here, you need to turn him in. You don't want to go to jail for housing a fugitive, do you?"

"He isn't a killer. I don't care what the media is saying."

You pick up your phone off the couch table and see that he texted you five minutes ago that he was on his way. You quickly text back and tell him to wait until your best friend leaves.

"This man has brainwashed you. Hopefully, you realize the truth before it's too late." Your best friend raises their hands in defeat and stands up. "I gotta go. I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"He's not, but thanks for stopping by," you reply, trying to smooth things.

Your friend stands up and hugs you. You're glad they are leaving. There is nothing that will convince you that Christian is a bad person. Even with everything you know about him, you would never turn on him.

You walk with them to your front door, and the soft patter of your bare feet echoes against the polished hardwood floor.

Once they leave you close the door only to be slightly pushed open, revealing Christian.

There he is.

The only man that can make you melt to your knees. You want nothing more than to feel his hands all over you.

"Beautiful," Christian, your accented lover, whispers your favorite nickname. He steps into your home. His words allow you to fall to your knees and please your man. But, you don't want to act too thirsty.

He removes his hood with both hands and reveals his hair in messy, shoulder-length loose curls. The two of you stand in your foyer, and your eyes connect.

Christian has such a dark energy around him that it attracts you to him for whatever reason. It pulls you in so closely, like a moth to a flame. Regardless of what others say, you can still see the good in him. He's been nothing but kind, patient, and loving to you. So, really, that's all that matters to you.

"Are you okay?" You ask him.

Christian removes his sweatshirt, and your eyes trace over his tattoos. You run your hand over the one tattoo over his heart, your name.

"I'm so much better, now that I'm with you."

"I'm sure you know they're looking for you."

"I know," Christian sighs. "I'm also wanted for something. What is it this time?"

"Murder."

Christian stares into your eyes, and he can heart your heart beating fast. No one has ever cared about him more than you. Your unwavering loyalty is something he's searched for many years. Now, he's found exactly what he needs within you.

"Do you think I'm guilty?" Christian asks you.

"No, but if you did it, I know there was a reason."

"Good girl. You know your man oh too well," Christian praises you. He knows it's exactly what you need to hear in this moment.

Your lips curl into a smile, and you haven't looked away from him. He knows that nothing about him scares you. He's told you his deepest, darkest secrets. Because he knows he can trust you.

"I do. My best friend was just running their mouth talking about how I need to leave you alone. But, they don't know you like I do."

"Do you need me to handle that?"

"No, never that."

"We have some catching up to do. Don't we, angel?"

"Yes."

***

You turn on the shower and step into it first. Christian follows behind you. He presses you against the shower wall from behind. "My angel.. so pure. So innocent," he whispers into your ear.

Christian runs his hand down your back, enough to give you chills. You've missed feeling his touch against your skin.

"You know I'm far from innocent."

"Compared to me. You're a saint."

Christian attacks your neck with kisses. This instantly sends a warmth throughout your body. You've missed the way his lips feel against your skin. You don't care what happens when he's out of your sight. Because this man adores you, he'd do anything to protect you.

"Sweetness, tell me.." Christian pulls away from you and turns you around to face him. His gaze penetrates your eyes, searching for something unspoken. "Do you really love me?"

His eyes are full of emotions, and you can see the pureness in his question. But, at the same time, why would he question you this way? You've always supported him no matter what.

"Of course, I do. Why wouldn't I?"

"Even if I had to leave you for a bit?"

Your breath quickens, and you can feel your stomach churn. Is he going to up and leave you? Does this mean he's going to end things with you?

"Where are you going?" You twist your necklace.

Christian picks you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist as the warm water cascades down the two of you.

"I'm not sure. But, I'm leaving in 48 hours."

"Because of what I saw on the news?" You try to piece everything together. Did this mean that it was true? You didn't want to ask him what happened because you trusted him.

He promised you he would never do anything that would jeopardize his time with you. He stated that from the beginning. But, now, it felt like things were going differently.

"Yes."

"I'm coming with you."

"Hell no. I will get this sorted out. I will come back for you."

"No, I'm coming with you."

"Angel?"

"Yes."

"Don't I always come back for you?"

"Yes.. but."

"No, buts. Listen, you have to trust me. I will come back for you, okay?"

You nod. But, your fear is he's going to leave you.

"Angel, don't look so sad. I wish I could take you with me. It's going to pain me to leave you."

"Well let me taste you for the last time."

"Of course, angel."

Christian releases from his arms, and you get down on your knees. You look up at him.

He strokes your face and looks at you in such a loving way.

You hold your hands behind your back and swirl your tongue around his dick until he's halfway in your mouth.

You hum your favorite song and move your mouth up and down his length. This could be the last time you taste him, so you want to savor the moment.

You close your eyes and move faster and hear him moan. You love hearing him vocalize his satisfaction for you.

"Go deeper for me, angel," Christian instructs you, and you have no problem following instructions.

You take him deeper into your mouth, and he cradles the back of your head. He's moving with you to the point where you two are rocking as one.

At this moment, you are breathing through your nose because you only want to please him. You live to serve him. You are hopelessly devoted to him.

"Fuck.. just like this," Christian groans. "Don't stop, angel. God, you're so beautiful like this."

"Mmmhm," you barely manage to say because you have your mouth full and wouldn't want to have it any other way. Tonight has to count and hold you over.

"No one else can suck me the way you do. You're so amazing, angel," Christian continues to praise you, which encourages you to keep going because you know he's so close.

"You want this nut don't you?"

You nod without missing a beat, and both of his hands are on the back of your head. He's practically fucking your throat at this point.

He cums down your throat, and you swallow all of it.

Christian pulls you up to kiss you. He slips his tongue into your mouth and kisses you. As the kiss deepens, you can't help but run your fingers along your pussy only to find that it are dripping for him.

"Thank you for that amazing blow job, angel. You're always amazing."

"No problem."

Christian wraps his arms around you. "Mhmm.. I'm ready to feel all of you now. You want that, baby?"

"Yess.."

"How do you want me?"

"From behind.. like this." You turn around, place your hands against the shower wall, and arch your back.

Christian places his hand against your lower back and moves his dick along your entrance. "You know I love taking you from behind. Do you want me here or do you want back door."

"Here.. I want to feel you deep inside me. I prefer anal when I'm pegging you."

Christian kisses on the side of your neck. "I know baby.. next time when I come home. We can celebrate with pegging." He sucks on your neck and inches himself into you.

Feeling him inside of you feels like home. There's nothing like having him deep inside of you.

"You're so tight for me, angel," Christian whispers against your neck, kissing gently against the spot he just sucked on.

You moan out his name and enjoy him being inside of you again.

The feeling is euphoric, and you get lost in the moment of being one with your lover again. His hands cover and clasps with yours as he strokes into you.

You hope you celebrate with him, but you want to enjoy this moment. You arch your back a little more as he increases the pace. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure throughout your body. It feels too good. You deserve to experience this type of heaven on earth.

Christian holds you in place as he slows down with each backshot he gives you, and he reaches from behind and runs his hand down the front of your love nest. He moves to your clit and strokes it.

"Yesss, baby! I love when you rub my clit," you moan out.

"I know you do." Christian continues to rub it while you tighten around his dick. "My baby is close. Are you going to cum on my dick?"

"Mmhmm," you moan. But, at the point, you're already trembling from the combination of his teasing your clit and being buried inside you. The sensation is perfect. It's a feeling that never gets old. No matter how many times he gives you an orgasm, it always feels as good as the first time.

"So, be a good girl and cum for me."

"That's it.. baby. Cum on dick." He instructs you and talks you through it. You obey him easily. You release onto his dick. He's right there with you as he pumps into you until he cums inside you.

"Mmm.. thank you, baby," you say, trying to catch your breath.

"No, thank you angel. You were wonderful as always. I can't wait to celebrate with you when I come back."

If you enjoyed this please reblog. It helps other find my work.

Part 2

[dearharriet]

Whatever; Steve Harrington 🌓

summary: they say you’ll meet every person in your life twice. the second time you meet steve, you’re in college, and he’s very different from what you remember.

word count: 3.2K

warnings: fem!r, mentions + content of previous bullying, ex-bully!steve, alcohol consumption, some unresolved emotions, angst, hurt/comfort

a/n: i swear im alive i’m just stupidly busy. hope y’all like this one xxx

You circled back to Steve so quickly that a lick of embarrassment flamed at your cheeks, but really, you couldn’t have stopped it. His presence was fascinating, and like a passerby can’t look away from a car accident, you couldn’t resist inspecting Steve.

The house was very dark and humid, crowded with people that went to your university, and people who didn’t. Steve, for example, who had appeared—now for a second time—seemingly out of nowhere. Two weeks ago you’d spotted him at a party across town that a scene band threw, but he’d disappeared before you could talk to him. Tonight, he wasn’t so lucky.

To your relief, he received your sudden presence very gracefully, almost sheepishly. He was bowing his head and his broad shoulders shrunk together carefully. You wanted to say something very bold, something to grab his attention like fancy meeting you here, but the totality of your unfamiliarity made you hesitate.

“Where’ve you been?” you shouted instead, hugging your chest to feign casualness. It sounded, you realized, like you were inquiring as to where he’d been five minutes ago, not indefinitely post-graduation. Steve didn’t seem to mind.

“Hawkins,” he replied, matter-of-fact. “You?”

“Hawkins?” you repeated, ignoring his courtesy. “That’s not like you.” In truth, you probably knew very little about what would be like him and what would not, so you tacked on, “Not to be presumptuous or anything, sorry.”

In school, you and Steve saw very much of each other yet spoke next to never. In the spring of your sophomore year, Tommy Hagan’s father made him walk about the neighborhood and offer to mow lawns for money—something about growing hair on his chest, forming a sense of responsibility—and your mother had just broken her wrist, so she gave him a five dollar bill every Saturday for three months to help out. Tommy was awful at it, and he loathed you, and when you returned to school in September he’d dragged Carol and Steve with him into his loathing.

One day, you couldn’t recall what date—or even what month—but you remembered the three of them had come to find you after classes were done after you’d stayed late. You missed a question on some test, or there was something about a project, whatever. You knew it was late because the halls were empty, and your recollection of that relied heavily on the memory of Carol’s chilling laugh echoing down them, which you never forgot.

“God, Tommy, you’re sadistic.”

They prowled closer, just around the bend. Tommy and Carol were chortling and you could imagine them hanging all over each other the way that they often did. Steve cut in abrasively, something frenetic in his tone.

“I’m telling you, she’s not here, man.”

Steve’s voice bounced down the corridor and sounded back, like radar pinging around and around, detecting movement.

“Relax, Harrington, what’s the rush?”

“Rachel’s waitin’ on me, that’s what,” Steve replied. “And I still gotta drop you two assholes off.”

“Your gal-pal can wait, Steve,” Carol sneered, and you thought her voice was edged with something sharper than exasperation. “Besides, this’ll be fun.”

They turned the corner, and you realized then that it was likely you they were looking for, and it was suddenly too late to turn and hide. You froze, bag heavy on your shoulder and damp starting to form on your brow.

“Ah-ha! Just the girl we wanted to see,” Tommy sang, his voice already lilting meanly. You took a step back, wondering if they’d really chase you if you bolted. Carol had heeled boots on, and you were certain Tommy and Steve wouldn’t hunt down a girl no matter how twisted they were. A guy, sure, but you?

It didn’t matter, because you didn’t run, which you could only blame on yourself and your tendency to petrify under pressure. Anything you chose seemed the worst option, which made the logical solution to do nothing.

“She looks about ready to run,” Carol peered as they came closer, which was very astute for her, all things considered.

“Yeah, maybe.” Tommy grinned. “You wanna play, goodie-two-shoes? Me ‘n Steve’ll give you a head start.”

In retrospect, the roles of Tommy and Carol and Steve, and even you, are played by their fully grown versions. Of course you all looked very young, sounded very young—being fifteen at the time—but it all comes back as if it happened yesterday. It’s warped by everything that happened after.

“Yeah, why don’t you just get it over with, save us all a little time?” Steve picked, his expression almost bored.

You pressed your lips together. Carol stepped behind you, prodding at your bag, and you recoiled, backing closer to the lockers.

“Nah, she’s too chicken-shit,” she hissed, and then ripped your bag from your arms. When you lunged for her, Tommy pushed you back into the metal wall of lockers, and your shoulder blade landed hard on a dial-lock.

“Jesus H Christ, Tommy,” Steve laughed awkwardly, “could you have pushed her any harder?”

“Whatever, man,” Tommy waved him off, watching as Carol dug through your satchel. “You’re soft.”

Steve’s features tightened then, all of a sudden like a switch had been flipped. He took his hand out of his hair and strode over to Carol, taking your bag and emptying its contents onto the linoleum. Notebooks and pens, highlighters and, embarrassingly, a heap of pads, all washed over the floor. Carol had your journal in her hands and Steve took that too, discarding it with everything else.

“I’m fuckin’ tired of this shit,” he muttered, “let’s go.”

“Boo,” Carol complained, “what a wet blanket.”

“Yeah, why don’t you stay here with the teachers’ pet,” Tommy gibed, gesturing at you, “since you both love being L-A-M-E.”

He spelled the word out, holding a backwards L on his forehead that Carol copied.

“Yeah, and who’s gonna drive you home, Tommy?” Steve challenged. Tommy clenched his jaw, rolling his eyes petulantly. Carol’s hip popped as she dropped her hand, lips smacking. “That's what I thought.”

Steve brushed past them then, properly regal and entitled, and they followed him begrudgingly, swapping resentful glances until you couldn’t see them anymore.

In the minutes it took to gather your things back into your bag, you couldn’t resist the cloudy thought that Steve dumping your bag felt like a mercy. In the company of many rabider dogs, his offense was almost magnanimous, and, despite it being your things, felt more targeted at Tommy and Carol than at you. On your way home you decided that that was stupid, and that you were likely feeding into a fantasy that would eventually hurt you.

It wasn’t until after graduation that you realized they were bullying you. At the time it obviously hadn’t felt friendly, but you’d been so fictile then that you assumed most of the blame. When your mind changed, the word bullying alone felt too childish to bear, so you decided it was fine and that you were over it.

Standing before you at the party, Steve was folded in on himself. The memory juxtaposed so coarsely against how he looked now.

“Not like me?” he repeated.

“I just mean,” you continued, “I would’ve thought you’d go to school. Here in Chicago, maybe. I don't know. Indi, at the least.”

He shook his head, cradling his damp beer can closer.

“Yeah, well, I'm not smart like you,” he answered. “I didn’t really get accepted anywhere.”

Steve’s cheeks pinked with embarrassment, but he didn’t look all that dejected. You were sure that was the nicest thing he’d ever said to you, and the added element of self-depreciation threw you off-kilter.

“You still talk with Carol and Tommy and stuff?” It wasn’t much of a question, but Steve looked profoundly confused.

“What? No, I um—“ He licked his lips, looking down. “They ditched me when Hargrove came into town. You don’t remember?”

“Oh,” you said. “No, I must’ve missed that.”

“Yeah, that’s uh. S’ probably for the best. You shouldn’t have been caught up with us anyways.” It sounded like an apology, though not direct enough for you to accept in any way.

“Well it’s not like I never saw Tommy H. and Carol again,” you said, admittedly sour. “I figured you were off with Nancy or whatever. Where is she anyways?”

“Nancy?” You nodded. Shrugging, Steve said, “I wouldn’t know. We broke up in 1984.”

“Oh,” you jolted , “sorry about that.”

“Nah, don’t be.” He looked very sorry about it himself, like he was still wishing it away.

“Well, I am. I always thought you two would get married or something. She seemed like she knew how to keep you in line.”

Steve smiled softly, vaguely.

“Yeah, Nancy’s like that.”

His sentence ended there and didn’t pick back up, and you felt terribly anxious about what to say next. As often as you denied it, you did want to see people from school again, if only to show them they didn’t win. You wanted to happen upon Steve The Hair Harrington, or Tommy H. or Carol Perkins or anyone at all just to affirm that, yes, you were doing significantly better than they expected you to. You wore shoes with heels and makeup and you were just like them, only you could writhe in shameless glory because you were never a prick.

“So what do you do? No school?”

Steve leaned closer then, apprehensive as he brought his mouth to your ear.

“D’you wanna talk outside?” He asked, and then pulled back to gauge your expression. “I can’t hear very well,” he explained, some level of shame coloring him. You nodded tolerantly, following him out to the porch.

It was clear and cold in the Chicago suburbs, like a freshly opened bottle of coke, and you could see Orion’s Belt. You had on a white leather jacket that kept you just warm enough.

“You seem to like it better here,” Steve observed. Your earlier question stood forgotten from the journey outside.

“In a way,” you agreed.

“People are nicer?”

You pinched your brows thoughtfully.

“I wouldn’t say nicer, no.” Fiddling with your jewelry, you looked at the sky. “People have been rude to me here before, but it’s…it isn’t like Hawkins.” You swallowed a freezing breath, wondering if Steve was really standing next to you. “I can leave at any time if it gets to be too much. Or, like, tell them to fuck off if I wanted to. In high school I just had to sit there and take it, and then come back the next day for more.”

Blowing out a stiff laugh, you looked back to Steve. His eyes were downcast, face crumpled, and it looked like he would eat his own mouth before he said a word in response. It was painfully silent, so silent that the wind and your racing heart played a spoilt song together at Steve’s inattentive audience.

Your face felt warm with humiliation. Conversation had grown on you, or so you thought, enough that you wouldn’t become carried away into overzealous speeches to people who didn’t care. You cleared your throat uncomfortably, frowning.

“Do you like Chicago?” You asked Steve, and it turned brittle in the air, like a wisp of ash from a fire.

“I’m so sorry,” his aggrieved response came, and it carved your chest open to hear, in a way. It was something you imagined, a moment you craved, a fantasy you knew would never occur. Now that it had, you felt a million miles away, like he’d said some magic word and hypnotized you, stealing your present mind and leaving you cavernous and vulnerable.

“It’s really okay, Steve,” you said hoarsely. “We were kids, and you were as stuck as I was.”

“I was not,” he sternly denied.

“Sure you were,” you insisted, “it was eat or be eaten. I can’t blame you for not wanting to be picked on.”

“Because I would have died from being unliked,” he retorted sarcastically. You gave him a look as if to say that’s not fair, but you knew he was right. It would have been a different kind of unlike for him. If he’d forfeited his social standing, all of the cruelty and indifference he got would have been directly his decision, and his courage would have been gratifying enough to sustain him.

“Well,” you stammered persistently, “I still think you’re okay. I forgive you.”

“Look, I’m—“ Steve huffed, scrubbing at his hair anxiously. “I’m not trying to fish for compliments. Really. I just have this terrible feeling that you convinced yourself that it’s okay, what all happened in school. But it’s not okay. It’s not.”

He looked into your eyes hotly, a wild turn to his features, and you felt oddly nauseous. You looked at your shoes to avoid his stare, slim heeled boots that all the pretty girls wore in school, and you wondered how you’d feel about those girls if you’d never slipped them on, never had a guy take you home because you looked so good in them.

“What do you want me to do, then?” you asked.

Steve was silent for a moment.

“Whatever you feel,” he replied, “what I want is besides the point.”

“Not to me,” you mumbled, and then regretted it instantly. You pulled your jacket tight around you and shivered, said: “I don’t know what to do.”

A tear tracked hot and shameful down your cheek, dancing with the porch light and the stars and Steve’s eyes. You felt like the whole world was watching you flounder and choke like a fish on a dock. You sucked in, and air stole down your throat in three distinct parts, stuttering and painful.

Steve reached for you then, taking your arm into his grip and crushing you to his chest. Through teary eyes you could spy into the house where the party still thundered. It looked shockingly vibrant and warm inside, a world away from your moment with Steve on the frigid veranda. He was holding your head gently and rubbing at your back, and you could only think of how much you’d been craving this. How you’d yearned over intellectual conversations and counseling sessions for something as real as this moment, here, with Steve. He knew you better than anyone inside, anyone in Chicago, even, and you could not fathom how that had happened.

Pressing into him, you sniffled pitifully and hid your face.

“Sorry for crying,” you said, “I really didn’t want to.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Steve said, for the second time that night. You liked the way he said it, with a soft sternness that left no room for argument. He even went on further to say: “It’s okay if you want to cry some more.”

You rubbed his sleek jacket between your fingers and looked at him.

“You won’t tell anyone?”

Steve laughed, and you knew then that he wouldn’t, like you knew he wasn’t laughing at your expense.

“Who am I gonna tell?” he asked genuinely. You thought about it.

“Tommy or…” Steve shook his head. “No, right, you said that.”

You pretended to think some more, but you had nothing. You said, “I don’t know,” and then expected Steve to give you a name, like you were playing a guessing game and you’d lost. Instead, he drew his arms tighter around your shoulders, so that your chin was trapped on his chest as you looked up at him.

“I won’t tell a soul if that’s what you want,” he admitted, a shiny frond of his hair escaping the fray to sway between you two. “I think I’d do whatever you asked, actually.”

He seemed very affronted by that fact, as if he was only discovering it as he told you, right then.

“Would you—” You licked your lips. Looked at Steve’s. Asked: “Would you kiss me?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed, “‘course.”

He kissed you then, acerbic ale transferring from his lips to yours. The stray hair caught between your foreheads, doing what your noses could not and flattening. Steve’s hands held you firmly, at the back of your neck and on your upper arm, and it made you shudder. He was kissing you dizzy—not nearly the first you’d ever had, but certainly the first that felt worthwhile, the first that felt good and right and deserved.

As you pulled away shyly, Steve kept his eyes closed, his jaw working and his breath uneven.

“Steve?” you called.

“Hm?”

“Did I do something wrong?”

Steve hummed negatively, tapping his forehead back onto yours and finally blinking his eyes open.

“No, sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t be sorry.” You smiled, and Steve grinned knowingly, like he could tell he’d be hearing that a hundred times a week from then on. You asked him what he was thinking and he fiddled with your jacket collar nervously.

“Just about you. In Chicago and everything. Where that puts us.” Steve scrunched his face in a sort of wince like that might upset you. “I mean, not that there has to be an us at all—if that’s not what you want, or if I’m getting ahead of myself.”

He says the last bit like a question, like a request. Like: Please say I’m not getting ahead of myself?

“No, I wouldn’t say you are,” you assured him. “I didn’t even think about the distance. Does it bother you?”

“Yeah,” Steve said without hesitation, but a small abashed smile played on his lips. “But I meant what I said, whatever you say goes. Whatever you want me to do.”

You looked him over, from the tallest strand of his styled hair down to where your chests met, taking in his moles and the fibers of his shirt.

“Do you have anyone at home that you’d miss?” you asked, and Steve’s face said everything, even as he shook his head stubbornly.

“Baby, whatever you want. Ask me to move up and I will.”

Smiling, you kissed him curiously, the feeling so novel and thrilling. His responding squeeze on your arm shot through you to your very center.

“I still have my family in Hawkins,” you told him dazedly. “I go home every holiday. We can visit. And it’s only a year and half before I graduate, and then we can figure something new out.”

Steve smiled dryly, perhaps anticipating a different answer, but ultimately you knew it’d be best not to rush anything. You were content, all of the excitement and adrenaline seeping from your body and making you feel soft around the edges. You shivered a touch, and Steve rocked you both to and fro.

“Do you wanna go back inside,” he asked, his mouth on your hairline. You shook your head, stuffing your face in the junction of his neck and shoulder.

“Can we stay here just a little longer?” you pleaded.

“‘Course we can,” Steve granted, soothing his fingers through your hair. “Whatever you want.”

+

thank u for reading xx

masterlist

[agendabymooner]

☏ ALO-INDUCED CHAOS, fa14 voicemail blurb (f)

☏ MOONY’S VOICEMAIL — a series in which formula one drivers send a voicemail to the reader. what about? prompts may vary. (maybe fluff or smut, idk)

voicemail summary: fernando called his wife in hopes of finding his son’s race suit as chaos occurred in the alonso household. thankfully, his daughter was sane enough to assist him and her siblings as they prepared to head out for the race.

content warning: dad!fernando x nameless mom!reader, literally blurb, humour/fluff, dad!fernando and the mini alos (from this smau series), brief spanish dialogue, dad!nando in his prime (sarcastic as hell but you know), sassy mini nando (reyna)

note: i have not slept for a day straight 🤧 enjoy this blurb xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

“mi amor, i don’t know where you are right now but i’m just wondering if you know where frederico’s race suit might be?” fernando asked through the voicemail, a hint of panic in his tone as he said, “i told him to get it from the laundry room before we got ready but—“

“pa!” a voice called from the entryway or wherever fernando was as they continued to speak, “i’ve helped tino and tiago put on their shoes and they have their jackets on! ¿podemos irnos ahora?” can we go now? 

fernando replied back to the voice, “and their bags? all good?”

“sì,” the voice replied, “can we go now? you haven’t even braided my hair yet, papa!”

“reyna, i’m talking to your mother,” fernando told the voice, now named reyna, with a slight scolding tone. “can you help your big brother find his race suit? por favor?” 

“ugh- frederico,” reyna stomped off.

“reyna severina alonso, your feet,” fernando called, “stop stomping them or i’ll cut ‘em off.” 

“we’re running late to the race, pa!” reyna argued back. 

“i know we are, that’s why please help your brother find his suit,” fernando told his daughter. the girl had already gone off before another pair of feet began making their way to where fernando was.

“paaaaa,” another voice said, “which helmet should i use?”

fernando sighed deeply. “frederico, amor—“

“sì?” his eldest son, frederico or freddy, asked him with a glint of curiosity in his tone.

“how many heads do you have?” fernando asked, his sarcastic self showing despite speaking to his own son. he couldn’t help it— they were about to run late to freddy’s race. and freddy was here asking him about which helmet to use.

“you gotta pick one, mi corazon— preferably quickly because you’re gonna miss your race,” fernando told freddy as nicely as he could. 

“okay, okay-i’ll do that,” freddy let out a sigh. 

another pair of feet had stomped into the room as reyna’s voice dragged out the name, “freddyyyyyy!”

“rey, what did i say about your feet?” fernando warned his daughter. 

“i’m sorry, papa— but your son is so so silly,” fabrics shifted as freddy gasped. reyna then continued, “that he couldn’t even find his own race suit in his own room— in his own closet.”

fernando sighed in relief. “you are a delightful girl, rey.”

“oh, sweet! gracias, hermana!” freddy said happily before taking the race suit from his sister and running off. 

fernando then called out, “five minutes and we’re leaving, freddy!” 

“sì! i’ll be down as soon as possible!” freddy’s voice echoed down the hallway. 

the father-daughter duo fell into silence as reyna said, “papa, why is it that every time you and freddy are struggling to find something it’s always me and mama who find them?”

fernando sighed, “don’t get too mouthy now, mi vida.”

“mama said it’s because you two always find with your mouth- not with your eyes,” reyna giggled hysterically once fernando began to tickle her sides. “don’t tickle me, pa! mama’s right!”

“yeah yeah- whatever, c’mon let’s braid your hair before we go.” 

— beep —

[nolita-fairytale]

comfort & chaos | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: 2/22/22

summary: carmy receives bad news that changes his life forever, while you're relationship with him comes to a head. (the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you)

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ only), death, grief, mentions of suicide, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language

word count: 5.5k

listen to: hurting kind - del water gap | robbers - the 1975 | hostages - the howl & the hum

a/n: i need therapy after writing this. so sorry bbs love you all. ok but fr, i thought that i was going to write a smut scene that was not going to be hot bc we know it's canon that carmy does not fuck and then it ended up being really hot and i'm once again asking for therapy.

read: chapter three

2/22/22

Something happened. Can you come over?

That’s all the text said. It’s all that needed to be said for you to drop everything you were doing and hop on the subway. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you imagine every single worst case scenario possible. Carmy had given you little context in regards to what this was about, and you almost regret not asking as your mind runs rampant with possibilities. Not that he would’ve given you an answer. Something about him seemed different. He’d never sent that urgent of a text. 

Not even when the restaurant was slammed and he needed you to come in on your day off. 

Something happened. 

The words continue to echo in your head until you reach him. 

You're at Carmy’s doorstep faster than you ever thought your feet could carry you, and when he opens the door for you, your heart breaks. He’s wrecked. His face is a flushed red, though you don’t think it’s from crying, and he looks like he hasn’t washed his fuckin’ hair in days. You take in his somber expression, like all of the joy he’s ever experienced has been sucked out of him. 

Carmy steps aside, allowing him into your apartment. 

He mumbles something you can barely hear, gesturing towards the couch, so you follow him, taking a seat on the crappy couch you’ve come to love. He stares at the floor, his eyes cold and empty, as you sit in silence. 

It’s you who breaks it, bursting at the seams with anxiety.

“Carmy, you’re scaring me,” you say softly. 

He keeps his eyes fixed on the floor as he licks his lips, swallowing as he opens his mouth to say something. It’s a few moments later that he’s finally able to put two words together to tell you what happened. 

“It’s Michael,” is all he manages to get out. You can hear the break in his voice when he utters Michael’s name, and you’re terrified of what he’s going to say next. 

“Your brother?” you ask, secretly hoping he won’t say yes. 

You feel your stomach drop. 

Carmy nods slowly, “Yeah.” 

He takes a few beats before saying anything else, his head swimming. On one hand it doesn’t feel real, and if he doesn’t say it out loud, maybe it won’t be. There’s a part of him that still thinks this is some cruel, sick joke that Mikey cooked up, just to fuck with him. 

But he knows it’s real. He could hear it in the way that Sugar’s voice broke on the phone. He could hear it in the way that Richie practically screamed at him to stop being such a fuckin’ cuck and come home. He knows it’s real, because for the first time in years, his mom’s called him. 

Must be Sugar or something calling from her phone for her…. ‘S gotta be, he thinks to himself. 

“He’s-,” Carmy starts, before stopping again. Carmy looks away, in the opposite direction of you, focusing his eyes on something outside of the window. 

He can’t look at you because if he looks at you, he might lose it. 

“He’s dead.”

“Oh Carmy,” you gasp, your heart wrenching in your chest as the words leave his mouth. You reach out to touch him, but he flinches, pulling away from you. 

“No,” is all he says through gritted teeth. 

You cannot touch me. You cannot make me feel better about this because I’ll have to feel worse about this, is what he wants to say. 

“The fuckin’ asshole shot himself on the State Street bridge. I don’t-, you don’t get to make me feel better about this,” he snaps, his tone almost a warning. 

“Fuck,” you sigh, sitting up straight and leaning towards him. He may not want your comforts, so you’re going to give your presence. He had asked you to come over after all, right? “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says, coldly. 

His response is jarring, leaving an unsavory taste in your mouth. You understand that he’s just gotten the most unimaginable news, but it doesn’t sit right with that he’s taking it out on you either. Is that why he invited you over? To be his punching bag? Instead, you decide to pivot to crisis control-mode, hoping to remedy some of the animosity he’s harboring. 

“Okay, well, I’ll call Kate and let her know that you can’t come in tonight, if that helps. Just so you don’t have to-,” you suggest. 

“Why would you fucking do that?” he yells, snapping his head towards you as he finally turns towards you. You can see it in his eyes: how angry and devastated he is – at Michael, at what happened – and even though you know it’s not personal, it stings all the same.

“Because!” you shout back. “Carmy, you just found out-... something terrible. I just don’t think you should-.”

“Yeah, well you don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re not my mom and you’re not my girlfriend so,” he’s quick to retort, rebelliously. 

You scoff at him, shaking your head in utter disbelief.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, Carmen,” you cut him off with a yell. You know he’s hurting, but this is where you draw the line. “I’m well aware that I am not your girlfriend, but I am your friend, and I care about you.”

You’re right. 

He knows you’re right. 

He knows he’s being a dick, but it’s like he can’t stop his own rage from spilling out sideways as yells:

“Well, if you don’t want to be here, then get out!”

“Stop it!” you cut him off, venom in your voice. 

Carmy looks at you, his bloodshot eyes wide with utter despair. 

“You called me, Carmy. So shut the fuck up and let me fucking help,” you lower your voice, bringing the confrontation between the two of you back down. 

With his eyes fixed to the floor, his mind zoning out to numb the pain, he manages to get out, “I don’t want to-. I need to go to work tonight.”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” you plead softly, yet firmly. 

“Yeah, well, you don’t get to make that decision,” he dismisses. 

He’s right. You don’t. 

“Yeah, okay,” you sigh, giving in. 

It’s a horrible idea – for Carmy to go into the restaurant – but you know he’s going to do it anyway. 

“What can I do for you in the meantime?”

“I just-, I don’t think I can be alone right now,” he mumbles, averting his eyes once again. “Can you just like… sit here with me? Till we gotta go?”

“Yeah.”

The afternoon passes slowly, and you feel like the both of you have been lit on fire – only a matter of time before you burn his whole place down. As you’re getting ready to leave, Carmy sprints into the bathroom, emptying what little contents he has in his stomach into the toilet. You’d been aware that he’d been having some trouble – throwing up before work – but he’d refused to see a doctor. Another decision he’d made clear wasn’t yours to make. What you weren’t aware of was that it had gotten this bad.

Like you’d imagined, going into the restaurant had been a mistake. It hadn’t taken long for Carmy to blow up at a line cook, mid-shift, over an undercooked duck breast. Sure, it was a big mistake, but Carmy had sent the line cook home after making a very public example of them. After the event, Tim had urged Carmy to take a break, offering to expedite for a few, while you rushed him into the walk-in. 

“Hey! You can’t do this shit. Not here. These people look up to you!” you chastise him. 

“He’s a fucking idiot! How do you undercook a fucking-,” Carmy yells, his face twisted into a look of disgust.  

“Carmy!” you shout, stopping him mid-sentence. 

You both know this is not about the duck breast. 

You share a moment of silence together, the cold of the walk-in leaving goosebumps on your skin. You lower your voice, a quiet and intentional demand leave your lips as you instruct:

“Listen, I’m going to give you five minutes to fuckin’ lose it in here, and then you’ve gotta pull it together and finish dinner service, okay?” 

He nods in response, his lips pressed together in a thin, tight line. You watch him pace a few times, before he clutches at his chest, his breathing becoming more uneven. 

This is why coming in had been the worst idea ever. 

“Carmy, are you o-?" you start, genuinely worried about him. You feel like your head is spinning. Carmy is losing control and all you can do is watch. 

He holds out a hand, as if to stop you from coming any closer, so reluctantly, you leave him to it, closing the door behind you. The sound of empty storage containers being thrown across the walk-in fills your ears, as you close the door to the walk-in behind you. You feel like your heart is caught in your throat and watching him go through this is more painful than you could’ve ever imagined. You take a deep breath before returning to your station, keeping your head down for the rest of the shift. 

Dinner service is pure chaos as Carmy undulates from unbroken focus to volatile and unpredictable throughout making the evening hell for the rest of you. The tension is thick, and it’s as if everyone is walking on eggshells around him, more so than normal. By the time it’s over, you insist on walking Carmy home. You make a stop at your favorite deli near his apartment to pick up a quart container of matzo ball soup on the way.

“You gotta eat something,” you encourage, the silence in his apartment deafening.

You’re met with silence as he stares blankly at the table in front of him, his spoon dipped into the soup. Instead, you sit with him, watching him take a few sips of the broth, while the actual food in the soup goes untouched. He doesn’t have the stomach for it. 

He doesn’t know if he has the stomach for this either. 

All of this. Any of this. 

You eventually give in, packing up the soup to put in the fridge for another day, even though you know he’ll probably just toss it when you leave. Just when you think it’s time for you to go, he stops you with the most tender touch to your arm, as he asks:

“Stay?” 

His eyes are watery, and although he’s going to let himself cry yet, he looks more vulnerable than he’s looked all day. How could you say no?

“Yeah,” you agree. 

You change into one of your favorite t-shirts of his and the pair of sweatpants that he always seems to give you as you get ready for bed. He doesn’t even wear them anymore, as if he knows they’ve become your favorite… as if they’ve just become yours. You spend the evening with the TV on, not talking, just sitting in each others’ company. You watch as he smokes a cigarette inside, stress-running a hand through his slicked back hair from his shift earlier. 

Tonight feels heavy. 

Tonight is heavy. 

Before bed, you fill up a glass of water for him, before placing it on his bedside table. Carmy lays on his back, staring up at the ceiling, as you crawl into bed with him. 

He’s too afraid to his close his eye, because if he closes his eyes he’ll picture it: the State Street bridge, Michael…. 

How could he? he thinks to himself, the bitter taste of betrayal welling up at the bottom of his throat. 

You close your eyes, trying your best to fall asleep next to Carmy – something that feels like an impossible task when you can practically hear him thinking out loud beside you. Instead, the two of you just lay there, frozen in silence. You’re not sure how long you’ve been doing it for when you feel Carmy shift closer to you. 

He turns to you so tenderly, practically folding himself into your body, earning the smallest gasp of surprise from you. You’ve never seen him like this as he buries his face into your chest, his body shaking against yours. It’s then that you realize he’s crying, and you know it’s highly likely that this is the first time he’s cried since he heard the news. 

“Carm?” you whisper, unsure if he wants you to acknowledge it or not. 

“Carmy.” 

But he doesn’t respond. He just cries. 

So you let him. 

“I’m so sorry, Carm. I’m so sorry,” you whisper, over and over again. 

You stroke his hair, wanting nothing more than to ease the pain of your best friend, but you know there isn’t much you can do. Instead, you let him cry, running your fingers along his scalp and through his delicate curls, desperate to give him any kind of comfort you can. This is breaking your heart. You fight the tears coming to your eyes because this is so not about you right now. 

Carmy’s body shakes against yours as he finally lets go, surrendering to the huge waves of pain and grief that crash and pull him under. He feels like he’s being taken under a riptide, never to see the surface again. He knows he’s been wildly unfair to you and as he weeps against your body and he’s not sure what he’s done to deserve someone like you. 

Someone who chooses to say, even when he’s being a dick. 

Someone who cares enough to fight with him. 

Someone who cares for him like this. 

When he finally looks up at you with bloodshot eyes and swollen lips, all he can think to do is to kiss you. 

It catches you off guard as he surges forward, pressing his lips against yours, that for a moment, you let him. 

But reality hits and you’re afraid he’s gotten too carried away, swept up in a moment of grief. 

“Carmy, stop it. You’re not-, you’re not okay right now,” you murmur, pushing him away.

He leans his head against your chest again with a sigh, letting out another sob, almost as if he’s given up on the idea. You feel like he’s put you in an impossible position. You’d have been lying if you said you didn’t want to – hadn’t thought about kissing him before – but this felt wrong. He was vulnerable, and you know you’ll both regret it in the morning. 

“I’m sorry, Carm,” you apologize quietly. “I just feel like-, well I’d feel like I'd be taking advantage. I don’t think we should.”

His silence only makes you more nervous, beginning to over explain yourself.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I-, I do. I just… I don’t want you to regret it because… because you’re upset right now and cause you more-.”

“Please,” is all he says, cutting you off mid-sentence. With the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the sun, the moon, and you hang the stars, you’re not sure how to say no. 

Carmy leans in to kiss you once more before whispering mere inches away from your lips:

“Please.”

He presses his lips against yours again, immediately regretting his past self for not doing this sooner. He’s never tasted anything sweeter than you, and the way you kiss him back seems to bring all thoughts flooding his brain to a halt.

In between kisses you manage enough self control to stammer out, “Are you- are you sure? Is this really what you-?”

“Yes,” he replies, as if it’s a declaration.

“I’ve wanted this for so long. Just-, please,” he pleads, murmuring your name into the soft kisses he begins to leave across your collarbone. “Just wanna feel good.”

“Just wanna feel good,” he repeats. 

You surrender, letting go of your own ambivalence as you focus on the way his lips feel against your skin. It’s then that you realize what absolute fucking idiots the two of you had been for the past few years by ignoring this thing between the two of you. For a moment, you’ll tear down the walls, the rigid boundaries that you’ve kept to help you compartmentalize your relationship with Carmy. 

There’s no possibility of hiding from it when his body feels this good so close to yours. 

The truth is that you are fully, wholly, and stupidly in love with each other. 

“Yes,” you parrot.

With your confirmation, his mouth is back on yours, as you’re pulling him on top of you, deeper into your shared passionate liplock. He wonders why he’s denied himself the pleasure of having you, for this goddamn long. His tongue slides against yours, a tender hand moving up to cup your face. The way his name sounds tumbling out of your mouth sends him into a frenzy. It feels absolutely intoxicating and he can’t get enough. 

Carmy’s hands begin to wander, fingertips sliding at an experimental pace underneath the hem of the t-shirt you’re wearing. You shudder against his touch, gasping as you anticipate where this is going. 

Carmy raises his head to look at you, not sure if it’s a good thing or not. 

“This okay?” he asks you, concern evident in his voice. 

“Yeah,” you nod, giving him permission. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he whispers.

And then he’s kissing you again, dragging calloused fingertips up and down your torso underneath the shirt, hesitantly making their way to where they’d like to be. You’re not wearing a bra, he realizes, as his fingertips find soft, supple skin at the rounded bottom of your breast. He follows the shape of it, before bringing a cautious palm up to grab hold of the fullness of your breast. You arch into his touch, encouraging him further. Carmy takes his time exploring your body, giving you the lightest touch as his fingertips graze your nipple. 

“Can I take this off?” he questions, only willing to move forward if you say yes.

You nod, breathlessly, “Please.”

You watch as he sits up, pushing the hem of your shirt up over your breasts, revealing your bare body to him. He has to hold back a groan, swallowing hard. 

Carmy stops what he’s doing, in pure awe of you, as he marvels at you. He can’t believe this is real: that you’re here, laying in his bed, allowing him to do the things he thought could only live in his head. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” are the words that tumble out of his mouth and you think you may cry. 

“Touch me,” you whisper desperately, begging him to come back to you. 

“Touch me, Carmy.”

Carmy lays his body over yours, and you spread your legs wider, allowing him to fit perfectly between them. He begins to roll his hips against yours as he returns his attention back to your bare breasts. He drags his fingertips over your erect nipples, following his touch with his mouth. 

He practically groans as he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, earning a strangled whine from you as his hot, wet mouth engulfs you. 

“Carmy,” you moan, arching into him. 

He’s rolling his hips against your clothed core on pure instinct, as he takes his time, now exploring unfamiliar territory with his lips and his tongue. You find a good rhythm as he continues to drag his mouth over you, grinding your hips into his underneath your remaining clothes. He’s surprisingly good at this – something you hadn’t expected considering he’d let you know he didn’t have much experience when it came to dating. You assumed that that meant sexually as well. 

As Carmy moves to your other breast, you feel one of his hands snake under the elastic waistband of your sweatpants, lifting his hips so he can feel you. You know you’ve soaked through your cotton panties from the anticipation, and it goes right to his dick as he feels just how wet you are. He doesn’t have much experience with this, but he’s seen in porn. He begins to rub circles across your clothed core, while he busies his mouth with exploring your other breast. 

But he’s not quite where you want him.

“Wait,” you say, stopping him. 

Had he just gotten caught up in the moment?

Did you not want to go this far?

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks you, a concerned tone in his voice. 

“No,” you’re quick to reassure him, shaking your head. “No, I just-.”

Instead of explaining, you reach down to grab his hand, guiding him just a little higher up to your clit. He presses the rough pad of his index finger against it, finally touching you where you need him, gasping to let him know that he’s found the right spot. His eyes are locked on you, watching your face change as the new spot you’ve shown him brings you more pleasure than he could’ve imagined. 

He practically groans into your mouth when he hears the way you whine his name, and he swears he’ll do anything to hear you say it again. 

“There?” he asks you, rubbing tight circles across your clit. 

“Yes,” you pant, growing wetter with every touch. 

Carmy pulls away just for a moment, daring to touch you underneath your panties. You’re so wet for him, and he thinks he may lose his mind as he slides his index finger in between your folds curiously.

“Take them off,” you practically demand. 

“Hm?” he hums, lost in the way you look at him with hooded lids and pupils blown out with pure desire. 

He’s never been this guy. 

The guy that gets the girl. 

He never knew he could feel like this guy, but here you are, begging him to undress you. 

“I said take them off,” you repeat yourself, more desperate this time. You take a lighter approach with what you say next, the smallest giggle in your voice. “And while you’re at it, we gotta get you naked too.” 

“Yeah,” he says, with the kind of conviction he’d say ‘heard’ with. 

He’s stripping off his shirt, and you’re sliding your pants and underwear off with him. 

“I have a condom in my emergency kit,” you say, the both of you busy shedding your clothes. 

“Yeah?” he asks you, relieved to hear it. He hadn’t thought that far yet. 

“Yeah, hold on,” you reply, getting up from the bed. 

Carmy thinks he may pass out as he watches you stand, giving him a full view of your naked body. You disappear only for a moment, before returning with the small emergency kit you always keep in your backpack. It’s equipped with all the ‘just-in-cases:’ tampons, panty liners, safety pins… condoms. You pull out a single condom before returning to the bed. Carmy’s kneeling on the bed, and you mirror his body language, doing the same. 

“What would you like to do?” you inquire softly. 

As turned on and hot for him as you are, you want to make sure that he still wants to do this. He finds himself surprised at your question, not sure how to answer it. 

“Think we can just pick up where we left off?” he asks you. 

“Yeah,” you reply. 

You place the condom down beside you on the bed, before leaning in to press your lips against his again. He inhales as you kiss him, his tongue immediately sliding against yours as one of his hands goes to the back of your head, pulling you closer to him. He’s surprised as you pull away from him, beginning to leave hot, open mouthed kisses down his neck, his chest, and he hisses in anticipation as run your hands down his muscular abdomen, following with your mouth. 

“Hold on, I uh-,” he stutters out, as he anticipates where you’re going with this. 

You pause, sitting up tall as you kneel, your body across from his. 

“I just uh… if you do that, I don’t know if I’ll last long,” he admits, a blush running across his cheeks. 

“Yeah, no. Totally cool,” you reassure him, before crashing your lips against his once again. 

As you tangle your tongues together once again, Carmy begins to lead you down towards the bed, pushing you back, and climbing on top of you. He still has his sweatpants on, so you begin to bring your hands down to them. He hisses as you cup his rock hard erection, pleasantly surprised by what you feel. 

“Wanna take these off?” you ask in between kisses. 

“Yeah,” Carmy nods, sitting up for a moment. 

You wait with baited breath as he strips his sweatpants off, wondering if he’s as thick as he feels. You’re practically pulsing, squeezing around nothing as you finally see him, Carmy, your best friend, fully naked. 

God, he’s beautiful. 

How had you not noticed how physically attractive he was? 

It’s not that you hadn’t noticed. It’s that you hadn’t let yourself think about it. 

You reach over to where you left the condom, handing it to him. Carmy takes it, a blush running across his cheeks as he rolls it on, still in disbelief that you’re about to do this. He returns to you, laying his body over top of you as you space for him once again between your legs. He’s hesitant to give you his full bodyweight as he gives you a long, passionate kiss. And before he knows it, you’re reaching down to stroke him, and he’s thrusting into your hand, his breath becoming heavier and heavier. 

You feel him as he presses his tip against you, rubbing it up and down before pushing into you. You both gasp as he gives you shallow thrusts, testing the waters, thrusting deeper into you with each one.

He pauses, exhaling as he’s fully inside of you. You’re pulsing around him, practically causing him to lose his mind with the way you feel alone.

“Fffffuck, you feel good,” he moans, trying not to cum right then and there. 

He begins giving you shallow, hesitant thrusts, unsure of himself. He wants to make you feel good. And he’s also terrified that this is going to end before it’s even properly started. 

Carmy stops again, pausing within you. 

“Sorry, I just-.” 

“No, it’s okay. Take your time.”

He’s nervous. You can tell he’s nervous and that he’s trying not to cum. 

“How about… I take control?” you suggest, hesitantly. “And that way, if you need me to stop we can um… well, you can just tell me.”

“Uh… yeah,” he agrees with a nod. “Sure.” 

Clumsily, the two of you switch positions, making sure he knows you’re okay with this. As he lies on his back, staring up at you, you straddle his hips, giving him the smallest smile. You reach down, guiding him into you once again. You gasp as he fills you, his thick cock stretching you, especially in this position. Carmy’s hands go to your hips as he watches you take him. 

“You feel really good too, Carm,” you finally say, your hands moving to his chest to brace yourself as you begin shifting your hips forward and back at the most unbearably slow pace. 

Carmy thinks he must be dreaming as he watches you ride him. His hands slide over your hips, wrapping around your body so that he can touch your butt. He’s practically digging the pads of his fingers into your hips as you begin moving over him at a faster pace. 

“Shit… you’re really good at this,” he groans, as you lean down to kiss him. 

You giggle against his lips, and whatever thoughts he has in his head disappear. Carmy begins thrusting up into you, his hands on your hips encouraging you to move a little faster as you kiss him. You’re moaning his name, whining as you feel every single inch of his cock slide against your walls, becoming more and more breathless by the minute. Your gasps turn into moans, getting higher in pitch as you go. His hands are guiding your hips, taking some control back as you grind against each other. 

“Carmy,” you cry out as he thrusts his hips hard into you. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum.” 

“Yeah?” he asks. You nod, breathless, as you bury your face into his chest. 

He holds your hips down, pinning you down against him as pushing his hips into yours. 

“You wanna switch?” he asks, breathless. “Can I-?” 

“Please,” you reply eagerly.

You switch positions once more, and as Carmy guides himself into you again, you can tell he’s much more confident than last time you’d found yourself in this position. You wrap a leg around his waist and he holds you there, beginning to move his hips against yours again. He works his way up to a rapid pace, his face turning red as he does, and you’re writhing underneath his body, whispering the dirtiest things into his ear with every single thrust.

“Holy shit, Carmy. You feel so goddamn good too,” you praise him. “God, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Yeah?” he manages to get out in between grunts. 

“Yes. Please let me cum,” you beg him, as he hits that spot inside of you, earning another loud cry. 

“Don’t stop.”

He’s surprised to learn that he likes it when you beg as he tangles his fingers with yours, pinning you down so that he can fuck you. With your hand in his, so close to your climax, you let slip:

“I thought about this too. I’ve wanted this for so long too, Carmy.”

“Fuck,” he howls as he drives into you, his sole purpose to earn more praise from you. To hear you cry out his name. To give you what you’ve been begging for. 

You angle your hips upward so that he can go even deeper, hitting all the way to the back of you. You’re grasping at his back, his arms, his biceps, hanging onto any piece of him that you can as he shudders, letting out the most guttural sounds. You’re squeezing around him, as he takes you to your high. The feeling of you cumming, squeezing around him like your life depends on it drive him wild, and he’s fucking you through it, the feeling of your orgasm bringing him to his. 

As you finally come down, you pull Carmy in for a searing kiss. 

“Holy shit, Carm,” you say, breathlessly. 

“Yeah,” he pants against your lips. 

Even if just for tonight, all feels right in the world. 

This feels right. 

*

The light of day is sobering. Before Carmy’s even had a chance to open his eyes, the events of the day before come flooding in, running in vicious circles around his mind: the phone call from Sugar, Richie screaming at him… and then…. 

Fuck. 

He’d crossed the line with you. 

He doesn’t know whether to be mad at himself or devastated that he fucked up, considering he’s sure as hell not going to let himself feel anything about Mikey yet. 

Michael. 

Michael’s dead. 

And he might’ve done the one thing he swore he wouldn’t do – the one thing that he’d been afraid of: that he might just lose you. 

As you stir in bed next to him, slowly blinking your eyes open, you turn over on your side. Carmy’s sitting on the edge of the bed and you can see Carmy’s stuck in his head. While you’d let yourself surrender to whatever that was last night, you knew today was different. 

“Hey,” is all you say, hugging Carmy’s bed sheets closer to your naked body. 

“Um… listen. We don’t have to-,” you begin, searching for the right words. “Let’s just forget about this, okay? I don’t-. You’ve got a lot going right now and-.”

You take a breath. You know the two of you can’t be together right now, even after your revelation last night. 

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Carmy swallows, fighting back the emotions that begin to swell in his chest. 

He feels sick to his stomach. 

But he doesn’t want to do this in front of you. 

“Yeah, no. We can… we can just forget it,” is all he gets out, his eyes fixed on the floor. 

“You sure?” you question. 

He takes a beat before answering:

“I don’t want to lose you either.” 

And even with the declaration you’d made – the promise to forget since neither of you could afford to lose each other – things had become different. In the weeks following, your communications with Carmy were less than normal. While you understood he was processing, grieving, he’d withdrawn from you, and it hurt more than you had the words for. 

You’d check in, making sure he knew you were here for him if he needed to talk. But he put his head down, working night after night at the restaurant, cold, stoic, and checked out. You worried about him. And you also knew that you both needed some space from each other. 

Some days you regret it – sleeping together – and other days, you don’t. You think that maybe everyone had been right about the two of you all along – that this had been inevitable. But it happened under the worst timing, the worst circumstances and you miss your best friend. You wish, in some ways, that two of you could just go back to normal.

read: chapter five

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos @blue-weekends @rexorangecouny @ridingthehotmessexpress @the-nursery

[foreverdolly]

𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 |80's mechanic!austin x best friend!reader

summary: it's starting to look like he might never make it out of the friend zone. austin has been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and he's terrified that you'll never see him as anything more than a best friend and protector. with the fear of you one day outgrowing him fresh on his mind, he's now hell bent on getting you to view him in a different light. madly in love and terrified to lose you, austin butler is playing for keeps.

pairings: 80s mechanic! austin x childhood best friend!reader

word count: 4.8k

notes/warnings: SMUT! in part two, virgin!austin. . . need i say more?, i love pining and this fic is testament to that, shaky/hurried hands, who doesn't love a good best friends to lovers fic, he has a deep southern accent, austin is the small town's metalhead and he's swelteringly hot without even trying. (this is going to have to be two parts because it turned out too long after editing. the smut alone is like. . . five pages on google docs.)

The incessant metallic clinging and loud mechanic whirs echoed against the cement flooring of the auto body garage. The sun was peeking just over the trees right outside the open garage doors, the spring sky slowly burning gold and pink. Most of the men were rushing to finish up with the vehicles that they were working on, eager to get home to their families after a long day of work. There was one mechanic though -who might be young, but made up for it with skill- was still elbow deep under the car’s hood, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. He’d only been looking at the car for five minutes and knew exactly what was wrong with it. The elderly woman had gotten her car towed all the way to Travis’ shop after the damn thing stalled out in the middle of the Winn-Dixie parking lot. The young mechanic could see her through the lobby’s windows watching him, her tiny wrinkly hands balled up into nervous fists.

“Aye- Austin?” Travis jogged right up to Austin, placing his hand down on one of the side mirrors as he waited for the diagnosis. 

“It’s not the engine. The transmission,” He pointed towards the old hunk of junk, leaning his head back under the hood to show his boss. “It’s completely shot. She said it will jerk when she accelerates and the wheel will sometimes shake when she’s goin’ fast enough. What’s happening is that it’s slippin’. The damn thing won’t stay in gear. This car is ten years out of date- I mean. . . It's a ‘74. So even if we order the parts-” 

“It’s gonna cost more to fix than it would be for her to just buy a whole new one.” The boss finished for him, sighing when he saw Austin nod his head in agreement. 

The long haired blonde blinked his eyes against the burning sunset, shooing a gnat away from his face as he leaned his hip against the car. He crossed one booted foot over the other as he waited patiently for the man to make a decision. While Travis enjoyed making money, Austin knew that the bastard was above stealing it from little old ladies. With a small huff of defeat the middle aged man began walking back in the direction of the lobby, most likely to break the bad news. He stopped just before he opened the door, pointing a quick finger-gun in Austin’s direction. 

“Are you comin’ over to Mark’s cookout tonight? You can bring your girl.” He called out over the loud noise. 

Austin shook his head before flashing the man a little face of distaste. 

“I’ve gotta go to my dad’s house to grab some of my old shit. Besides- I don’t have a girl to bring.” 

Travis shot him “a face” right back, but one of disbelief. “Yeah, right. A girl doesn’t just bring her friend a hand packed lunch every other day unless she was hopin’ for somethin’ to happen between them..” And before Austin could even defend himself the man was gone, sauntering solemnly over to the corner where the elderly woman was sitting. 

You weren’t the one that was hoping for a chance at romance, but Austin was. He’d rather die than admit it, but his co-workers' words lit a small fire in his chest; a hopeful pyre that didn’t dim. 

The wooden stairs were old and weather worn, the nails rusted with age. Austin always felt a sense of dread when he heard the familiar creaking under his feet, and the fact that he could hear the television droning on from inside of the trailer didn’t make it any better. It meant that he was home, and the blonde knew what that meant. A fight was sure to ensue, and after the shitty day that he had at work, that was the last thing that he wanted to endure. He found that the door was unlocked, per usual. The inhabitant of the rickety death trap didn’t have anything worth stealing. 

“Why are you here?” The middle aged man looked terrible for his age, though Austin blamed that on the endless supply of alcohol and drugs that ran through the man’s system. 

Austin cleared his throat, closing the door behind him with a grimace. He didn’t want to be here, but there were still a few boxes back in his old room that he needed to grab. After that he’d be gone for good, or at least that’s what he told himself anyway. His no-good father was used to relying on other people to save the day, one of those people being his own son. 

He blamed his strong sense of duties on the fact that he was raised in the deep south. “Being a man” was hammered into his skull from the moment of his very conception. Taking care of your family, especially when they are unable to do it for themselves, was considered a must. Austin had always hated his father. In fact, he couldn’t remember a single time in his life when he had felt gratitude or love in any magnitude towards his father. Still, he was a man and needed to provide for his family. . . right? He didn’t want anyone to think less of him for abandoning his father. More than anything, he didn’t want the wrong kind of gossip ending up in the wrong people’s ears.

What was important to him now was getting the hell away from his abusive father. He was old enough to start thinking about what he wanted for himself in the future. He’d always craved companionship with a certain person. . . children were on his radar too. The last thing he wanted was for his druggie father to be in his own kid’s lives. 

The lanky man didn’t fit in the small home anymore, and he hadn’t for years. Both physically and emotionally, he had outgrown his prison many moons ago. He took a few seconds to look around the living room. Now that he wasn’t there to clean up after the grotesque man, the house smelled absolutely putrid. Austin’s nose wrinkled in disgust, eyes dancing along the empty beer cans and overflowing sink. 

“Jus’ gettin’ the last of my stuff.” Austin grumbled, his bulky black boots sticking to the dirty linoleum floors as he tried his best to breeze past the older man’s old recliner. 

A hand reached out, gripping at his wrist to stop him. Austin looked down, the muscles in his sharp jaw clicking as he held back the urge to rip himself out of the man’s reach. He knew that he was too big for the man to intimidate now, but his body still remembered the pain his father had put him through as a kid. 

“Ya talkin’ bout that toolbox?” The man’s voice was gravely, all thanks to the menthols he religiously smoked. Austin could smell the Miller Light and smoke coming off of him now. It was nauseating. 

The blonde ripped his eyes off of the man’s face, peeking off down the hall to see his old bedroom door wide open. He had locked it from the inside and crawled out the window the last time that he was here, taking the spare key with him. It was still tucked away safely in his wallet. His breathing stuttered when he realized that the doorknob had been taken off completely. 

“I need it for work. What did you do with it?” Austin tried to school the deep southern accent out of his voice. He got into the habit of doing that around his father from a young age, desperately wanting to seem as different from the old man as possible. 

“If that’s what yer here for, don’ bother. I sold it.” The young adult’s heart sank to his ass, and this time he didn’t hesitate in ripping his wrist out of the man’s hand. 

“To who? Where is it?” Austin questioned heatedly, staring daggers into the old man’s face. 

The sandy haired man was staring back at the television now, watching old reruns of some shitty old Western movie that must have come out in the sixties. He didn’t answer Austin, too drunk to care and too high to listen. 

“Dad!” Austin’s deep voice boomed, echoing around the filthy trailer. “Where the fuck did you take it? The pawn shop off’a Assembly Street?” That was where his father often sold stolen shit for a few extra bucks. 

That got the other man’s attention. He didn’t take kindly to being yelled and cursed at, especially not by his son. He could always deal it out, but refused to take it. Ray Butler had stopped beating on his son during his Junior year in highschool though, realizing that the boy was now bigger than him. Out of a cowardly fear for his own safety, he stuck to the emotional abuse instead, which only got worse once he didn’t have a true outlet for his frustrations. Austin bristled as he watched the old man glare up at him, taking a long swig from his beer before answering. 

“I took it to Keith’s. If ya needed it so bad, why the hell didn’t you take it with ya in the first place? It’s in my house, so I can do whatever the fuck I want with it.” It was surprising how coherent the man was, especially since he must have been drinking all day long. 

Austin’s father hadn’t had a job in the last seven years, but still managed to scrape by somehow. He was a petty thief whose criminal record stretched all the way back into his boyhood. He had raised the blonde to be the exact same way, but the only thing Austin had truly adopted from his “teachings” was a shared hatred for cops and a scrappy sort of resourcefulness. The other kids that he was forced to interact with at school were the ones that taught him how to fight. They enjoyed taking turns trying to beat the shit out of the town’s poor kid, but once he finally hit his growth spurt in the summer after sixth grade the roles were largely reversed. Nobody messed with him by the time that he had entered high school. He was feared by his peers and just as hated. 

The negative image that he had created served him well though. Not only had he made a name for himself, he had also gained the ability to protect his best friend, which was the only thing he really cared about. Getting the dog shit knocked out of him was one thing, but seeing boys and girls teasing her was a different story. He remembered storming into the girl’s bathroom during his junior year very vividly, yanking up one of popular blonde’s by the back of her shirt. 

“I’m a Butler, so don’t think that I’m above hittin’ a girl.” 

He’d constantly ask you if the bullying persisted even after that, but you always went out of your way to tell him that they had stopped their teasing. Austin was made fun of because he lived in a trailer that should have been condemned long since they originally moved in and barely had enough money to get school supplies every year, but you were picked on because you were perfect. It didn’t make any sense to him, but girls are strange creatures. You made good grades, was the nicest person he had ever met without even trying, and your natural good looks made matters even worse for you. Getting the mean girls to steer clear of you wasn’t the hard part, but keeping the male pervert’s away was an entirely different story. 

It didn’t help that after a long day of putting up with the constant glares, rumors, and telling boys to back off, he’d be forced to come home to incessant tongue lashings. He barely had time to study after taking care of the forty year old drunkard, hence his rotten grades in school. You could only do his homework for him so many times, but hey- you tried. He graduated because of you, at the very least. 

He had landed a job as a mechanic straight out of high school, having been skilled for his age. Who knew that driving a shitty lemon of a car that he constantly had to fix up would lead to a career? He had gotten lucky, which was a rarity in his life. 

Getting his own place was one hell of an achievement, but his past always found a way to come back and haunt him. 

Austin stormed through the connected kitchen and down the hall, sucking in a deep breath before he entered the room. All of the boxes that he had stacked in the corner had been ransacked and picked clean. It was Austin’s fault for thinking that a simple locked door would keep his father out. The blonde could scream over his stolen Iron Maiden and Dio tapes later, for now he needed to focus on the important thing: his tools. 

“You sold them to your crackhead dealer? For what? A bag, right? That was over a hundred dollars worth’a tools!” He screamed from the backroom, kicking an old wooden chair that had been junking up his old room for ages. The thing went flying, hitting the opposite wall with a resounding cracking noise. 

Austin was covered in car oil, smelled like gasoline and sweat after a long day of work, and all he had wanted was to slip in the trailer undetected and grab his things. He had hoped that his father would have been passed out in his room by now so that he could have been in and out without being forced to converse. Nothing ever seemed to go his way. The blonde reached for the metal baseball bat that he still had stuffed under his childhood bed, knocking it against his boot a few times before storming out of the room, pushing past his father and heading straight for the front door. 

“Austin, wait,” The male knew what was coming. The only time his father ever referred to him by his name was when he wanted something. “Can you give me twenty dollars? I need’a pay the power.” 

The baseball bat felt heavy in his hand. He balanced the weight for a second, his jaw clicking as he imagined just how good it would feel to bring it down on top of the other man’s head. If Ray ended up dead, he was sure that he could blame it on a handful of people who he had stolen from or cheated. Austin didn’t need that on his conscience though. So instead of barking back a reply or even pulling out his wallet, he yanked his hand away with a grunt, storming out the door. 

“Jus’ use the money that you got from sellin’ all’a my shit.” He called out before slamming the door behind him, the small and dingy diamond shaped window vibrating with the force of his anger. 

“Is your mama home? If not then I’m gonna use your shower.” Austin gently pushed his way into the house, kicking off his dirty work boots before bounding up the familiar carpeted stairs. 

You blinked in the entryway, slowly closing the front door before turning around to watch him go, the chain from his wallet jingling with his movement. With a small sigh you locked it behind you, following up after him. 

“Well hello to you too.” You teased, watching him open up the linen closet so that he could grab a towel. He was caked with grease, his sun kissed cheeks speckled with black and gray. His black work shirt fit snugly on his form, having shrunk in the wash. At his hip, swinging around with every step that he took, was his black handkerchief. It was also wrecked with engine grease, having been used to clean his hands one too many times that day. He looked devilishly handsome, but he always did. Nothing new. 

“Sorry. Really bad day. Just got back from Keith’s place- he had some of the shit that I left at my dad’s.” He left the bathroom door open as he slipped off his socks, then hurriedly took his shirt off and threw that into the dirty clothes hamper. His small apartment didn’t have a washer and dryer hookup, so he had been doing his laundry at your place for the last two months. 

You didn’t mind, and your mother and father hadn’t noticed either. You sucked at your teeth, turning around to give him privacy. You heard the shower turn on, then the familiar clanking of his chain wallet hitting the side of the sink. Once you heard the shower curtain open and close you turned around, seeing the room empty, his dirty clothes piled neatly in the hamper. You closed the bathroom door behind you as you stepped inside, jumping up on the counter so that you could swing your legs back and forth as you spoke. He seemed frustrated, and you could tell that he needed to talk about it. 

Growing up in a tragically tiny town meant that everybody was always in each other’s business. From preschool to your senior year in high school, every moment was spent with the same exact children. You could count the newer families to move into the small community over the last five years on one hand. Life was slow moving in the old south, and things were horrifically monotonous. You and the blonde had been stuck together like glue ever since primary school, and you didn’t see it changing in the future. 

To say that you knew Austin like the back of your hand was an understatement. Every flaw, quirk and triumph had either been discovered by you, with you at his side, or involved you in some way. In a town filled with mostly elderly folks, kids often found a group of likeminded people and stuck with them for the entirety of their lives. It was horribly predictable of the two of you, yet here you two were, connected at the hip. The bond between you and Austin went above just being best friends. It was something tied to your soul. It wasn’t just hard to imagine a life without him in it, rather it was impossible. 

He didn’t have to tell you that he was angry for you to know that he was beyond aggravated. The restlessness was plain to see. Whether he would be upfront and tell you about the reason or not, you could tell that he needed someone to just sit and listen. Austin wasn’t the kind of person to talk in depth about the things that really upset him. He was more of the “suffer in silence until I inevitably blow up” type. You, on the other hand, weren’t afraid to whine and cry to him about even the slightest of inconveniences. The two of you were polar opposites, and yet it just worked. 

“Keith let you in the house?” You asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow as you watched the steam beginning to curl up and over the curtain. 

Austin let out a humorless laugh, and you could imagine him shaking his head back and forth. You smiled despite the situation, bringing your hand up to your mouth so that you could bite down on your thumb nail. You instantly regretted it, pulling away to see that you had already chipped your freshly painted fingers. 

“A’course he didn’t. I broke into the fucker’s place. Got my tool box back, but the damn thing had been ransacked already. The bones picked clean. I’m out over fifty dollars in tools- checked it once I got back into the car.” 

“Jesus- did he see you? That guy is absolutely insane.” Thankfully, you’d only met the man in passing a handful of times. He was the crazy townee that everybody knew and feared. Keith was the kind of person that you point out to your developing teens to scare them away from drugs and alcohol. “If you don’t want to end up like Ole’ Keith, you better not touch that stuff.” He had a bunch of handmade signs outside of his house with bible scriptures on them, meanwhile the man was dealing meth and coke to make a living. As was the deep south, filled to the brim with religious and moral hypocrisies. 

Either you were a devout Christian or just another local crackhead. Thankfully, you and Austin didn’t fall into either of those categories. You seemed to have made one of your own over the years. 

“He wasn’t home. His truck was gone. The dude left his bedroom window unlocked, so I just ripped the screen off.” 

You used to worry for Austin on a daily basis. The burns and bruises he’d come to school with broke your heart, but no matter how many times you begged your parents to let the blonde come and live with you, they always let you down. You were happy that he finally had somewhere safe to lay his head at night, though he still hadn’t broken the habit of spending most of his down time with you (and you prayed he wouldn’t ever grow out of that habit). As soon as he got off work he was making his way up to your bedroom, often dead tired down to his bones or pissed off. Your parents were gone most of the time anyway though. Your father was a hotshot business man who was away for work most of the time, and your mother insisted on following along with him after the “incident” that happened when you were twelve.

Men who spend most days without their wives and children breathing down their neck usually take advantage of the opportunity. Your father was no different. He was no saint. Then again, neither was your mother. She took most of her frustration out on you after that, and though you knew that her outbursts weren’t a direct cause of anything that you had personally done, that didn’t make it any better. 

Austin was just as much your therapist as you were his. Maybe that was the cause for your codependency. . . either way, neither of you regretted it. It only strengthened the bond, really. 

After Austin was showered and dressed in an outfit that he had left at your house some weeks ago, the two of you found yourselves sprawled out on your bed. You were busy finishing up some homework for one of your classes, and he was reading one of your magazines. He had his head hanging off the side of the mattress, ankles crossed up on one of your pillows. His wet hair was dripping onto your floor. The constant droplets hitting your outdated shag carpet lulled the two of you into a comfortable silence. The two of you didn’t need to talk 

“Where’s a newer one? This one’s a year old.” He suddenly dropped what he was reading onto the floor next to his head, sitting up so that he could face you again. 

You scrunched up your nose, dropping your psychology textbook beside you. 

“That is the newer one.” You told him, to which he scooped it up and off of the floor, turning it over and pointing at the date. 

He was right. It was old. 

It was the June twenty-first issue, the date clear to see on the front: nineteen eighty-four. Bob Dylan was posed on the front in all of his tambourine-man glory. 

“Shit. Sorry, Aus. I thought I handed you the Beatles Anniversary edition.” You started to stand up, but he waved you off. 

“I should probably get going anyway. I have to try to cook myself something. If I don’t eat now then I’ll jus’ go to bed hungry.” 

You had hoped that the two of you could order pizza tonight, but you kept your mouth shut. Lately you found yourself clinging to him a little bit harder than usual. Maybe it was the stress of your sophomore year in college, but you couldn’t be certain. You tried to school the disappointment off of your face as you nodded, standing up to walk him back to the front door. 

“Are we still driving down to see Dave’s show? His band sucks, but he’ll be disappointed if we miss it.” He asked you at the front door, shoving his sock clad feet into his work boots and tying them up haphazardly. 

You slapped your forehead with the palm of your hand, eyes wide. You’d completely forgotten about your friend’s show tomorrow. You’d planned to stay after class and study in the library, but you didn’t mind cramming for next week's test. Austin laughed, the sound causing you to smile to yourself. His laugh was deep, rich and completely contagious. He reached out, his large hand wrapping around your wrist to pull your hand away from your face. 

“You forgot, didn’t you?” He leaned down so that he was at your height, his smile practically blinding. 

You sucked in a breath, but nodded your head anyway. It was hard not to notice his beauty in moments like this. He’d always been handsome, but lately you’d been looking a little too closely at that. A sick twinge of guilt soured your stomach, a feeling of what could only be categorized as “betrayal” causing your face to flush. He was your best friend, and if he knew that you were looking at him like that he would probably be disgusted with you. Hell, you were horrified by your own thoughts recently. You tried to blame the odd feelings on your long-standing lack of romance, but you were starting to believe that was just an excuse.

“I completely forgot.” And you felt bad about it. You’d been so busy with your school work, the recent fight that you had with your mother and. . . well. . . Austin. You cleared your throat softly, kicking at an imaginary pebble on the tiled floor to try and distract yourself. 

Austin seemed to notice the change in attitude and put his hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair in the way that he knew you despised. He chuckled when you slapped his hand away, instead moving his hand to the base of your neck so that he could pull your much smaller form against his in a tight hug. He’d always been lean and tall, but his physically demanding job had caused his muscles to fill out. He felt warm and strong, smelling of your shampoo. 

“I’ll drive us tomorrow, alright? Maybe you can get some studying done in the car.” And with that he removed his arms from around you. 

You felt the loss of his warmth like a slap in the face. You let him go though, watching as he bounded down the steps towards his van, his keys jingling in his hand with the movement. He was in higher spirits after spending a few hours in your presence. He felt lighter, like some of the crushing weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. You leaned against the doorframe, peeking your head out just to watch him. 

“I love you! Drive home safe, alright?” You called out. 

Austin couldn’t fight off the blush that raised to his ears, but he turned around and quickly returned the sentiment. You had told him that you loved him every day, but his heart still pounded like it had the very first time. Only these days he wished that you really meant it. 

That you loved him the same way that he loved you. 

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 58

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

The Value of a Moment by @a-fools-errand

When Lance’s previously obsolete skills in language suddenly become very useful, he finds himself wondering why aliens can’t account for the fact that humans, particularly him, need sleep and would prefer linear timelines. (Or: an Arrival AU because I love that movie)

yall OBSESSED does not begin to cover it. i have never read a fic where lance was so goddamn cool. and in like. the insanest of ways?? like of course lance is a polyglot but THIS....this is a whole new level. i havent even finished it fully yet but like god this thing is so fucking cool. if ur looking for a longfic stop looking

2. Rest Stop by @flaming-potato-arsonarson

Lance wasn't like the rest of the world. And he had never had a loving mother tell him it made him stronger for it. So he told himself, gathering up his courage and grit to face a world of winged humanity, when he, in fact, has no wings and turns into a mermaid instead. A world that wants him to die. So he'd keep this secret like a knife in his boot, a sharp weapon until he died on his own terms. Not because of who he was. Except, Team Voltron isn't so sure why Lance is all rough edges and sharp points about showing off his wings. Or acting like a member of the Flock in general. It's clear he cares for them, but he's never shown an intimate part of him. Until he has to.

oh god this has gotta be one of my CLASSIC fics. read it a few dozen times. i read it right when it came out, six ish years ago (goddamn), i can remember curling up in my old bunk bad and eating this up as the hours ticked by. i was HOOKED. my jaw was dropped my eyes were glued. could not get enough. if youre looking for mermaid lance with a twist....brother this is it

3. Looking for Rain by @thewriter2

Like most things, it starts with the little things: his smile, his confidence, his talent. Eventually, all these little things add up to one big thing that threatens to crash over them like a heavy rain. But, maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing. Maybe something beautiful would come from it. A 5+1 (really a 10+1) of Lance and Keith falling in love.

oh god guys..... @thewriter2 knows how to fucking haunt you. if a 10+1 (!!) isnt enough for you, i want you to know this line has been echoing in my head since i first read: "He looks at you like you’re a storm and he’s a desert desperate to drown." UM??? EXCUSE ME???? SIMILE OF ALL TIME ACTUALLY???? keith being so so visibly obviously in love with lance is my actual roman empire shit never leaves my mind

4. Astronauts by @thewriter2

When they entered the Blue Lion, Keith was Lance’s rival--the person Lance was working so hard to surpass. But slowly, Lance found himself thinking of Keith less as a rival and more as something close to a friend. So of course, Lance’s traitor of a heart decided that it would be Lance’s kind of friend that it would fall in love with.

tags to sell you: "keith is a dork but lance loves him anyway" (dorky keith my beloved), "hunk is an a+ friend" (yes he is), "lance is a lovesick fool" (yeah), and "allura is older sister goals" yes yes YES you get it. and like....while keith pov is my favourite to write by far, lances pov as he realises he is in love....that will always hold such a special special place in my heart

5. his own worth by frogsterz

In the middle of the conversation, Lance stops talking and no one notices. It’s not like he had been leading the conversation, for he hadn’t been, but somehow the fact that his lack of input or opinion isn’t noticed tightens the grip loneliness has on his heart. He looks down at his food, his face burning, his throat tightening up.

now usually anything but team as family isnt my deal. im not big on classic langst. but keith as a knight in shining armour.....what can i say i am weak willed. deeply. also " It’s what made it worse. I miss home and I miss being held and the rain, and I loved you. I thought you hated me." got me so bad got me WEAK like i have never recovered from that line and i doubt i ever will

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[qqueenofhades]

I just read an article on The Conversation that states: "Today, most data has Trump narrowly beating Biden in the national popular vote, albeit within the statistical margin of error." (Source for that data: https://projects.fivethirtyeight.com/polls/president-general/)

In your opinion, is that true? How can that be possible after everything Trump has done? After the Insurrection? I'm terrified 😕

(For reference, the original article can be found at https://theconversation.com/five-reasons-why-trumps-republican-opponents-were-never-going-to-beat-him-223288?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=The%20Weekend%20Conversation%20-%202888329325&utm_content=The%20Weekend%20Conversation%20-%202888329325+CID_fceedfd21410eb8a7b6fd6e1124d9d54&utm_source=campaign_monitor_uk&utm_term=five%20reasons)

Short answer: no, I don't think it's true.

Long answer: no, I really don't think it's true. Here's why.

Broader context. A Republican has won the popular presidential vote only twice in the 21st century, and in the first of those occasions -- 2000 -- I use "won" very advisedly. We all know, or at least we should, about all the fuckery that went down in Florida with Bush vs. Gore and SCOTUS stepping in to stop the recount (which almost surely would have gone to Gore) and handing Florida, and thus the presidency, to George Dubya Bush by a mere 537 votes. Dubya then did win re-election and the popular vote/EC in 2004, in the throes of patriotic war fervor and the GOP's Swiftboating of John Kerry (who was a pretty terrible candidate to start with). Other than that? None. Zip. Nada. None. Even in 2016 when Trump squeaked out a win (and thus the presidency) in the Electoral College, he lost nationwide to HRC by over 3 million votes. He lost to Biden by 7 million votes nationwide last time. Also, the reason the GOP loves the antidemocratic Electoral College is that it always works in their favor, and because red states with relatively scant population are given the same power in the Senate. That's why California, with 40+ million people, gets two (Democratic) senators, and Wyoming, with 400,000 people, gets two (Republican) senators. There is just no way that red states can get the actual raw numbers to win the popular vote against heavily blue urban population centers. The only one that comes close is Texas, and while it's something of a white whale for Democrats who think fondly that it'll surely turn blue this election cycle (and then it doesn't), it's not giving all its votes popular-vote-wise to Republicans. So yeah. The numbers aren't there. Biden is about 99% certain to win the popular vote, but because this is America, the question is whether the EC will follow.

(Although, I gotta say. In the deeply unlikely event that Biden loses the popular vote but wins the Electoral College -- i.e. the exact same thing Trump did in 2016 -- the right wing would lose their fucking minds and it would be incredibly hilarious. Also, we might finally get some red states willing to sign up to the National Popular Vote Compact, which is just a few ratifications away from going into effect. As noted, the Republicans will cling onto the Electoral College with their last dying breath because it's the only thing that makes them competitive in nationwide elections. If it fucked Trump, they might finally listen to ideas about changing it.)

The media are incredibly biased, and so is Nate Silver. Silver first rose to prominence as an independent geeky Data Guy elections whiz-kid, and was relatively good at being unbiased. That is not the case anymore. He's now affiliated with the New York Times and has started echoing the smugly anti-Biden framework of both that paper and the mainstream media in general. I'm not necessarily saying his data is total bunk, but he's extremely eager to frame, narrate, and explain it in ways that artificially disadvantage Biden (in the same way the NYT itself is all in on "BUT HIS AGEEEEE," just as they were with "BUT HER EEEEEEMAILS" in 2016) And that's a problem, because:

The polls are shit. Like, really, really shit. Didn't we just go through this in 2022, where everyone howled about how All The Data pointed to a Red Wave and then were /shocked pikachu face when this was nothing more than a Red Dribble of Piss (and frankly, the best midterm election result for the ruling party since like, the 1930s?) We've also had major, real-time proof that the polls are showing a consistent pro-Trump bias of 10 or more points, which is a huge error and keeps getting corrected whenever people actually vote, but the media will never admit that, because TRUMP IS WINNING WE ARE ALL DOOMZED!! We heard about how Biden might lose New Hampshire because he wasn't even on the ballot and that would be a critical embarrassment for him. He cruised easily with 68% (all write-in votes and FAR more than any other Democratic "candidate.") Meanwhile, Trump won New Hampshire by about 15% under what the polls had predicted for him (after doing the same and barely squeaking over 50% in Iowa, one of the whitest, most rural, most Trump-loving states in the nation). The number ballparked for Biden in the NV Democratic primary was something like 75%; he got over 90% (and twice as many votes as any candidate in the Republican Primary/Caucus/Whatever That Mess Was). The number for what he was supposed to get in the SC primary was in the high 60% (driven by the media's other favorite "Black voters are abandoning Biden" canard); he absolutely crushed it at 97% statewide. When Biden is winning by whopping margins and Trump is underperforming badly, in both cases by gaps of ten percent or more, it means the polls are simply not showing us an accurate state of the race. This could be because of media bias, bad data, selective polling, inability to actually connect with voters (especially young voters, who are about as likely to eat a live scorpion as to pick up an unsolicited phone call from an unknown number). This also shows up in:

Special elections. We've heard tons of Very Smart Punditry (derogatory) about how Democrats kicking ass in pretty much every competitive election since Roe was overturned in 2022 totally means nothing for the general election. (Of course, if the situation was reversed and Republicans were cleaning up at the same rate, we would be hearing nothing except how we're all destined for Eternal Trumpocracy... wait. no... we're still only hearing this. Weird.) In the last special election in early February, Democrat Tom Suozzi won back his old U.S House seat (NY-03) by over eight points, after polls had given him at most a two- or three-point edge. (Funnily, once again a Democrat did far better than the media is determined to insist, so Politico hilariously called a thumping eight-point win "edging it out.") This represents almost a 16-point blue swing from even just 2022, when The Congressman Possibly Known as George Santos won it by 7 points. On that same night, a Democratic candidate in a Trump +26 district in deep, deep red Oklahoma only lost by 5 points, marking another massive pro-blue swing. This has been the case in every special election since Roe went down. Apparently blah blah This Won't Translate to the General Election, because the media is very smart. Even when Democrats (historically hard to motivate and muster in off-year election cycles, or you know in general) are turning up in elections that don't involve Trump to punish terrible Trumpist policies, we're supposed to think they won't be motivated to actually vote against the guy himself? And not just them, because:

Trump is a terrible candidate. Which we know, and have always known, but now it's really true. We've had up to half of Haley voters stating they will vote for Biden over Trump if that is the November matchup (which it will be). Haley, amusingly, actually outraised Trump in January, because it turns out that the Trump Crime Family's open promise to send every single donor or RNC dollar to pay El Trumpo's legal fees hasn't been a terribly effective message. We had Republicans in NY-03 telling CNN that they voted for the Democrat Suozzi because they're so fed up with the GOP clown show in the House and don't think Republicans can govern (which uh. Yeah. Welcome to reality, we all knew that ages ago too). We have had up to a third of Republican voters saying they won't vote for Trump if he's convicted of a felony before the election (and technically he already has been, but we're still hoping for the January 6 trial to go ahead). Now, yes, Republicans are a notoriously cliquey bunch and might change their minds, but for all the endless bullshit BIDEN SHOULD STEP DOWN BECAUSE DEMOCRATS ARE DISUNITED narrative the media has been pushing like their kidnapped grandmothers' lives depend on it, Democrats aren't actually disunited at all. Instead, Trump is in chaos, the GOP is in chaos, sizeable chunks of Republican voters are ready to vote for someone else and in some cases have already done so, and yet, do we hear a peep about how Trump should step down? Nah. In related news, did you hear that Biden is old?!?! Why isn't anyone writing about this?!?!

Now, I want to make it clear: Trump's chances of winning are not zero, and they are not inconsiderable. We need to face that fact and deal with it accordingly. Large chunks of the country are still willing to vote for white Christian nationalist fascism. Trump still has plenty of diehard cultists and the entire establishment Republican party in his pocket, and it's been made very clear that Putin is bringing the full force of his malevolent Russian fascist machine to bear on this election as well. Case in point: we spent four years hearing about HUNTER BIDEN HUNTER BIDEN SECRET CORRUPTION GIANT SECRET BUSINESS SCANDAL, and it turns out that the GOP's "star informant" has been actively working with Russian spies the whole time and fed them complete bullshit disinformation, which they were eager to repeat so long as it might hurt Joe Biden. (And it would hurt Ukraine, so, twofer! I cannot emphasize enough how much it was all a deliberate collaboration by some of the worst people on earth.)

In 2016, people naively assumed that Trump could never win, and so they were especially willing to throw away, spoil, or otherwise not exercise their vote, or throw purity hissy fits over HRC (likewise fed at the toxic teat of Russian disinformation). That was exactly what allowed Trump to squeak out a win in the EC and put us in the mess we are currently in. If people act in the same way in 2024 that they did in 2016, Trump's chances of winning are drastically increased. So once again, as I keep saying, it's up to us. If we all vote blue, and we get our networks to vote blue, Biden is very likely to win. If we don't, he won't, and Trump will win. It's that simple. We had better decide what we're doing. The end.

[mediumgayitalian]

Blue, blue, blue eyes, wet and red-rimmed. White knuckles clenched around worn canvas. Salty cheeks and bitten-bruised lips.

“I’m running away.”

Echoes in a too-large room, quiet breathing in stale air. Freezing toes on marble floor. Struggling lamplight, gaunt shadows.

“Gimme a minute to pack a bag.”

———

“Shh,” Nico hisses, clamping a hand over Will’s mouth to muffle a shriek. A too-warm hand clutches his hip, scrambling for balance. The rickety wooden lattice creaks under their weight.

The freeze, for one, two, three seconds. Nico strains to hear, watching the crystal-clear, freshly-polished Jalousie window.

No light.

They let out their breath at the same time, Will’s exhale making Nico’s cold hands tingle. At Will’s glare, he removes his hand, wrapping it back around the rung.

“Be more careful, you clumsy fuck.”

“I’m trying!”

To his credit, he really is. He checks and double checks before putting his full weight on the lopsided strips of wood only meant to hold up vines. He doesn’t let go of the rung above him until his feet are firmly planted, and he doesn’t stray far enough from Nico that he couldn’t catch him. He knows the drill.

And, yet.

(Truly, Nico has no idea how he climbed up by himself.)

Thankfully, they make it to the soft lawn in one piece. Will stumbles into a hydrangea bush the second he lets go of the lattice. Nico lands with much more grace, snickering.

“This house hates me,” he whispers, pouting. There are several blue flower petals tangled in his hair; Nico decides not to tell him. “Like, actively.”

“You and me both.”

They sneak quickly across the lawn once Will’s upright again, booking it to Nico’s Jeep. Will takes their bags, tossing them in the back, then slides behind the massive, creepy gargoyle-thing that sits between the garage doors as Nico opens the driver’s door as quietly as physically possible. Once he’s seated, he glances over at Will, waiting for his signal — hand held up in wait, four seconds, five, six — then a rapid shooing motion, eyes trained at the security camera. Fast as he can, Nico shifts into neutral without starting the car, craning his neck to watch out the back window as he peels out of the driveway and onto the street. Once safely behind the massive pine tree that marks the edge of the property, he parks, turning the car on and wincing at the noise.

Two minutes later, Will comes barrelling down the driveway, nearly tripping over untied shoelaces.

“I fucked up, they totally saw me, go go go!”

Nico doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s in drive and racing down the empty street before Will has the door closed.

For a while, he lets their heart rates settle back into something normal. The headlights are dim, no streetlights to make anything brighter, and he squints through the windshield, tense. If a deer jumps out, they’re fucked.

“So,” he says, relaxing as they turn onto familiarly torn-up roads. No street lights here, either, but he knows the woods on either side of the road are a farce. Hardly more than a copse of trees — nothing but farmland for hundreds of acres. No risk of death by Cervidae, thank God. “Running away?”

“There’s a rest stop an hour east,” Will says instead of answering, face buried in a map. “We can sleep there and keep going in the morning.”

Go where, Nico wants to ask, but he knows better than that. There’s a tenseness to Will’s jaw, and something transparently pleading in his eyes.

“Okay,” he finally relents. Will’s obvious relief eases his discomfort. “You gotta direct me, though. And, I swear to God, if you get us lost again, Solace —”

And Will laughs, finally, and it’s small and stilted and there are still tears drying on his cheeks, but it’s real, and stars shine brighter, brighter, brighter.

The two hours to the rest stop pass quickly. Nico is used to long drives, and thankfully he’d filled up a couple days ago, so all he worries about is staying awake and watching for cops. There shouldn’t be any, really, because he’s been the only car on this road the entire time, but Nico isn’t going to chance it. Not again. (He doesn’t have Piper to talk them out of trouble, this time, although Will could possibly manage.) 

(Maybe.) 

(Well, never say never.)

“How prepared are we to run away?”

Will is quiet for several long, telling moments.

“Well,” he says finally, and Nico sighs. “I think there’s still blankets and pillows in the trunk from last time.”

“Christ alive, William.”

“It’s June! We’re – sheltered! We’ll be fine.”

“Christ alive, William.”

“Oh, can it.”

He bites his tongue, grinning. He doesn’t actually mind – it is June, and they have blankets, and their certainly not going to succumb to the elements in the Jeep. Will, too, is like a goddamn space heater; if anything, they’ll wake up in the morning with the windows fogged. 

“I suppose I’ll manage,” he says, watching with interest as a flash of bare skin as Will leans over the seat, sweatshirt riding up his arched back as he digs around for the blankets. He turns back right before Will does, huffing dramatically. “Since there are no other options.”

He fully expects the pillow to the face.

“You’re a dickhead.”

“Dickhead with a license and a vehicle, Sunny Boy, so maybe count your blessings.”

“...Lou Ellen has a car. So there.”

Nico snorts, thinking of the piece of shit Bug that broke down for the twelfth time this year in her driveway, earlier this week. Likely story.

“And, yet.”

“And, yet,” Will agrees, voice significantly softer. He’s fully burrowed in his blanket when Nico looks over; seat reclined as far as it’ll go so he can curl up, knees to chest, all six two of him compressed to something small, delicate. The pillow smushes half his face, and the blanket is pulled up to his nose, and Nico swallows, roughly, because his eyes are bright in the moonlight, and his hair fans, frizzy and damp, slightly, out onto the pillow, and Nico doesn’t need to be a poet to compare his freckled forehead to the starry sky. There is a fragility in him, one he keeps firmly locked inside the deepest parts of him, and as Nico watches it he can see it spilling, pouring, bleeding out of him. In the car, in the dark, in front of Nico. “Goodnight, Nico.”

“Goodnight,” Nico says hoarsely. 

By the time he gets the courage to look at Will again, his eyes are already closed, breaths slow and even.

———

“Neeks. Neeks. Nico. Hey, Thanatos. Anubis. Gerard Way. I got more, man, I made a list –”

“Will you stop fucking poking me,” Nico groans, peeking out from his blankets to glare at his aggressor. He regrets it immediately, hissing as the sun burns his retinae.

He can feel Will smiling. “Up and at ‘em, Sunshine. It’s road trip time.” He pauses. “And, also, I’m starving. I packed granola bars for us but I ate them all already. Sorry.”

“Fucker.” Reluctantly, he tugs the blanket fully off, sitting upright and stretching his arms above his head. His back cracks satisfyingly. “Don’t suppose you know where the nearest Dunkin’ is, then.”

“Uh, no.” He looks back to find Will’s eyes snapping back to his, face flushed. “We’re just outside of Arcadia, though? So. I’m. Sure there’s one –”

“Are you good?” Nico asks, squinting. “It’s too early for you to be a weirdo, Will, it’s only –” He checks his phone – “Oh, you motherfucker, it’s like six thirty in the morning! Why the hell are we awake?”

“Road trip!” he says. His face, no longer all screwed up and blotchy, returns to its usual blinding beam. 

Great. Now there are two things trying to blind him.

“C’mon, you dork,” Will says again, laughing. He tugs the blanket from Nico’s grip, tossing it haphazardly in the back and pestering him until he scowls, biting out a “Fine, you prick, Jesus,” and rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

He’s still not all the way awake, but he dutifully sits up, buckling his seat belt and starting the car. “Nav,” he mutters, tuning out Will’s chatter.

He loves the guy, but, fuck. It’s six thirty in the goddamned morning. He hasn’t seen six thirty in the morning in a long ass fucking time – even before he graduated at the end of May, he was late to homeroom every single day, without fail. Six thirty is an absurd time to be awake. 

“Left here, straight for a bit, and it’ll be on the corner.”

“You’re pointing to the right,” Nico says, patiently, not bothering to fight the smirk cropping up on his face. "Am I turning right?"

This, he’s used to.

“I meant right,” Will sulks. “...I said right in my brain.”

“Sure,” says Nico generously, grin widening.

“Fuck off.”

“What? You try very hard, Will. I’m very proud of you.”

“Choke.”

“Few more years, and you’ll be caught up to the kindergarteners.”

“That’s it, di Angelo –”

He laughs, batting away Will’s smacking hands. “Hey! Hey! No hitting the driver, do you want me to crash –”

By the time Will is done trying to beat him up, Nico has long spotted the sad-looking Dunkin’ Donuts, pulling into the empty parking lot and peering inside.

“Is it even open?��� he asks, frowning. The lights are on, but it looks…more soulless than usual, somehow.

“Yep,” Will chirps, clicking off his seatbelt. “The chain opens at five. There's a location in Omaha that's open at 4:30, but as far as their policy goes, five is go time.”

“Nerd.”

“It’s okay, Nico. I’ll stay friends with you even if you get dumber than you already are.”

He grins wickedly. “Least I know my lefts and rights.”

He cackles when Will slams the door, stomping to the Dunkin’s entrance. He’s not really mad – he gets quiet when he gets mad – but it’s good to know that he’s won. (Not that it’s hard. Will is witty, sure, and wicked smart, but his buttons are just a smidge too easy to press. Great fun for Nico, who has raging ADHD and could not resist the allure of a shiny red button if it was going to blow up the Earth with him on it.)

Will is nowhere to be found when Nico gets inside, so he assumes he’s in the washroom and walks up to the counter to make their order. A bored girl a couple years younger than him flips a magazine behind the register, nodding as he comes up.

“I’ll have a black coffee and a…” He squints. “God. A butter pecan swirl signature iced latte.”

“With whipped cream and caramel drizzle?”

Nico sighs, resisting the urge to physically wince. “Yes.”

“Anything else?” says the girl, smile pulling at her lips. “I can put sugar in a cup to go, if you want.”

“He’d probably take that, too,” he agrees snorting. “But nah. Just a couple breakfast sandwiches, if you don’t mind.”

“‘Course.”

She rings him up, letting him know it’s gonna take a minute as the machines boot up. He wanders while he waits, curiously observing a wall of what appears to be scrawled pencil graffiti. Nothing talented, but he has to fight the urge to walk out to the payphone he saw outside and call a few of the numbers, just to see what would happen. 

“Hey,” Will says, startling him. He’s changed his shirt and tied his hair back, looking a million times better than last night. Nico finds himself relieved, shoulders slumping imperceptibly.

“Hey.”

“D’you order for us?”

“Got you your morning milkshake monstrosity, don’t worry.”

Will grins. “Drinking black coffee doesn’t make you cool.”

“It does, actually. At any given time I am forty-seven percent cooler than you. More, if you’re wearing cargo shorts.” He glances down. “It’s a forty-nine percent day, apparently.”

“Go wash your face,” Will laughs, shoving him. “I’ll get the food, then we can look at the map.”

He doesn’t take nearly as long as Will did. He brushes his teeth, splashes water on his face, decides his hair looks awesome the way it is – of course he didn’t forget a brush, why would he be a big enough dumbass to forget a brush and also more than one pair of socks – and walks back out. He finds Will tucked in a booth in a corner, chewing on a pink straw, eyeing their giant map intently.

“So,” he says as Nico approaches, handing him his coffee, “I did some math.”

Nico notices a napkin scrawled with ink that he could not read even if he wasn’t dyslexic.

“Geek.”

Will chucks his balled up straw wrapper at him. “We can go five hours-ish on a full tank of gas, and you’re a bit above a half tank, so we got maybe three hours before we need to stop.” He circles a little dot about a quarter way into the state, letters too small for Nico to read. “And since going anywhere near Orlando in the summer is asking to stick us in bumper-to-bumper traffic, that puts us in Anthony.”

“I did not know there was a town named Anthony,” Nico says sagely. “That’s a shit name for a town, if I’m being honest.”

WIll shrugs. “Welcome to Florida. Anyways. Want me to drive? You drove last night.”

“Barely,” Nico dismisses, waving his hand. He likes driving – it’s just scattered enough that he doesn’t get antsy. It’s being a passenger that kills him, although he’s sure they’ll switch on the way back so he can rest. “I’ll drive.”

“‘Kay.”

Will turns his attention back to the map, tapping his pen against the table in between bites of his breakfast sandwich. Every so often he returns to the napkin, scribbling something down and making little hums of concentration. 

Nico begins to notice the route he’s drawing extends a ways past state lines.

“So,” he says carefully, eyes trained on his best friend. “Running away.”

Will tenses, again, at the mention of it, although this time he looks more stubborn than lost. Good.

“Road trip,” he corrects. “It’s our last summer, Nico. I turn eighteen in a couple months, and then…” He trails off. Nico waits out the silence, seven seconds, eight, nine. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? One last huzzah, road trip around the nation, or whatever?”

“Did you happen to tell your mother about this road trip?”

Will shrugs. “I left a note.”

Nico hums. “Sounds an awful lot like running away. I would know. I’ve been picked up by social services in three separate states.”

“Road trip,” Will corrects again, stubborn set to his brow. 

Nico decides to let it go for now.

“Road trip,” he agrees. Will looks at him gratefully. “Where to?”

“That defeats the point of a road trip.” He rolls up the map, looking at Nico like it’s obvious. “Duh. Journey, not the destination, et cetera, et cetera.”

Privately, Nico bets that by tomorrow, Will be be restless and guilty and they will be on their way home. Outwardly, he says, “You have seen a truly disgusting amount of movies,” and Will laughs, and Nico follows him to the Jeep, and knows, as he always does, that he will follow him regardless; across the world, across the country, even back to Shit Fuck, Florida.

———

next chapter

[jjwantsme]

34+35

j.m

pairing: jj maybank x kook!reader

summary: four times they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other, and the one time they were caught.

warnings: nsfw, piv, praise kink, oral (f receiving),boob sucking, public sex, spit, a little of sub!jj, degradation kink, cussing, let me know it i missed anything :)

authors note: this is my first actual smut on tumblr so PLEASE have some mercy on me 🥲

masterlist

y/n and JJ were truly obsessed with each other. not in a lovey-dovey cute way- i mean, that too- but in a lustful perverted way.

ever since the week they got together, the pogues couldn’t recall one day where the boy’s neck wasn’t covered in love bites, or where his cheeks didn’t have lipstick stains on them.

they thought- or should i say, hoped- that it was a honeymoon phase type of thing, that their sex life would calm down after the first few weeks of being together.

oh, how they were utterly wrong.

it’d now been a year and a half, and if anything, it’s gotten worse. much, much worse.

i know what you’re thinking. ‘it can’t be that bad!’

so, here i am, providing you five instances to prove just how bad it is.

the first time

“J, we don’t have time!” y/n squealed when her boyfriend had pinned her against the door.

“no worries,” JJ mumbled as he kissed down her neck, “i’ll be quick.”

y/n had missed her alarm, after a moan-filled night, making her late for work. and JJ wanted to let her get ready, he really did, but how can he resist her when she’s in those pajamas?

it wasn’t long before JJ had his hand wrapped around his long cock as he pulled her lace panties to the side, “jus’ woke up so needy for you, babe. need to feel you.”

y/n couldn’t do anything but whine and gasp in pleasure when she recognized the feeling of his length destroying the walls of her pussy, her nails immediately going to his tan back.

“fuck, JJ!”

“i know, i know,” JJ cooed as he slid all the way into her, “jus’ let me destroy this pussy real quick, yeah? you gonna let me do that?”

the girl choked out a moan as she nodded.

he kept a tight hold on her, her back still against the door, as he began bouncing her on his cock, a groan escaping his swollen pink lips.

“y’gonna make me cum if you keep squeezing me like that, princess,” he groaned, before letting out a much louder moan, letting a hand go down to grip her ass.

moans filled up the entire house, echoing throughout the walls as y/n made it known just how good she felt.

“please, please cum, please, i wanna feel it inside me so bad, please, J” she started begging, making his eyes rolls to the back of his head.

“wanna be your cockslut every morning, J, oh fuck- i’m gonna cum!-“ she chanted over and over.

“that’s it, cum on my cock, baby, make me happy,”

she granted his wish as she felt her orgasm wash over her, his following close behind as his cock twitched before releasing.

one last moan fell from y/n’s lips as the bouncing slowly came to a stop, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to catch their breath.

“damn,” JJ breathed out. “you gotta start waking up late more often.”

the second time

“what about this one? is this dress okay?” y/n asked as she stepped out of the dressing room in yet another dress, JJ looking up from his phone and smiling at her.

“baby, you look like a goddess in everything you wear. how am i supposed to help you choose?”

y/n rolled her eyes but chuckled. “JJ, midsummer is in two days. two! i have to get a dress or my parents will be pissed; so you’re gonna have to start being more detailed with your reviews.”

she did a little twirl, “so, thoughts?”

JJ bit his lip, his thoughts becoming less and less pure the longer he stared at her. “definitely compliments the…chest area.”

“J, be serious!”

“oh, trust me, I’m being serious.”

he felt a smirk crawl onto his face, “how about i help you take this one off?”

“mm…” she couldn’t deny the fact that it was a nice idea. her fingers were tired from zipping up so many dresses, anyway. “fine. no funny business, though!”

JJ giggled like a little boy and quickly got up, leaving his phone behind as he followed her into the dressing room.

it wasn’t long before he had the door locked with y/n in his lap.

“babe, i said no funny business,” y/n whined as he began unzipping the dress off of her.

“mm, sshh, jus’ helping you get undressed.”

y/n rolled her eyes and began pulling the dress down, causing her plump breasts to bounce as she moved her body.

“goddamn, baby,” JJ whistled quietly as he moved a hand to grip her left boob, squeezing it lightly with his hand.

y/n couldn’t help but bite her lip, “J…” she warned.

“can i suck them, please, baby? please, just let me put that little nipple in my mouth,” he tweaked her right nipple with his index finger, making her groan.

“J, we’re in public…”

he smirked, taking her reply as a yes to his question.

“that just means we gotta be quiet.”

JJ dipped his head down, taking one of her nipples into his mouth as she immediately arched her back, making access even easier for him.

y/n ran her fingers through his hair, making him groan around her nipple before releasing it to bite hickeys all around her boob. he licked the mark he left and went to her other breast, nibbling gently on the nipple before sucking it into his mouth.

“mmh, so good, J. Such a good boy for me.”

JJ moaned at the praise, lightly bucking his hips as his boner became painfully hard.

he licked all around her nipple while continuing to buck his hips into her ass, trying to relieve his clothed bulge with any kind of pleasure.

“love being your good boy, love sucking on these pretty titties,” he fit as much of her boob into his mouth as he could, squeezing the other one in his hand.

y/n tugged on his hair in pleasure, grinding down to meet his thrusts.

JJ released her from his mouth and hummed slightly, licking her nipple one last time before moving up to kiss her red lips.

so much for finding the right dress, y/n thought.

the third time

JJ pulled y/n into a closet at the midsummer party, locking it behind him.

“J, my parents will kill me.” she warned him, wrapping her arms around his neck out of instinct when he gripped her waist.

“not if they don’t find out.”

he connected their lips, a messy makeout being the turn out as their tongues mixed together.

JJ pulled away from the kiss, a wild look in his eyes. “you just look so gorgeous tonight,”

he began kissing down her neck, “wanna taste you.”

in no time, JJ had her thighs over his shoulders as he pressed a kiss on her clothed clit.

y/n jolted with a moan at the action.

he slid her panties down, revealing her puffy wet pussy as heat radiated from between her legs.

“such a pretty pussy, princess.”

he licked a long stripe from her entrance to her clit, making her cover her mouth to quiet her moans.

she knew she had to be quiet. their friends and family were just outside, after all.

he licked all over, connecting with her folds and sucking on her swollen clit.

JJ starts eating her pussy like a mad man, the obnoxious sound of him licking her weeping cunt filling the dark closet.

his warm muscle laps at her hole with a sense of greed as he whimpered into it, the taste of her pussy giving him just as much pleasure.

he made sure not to let her clit go untouched, though. spitting on it before reattaching his mouth to it, sucking on it as if it was his favorite lollipop. which, between you and me, it was his favorite lollipop.

it soon became too much for y/n, the sight of his head between her thighs mixed with the feeling of his tongue abusing her hole. she felt it before she even heard it, her orgasm bubbling before crashing down onto JJ’s tongue, him licking her clean.

JJ licked his lips before placing a few kisses around her clit, her hole clenching around nothing at the feeling.

he then looked up at her, eyes blown out and chin glistening with her juices.

“thank you for letting me eat your sweet pussy, my love.”

the fourth time

it seemed like a normal drive for the rest of the pogues.

they all sat in the car on the way to the pier, kiara and john b in the front as y/n and JJ sat in the back.

little did they know, JJ and y/n were having some fun of their own.

“better keep quiet, baby,” JJ whispered into her ear as he had three fingers deep inside her. “wouldn’t want our friends to know you’re a dirty slut, would you?”

y/n shook her head as she bit back a moan, digging her head into JJ’s shoulder.

he moved his fingers in and out, a large cocky smirk plastered on his face as she whimpered into his shirt.

“you okay back there, y/n?” john b asked after hearing one of her quiet whines, keeping his eyes on the road.

her cheeks grew red in embarrassment while JJ’s smirk grew bigger in amusement.

she looked up him as she bit her lip, begging for any hint of mercy.

he looked at her then back at john b, “yeah, she’s good, her stomach just hurts.”

“oh, okay. probably just motion sickness.” he nodded in response, just as y/n came all over his best friend’s fingers.

poor thing. he had no idea.

the fifth, and final, time

“we’re gonna get in trouble!” y/n whisper-yelled at JJ after he pulled her out of class, just for a quickie.

he scoffed, “yeah, right.”

he was right, though. they never did.

he led her into the girls bathroom, making her gasp in a mix of surprise and guilt.

“you’re a boy! you shouldn’t be in h-“

JJ cut her off with a kiss, which quickly became heated as he began unzipping his pants.

though, lucky for him, they were interrupted just before he was able to pull anything out.

“ahem,” the vice principal cleared her throat as she stood in the doorway, looking at them with nothing but pure judgement.

y/n immediately pulled away from the kiss, a mortified look on her face as she realized her biggest fear had came true.

they had been caught in the act.

“mrs. shelly-“

“no! this is unacceptable, and both of you will be following me to the principal’s office!” she scolded them before turning around on her heel and heading towards their destination, content when she heard their footsteps close behind her.

“well,” JJ whispered into his poor girlfriend’s ear.

“looks like our reign of terror is over.”

[cryptidcorners]

Hi! Could I request literally any kind of story with protective Mike (from the FNAF movie). It really doesn't matter in what sort of context it is, I just want some protectiveness. Thank you so much in advance!

~ Mike Schmidt x Reader ~

= Title: Sheild

= Character: Mike Schmidt

= Media: Movie!Five Nights At Freddie's

= Prompt: N/A

= Description: During a coffee break, Mike notices you look more worried than normal. In reality, a former friend of yours is on the same floor as you, and the troubles you faced with them drive you away from Mike. It isn't until they finally approach and you see a different side of him.

= Request: "Hi! Could I request literally any kind of story with protective Mike (from the FNAF movie). It really doesn't matter in what sort of context it is, I just want some protectiveness. Thank you so much in advance!"

= Tags: Fluff ! Small Angst? Mall Setting, Protective Mike, Sweet Talk, Platonic (with Slight Romantic Implications? It's up for you to decide !), Affection, Cute Ending + Reader is !GN

= Warnings: Slight Stalking? (Reader has a Former Friend who approaches them (!GN)), Some Tension + Anxiety/Worry + No Spoilers, Really!

"Is something wrong?" Mike's curious tone had fished you out of your softened paralysis. In a flash, your eyes flicked upwards. You had forgotten where you were due to your gaze being on someone else. "What? Oh, sorry." Your palms sunk around the design of your coffee cup, and with its heat bleeding around your fingertips, you promptly pulled away.

"Sorry," you echoed. "I dozed off."

Even the busy foreground of the mall couldn't hook your mind. You weren't trying to be rude, or ignore Mike on purpose, but you couldn't stop thinking about them. Your lips twisted into a frown.

"Everything okay?" His face softened with concern. Even with that, you still looked around as if you were dazed. That's when he connected the dogs and reluctantly spilled a: "Is somebody bothering you?" Mike's throat strengthened. He didn't even have a set response but his shoulders were already peaking.

"Maybe," you sighed. Your warm hand fell to your cheek. His face fell and you quickly brushed it off. "It's nothing, don't worry about it."

Mike was getting antsy in his seat. "You can tell me who they are. I'll tell them to go, I mean, I am a guard. It's what I do, you know?" As if to showcase his title, he sat up, expressing his "security" symbol running across his light uniform. That brought you some ease. Sort of.

Then you felt his hand on yours, grasping it protectively. "Please? Tell me who it is." Mike asked, "I don't want you to feel this way." Would it be wrong to tell him? The character orbiting in your mind had not hurt you per say, but you had history. It hurt too much to see them.

You sighed and gave him a reassuring grin. Your eyes were still on Mike, "It's okay, I know I'll be fine with you here."

Mike pulled away shyly. He could defend you easily, but he still had to make sure he knew. Before you could speak after a sorry sip of your coffee, a dreadful buzz crawled out of Mike's radio. Rapid, low-quality chatter. Mike looked like a lost animal, and hesitated to leave. But, he had a duty. "Damnit, I gotta go. I'll see you later?"

"Right, right. Bye," you awkwardly waved. You felt ridiculous. You were so focused on somebody you used to know while having a brief coffee date with your friend. It was hard to ever grab a seat with Michael, and you managed to mess it up.

Your disappointed expression rested on your face with a soft groan. Stupid.

"Hey there." A familiar voice made you feel like a fish out of water. Your attention flew upwards. You shuttered, "Hey?"

Internally, you were panicking. The same person you were shivering over was now looming over your shoulder. They must have waited until Mike had left. Damnit.

You were trying to pull away from their conversation. You both had left on bad terms, and it felt uncomfortable how sweet they were. There was nothing kind about them at all. And you knew it.

"I should really go," you finally declared. You attempted to pull out of your seat, but a sudden force stopped you. They grabbed your arm.

"But it's only been a few minutes, come on."

"I really want to stay, but I need to go." You said nervously. They didn't budge.

Anxiety began to grow, and your mouth was sewed shut. You completely drowned away everything they were saying until you heard a vicious: "Get off!" from Mike.

He gripped their shoulder and pulled them aside. Mike sucked his teeth and swore under his breath, "They want you to leave. So, fuck off."

"I don't think you understand, sir. We know each other." They protested.

Mike's gaze grew into something stormy, "Leave. Or I'm calling the rest of security." As soon as your follower squirmed out of his grip, Mike walked over and shielded you away. They apologized, making up a silly excuse as to why they were holding on to you. Mike didn't buy it and snapped again. You were left alone, drowning in relief.

"Are you okay? Look at me." Mike quickly discarded his hard expression, his eyes were already calm with longing. "They didn't hurt you right? I'll find them, I have good memory, I-" he was holding you. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"it's okay. It's okay. Mike, I'm fine." You answered. "You protected me, and that's all I can ask for."

He was still worried, so he felt the need to pull you aside, talking to another floor just in case. Mike released a heavy exhale, forbidding himself to let go of your hand. "I can give you a ride home,"

"You don't have to."

"I can pay for a ride,"

"Mike."

"You can stay near me too, I don't-"

"Michael." Your tone hardened. Mike's attention veered towards you once again. "You don't need to worry." Your were hands softly wrapped around his, "I'll be okay as long as you're here."

"Okay." Mike's demeanor relaxed at the sight of you. "Just . . . tell me when someone is wrong. I don't want you to get hurt."

"You got it." It felt strangely intimate. You had never been so close with him. You did have a habit of shielding away your hardships, but now, it felt wrong to hold it away. Especially from Mike. "It won't happen ever again."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

[megalony]

Sick Day

This is a rather short Evan Buckley imagine based on an anon request. I hope you all like it, I was struggling with what ideas to write today.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @topguncultleader @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989

911 Masterlist

Summary: When (Y/n) isn't well, Evan takes the day off to look after her.

Enjoy.

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

"Come on, as if you have to ask what I'll have," A grin pulled at Evan's lips and he downed the last dregs of coffee before he leaned over and switched the tv off. He didn't know why he turned in on in the first place, probably out of habit because he had only watched five minutes of the news and now it was time to leave.

Evan had the skill of being able to down his first morning coffee in less than three minutes and he needed a coffee to wake himself up, especially on the days when he was driving to work. When he did the early shifts he preferred it when Eddie picked him up on the way so he didn't have to drive. But Eddie was only down for a short shift today and Evan was in for the full twenty four hours. He had to drive so he could get himself home tomorrow.

With his empty cup in one hand and the other holding his phone to his ear, Evan strolled out of the living room towards the kitchen.

Hen had called. She was graciously going on a breakfast run this morning to fuel everyone up and she was ringing round to take orders.

"Yeah, I'll-" Evan cut himself short and lifted his head from looking towards the kitchen to stare at the stairs. He barely placed his cup down on the side when his eyes locked on (Y/n).

He had left her in bed when he came down ten minutes ago. He had dragged himself away from her, planting numerous kisses to her skin before he left and she wasn't at work today. She was on maternity leave and had no reason to be up this early.

That wasn't what worried Evan. It was the way she stumbled down the stairs and swung herself round into the bathroom at the side of the stairs that made him uneasy. He watched her burst into the bathroom, unable to stop and turn the light on before the horrid sound of her throwing up drifted through the apartment and echoed back to Evan.

"I'll call you back in five, I gotta go." He didn't wait for a response before he ended the call, tossed his phone on the side and jogged towards the bathroom. "Babe? Baby, you okay?"

Evan flicked the light on and pushed the door open, leaning his weight onto the door frame as a sigh pushed past his lips. His arms folded over his chest and he watched with a grimace as his wife threw up again.

She had her legs curled beneath her in an awkward sitting position, her feet slumped near the shower mat behind her. And her arms were draped around the back of the toilet with her head slumped forward onto her forearm to stop her head hanging in the toilet. Her upper body was slumped over and a subtle tremble had taken over her frame that was quaking back and forth as she tried to take big, panting breaths.

If Evan didn't know any better he would have thought she had fainted, but her weak groan told him she was still awake.

"Okay baby, come here." He pushed off the door frame and moved to crouch down beside her, arching his knees outwards so his legs were curved around her frame with her in between his thighs. "Talk to me,"

He was careful when he pulled (Y/n) up so he could look at her and he tried to hold her chin between his fingers. But their eyes barely met before (Y/n) pulled her chin out of his grip and bent down again to hurl into the toilet. The back of her throat burned and she coughed, trying her best not to choke as she threw up last night's tea and the little fluids she had drank during the night.

(Y/n) felt pitiful when she cried and gasped for breath, wiping her eyes on her arm but it didn't make her feel any better and she could feel more tears replacing them anyway.

She prayed Evan would have been out the door when she almost fell down the stairs so she didn't throw up on the floor. (Y/n) didn't like Evan seeing her like this, especially not when she was now going to make him late for work. It wasn't fair.

She could feel Evan's lips pressing against her bare shoulder and his hands slowly rubbed up and down her arms. His hum and shushes vibrated against her skin and made her shiver and when Evan pulled her back and let her flop against his chest, she tried to smile and look up at him. They both knew her smile did nothing to calm him down, he raised his brow as if asking if that was all she could manage.

"I-it's all out,"

"That's not exactly comforting, babe." Evan sighed before he leaned his arm over to flush the toilet. He cared a lot that she had thrown up last night's tea because it meant she didn't have anything left in her system. She was eight months pregnant, the last thing she needed was to be getting ill like this. Morning sickness had hit her hard in this pregnancy and she had only just shaken that off two months ago.

If she had some sort of stomach bug or sickness and was throwing up again, they would be back down the road of her getting dehydrated and lacking nutrients and the energy she needed.

"I… I feel a bit better now." (Y/n) dragged her fingers through her hair, pushing the strands away from her face that she turned to tuck into the crook of Evan's neck. She tried to smile into his skin when she felt his hands continue to smooth up and down her arms. "Don't make yourself late, sweetheart, I-"

A little gasp left her lips when Evan tilted her head back and pressed the back of his hand against her forehead. She shivered at the way he clicked his tongue and shook his head at her.

"Don't sweetheart me, you're burning up. You're going back to bed." She was getting a temperature and buttering him up wouldn't make him ignore that.

"I will."

(Y/n) tilted her head back on Evan's shoulder and reached a heavy hand up to cup his cheek. When he only stared down at her with that dark, infectious, if possessive look, (Y/n) could have melted on the spot if she didn't feel so icky and uneasy. She loved that little flicker in his eyes and the way he would curve his lips up at one side in a very dark way as opposed to the usual goofy way he smiled at everyone else.

"I don't doubt that, because I'm gonna stay and make sure you do."

"Evan no, you need to go to work," Something whined at the back of her throat and she dropped her head into the crook of his neck, bringing her hand up to brush his jaw while he kissed the top of her head. Her lips pressed against his neck and she kissed the junction beneath his jaw that acted as a button to make him shudder and curse at her.

She wasn't letting him take another day off to stay home with her. He needed to go to work, he would be taking leave in two weeks anyway in time for when the baby was born. It wasn't fair on him to take time off and be home with her when she was sick, he didn't need to be running round after her.

"Buttering me up won't make a difference, I'm not leaving you like this. Come on, sofa or bed?"

(Y/n) found the strength to loop her arms around Evan's neck and he took the hint, smiling into her temple as she wasn't going to argue this with him and he could feel her resolve melting away. His hands found her hips and he slowly stood up, pulling her with him onto unsteady feet.

When he heard (Y/n) whisper 'bed' quietly under her breath, he turned her around in his arms and pressed his hands against her lower stomach. His lips pressed to the back of her head and his elbows squeezed into her sides to pin her in his embrace. Evan could feel that she was still shaking in his arms and he didn't want to let go and have her stumble or fall.

Deep down they both knew she was in no fit state to stay home alone and mull about the house to try and settle her stomach. And Evan didn't trust her to tell him if she got worse. He needed to stay and look after her and check that she was going to eat and drink without throwing up again. She needed fluids in her system.

There was no way Evan was about to leave when she was in this state, he would ring Bobby soon and tell him he wasn't going in today.

A small smile flooded Evan's face as they started to ascend up the stairs as if they were conjoined. But the smile faded when they got halfway up and (Y/n) suddenly stopped. Evan's knees bumped into the back of her thighs and he jolted to a stop as (Y/n) clamped her hands down on his wrists as her knees buckled.

"Going dizzy,"

(Y/n) snapped her eyes closed and tilted her chin down into her chest to try and relieve the air bubbling up in her head. She felt like all the blood was draining from her head and static burst in her ears.

"Okay, okay down we go baby."

Slowly, Evan lowered them both down until he was kneeling on the step below and eased (Y/n) down with him until she was awkwardly bent in front of him with her back leant up against his chest. His chin perched on her shoulder so he could kiss her cheek as he moved his arms around.

An arm stayed around her lower waist and he shifted his right arm beneath her legs, coiling his wife into his chest before he slowly stood up. He didn't give (Y/n) time to panic or tell him she was too heavy or it was too dangerous to pick her up on the middle of the stairs. He held her up in his arms and walked up the rest of the stairs towards the bedroom.

He bent his knees in front of the bed and carefully eased (Y/n) down, biting his lip when (Y/n) wavered and flopped forward. Her head pressed into his lower abdomen and her hands clutched at his thighs as she groaned into his stomach. Evan curled his hand over the back of her neck and leaned down to kiss her head.

"I'm definitely not going in today. Think you can lay down for me while I go call Bobby?"

Evan brushed his thumb across her jaw and kissed her forehead when she dropped down properly onto the bed and curled up on her side. Her eyes were already closed and she buried her face in the pillow, looking like she was half dazed, on the verge of sleep.

***

(Y/n) tiredly nuzzled her face into Evan's chest, burying her face into his hoodie as she wedged herself further into his side. Her arm moved to drape over his middle while she felt Evan's arm tighten around her side. His large hand splayed out on her stomach and he grinned when he slipped his cold hand beneath her shirt and felt her squirm and gasp into his chest.

"What time is it?" She grumbled quietly, brushing her nose into the ruffle of his jumper.

"Half one. Are you gonna try and eat something?" Evan scratched the back of his head, pushing back on his arm that was pinned between his head and the headrest. He ruffled the hood on his hoodie and dragged it down from covering his head.

"Hm," She wasn't hungry but she knew Evan would start to start to fuss like a mother hen and panic if she didn't eat anything soon. She hadn't eaten yet, she was letting her stomach settle after being sick this morning. Most of the day had been spent in bed with Evan watching tv and (Y/n) sleeping.

"Good," He kissed the top of her head before he slowly eased from beneath her and sat up, stretching his arms above his head.

He had managed to get (Y/n) to drink two glasses of juice so far and that was an achievement.

When Evan headed downstairs, (Y/n) slowly sat up and clicked her spine into place. She felt better than this morning when she stood up and pulled evan's shirt back down so it covered her thighs since she wasn't wearing bottoms.

Her lips curved into a tired smile and she looked across to the kitchen as she headed down stairs. Evan was wearing matching grey joggers and a hoodie but it was an old one, it looked like it barely fit him now and every time he moved an arm, he flexed a bicep. His hair was ruffled with curls standing up on end in each direction and the way he parted his lips just a little when he was concentrating looked sweet.

"What are you doing?"

She didn't realise she had been staring until she looked up and Evan was staring at her. He had raised brows and a smirk as he pushed a glass of juice across the counter towards her.

"I thought we were eating?" Her eyes fell to the counter and she grabbed the stool, trying to be graceful but she knew she didn't look it when she slowly eased herself up onto the stool.

"Yes, but you should be resting."

"I am, I'm sat down,"

When Evan passed her to go to the fridge, (Y/n) reached her arms out and curved them around Evan's arm so she could reel him into her chest. He turned round, a look of surprise on his face but he wasn't complaining. He cupped her face and tilted her head up, brushing his thumbs near her lips before he leaned down to kiss her. She felt his teeth nip at her lower lip and she smiled, grazing her fingers against his neck to make him growl.

"You're still burning up," He commented quietly as he pressed a kiss to her temple. "Come on, baby." Evan helped her down from the stool and reached over for the plates he had gotten ready.

(Y/n) cosied herself up into Evan's side when they sat down on the sofa for a change. Her arm curled around his bicep and she leaned her cheek against his upper arm, staring down at the sandwich on her plate. She didn't feel so hungry now she was looking at food. Her stomach was churning at the sight of food and she could feel her throat tightening, but she needed to try.

She was only going to make herself feel worse if she didn't eat anything and she needed to try and look after her and the baby.

"You okay?" Evan had demolished most of his sandwich while (Y/n) seemed to have taken one bite of hers which she was staring at woefully.

"I'm not hungry,"

"Can you eat half of it, please? For me?" Concern dripped from Evan's voice as he looked down at (Y/n) and kissed the top of her head. If she had just a few more bites he would feel better. At this rate, Evan knew he was going to be taking tomorrow off as well if (Y/n) was still like this. He wasn't going back to work if she couldn't eat and wasn't drinking enough.

A small groan burned at the back of (Y/n)'s throat and she put the plate down on the coffee table before she tucked herself back into Evan's side. He could feel her trying to take steady breaths that fanned through his sleeve. She had eaten about four bites of her sandwich which was something, but it still wasn't good.

"Stay there a minute," Evan jogged off to the kitchen and when he returned, he handed her a milkshake. "Try one of my protein shakes. I'd feel a lot better if you could keep something like this down."

Evan and Eddie had a lot of protein shakes at the station in case they didn't have much time for food or if they felt run down. They were great for helping when they were training in the gym and on days off. Evan would stop worrying so much if (Y/n) managed to drink one and keep it down because it was full of vitamins and proteins and it was as good as a blended smoothie. It would mean she had something in her and it would stop her from feeling so run down and sick.

"Thank you," He spoke quietly against the top of her head when (Y/n) finished the drink.

He propped his feet up on the coffee table and slouched down and a grin spread across Evan's lips when he felt (Y/n) moving his hand. She curved his arm so it was draped across her chest with his palm pressed against her lower stomach. Her head tucked up against his arm and she could feel adrenaline coursing through her stomach when Evan slowly began to glide his hand up and down her stomach.

[cosmal]

I offer you: Remus Lupin Giving You Lazy Hickeys When You're Cuddling

𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 — 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

summary — remus gives you a lazy hickey and you fall asleep on him.

warnings/tags — fem!reader, she/her pronouns, hickeys

“Dove!”

It’s a nickname he knows you can’t ignore. It’s true, you can’t. No matter what you’re doing, its something that’ll pull your attention to him every time.

You can hear him huff a small giggle when you start the small walk from your desk to the loungeroom. He’s smug and you’d detest it if he wasn’t also cute. Face all smooshed into the arm of the sofa, hair a complete mess, a tangle of blanket and limbs spread out over the cushions.

“Remus,” you say, tiniest smile playing on your lips. You won’t let him see how amused you are because you know what the next question will be before he even opens his lips.

“Will you lay down with me?” he yawns, outstretching his arms until his elbows click. You wrinkle your face.

“I’m busy.”

“Yeah?” he asks, face a little sad. He really was expecting you just to fall right into him.

“Yeah, gotta get this work done before tomorrow,” you tell him, turning to head back towards your room. If you don’t do it now, his sad face will have you breaking. 

“Just for five minutes. You’ve been working all day, honey. You need some rest.” Then, he’s making the softest face known to mankind. You think it’d be easier if you just closed your eyes when talking to him. 

“Remus,” you complain. “I really gotta-”

“Just five minutes, please.” he begs, sitting up a little until there’s the perfect you shaped space between his long legs. He looks too inviting. Warm and cosy.

“We both know it’ll be longer,” you say, moving to close the space between the two of you. 

“I’m not going to act like that bothers me.” Remus makes quick work to accpet your body into his space. Shuffling around until you’re comfortably resting over him. Face in his neck, arms needled around his back and your legs tangled through his like you’re made to lay there. He wraps his own arms around your back like you have and rests his cheek against yours, sighing deep and contently.

“Shit,” he murmurs, his breath a heat over your skin. You rub your face closer to his if its entirely possible..

“What?” Your voice is barely a whisper, a word that hardly carries. How he’s got you so relaxed so quickly is lost on you. He’s always been that way.

“I think I could lay here like this for the rest of my life,” he says, a little too lovesick. Too dazed.

You squeeze him around his sides, ribs pressing into the flesh of your arms, “Stop.”

“It’s true.” he leans down to press a quick, fond kiss to your neck. Smiling when you wriggle under his loving. “Seriously,” he says with another kiss, mumbled under your skin.

“Seriously,” you echo, fatigue making your voice a little thick and your eyes too heavy. You really don’t know how tired you are sometimes until Remus has to remind you. It usually ends up like this. Messed up in cuddles that have the stress squeezed out your fingertips.

“You’re tired,” Remus says it like an I told you so when sigh under your breath. High-pitched and relaxed, wriggling yourself closer to him.

“Yeah.” You nod and his shirt bunches under your neck. Your skin now touching and it might be the final straw that keeps you from not falling asleep.

His mouth moves down the length of your neck until he’s hovering over your pulse point. “Sleep, then,” he says before sucking your skin. Pulling your flesh between his swelling lips until blood rushes to the surface. His bottom lip drags up over the plane of your neck until it closes, a wet line left behind.

You murmur a dying protest under your breath and completely melt when he nibbles. Whimpering under his ministrations that vibrate over your skin when you make any noise.

“Remus,” you whisper. Pleady and quiet. Remus dies.

“Hmm,” he hums into your skin. There’s nothing to be said but he knows what you mean.

He pulls his lips back with the tiniest, wet smack, grinning like he’s stupidly pleased. He is when he sees the light mauve mark he’s left behind.

You start to wriggle against him like you miss the bullying of his mouth. Remus takes your pleading with pride, leaning down to press his wet lips back against the mess he’s made of your skin. Sucking sucking sucking until your face screws up with pleasure. Your knee coming up towards him to push between his thighs, lifting your chin to grant him better access. 

He nudges the darkened spot with his nose, grinning when you whimper. Entirely oversensitive. He gives it one more kiss for good measure before setting his head back against your hair. 

You both fall asleep on the sofa and five minutes becomes two hours.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Treat You 2

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, violence, mentions of abuse, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (Tall!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Right before you leave, you notice the young barista in his jacket with a canvas knapsack slung over his shoulder. You keep your head down as you leave the porcelain mug on the counter and head out. It’s been about two hours, spent sipping cold tea and dreading your return home.

As you come out onto the street, the wind billows around you violently. The autumn whips at your clothing as you cling to the collar of your jacket to keep it out You shiver as leaves crunch under your soles and those of other pedestrians hurrying by. 

You turn onto the street with the night club. A few employees disappear behind the heavy doors as they prepare to start the evening shift. The sky dims with each step, shadows pooling beneath parked cars and behind light poles.

You turn your head, sensing something looming behind you. Your heart picks up and you turn straight again. Once more you look across the street, searching for one of the burly bouncers. There’s a man in his black jacket but he’s thoroughly distracted by a girl with a stuffed animal in her arms, waving at him as she noisily chatters.

You veer towards the curb, acting as if you’re going to cross, taking the excuse to look up and down the street. There’s no one there, just you and your paranoia. Why are you so afraid of the dark when your father’s waiting for you at home?

You shudder and carry on. Another day wasted hiding away. You’ll have to catch up on your projects tonight. Your job isn’t much but it’s the only one you could find without college. Even Dairy Queen didn’t call you back. Online work captioning videos; simple enough but pays about the same.

As you reach your street, you peek over your shoulder again. It’s as if your steps are in a perpetual echo yet no one’s there. You’re tired. It’s been a long, endless day. The rude awakening of your father breaking dishes had your adrenaline spike too early.

You dig out your keys and find the grated front door on the old brick walkup. You shoulder inside, your heel hitting the door and kicking it wider. You drag your feet and wait for the heavy door to slam. It doesn’t. Not when you think it will.

It sounds almost like someone caught the door. You stop at the base of the stairwell and look back. Again, no one.

You shake your head and continue on. You brace yourself for what comes next. Down the hall, you stop at the door. You listen and hear the television blaring. Gently, you slide the key into the slot and twist.

Quiet, quiet. You enter and take off your shoes on the matter. You unzip your coat as your father’s lounge chair creaks. You tiptoe by the doorway of the front room, head bowed.

“That you?” He growls.

You stop short, “dad.”

“Where ya been? Staying out late.”

“It’s six.”

“I didn’t ask the time,” he retorts.

“Sorry–”

“Place stinks. You didn’t take the trash out.”

You look at him as he sits in the glare of the television. The old 60s serial plays loudly as his eyes don’t leave the screen. It’s like he’s hypnotised by the screen. He’s docile like this, distracted.

“I’ll take it out.”

“Damn right you will. I’m fucking starving too. Been waiting on my dinner since five.”

“Okay, dad, I’ll make some Kraft Dinner,” you offer.

“Put some hot dogs in it,” he demands.

“Well, dad, we gotta save those so we have dinner tomorrow–”

“Shut up!” He whips his beer can at you, its contents splashing over the carpet, “I bought the damn things so do what I fucking tell you.”

His voice thunders louder with each word. You push your shoulders up and shrink down, “I will, I will. I’ll get the trash first.”

“You come in her, back talking me, after you made me fucking WAIT!”

“Dad, please–”

“One more word and I’m going to get out of my fucking chair,” he warns.

You back away. It’s better to just do what he says. You won’t ever tell him you paid for the groceries that week since he didn’t have enough for the electric. No, he can sit in his beer-stained throne as you play his jester.

You tie up the garbage bag and pull it out of the bin. You carry it to the door and angle it out into the hall. It smells like cigarette butts and something rancid. As you come out, you nearly walk straight into someone else.

You wince and press yourself to the door as you shut it behind you. You blink as you recognise the man. How could that be possible?

“Uh, sorry, do you know where 2F is? I’m just dropping something off for my buddy’s nan,” the barista asks. 

Does he not know you? Maybe you overestimated his kindness. Why would he remember you? He just sees a customer to coax a tip out of. You are so dumb.

“I…” you point down the hall. It’s right around the corner but you didn’t know an old woman lived there. You suppose you don’t pay much attention to your neighbours.

“Thanks, I… you know me, right? Peter, from the cafe?”

Oh, he does remember.

You shrug and look down at the garbage in your hand. “Hey, you want me to take that? I’m just slipping what I got in the slot before I head back out so–”

You shake your head and sidle away from him. It feels like too much of a coincidence but you’re well assured that you could never be that special to anyone. He wouldn’t follow you there. Just like your father says, you’re stupid and ugly and worthless.

“Alright, well, I hope you have a good night,” he chimes, “maybe I’ll see you on my way out.”

You don’t say anything as you turn and quickly carry the garbage down the hall. It’s not just the stench wanting you to get it out of there. You go down the stairs without looking back and burst out into the brisk evening.

You go around the side of the building and swing the bag into the dumpster. You’ll have to go right back up or your dad will lose it. At least you can use that as an excuse if you see that guy again. ‘Sorry, gotta make dinner.’