#i was supposed to stay in there for an hour

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[sinner-as-saint]

here forever

Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Run-through: Dating a superhero was no joke. And as noble as Bucky’s job was, it was just as dangerous and unpredictable. Which is why ever since you and Bucky started dating, he’d been training you in his free time. Teaching you how to defend yourself if ever he wasn’t around to protect you, or if ever his enemies came after you. Although you weren’t perfect at combat yet, you were almost certain you could get out of a tricky situation if you ever found yourself in one. But you were soon proven wrong. And your only option was to hope and pray that Bucky finds you in time. 

Themes: smut, fluff, mentions of kidnapping and death, boyfriend!bucky to the rescue, slight angst, hurt/comfort, mean!dom!bucky, aftercare, biker!bucky (except i made him wear a helmet because safety), mild daddy kink (nicknames only)

a/n: short, quick lil fic because I know we’re all hungry

It had been two hours since these strange men had so easily abducted you off the streets. 

It was a regular day, you were leaving yoga class and were on your way to pick up a smoothie. A treat you always got yourself after each workout class. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except Bucky’s incessant messages asking about your location. 

You knew you weren’t supposed to let your guard down, not even on busy streets – one of the first lessons Bucky taught you just weeks after your first date with him. But you couldn’t help looking down and frowning at your phone. Your bag, purse and phone in your hands. Always have your hands free when walking alone, even on busy streets – the second thing he taught you. 

Always be ready. Always be ready. Always be fucking ready. 

But you had messed up that morning. Bucky’s messages were starting to worry you. He had been away since last night, and as usual, never gave you too many details about his job. But all you knew was that before he left, he’d asked you to try and not go out if you could. Your apartment was safe. He had eyes all over that building. Cameras, security guards, it was the safest place you could be. 

‘Where are you? Why aren’t you home?’

Seconds later: 

‘I told you not to go out. It’s not safe right now. Call me.’ 

Then some missed calls which you couldn’t answer because you were in class at the time. Then messages one after the other: 

‘Go straight home.’ 

‘Is your class over?’ 

‘Go home and wait for me. Don’t open the door for anyone else.’ 

‘Baby I’m so serious right now, go home.’ 

And you were midway through typing an answer to reply to him. To tell him not to worry. To tell him that yes your class was over, and everything was okay and you would call him as soon as you got home. 

But you never got the chance to reply to his messages. 

It all happened too fast. One moment you were looking down, all your focus on your phone and boyfriend, and the next, you were being grabbed and shoved into a dark truck. You barely even got a scream out before the doors were shut and a tape sealed your mouth, ropes snaking around your wrists and ankles. 

And just like that, in less than a full minute, you were taken. 

And here you were now. 

In the back of that same truck which had been driving for about two hours, maybe more. Getting further and further away from the city you lived in, and into more and more unknown areas. 

Fuck! You had messed up. 

You should’ve checked your phone while you were still inside the building. You shouldn’t have been texting on the streets. You shouldn’t have let your guard down. Bucky had been saying for weeks that he suspected people had eyes on him, and consequently you because you two spent a lot of time together. 

He was right of course. He always was. You should’ve listened. You should’ve stayed at home, at least until he got back later today. 

A tear slid down your face, like it had been for the past hours. You silently cried, thinking about all the potential circumstances you could end up finding yourself in. You couldn’t even tell who were the men who kidnapped you because they all wore masks and hadn’t said a single word in the past hours. 

They were armed. And the truck seemed bulletproof. And they kept driving. Nothing said about wanting a ransom, nothing about why they had taken you, or whether they were using you as bait to get Bucky’s attention. Surely they were. 

And a few minutes later, when you heard the familiar roar of a familiar bike, you knew they had his full attention. 

Bucky was here. 

But they hadn’t noticed yet. And you didn’t want them to. So you tried to get all their attention on you by wiggling in the backseat, acting like you were trying to get more comfortable. The two armed men right in front of you just glanced at you and your tied limbs and let you be. 

You noticed the guy in the passenger seat didn’t even bother looking at you. The driver looked into the rearview mirror but quickly looked away and ahead. 

They still hadn’t heard the faint, steady roar of Bucky’s bike. 

Perfect. 

By the time Bucky would get close enough to attack, he would catch them by surprise. And it would be too late for them to react and defend themselves. 

So you kept moving, grunting in annoyance extra loudly just to mask the sound of Bucky’s bike as it got closer and closer– 

A loud gunshot exploded near you. For a moment nothing made sense. 

Then you realised the truck was no longer steady, it was tilted on one side. Bucky had shot one or more of the tires. You sighed in relief, while the men in the vehicle panicked. Muffled voices spoke all at once, one of them telling the driver to drive faster. 

Another, one of the men who was armed in front of you, lowered the window and popped his head and gun out, trying to find whoever was around but it was too late. 

You turned your head and managed to catch a glimpse of him through the rear windshield. Amongst the smoke and dirt flying, there he was. Mounted on his mean bike like a fierce general riding his beast into battle. Except this general wasn’t backed by soldiers. He was alone. 

But army or not, he was still Bucky Barnes. All black bike, black helmet, full biker gear, metal arm catching the sunlight. Guns strapped to his body. He looked like Death. 

A sob shook your body as you ducked and hid under the seats as much as you could as Bucky rain down bullets like hellfire upon the vehicle. He knew it was bulletproof, but you were certain he was doing it just to get the men to use their weapons and waste their bullets on him as fast as possible. 

The loud noises made it seem like your brain was vibrating, your heart was racing, and your ears were hurting with how loud the guns and shouts were. But Bucky was here, and all would be well now. 

A few seconds later, the truck began zig-zagging. You assumed it must be because the driver got shot. More shouts and bullets later, the truck came to a sudden stop. Like it collided with something that was strong enough to stop it even at that speed. 

But there was nothing on the empty streets you had been on. Nothing except… Bucky. 

An eerie silence followed. Then footsteps. The men in the truck had all been shot you realised upon smelling the scent of blood and gunpowder. 

You couldn’t get yourself up, not with your limbs still tied but you tried your best. And you were barely up when you heard the sound of metal literally tearing apart. You managed to peek from the back seat and Bucky had torn off one of the doors. The entire door off the side of the truck. 

You couldn’t call for him, but you kicked the back of one of the seats hard enough to get his attention. 

The moment his ocean blue eyes met your teary ones, you couldn’t help but start crying. Hot, burning tears streaming down your face as Bucky almost tore apart the entire truck to get to you. The moment he grabbed you and pulled you out into the open air, it was only his arm around you keeping you up. 

“I’ve got you,” He whispered over and over again, “You’re safe. I’ve got you, baby. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.” He repeated continuously as he carefully peeled the tape off your lips and cupped your face in his hands, looking at you intently to look for injuries while he wiped your tears away. “Are you hurt?” He asked, looking more panicked and worried than ever. “Baby, answer me. Did they hurt you? Inject you with anything? Touch you?” 

You shook your head, wanting nothing more than to just be able to take a deep breath, now safe in his arms. Only when you went to wrap your shaky arms around him, he stopped you. Keeping you at arms’ length and away from him. 

That worried, soft look in his eyes turned cold. Even under the afternoon sun, you shivered under his gaze. 

“What the fuck did I tell you before I left, huh?” He snarled. “I told you to stay inside, don’t leave the building. Didn’t I say that?” 

You sniffled, nodding. “I just went to my weekly class, and–,” 

He cut you off, hissing, “And look what happened!” He was almost screaming in your face, “You’re so lucky I got here in time. You’re so fucking lucky I have a tracker in that bag of yours. Otherwise it would’ve taken me days to get to you! Days!” 

You trembled, knowing he was right. Bucky dealt with dangerous people. He knew why he asked you to be cautious. 

Bucky leaned closer to you, looking down at you with no warmth. “These aren’t the villains you read about in your silly, little fucking books.” His voice sounded menacing, freezing. “These are actual, dangerous people. They wouldn’t have waited for you to charm your way out. They would’ve killed you!” He yelled. 

“I’m sorry,” You sobbed. “I was replying to your texts and–,” 

“We had a deal, didn’t we?” He grabbed you by the chin and forced you to look at him. “That when I tell you it’s not safe out there, you stay put. You stay inside and wait for me.” He growled. “You could’ve been killed today! And who would have had to live with that, huh? Who would’ve had to live with the disappointment that he couldn’t keep you safe? That he brought you into this shitty life and couldn’t even keep you alive?” He bellowed. “Who would’ve had to look your family in the eyes and tell them he lost you? Me! That’s who!” 

More tears, and a whimper escaped your lips. “I’m sorry.” You whispered. You had never seen this side of him. He let go of your face like it burned to touch you. 

He looked around, at the torn apart truck. At the bodies. The bullets on the ground. He grimaced but didn’t say anything. He reached into the truck and grabbed your things. Your bag and all that you had on you when you were taken. Your phone wasn’t here though, they must’ve thrown it out onto the streets while they took you. 

Bucky said, “We need to get out of here. Come.” 

He didn’t turn around to see if you were following, he knew you would. Once he got on his bike, he handed you his jacket and helmet. You put both on without questioning where you were going. 

Once sat behind him, your arms hesitantly around his torso, he turned to the side and said, “City’s not safe right now. We’ll spend the night at a motel nearby.” 

And that was all he said for the next few hours. 

– 

By the time you two made it to the motel – which was much, much more decent and clean than you had imagined – the sun was already setting. The place was quiet. A few voices conversing here and there, ACs humming as ACs do, cars coming in and out frequently given there was a gas station nearby, and a burger joint on the other side of the street. 

Bucky got you two a room for the night, and didn’t say a word to you as he grabbed your hand and led you to the room. 

It was a decent room. Bed, bedside tables, TV, sofas. The usual. 

You didn’t notice Bucky had packed a bag as well. You hadn’t been paying much attention anyway. He placed his much bigger bag on the bed and pulled out a few things. Some belonging to you, you noticed. Toothbrush, soaps, clean clothes. 

He handed a bunch of things to you and said, “Go shower.” He didn’t even look at you as he spoke. Guess he was still angry at you. 

You didn’t argue. You just took the things and rushed to the bathroom, locking yourself in there for a good half an hour. 

When you stepped out of the shower, feeling clean finally, you noticed Bucky wasn’t in the room. And the weather outside had changed. You could hear the faint thunder approaching. Surely by tonight there would be a storm. 

But where had Bucky gone? 

You put your clothes away in your bag, and with no phone you had no choice but to turn the TV on. You got in bed, a few minutes into watching some random documentary when Bucky walked in with food. 

You gave him a look, wondering if he would talk to you now. But all he said as he placed the bags filled with food on the bed was, “It’s none of your fancy green smoothies and healthy wraps, but it’ll have to do for now. I’m going to shower.” 

Then he disappeared. 

You were still upset, but then hunger took over and you pawed at the bags like a raccoon. You found milkshakes, fries, and burgers. And you ate while you wondered how long Bucky would keep being angry at you. 

You were halfway through your second burger when Bucky walked out of the shower. With nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His wet, dark hair pushed back, droplets of water still dripping down his chest and abs. 

You swallowed your food before you choked, then looked away, acting as if the documentary on the TV was much more interesting to look at compared to your half naked boyfriend. 

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asked, and you noticed he was carrying a first-aid kit in his hands. 

You shook your head. 

“Nothing? No scratches, nothing?” He asked again. 

You shrugged, “Just a small cut. It’ll heal. Nothing serious.” 

He walked over to your side of the bed, and said, “Show me.” 

You didn’t want to argue so you placed your food aside, lifted your shirt and showed him the minuscule cut on your ribs. “It’s not–,” 

But he cut you off by placing the kit down and looking for some cotton and disinfectant. 

It burned as he cleaned in and put a little bandaid over it. It hurt even more when he didn’t kiss it after like he usually does whenever he tends to your cuts and wounds. 

You didn’t say a word though. And soon, you both finished your food in silence with only the TV and the approaching storm as noise in the background. 

The thunder got louder and louder as you both got into bed. That weird silent treatment continued, and by now you were annoyed as well. You’d admit, it was your fault for being so careless when he’d told you to be cautious. But didn’t he see that you needed him now? 

Couldn’t he see you wanted to be held? And kissed? And comforted? 

You frowned in the dark. The lights from outside came through the blinds and lit the room up a little bit. As did the lightning. You were the only one tossing and turning you noticed, Bucky was asleep it seemed. 

But the thunder, the new bed, the fear and stress from earlier, it was all keeping you from falling asleep. Plus, it was a little embarrassing to admit, but you liked being held while you fell asleep. But Bucky wasn’t even talking to you, and wrapping your own arms around yourself wasn’t working. 

Another hour went by. Now the heavy rain finally came, along with a proper thunder storm. And you couldn’t take it anymore. 

You turned to face Bucky and he had his eyes shut, facing you. Not a single item of clothing on his body, except for a thin sheet covering him from the waist down. You sighed, frowning a little in annoyance still but you couldn’t help but scoot closer to him, seeking his warmth and embrace. 

First you pressed into him, to see if he would stir or wake up. He didn’t. So you got bolder and took his metal arm and placed it around you, waiting again. He didn’t move. So you went to wrap your arms around him, and once you did, you heard his sleepy voice saying, “Oh, what’s this? Now you need me?” 

You froze, trying to see if you could pretend you were asleep already. He didn’t buy it. 

“I know you’re awake.” 

You sighed. “It’s the thunder.” You said, nuzzling his warm neck. 

“And you need daddy to protect you now, little bunny?” He mocked. “But when I try to tell you what to do to keep you safe you never listen.” 

You noticed he kept his arm around you, pulling you more into him even as he chided you. “I’m so sorry, Buck. It won’t happen again.” 

He hummed. “It better not.” 

You were quiet for a second or two, then said, “You were so mean to me earlier.” 

“I have to be.” He said sternly. “You never listen. You don’t take your training seriously, you think you’re ready to fight your way out, baby, but you’re not. All I asked you to do was not to leave that apartment until I got there. But you couldn’t help but be a brat, could you?” 

You squirmed in shame. “I don’t want you to be angry with me.” 

“Well,” He said, sounding sassy as he pulled you closer, “I am pissed. Deal with it.” 

You had had enough. You slipped out of his arms, “Stay here and brood then,” You tried to get out of bed, “I’ll sleep on one of the sofas–” 

Bucky didn’t let you. A loud thunder boomed right above as he pulled you back into bed and climbed on top of you. “Stop being fucking difficult.” He hissed. 

Before you could answer, his mouth was on yours. Beard scratching your face, his long hair tickling the sides of your face. 

His kiss was rough and it hurt in the best way. Bucky pulled away for a brief moment, squeezed your cheeks so you couldn’t close your mouth. “Brat.” Glaring down at you, he spat in your mouth before kissing you again. 

Your brain felt like it was floating. His kiss was hot. And messy. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, “Needy little brat. Can’t ever do as you’re told, can you? You almost got fucking killed today, but you don’t care about that. Do you? Huh?” 

You were quiet. Your brain was too foggy with lust to function. 

“Why are you quiet? No bratty words for daddy?” He asked, sliding his rough hands up and down your parted thighs. You spread them even more the moment he touched you and he smirked when he noticed it. “Go on, tell me to stop. Tell me to let you go.” He taunted, knowing full well you would never do that. 

All you did was whimper as he touched you mindlessly, sliding his fingers up and down your slit, spreading your wetness around. 

“You’re gonna listen from now on.” He stated. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll lock you in that apartment if I have to. But from now on, if I tell you it’s not safe out there, you do not leave that house. You hear me, princess?” 

Silence. Which earned you a slap on the thigh. You yelped in pain before glaring at him. “Fine,” You said, “Yes, I hear you. I’ll be good.” You whined. 

“Of course you will,” He said, his metal hand pinned you down on the bed by wrapping around your neck to keep you in place, while his other hand wrapped around his cock. Pumping it once, twice while holding your stare. “‘Cause I’ll have you over my knee and spank that little butt raw if you don’t.” 

You whimpered and squirmed because of how badly you needed him inside you. “I will. I’ll be so good,” You begged, “Buck, please.” 

Bucky wasted no time sliding inside of you. Giving you no time to even think, he moved in and out of you in a way that had you moaning out loud, not caring that the walls might be thin. 

The storm got louder somehow, thunder rumbling and lightning lighting up the room every now and then. The rain got heavier, silencing the rest of the world as Bucky fucked you. His body weight pressing down onto you in a way that made you never want to be anywhere else. 

It didn’t matter that you were in a small motel room, so far away from home. It didn’t matter that danger could still be lurking around. Nothing mattered, not when he held your stare as he fucked you hard and fast, barely giving you time to breathe right. 

He leaned in again, whispering against the corner of your open mouth, “Look how you behave the moment you have some cock in you. Is that all my baby wanted? Daddy’s cock? Hmm? Is this why you’ve been pouting for the past few hours?” He chuckled, spreading your thighs even more, “I’ve been mean to you, haven’t I?” He cooed, fucking into you deeper somehow. “I’ve been so mean by telling you just where you messed up and how bad things could’ve gotten if I didn’t reach you in time. I’m so mean to you, aren’t I?” He mocked you, scoffing, “Is that why your pussy is strangling my cock, baby? Because daddy’s so mean to you, is he?”

You could feel your face getting hotter as your walls clenched around him over and over again, as he sped up and pounded into you. You felt all of him stretching you out, filling you up, moving rapidly in and out of you until he was all you could focus on. 

“Is this what you wanted, little bunny?” He whispered, pounding into you relentlessly as he bent down to bite your lower lip and tug on it. “Is this enough to make you behave from now on, baby?” 

You moaned at how perfect his warm body felt on top of yours, his weight pressing down on you. His stubble tickled your skin as he kissed your face and bit on your lip. Your legs trembled as his thrusts, relentless and unbearably good. The pressure around your lower body grew, familiar, tight and hot.

The storm, the streetlights, and every little bit of light allowed you to see how Bucky looked down at you as you tightened around his cock. He smirked, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you each time he thrust in. “I killed for you today.” He whispered, “I saved you, and this is what I get? Attitude? A bratty girl? Not even a thank you,” He scoffed, “Not even a ‘thank you for saving me daddy’, nothing.” The cold cruelty in his voice only made you clench around him harder. 

His hand squeezed your throat again, making you moan even louder. “Dirty little slut. Look at you, all cock drunk.” He scoffed, giving you yet another messy kiss. “Are you gonna be good from now on?” 

“Yes,” You whined, not recognising your voice because of how desperate you sounded. Then again, only he could make you sound this way. You whimpered, unable to say anything else because of how good he felt sliding in and out of you. 

Fuck, you needed this. So much. You whined again when his hand let go of your throat, fingers trailing down your squirming body until his metal fingers found your clit, toying with it while he pounded into you mercilessly. 

“Yeah?” He stared deep into your eyes as he spoke. “You’re gonna be my good girl and listen to me?” 

You nodded, tears streaming down your face again. The exhaustion from earlier, the day you had survived. It was all too much. “Please…” You whimpered, squirming and unable to hold back anymore. You needed to come so bad. Your thoughts were a mess. 

“Good girl.” 

And you couldn’t hold back anymore. You came undone all around him. Moaning, your back arching off the bed as you came hard around his cock, tightening around him even harder than earlier. 

Bucky kept pounding into you as your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him violently. Your body trembling under him. “That’s it, babygirl. Come for daddy.” 

You could hear the untamed hunger in his deep, growly voice. He groaned until he came undone as well. You whined and whimpered as you felt him filling you up, his thrusts slowing down, his cum dripping down your inner thighs. 

—

You vaguely remember his cleaning the two of you. He let you rest for a minute, but then it seemed like he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. So he flipped you around, straddled you and began massaging your worn out body. 

He rubbed his rough hands all over your back, down your hips, and thighs. It was quiet for a while. Just the rain, the thunder, and the sound of Bucky breathing. 

Then you heard his gentle voice. “I can’t lose you. Not you.” He whispered, like he was saying it to himself, “Not you, baby.” 

Your heart throbbed and pinched.  

He leaned down and kissed the back of your neck, your shoulders, down your spine, all while massaging your body. “I don’t like being mean to you.” He kissed his way up again, nuzzling your ear and whispering, “Earlier today,” He spoke softly, “When I watched the tracker show me how fast you were getting further and further away, thinking about how they must’ve grabbed you. How easily, how quickly they took you, I–,” His voice cracked. 

You couldn’t help the tears anymore, “I’m sorry.” You tried to turn over and face him but he gently pushed you back down on the bed. 

“Shh,” He shut you up. “Just let me take care of you.” His hands touched you everywhere. Soft touches soothing the spots he’d grabbed harshly earlier. “You scared me, baby.” He kissed around the cut on your side. “For a moment I thought I’d never see you again.” 

“I’ll be good, I promise.” You sniffled, trying to look at him over your shoulder. “I’ll train harder, I’ll be better. I won’t let my guard down, ever.” 

He leaned in and kissed your lips gently. “You’re perfect.” He stated. “We’ll work on training you better. We’ll be okay. Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you. Always.” 

You gave him a teary smile and sheepishly said, “Thank you for saving me.” 

Bucky laughed softly, nuzzling your neck again, kissing your skin like he couldn’t get enough. “I would burn this entire world down if anyone tries to take you from me again.” 

You laid your head back down on the pillow, laughing softly. Thinking he was joking. 

He wasn’t.

[repulsiveliquidation]

Rain || Alexia Putellas

warnings : smut (18+), somnophilia (consensual sex while asleep), anal sex, rimming, strap-on sex, choking, spanking, fingering, rough sex)

a/n : hii! just a little something i whipped up while at work today :)

There was rain pouring down outside, the sun hiding behind dark clouds. The pitter-patter of raindrops slowly begged Alexia to go back to sleep but she fought hard, the warmth beside her was way more tempting than a few more hours of sleep. 

She scooted over, arm slipping under the sheets to pull at the smaller form that was softly snoring beside her. She felt the heat of your skin, chest rising and falling steadily in your sleep. 

Soft kisses along your nape and shoulder lulled you out of your snooze, a grumpy groan already dragging through your voicebox. 

“Ale, it’s Sunday, go back to sleep…”

“Sí, sí, sleep.”

The captain wasn’t going to let you off that easily. She’d gotten back late from Sevilla last night and crashed almost immediately, staying awake just long enough to shovel food into her mouth. Now, with the whole day to waste with you, she didn’t want to miss a second of “personal time.” 

You’re snoring again, this time much louder and much clearer. Alexia sat up looking annoyed, staring at your back that faced her. Her eyes, having the mind of their own, wandered along the shape of you. There was a little skin showing along your back where your shirt was riding up, toned back teasing her intentionally. 

“Fuck mi amor, how am I supposed to resist you?” 

Alexia, in her stroke of genius, pulls the covers off gently and climbs out of bed. She tiptoes to the closet, rummaging quietly for her strap. She finds it and quietly runs back to get it on. 

Alexia stands beside you, clothes stripped off and strap hanging low from her hips. Very carefully, Alexia pulls the blanket off you, the pattering of rain now much softer as it stops. You’ve got the prettiest lace underwear on, a deep maroon that was secretly her favorite. 

You were fully on your stomach now, your snores an abbreviated version of what they were earlier, muffled by your pillows. 

Alexia lifted your matching lace top, the ruffled edges seemingly turned her on even more. There was a pause when you shifted under her and she quickly stood on her knees, taking her weight off you. You simply pushed a leg up towards your chest and sighed, nuzzling your face into the pillow. Alexia gently sat back down, softly kissing your exposed back as she fought to keep her hips from involuntarily grinding into you. 

“Mmh, you’ve always been so fucking beautiful princesa, even when you were sleeping.”

She slowly pulled your panties to the side, exposing your already soaking cunt. Her mouth waters, jaw aching as she scoots down to taste you. 

Her tongue is warm and flat against your pussy, lapping gently at your sticky folds. Her eyes make sure you’re still asleep, fingers very very gently pulling your thick thighs apart. You give Alexia no indication of knowing what she was doing, so she gets a little brave. She spreads your ass and watches your asshole pucker at her, practically asking her to have a taste. 

When she does, she watches as your eyebrows furrow in pleasure. You always were a little anal whore, the feeling of her tongue on your ass never failed to drive your arousal up. 

Alexia spat on your ass, thumb gently rubbing it in. It caught on the edge a few times and Alexia had to stop herself from clenching her own thighs together. Your pussy was dripping, the gentle throb of your heartbeat was delightfully obvious to Alexia. 

“Ale…?” 

“Bon dia, princesa,” Alexia whispered sexily, helping as you gently turned onto your back.

“Más, por favor,” you whined, legs draping wide open over her shoulders. Alexia grinned maniacally, nodding gently at your sexy request. 

A dainty finger slips into Alexia’s mouth, the noisy slurping that reaches your ears only makes the throb between your legs all the more intense.  

She pushes it into your ass gently, gorgeous eyes meeting yours as she gently fingers you open. You feel the stretch just a little more than usual, a pleasant ache plastering a satisfied grin on your face. Alexia pulls away to suck on her fingers a little more, pushing two digits into you when they’re wet enough. Your hips grind down into her slowly, fingers gathering a little spit from your mouth to use to play with your clit. Alexia audibly groans, watching as you double your pleasure. 

She gets that manic smile on her face again, pulling her fingers out of your ass before kneeling between your legs. You’re still playing with your clit when her fingers jam themselves into your mouth. You’re taken aback and gag loudly, Alexia’s eyes rolling into her head when you keen. 

Alexia fingers your mouth while you touch yourself, your fingers aching to slip into your pussy and mimic her fingers in your mouth. You can taste yourself on her fingers and that only spurs you on, your first orgasm building up hard and fast. 

She pulls her fingers away from your lips when you begin to gurgle your warning, soaking wet fingers expertly finding your pussy before slamming in to send you into your first orgasm. 

“Ale!” you moan, muscles spasming in pleasure. 

“Sí, buena chica,” Alexia praises, fingertips jabbing your sweet spot with no mercy. 

Alexia doesn’t bother to give you a little heads up, pulling away for less than a minute to prep her strap. She lubes it up and smears the rest on your asshole, pulling your thighs over hers before she’s pushing into you. 

“Taking me so well, beautiful,” she coos, thumbing softly at your swelling clit. 

“Ale,” you beg, “Ale, por favor.”

“Sí, te lo daré, cariño, I’ll give it to you.”

Give it to you she does. Her hips pound up into you, shoulders barely touching the bed. Your long manicured fingers can’t find material to hold onto. Blood rushes to your head and you can feel the world of pleasure consume you. 

Alexia bends you in half, thighs pressed tight against your chest. Her skin slaps yours, hips thrusting into your ass rough and hard. Her teeth are gritted together, eyes dark and lustrous. 

“Is this what you wanted, cariño?” 

“Fuck, yes!” 

Alexia turns you on your side, pounding right into you deeper this way. She takes a breast in her mouth, suckling hard as she fondles the other. You can barely moan, everytime you relish in a sensation she gives you a new one to drool about. 

“Hold yourself open, my pretty little slut,” Alexia leans by your ear to whisper, watching as you do as she says. She lubes her left fingers up just a touch, warming the gel up before slipping them into your pussy.

Now stuffed in two places, Alexia’s hips thrust in while her fingers pull out, repeating this sequence like a well-oiled machine. It was utterly dizzying; you were seeing stars. 

The captain, seemingly impressed by her own handiwork, now moved her freehand wherever else she could. She dragged her nails along your tummy, kneading your breasts one after the other. She gave them a few love taps that rattled them deliciously, making her eyes roll into her head just a little before they reached their final destination. 

Your neck loved Alexia’s hands. They wrapped around your throat so perfectly. Her thumb and index finger always pressed the right spot to deprive you of just enough air to give your vision a few black spots. 

“Fuck!” you choke, the tug behind your naval intensified as Alexia fucked you harder and faster. 

“Coming, my love?” 

“Can’t Ale, please–”

“Come, slut,” Alexia spat, hips pounding you into the mattress so hard the frame was shaking. 

You come and she lets go of your neck, the breath of fresh air that fills your lungs somehow intensifies your orgasm. You’re shaking and moaning her name, body trembling and twitching from the shocks. 

Alexia draws the hottest bath she can, gently climbing in with you in her arms. The steaming water soothes your aching limbs, bringing relief. 

She holds you close and leaves the softest kisses along your shoulder and neck. You giggle and settle into her arms, feeling safe and sound. 

“I missed you,” you mutter after a while, looking up at her as she smiles.

“I missed you too, princesa,” she whispers, tilting your head a little more to kiss you. It’s soft and tender, filling both your hearts with love. 

“I love you,” she whispers when she pulls away, strong arms wrapping tighter around you as the sound of more rain fills the room. 

[svtiddiess]

Thot Hour

Synopsis: You're supposed to be mad at Mingyu, but how can you when he's looking so delicious working out…wearing only his boxers?

Pairing: Mingyu x afab!reader

Genre: smut, one shot, established relationship

Rating: mature

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: pet names (baby, puppy), unprotected sex (don't do this!), penetrative sex, overstimulation, sub!Gyu, thigh riding, creampie, jealous reader, biting, Mingyu in Calvin Klein boxers (yes, that needs a warning), jealous reader, kinda mean dom! reader, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: This was inspired by a dream I had. Guess which part I dreamt of.

Big love to @tomodachiii and @tusswrites for helping me with the plot and beta reading!

Click here to join my taglist!

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

"Baby, I said I was sorry."

You could hear the desperation in his voice as he apologised for the umpteenth time today. He stands before you, placing your hands against his chest, whipping out the puppy eyes. You'd fall for it in any other instance, but today, when you're this annoyed, nothing works.

"Baby, I told you what I did was just fan service. They don't mean anything. You're the only one I have feelings for," you hear him almost whine as he pouts at you.

Yes, that's what you're pissed about: him giving fan service. You may seem petty, but you have valid reasons for getting upset. You don't mind him giving fan service; it's part of the job. But lately, it seems as if he's giving a bit too much fan service.

Several moments of his fan service have gone viral, littering your feed with constant comments from fans stating how he's the perfect man. And he is, but just not at the moment. Not even when he looks down at you with his precious big eyes blinking at you, resembling a puppy. If you stared hard enough, you could swear his ears had drooped a bit, lips pursued in a pout that seemed to dissolve your anger.

Stay strong; you have to prove your point.

Huffing, you snatch your hands back from his, afraid you'll cave in if you stare for even a second longer. He lets out a defeated sigh, walking away, leaving you to brood alone.

Several minutes pass, with you wallowing in your self-pity before you are interrupted by the sound of grunting. Straining your ears, you catch on to the louder grunts and huffs from the other room. Shifting your eyes to the nearby clock, you stare at the time and widen in realisation.

It's 6 pm.

6 pm is Mingyu's usual workout time, infamously known as Thot Hour. Why, you ask? Well, it's the time of day when you sit back, relax, and shamelessly ogle at your beefy boyfriend working out. If you're lucky enough, he might end his workout with cardio, which involves you between his legs.

Losing the silent debate in your head, you make the right decision to go and watch him work out; just cause you're mad at him doesn't mean you're not allowed to appreciate eye candy. You will not let the fangirls take this away from you.

You enter the home gym that Mingyu has slowly built over the years, jaw-dropping at the sight. There he is, your boyfriend, Kim Mingyu, working out in nothing but his Calvin Klein boxers.

"What are you doing?" You ask, clearly not expecting the sight in front of you.

He sets down his weights with a grunt and then looks at you with a straight face.

"Working out," he deadpans as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"In just your boxers?" you ask, waving hands around his body to emphasise your point.

"It's a hot day today," he shrugs casually, but you can see him fighting off a smirk.

Cocky, arrogant son of a bitch.

You scoff and turn around to take your prime seat to watch him work out; you will not let him win. You pull out your phone, purposefully ignoring him (or trying to, at least). Upon noticing this, Mingyu grunts and moans even louder, trying to win your attention. And while you try your best to ignore his obnoxious sounds, you can't help but get a peek at him from your peripheral vision.

Ooh, you're drooling on sight. His muscles contract and relax every time he moves. His head's thrown back; his eyes scrunched up in concentration while his already big muscles visibly get even bigger due to the pump. Your eyes are drawn to the sweat dripping down his almost naked sculpted body and the prominent bulge straining against his boxers.

Fuck, he looks so juicy.

Your boyfriend was big everywhere, and he prides himself on it whenever he splits you open. His bulge looks so big, and he's not even fully hard yet. Gulping hard, when you notice a small wet patch on his boxers. Too bad he notices you staring and smirks.

"Like what you see, baby?" He asks with a cocky cadence to his voice.

You quickly snap out of it and scoff, remembering you're supposed to be angry at him. You go back to staring at your phone, making him chuckle. God, you wanted to wipe that smirk off his face so bad.

Then it hits you: the perfect revenge plan. You smirk to yourself as you put away your phone and start stripping down to your underwear as well.

Two can play that game, Kim Mingyu.

He's halfway through his set when he notices you. He drops the weights and turns to look at you, visibly confused.

"What're you doing, baby?"

"Like you said, it's a hot day," you shrug, mirroring his actions from earlier.

He looks with intensity as you move to unroll a yoga mat. You smirk to yourself when you hear him groan when you begin stretching and purposely manoeuvring your body into tempting yoga poses. From the corner of your eye, you can see Mingyu get more and more riled up as the poses get more and more provocative. You hear him whine by the time you’re doing t the 'Cat-Cow' pose, your ass facing him. You shift to face him with a cocky smirk on your face.

"Why're you whining, Gyu?"

"I can't focus if you act like this baby," he whines.

"Like what?"

"You know what," he huffs and pouts like a child.

You shrug, then go back to doing more poses. You see him approach you with a permanent pout plastered on his face. He crouches down to your level and tries to touch you, but you quickly swat his hand away.

"Thought you were working out?"

"Baby, please," he whines, and you can almost taste the desperation in his words. This is fuelling your ego a bit too much.

"I need your help; it's becoming too painful," he strains, and you look down at his now fully hard bulge. It was huge and had you salivating, but you can't give in, not yet, at least. Not when your pettiness from earlier sets in.

"Go ask your fangirls for help," you huff and scoot away from him, sitting down on the mat.

He shifts to kneel in front of you. "Please, baby. I'm sorry. I'm yours and only yours. I promise I won't act out of line ever again. Please, please, please just touch me. It hurts so bad, baby, please," he's full-on begging at this point, and you're sure you can see tears pricking the corner of his eyes.

Something about a 6-foot-something man kneeling in front of you and begging for you to touch him makes you feel powerful. You smirk, knowing you have Mingyu exactly where you want him, desperate and needy in front of you. If he's going to act out of line, then you'll just have to put him in his place.

"You want me to touch you, Gyu?" You tilt your head and pout in faux sympathy.

"Please," he whispers, voice straining as he tries his best not to cry.

"Sit down."

You stand up, giving Mingyu room to sit on the yoga mat. He sits down with his legs outstretched on the mat. Shifting above him, you move to sit on one of his thick thighs, almost moaning at the contact.

"You're gonna sit here and take whatever I give you like a good puppy; if I catch you touching me, I won't let you finish. Okay?"

He nods frantically, desperate for anything at this point. Slowly, you start grinding against his thigh, moaning his name and holding onto his shoulders for support. He moans at the feeling of his thigh slowly getting more and more coated in your arousal. He throws his head back and grips onto the yoga mat below to prevent himself from touching you.

You lean forward and start leaving bite marks on his neck and shoulders. You make sure to bite down extra hard in places that would be visible even if he was wearing a shirt. He whimpers and groans at the feeling of your teeth digging into his skin.

"Mine," you mumble against his skin.

"Yours, only yours," he whimpers, body straining to keep still.

You start grinding on his thigh faster, determined to reach your high; Mingyu notices this and flexes his thigh, giving you more stimulation. You pant and whine out his name, getting close to the edge.

"Fuck, please cum. Cum all over my thigh, please," Mingyu whines out desperately, tipping you over the edge.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, making him hiss as you cum all over his thigh, your arousal drenching the bare skin. Resting your head against his shoulder, you take a minute to catch your breath.

"Baby, please, need you so bad. It hurts too much," he whimpers.

You look down and notice the wet patch on his boxers got bigger. You snake your hands down and cup his bulge, making him hiss.

"Yeah? It hurts?" You whisper whilst grinding your hand against his bulge, making him moan out and nod frantically.

"Please, I can't take it anymore," he whines, tears escaping his eyes.

"I don't know, Gyu; I don't think you earned it," you hum in faux pity, jutting your lips in consideration.

"No, no! Please, I'm begging you. I can't take it anymore," he cries out, desperately bucking into your hand.

"Why don't you ask your fangirls, huh? Since you seem to be more desperate to please them than me," you mock, squeezing him hard, causing him to let out a desperate sob.

"No! No, please! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! It's only you that I want. I'll be good. I promise!" He cries out, distraught clear in his eyes, with tears now streaming down his face. You can see him try so hard to restrain himself from touching you.

You smirk with satisfaction as you watch your big, beefy boyfriend break under you. You remove your hand from his bulge and move it to wipe his tears from his face.

"Oh, you poor thing," you coo, "How badly does it hurt baby?"

"It hurts so bad," he sniffs, "I need you so badly, please."

"I don't know," you hum and move to get off his lap, "You've been a bad puppy lately, and you know bad puppies get punished, right?"

His eyes widen, and his hands fly to grab your hips to prevent you from moving away from him.

"No, no, no!" He begs, "Please, don't leave! Please!" Tugging you back onto his thigh, he pleads, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'll be good! I'll be a good puppy! I swear!"

"What did I say about touching me?" You tch, and his mouth falls open in realisation, and he quickly retracts his hands as if he's burned you.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, please. Forgive me, please." He whimpers.

You shake your head and sigh. "I did warn you, Gyu," you sigh and stand up.

In an act of desperation, he manhandles you back onto the mat, making you lie on it. You let out a squeak as your back hits the mat.

"Fuck, I can't take it anymore," he murmurs before smashing his lips onto yours into a messy and desperate kiss. You kiss back with equal fervour, tangling your fingers in his permed hair. He starts grinding against you like a bitch in heat, letting out small whimpers and pants between the kisses.

He separates from you and quickly discards whatever remaining clothing the both of you have, throwing it to god knows where. You look down at his cock; it's thick and angry, with beads of precum dripping down it. Spreading your thighs, he aligns his tip against your entrance and starts slowly pushing in. You gasp and grab onto his shoulders; no matter how many times he fucks you, you can never get used to his huge size.

"I don't think I can go slow," he rasps. He's not even halfway in, and you already feel so full. Without warning, he slams the rest of him into you, causing you to scream out his name so loud you're sure the neighbours heard you. Your eyes roll to the back when you feel his tip kiss your cervix.

His thrusts are sloppy and erratic. Neither of you are thinking straight anymore. Your thoughts are only filled with how big he is and how good it feels being split open on his cock whilst his own thoughts are only filled with how warm you feel and how you're perfectly wrapped around him.

"S-Shit, I'm cumming," he pants out. He cums whilst moaning out your name, filling you up to the brim with his seeds. He chokes back a whine, but he doesn't stop thrusting. He snakes his hand down to your clit and starts rubbing it in circles, desperate to make you cum as well.

"Please, cum. Please cum all over me," he whines out, body shaking from overstimulation. After a few more thrusts, you cum, hard, convulsing around him. He pants and whines as you squeeze around him. After a few more clumsy thrusts, he collapses onto you.

"Gyu! You're heavy!" You whine.

"But you're so cuddly and warm," he says breathlessly as he wraps his arms around you and squeezes you, making you grumble.

"Are you still mad at me?" He looks at you with a pout.

You grin an easy smile, wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing him, causing him to groan reflexively.

"I don't know. Maybe you should fuck me again just to be sure."

[nathaslosthershit]

Emotional Times (OP81)

Summary: Pregnancy was a time full of hardships. Hormones on high, stress of the incoming baby, and all the sudden changes were what this father-to-be was expecting, ready to face. What he wasn't expecting was having to battle his pregnant wife's newfound sensitivity to everything that could have her emotions changing in an instant Part of my summer event!

It has been a rough time in the Piastri household. Oscar loves his wife, he really does, and god, would he move heaven and earth for her. In her current state though, she doesn’t know whether she wants heaven or earth and if he brings her the wrong one she will burst into tears, but if he brings her the right one, she will also burst into tears.

There wasn’t any winning. During moments like that, he just had to remember that greener grass on the other side. The other side where he finally has his own little family. 

The couple had also both made peace with the fact he would be traveling a lot during the season and she would have to spend some of her pregnancy by herself. It was easy while she could travel in the beginning but a few complications cut her ability to do so off much sooner than the two would have liked. And she did not like this. 

“Honey, please, get back in bed.” Oscar begged at 5 am. He was ready to head off to his next race, when he unintentionally woke his very pregnant wife up after giving her a kiss on the forehead.

This made her frustrated, she had finally gone to sleep after spending so much of the night tossing and trying to turn and the minute she drifts off he has the audacity to-

Then she realized he kissed her on the forehead because he was leaving her. 

Now, she was holding onto him by the front door, in absolute tears at the thought she would have to do another race weekend alone.

“Please, my love. It absolutely breaks my heart to leave you but I have no choice. Don’t make this harder for me…” Oscar tried to reason with her, but he was on the brink of tears himself seeing how much she wanted him to stay, realizing how much he wanted to stay. But he couldn’t.

“Oscar, I can’t do it, please it's so hard being here all alone. I know it's cliché but I can’t even tie my shoes. How am I supposed to do anything? How am I supposed to take care of a baby when I can’t take care of myself?”

He knew she wasn’t trying to guilt him into staying or make him feel bad if he did leave. These were real concerns she had voiced before. But he felt so helpless in this moment, almost as helpless as she felt constantly. 

The realization hit him, he couldn’t leave her like this. It was unfair to both of them. He had to do something.

“I will figure something out, don’t worry, Honey. Go back to sleep and when you wake up it will be much better, I promise.” He really shouldn’t promise that when he didn’t have a plan, but he couldn’t come up with one while she was sobbing into his neck and holding on for dear life.

With a few hiccups and a small nod, he wiped her tears and gave her a kiss as he left the apartment. 45 minutes later than he would have liked, hopefully the group he was sharing the jet with didn’t leave him behind. 

She already felt better when she woke up, having gotten hours of sleep, finally. It felt so good to wake up well rested and without that many aches. Nothing could bring her mood down.

Except when she couldn’t get in touch with her husband.

She knew he was traveling, that the minute his plane landed he was off to start preparing for the upcoming race. But no calls and no messages soured her mood real fast. 

She tried to shake it off, she went about her day trying not to dwell on it, trying not to send him threatening messages for not answering her the second she texted him. 

A call woke her up the next morning, well it was noon but she still wasn't pleased. Not till she saw who was calling.

“Oh sweetheart! How are you?” Nicole Piastri asked.

If there was one person she loved almost as much as her husband, it was his mother.

“I’m okay, haven’t heard from Oscar much, that asshole.” she grumbled.

“Oh I remember the days, that's why I have my twitter afterall.” Nicole said, making her laugh. It was sometimes a wonder how her husband was Nicole’s son. 

“Yeah well i-”

“Oh crap, honey, I have to go! But I’ll see you soon, okay? Hang tight!” Nicole said before hanging up.

She didn’t have time to dwell on the abrupt end to the call as a knock came from the front door. Connecting the two, she wobbled as fast as she could to the door, where her mother-in-law stood. 

And then she burst into tears.

“Oh, he told me you were going to do that but I didn’t know it would be that immediate,” Nicole said as she went to hug her. 

Through the tears and snot, she asked “Oscar? What do you mean?”

“He said he texted you, gosh, he is the worst at communication for someone who spends so much time on his phone,” she frowned at her daughter-in-law.

Quickly opening her texts, she saw he had messaged her a few hours ago:

Oscar: I told you I had a plan, just a few more hours, my love. I can’t wait to see you in a few days :) 

Thus the mother and daughter-in-law started their girls weekend. My god, it was exactly what she needed. As much as she loved her husband, this was 1000 times better than what she would have done if he was here. And despite how much she missed him, the weekend seemed to fly by. 

Oscar: How is she? I am only half an hour away.

Nicole: Currently napping, but she has been good! Relaxed and happy. Hasn’t even cried in the past few days

Oscar: Wow, I am almost offended she didn’t miss me more?

Nicole: She needed girl time, you couldn’t give that to her sweetheart. She also needed someone who actually knew how to correctly do laundry.

Oscar: Alright, mum, nice talking to you. I'll be back soon, please don’t turn my wife against me.

Nicole: 😉

Just as he did when he was leaving, Oscar unintentionally woke his pregnant wife up when kissing her on the forehead. Unlike when he was leaving, she didn’t get upset. She was too happy to see him that the thought hadn’t even occurred to her.

Holding him in a death grip, she recounted all she did while he was gone. She couldn’t really go out much at this point, so hearing his mom still found a way to make her weekend enjoyable was a relief. 

“I haven’t even cried over something stupid in a while!” She said as she finished her account of the past few days.

“I heard, I am glad you are feeling so much better, my love. I hated being gone but hearing you had a wonderful time makes me so happy.” He said as he began to tear up, thinking about how awful it was to leave. 

“Oscar, come on, just cause i'm not as emotional doesn’t mean you have to make up for it” She teased.

After pestering him about how his time away was, he remembered he had picked up something for her, and while he bought it thinking he would use it to stop her tears, why not just give it to her while she is this happy.

“I picked up your favorite,” he said as he reluctantly handed her the food he got, shuddering at the unusual combination she loved oh so much.

The sound of her son gagging as he watched his wife eat had Nicole coming into the room to investigate. The picture of her pregnant daughter-in-law, happy as a clam while she ate her food, and her son holding his nose and trying to stop himself from throwing up was a sight she committed to memory and knew she was going to bring up for years to come. 

“What have you got there?” Nicole asked, knowingly making Oscar gag again as he was reminded of the food combination.

“Cottage cheese and ketchup,” she answered. Instead of disgust, the couple was confused by the light bulb moment Nicole seemed to have.

“My goodness! That is what I craved with Oscar. Gross to think about now but I loved it then.”

“What! You never told me this?” Oscar asked, astounded he would be the reason his mom had to eat a combination that disgusted him so.

“I was saving it for the next podcast I did. Think I’ll have to talk about this moment too.” His mom teased. 

Rolling his eyes, he turned to his wife and immediately clocked in on the frown beginning to form.

Both mother and son had the same exact thought: Uh oh.

“You- you craved the same thing?” She stuttered out.

“Um, yeah? You okay, Honey?” Nicole asked, now on edge at the incoming storm.

Seconds of silence went by but were soon disrupted by the sounds of his wife’s cries as she took in the information.

“Baby, what's wrong? Why are you upset at that?” Oscar questioned as he went to rub her back in comfort.

“Its just- that is so sweet, and the thought that- that I could be having the same cravings, is just- I just-” His wife didn’t get to finish her sentence as more wails came out, followed by hiccuping.  

Nicole and Oscar looked at each other in alarm as they realized that this was most likely the consequence of a weekend with no breakdowns. They had a long night ahead of them. 

[forhappysake]

Never Forget a Face

A/N - Why is titling fics so hard? I used a Hunger Games quote because it fit so well so lmk if you can pick it out. Nearly 5K words, not proofread.

Summary - After the end of a bloody case, Emily tasks a begrudging Spencer with checking in on the newbie. Warnings - Spencer x fem!reader, typical BAU-level violence, murder, kn!ves, season 12/13 spoilers, extensive handwashing (?), a bitter post-prison reid with a grumpy x sunshine plot

My hands are stained red.

That was your first coherent thought as you stared in the bathroom mirror. The fluorescent lighting cast a pale glow over your face, making you look more ghostly than you already did. Your once blue shirt was covered in splotches. Your hands, dangling over the sink, were the color of burnt rust. 

As you turned on the faucet and applied soap to your hands, your brain replayed the events that brought you here. 

This was only your second case with the team. Hell, it was only your fourth case with the bureau. All you wanted to do was fit in. You’d heard great things about the BAU: the highly decorated Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, the face of the FBI - Jennifer Jareau, and the sought-after genius of Dr. Spencer Reid. 

The first case with the BAU had gone well. You’d done a lot of the grunt work, putting in an intense number of hours in a dingy police precinct pouring over paperwork with Dr. Reid, who kept telling you to call him Spencer. Despite this faux friendliness, you couldn’t help but get the feeling he was tired of working with you. 

Not that you could blame him. You were, by all definitions, a newbie. He had over a decade of experience and a serious reputation. A genius to boot, his sighs and looks often made you feel like you were in his way more than you were actually helping. Hence why, when Emily had asked for two volunteers to tail a suspect for the day, you’d quickly volunteered to go with the charming Luke Alvez. 

Six hours later, Luke, along with yourself, had tracked an unsub while he was taking his latest victim back to his home in a rural area. Back-up, which was supposed to be on the way, wouldn’t be there for at least twenty minutes. When the first blood-curdling scream rang out from the house, the two of you knew you had no choice but to act alone. 

Luke went in through the front door, making his presence known as you tiptoed around the side of the house to enter undetected. When you found a cracked window, you were able to slip inside without much issue. 

In that moment, you remembered hearing Luke attempting to talk down the unsub. You approached their voices, careful not to let anyone know you were inside. 

“How do you think this is going to end?” Luke asked the unsub, his voice firm. 

The unsub had laughed and the muffled cries of his victim could be heard from your spot. You tucked yourself quietly behind a hallway entrance into the room Luke was in. You peeked around the corner to let him know you were there. His only acknowledgment of you was a brief glance, but that was all you needed to know that he wanted you to stay in place. 

“I think,” the unsub started, with more cries coming from his captive, “that she’ll probably die before this is all over.” 

You tried to recall the profile. Emily’s voice replayed in your mind. 

“He kills with a knife and dumps the body in a secondary location, meaning he gets the women alone and gets close to them before he kills them. Based on the demographics of this region, he’s probably a white man. Likely in his 30s. Attractive but single, most definitely living alone. That’s his selling point. That’s how he’s managed to lure all these women into his vehicle.”

Nothing stuck out to you about him. There was nothing you could think to do to help in this situation besides hide behind the wall. You were waiting for a signal from Luke or the sound of backup approaching. 

Luke cleared his throat and you could picture him shaking his head. “It doesn’t have to be like this, man. Let her go and I can help you.”

The unsub laughed again and you cringed. There was something so unsettling about his voice and his laughter. 

The unsub started to speak, but his voice was cut off by the sound of sirens wailing in the distance. This was your moment. 

You whirled around the corner, gun drawn. “FBI, don’t move,” you warned. The unsub turned to look at you. His cold blue eyes bore a hole in your head. A shiver ran through your spine. “Drop the knife.” 

He appeared irritated, rolling his neck as if trying to work out a kink. He glanced down at his victim. Her eyes were wide and frantic, tears streaming down her face. She was bound and a piece of cloth was tied around her face as a makeshift gag. He pulled her up to his height by her hair, eliciting more cries.

 “Well sweetheart, this isn’t how I pictured this ending for us. I hope you’ll forgive me,” he said as he raised the knife to her throat. 

“Wait!” Luke shouted. 

It was too late. What followed next was nothing short of chaos. 

Luke let off two shots, both of which connected with the unsub. His body cascaded to the floor. You lunged forward at the poor victim. Her throat, now cut, was bleeding at an alarming rate. However, her eyes remained open and the gasps coming from her mouth told you she was still breathing. 

You threw yourself on the floor next to her, removing the gag from her mouth and placing it over her neck as a makeshift tourniquet. 

“Do you hear that?” you asked, the sirens were right outside the house. “Help is almost here, okay? You have to keep your eyes on me.” Her glassy eyes were locked on yours, but the panic was fading from them with the little life she had left. The cloth in your hands was soaked with blood and your hands were turning a deep shade of crimson. 

You shook your head. “No, no. Come on. Look at me,” you tried to encourage her to hold on just for another moment. 

In the midst of your mumbling, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You whirled around to see Luke crouched behind you. 

“She’s gone, Y/N,” he said gently. His eyes were locked on her lifeless body. You furrowed your brow, denial coursing through your veins. 

Just as you were about to protest, the EMTs burst through the door with Emily and Dr. Reid in tow. Luke pulled you out of the way as they tended to both the victim and the unsub. 

The four of you watched helplessly from the corner of the room. You felt your body shake gently, adrenaline getting the best of you. You could feel Reid’s eyes on you. His judgement making you more anxious. 

You watched as one of the EMTs working on the victim turned to look at you. He shook his head gently, a sign that she really was gone. 

You'd never forget her face.

A sigh of defeat left your lips and tears welled up in your eyes. In a moment driven by pure emotion, you shot out of the house and back towards the SUV.

Luke sprinted out the front door after you. “Where are you going?” he shouted, clearly confused by your sudden burst of determination. 

“Back to the hotel,” you said matter-of-factly, sliding into the driver’s seat of the car. He rushed over to the driver’s door, holding it open so you couldn’t slam it shut. 

He looked incredulous. “And who am I supposed to ride with?”

You rolled your eyes. “Luke, two people just died and you’re worried about who your chauffeur is going to be.” 

Luke seemed to get the message he pulled back from the door, allowing you to shut it. You started the SUV, cracking the window just enough to shout, “Catch a ride with Reid and Emily.”

You pulled out onto the highway, foot heavy on the pedal as adrenaline still run through you. 

Nearly half an hour later and still covered in blood, you stumbled into the hotel lobby. The desk lady, panicked, quickly rushed in front of you. The lady, presumably Linda based on her nametag, asked you if she needed to call the police. You’d shown her your badge with a bitter laugh, explaining that you were the police. The smell of her floral perfume was making your head spin more than it already was. Thankfully, with a sympathetic smile, she’d moved out of your way and allowed you to proceed to your room. 

Which was how you ended up here, trying to scrub blood off of your still-shaky hands. You weren’t sure how long you’d been at this, but you couldn’t quit now. The dark evidence was still embedded deep beneath your fingernails. 

-SPENCER’S POV-

Walking into the house behind Emily, I could already see the mess that had unraveled. There was blood on the wall, where the unsub lay propped up but clearly dead as if he’d landed sitting up. There was blood on the floor, covering the lifeless body of the last victim. 

And there was blood all over her, the new girl, who was standing in the corner. Her eyes stared off into the distance, and she looked like she could faint at any moment. 

She was nice. Too innocent for the job, clearly. If I hadn’t been sure about that from the other case we worked together, it was evident now. 

Emily and I walked over to the corner, standing beside Y/N and Luke as the EMTs worked on both the unsub and the victim on the other side of the room. Despite the gory scene before us, I couldn’t bring myself to take my eyes off Y/N yet. Thoughts laced with sympathy crept into my mind and I resisted the urge to reach out and put a hand on her shoulder. 

Just as I was about to do just that, the closest EMT turned to her and shook his head. The victim, as the unsub, was dead. She let out a sound that I could only describe as a shudder before she raced out the front door. 

“What the hell?” Luke asked, following her out. 

Emily sighed, staring at the two bodies before us as the EMTs packed up their things. “Kind of a harsh second case for the kid, huh?” she asked. 

I thought for a moment and shrugged, pushing sympathy away. “It’s not like it gets any easier from here on out, she might as well get used to it now.” I turned and started to walk out of the house, just in time to watch the new girl whip the SUV out of the driveway and hightail it back towards town. Though I wasn’t looking at her, I felt Emily shoot me a look. 

“You’d have never said a thing like that before you went away, Spencer,” she scolded. 

I took a deep breath. She was probably right. “No, I wouldn’t have, but things are different now,” I said plainly. 

I walked down the front porch steps and out on to the lawn where Luke was waiting for us, impatiently resting a hand on the handle of the SUV’s door. 

“Where’s your ride?” I quipped sarcastically. 

He shook his head. “Don’t start. It’s been a long day for all of us.” 

Emily caught up to me, pulling the SUV keys out of her pocket and unlocking the door so Luke could climb inside. As he did, she turned to me. 

“When we get back to the hotel, I want you to go check on Y/N.”

I felt my face contort in a scoff. “Why would I be the one to do that?” 

“Because,” Emily said, staring at the SUV before us, “someone needs to.” 

“So why don’t you?” I challenged, growing more exasperated by the second. 

Emily snapped her head to the side, her eyes shooting daggers at me. “Spencer,” she said sharply. I looked at her, trying to read her microexpressions. “I worry about you. Do you get that?” 

That wasn’t the reply I was expecting. 

I averted my eyes to the ground, somewhat ashamed of my previous attitude. “Yeah, I know.” 

“I want you to check on her because she needs someone who has seen bad things to explain to her that those bad things are survivable,” she started, eyes still locked on my face. I glanced up at her as she continued. 

“And, I want you to check on her because I think it would be good for you,” she finished. 

“Good for me?” I asked, with less attitude and more curiosity this time. 

Emily sensed the shift in my demeanor and I could see her shoulders relax. “Yes, good for you. Ever since you came back, you never stay out after cases anymore. Remember how we all used to go out together? Have a couple drinks? Relax?” 

I nodded because I did remember.  Those were some of the best memories of my life. 

“All you do anymore is go home or back to the hotels and hide in your room until the next morning, reading Vigotsky or Tarkovsky or whatever you do.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was reading the works of Dostoyevsky, so I let her continue uninterrupted. 

“It’s time for you to do some socializing. I think talking about yourself might do you some good for once. Besides, Y/N really is a ray of sunshine once you get to know her. I think her company will be good for you.” 

I thought about what she said for a moment. She wasn’t entirely wrong. “Alright,” I said, “I’ll stop by her room before I go to bed for the night.”

Satisfied with my answer, Emily proceeded to the SUV. 

Soon enough, we were back at the hotel. I thought about how to proceed. Should I go to her room immediately? Should I wait and change out of my work clothes first? 

Absolutely not. Talking is one thing. Wearing my pajamas in front of her? That’s too personal. 

I decided to head straight to her room. Ripping the bandaid off seemed like the best option. 

I strolled down the hall and stopped in front of her door. I placed three quick knocks on the door and waited. And waited. I knocked again. Nothing. 

Maybe she’d gone out for the evening, I reasoned. Or, maybe she was asleep. Regardless, I was ready to turn and go back to my room when I heard the faintest sound of running water coming from inside. 

My mind raced. She was surely just in the shower, right? Or maybe running a bath? The FBI agent in me freaked out. What if she’d went off the deep end and was trying to drown herself? Or what if-

I tried to run through my options, the first obvious one being to try the door handle, which was miraculously unlocked. Who the hell leaves their door unlocked in a cheap hotel like this?

“Y/N?” I called out as I stepped into the room. The bathroom door was wide open to the left of the main door I just entered, and I peered around the corner. 

She stood before the sink, eyes locked on her hands which appeared to be scrubbed nearly raw. I walked inside, concern building by the moment. “What are you doing?” I asked. 

She didn’t hear me - or she ignored me if she did. She continued scrubbing her hands diligently. I leaned forward to get a better look. A few red streaks ran off her hand and down the sink, but I wasn’t so sure what she was washing off was the victim’s blood anymore. 

“Y/N, stop. You’re hurting yourself,” I scolded. Her motions continued. She seemed dazed and unaware of my presence. She was surely in some kind of shock. 

As I stood behind her, I felt as though the scrubbing intensified. I made a snap decision. Stepping forward, I placed my arms on either side of her body, caging her in around the sink as I firmly grabbed her forearms and separated her hands. 

She jumped violently, enough for me to release her arms from my grip and back away quickly. 

“My god, Dr. Reid. How long have you been here?” she asked as her voice shook. She looked exhausted and her hands were bright red. Red lines where she’d repeatedly used her nails to scrape at the skin caught my eye. I pulled my gaze away from her hands, making eye contact with her for the first time. “I came to check on you, after everything. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

She looked down at her hands, the realization of what she had done became apparent as she flexed her fingers and winced. 

“Looks like I came at the right time,” I said quietly, more to myself than to her. 

She shook her head incredulously before she began apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Reid. I have no idea why I was doing that. You shouldn’t have had to-” 

I shrugged. “It happens.”

Silence filled the room as I noticed she was still in her blood-soaked clothes. Thoughts whirled through my mind, but I couldn’t form a coherent thought. Words were pouring out of my mouth without my approval. 

 “Here’s what I purpose,” I said before I could stop myself. “Take a shower, get changed, and meet me in my room for a few minutes. I just want to talk to you about a some things.”

 She stared at the floor. I almost thought she was going to say no. 

“Okay,” she whispered. 

I nodded, heading for the bathroom door. “Room 91A. And please, call me Spencer,” I stated. Not waiting for her response, I shut the bathroom door behind me and locked her hotel door on my way out.

-READER POV-

You felt like you were in trouble. 

You know when you’re merely a child and you get in trouble in the middle of class? You know the feeling of your stomach sinking as you walk to the principal’s office?

That was the only way you could describe walking to Dr. Reid’s - Spencer’s - room. 

After a shower that stung your hands and brought tears to your eyes, you slipped into some comfy clothes and wrapped gauze around the rawest parts of your palms, before heading to his room. 

Room 91A. You tapped your knuckles on the door twice. You heard shuffling from inside the room. Spencer stood before you, also showered, also in his pajamas. 

This caught you by surprise. He could tell by the way your eyebrows shot up at his appearance. “I figured we might as well be comfortable with one another,” he said before stepping out of the way. “Come in.”

You brushed past him as you walked inside. Though it was just a hotel room, something about the stack of books on the side table and paperwork scattered on the desk brought a small smile to your face. 

One book in particular laid face up on the edge of the bed. “Dostoyevsky?” you asked. 

Spencer raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by your question. “Yes. Have you read his work?” 

You nodded, glancing up at him as you ran your hand over the cover of the book, tracing the engraving on the cover of the antique copy. “Everybody knows Crime and Punishment, but I prefer White Nights.” 

You’d caught him off guard. “I didn’t know you were interested in Russian literature,” he said, walking to the other side of the room and taking a seat in one of the two armchairs positioned in the corner, “or any literature, for that matter.” 

You shrugged. “We’ve only known each other for two weeks. I’m not sure why you’d have any idea.” 

His stare faltered, and you caught him averting his eyes to the floor as he leaned back in the chair. “I should have asked. I haven’t been very kind to you. I haven’t done a very good job of making you feel welcome here,” he started cautiously. 

That caught your attention. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, but your first response was to reassure him. “It’s no problem, Spencer. It’s been so busy that I haven’t had time to get to know anyone very well.” You perched yourself on the edge of the bed, watching him carefully. 

“That isn’t true,” he said matter of factly. 

“Excuse me?” you asked, genuinely confused as to if you heard him right. 

Spencer cleared his throat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the tops of his thighs. His hands folded and he used them as a rest for his chin. You could see the gears turning in his head. 

“I said that it isn’t true. You have gotten to know everyone quite well, from what I gather,” Spencer said. 

Before you could respond, he started in again. “I’ve seen pictures of you with Luke and Penelope at the club after the last case. I know you went to lunch with Will and JJ. She says you’re fantastic with Henry and Michael. Tara told me you helped Rossi finish the thousand piece puzzle he’s had splayed out on his office table for two months. All this while Emily claims you’re a ray of sunshine.” 

Your mouth had fallen open a bit in the midst of his confession. You tried to think of an appropriate response. “Well, yes. That’s all true. But I don’t expect you to go out of your way to get to know me. I’m a people person.” You pointed to the books on his side table. “You, on the other hand, seem to prefer quiet time alone. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

The room was silent for a moment. The sound of Spencer’s foot tapping quietly against the floor kept the time. One, two, three… 

“I didn’t used to be this way,” he said frankly. 

You glanced at him, trying to read his expression. His face was stoic. He didn’t look particularly upset, though he surely wasn’t happy either. He ran a lone hand through his hair and brushed a few solitary curls from his eyes. 

“I know,” you responded. 

He furrowed his brow at you, confusion written all over his face. You rose from the bed and approached him before plopping down in the armchair next to his. 

“You know how, for us normal people, we spend a few years in training before we actually get a real assignment?” you asked. 

He nodded. 

“I’ve been with the Bureau in that capacity going on four years,” you started, eyes locked on the wall across from you. “My third year, there were rumors about an FBI agent spending time in prison for some high-level crime. People theorized it was connected to drug running, treason, even murder.”

Spencer cringed. 

“For the longest time, I thought it was a rumor. I forgot about it and I got an internship in Internal Affairs,” you continued. “One day, my boss handed me this huge file, full of reports going back over a decade.”

He was curious now, staring at you intensely as you did your best not to melt under his gaze. 

“If you haven’t figured it out yet, that was your file. One section was full of every report you’d ever written. The other section was what the Department of Justice had collected in an attempt to convict you in the fall.” 

This was new information to Spencer, who felt himself let out a bitter laugh. You paused to look at him. 

“I’m not sure why I’m surprised by that,” he said sourly. “I knew then they would want to be as far away from the case as possible. No wonder it was easier for them to try to keep me in there.” 

You shrugged, continuing. “I guess Emily had called in a favor with Internal Affairs. I was tasked with finding proof of innocence.” 

“And?” Spencer asked. 

“I couldn’t find any,” you stated simply. He nodded. “But I never forgot the file, especially the pictures inside. I never forget a face. Reading through your life with the Bureau, seeing the sequence of ID images each year as you got older, maybe even colder. That stuck with me for some reason.”

He appeared intrigued and was clearly doing his best not to interrupt. 

“When I woke up one morning and saw this huge CBS headline about the DOJ dropping the charges against a wrongly accused agent, I felt a strange kind of vindication,” you admitted. “Nine months later I got a call from Emily, asking me to come in for an interview. Two months later, now we’re here.”  

“Now we’re here,” he repeated. 

You cleared your throat. “What I didn’t bank on when I joined the BAU, was the same face from that file would be across from me at the table every day.”

You turned to him to find he was already looking at you, and you offered him a small smile. “All this to say,” you whispered, “I think you have every reason not to be friendly with the new hire.” 

The room was silent once more, the two of you sneaking glances at each other. Spencer was the first to break the silence. 

“Emily sent me to check on you because she thought it would be good for both of us,” he confessed. “She said you should see me as an example that people can get through bad things, and that I needed to get out of my head and into the real world.” 

You were quiet for a moment before shifting in the chair. You thought of everything you’d seen over the last twelve hours.

“I never forget a face,” you whispered again, thinking back to the victim on the floor. Her glassy eyes staring up at your own. 

Spencer nodded. “Me either.” 

“So how do you do it?” you asked him. 

He turned to you. You swore you could see tears forming in his eyes. 

“I find that there's always that little moment right when you wake up in the morning, when everything's good, because your mind has temporarily forgotten the bad stuff.”

You smiled as he continued. “At night, when I can’t sleep, I make a list in my head of all the good things I've seen someone do. Every little thing I can remember. It's like a game.”

You tried to think about every good thing you’d ever seen someone do and tears welled in your eyes. “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” you said. 

“It works sometimes,” Spencer smiled. He moved forward, placing a hand on your knee. You looked up at him. The two of you stared at each other. 

“You have to know that you’ll never fully forget these things, but we get through it as a team,” he finished. 

The tears welled up in your eyes spilled over, and you noticed that a few of his own had to. The hand on your knee moved up, wiping the fallen tears from your cheeks.

After a moment of letting the tears dry, you rose from the chair. “I really appreciate this, Spencer. I’m sorry that you had to go out of your way to help me, but I am very grateful.” 

He stood, towering over you. “It’s not a problem. I enjoyed talking to you.” 

“I enjoyed talking to you too,” you said with a smile. You stood next to him for a moment, enjoying the feeling of his close proximity before you snapped out of it. “Well, I should probably go back to my room and let you get back to your work.”

You turned from him and walked towards the door, pausing only when you heard his voice call after you. 

“Y/N,” he said, taking a few steps in your direction to where you’d crossed the room. 

“Yeah, Spencer?” you said, turning to face him. 

He faltered, his eyes finding the floor again. “I just,” Spencer stuttered for a moment, trying to regain his cool. “I was wondering if you wanted to stay. Stay and talk, of course. I-” he paused a moment more. Spencer took a deep breath. “I think Emily was right. I do enjoy your company and I’d like you to stay for a while,” he said firmly. 

You couldn’t hide the surprise on your face. Spencer saw it, too, quickly rushing to give you an out. 

“You don’t have to, of course,” he rushed. His cheeks burned red. 

“No, I don’t have to,” you said. “But I’d like to.” 

You saw his shoulders relax as the tension left his body. 

“Great,” Spencer nodded. He sounded relieved. 

You walked over to the armchair, plopping back down next to him. “Right, so,” you started, “What’s your topic of choice, Spence?” 

The use of his nickname brought the blush back to his cheeks as he scurried back into the chair next to you. 

He glanced at the books on the side table, the topic of conversation coming to him quickly. “Tell me,” Spencer started, “What resonates with you about the White Lady?”

You smiled before diving into a summary that not only analyzed the text but connected it to your own life. You thought your heart skipped a beat when you caught a glimpse of Spencer smiling warmly at you as you rambled. 

It was a long, interesting, conversation-filled night. 

[thedirtygridd]

WE’RE BACK!

Celebrating with Lando’s victory in Singapore from the pov of his masseuse 👀

If you enjoy, please comment!

The Singapore Grand Prix had just come to a spectacular close, with Lando Norris crossing the finish line as the victor. His face was flushed with exhaustion, and every inch of him glistened under the harsh floodlights. The humid night air had wrapped itself around him for the duration of the race, pulling beads of sweat from his skin. As his masseuse, I was always tasked with easing the tension after a long race, but tonight felt different. He had pushed his body to the limit, and it showed in the way his racing suit clung to him, soaked through with perspiration. The heat had claimed 5 kilograms of his weight, and the evidence was there in every damp contour of his form.

Lando's thick neck was the first thing I noticed as he peeled off his helmet and balaclava. It was slick with sweat, the veins pulsing beneath his skin from the exertion. The sheen on his neck caught the light, and I knew the massage tonight would be a challenge. His muscles, tight and swollen from the intense drive, would require every ounce of my strength. But as much as I wanted to focus solely on my job, there was no ignoring how the droplets of sweat traced their way down his neck, gliding over his collarbone and disappearing into the fabric of his fireproof suit. It took everything in me to remain composed, to remind myself that I was a professional.

When he finally unzipped his suit, revealing his chest, the room seemed to grow warmer. His undershirt was soaked through, clinging to every contour of his torso. Each breath he took made his chest rise and fall, and I could see the fabric stretching tight against his skin. The sweat beaded along his pecs, trailing down to the toned muscles of his abdomen. I couldn't help but think about how much heat he must have endured in that car, how his body had fought against the conditions to claim victory. But the sight of his slick, sweaty skin was more than enough to make my hands twitch with anticipation. I was supposed to be tending to him, but the idea of him lingered in my mind.

His armpits were drenched, and the moment he lifted his arms to remove the suit, the scent of sweat filled the air. It wasn't unpleasant, just the unmistakable smell of hard work, of a man who had pushed himself to the very edge. The dark patches under his arms were a testament to the race, and I could see the sweat running down the inside of his biceps. They were thick and powerful, glistening under the dim lights of the room. I knew I had to focus on my task, but the sight of those muscles, so wet and tense, made it hard to concentrate. My hands were already preparing for the moment they would touch his skin, but I had to stay professional.

It was impossible not to notice his biceps, firm and swollen from the strain of gripping the steering wheel for nearly two hours. They flexed with every movement, the skin damp and flushed. The thought of running my hands along those muscles made my pulse quicken, but I reminded myself that I was here to work. As his masseuse, I had a duty to ease his pain, to help him recover. But the sweat, the way it pooled at the crook of his elbow and ran down his arms, was distracting. I could only imagine how much more soaked he would become as the massage began.

When I finally placed my hands on his shoulders, the heat of his body hit me like a wave. His skin was damp and slick beneath my fingers, and within seconds, my hands were wet with his sweat. It was unavoidable—the sheer amount of moisture pouring from his body seemed endless. His muscles were tight, the result of both the race and the hours spent in the car, but my hands worked through the tension. Every time I pressed into his skin, I could feel the sweat transferring to me, soaking my palms. It was an odd sensation, one that left me both focused on my job and oddly tempted.

The sweat running down his back was even more intense. As I kneaded his broad, muscular shoulders, it became clear just how much his body had been through. His back was slick with moisture, and I could feel the sweat collecting in the folds of his skin as I worked my way down. It was impossible to ignore how my fingers slid over the smooth, wet surface of his muscles. The thought of how drenched he must have been in the car crossed my mind again, and I could only imagine how uncomfortable it must have been. Still, there was something undeniably tempting about the way his body felt beneath my hands.

His legs were no different. As he lay face down, the sweat had already soaked through his racing suit, and when I finally peeled it off, his thighs were just as drenched. The fabric clung to his skin, and it took some effort to get it off. His quads were powerful, built for endurance and speed, and as I worked the tension from them, I could feel the heat radiating off his body. Every time I pressed into the muscle, the sweat would well up beneath my fingers, soaking them anew. My hands were slick, and it became harder to maintain a grip, but I had to stay focused.

By the time I reached his feet, I couldn't help but wonder what state they must be in. After hours of racing, confined in tight boots, they had to be drenched. The thought was strangely captivating, even though I knew it was unprofessional to think that way. But I couldn't shake the image from my mind—his feet, sweaty and sore, waiting for relief. I tried to push the thought aside as I massaged his calves, but it lingered in the back of my mind. The sweat, the exhaustion, the heat—it was all so overwhelming, both for him and for me.

My hands were soaked now, every inch of them covered in his sweat. Each time I applied pressure to his muscles, more of it would transfer onto my skin, until it felt like I was massaging waterlogged fabric instead of flesh. But the more I worked, the more I could feel the tension melting away from his body. His breathing had slowed, his muscles were starting to relax, and I could tell he was finally finding some relief. Still, the thought of all that sweat, the way it clung to him, made it hard to stay purely professional. But I had to—I had no choice.

His chest was heaving now, but the tension was gone. My hands moved across his body with practiced ease, but the slickness of his skin made every touch feel different, more intimate somehow. I was hyper-aware of every bead of sweat, of every muscle beneath my fingertips. My hands were wet, but I kept working, determined to finish the job. As his masseuse, I had to stay focused, to push through the distraction. But the idea of him, so close, so drenched in sweat, was difficult to ignore.

As I massaged his arms again, I could feel the sweat pooling in the crook of his elbow, running down the length of his forearm. It was a constant reminder of the effort he had put into the race, of the toll it had taken on his body. The slickness of his skin was almost overwhelming, but I forced myself to concentrate on the task at hand. I had to be professional, no matter how tempting it was to think otherwise. His body was exhausted, and my job was to help him recover, not to indulge in any thoughts beyond that.

His breathing was deep and even now, the race’s intensity finally fading. I worked my way back to his neck, where the sweat still lingered, and I could feel his pulse beneath my fingers. His thick, sweaty neck was tense but starting to soften under my touch. Every press of my fingers against his slick skin was a reminder of how much effort he had poured into his win tonight. And while I wanted to focus purely on his recovery, the sight and feel of him—so strong, so drenched—made it harder than ever to keep things purely professional.

Finally, I finished the massage, wiping the last remnants of sweat from his body. My hands were soaked, but it didn’t matter. He had won, he had pushed himself to the limit, and now his body could finally relax. As I gathered my things and prepared to leave, I couldn’t help but glance back at him one last time. His chest was still glistening, his thick neck still damp, and the thought of his feet—sweaty, tired, sore—stayed with me. I reminded myself, once again, that I was his masseuse, and nothing more. But the temptation of Lando Norris, drenched in sweat, would remain in my thoughts for days to come.

[brittle-doughie]

I like to think that Y/N Cookie would stumble across the Cookie Laboratory by accident, and get lost in there for hours, so when Wind Archer enters the place and finds them it's like:

Wind Archer: ...who are you supposed to be(and why are you beautiful)?

You: “I’ve been looking for the truth behind this place for hours, could you just point me to the exit instead?”

Wind Archer Cookie: “….”

You: “Uh..helloooo? Anyone home?”

Wind Archer Cookie: “No! It’s too dangerous to turn back now! Stay with me and I can protect you.”

You: “What? But the path is clear-“

Wind Archer Cookie: “Reinforcements will be scouring the place soon, it wouldn’t be safe to go back.”

You: “Then let me go now-Ok, we’re going this way then!”

[janeyseymour]

Without a Shadow of a Doubt

This has been sitting in my WIPs for literal months- and here it is. I hope you enjoy her.

Summary: Melissa helps you raise a child, and on more than one occasion, you have serious doubts that you're a good mother.

WC: ~5.1k

When you moved into your new apartment complex with your three month old baby girl, perhaps the last thing you expected was to meet someone who would fill a hole in your heart that your ex-husband left when he up and abandoned you and the new baby that he claimed would be the love of his life. 

Of course, that statement came with a caveat; he wanted a son. So when the doctor gleefully announced that you had given birth to a daughter, he fumed and stormed his way out of the hospital. And when you came home the next day, once your mother picked you up and took you back to your quaint little apartment in, anything that belonged to you was in a box. He told you to get out, and the divorce papers would come through a few weeks later.

Your mother had been gracious enough to let you and your little girl stay with her for some time, but you need your freedom and space. So, not only did you have an ongoing divorce- you also had a three month old baby that depended on you for everything, and on top of that, you were dealing with moving into a new apartment. So, maybe the last thing you expected was to meet someone who would fill a hole in your heart, but the absolute last thing that you expected was to fall in love with a woman. But it would end up happening. 

Your mother has been a huge help in this whole ordeal- helping to bring the various boxes into the new little one bedroom apartment that now had your name on the lease, holding and rocking your little girl while you did as much as you could, fed you and the baby when you were too exhausted and would fall asleep sitting in the rocking chair that she had helped assemble, and above all else, she has been your rock. She’s been the one person who shows you unwavering love and support in terms of your impending divorce. Almost everyone else in your life attempted to show sympathy, but it oftentimes came off as judgmental or downright pity.

But now, your mother is sitting in the Philadelphia airport waiting for her flight back to Indiana to take off, and you’re in the new apartment all alone. All alone, aside from the baby. She’s strapped to your chest as you attempt to make dinner for yourself, but something in her little body is not having any parts of this. She wails- ear-piercing shrieks that make you want to burst into tears too. You quickly get her out of the sling and attempt to hold her and soothe her all while continuing to stir the pot of soup you have on the burner. This was so much easier when you had both hands free.

But your little love just continues to cry, her face bright red, and the tears are running down her pudgy little cheeks as she clenches her little fists and beats your chest repeatedly.

Giving up, you turn off the stove and turn your attention fully to the baby.

“Sweet Ellie girl,” you sigh. You stroke her cheek gently with the tip of your finger. “What is it?” You know she isn’t hungry- she ate half an hour ago. She burped afterward. Her diaper is dry. What on Earth could this sweet little thing want? You suppose that she just wants to be held and loved. You can do that- you can do that far better than your soon-to-be ex-husband could ever. With a little exhale, you open the pantry and grab yourself a granola bar to eat before settling into the rocking recliner that you have in the living room thanks to your father. You eat around Ellie as you mindlessly hum a few lullabies before switching into a few of the softer songs you know. You were somewhat hoping that she would be lulled to sleep with your soothing voice and sweet melodies, but your efforts are fruitless. That sweet little love of yours continues to stare up at you with wide eyes as she clutches your pinky in her own hand.

You sit there for what feels like forever, humming songs ranging from Adele to Bob Dylan to Join Mitchell and everything in between. That is, until you hear a knock on your door.

That in itself is odd. You don’t know anybody here, at least not yet. And it couldn’t be your mother. You know she had boarded her plane an hour ago and is in the air- she had texted you that much. She then followed that text up with a reminder to take care of yourself and that she was always just a phone call away if you needed her for anything. Your heart almost flies into your throat at the thought of it being Michael, your ex. Why would he show up here after serving you with divorce papers and telling you that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with the ‘little worm’ you brought into the world?

“Let’s go see who’s at the door,” you whisper to the little one in your arms. You continue to mindlessly hum a tune, one that you’ve always adored- ‘Here Comes the Sun’ by the Beatles- as you make your way over to the door. Looking through the peephole, you see a redhead with a box in her arms. Her green eyes nearly stare into your soul as she tries to decipher if you’re going to answer or not.

Out of curiosity, you open the door. “Hello, can I help you?”

The woman, whose green eyes have already been imprinted into your memory, just gives you half a shrug as she looks down at the baby in your arms.

“Uh, I didn’t think I left any boxes in the moving truck?” you question with a nervous chuckle.

The woman almost snorts out a laugh before she remembers why she’s here. “No. I uh, I’m your next door neighbor. I saw that you had a baby, and I work at a school, and I-“ she hums absentmindedly. “Some of my coworkers were getting rid of their baby items, so I came to offer them to you- if you want them.”

“Oh!” your eyebrows creep up your forehead. “That’s- that’s really kind of you.”

“Do you want the stuff or not?” the redhead asks.

“Please,” you smile softly. “Thank you.”

“Where you want it?” she asks a she looks around your place.

“If you just want to put it on the kitchen table, I can handle it once I get Ellie in her crib for the night.”

The woman, whose name you still don’t know, enters your apartment, sets the box down, and looks around.

“Did you not eat?”

You look up at her, lifting your gaze from your baby. “I did.” Your eyes dart to the wrapper from your granola bar, and you’re just a bit embarrassed that you hadn’t thrown it out. But how were you to know that she would drop by?

“All you had was a granola bar?” she asks as her own eyes follow your gaze. You nod sheepishly. Her eyes go to the pot on the stove, and before you can stop her, she looks inside. It’s just chicken stock, onion, and celery- that was as far as you got with making dinner before Ellie started wailing and effectively put your meal on hold. “Sit down,” are the next words out of her mouth. “Hold your little girl, and I’m making you dinner.”

“What?” your mouth opens and closes a few times. “I- You don’t have to do that. I don’t know you, you don’t know me.”

“Melissa,” is all the woman says as she opens up your refrigerator and grabs the chicken breast that you were meant to put into the soup. “Now sit and relax.”

Her tone leaves no room for argument, so you settle in a chair.

“Th-thank you,” you say quietly after a few moments of awkward silence.

She waves a hand in dismissal. “So, what’s your story?”

You mull over in your head just how much of your past you should reveal to this woman, a stranger- but also your next door neighbor who is cooking you dinner. You end up detailing that your husband left you days after you had your little girl, just dipping slightly into the fact that he left you due to the fact that you had a daughter and not a son. “Her name is Elizabeth, but I’ve kind of landed on the nickname ‘Ellie’,” you tell her softly.

“And your name?” she prompts.

You give her your name as she stirs the dinner she’s making. And it smells heavenly.

“Well, Y/N,” Melissa says your name in such a way that you’ve never loved your name more. “For what it’s worth, I think you’ll be better off without him. He sounds like a jackass.” And then she sets the bowl down in front of you and holds her arms out expectantly.

“Oh,” you whisper. “I uh, I can hold her while I eat. You don’t have to. You’ve already done enough.”

“Just let me hold her.” Green eyes are rolled before practically daring you to protest. “You’ve been holding her for the last hour, at least. Your arms have to be tired.”

You bite your lip before hesitantly handing your sweet pride and joy over to the woman who stormed her way into your life not an hour ago, expecting Ellie to fuss- the only people she let hold her were you and her mother. She’s not even particularly fond of your father holding her, much to his disappointment. And somehow, Melissa knows just how to keep your little girl calm and quiet while you eat one of the most delicious bowls of soup you’ve ever had. She even has your little girl giggling before managing to get Ellie to fall asleep. You see the way that she’s a natural with your daughter, watching over both her and you with soft eyes that you weren’t quite expecting.

And since that day, Melissa has been a near constant in your apartment. Whether it’s to make a meal, to hold Ellie while you simply rest and reset, or to keep you company, she’s almost always there. Her presence is always warm and inviting, which is something that you’ve come to learn isn’t necessarily the norm for the woman that lives next to you.

You’ve discovered that she usually likes to keep to herself and her personal life is under wraps to almost everybody she knows. You’ve also discovered that you are the exception. Melissa Schemmenti, a woman who is usually very reserved and has described herself as ‘an aloof bitch at times’, is beyond soft for you. She’s even softer when it comes to your little girl, who you swear is growing up before your eyes.

About three months pass of you living in this new apartment with your next door neighbor almost always keeping you company before you finally give into the fact that you have a small thing for your neighbor. It takes another month before you ask her what her game is.

“What do you mean?” Melissa rolls her eyes at your question.

You hum softly as the two of you prepare a meal while Ellie is down for her nap. “You’ve told me yourself that you’re tough, aloof- and yet you’re always so gentle and kind to my daughter and me.”

She laughs, like fully laughs. “I thought my intentions were pretty clear.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I started by helping out a neighbor, but I may or may not have fallen for her and her sweet little girl.” Green eyes search your face for your reaction. The only reaction she gets is you taking a step towards her before pulling her in by the waist and planting a soft kiss to her lips.

Her eyes are blown wide when you pull away, and for a split second you think you made a mistake. But then she’s opening her mouth again. “Wow.”

“I- I may have fallen for you too,” you admit, cheeks flushed. “But I never thought you would want to-”

“I thought you were straight,” Melissa bites her bottom lip. At the shake of your head, she breathes a quiet, “Oh thank God,” before pulling you back in for a second kiss. 

That is the beginning of your relationship with Melissa Schemmenti, next door neighbor. From the start, it’s been a serious relationship. You made it quite clear that you did not have the time for any flings, and she just rolled her eyes before heading towards the little nursery that you had set up for your daughter. Sometimes she jokes that she’s really only here for Ellie and not you.

She’s always been great with your sweet girl- and as you would come to find out, she will always be great with Ellie. So great actually… that sometimes feel that she’s a better mother to your daughter than you are. 

The first time it happens is when Ellie is turning one year old. You’ve been so wrapped up in your job and making sure that your little girl is as happy as she can be at any given moment, that you entirely forget about planning a first birthday party for her.

“Shit!” you groan as you’re finishing up a project that you brought home for the weekend. “Fucking dammit!”

Your girlfriend stops her cooking and turns to you with a raised eyebrow. “Care to share with the class why you’re yelling out curse words while our girl is asleep?”

You pause your tirade when you hear her refer to Ellie as both of yours- it’s something she’s started doing recently, and it makes your heart flutter for a second. A dopey grin washes over your face for a moment before you frown again.

“I’ve been so busy trying to work on this website that I forgot to plan Ellie girl’s birthday party,” you admit quietly, planting your head in your hands. “I can’t believe I forgot. I’m a terrible mother.”

“You are not a terrible mother, and you didn’t forget,” Melissa tells you as she turns back around to tend to the pan on the stove.

“What are you talking about? I absolutely did.”

“You’ve been mumbling about planning it in your sleep, but when I never got an invitation, I planned it all for the two of you,” the redhead reveals.

“Wha- how?”

“If you checked your personal email once in a while, you would know this,” Melissa teases you. “It was pulled up on your laptop when you fell asleep in bed a few weeks ago, so I just sent out some e-vites.”

A few clicks of your laptop later, and you see that what she’s saying is true- there are quite a few responses to a birthday party being held at the apartment this weekend.

“I’ve been quietly cleaning while you’ve been working yourself to the point of exhaustion too, so the place will be ready,” the teacher chuckles. “I figure we use your place for the actual gathering, and we can put coats and presents and things like that at mine.”

You stand and make your way over to your girlfriend, spinning her around to face you. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“I ask myself that about you every night,” Melissa hums as she leans in to give you a quick peck.

“Thank you,” you whisper as you close your eyes and press your forehead against hers. “I’m glad that Ellie at least has one mother that didn’t forget to plan her first birthday party.”

Your girlfriend rolls her eyes, not that you see it. “I already told you, you didn’t forget- you just needed a bit of a push to send out the invites.”

“You planned the whole thing,” you point out.

Melissa kisses you softly. “I’m just looking out for my girls the best I can.”

The birthday party is an absolute success. It’s filled with her coworkers who have come to love and adore your little girl almost as much as Melissa, your parents were able to fly out for the gathering, and a few of your coworkers from your new job are able to make it to help celebrate the milestone of your little girl.

After everyone heads out, you’re exhausted, Ellie is absolutely beat, and you’re sure Melissa has to be tired too. But still, she insists that you hand over your little girl for her to hold while you take a nap after all of the emotions that you’ve felt today.

“Babe, I can handle it,” you try to tell her. “I’m-” you stifle a yawn. 

“Go take a nap, hun,” the redhead says softly as she kisses your cheek. “Miss El and I are just going to do a bit of cleaning up before we come lay down with you.”

About an hour has gone by by the time your little girl and girlfriend are finished tidying up, and you’re dozing in and out of sleep. Feeling the bed dip slightly, you peel open your eyes and hold out your arms for your little girl to come into them. Ellie wiggles in the redhead’s arms and reaches for you, and as Melissa lays the two of them down, Ellie squeals with delight- she’s between two of her favorite people. She lets out the softest yawn before promptly falling asleep.

Melissa watches as your eyes soften, gaze on your little angel. “She’s perfect,” she muses softly.

“She really is,” you agree just as quietly. “And it has a lot to do with the fact that she has an amazing second mother who has really stepped up.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s because she has you for a mother,” the teacher argues.

You roll your eyes. “I’m hardly a great mother,” you sigh. “Honestly, there are some days I think you’re a better mother than I am.”

Melissa frowns, the lines in her forehead deepening. “Hun.”

You shrug. “I do my best with her, but you pulled all of this together for us. If it was up to me, there wouldn’t have been a first birthday party.”

“There would have been,” your girlfriend tells you. “And it would’ve been just as great.”

“I still should’ve-“

“You do everything you can for that little girl of ours,” the redhead says softly as she reaches over and brushes a few hairs away from your face. “Sometimes you need a little help, and I’ll always be here to help.”

As the years go on, there are times where you feel that you’re doing wonderfully as a mother, and there are other times that you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing and are beyond terrified that you’re ruining your child’s life. 

Every time, Melissa is there to reassure you that you are perfect for your little girl.  

The second time that you feel like Melissa is a better mother than you and you are feeling doubtful tenfold, at this point, you’ve been married for three years now. Ellie is five and entering kindergarten. The day where you send your little girl off comes quicker than you ever could’ve imagined, and yet here you are, walking hand in hand with your wife and your daughter into Abbott.

“You’re going to have such a great time with Auntie Barb,” you tell Ellie softly.

“It’s Mrs. Howard, Momma,” your daughter giggles. “At school, she’s Mrs. Howard.”

“How silly of me,” you playfully roll your eyes. “You’re going to have a great time with Mrs. Howard.”

And all is fine, and Ellie is excited, until it comes time to part with you and Melissa. Then it’s waterworks, and she can’t believe that you would even leave her for this long (despite the fact that she’s spent several nights with Barb and Gerald).

Despite every word of encouragement and praise that you give your little girl, she’s still absolutely hysterical. She clings to you, yes- but she’s mostly clinging to your wife. Ellie wants you, yes- but she really wants Melissa. The redhead looks down at the little girl she loves more than anything and sighs. She really should be down in her own classroom prepping for her little eagles, but Ellie comes first- she always has and always will.

“Baby,” Melissa breathes quietly as she kneels down in front of the girl in pigtails. “You’ve been so excited for school. What has you so nervous all of a sudden?”

“I want you,” Ellie mumbles into your wife’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna go to school; I just want to spend time with you.”

“Well,” the second grade teacher says softly. “Little girls have to go to school. But can you think of it this way? You get to make new friends, and I know Auntie Barb is so excited to have her little Ellie Belly in her class. During lunch, you can come say hi to Mom for the first few days, and we can call Momma if you want. And then when we get home, you get all the love.”

Your little girl looks at your wife suspiciously before furrowing her brow and sticking out her pinky. “You promise?”

You see the warmth wash over Melissa’s face as she sticks out her pinky. “I promise you, lovey. So, why don’t we let Momma head to work, and you and I can make our way down to Auntie Barb’s?”

Ellie worries her lip between her teeth before looking to you. “I guess.”

Green eyes meet your own as she pulls your little girl into her arms again. She whispers conspiratorially to your daughter, “I think Momma might need a hug before we head down, what do you think?”

Ellie flings herself at you with a bright, somewhat still teary, grin. “I love you Momma.”

“I love you too, sweet girl,” you tell her softly as you hold her close. You pepper her face in kisses before releasing her back.

Your daughter’s first day of kindergarten has you anxious as all hell. You hope she’s having an okay day, and you really do expect to receive a phone call at lunch from the two of them. You don’t.

You having a good first day? Is El? you text your wife.

It takes a minute, but you get a reply back. These kids are going to be the death of me, but El is having a grand ol’ time with Barb. She told me at lunch that she can’t wait to come back tomorrow.

You smile at that. You knew once Ellie actually made it into the room, she would be just fine. You only wish that your words of encouragement and affirmations would’ve made her feel more at ease. Instead, it was Melissa’s words. Thank you for helping get her to class today when I couldn’t. You’re the best Mom that little girl could ask for.

I’m pretty sure that’s you.

I couldn’t get her to let go of either of us, you reply. You just seem to have the magic touch with her.

Babe, you get a response. You have such a way with our daughter, but you also have to remember that I’ve been a teacher for years and have dealt with kids not wanting to go into school for forever- this is new to you just as it is for El.

That day when you get home from work, Melissa and your Ellie are already curled up on the couch relaxing. They’re both dead tired from their first days, and you can tell that it’s going to be an early night for everyone the way both of their eyelids are drooping as they try to stay awake for dinner. You drop your bag on the bench you keep by the front door before pressing gentle kisses to both of their heads and walking into the kitchen to start on dinner.

“Don’t,” your wife’s voice floats into the room as she carries a barely awake Ellie in. “I ordered your favorite on my way home, it’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

Your face falls just slightly- you were planning on making their favorite, in order for them to be able to relax and enjoy the first day of school being over. You just give her a soft smile instead, before you turn yourself back around to face the counter. And that’s when you see the beautiful bouquet of flowers sitting in a vase.

“Honey,” you sigh.

“Miss Ellie girl and I stopped on our way home to pick up flowers for Momma,” Melissa says softly. “Didn’t we?”

Your daughter nods in her arms before reaching for you. With a small grin on your face, and a few tears now beading in your eyes, you take your little girl. “Thank you,” you whisper as you delicately press a kiss to your wife’s cheek. You then dot a few sweet kisses to Ellie’s hairline.

Dinner is a quiet affair aside from Ellie sleepily telling you about her first day in kindergarten. The three of you settle on the couch to relax once dinner is cleaned up. It doesn’t take long for Ellie to fall asleep, sprawled out on both you and Melissa.

Melissa quietly details her first day- how the children were, how she was so happy to see Ellie giggling along with her classmates at lunch, and how Barbara just gushed about how your daughter was a big help in calming others’ nerves.

“She’s a good kid,” your wife finishes. “You’ve done great with her, babe.”

You look down at the little girl laying in your lap. “I didn’t do much.”

Green eyes stare at you incredulously. “Honey, I wish you could see how amazing you are. You’ve done wonderfully with her. She has your kindness and your compassion- she has your heart. And unfortunately for both of us, she picked up on my stubbornness. You’ve done so much for our little girl, and you are the perfect mother to her.”

You shrug. “I don’t know. I just… you know how I feel about this.”

“Tell me.”

“You already know,” you sigh as you rest your head against her shoulder. “And I think we need to start heading up to bed.”

“It can wait a few minutes,” your wife tells you. “So talk about it.”

With a breath, you tell her how you feel that you’re failing because you don’t know what you’re doing. You’re hurting Ellie because you’re so unsure of what you’re doing that your little girl is aware of your hesitations in the way you speak with her and act with her sometimes.

That weekend you head out to the grocery store, and for once Melissa and your daughter are not with you. No. Instead, they’re at home. Your wife has Ellie make you a card telling you that you are the world’s best mother and listing the things that she loves about you while Melissa writes it out. Then, the two of them get to turning the living room into a comfortable space to watch your favorite movies.

When you return home, your welcomed with a new bouquet of flowers (you later find out that Barbara dropped them off while you were out), the card, and what you can only describe as a blanket fort.

“What is this?” you ask softly as you carry in an armful of groceries.

“The best, for Momma,” Melissa says softly as she takes the bags out of your hands. She sets them down before pulling you into her arms. “Enjoy today.” She kisses you quickly before heading back out to the car and bringing in the rest of the groceries while Ellie pulls you into the massive pile of blankets on the floor.

“Momma, read the card,” your little girl tells you. You pull her into your lap and cuddle her close before reading the card. On one side is what Ellie had to say, while the other side is what your wife wanted to tell you. Their words and kindness bring tears to your eyes.

“Did we make you sad?” your daughter looks to you fearfully.

“No, baby. These are happy tears. Happy tears,” you promise her as you repeatedly kiss her head over and over.

Once your wife is finished putting away the groceries, she plops herself down next to the two of you and reaches for the remote. You put a gentle hand out to stop her, and when she looks at your curiously, you just kiss her gently.

“Thank you,” you sigh quietly as you press your foreheads together. The moment of silence most likely would’ve been longer if not for Ellie squealing about putting the movie on that she had picked out for you.

The rest of the day passes by in a blissful haze full of movies, warmth, and lots of snacks. The two of you put Ellie to bed before cleaning up the living room mess, and as you clean, you pick up the card again and read what Melissa had to say.

“I mean it, you know,” your wife says softly as she wraps her arms around your waist. “I am the luckiest person alive to get to have fallen in love with you, to help raise our beautiful little girl, and be the one who gets to love both of you through every high and low- every doubt and fear. But I promise you, we are the lucky ones to have you.”

You crane your neck to kiss her gently. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Melissa repeats back as she tucks a few stray hairs behind your ear. “Please know that I will always be here for you- my wonderful, lovely, perfect wife, as we work our way through motherhood together.”

From next to your wife, you groan as you let your head fall against her shoulder.

“What?”

“If I’m feeling like this now, how the hell am I going to feel when she’s a teenager?”

The redhead chuckles as she brings your left hand up to her lips and kisses just under the rings that sit beautifully on your finger. “I’ll be there for you, and Ellie. Always.”

And she is there for you. She always has been. She always is. She always will be.

tags and lmk if u wanna be on this list: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Strategic Heartbeats

Word count: 1.2k

Pairning: Toto Wolff x Race strategy!reader

Summary: During a lively team dinner, Y/n, a dedicated strategist at Mercedes, navigates playful banter with her colleagues while feeling the charged tension between her and Toto Wolff

______________________________________________________________

The last few weeks had been an exhausting blur of meetings, track data, and strategy sessions. As part of the Mercedes strategy team, your job was to analyze every race, but you’d spent more time thinking about the man in charge, Toto Wolff. His presence dominated the paddock—confident, composed, with that quiet intensity that made you feel small but seen, all at once. You’d noticed his attention lately—the way he lingered near you, his subtle touches that seemed to burn through you.

You weren’t supposed to let it affect you, but it did. You missed him during the race weekends when he was locked in meetings or dealing with drivers. It was the anticipation, the way his gaze would flicker toward you during briefings, leaving you breathless and wanting. You had been good at hiding it—until today.

You were alone in your hotel room, hours before the team dinner. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t do it. He had set the boundary clearly—don’t touch yourself without his permission. But after weeks of waiting, after so many nights lying in bed, aching for him, you gave in. Your hands had wandered, pressing into the heat between your thighs, imagining his touch instead of your own.

The guilt crept in soon after, but it was too late. You dressed carefully for the dinner, slipping into a  sleek black dress that hugged your curves just right, hoping to maintain a professional demeanor. But as you sat on the edge of your bed, the tension of the past few weeks clawed at you. You desperately wanted to touch yourself, to give in to the frustration building inside you, but the idea of thinking about Toto in that way felt like crossing a boundary you couldn't bear to cross.

When you arrived at the hotel restaurant, the most important people from the Mercedes F1 team were already gathered. Laughter and lighthearted banter filled the air, but your gaze immediately sought out Toto. He stood at the far end of the room, commanding the attention of his colleagues, a mix of authority and charisma in every gesture.

As you took your seat beside him, his familiar cologne enveloped you, and you tried to focus on the dinner conversation. The team joked about race strategies and playful rivalries, and you found yourself laughing along, desperate to shake off your earlier thoughts.

But as the evening progressed, Toto placed his hand on the back of your chair. His fingers rested lightly against the wood, and you felt a shiver of warmth shoot through you. Then, he began to caress your shoulder with his thumb, slow and absentminded. You fought to stay composed, reminding yourself not to read too much into his actions. He was just being friendly, right?

As dinner progressed, the atmosphere was lively, filled with laughter and playful banter among the team.

“Did you see how the other teams were scrambling in the pit today?” one of the engineers joked, leaning back in his chair. “It looked like a game of musical chairs out there!”

“Honestly, if we didn’t have Toto keeping us in line, I think half of us would forget which side the tires go on,” another strategist chimed in, grinning at Toto.

“Hey, I only make sure you all remember the basics!” Toto shot back, a playful glint in his eye. “Next time, I’ll start giving pop quizzes at the end of each race.”

The room erupted in laughter, and someone from the back added, “I’d pay to see that! ‘Question one: Which tire do we change first?’”

“Followed by a bonus question about the best strategist in the paddock,” another team member interjected, nudging you playfully. “That one’s obviously about Y/N here!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I think I still have a lot to learn before I can claim that title.”

Toto leaned closer, his thumb still caressing your shoulder as he joined in the fun. “Just remember, even if you don’t feel like the best, you’re definitely the most dedicated. You’ve got the team’s best interests at heart.”

“Aw, look at him, buttering you up!” an engineer teased, winking at you. “What’s your secret, Toto? Are you trying to recruit her for a new position?”

“Maybe I just appreciate good work ethic,” he replied, his voice warm but teasing. “Or maybe I’m just trying to keep her from taking my job!”

“Good luck with that!” someone called out, and the table erupted in laughter again, the camaraderie and easy banter filling the air as the evening continued. You joined in the laughter, grateful for the lighthearted moments amid the pressure of the season.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, leaning closer as the laughter around the table increased. “You seem a bit distracted tonight.”

“I’m fine,” you replied, forcing a smile. “Just thinking about the upcoming race.”

Toto raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “You know you can relax a little. We’re all here to unwind.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… a lot to process sometimes,” you admitted, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He nodded, his thumb still moving against your shoulder. “You’re doing great work. Don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

The conversation flowed around you, filled with teasing and camaraderie, but your focus kept drifting back to Toto’s touch. Each small movement made it harder to concentrate, harder to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. You couldn’t help but wonder if he sensed the growing tension between you, if he knew the thoughts swirling in your head.

After dinner, as the group began to disperse, Toto turned to you with a warm smile. “Mind if I walk you to your room?”

“Not at all,” you replied, trying to hide the flutter of excitement in your chest.

As you made your way to the elevator, the two of you fell into an easy conversation. “You handled the meeting today really well,” he complimented, and you felt a rush of pride.

“Thanks! I just tried to keep everyone focused,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

The elevator doors slid shut, and for a brief moment, it was just the two of you in the small space. The air felt charged, and you could almost hear the tension crackle between you. Toto shifted closer, his hand now resting lightly on your lower back, and you fought to keep your breathing steady.

“Do you ever think about what it would be like if we… I don’t know, crossed that line?” he asked, his voice low and contemplative.

Your heart raced, caught off guard by his question. “What do you mean?”

He stepped closer, his expression serious yet curious. “I mean, sometimes I wonder if we could be more than just colleagues. There’s something… undeniable between us.”

You swallowed hard, the reality of his words sinking in. “Toto, I don’t want to complicate things. We have a good dynamic as it is.”

He nodded, understanding, but you could see the conflict in his eyes. “I get it. But it’s hard to ignore what’s right in front of us.”

As the elevator stopped and the doors slid open, Toto hesitated. “Let’s just talk more, okay? I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

You stepped out, feeling the weight of the moment linger in the air. “I’d like that,” you said softly, your heart pounding.

But as you turned to walk down the hallway, you felt his hand slip into yours, gently pulling you back. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver through you. “Just remember, whatever happens, I’m here.”

[thecommunityfridge]

The Eye Roll

TW: Ageplay, diapers, humiliation, bedwetting, spanking, manipulation

This story was inspired by and costars (with her permission) the wonderful @dearchloe. Go check out her amazing work!

"No, Mister, no way! You have wet the bed five of the last six nights. I am done playing around. Five nights of wet pull-ups in a week means you sleep in the nursery until you can prove you deserve otherwise. No exceptions!" Miss Chloe lectured me as she fought to get me diapered and dressed for bed.

Miss Chloe, the domineering British woman who had shown up at my door one day, declared she was my Nanny, and somehow took over my life like an AB/DL Mary Poppins, wasn't wrong. I had wet the bed five of the last six nights, and I had invoked her prescribed consequence of having to move into my guest room turned nursery until I could prove I could keep my pants dry overnight.

Of course, it didn't matter to Miss Chloe that my accidents had all been her fault.

She had made me drink all that water right before bed every night, because 'I was too dehydrated.' She carefully monitored whether I got out of bed at night, spanking me for getting up before I had 'slept' a full ten hours, because 'I needed to get a good night's rest.'

How was I supposed to keep my pull-up dry when I was spanked every time I made a very necessary midnight run to the plastic potty she kept in her room, the only toilet I was allowed to use?

There was no use in explaining the unfairness of it all to Miss Chloe though. Each time I talked back, I was met with some explanation with infallible logic about how she was right, and I needed to just accept the well-deserved consequences of my actions. It was infuriating.

So, this time, instead of trying to justify my predicament, or talking back as Miss Chloe termed it, I tried a new tactic. I rolled my eyes hard, like a bratty preteen, turned my back on my self-declared Nanny, and said, "Whatever," with as much cool disdain as I could muster.

That was a bad idea.

Miss Chloe immediately rounded on me, getting in front of me, and cutting off any means of escape.

"Oh my! I didn't know my little poppet's eyes were so tired! That was quite the eye roll, Little One!"

I looked at my caretaker confused. Miss Chloe was usually much more in tune with why I did something than this. My eye roll wasn't because I was tired. It was a sign of disrespect and rebellion. It was a manifestation of my frustration with her domineering attitude.

I tried to tell Miss Chloe as much when she immediately cut me off.

"I mean, your eyes ~must~ be tired, because I know that a good little boy like you would never roll your eyes at me on purpose! If that was the case, why, I think you would definitely have to take a trip over Nanny's lap to be reacquainted with Mrs. Spoon!"

I physically swallowed my words. Miss Chloe had proven to be a savant with 'Mrs. Spoon,' and I was not ready to risk her wraith again.

"No! Of course not Miss Chloe, my eyes just must, um, be, very tired! It is bedtime after all!" I responded, backtracking faster than a cat walking in on a room of dogs playing poker.

"That's what I thought, you poor little thing. Let Miss Chloe help with that!"

My Nanny caressed my face as she spoke before placing a hand lightly on my back, leading me into the nursery I had been working so hard to avoid.

"I have just the thing to help those tired, little eyes of yours! Now stay right here!" Miss Chloe directed me, leaving me standing in the middle of the room. Standing there, I couldn't help but feel like the giant changing table, crib, and other furniture was silently standing guard over me as I listened to the warden of my infantile prison rummage through a dresser drawer behind me.

"Found it!" Miss Chloe exclaimed.

I felt her presence approaching behind me before, suddenly, the world went black. Something soft and totally opaque obstructed my vision. I raised my hands to pull the intruding object off my face only to hear as much as feel a loud smack as my hands were batted away.

"Nuh uh, my adorable little poppet. You leave that blindfold on! Those silly little eyes of yours need rest! Covering them and taking a much needed ni-night is the only fix for such worn out little peepers," Miss Chloe's said, her voice circling me as she spoke.

With the blindfold on, I felt so little and vulnerable. Despite this room being in my house for years, it's recent conversion to a nursery made it feel strange and foreign to me. Now, completely blind, I felt more like I was lost in some foreign country than in a room in my own home.

I strained my hearing, trying to catch any details to make me feel more comfortable in the nursery.

From my right, I could hear the soft hiss of the oil diffuser, emitting a soft, lavender scent. Behind me, a light ticking came from the small clock on the wall. From all around me, Miss Chloe's steps sounded soft and muffled by the clean, soft shag carpeting under her feet as she circled me.

"Alright, Little One! Let's get you ready for bed!" Miss Chloe's voice suddenly came from behind me.

Before I could turn, I felt the sharp tug of the shorts and pull-up I was wearing being yanked down from behind me. I felt my cheeks warm as cool air assaulted my exposed groin.

"Step!" Nanny ordered, lightly tapping my right leg.

I complied, lifting my right leg, listening to the crinkle of the pull-up as Miss Chloe removed my foot from my pullies' leg hole.

"Other foot!" Nanny's voice rang out from below me.

Just as before, I raised my leg as Nanny pulled my foot out of my shorts and pull-up. The sound of light rustling of my disposable undergarments my reward for compliance.

"Good job, poppet! You kept your pullies dry all day!" Miss Chloe said with a joy and sincerity in her voice that made her sound more like she was talking to a three-year-old than me, the 30-year-old standing half naked before her.

My blush deepened at her words.

"Thanks, Miss Chloe."

I wished I could see her facial expressions so I could at least guess at what she had in store for me next. Instead, I had to settle for the sharp sound of her hands clapping together.

"Alright, arms up! We're almost ready for jammies!"

With gentle hands, I felt my Nanny lift the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head, careful not to knock off the strip of cloth cutting off my vision. I heard Miss Chloe giggle once I was completely naked.

"There's my big boy! All nakey and ready for jammies!"

I felt Miss Chloe's hand wrap around mine and pull me forward. Hesitantly, but trusting that my self-appointed caregiver wouldn't let me hurt myself on accident, I let myself be led to the changing table that I knew from my memory was our destination.

"Hop on up!" Miss Chloe's voice intoned from beside me once we reached the table.

Delicately, I reached out and felt the soft padding and heard the loud crinkle of the plastic covered mattress set on top of the childish piece of furniture. Carefully, I lifted one leg into the table, only to be greeted by more soft crinkles. More confident, I lifted my second leg, getting my whole naked body carefully placed in the table.

I jumped a little as Miss Chloe's soft hands reached out for me, guiding me into the best position on the soft, cold plastic. With each movement of my body, I was reminded of my embarrassing situation by the crinkle of plastic.

Once I was safely on my back, without saying a word, Miss Chloe went to work.

I heard the soft rustle of fresh padding as she grabbed a diaper from under the changing table. The rustle only got louder as she folded and fluffed it.

I heard the sound of skin-on-skin before I felt it. The gentle slap to the side of my ass beckoned me to lift my naked tushy so Miss Chloe could slide the diaper underneath me. Resigned to my fate, I complied with the silent order, listening to the sound of the diaper sliding on the waterproof mattress on the changing table as the babyish garment was placed underneath me.

Still blind to the world, the next sound I heard was the almost imperceptibly noise of powder falling over my crotch. The sweet smell of talcum told me that Miss Chloe intended for me to stay in this padded monstrosity for at least my prescribed 10 hours of sleepy time tonight.

The diaper rustled again as my Nanny folded it up over my loins. The sound of the tapes being pulled and the light pressure of them being pressed flat signaled the end of my humiliating diapering was near.

"Perfect! A perfectly padded and properly protected little poppet!" Miss Chloe announced as I felt her gentle hands help me down from the changing table. "Now to get the sleepy boy into his jammies!"

I listened as Miss Chloe walked to the dresser pulled something out and returned to me.

As she did, I squeezed my legs together, marvelling at the thick feel of the diaper as well as how noisy it seemed in the otherwise quiet nursery. I didn't have long to examine my embarrassing new underwear before my Nanny returned with what was presumably pajamas.

In the reverse of being undressed, I stepped into what I could feel was a soft, fleece footie sleeper. I followed Miss Chloe's soft but firm instructions as she dressed me without question. Being blind to the world adding to my fear of the caring but dominate woman and made me more compliant.

The last noise as I was dressed was the tell-tale whir as the zipper was pulled up from behind me. The familiar noise signalling I was ready to be tucked into the horrible crib for the next ten hours.

"You're so adorable!" Miss Chloe preened as she guided me to the crib, my diaper whispering out my infantile state with each step.

Miss Chloe helped lift me into the tall piece of furniture. She helped me lay down, covering me with a soft blanket, before handing me what was I knew was a comically large baby bottle.

"Drink up!" my Nanny ordered as I heard her slide the side of the crib back in place, locking it with a sharp click.

I lifted the bottle to my lips and filled my ears with the gentle sucking sound that could only come from someone nursing the rubber teat of a bottle. A soft lullaby started playing from above me, signalling that Miss Chloe had turned on the mobile dangling over the bed.

A new click came from by the door, signalling that Miss Chloe had turned out the lights (a pointless gesture given I was already blindfolded).

"Goodnight, my sweet boy! Rest those tired eyes!" my Nanny called out as she shut the door to the nursery, locking me in.

As I lay suckling my bottle, diapered, blindfolded, and locked away in a crib, I couldn't help but relax. Maybe, I thought to myself as I drifted off to sleep and as I had many times before, Miss Chloe was right, and being put to bed in the nursery wasn't so bad.

[puma-riki]

No One Noticed...

Synopsis: You've never seemed to make friends well. Sure, you had people you knew and were well acquainted with, but no one ever seemed to get closer to you or want to. You think that no one notices you and you'll continue the rest of your college years alone like all the years before. Except Ni-ki notices just about everything you do.

Pairing: Nishimura Riki x Fem! Reader

Genre: Fluff, Humor (or attempts at), sliIght angst, smau + written parts, idiots to lovers, university au, slow burn

Warnings: consistent cursing

Characters: Enhypen (all), Eunchae (lesserafim), Keeho, Soul, (P1Harmony)

Status: Ongoing (Start: 092124)

Taglist: @bee-the-loser @iaintseggsy @channieismylove | Comment on any chapter from No One Noticed... saying you want to be added to the taglist!! or send me an ask !! | bold could not be tagged :c

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04. HAPPY WEDNESDAY GUYS‼️‼️ + written

Campus Library 1:54pm

Ni-ki checked his phone for what had to be the 100th time since he took his spot leaning against the wall next to the library stairs. He hadn’t misread your texts, had he? Were you late? Or worse—were you already inside waiting while he was stuck out here, making him look like the kind of guy who didn’t care enough about his grades to show up for a tutoring session he asked for? That thought didn’t sit well, even if it wasn’t possible. Ni-ki had shown up 30 minutes early, too anxious to risk being late.

He opened his phone again, kicking at the small pebbles scattered across the pavement, He was about to send an SOS text to his friends' group chat when he heard a voice

"Are you out here waiting for me?" oh god it was you, he almost broke his neck, turning towards you.

You shifted the worn bag hanging on your shoulder, arms crossed against the breeze carrying the first hints of autumn. Ni-ki locked his phone and shoved his hands into the pockets of his green bomber jacket.

"Uh, yeah." He stood up from against the wall and shuffled his feet awkwardly, "I wasn't sure which study room we were using so, I just thought I'd wait for you to show up" His voice was quiet, and he felt it. This was the first real conversation you two had ever had—and the first time you’d ever looked directly at him.

"Oh, really?" You pouted slightly, your brow furrowing in confusion. Cute, he thought. "I thought I texted you the number. My bad." You walked past him, gesturing toward the stairs. "I’ll make sure I tell you next time, okay?" You smiled softly, tilting your head toward the stairs, signaling for him to follow.

You had only shown up ten seconds ago, and already, Ni-ki's heart was pounding.

He cleared his throat. "Kay," he mumbled, falling into step behind you as you made your way inside the library.

His nerves stayed with him as he climbed the stairs, especially knowing he would soon have to admit he was completely lost in biology—something you excelled at. He didn’t want you to think he was stupid.

After venturing into the library and ascending another flight of stairs, you pulled a keycard from the back pocket of your jeans and tapped it against the door to one of the study rooms.

“This room is reserved for the tutoring program specifically,” you explained, holding the door open for him with a smile. "So, we'll meet here for future sessions too."

Ni-ki felt like he was stepping into a padded cell. He was going to be alone with you in this room for 2 hours, how was he supposed to keep his cool and actually pay attention to the material instead of admiring you. He felt his hands start to sweat in his pockets as he took a seat at the long table sitting horizontally in front of the door after mumbling a shy thanks to you for holding the door for him. He sat his backpack down on the chair next to him as you did the same in the seat across from him.

"So," here came the embarrassment, "What exactly are you struggling with in bio." You gave him a quick glance as you dug in your bag for a notebook and pen.

Ni-ki wiped his hands on his jeans. “Well,” he started, feeling the familiar weight of self-disappointment in his chest, “pretty much everything, honestly.” His voice was quiet, the words almost painful to admit.

"That's okay! Biology is one of the harder classes, plus our professor is kind of a hard ass so it looks harder than it actually is." Your reassurance made his shoulders relax a little, and he let out a breathy laugh, your playful tone helping to ease his tension. You couldn't help but find him a bit cute.

“And it’s still early in the semester,” you continued, smoothing out your notebook page. “I’ll help you catch up.” Your encouraging smile sent a warmth through him. He nodded, wishing he could find his voice.

"Do you have any past quizzes and tests with you?"

“Yeah.” He quickly fumbled through his bag, nerves and the weight of your gaze making his hands clumsy as he pulled out a stack of papers littered with red marks. He felt a pang of embarrassment as he handed them over, watching you flip through his messy work. Red ink stained nearly every page, a reminder of how lost he’d been. He watched as you flipped through them, analyzing where he went wrong and where he had managed to get something right.

“Okay,” you said, setting the papers aside. “We’ll start from chapter one and work through it together. I’ll explain things differently from the professor and see if that helps.” You were already jotting down diagrams and definitions without needing to reference anything, working from memory.

"Okay, cool" he mumbled, trying to not make it obvious that he was taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

You smiled at his shyness, finding it endearing, "Okay so," You finished writing and turned your notebook towards him. As you began explaining biology’s chemical basis, Ni-ki found himself slowly relaxing, nodding along as the confusion in his mind started to unravel. Maybe tutoring wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

Until you asked him a question.

Ni-kis mind went completely blank when his eyes met yours for the first time in the past hour. He felt heat creep up his neck and to his ears, luckily his hair had been long enough to cover it. he defeatedly admitted that he had no clue how to answer. his eyes downcast at the notebook and your hands instead of your face.

"That's okay! That's why I'm here to help you, you'll get better at it." The warmth in your voice surprised him. He was used to strict teachers, but you were different—gentler. he had partially expected you to be as uptight as some of his professors who would've grown impatient with his hesitation and wouldn't have responded so kindly.

You asked a few more questions throughout the session, and though he got most of the first ones wrong, you explained patiently each time, your soft smiles easing his nerves. When he did manage to get a few answers right, you brightened, praising him and diving deeper into the material. He felt his heart soar and warmth spread through his chest when you did so. With each moment, he felt himself relax, though he stayed shy, mumbling his responses and avoiding eye contact. You didn’t seem to mind, even though it was kind of hard to hear him, but you kept it professional and didn't say anything, not wanting him to feel more embarrassed.

"Okay, its 4:03. We can stop here." You say checking your watch. "Do you have any questions about anything from this chapter?" Your eyes meet his for a split second before he's averting his gaze from you and to a random corner in the room.

Ni-ki shook his head, "Not that I can think of,"

"Alright, then. Don't hate me for what I'm about to do" You tease, taking the notebook you both worked in for 2 hours and scribbling something down on a clean page.

Ni-ki raised an eyebrow, chuckling softly. "What are you doing?" He tilted his head to try and get a glimpse of what you were writing. after a minute you slide the notebook back towards him.

"Before Friday, try answering these questions so we can see if things are making more sense." You say, clicking your pen closed and putting it back into your bag. "You can keep the notebook, by the way."

"You're giving me homework?" He jokes, a pout forming on his lips, as he picks up the notebook and scans the questions you wrote down, there were only 5.

"I said don’t hate me!" you laughed. “Text me if you have any questions, okay?" you laughed lightly as you stood up and slung your satchel-like bag over your shoulder. You watched him nod, beginning to put the notebook in his bag with the rest of his stuff.

"Okay, I will, Thank you [name]" he gave you a friendly smile as you began pushing in your chair and made your way to the door.

"Of course, see you Friday Ni-ki!" you gave him a small wave and opened the door.

"See you Friday" he echoed after you. The door clicked shut and then you were gone, leaving him to sit with the fluttering in his chest.

[eir-trixa]

WOTTG SPOILERS AFTER THE CUT

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Can you believe Rick is validating me in my Percy-is-the-most-empathic-character take? I have legal basis but boi does it feel nice to have canon confirmation.

Second that book was short af I got the gist of it all while reading for like an hour.

Third, we addressed everyone else’s trauma. Percy’s still the group therapist LMAO 😭😭😭

Fourth, my son is such a good kid yall, this is why I lose five years of my life when someone insults or when he insults himself jfc my child.

Im honestly still processing and I have to reread the ending. Did it address Percy’s issues? Im going to go with “a bit” and call it a night. I mean, I guess it did? Percy got to unload and help Gale and Hecuba. We got an insight to how he’s managing to stay up and fighting and good despite all the shit he’s put into. Honestly the fact that he saw the humanity in Gale and Hecuba, that he saw their pain and grief and thats what made them trust him, that is so good. And the way he related to them. Goodness. And it highlights again how good a person he is, how much he feels and cares. I mean, he cried cause he had to send Mrs O Leary away, I cant with this kid-

I supposed what Im left unsatisfied with is how he still perceives himself as dumb? Baby, you survived San Fran for two months as a homeless kid without memories and pursued by different monsters who cant die. Youre the furthest thing from dumb.

He cant see this of course and while it was slightly addressed(?) by Annabeth telling him to his face that she doesnt give him enough credit, that he’s pretty smart, I dont think thats enough for addressing this particular issue. There was a time in the middle that he almost snapped because he thought Annabeth probably thinks him too dumb to know what to do next. Which I understand is frustrating to him. But to be fair this book made him look at Annabeth for a solution a lot. Theres also little comments about how when he cant think of anything - which is every 60 seconds apparently according to him- he looks at Annabeth. This doesnt help the co dependent allegations LMAO. Idk, I will die on the Hill that Percy is one of the smartest people in the series, not just emotionally but also in strategy. And theres, of course, nothing wrong with looking at the genius strategist for answers. Ive mixed feelings because definitely this is more of a Percy-insecurity issue than an Annabeth-being-bossy issue. But okay. One more book, heres to hoping we get more heart to heart on that front because Im 999998% sure she doesnt mean to make him feel stupid, Percy’s just got a lot of demons to fight but this in particular they need to figure out together. Still, its obvious how much they care for each other still. If only Dave and Hana did not piss me off at the start Id probably be a little more lenient about this.

Annabeth’s fatal flaw also makes a comeback, we love to see it.

And Sally Estelle Jackson. Now we have to find out wth is Percy’s middle name cause if Sally has one odds are she gave her son too. Trust me. Im Filipino. Iykyk.

Lastly, while I will forever and ever and ever support the trio from pjotv (theyre perfect and have done nothing wrong ever) I can see Rick’s injecting their personalities into the books. Im not sure if he does this on purpose or just subconsciously LMAO. Some of Grover’s dialogue is definitely inspired by Aryan. Percy being Lanky? Walker through and through, especially with his growth spurt lmao, and Annabeth’s confidence? All Leah. I can see what Rick’s trying to do. Ive no opinion on this, just pointing it out. I do love love love the live action. Just. I can see you Rick. You aint slick.

So there. I probably would need to reread the book properly at some point.

[ashenquill]

It's time to info dump about my character headcanons some moreeeee I love spreading my agenda on the internet hehe

Mumbo Killsalot Jumbo is one of those ambiguous types where you can't tell if he's actually a hybrid or not? Like, there's something a little bit... off about him. Something distinctly non-human. Also he's a really weird guy, which makes even less sense, because at this point hybrids are like 60% of the population, and nobody bats(ha) an eye at them anymore, so it's not like he needs to hide it. But he is, in fact, secretly a vampire. Or at least, he's 1/16th vampire or something like that. He just remembers this one guy named Vlad who he refused to believe was actually his great-grandpa because he's literally, like thirty? How on Earth would he have been old enough to father children with children with children? Mumbo started believing it when he saw him again ten years later and he hadn't changed in the slightest. Suddenly, the strict nobody open the curtains rule made a lot more sense.

Now, even though Mumbo is technically a vampire, his family is primarily human. The only reason they even have vampiric origins is because Great-grandpa Vlad got turned at the ripe age of 27, and wasn't about to abandon his wife over his new and very serious garlic allergy. She thought it was all one big prank he was pulling to get out of working on the farm, but after twenty years and seven kids, she realized that being a stay-at-home dad was definitely not taking the toll it should.

Mumbo and his immediate family have retained a few of the traits they inherited from Vlad, but it manifests in very mild coincidences. His mom is allergic to garlic and his dad has a strange Scarland-Princess-like affiliation with bats. Mumbo, meanwhile, really got the short end of the stick, as he can't expose his shoulders to sunlight without them miraculously burning (he's gone through more bottles of M-77 brand sunscreen than he'd care to quantify). Not to mention the insomnia! He'd be lucky to get two hours of sleep on an average night, and the fact that the only affect it really has on him is making his eyes look baggy is truly an injustice. Wasn't insomnia supposed to cause other serious health problems? How could he even complain about it if he wasn't constantly overtired? Rather inconvenient, that.

Don't ask my why I have so much lore for this guy when I don't even write him that often. It's just the Mumbo Jumbo allure, I guess

Here's some other fun facts:

Smells like iron/copper (metallic)

Book smart - special knowledge of redstone

Likes: cloud gazing, embroidery, old westerns/duels/guns, rubix cubes (only to look at though, bro can’t solve them for shit)

Dislikes: designing floor plans, social interaction, eye contact

Passions: philanthropy, travel

Habits/other details: Super fidgety like holy shit he never stops moving, picks at his nails and has lots of scabs & hangnails bc of it, he is littered with cuts and bruises of unknown origin, also usually covered in redstone & he mistakes his blood for it half the time, can’t tell if he’s ADHD, ASD, or both (deffo both)

Reactive to their environment - does not like to be around danger most of the time, would rather watch from afar, would rather not even watch tyvm, too bad he’s always a victim, #easytarget, your honor he’s just a wet cat

Special, plot-relevant skills: good w/ redstone, rich asf

Insomniac, also has RLS, always tired but it’s not very obvious, mostly just has dumb blonde moments, his intelligence would be 10% more if he actually slept, what the heck Vlad why'd you have to get bit by a vampire

[verifiefangirl]

I've been rewatching Shadowhunters and just bear with me.

If you want to hit peak sad vibes read it with this is me trying.

Azriel is training with the girls and he notices Gywn seems off. Her smile wasn't as dazzling. Instead of her usual irreverence there seems to be a heavy weight on her shoulders. Her usual teasing and goading non-existence. Azriel is usually observant but he'd been paying special attention to the priestess lately. Even Nesta hadn't sensed something was bothering her yet. He knew better than to push but his eyes stayed glued to the other half of the ring throughout the whole session even though she was technically Cassian's charge.

Most of the trainees had dispersed after class but Gywn always went the extra mile to get a half an hour in alone. On a usual day, Az would either offer his teachings if his schedule wasn't packed which seemed fewer these days with the amount of responsibilities on his plate but today he just leaned against the archway and watched, his hazel eyes lost in thought as he catalogued her moves and her seemingly building frustrations. As she moved to the side of the ring to leave, ignoring his presence the whole time. He gently encircled her wrist with his fingers, stopping her in place.

"Berdara." His voice was deep like gravel, his all seeing eyes flickering over her worn form. Her breathing was rough from exertion, skin wan. Their eyes locked for a brief second and the amount of pain washing through those teal eyes knocked the breath from his chest. She jerked out of his touch and continued her descent down the house stairs without looking back.

It had been couple weeks since that incident and neither had spoken since that day. The following training sessions had followed a similar pattern with Gywn's mood plummeting further. Cassian, along with the other charges made sure to give the flamed-haired, nymph a wide bearth, in and out of training.

Azriel didn't know why he chose to go to the library. His shadows had been pressing on him all day, whispering utter nonsense. He told himself it was because he needed more resources on the otherworlds and nothing to do with the Valkyrie that resided there.

Clotho bowed her head to him in greeting. You seem more restless than usual this evening, Shadowsinger.

"Just some unfinished business." He mumbled back flatly as he disappeared inbetween the stacks. His wings were tucked in tight and body stiff. His fingers skimmed over multiple tombs until he found the one he was after. On a normal occassion he would just grab his books and go back to his office but his shadows urged him to watch, to listen.

He sighed. He could already feel a migraine coming on. He couldn't remember the last time he had gotten more than two hours of sleep in. His tired eyes skimmed over words and symbols. The sound of his pen scratching over parchment filling the silent air of the library.

He didn't know how much time had passed but he could feel a crick forming on his neck. He stood up to stretch, his muscles stiff from sitting for so many hours. He heard a slight shuffling coming from a level below the sound of voices. He stilled, knowing it was none of his business at all what was bothering Gywn but he went below anyway against his better judgement. His shadows were swirling like crazy around him.

He had every intention of making his presence known but stopped in his track when heard a white haired female berating Gywn. Every bone his body straightened at the tone.

"You are worthless, Gwyneth." She sniped as she slammed a tome in front of her.

"How am I supposed to read your sloppy writing." Gywn softly whispered something back that his ears couldn't make out.

"What are you good for if you can't do such a simple task that even five year olds have perfected. Mother above, you call yourself a priestess. Why have you been shackled to me? " She groaned.

Anger so hot choked Azriel. He wanted to roar at her for speaking to Gwyn who was one of the most capable people he knew in such a way. He knew that was a bad idea and took all his restraint to not defend her. He knew how as a male he was already intimidating in this place but add his darkness and shadows and he was terrifying sight, just like his father.

"I-I...I'm sorry, Merill." Gywn voice was shaky and her entire demeanour was defeated. Merill just looked at Gwyn in disgust before she stalked into another row of books.

Azriel watched as Gywn took a deep breath, trying to steady herself but he could see the tremble of her lips and the way her fingers kept opening and closing.

She turned to make a move back to the desks in the centre when she came face to face with him.

"Azriel!" Her voice conveying surprise. He could feel the shame rolling over her in waves. Her eyes were turned to the floor as her hands went behind her back.

"Are you okay?" His tone was soft but his eyes were still a hazel storm.

"Of course." She tried to play it off like it was nothing but her irreverent nature was nowhere to be found. Her lips still trembled and her eyes were like sea glass as they glistened.

"Gywn..." It was one of the few times he used her name and it seemed to break something inside of her. The dam had finally broken and a sobbed strangled in her throat as her hands went to her face to cover her tears.

"Everything she said is true, I couldn't save my sister, I couldn't complete the bloodrite on my own and I can't even write some damn notes for Merill. How can I call myself a priestess let alone a Valkyrie." Her body shook from how hard the tears were pouring out of her.

"She's wrong and you are too." He merely shrugged, knowing this would infuriate her. He could handle her annoyance, her anger, her teasing. Anything but that hopeless look in her eyes.

"You don't know anything about me." She scathed. He shrugged again, feigning calmness when he was anything but.

"I know enough to know this isn't you. You are a fighter and a scholar and the bestest friend Nesta has ever had. You are a Carythian and a Valkyrie and a Priestess. That is more achievements than most would ever accomplish in 10 lifetimes and sometimes what we think to be our greatest weakness is our biggest strength."

The Nephelle philosophy.

Gwyn blinked at him, stunned for a second.

"Thank you." the sound a mere whisper, tears still streaming down her face. She tentatively wrapped her arms around him. Both of their bodies went stiff. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been embraced by a women whom he wasn't in a physical relationship with. She made to pull away, clearly finding it too awkward but he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in closer. His breath ruffling her strands of hair. She melted into him now and his fingers gentled over her head as his eyes fluttered shut and he just enjoyed this moment. He felt warm and...and something else he couldn't quite name the emotion but it was nice to have a friend such as Gwyn. Who was fierce and loyal and went to the mat over and over again and she was here, hugging him and thanking him...He felt good..in a way he hadn't for many centuries now.

Thank you for listening to my ramblings. I have no doubt I'll have more Az inspo as I continue to rewatch the show and see more of the snacc off a man on screen and the way they both have that long they both have a long suffering vibe about them. Someone give these two characters a break with pina coladas

[sherryclover]

“I’m not great at capturing hearts, but I’ll try my best”

[SSR] Vi DeViller - Ghost Groom

Event hosted by: @gl00myb3arz

(That line does NOT fit the card what the heck!)

🪼: I trust that we’ll be able to save Sophie from that ghost prince groom thing soon !

🪼: The florist rarely sold blue roses back at Home.. They’re so pretty 😸

🪼: This Hat won’t stay on my head! It keeps sliding off every second…how am I supposed to stop the wedding like this?!

🪼: I’m not too familiar with romance if I’m being 100% honest, but it surely wouldn’t matter if you enjoy being with them right?

🪼: I took a glance through Ramshackles window and Sophie looks so darn pretty I’m so jellyyy! (/pos) and that ghost prince is- ahem. What who said that!

🪼: H-Hey! Don’t look at that! I wrote my cringy proposal in there-!

🪼: what the! Stop touching my hat-! O-oh you were just trying to adjust it.. Ahem, my apologies.

🪼: I refuse to get off of the roof of ramshackle! What if some guards see me again?? I’m too chicken to fight back!

🪼: What’s with ghosts kidnapping students nowadays?? That’s not really cool!!

🪼: I wonder how Eliza and her husband are doing right now!

Divider

Scratched reference drawing, My motivation did NOT wanna let me finish this🫠

(Her outfit is inspired by Furina de Fontaine’s outfit bc I didn’t know what to do..!! It took me so long to draw her tail coat thingy I was gonna give up on joining the event😟)

Some of her dialogues are inspired by some of the cards in the ghost bride event^^ (I was staring at aces dialogues for an hour and a half trying to figure out what to do😸)

(This was made at 1 am, Sorry if some of it doesn’t make sense)