#sass crash course

[alienzil]

Grandfathered In

There, a job well done. Alfred thought to himself as he put the last grocery bag in the back of the car. Meal planning and shopping for a family as large as his own (and their semi frequent unexpected guests) did take quite a bit of his time but he'd managed to finish a bit early this week.

Alfred was thinking fondly of spending his extra time with a nice cup of tea and a book when he heard a noise from the nearby alley.

He stilled and listened intently. That was the sound of someone in pain. A child in pain if he wasn't mistaken (a sound he would rather he wasn't so familiar with). Well then, the tea would have to wait.

Alfred quietly moved into the alleyway, his hand inside his coat gripping the pistol hidden there. Hurt child or not, it never hurts to be cautious in Gotham.

"Good Heavens!"

There was a boy with pure white hair and bright, barely open, luminous green eyes. He was curled up, partially hidden by the dumpster, clearly barely clinging to consciousness and was oozing bright green blood from a large abdominal wound as well as several smaller cuts and burns.

He approached slowly and held out his hands to try to appear as friendly and non threatening as possible. "You appear to be in a bit of trouble young sir, perhaps I can help?"

The boy nodded weakly and Alfred knelt down and reached to pick him up. Best to get him into the car quickly and make use of his emergency first aid kit to stabilize the boy then get him home for further treatment. The hospital clearly wasn't an option for the young Meta... or alien perhaps? Something to ask once the boy was up to it.

Alfred carefully cradled the child and briskly moved back towards the car. He appeared to be a young teenager but he weighed so little, Alfred almost felt as though he was holding a toddler rather than a teen.

He lay the boy down in the back seat and leaned over to reassure him, gently moving his hair out of his eyes and petting is head in a soothing gesture. "There now, we'll have you right as rain in no time."

"Ha" the injured young Meta tried to laugh. "Might take...some time.. Don't ya think?"

Oh he'd fit right in, Alfred couldn't help thinking. Sassing even as he lay there bleeding. Well, in spirit if not quite the usual appearance, Alfred considered, eyeing the white hair and bright green eyes but-

A bright white suddenly light filled the car. Alfred blinked away the spots from his vision then stared in astonishment at the now black haired, blue eyed boy before him. Well then, fit right in indeed.

*****

Bruce blearily wandered into the kitchen and sat down at the table just barely holding in a yawn. He'd been in space on a mission with the Justice League for over 3 weeks and had only just gotten back to Earth in time to crash into bed and get a few hours of sleep before he had to be back up.

He reached for his coffee and looked around the table at his children. Tired as he was, it was good to be home. It even looked like everyone had made it for breakfast, a rare event for their family. Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Stephanie, Barbara, Damian, Duke and...

"Who's this?" Bruce asked with friendly smile. Did one of his kids make a new friend?

Alfred silently appeared next to him. "That is your son."

"My son?" What was happening? Bruce was too tired for this. He counted again, Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Stephanie, Barbara, Damian, Duke and...he looked closely at the last one. Black hair, blue eyes. Looks like one of his... He had no idea who this child was.

"Your son." Alfred said firmly as he sat some papers next to Bruce's plate.

Bruce looked down. Those were adoption papers.

"Oh. My. God." Stephanie whisper screamed from across the table. "That's where B got the adoption habit from!"

Bruce's attention was diverted from the multiple children trying to shush Stephanie as an uncapped pen was placed in front of him. He looked up as Alfred raised a single eyebrow and gave him a pointed look.

"Right, of course. My son."

He quickly scanned the adoption papers as he signed them then looked over at his latest child.

"Welcome to the family, Danny."

Note: I don't currently have plans to continue this. Anyone can add on if they would like to :-)

[auragasmics]

HE LOVES IT WHEN I...

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ synopsis! sugar daddies just love their sugar babies. but for you, these rich dilfs have a soft spot for your antics!

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ pairings! sugar daddy iwaizumi hajime, kuroo testsurou, oikawa toru x fem!reader

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ cw! 1.3k, drabble + headcannon format, age gap (hq men are early 40's, reader is late 20s), fingering, cl♡ t slapping, dom!iwa is a little mean, spoiled!reader, daddy kink (sry not sry, let's grow up ://) phone sex/video call sex, vouyerism, exhibitionism, mutual masturbation, pillow-tribbing

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ xoxo, chris! love hq men...love and cherish them!

Sugar Daddy!Iwaizumi loves it when you throw tantrums!

He finds it all the most alluring, fueling the dominance within his veins. Whether it’s Every bit of attitude, pout, and sass you give him, he absorbs it, keeping careful count of each occurrence. 

Unbeknownst to you, Iwaizumi finds such joy in your little tantrums, especially right now. He knows how you’ve been crushing on some new bag, he still remembers your presentation of the newly released collection you swiped through a few nights before. To keep his precious girl happy, he’s taken the day off just to court you himself. 

But all that comes crashing down when the heel of your pearly white stilettos threatens to pierce through the glossy white floor of the boutique when he denies you of that purse you claim to need —oh so— much. He chuckles intently, guiding his pouty princess back out to the car with the driver waiting patiently. 

He gives you a few minutes to calm down, soothing you with soft pecks along the crook of your neck. He knows exactly what gets your legs spreading and those curvy hips bucking in the air. 

His girthy digits drift down to your panties, ripping the gossamer material to the side. Iwaizumi toys with your clit for a while, sighing at how easily the tender bud slips against his calloused pads. It’s satisfying to both of you, giving birth to the arousal brewing at the pit of your belly. 

“You must hate me, I know, I know. But y’re makin’ such a mess you’re making on my fingers, baby. So fucking cute,” he grins, teasing the slit of your cunt with pulsing fingers. Just when you prepare yourself mentally for the delicious stretch, an abrupt jab of pain distracts you—the fresh sting of Iwaizumi’s thick fingers crashing against your clit. 

“Hajime, wait!” His name comes flying from your gaping mouth. Your eyes peer down at Iwaizumi’s hand reeling back to land another slap. But there’s a certain detail that makes this little session of punishment even worse.

What makes it worse is how Iwaizumi’s display of dominance turns you on and the proof decorates his calloused hand. It’s disgusting how the flat of his palm glimmers in your slick—almost like the gems from the handbag you wanted so badly. 

Before you could even think, Iwaizumi laid his lips along your ear, his warm breath nipping at the flustered shell. He had a message for you and he thinks that this time, you’ll get it loud and clear.

“Don’t you ever embarrass me in public like that again, or else I’ll fuck the reminder into that thick skull of yours.”

Sugar Daddy!Kuroo loves it when you call his name!

He swears it fills his stomach with those innocent butterflies, hearing his bubbly muse coo his name. It’s a cute purr, flows right off your tongue, and ends in a smile that could make Kuroo empty out his bank account right at that moment. He likes to play dumb sometimes, claiming his hearing fades in and out from time to time. Yet, Kuroo always stands tall and giddy with perked ears, waiting for you to repeat yourself.

Kuroo especially loves when you call out to him in grace for his services, ranging in a multitude of forms. His favorite one, of course, is when your orgasm hinges at the tips of your freshly manicured toes, the nerves prickling at the surface of your supple skin.

With his cock buried so deep inside your—his—cunt, it drags along your walls with such intensity. But Kuroo doesn’t dare to increase the pace, his hips lagging behind a languid drive. Not as it matters, even without using a pummeling force, Kuroo still manages to have your body on edge. 

“Aww, what’s wrong, Angelface? Use your words, what do you want from me?” He’ll tease, using those thick fingers of his to squeeze your cheeks together, forcing out a wet pucker from your drooling lips. It’s all just overwhelming, the heat of the room, his hunkering frame shadowing above your own. 

Your hands claw at his forearm, proving his resolve to be stronger than your own. It wasn’t your fault, it was Kuroo’s stubborn ego, acting as the driving effort to see that his needs are met. Kuroo lays a trail of pecks up to your neck, lingering along your jawline and ending at your cheek, each one dressed with apathy.

His words are just teasing, the only solace being his hitching pants warming the shell of your ear as he spoke smugly. 

“Say it with me now, Te-tsu-rou…c’mon Baby, say it for Daddy. Tell me just how you wanna cum all over my cock.”

Sugar Daddy! Oikawa loves it when you send him pictures!

It’s a boost of confidence, sending the man photos whenever you decide to frilly yourself up for the day. Even if it’s just running to the store, Oikawa wants it all. 

He loves to have a collection of his precious baby looking her best, making up for all the times he couldn’t join you. Whether he’s away for work or tucked up inside a stuffy hotel room, he’s swiping through his file of photos reserved just for you and that gorgeous smile. Yet when it’s the ungodly hours of the night, he’s upping his game from pictures to full-blown videos, even video calls to please his fancy. 

Each one of these calls consists of you dollied up and dressed in his favorite set of lingerie. And with what he likes, it barely leaves anything to his imagination. To have those sheer panties hanging around your waist, just for the inner seam to leave you crotchless. What's better than getting straight to the chase? 

That’s what he likes and that’s what has your phone propped against the headboard, giving his heavy tourmaline hues the scene of you desperately rutting into his pillow on the bed. The satin pillowcase dragged along your clit, taunting the sensitive bud with its smooth material. 

Your inner thighs scrape along the plush fabric, your hips rocking into the cotton. Keeping a constant pace is key to your impending high, the soft moans flowing from your mouth like a crystal clear stream of the purest water. Oikawa had his sights pinned on you, watching your desperate search for a climax unfold before him. 

“Feels good, right Princess?” He’ll ask with a heavy chest, Oikawa wincing at how rough the palm of his hand was. It was nothing like your touch, the plush skin of your digits that would struggle to hold his length.

He was struck by an off sense of nostalgia, memories of his salacious youth being re-lived with each uncaring stroke of his fist. Just to even come close to your touch, Oikawa removed bits of his barreling strength, the pad of his thumb swiping at the blushing head of his dribbling cock. He bit his lip greedily, his ears piqued for your reply. 

You hum in response, clutching the puffy mass in your fist. It did feel nice, working yourself into an orgasm underneath Oikawa’s watchful eye. Knowing that he’s on the other side, stroking that fat cock of his with his rough hands, and wishing he had your sputtering pussy instead is all the motivation you need.

“I-I’m so close, wanna cum with you, ‘Ru,” you mew out, increasing your mere nudges to erratic bucks of desire. Oikawa could only growl in return, the frustration of his inadequate touch pitting him against time. Tossing his head back, the apple of his throat bobs at his staggering pace. At the final moments of his stability, Oikawa groaned out his final request of the night, something you couldn’t attempt to defy.

“Cum for me, Pretty. You better make a fucking mess for me to come back to, got it?”

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ xoxo, chris! a repost from my old blog, but i hope you still enjoyed!

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Angel || LN4

Summary: Kingsday gets a little wild, in honour of Lando’s nose. Warnings: alcohol, injuries, blood WC: 1.7k

Lando wasn’t drunk, but he was by no means sober either. Everyone had warned him the Kingsday event was a marathon not a sprint so he was taking it slow, sipping his rum and coke out of the orange paper cup while the river boat cruised its course.

By midafternoon it was another story completely.

Martin had taken a break and let a playlist continue the party without him on the deck while he went in search of Lando. The British driver had reached the point of being tipsy and fallen into a state of drunkenness where he could no longer block out his intrusive thoughts. Everywhere he looked couples were dancing or making out and he couldn’t help the despair of loneliness that separated him from the fun.

Leaning back on the cushions that covered the bow, Lando looked up to the bright blue sky and wondered why he couldn’t find someone that loved him with the same passion he had. He was always the one to fall harder and knew it was why things didn’t work out long-term.

The half empty cup was stolen from his hand and Lando lolled his head to see Martin drinking it dry. “No more for you, my friend. Smile! It’s Kingsday: the sun is out and the music is loud.”

“Sorry,” Lando sighed, not quite able to muster up a real smile.

“What’s wrong?” Martin dropped onto a cushion beside him and nudged his shoulder until Lando spilled the thoughts he was harbouring.

—

“These heels are killing me,” you complained as they wobbled on the cobblestone. “Can we stop for a minute?”

There were groans from some of the guys in the group but their girlfriends silenced them. You smiled gratefully at your friends but knew they were in just as much pain after hours of drinking in the city for Kingsday. The thought of walking any further to the house party someone had invited everyone to nearly had you calling for a taxi, despite the chances of getting one next to nothing.

“Lennon said there will be tons of single guys at the party. In that dress you will totally pull a 10,” Sarah said as she leaned back against the bridge rail and rolled each ankle to ease the ache.

You laughed at the statement and mirrored her position, careful not to drop the glass you had accidentally stolen from the last bar. “Getting laid isn’t the problem, it’s getting the guy to stick around afterwards.”

“Relationships are overrated,” she said, blowing a kiss to Lennon when he looked her way and raised a brow. “Not ours, baby.”

You sighed longingly as they shared a smile. “I want what you guys have.”

“Well then you better hurry up because the love of your life might just be waiting for you. Wouldn’t want to miss that, would you?”

You rolled your eyes but decided that you would continue the walk barefoot and put your heels back on when you got to the house. Leaning against the rail, you balanced on one foot and reached for your heel just as a drunkard went flying past on his e-bike.

“Ah, shit!” you screamed as you lost your balance, toppling back over the rail and straight towards the murky water below.

—

Martin yawned as he listened to Lando’s long winded explanation for why he was alone and all his friends were in relationships.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was putting you to sleep,” he sassed.

“Well if you want some advice, from someone in a relationship, you’re not helping yourself moping around. For starters, you need to get up,” Martin encouraged as he rose to his feet and offered his friend a hand before the sunlight disappeared, the boat passing under one of the many bridges. “Love isn’t going to just fall into your lap-”

A scream pierced the air before a flurry of orange material crashed onto Lando, both their eyes squinting to readjust to the bright sunlight out of the tunnel.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you realised you were still alive and you looked around to see what had broken your fall. “Holy shit, I am so sorry!”

A stunned man sat beneath you and you reached for his face as you noticed the blood running down his nose. “Oh my god, did I do that? Are you alright? Shit, you probably don’t speak English.”

“He speaks English. It’s getting him to shut up that’s the problem,” a man standing above you said with a laugh. “Lando, mate, snap out of it.”

You started to climb off his lap but his arms tightened around you and he shook his head with a wince. “Don’t move, you might have broken something.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you apologised again.

“Not me, you muppet,” he laughed. “You might have broken something.”

You patted yourself down, straightening your dress back into place at the same time, but everything felt fine. You tested your wrists and ankles too, only to notice you had indeed broken things.

“What’s the damage?” Lando asked.

“Ego mostly,” you admitted sheepishly. “I think I broke my heel on your face.”

“Pretty sure that was your glass,” he said looking at what remained in your hand, the sting of the cut on your palm finally appearing when you noticed the blood on the broken glass. “How bad is it? Am I hideous?”

“You are still a 10,” you giggled after noticing he was devastatingly handsome, even with the cut across his nose. Grabbing the hem of your dress, you gently dabbed the blood away before realising that it was a stupid idea. “You don’t have any diseases, do you?”

“Rabies,” his friend joked.

“Speak for yourself, mate,” Lando shot back and while they bickered jokingly you heard your name called from the river bank. “Is that your boyfriend?”

“Are you alive?” Lennon shouted as he ran along with the boat.

“Nope, I’ve died and gone to heaven!”

“I’ll let Sarah know!” He grew smaller as he stopped running and the boat continued downstream to some unknown destination.

“That’s my best friend’s boyfriend,” you explained as you patted your bra but found your phone missing. “Can I borrow your phone? I think mine drowned.”

Lando carefully shifted you so he could get to his pocket before settling you back on his lap. The grateful smile you gave him almost made him drop the device and he had to enter his passcode in twice before he got it right.

“Where is this boat heading to?” you asked as the dial tone connected. “Hey, it’s me, calm down, I’m alive.”

“Good, I’ll kill you myself! You gave me a fucking heart attack, woman!” You had to hold the phone away from your ear as she shouted her concern.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m sorry for giving you a heart attack.”

“As you should be! Len said you landed on some guy. Is he hot?”

Your face heated and you knew he had heard the question with the curious look on his face. “Mhmm, very.”

“You should invite him to the party and do a little sexy dance for him!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I kind of…broke his face.”

The silence was damning before you swore you heard her laugh from all the way upstream. “Only you could have the worst luck with men.”

“Trust me, I know all too well. Anyway, they are stopping at the Rose Bridge so I’ll just meet you guys there. Guess my luck isn’t all that bad.”

You ended the call and handed the phone back.

“What party are you going to?” Lando asked as he pocketed it again.

“I don’t know, it’s some house party. There’s a local DJ playing.”

Lando’s smile grew and he pointed to his friend. “Local DJ, ha!”

As it turned out the house party wasn’t actually a party at someone’s house and the DJ wasn’t just locally renowned. Once you were finally introduced to Lando’s friend you found out he was the DJ, Martin Garrix, and Lando was even more famous.

“I can’t afford a lawsuit,” you groaned when you realised you had practically assaulted a celebrity.

“It’s just a scratch,” Lando assured you after Martin found a first aid kick. His poor attempt at wrapping a bandage made Lando look like a mummy so you took the box yourself and found a couple of small butterfly stitches. “Nothing a kiss wouldn’t fix.”

You giggled at his flirty nature you had come to adore in the last hour and if you hadn’t drunk so much liquid courage at the bar you probably wouldn't have been able to lean closer and kiss his cheek. His skin was warm and soft beneath your lips and when you opened your eyes you found his blue eyes staring intently back. “Better?”

He shook his head. “Nope, I think it needs another try.”

“Hmmm, good idea.” You kissed his other cheek and grinned when he pouted. “No? One last try.”

Your fingers delighted in the feel of his soft hair as you combed the curls and dipped your head to his. Your heart rate spiked and you closed your eyes as you kissed his pillow-soft lips teasingly slowly before his hands cupped your face and he deepened the kiss.

You broke away with a small gasp and your eyes were wide with the want for more. It was a look reflected on Lando’s face as he gently stroked your heated cheeks.

“Hey, lovebirds! We’re here,” Martin called as the boat reached the canal edge.

You kicked off your broken heels and Lando frowned before he gave you his, looping his fingers into the straps of your shoes to carry them. You were already wearing his shirt since your dress had his blood on it and you were certain you looked at absolute mess.

“Ready to party, Angel?”

“Angel?”

“What else would I call a beautiful woman who fell from the heavens?” Lando wondered if he was making a mistake and moving to fast like he always did but it was too late, the question was already out there.

“You could call me your girlfriend.” You cringed in an instant. “I mean not tonight, that would be way too quick but-”

Lando cut you off with a kiss and you felt his smile against your lips before he asked, “How about tomorrow?”

[miyaz6ki]

how about alhaitham fucking you on the couch, telling you to hush up in case kaveh comes home?

he asked you to come over to help decide on final designs for a few of his upcoming projects. but suddenly, the honest urge to have just taken you right then and there on the couch-

you didn't have to wear a skirt that short . . shit did you really wanna tease him like this? nasty girl.

he threw his head back as he worked himself inside your hole, erection only worsening, pants getting tighter and you were laid out in front of him on the couch.

"such a dirty slut. you didn't even wear panties? are you asking me to punish you? you could've just said so, brat." his digits scissored your hole, stretching your drooling cunt nice and wide before you take his dick.

he lands a rough kiss to your lips, crashing his own—chapped and hungry for your taste. the sound of his belt unbuckling never was unfamiliar, only turning you on more as you watched his phallus rise, taking a gulp nervously as you could already feel his tip teasing your entrance.

it's been almost 2 hours, and he kept going at it, your sticky hole felt warm, all the same. each time only adding more substance inside when you arch you back so your lover can hit that spot you just love so much so good.

"hnngh . . ! 'haitham annhh- fffuck I love y'r dick- nnhh-!" your loud whines he could only degrade for now, for wanting him to bend you over and fuck you over a dining table in public? of course he had to teach you first you couldn't have everything you want.

all of a sudden before the final brick of pleasure was about to be placed, alhaitham suddenly pulls out. "wha- haithammmm! please?" the tone of your voice made him and his cock eager to thrust inside you and make you all pretty n' sticky.. but he had to resist such a sight.

"been suuuch a damn good-looking brat today, you can't have it I'm afraid. what if someone else had seen this instead of me.. would you have wanted that, baby?" his tone filled with a pinch of sass, and the rest of his personality.

but who wouldn't be just a little.. possessive of you when you look so easy to just devour everything from your ears till your toes.

he shushed your cries, and pleads to make him cum inside. you know that he can't do that just yet, not until your wedding day. hmm, he definitely had to propose soon.

fat tears slowly start to run down your cheeks as alhaitham leaned in close, the previous mating press-like position you were put it now had one of your legs over his shoulder.

he started to kiss your tears away, he hated to see you cry, shit don't pull this trump card right now..

he starts to match his pace as to how a chef would cook their meals. fast, and efficient. he made no second wasted, performing small, hushed and hurried thrusts into you. a finger over your mouth to keep you down. he could hear a key jingle at the door of the home—it was his roommate kaveh.

but fuck was he so close to cumming too. he could see it through your velvety tongue that lolled out each time he grinded his angry, red tip against you g-spot.

before he knew it, he already pulled out to release, getting a few drops of his cum on your chest, over to your face. and damn would he be glad to lick it all off your body—but the door opens.

"i'm ho- OH WHAT THE FUCK—" the blond drops his things on the floor, mehrak quickly swiping them up onto its head as kaveh stands in shock.

[starkenobi]

Heyyy I would love to see a Natasha soulmates ficlet. Or a body swap with Natasha

masterlist

Hope you like this, honey!! Thank you for joining the celebration 💜

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

warnings: none

"We need to stop collecting super soldier like strays in the curb." Tony proclaimed, with all the seriousness he could manage at 3 am during a mission. "No finesse, just Shrek."

Without missing a beat, you said matter-of-factly. "Well, I know he's not talking about me."

"Oh, of course he's talking about dumb and dumber." Natasha fake whispered, smirking at you.

You were walking down a collapsed corridor with her at the basement floor, while Tony investigated the top floor, and Bucky looked around the second floor with Steve.

"Shup up." Bucky growled in your earpiece, making you giggle.

"Hey, look." Natasha called you, pointing to a side room. "I think we found something."

You turned to investigate inside. It was dark, but you could see something right in the middle. "Alright, gonna look closer."

"Wait a sec!" Natasha hissed, but you were already stepping inside the room.

"What? It's fine-"

Before you could sassy her, you felt (and heard) a soft clicking after stepping closer enough to the middle of the room. A bright green light illuminated the room and right after a red light followed by an energy explosion, throwing you back like you weight nothing. You crashed into Natasha, her body falling to the grow with a thud.

For a moment, all the lights went out.

Head spinning and felling a weight on top of your body, you groaned.

"Dammit," you heard your voice groan. "I told you to wait."

What?

Why were you saying that if you didn't think of saying?

"Girls, status." Tony's worried voice called at the same time Steve said, "We're going down there."

"Goddammit, everything hurts." you heard your voice again.

What the fuck?

"Tasha, something's wrong." you said, but the voice coming out of your mouth wasn't yours.

Oh no.

You sat up abruptly, knocking Natasha off you in the process and looked at yourself. Clothes. Hands.

Oh shit.

"Oh fuck this not happening." Natasha said with your voice.

And you looked in her direction and saw yourself staring back.

"What's going on, loverbirds?" Tony questioned, alarmed by our voices.

"Well, hope you can learn how to body swap, genius."

"Is that some kinky shit? That sounds like some kinky shit." Bucky mocked.

"Shut up." You and Natasha ordered at the same time.

The first week, people had a hard time remembering that you had changed bodies.

The first month, you kept hurting yourself because you were always forgetting that Natasha's body didn't have the same super soldier blood. While Natasha took advantage of your body and put some agents to timeout.

Second month, the team started making jokes and playing pranks after noticing it wasn't a sore spot anymore.

Month three, you got so drunk that you tried to convince Natasha of sleeping together to know how would be the feeling of kissing herself (she sassed back a "I kiss you every morning, go to sleep").

By the seventh month, you were starting to lose hope.

But it was Natasha who cracked first.

"Tasha, I don't think it's a good idea," you followed to Tony's lab. She was holding a bat. "Tasha-"

Ignoring you, she swings the bat into the machine using your super soldier force.

"Oh shit, Tony's gonna be so pissed!"

She hit it one more time, growling angrily "Fuck this dammed thing!"

On the third hit, the machine glowed green.

"It's happening!" You squealed, running to her at the same time Natasha prepared to hit one last time.

A bright red light exploded, throwing you and Natasha across the lab (and destroying some of Tony's stuff).

Oh damn.

"What the fuck, crazy women!" Tony yelled, "Couldn't you wait for me to finish my coffee?"

[lcriedlastnight]

Y/n thinks Lando wants nothing to do with her so she goes on a date with someone else and Lando angrily comes to crash it

amazing idea! thanks for your request anon! also i listened to this song while i wrote this and i think it goes so well!

tw: fem!reader, swears, miscommunication i think, idk lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 1.7k

"this is actually exciting! how long as it been since you've been on a date?" your friend asks as she curls a piece of your soft hair around her hair curler. you shrug, a little embarrassed at how long it has been since someone had asked you out. you had invited your best friend to come over and help you get ready. it was some guy called jamie that had asked you out and you were almost certain he was an engineer in the mclaren garage.

so when you both hear a knock at the door two hours before he was supposed to pick you up, you are both in a tizzy. your friend almost burned your neck with the scorching hot curling wand. you throw the nearest thing you can find over the top of your - quite revealing- top. it happens to be a black t-shirt lando had left at yours the last time he had stayed over.

the british driver was the sole reason why you had never been on a date with a guy for a whole two years. you had been friends since his f1 debut but just shy of a year ago, things progressed between the two of you. lando had gotten second in his home race and he was over the moon. you had finally been able to make it to the race, your work schedule finally clearing up in your favour for the first time in a while. to make an incredibly long and complex story short, you had ended up friends with benefits. your agreement had lasted up until last week. the rules were you two had to end things before seeing anyone else but you were to stay friends no matter what and of course, lando had found some girl he wanted to take out so he broke things off. it broke you. you knew falling for lando was a stupid thing to do and you really did try not to but it was difficult, he was lando, he was one of your best friends for a reason. so when jamie asked you out, you had jumped at the chance to try and get over your curly haired best friend.

you open the door to see none other than lando on the opposite side.

"hey, you look good, where you going?" he asks as he walks past you and into your apartment. you roll your eyes at him letting himself in. what was even the point of knocking in the first place?

"she's got a date and we're in the middle of getting ready right now." your friend sasses lando as she emerges from your room, her 'getting ready' playlist, as she had dubbed it, was still blaring in the room. lando looks up at you from his spot on your couch. his eyes narrow.

"a date?" the boy questions. you furrow your brows, unsure at what he is trying to get at.

"yes. a date. you know, like the one you went on last week? one of those." your a little teasing as you throw your words at him. lando rolls his eyes.

"yeah yeah i know what a date is, i'm just confused. i didn't know you were looking to date?" lando says and you were probably making it up but you swore you could sense some hurt in his voice. yeah there was no way that lando was hurt that you were going on a date, he had literally done the same thing and broken it off with you to do so, last week!

"i'm not looking to date. i got asked out and i said yes." you explain even though you don't really need to explain yourself. lando didn't with you.

"you never say yes. who asked you out?" lando interrogates you, it annoyed you to no end.

"does it really matter? i think he's nice. i never asked you all these questions when you went out on your date last week, did i?" you roll your eyes, walking back over to your friend, silently letting her know you wanted to go back through to your room to get ready and to fet away from lando. you don't wait to listen to see if lando responds - he doesn't anyway, keeping quiet. he knew you were right. it was wrong to act like this, to act jealous of this guy, not when you guys weren't even serious. not that you seen it that way. to you, lando was just being protective.

you sit back down with a sigh, while your friend returns to curling your hair. your friend tries to distract you from whatever just happened with lando as you turn the music up and try to get excited for your date. it gets a little hard when there is a lull in the conversation between the two of you and your mind starts working overtime. you start to wonder if lando would even want anything to do with you after him and this girl get closer. you have always dreaded the day one of lando's girlfriends would want you two to create some distance between you both. you had a sneaky feeling that it would be sooner rather than later.

the timing is perfect as you hear several knocks at your door just as your spraying your favourite gucci perfume lando had gotten you from christmas. even going on a date with someone else, lando was with you the whole time. you answer the door with a smile on your face, jamie returning it.

your friend and lando are sat on your couch watching a random show lando had put on while waiting for you to get ready. he did want to apologise but your date was here and he would rather do it just the two of you anyway. when the brunette seen it was one of the mclaren engineers, he feels the anger swell up inside of him. that should be him, lando had finally realised in that moment, lightbulb lighting up in his brain.

you go off with jamie, his arm interlocked with yours. he takes you to some fancy restaurant not too far away. he talks the full time about his job as an engineer and how exciting it was moving from race to race with the mclaren drivers. he babbles on and on about how he has been interested in motorsports since he was a child and how working with an actual formula one team had been his dream since forever. all the guy spoke about was himself. not once asking you about yourself or your own job. you had tried to get a word in but it was difficult when he just did not stop talking about himself since you both had sat down. the only time he was not talking was when his mouth was full of food.

you had gotten maybe halfway through your main course before you hear heavy footsteps heading towards your general direction. jamie is still talking away about how he got his degree and how amazing school was for him like you were actually listening and if he even spared a glance in your direction then he would be able to tell by your face that absolutely were not, in any way shape or form, listening. you probably had not even taken a word in since before the starters.

the footsteps get closer until they stop at your table. you look up and your eyes meet lando's furious ones. you were confused as to why he was angry but you were sure you were both (and maybe the entire restaurant) were about to find out.

"what the fuck are you doing?" lando asks you. this finally made jamie stop talking. you could kiss lando for many different reasons, the main one being he looked hot when he was angry.

"me? what am i doing?" you ask. lando nods his head. "i'm on my date. the one i said i was going on."

lando scoffs. "with one of my engineers? you're doing this to get back at me for ending things." lando straight up accuses you. you gasp up at him, dumbfounded. this causes jamie to speak up again and ask "you two were a thing? i didn't know," he looks at lando "seriously, man i didn't know, she didn't say anything. if i knew i would never have asked her out."

lando just stares at the man. his hand then digs into his pocked and fishes out his wallet, throws cash down on the table, grabs your hand pulling you out of your chair and drags you out the restaurant. once outside and away from anyone, you pull your hand out of his grasp.

"what are you doing? i told you i was going on a date! you have no right to act like this!" you shout at him, finger pointing at him.

lando's eyes roll. "yeah but you didn't mention it was with someone i work with. you are clearly trying to get back at me for going on a date with that girl and ending things with you." lando accuses you again.

"how is that me getting back at you? i already told you i don't care who you want to date. kiss who you want i couldn't care less." you lie straight to his face and lando can tell straight away. instead of arguing about it with you though. he mumbles "i wanna kiss you." then pushes you against the brick wall, gently before his lips are attacking yours. he leaves little nips and bites as he kisses you harshly. letting a bit of his frustrations because of the lost time between the two of you, out in the kiss. you kiss back just and hard. your hands clutch at his shirt as he holds your hips in place against the wall. lando pulls away panting, his forehead resting on yours.

"m'so sorry. i couldn't stand the thought of you with someone else. then i realised that's probably how you felt with me too, then i just had to see you and stop you from spending anymore time with him." lando explains, a little guilty. you smile as you let your hand come up to stroke his eyebrow gently.

"he was a fucking bore anyways." you tell lando who laughs as he leans in for another kiss.

[catboysooyoung]

Just read the recent arc (chapter 120+) with Braun and it's driving me crazy fr. Craziest situationship breakup ever and Braun having a Lestat level crash out over fumbling thee Kim Soleum that it's bringing out his peak petty gay side so bad. Gets broken up with and his literal world comes crashing down on him. (Understandable tbh.)

And then. And then.

As if it's not enough, Kim Soleum gotta hit us (and Braun) with that gentle curve ball??? I know he's a good and virtuous guy despite his claims so far, but fuck I didn't expect him to be this gentle? I know he's sincere, but I didn't know it was to this extent??? He's aiming to turn this into the most amicable breakup of the century. And he does this by actually leveling with Braun, trying to have a genuine, sincere conversation with him.

Even when he's being sassed, Kim Soleum responds with empathetic understanding. Even when Braun makes bad faith assumptions about Kim Soleum's intentions and perspective, Soleum gently corrects him, and even praises him honestly.

A commenter points out that this is one of Kim Soleum's greatest strengths, his sincerity. Because sure, he's doing this because he wants to escape, but he's also doing this with the earnest desire to settle this breakup amicably, because he truly and sincerely appreciates Braun as a friend, an equal. That even after all of this, Kim Soleum still tries to understand Braun's perspective, tries to find common ground between them and tries to rebuild that connection with him.

Kim soleum for example, comes to understand, that he really can't change Braun's nature, that is, he can't "fix him". He doesn't look Braun in the eyes and tell him "Look at me, this isn't you!" Because he knows that this is Braun. The darkness entity that looms over and destroys with no regard to human morality is Braun. But he appreciates Braun, nonetheless.

He is still willing to reforge their connection, rebuild their burned bridge and this, of course, understandably, touches Braun, and soothes his anger, reminding him of all the fun times they've had together, as truly Good Friends....

I've never really understood the appeal of self shipping before (more power to those who do it), but now.... Fuck. I want to get broken up with by Kim Soleum so badly.

[mixingandmelting]

Hey so how do you think the bat boys would deal with their s/o being besties with Jason, it just naturally happened on its own? Depending on s/o age, teen Jason is like “anyone Wanna come to a bar with me?” And teen s/o is like, “I can’t go”. And Jason is like “I can always get you fake I.D”. And s/o is so tempted, “0.0 you can?! Yea I’ll go with you then” (he pulled the fake I.d on Tim once and Tim declined 😂) / this leads into adulthood, but sometimes, Jason and s/o are in sync for some decisions and sass too? He breaks into their apartment and crashes the night on the couch sometimes, s/o lets him. S/o goes to him for favours too if their boyfriend can’t help. (It’s like he has a sister around basically). (Think of Donna and Dick’s relationship. Close bond Brother sister friendship. S/o thinks their friendships cute).

A/N: Feat. some canon facts where Tim actually hates being called Timmy, Duke considering Jason as a big jerk (to put it lightly) + some Jason love letters on the end from the boys to him 😌

Dick:

It’s pure exasperation where he treats it equivalent to how everyone else constantly either break into his unit or call him whenever they have an issue

All the third-wheeling on food dates and crashing unannounced in movie nights, he knows they’re all intentional

Going from you asking him to let Jason stay, the two of you knowing he can’t say no to you

It’s worse when he puts his foot down and say no, where Jason would remind him it’s thanks to the former he was able to go out with you

Makes him consider multiple times to give into his violent urges so he could wipe that knowing, smug smirk off the former’s face just once. Hating that it’s the truth regardless of you voicing your agreement while fully aware how the whole argument was scripted by the two of you well to the T so he’d have no choice but to give in

There’s also how he hasn’t figure out what and whom to be most jealous of : Jason for having known you longer than he has,  you for the same reason with the exception you were able to form somewhat a “normal” bond with him-

He still hasn’t gotten over the picture that led to all of this where fourteen years old you and Jason are side by side, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders with a cigarette hanging on the lips (and to much of his embarrassment when you both point this out, he wasn’t concerned about you two smoking illegally, more focused you two were besties since then and without adding him)

Tim:

No. Just no

Gets a headache every single time he thinks about and remembers you and Jason were besties since childhood whenever you and Jason decide to team up against and troll him

Most of the time it happens when you get fed up with his antics and stubbornness, leading you to go to his oh-so-loving sibling for help

The usual course of action is you suddenly disappearing from the GPS tracker without a trace and NOT triggering the alarm system which leads him to go on a full out hunt only to find you hanging out at Jason’s place and talking about the latest season of Bridgerton

Or you call him by his most hated nickname “Timmy” for the next few days which got leaked to you by a certain Red Hood after apparently venting to him about the argument you and him had

It’s totally not because he thought he was the favorite sibling when Jason invited and took him to the bar back during his teen years, thinking it was only to him he did it to when in fact you were invited and have been going to the same exact bar ever since before Tim (though it’s a relief to hear you did not in fact drank alcohol when you went there during your younger years)

Still, one more dark-joke and he’s going to lose it

Duke:

Doesn’t know what to make out of it

You? Being not just friends but book buddies with Jason? Sweet, kind, loving you? With that asshole?

Apparently the story was Red Hood saving you in the past and you had given him your signed copy from an author both you happened to like

And you only told him after he saw you and Jason greet each other at the manor casually while trading books and asked what that was about

Like, wasn’t that something you should’ve told him-??? Help him mentally prepare himself so it wouldn’t be so jarring to see you and Jason fanning over Jane Austen

He’s glad he’s not the only one in the family when Tim and Damian sides with him and blankly watch sparkles and glitter coming from the conversation about “Mr. Darci” 

Damian:

He wants Todd to stay away from you but unfortunately that doesn’t happen with you having once gotten mad at him for telling you and the older male that. He’s proud to announce he changed it to standing 10 feet away at minimum

Still tries to attack and get him away from you behind your back 

Finds it irritating more because of how Jason would jab at him by asking how someone as rational, friendly, and tolerant as you ended up with him.  And though he does agree mentally you are friendlier, he would like the other to know he is the more rational and tolerant one in the relationship 

Whenever you’d quip here and there along the lines of agreement, he does not sulk. He just disagrees with it and starts walking away until you grab his arm and peck him on the cheek, while telling him you were teasing  

Doesn’t change the fact whenever Jason takes your attention away from him, he adds it to his list of reasons why the older male needs to be taken out 

All:

Genuinely glad Jason has a best friend and it’s you

Begrudgingly acknowledges him to also be the best wingman and mediator in their romantic relationships 

Also finds him a bad influence to you especially when it comes to pranks and providing you their most embarrassing stories

[bunny-jpeg]

could i get a lewis hamilton fic - lemon slice and coffee please! i love your writing

bakery menu

if you want to request your own order! feel free, the bakery is still open! as for this request, i didn't get a lot of lewis suggestions so i'd love more in the future! thank you for submitting!

lemon slice ("i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making.") + coffee (rivals)

cw: smut/pwp, rivals au, driver!reader, snark & sass, hate sex, protected sex,

you bounced on the balls of your feet as you waited to get the go ahead to get into the car to start the free practice. it eventually turned into you swinging your arms back and forth. it was a concerted effort to keep yourself calm before the official start of race weekend.

"you definitely don't seem nervous." you heard behind you. you looked over and saw lewis, passing by. you huffed through your nose and we back to what he was doing.

in the two years since you joined the formula one roster, the one driver you seemed to have the most beef with was lewis hamilton. the equivalent to a driving god, but you wanted to step on the toes of god.

"nothing to say back to me?" he asked.

you looked over and clenched onto your helmet tighter, "oh, i didn't even hear what you said, hamilton. i'm more nervous for you than me." you shrugged and turned back to facing forward.

you heard his footsteps and he leaned in to your ear, "i didn't know you had such strong feelings for me. i'm honoured."

you turned around and ended up face to face with him. you wanted to grip onto the front of his driving suit, but there were too many cameras and even more pairs of eyes. you replied, "don't conflate my worry about you making it to qualifiers to me actually liking you hamilton." and gave him a smile.

he raised his eyebrows at you, "right, right. you're too busy chasing the coat tails of your teammate. you know, he's not going to sleep with you. no matter how many times you're the crash course dummy for red bull."

your jaw tensed, "you're going to have to start winning, lewis because those trophies from what, five years ago, are getting a dusty."

he nodded, "well at least my trophy case is full. you know you shouldn't really show off participation trophies." he made a face. he patted you on the shoulder, "but i guess you take pride in always being second best compared to verstappen. and that's an honorable thing."

you scowled at him. his pats on your shoulder felt patronizing, you felt an anger run through you. you muttered two words to him, "room eight-o-five." and looked at him, "knock three times, password is stallion." then you turned away as you heard you mechanic team call for you.

lewis smiled at your backside as you walked away.

-

the evening after free practice, lewis had you pinned against the back of the door to your hotel room. your hands were on the overpriced shirt he wore.

"i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making." he said about your moans while you kissed.

you made a face at him. you gripped onto his shirt tighter in retaliation.

"i could get you a deal if you like it so much." he said, noticing how tightly you were holding the fabric, "i'm sure you'd actually look pretty in something that cost more than 5 pounds."

you leaned up into him, your forehead against his, "funny guy, hamilton, eh?" you could feel the boil from earlier return.

he chuckled and almost went in to kiss you once more, "i like when you're mad. gets me riled up. the only fun part of this rivalry. did you know that they think we're dating."

you pressed a kiss on his lips once more before you pulled away, your arms draped around his shoulders, you replied, "i'd think they were stupid. but your idiot friends don't know what a private instagram is." you had seen the photos, the evidence that made it all appear that you and him were more than just bickering drivers.

the main "evidence" was when in a now vanished instagram story, you were getting settled in your hotel room after a night of drinking. you had the covers pulled up to your chin with a phone camera in your face and lewis beside you, trying to get the covers off of you. he was very drunk as well. "ah c'mon, i deserve one kiss! one kiss!" he laughed and your face was all scrunched up as you threatened to bury yourself further under the covers.

the fans went crazy for that. now there was a conspiracy! but little did the folks online know.

his hands went under your shirt, he got it off of you soon enough. you tossed it to the side. you knew he was going to make a comment about how you'd look better in mercedes colours, but you shut those comments down with a searing kiss.

you both ended up in the bedroom, lewis noticed that you had an unopened box of condoms on the night stand. he said, "having guests over later."

you sighed, "yeah, i finally got with max." lewis stilled, stopping dead in his tracks towards the bed. his forehead wrinkled for a moment before you started laughing. you added, "oh my god, hamilton. you jealous fuck."

he got out of your grasp on your hand and said, "hey, we're already compared too much. i don't need him butting in on my rival."

"aw, worried about me, lewis? how sweet. i just thought you'd be worried that he would make me cum faster." you gave him a sweet smile before you took the rest of your clothes off.

when your ass was bare and you were turned to him, he winded back his hand and laid a harsh smack across your ass. he then wrapped an arm around you middle and kissed the nape of your neck, "oh, i'm not worried. because if you can't make yourself cum as fast as i can make you cum. max doesn't stand a chance." his voice was laced with lust. he then pulled away and started to undress.

maybe it was whorish of you to sleep with your rival. the one who you often butted heads with on the track. maybe if the press found out, then it would make any future female drivers look back. but as you got on the bed with lewis, you tossing a condom at him, it didn't matter.

you wanted him and he wanted you, with the hotel room door closed and locked the rest of the world was locked out of the sexual fiasco of your evening.

lewis watched you get on your hands and knees. you wiggled your ass to him to entice him. he laughed and got the condom on before he threw the packet off the bed to be dealt with later.

he wanted to tell you that you looked good. and you wanted to say the same in return. but the words couldn't come out. not while you two were still in this tango.

it was a game of chicken and the two of you were painfully stubborn.

he held onto your hip and his cock, and inched his length into you. it was a euphoria, a firework that went off in the back of his head. he wouldn't admit, but you sort of ruined other women for him. since this started, neither of you had been seeing other people.

"i'm starting to think you like me." he said.

you clutched onto the covers, "i think you're seeing things, hamilton. this is just a mutual agreement, nothing more."

lewis knew you were lying. it was obvious. the almost routine of the snapping of teeth that eventually turned into a tussle in the sheets had far beyond moved from a simple fuck.

you were invested, as was he.

once again, the game of chicken between two rivals.

he thrusted against you. his hips against your ass as he fucked you. there was little romance in his movements. it was something deep inside of him, you were both chasing a sexual high. your noises mixed with his as the two of you panted.

"fuck, lewis." you moaned. you could feel his cock in the back of your throat with how hard he was thrusting. it rarely ever went slow between you two. it was like sparks, burned hot but didn't last long. you held onto the pillow under your head as your back arched.

"i know, i know." he panted, "you feel so good like this. on your knees, you look better like this than a in a car honestly. i hate to admit it, but you're quite pretty."

you felt a compliment dance on your tongue, but you didn't say munch. while it was tempting, the pleasure strangled the words out of your mouth. you whimpered when you felt his cock nudge against your most sensitive parts.

he chuckled, he knew he left you speechless. but that was alright, all he needed to hear was your sweet little moans. both of his wide hands on your hips using a grip that only was made by being a formula one driver. he hunched over you, admiring your backside.

you were painfully pretty, you could have anyone on the grid. but lewis knew that you'd always come back to him. not even the likes of verstappen could compete with him.

"lewis." you panted as you felt the pleasure course through your body. you felt hot all over and your head felt hazy.

"shit." he panted, "fuck. c'mon."

you moaned and clawed at the bed under you. your back arched and you came around his cock. this only further him thrusting you, making sure you were taking his cock to the root. the bed squeaked some more and heavy panting filled the air.

"that's a good little driver. keeping the real pros nice and happy."

you lifted your head, your mouth open as you panted. eventually you said, "fuck you, hamilton."

"no, no. but i'll fuck you." he said as he slammed his cock as deep as it would go and finished inside of you. the condom was your saving grace. he soon pulled out of your pussy and rested on his heels for a moment. he dragged his hand across his neck and forehead to wipe the sweat off of it. he honestly should consider having sex with you as part of his work-out schedule.

but he was certain if he 'booked time' to have sex with you, you'd probably chew him out. you weren't a schedule to meet, a requirement. you were his rival... with benefits. but those benefits weren't clocking in and clocking out.

"c'mere." your voice cut through. you then pulled him up to the pillows and laid there next to him. he draped an arm around you waist and closed his eyes for a moment. you trailed a finger across his brown and down his nose, then down his cheek and across his jaw.

"ugh." you said.

he opened his eyes, those beautiful brown eyes looked to you, "what now?" he seemed like he was pretty relaxed after your round together.

"i was about to give you a compliment."

he smiled and pulled himself closer to you. the both of you still naked. he hadn't even taken the condom off. he said, "do tell."

you made a face and shook your head, "nope. i feel like if your ego gets any bigger you'll fly away." some habits died hard.

he tightened his grip on your waist and pressed his forehead to his for a moment before his coaxed you, "tell me. i'll keep it a secret. promise."

you sighed, it was painful to admit. to give you bigger rival a compliment after he made you cum. you held his face and looked into his eyes, "i get why they love taking photos of you in those overpriced outfits."

he raised his eyebrows, "that was your compliment?"

you replied before you leaned in to him, "maybe if you make me cum twice next time, i'll even admit how you're a decent driver or that i understand why others would hold you in such high regard."

he laughed, "next time, huh? i'm guessing after qualifier."

you smiled back at him, "you know it." <3

[shiyorin]

#When Primarchs send dick pic to you

#Konrad Curze x F!Reader (Reader is Imperial Agent)

#Reader is very sass

#NSFW, non-con, many things

Note: Actually I wrote this as a joke so don't expect too much from it ಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಡ

The Night Haunter felt his skin too tight, his body thrumming with an unfamiliar energy that set his teeth on edge. He'd been feeling… off for days now, plagued by urges he didn't understand and couldn't seem to shake.

He growled, raking his fingers through his tangled hair. What was wrong with him? He felt hot, agitated, like his very blood was on fire. And his cock… Konrad glanced down with a mixture of confusion and frustration. It had been hard for hours, throbbing insistently no matter how he tried to ignore it.

This wasn't normal. None of this was normal. Konrad Curze didn't get horny. He didn't feel desire or lust or any of those base, animal urges. He was above such things.

But…

His skin was flushed and damp with sweat, every nerve ending hypersensitive. When he wrapped a hand around his cock, he had to bite back a groan at how good it felt.

"What is happening to me?" he muttered, staring down at himself in bewilderment.

His cock was rock hard, the shaft thick and veiny, the head swollen and flushed an angry red. Pre-cum beaded at the tip, making his palm slide slickly as he stroked himself. It felt good, too good. Pleasure coiled in his gut, making his breath come faster.

Konrad's mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening. Was this some kind of sickness? A curse? Had one of his brothers done something to him?

No… no, this felt different. Natural, in a way that terrified him. Like his body knew exactly what it wanted, even if his mind rebelled against it.

As he stroked himself, chasing that maddening pleasure, an image flashed through Konrad's mind. You, who'd somehow wormed your way into that. Into his life, if he was being honest.

The thought of you made his cock twitch, a fresh surge of pre-cum slicking his fingers. Konrad growled, angry and confused and so fucking turned on he could barely think straight.

Why you? Why now? It didn't make any sense. And yet he couldn't get you out of his head. Couldn't stop imagining your hands on him instead of his own-

"Fuck!" Konrad snarled, his hips jerking as he stroked himself faster. He was close, so close, teetering on the edge of something he didn't understand but desperately needed.

In that moment of madness, an idea struck him. Before he could think better of it, Konrad grabbed his data-slate from the nearby table. With shaking hands, he activated the camera function and angled it down at himself.

The image that appeared on the screen made him pause. His cock looked even bigger than he'd realized, angry and swollen against the pale skin of his stomach. A bead of pre-cum glistened at the tip, threatening to spill over.

It was obscene. Vulgar. The kind of thing that would horrify most people.

But you weren't most people, were you?

Before his common sense could reassert itself, Konrad hit send. The message went out with a soft chime, carrying that damning image straight to your data-slate.

For a moment, everything was still. Then the full weight of what he'd just done crashed over Konrad like a tidal wave.

"No," he whispered, staring at the screen in horror. "No, no, no…"

His foresight, which had been strangely quiet until now, suddenly roared to life. Visions flashed through his mind, your shocked face as you opened the message, your disgust, your anger. He saw you blocking his vox channel, saw the ripple effects this moment of madness would have on his already strained relationship with you.

"No!" Konrad roared, hurling the data-slate across the room. It shattered against the wall, but it was too late. The damage was done.

Meanwhile, lightyears away, you were enjoying a rare moment of peace and quiet.

Of course, that's when your data-slate chimed with an incoming message.

You sighed, reaching for the device. If this was another emergency, you were going to lose it.

But the name that popped up on your screen made you pause. Konrad Curze? What the hell did he want?

Curiosity piqued, you opened the message. For a moment, your brain couldn't process what you were seeing. Then realization dawned, and your eyes went wide.

"What the actual fuck?!" You yelped, nearly dropping the data-slate in shock.

There, filling your screen, was a high-definition image of Konrad Curze's cock. And not just any picture, oh no. This was a full-on, close-up money shot, complete with glistening pre-cum and throbbing veins.

You stared at it in disbelief, your mind reeling. Of all the things you'd expected from the Night Haunter, a dick pic was pretty much dead last on the list.

"Is this a joke?" You muttered, zooming in despite yourself. "Did someone hack his vox channel?"

But no, as you studied the image (purely for investigative purposes, of course), you realized this was definitely Konrad. You recognized the scars on his lower abdomen, the pale skin that never saw sunlight.

This was real. Konrad Curze, terror of the night, had just sent you an unsolicited dick pic.

"Un-fucking-believable!" you groaned.

Part of you wanted to laugh. It was just so absurd, so completely out of character for Konrad. But a larger part was scared. You are scared even though you want to laugh.

"Nope." You said firmly, shaking your head to banish that thought. "Not going there. Not even a little bit."

You considered your options. You could ignore it, pretend you'd never seen it. But knowing Konrad, he'd probably show up in person to "follow up" if you didn't respond. And worse, he will flay you if you disrespect and ignore him.

You made a mental note to beef up security around the compound. And maybe comeback Terra, lord Malcador can protect you, just in cass. Because something told you this wouldn't be the last surprise Konrad had in store.

In the end, there was really only one option. With a decisive tap, you blocked Konrad's vox channel.

"Fucking Primarchs." you muttered, tossing the data-slate aside. "Can't live with them, can't shoot 'em out an airlock."

*****

The moonlight cast eerie shadows across your bedroom as you stirred from your slumber. Something had woken you, a presence that set your nerves on edge. Your eyes fluttered open, struggling to focus in the dim light.

A dark figure loomed near your bed, barely visible in the gloom. Your heart raced, your mind foggy with sleep and confusion. Who the fuck was that? An intruder? An assassin? You couldn't make out any details in the darkness.

Your hand inched towards the knife you kept by the bed, fingers curling around the cool metal. Better safe than sorry, you thought.

The floorboards creaked softly as the mysterious figure approached. You tensed, ready to swing, but then something unexpected happened. Instead of attacking, the intruder simply… climbed into bed with you.

What the actual fuck?

Before you could process this bizarre turn of events, strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you against a broad chest. A face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning across your skin.

Your eyes flew wide, shock clearing the last cobwebs of sleep from your mind. This close, you could finally make out the intruder's features.

Oh shit. It was Konrad. Konrad fucking Curze.

And he was naked. Completely, utterly naked.

As if to confirm your realization, Konrad shifted his hips and, yep, that was definitely his cock sliding between your thighs. You bit back a startled yelp, your mind racing. What the hell was happening?

Normally he'd be all creepy whispers and thinly veiled threats, not… whatever the fuck this was. Cuddling? Was the Night Haunter actually cuddling you?

Before you could decide how to react, Konrad's hand snaked down between your bodies. You held your breath, wondering if this was about to take an even weirder turn, but his fingers bypassed you completely, wrapping around his own cock instead.

Oh. Oh no.

Konrad began stroking himself, his breath coming faster against your neck. His hips rocked, sliding his length back and forth between your thighs in time with his hand.

You lay frozen, caught between disbelief and a weird sort of fascination. This was so far outside the realm of normal Konrad behavior that you almost wondered if you were dreaming. But no, the heat of his body, the slight scratch of his teeth against your skin, the slick sounds of skin on skin… this was all too real.

It didn't last long. With a muffled groan, Konrad's body tensed. You felt his cock pulse, then warm wetness splattered across your thighs.

What. The. Fuck.

For a moment, everything was still. Konrad's ragged breathing was the only sound in the room. Then, to your utter bewilderment, he started moving again. His hand returned to his cock, which was already hardening once more.

Seriously? You thought, incredulous. What is he, sixteen?

As Konrad's hips began rocking again, sliding through the mess he'd just made, realization dawned. The weird behavior, the lack of threats or violence, the insane refractory period…

Oh no, you groaned internally. He is horny.

You'd known, biologically, that the other Primarchs would be horny. But somehow you hadn't connected that to Konrad. He always seemed so… disconnected from his more base urges. Apparently even the Night Haunter wasn't immune to biology.

Now you had a dilemma on your hands. On one hand, this was Konrad fucking Curze. The guy was seven kinds of crazy on a good day, and letting him get his rocks off while you pretended to sleep was probably a terrible idea. On the other hand… well, he wasn't actually hurting you. And if you revealed that you were awake, who knew how he'd react?

Better to let him finish and leave, you decided. Then you could bleach your brain and pretend this never happened.

But Konrad showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. His movements grew more frantic, his breathing harsh against your skin. You could feel the tremors running through his body, the desperation in every thrust.

Fuck, you realized. He's completely lost in it. He probably doesn't even know where he is right now.

Konrad came again with a choked sound, his whole body shuddering. You grimaced at the fresh wave of wetness coating your thighs. Great. You were going to need like, three showers after this. Maybe four.

To your dismay, Konrad showed no signs of leaving after his second orgasm. If anything, he seemed to curl around you more tightly, his face buried in your hair.

Oh hell no, you thought. I am not spending the whole night as a body pillow for a horny Primarch.

Decision made, you took a deep breath and spoke.

"You know, if you wanted to cuddle, you could have just asked."

Konrad went rigid against you, his whole body tensing like a coiled spring. For a moment, you wondered if you'd made a terrible mistake. Then, to your utter shock, Konrad let out a sound that could only be described as a squeak.

Before you could process that, he was gone. You blinked at the sudden loss of warmth against your back. You rolled over, half-expecting to see Konrad looming over your bed, but the room was empty. The only sign he'd been there at all was the open window, curtains billowing in the night breeze.

"Did… did he just jump out the fucking window?" You muttered, staring in disbelief.

You pushed yourself up, grimacing at the sticky mess coating your thighs. A quick glance confirmed your suspicions, yep, those sheets were definitely ruined.

You made a mental note to ask Malcador about it when you return Terra. And maybe to invest in some better locks for your windows.

[rose24207]

Simp sessions and sliding into DM’s

Summary: Y/N openly simps for Lando Norris during a Beta Squad video, and he surprises her by sliding into her DMs.

Genre: humor

TW: filly (?)

A/N: English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The Beta Squad filming day was already off to a chaotic start, as usual. Cameras were rolling, the boys were bantering, and you were doing what you did best: keeping them in check while simultaneously embarrassing yourself over Lando Norris.

You were the heart of the group—a mix of sass, sarcasm, and too much energy. But when it came to Lando? You couldn’t help yourself. The guys loved it, though, because your relentless simping made for prime content.

“Alright, next challenge,” Sharky announced as the crew prepped for the next scene. “We’ve got trivia, and the loser has to wear this ridiculous chicken suit for the rest of the video.”

“I am not losing this,” Chunkz said, crossing his arms.

“You better not,” AJ quipped. “Because we already know Y/N losing the second we bring up Formula 1.”

You rolled your eyes but grinned. “Listen, I might fail general trivia, but if the question’s about Lando Norris, I’ll ace it.”

“Of course you will,” Kenny teased, smirking at the camera. “You’d probably marry him if you could.”

“Who says I wouldn’t?” you shot back, flipping your hair dramatically. Then, looking directly into the lens, you added, “Lando, if you’re watching this, hi. I’m single, funny, and an excellent cook. Call me.”

The room erupted with laughter as the guys doubled over at your boldness.

“You’re shameless!” Niko said, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Don’t act like you’re not jealous,” you retorted, pointing at him. “Lando’s a catch, and I’m just shooting my shot.”

The filming continued, but the Lando jokes didn’t stop. Every time a question remotely related to racing or McLaren came up, you’d light up like a Christmas tree.

“Which F1 team has won the most championships?” AJ read aloud during the trivia round.

“McLaren!” you shouted.

Chunkz groaned. “It’s Ferrari, you muppet.”

You pouted, ignoring the laughter and leaning into the camera again. “I tried, Lando. I swear I did. Don’t judge me.”

Unbeknownst to you, Lando was watching.

Ever since Filly introduced him to Beta Squad’s videos, he’d been a quiet fan. At first, he watched for the laughs, but after seeing you roast the boys with razor-sharp wit and your constant jokes about him, he became... intrigued.

“Mate, she’s proper funny,” Lando had told Filly after a particularly chaotic episode.

“Yeah, Y/N’s a legend,” Filly said with a grin. “You should DM her, bro. She’d lose it.”

“I don’t know,” Lando had said, trying to play it cool. But secretly, he couldn’t get the idea out of his head.

Back at the Beta Squad shoot, you were sitting on the sofa during a break, scrolling through Instagram. The guys were busy setting up for the next segment, but you were glued to your screen, giggling at Lando’s latest post.

“What’s so funny?” Chunkz asked, leaning over your shoulder.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, turning your phone away.

“Bet it’s Lando,” Sharky teased, walking past.

“Of course it is,” AJ said. “She’s been staring at her phone like it’s a picture of her future husband.”

“Leave me alone,” you said, laughing. “It’s not my fault he’s perfect.”

“Perfect at crashing,” Niko said, and you threw a cushion at him.

“Say that again, and I’ll fight you,” you warned, grinning.

Just then, Sharky’s phone buzzed, and he let out a surprised laugh. “No way.”

“What?” Chunkz asked, curious.

“Lando just posted a story. He’s watching our video.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

The guys crowded around Sharky’s phone, and sure enough, there was Lando’s story—a clip of you dramatically declaring your love for him, with the caption: “I’m flattered. Trivia next time?”

You froze, your face burning. “Oh my god.”

“Y/N, you’ve made it!” AJ shouted, shaking your shoulders.

“Wait, this is big,” Kenny said, laughing. “What are you gonna do?”

Before you could answer, your phone buzzed. You picked it up hesitantly, and your jaw dropped.

@landonorris: Followed you.

The room went silent for about three seconds before the guys erupted into chaos.

“He followed you?!” Chunkz yelled.

“This is better than any prank we’ve ever done,” Sharky said, grinning.

“Alright, everyone, calm down!” you said, though you were anything but calm. Your heart was pounding as you opened Instagram, and sure enough, there it was—Lando’s name sitting at the top of your followers list.

“DM him!” AJ urged.

“No, wait,” Kenny said, smirking. “Let’s see if he DMs her first.”

As if on cue, another notification popped up.

Lando Norris: Hey, Y/N. Love the videos. Also, I’m offended you got the McLaren question wrong.

You let out a strangled laugh, holding up your phone. “He DMed me.”

The guys lost it again, shouting and cheering as you stared at the screen in disbelief.

“Reply!” Niko said, practically shoving you back onto the sofa.

Taking a deep breath, you typed out a response:

You: In my defense, I panicked. But thanks for watching! Let me know when you want to collab on trivia.

His reply came quickly:

Lando Norris: Deal. But only if I get to be on your team.

You couldn’t stop smiling, and the guys teased you relentlessly for the rest of the day. But for once, you didn’t care.

Because maybe, just maybe, your shameless simping was about to pay off.

Thank you for reading!

[fryingpan1234567]

Missed You—Liam Mairi x marked!necromancer!reader

guess who finished Fourth Wing today

sorry this is less actually Liam focused and more bringing-him-back-from-the-dead at first, but you get to be a total badass and you still get to see him later, so like it’s fine

f!reader, we ignore canon and I have no idea how the fortress is built sorry, reader is an absolute badass, this is prolly not gonna be proofread

happy reading!

————————————————————————

You hadn’t seen Liam in five days.

It was the last of the five-day War Games excursion you and your classmates had been subjected to just before your graduation to second year, and you were getting restless. When Violet got moved to Xaden’s little band of… people, Liam of course in tow, it had caused some shifting in other groups as well. You’d gotten dumped in some random wing with people you barely knew, only your dragon and memories to keep you company, the feeling of Liam’s fingers tracing down your face, your neck, your waist, your thighs…

Well, you didn’t particularly want to masturbate while on night watch as your unknowing squad peacefully slept the night away, but—

“Getting needy, are we?” Sif teased in your head, crashing your train of thought. You shifted uncomfortably, wishing to ease the ache between your legs. You stared into the dying fire to distract yourself.

“I am not needy,” you shot back mentally so as to not wake your squadmates. “I just… miss him. Is that a crime?”

“No, but jacking off six feet from your superior officer might be.”

“I hate you. I really, truly do.”

“I could bite you in half.”

“You love me too much—“

Sif slammed her mental barrier down, effectively blocking you out. You huffed a laugh to yourself. You think, despite the constant sass and general need to get in the last word, your orange scorpiontail was probably the best thing that had ever happened to you— aside from Liam, of course. After all, she’d given you power greater than any rider could dream of.

But you had to keep that to yourself.

Necromancy was absolutely unheard of. You knew, because you’d checked— normally you stay far away from the Archives, but you’d gone soon after discovering your signet months ago and checked the records for any mention of magic like yours. Nothing. It was supposed to be the one thing dragons couldn’t give to humans.

And yet here you were, and you couldn’t tell anyone. Certainly not your professors— a marked one with that kind of power? They’d kill you. But even Xaden, Bodhi, any of the others… you didn’t know enough. You thought you could trust them. You were pretty sure. Xaden was your savior, in a way, but he was also mildly unstable if you were being honest. Even Liam’s loyalty to him made it impossible to share your secret.

You sighed. Liam. You’d heard your section leader say something about defending an outpost, but that’s about all you knew about his assignment.

He’s tough. And smart. And with Xaden and Violet. He’s surely fine.

You fell asleep, a pit of unease growing in your chest.

In the morning, everybody flew back to Basgiath, as the game had concluded. You hadn’t seen much action, not that you cared as much about that as you did about seeing Liam again.

In the sea of milling students, you’d normally be able to spot him immediately, his golden hair a head above the rest. You stood on your toes to scan the area, but you didn’t see him.

You did see Xaden, pushing his way towards you through the crowd.

“Xaden!” You gripped his hand in greeting and resisted the urge to look over his shoulder for your boyfriend.

“Hey, y/n.” The way Xaden didn’t smile made yours fade immediately. His tone of voice only ripped the hole that had been growing in your core since the night before bigger, and you had a horrible feeling he didn’t have good news for you. “How were your past few days? Sorry we left you behind.”

Yeah, all the other marked kids had gone with Xaden. Liam included. Who you still did not see anywhere at all.

“It’s— they were fine. Where’s Liam?” you blurted, moving to pull your forearm out of Xaden’s grip.

His fingers tightened, onyx eyes boring into yours. “Y/n… we lost Liam.”

“You—“ Your mind reeled, heart dropping like a stone into your stomach. But not as far as it should’ve. “You what?”

“There was a venin attack on our outpost,” Xaden said quietly so other students wouldn’t hear. You stared up at him with wide, horrified eyes, noting the grief etched into his features. He’d known Liam much longer than you. “Our options were to run or fight. He chose to fight.”

It probably wasn’t the question you should be asking, but it’s the one that came out of your mouth: “You didn’t burn him, right?”

“We—“ Xaden blinked, clearly not expecting that to be your first reaction either. “No, he and Deigh are in the family tomb at the fortress. Why—“

Your nails dug into Xaden’s forearm, a burning urgency building in your throat. You could do something. You could fix this.

“You need to take me to him right now,” you demanded.

Xaden pulled a face. “It’s broad daylight, we just got back, it’s probably not good for you to see your recently deceased boyfriend and his dragon, I could list a thousand reasons why we can’t just fly off again—“

“Xaden,” you begged, then pulled him down to cup a hand to his ear and whisper, “I can bring him back. That’s my signet. But it won’t work if the decaying process starts, so you have to take me to him right fucking now.”

He stiffened, staring down at you in disbelief. You stared back, unwavering.

“You serious?”

“Deadly, Xaden,” you insisted. “Please.”

There was zero hesitation as he dragged you across the room towards the perch where all the dragons still resided. You spotted Sif next to Tairn, because of course she’s always one to push the limits. Her eyes narrowed on you as you approached.

“You told the wingleader,” she hissed in your mind, coiled and angry. Her barbed tail flicked where it rested by her talons, digging into the stone of the wall.

“To save Liam,” you snapped, “of course I did. I can save him—“

“You’ve only revived woodland creatures so far and then passed out for hours at a time,” Sif growled as she allowed you to mount anyways. She flapped her wings, preparing to take off after Sgaeyl.

Your stomach was left on the balcony as the two of you launched into the air, taking after Xaden ahead of you. There were shouts of alarm from below, but you didn’t look back. You had to power through and, most vitally, not get caught by anyone trying to drag you back to the school. Sif, being only marginally smaller than Sgaeyl, was able to keep pace. Your job was to stay on.

“I can do it,” you insisted aloud. Xaden glanced down at you curiously.

“Have you ever brought a human back?” he shouted down to you over the roaring wind.

Your turn to pull a face. “Biggest thing I’ve ever brought back was a mountain lion,” you called back, ignoring the ripple of fury from Sif at yet another spilled secret. Doesn’t matter now. “But I figure because a human is smaller…”

“Will you burn out?” he asked.

Fantastic question. Gods, you hope not. You shouldn’t— the mountain lion in question was much bigger than Liam and you really hadn’t slept for that many days afterwards, so—

“But it will not be just the boy,” Sif grumbled. “He’s still tethered to Deigh, remember? A full size red scorpiontail? You will burn out.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you bit back. Your legs tightened a fraction around Sif’s shoulders. “I won’t burn out. I… can’t.”

You couldn’t dwell on the notion of not being able to bring Liam and Deigh back. If you did— if you didn’t—

“Easy, human,” Sif hummed, a stark contrast to her earlier tone. Warmth faded through you, compliments to the rippling muscled scales beneath you. “I will do everything I can to aid you. We will… try.”

“Thank you,” you managed back, too tired to speak aloud anymore. Risking a glance upwards at your wingleader, Xaden’s gaze was laser focused on the mountain range miles away you knew marked the border of Navarre’s ward.

You flew for nearly thirteen straight hours.

Normally, with average speeds and ample rest time, the trip would take closer to a full day. But Sif and Sgaeyl were not flying at an average speed. And they didn’t stop once.

It was dark again when you and Xaden stumbled off your dragons on the roof of the Aretia fortress, each of you feeling the weight of your dragons’ exhaustion. But you didn’t fall. No time.

“Come on,” Xaden beckoned, gesturing towards the yawning doorway that led into a dark ramp. You’d never seen this part of the fortress before. To your surprise, Sif was able to follow you down the tunnel.

“Where are we?” you asked, turning your attention away from Sif after she flicked her tongue at you. Xaden’s pace was harder to keep as, unlike your dragons, the two of you were very different in stature. Your legs were significantly shorter than his, and you nearly had to run to keep up with his stride.

He conjured a mage light to float above his head like a ghostly halo, and you did the same. There were no other lights in the corridor.

“Entrance to the crypt,” was all he said. Figures. “Big enough for dragons to carry other dragons, if need be.”

Your heart tugged at the thought of Sgaeyl or maybe Tairn hauling Deigh’s lifeless body down this same tunnel, Xaden carrying Liam’s in tow. You shook the image away. You were gonna need your concentration.

You didn’t speak the rest of the journey down, down into the mountain, farther underground than any other part of the fortress. Eventually the tunnel widened into a positively cavernous room, and you couldn’t suppress your gasp.

It was stunning. From what little light your mage lights could provide, you saw vaulted ceilings painted with murals of battles from even before the rebellion. Massive pillars stood close to the walls, engraved with names going back generations. There was a massive shrine to Malek right in the center of it all.

And scattered around the floor were skeletons. You noticed it was two to a group— a human, and a dragon, the dragon’s curled protectively around the human’s. Of course there were some humans without dragons, accompanied instead by artifacts or offerings left by family. This was generations of Aretians.

And the sloping form of a red dragon that did not rise and fall in turn with its breaths.

“Oh, gods,” you whispered aloud to yourself, breaking into a run as you passed Xaden. You came around Deigh’s head and froze as your gaze met Liam.

He looked… asleep.

No blood. No horrible injuries, like you’d been afraid of. You hadn’t thought to ask many questions about what had happened on the way here, and now was certainly not the time. Liam’s head rested against Deigh’s limp forearm, golden curls falling softly against the scales there. Some remaining blood was smeared across Deigh’s wings and a couple spots on his underbelly, but no gaping wounds on him either. Brennan cleaned him up, if you had to guess.

You fell to your knees at their side. Xaden knelt beside you, and you knew he didn’t want to pressure you, but he was more anxious than you were. You felt Sif’s presence stalk around Deigh’s other end and stop, sitting by his tail as hers flicked over his spinal ridges. They’d been friends. A new wave of grief washed over you.

But grief for what? You were here, weren’t you?

“What do you need?” Xaden asked you softly.

It’s go time now. “Maybe stand back. I’ve been told it gets pretty bright.”

Xaden did as you suggested and backed away, and you scooted closer to Liam and Deigh. Your lips parted in a shaky sigh as your fingers carded through his hair for the first time in nearly a week. His skin was ice cold to the touch. Your other hand found one of Deigh’s talons, and you braced yourself for what was to come.

“Remember to not die,” Sif reminded you, hints of anxiety leeching into her voice. You returned her earlier wave of comfort.

“I can do this,” you promised.

You found the floor of your childhood bedroom. You looked under the bed for Sif’s power, and you brought it out, like you’d slide out a box of old toys to go through in nostalgia.

This was not nostalgia. This was hot, syrupy energy seeping from your heart to your shoulders, down your arms, into your hands, and finally into golden locks and red scales.

You inhaled deeply. You could feel their pain, still residing after however many days it had been since they left this plane of existence. You grabbed onto that pain and tugged it like a loose thread on a sweater, because you knew their souls were on the other end of it.

“Malek, forgive me, for I am about to rob you of not one but two brave warriors’ souls,” you murmur aloud to no one but yourself. The pain gets brighter, more intense. Good. It’s working.

“Okay?” Sif nudges, but you don’t answer. You have to focus. This is going to be more difficult than anything you’ve ever done before.

And you’re going to do it. For Liam.

The pain unfolds deep in your chest, worsening inch by treacherous inch as you forcibly drag two souls back into their bodies. But it’s working, and that’s the only fucking thing that matters.

“Malek, forgive me,” you repeat in a whimper. “I commend you my own soul, my own heart, you may punish me for eternity when I go into the ground, but please, please,” you beg. You feel like you’re melting from the inside out. But you can also feel Liam and Deigh coming closer, and that means you can’t stop or slow down.

“Uh, you okay?” Xaden calls from somewhere behind you. Sif audibly hisses and snaps at him for disturbing your concentration. “What?! Sorry, I— she’s— y/n, you’re glowing. Are you supposed to glow?”

“Yep,” you choke out over your shoulder. “Good, all good. Shut up now, please.”

He did. It took several more minutes, maybe hours, before you had Deigh and Liam’s souls floating just above each of their bodies. You were shaking like a leaf. You could probably pass out from heat exhaustion right now. It was the most pain you’d ever been in. You’d dragged two souls straight out of Malek’s hands and into your own.

Final push. Liam’s whispered name fell from your lips as his soul settled back into his physical body. His chest jolted to life beneath you with new air and a revived heartbeat, as did Deigh’s. You vaguely hoped he wouldn’t roll forwards and crush the two of you.

Liam’s bright blue eyes cracked open. His gaze met yours for half a second, and he smiled, that dimple that you loved so much appearing, and—

And you passed out, falling back into Sif’s outstretched wing.

Those blue eyes were the first thing you saw when yours opened, several hours later.

You were back at Basgiath.

You sat up way too fast, and the world tilted, sliding you right back down onto your pillow. Well, not your pillow— this was not your room, it was Liam’s, judging by the window placement and—

Liam.

Your eyes snapped to his, which crinkled as he smiled at you. You nearly started sobbing right then and there.

Liam! Alive! Smiling at you!

“Morning, sunshine,” he said softly, and that was it for you. You curled into his arms, sobs wracking your sore body as he held you tight to his chest, holding you like he never wanted to let you go again.

“Li— Liam,” you hiccuped, muffled from his blankets. “I— you—“

“I know, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into the crown of your head. “You’re okay. I’m okay, somehow. Breathe for me.”

It took several moments, but you came down from your high, clutching at Liam’s bare shoulder with shaking hands. He kissed your tears away and whispered comforts to you all the while, which was a little bit ridiculous. He’d literally just come back from the dead, and he was comforting you.

You, who’d brought him back. It fucking worked.

“It worked,” you whispered aloud.

Liam laughed at that, his sweet dimple making its appearance again. You couldn’t squash the smile that took over your face at the sight. You resisted the urge to kiss it like you had so many times before.

“It worked, baby,” he agreed. He stared into your eyes with his electrifying blue ones, grin softening into a contented smile. “Xaden told me… as much as he could, I think. Your signet is necromancy, which you neglected to tell any of us.” He poked at your side teasingly, and you twisted away from him with a giggle.

“I’m sorry,” you managed, finding your hand under the covers and laying it on Liam’s forearm, lazily drawing circles there. Fuuuck, you’d missed him.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “It’s okay; I get why you did it. It’s dangerous for people to know.” He studied your face thoughtfully. “You’re…”

“Too nice to be a necromancer?” you supplied, half joking. You did have a lot of friends for a reason.

“I was gonna say amazing,” he said, “but close enough. Did Sif tell you she and Sgaeyl had to pretty much carry Deigh and I back here, by the way?”

Your jaw dropped. You supposed it made sense— it’s not like Liam or his dragon would be in tip top shape right off the bat after coming back from the dead. But still, the image was frankly hilarious.

You reached out to Sif. “Is that true? Did you actually have to carry Deigh?”

“And your sorry unconscious ass,” she responded immediately. Her words were biting, but her tone was undeniably relieved. “The wingleader took your boy. He seems touch starved, but he also seems like he’d never admit that aloud.”

You suppressed a laugh, clapping a hand to your mouth. If that wasn’t the most Xaden thing you’d ever heard in your life…

“She filling you in on all the glorious details?” Liam raised a perfect eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Sif says Xaden is touch starved but he won’t admit that to anyone,” you relayed.

Liam snorted. “I’ve never been cuddled by that man before in like twenty years of knowing each other except for the past thirteen hours. Maybe don’t tell him I said that.”

You exhaled your laugh, curling back into him. Your ear found his chest, and the steady thrum of his heartbeat nearly made you break down again.

Mental note: sacrifice a very large animal to Malek later today.

What time is it?

You poke your head up over Liam’s shoulder to find the clock he keeps at his bedside. Nearly noon.

“How long was I out for?” you realized, hoping it hadn’t been days like it normally was. After that, you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d passed out for a month.

“The whole time we were there, the whole flight back, and four hours,” Liam recited as if he’d been counting. Knowing him, he probably was. The thought brings a smile to your face. “We had Brennan mend what he could. You’d probably sleep through the month if he hadn’t sped the process up.”

“Read my mind,” you murmured, rubbing your face against his chest like an affectionate cat. He huffed a laugh, carding a hand through your hair.

“You missed me, huh?” he murmured back in the same tone as yours.

Preening dickhead. You figured you’d indulge him, if only because he was definitely right this time.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, simply, and that was it. You could talk about the battle that cost him his life some other time. You could get his and Deigh’s help groveling to Malek later. You could answer all his questions about your power when he felt the need to ask them. But for now, you were great right where you were at: in his arms, in his bed, as it should be. Thinking he was dead 24 hours ago seems distant, a faraway worry.

Alive. Liam Mairi is alive. And he’s all yours.

————————————————————————

see I fixed it! everyone’s happy now

[nodoubtily]

Your favourite moments with Niki as your boyfriend

Drabble 4/6: Thank you, Prada!

I FEEL SASS RADIATING

TW:// REALLY WHOLESOME, Y/N is off with the fairies, Niki enjoys it too much. Idol!Niki x Non-Idol!Reader, just really cute considering I was listening to such a freaky song while writing this out. NOT PROOFREAD.

Upon the sight of your boyfriend, you’ve become officially unresponsive. No one knows what’s wrong other than you. All everyone is aware of is the fact you, for the love of god, cannot take your eyes off your 6-foot-something pretty boy. He, Niki, is determined to find out, but for some reason, you back away whenever he moves towards you, confusing the fuck out of him.

“Baby, you’re scaring me now..” he says, done with playing. His voice is laced with concern and worry, which snaps you, momentarily, out of your powerful trance.

“Need you in this outfit more. I’m begging you. I’m begging your designer. Where is she, like seriously.” You mutter, your eyes scanning the small room Prada granted the group. You can’t find her, and your shoulders slump. Staring at him again, your eyes take down his tall frame. He shakes his head slightly, chuckling. Now he knows what wrong. And like HELL he’ll miss out on this moment.

“Baby.” He grabs your attentions, only slightly, so you hum in response. “Did you know that my dog is cuter than yours?” You only nod.

“Yeah, of course. Way cuter…” it’s like your brain was crashing down.

“Did you also know your mother loves me more than you?” He’s lying straight through his teeth, but you only nod quickly.

“Sees you as the son she never got.” You say, hands shaking as they fidget with Niki’s glasses. He only lets you play with them, and you’re not even realising you’re getting your fingerprints all over. Niki does, but he doesn’t mind. He’s enjoying this too much.

“I love you more.” He leans closer and you kiss his cheek absentmindedly, you’re hands now feeling the fabric his clothes.

“Such beautiful material.” You mumble, feeling the softness. You, like always, praise Prada for this. Niki, satisfied, wraps his right arm around your waist, pulling you snug against him. He kisses your forehead.

“You’re so cute.” He pecks your lips, awakening you from your timely trance. You gaze up at him.

“You look so nice. You smell really good too.” You properly face him, your arms wrapping his waist, the side of your face palming his chest. His arms cozy around your neck, pulling you impossibly close as he kisses your forehead.

“I love you, baby.” He mutters lowly, only so you could hear.

“I love you too.”

FUNNY THING IS THAT FOR MAJORITY KF THIS I LISTENED TO ‘WET THE BED’ BY CHRIS BROWN. Then by the end, ‘No Pole’ came on.

@jyikeu my fucking wifey. ILY

[airosuiren]

𝕮𝕳𝕬𝕻𝕿𝕰𝕽: 𝕬 𝖂𝖊𝖉𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖋 𝕭𝖑𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕭𝖔𝖓𝖉

A/N: WEDDING TIME, BABY. This is the chapter where our Queen [Y/N] and her eternal soulmate Evander renew their vows in the most Virelyan way possible—magic, armor, weapons, and absolute soulbond royalty. And of course... Lila tries to crash. In a white dress. With zero awareness of how anything works in this culture. Get ready for secondhand embarrassment, royal sass, and some well-earned kisses. 👑⚔️💋

Thank you @bunniotomia For this amazing idea!!

The wedding was set atop the Moonspire—a gleaming citadel carved into the mountain where time bent around starlight. Snow dusted the stone courtyard, where runes shimmered beneath guests' feet. The entire Virelyan court had gathered.

This was no ordinary wedding.

[Y/N] and Evander were already soul-bound—had been for centuries, through death and return. But this ceremony would tether their mortal bodies, binding them through ritual and vow until the end of this life.

She stood at the top of the steps, radiant in deep royal violet and obsidian, her armor forged with lightwoven steel. Her cloak was crimson silk, lined with runes of unity. At her waist—a ceremonial dagger, etched with their names.

Evander stood below, wolf-pelt cloak over his shoulders, frost trailing his steps. He wore black, silver, and a blade sheathed across his back. He had never looked at anyone the way he looked at her.

"Are you ready?" Kaelen asked quietly.

[Y/N] smiled. "I was born ready for him."

Just as the officiant began the ritual, a shout echoed from the back.

"WAIT!"

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

And there she was.

Lila Wayne.

Wearing a white wedding dress.

Under a trench coat.

Out of breath. Slightly windswept. Mascara slightly smudged.

She threw off the coat dramatically and stomped up the aisle.

"I OBJECT!"

The Virelyan court blinked.

Alarion frowned. "You... what?"

Lila raised a hand like she was in a courtroom drama. "You can't marry him! I love him! And you're stealing everything from me!"

Dead silence.

Then Lysandra snorted.

Blaise cackled outright.

Even Kaelen cracked a smile.

[Y/N] raised an eyebrow. "Are you done?"

Lila flushed. "What about 'speak now or forever hold your peace'?"

[Y/N] looked to Evander, who tilted his head like a wolf humoring a confused pup.

"Lila," [Y/N] said gently, exasperated, "we don’t do objections. This isn’t a soap opera. This is a soul-binding. Our vows were etched into our souls long before this realm even had oxygen."

Lila blinked. "So... there's no... legal pause or—?"

"No," [Y/N] said, already walking toward her soon-to-be husband. "This is a sacred vow, not a stage for theatrics. Please take a seat before the moon itself decides you’ve embarrassed us all enough."

She turned back to the crowd. "Can someone give her tea or... something? Gods, this is awkward."

Evander was grinning now, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on her like she was the center of every universe he'd ever lived in.

They clasped hands over the dagger.

A golden light bound their fingers.

"I vow," [Y/N] said, "to burn down empires for you."

"And I vow," Evander said, "to freeze the stars before I let harm touch you."

The blade glowed. The runes flared. Their lips met.

Power rippled through the court.

Cheers erupted.

Lila cried. But no one noticed.

The feast was wild.

Wine flowed. Songs rang. Dancers spun.

Lila stood awkwardly near a pillar, sipping something too strong for her palate.

"Lovely dress," a noblewoman said politely. "Though... won’t it stain if a duel breaks out?"

"Duel?" Lila blinked.

"Oh yes," the woman smiled. "No good Virelyan wedding ends without at least one brawl."

A knight walked past, armor clanking. "Where do you keep your daggers? That dress has no compartments."

Lila gaped.

Another courtier added, "Honestly, it's a bit impractical. How do you expect to defend yourself in that?"

"I'm not... expecting to fight," Lila muttered.

They looked at her like she'd grown a second head.

[Y/N] found her sitting alone.

"Still here?"

Lila looked up. "I just... I thought maybe you'd be like me. That you'd still want to be... part of Gotham."

[Y/N] sat beside her. "I tried. For years."

She touched her wedding ring. "But I don't belong to a city that forgot me. I belong to him. To this world."

Lila said nothing.

[Y/N] stood again. "You don't have to understand it. But you should stop trying to steal it."

And with that, she returned to Evander.

To the only vow that ever mattered.

A/N: OKAY BUT LILA IN THE WHITE DRESS??? PEAK CRINGE. She really thought she had a "main character moment" and got hit with a cultural misunderstanding instead. Bless her chaotic heart. Let me know if y'all want to see that post-wedding brawl or honeymoon chaos next — cause you know it’s never quiet for long in Virelya. 🥂💍

Taglist: @kittzu, @trashlanternfish360, @ottjhe, @moonieper, @feral-childs-word, @tinybrie,@xomarryamox, @fawnqueenbrowsing, @wpdarlingpan, @leeiasure.

Old Taglist: @trashlanternfish360, @nixxiev, @eclipse-msoul, @plsfckmedxddy, @viilan, @rattyrattyratty, @texas-fox, @1abi, @niamcarlin,@tomoyaki, @silken-moons.

Lmk if i missed anyone!

[frozenparadize]

yet another chuuatsu crack-with-feelings idea

accidental fake date AU

We know from Kajii & Kyoka train ambush that Akutagawa was not the only one Mafia send on were-tiger bounty hunt. So, AU where Chuuya came back from abroad earlier and Mori gave him a go at capturing Atsushi.

And Chuuya of course would want to do it in full blazing glory of one-man front attack. Agency building is just arould the corner - when he stumbles over Atsushi coming home from work, literally walking into him.

Chuuya is taken aback with how polite, sweet and gorgeous Atsushi is - and how he senses no danger whatsoever. Now, the twistXD Chuuya thinks Dazai spilled the beans about every Mafia member' identity he knows, and after first attack Atsushi would be clued in, too. But - Agency is a beautiful mess, and no one gave Atsushi power point presentation yet. He has no idea he just crashed into Mafia Executive.

Chuuya thinks otherwise. This is Dazai protege after all, if he acts as if he doesn't know who Chuuya is that has to be on purpose, right? So he decides fine, this is a ploy of some sort. I'll play along, let's see what you've got. And he resumes the conversation as if they were just two people meeting by chance.

Chuuya tries a little flirting, simply to throw Atsushi off the game he thinks he's playing. But Atsushi just takes it as the truth. Bashful, yet so greedy for everything good in his life, and this graceful, fascinating man flirting with him? Even if its teasing, Atsushi responds. One thing to another, and Chuuya finds himself getting Atsushi on a date.

Fancy place of Chuuya's choice, of course, and he wishes Agency were-tiger would show his hand in this, finally, but he's just so earnest. For the first time in a restaurant like this, palpable awkwardness he tries to keep hidden, and Chuuya ought to revel in this, pick at this more to get him to break the charade, but damn it, he wants to put the guy at ease. Then the conversation, the way they fit - it plays better than it should, it just gets Chuuya deeper. He forgets at times this is work, and Atsushi is his mark who's pretending he doesn't know this, no matter how genuine feel his quiet smiles, his catching mix of self-deprecating remarks and sharp flashes of sass.

They stand at the pavement near the alley outside of restaurant when Mafia car is pulling up and Chuuya gets inside befoore reaching out to Atsushi. 'What are you doing?' Atsusghi asks, voice dropped almost to a whisper while he already takes the offered hand. And Chuuya has to fight trough his stolen breath, his missed heart beat while he feels Atsushi's trusting touch, how his pulse is quickened where the fingertips brush tender wrist skin right under the glove.

'Ah - Abducting you.'

The best performance of being sure and suave he ever gave. To match the portrayal of gentle naive he's been treated to.

Atsushi is pulled into the car with more force than both expected, falls over Chuuya and takes this as an invitation, gives in to a pull this man has over him already, captivating beyond anything he ever knew, Atsushi just - surges forward. The kiss is sudden, a little askew, open, lovely, giving - too good to be a lie. It gets Chuuya to melt for a second and then gets him angry. How can someone look and feel like this, this sincere, and be this shrewd at pretending?

Click if a switchblade ovening, cold under Atsushi's collarbone.

'You can drop the act now. I got you. What's the plan? Did that bandaged bastard replace the driver? Is he behind the fucking wheel - '

'W-what plan?'

The hurt, confusion - betrayal on Atsushi's face is too real. This has no point to be happening, Chuuya tries to re-evaluate everything but there was no way he really, truly didn't...

'Your Agency' plan to stop your abduction tonight?! The reason while you act all sweet as if you don't know I'm Mafia Executive.'

Now there's no confusion reflected in his chromatic eyes. Only hurt left, but then - anger, too, flurry, wounded.

'So... you played me? All this evening...'

Atsushi makes a move to break out of the car, and Chuuya darts to stop him, and now it's not even because he has to complete the mission, it's because realization sets it - he massively fucked all this up. But this is where the claws come out, because Atsushi really, really wants to get out of this car and away from this man. The car door is torn open, the brakes are hit, Mafia driver prays for his life - while Chuuya keeps pursuit through the streets, fresh scratches sting only adds up to the mix of feelings.

He was already half-taken by Atsushi's soft side, even when he thought it's played up. And now he knows it wasn't, and during the ensuing fight Chuuya just gets deeper into the trouble because now there's this thrill of unexpirienced but so strong and swift opponent. And deep under - the guilt because he wasn't honest with Atsushi, he was so sure he was the one being led on, he ignored everything that proved him wrong.

Maybe this is what does Chuuya in, really, when he lets Atsushi escape - not dealing much of damage beyond few bruises, and not really injured himself, either. He tells himself it was because they were fighting in living city area. He tells himself it was because it wasn't honest fight, anyway.

Maybe Chuuya can seizure the chance of rematch. Or better still, a chance to explain to Atsushi that awful, dumb misunderstanding.

All along I thought you knew who I was.

How would you look at me now when you do know?

[uncouth-the-fifth]

good morning, charlie - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: domestic fluff with the tiniest dustings of background angst, married life, hugging, kissing, and snuggling. Words: 3k (yes, I'm capable of keeping something this short) Notes: read this in a WWE announcer voice: THAT'S RIGHT! UNCOUTH HAS COME CRASHING BACK INTO THE RING AFTER YET ANOTHER MONTHS-LONG HIATUS. i'm magical, truly. here is the first Leon fic I promised last month! There's so much I want to say about this little drabble, but I'll save that for my curious ppl on Ao3. this is going to be a big 180 from my spn content, and I sincerely hope that's okay with the public 😭 for my RE people: enjoy domestic Leon bullshit!

At two in the morning, Washington D.C. is pouring everything it has into crafting the coziest atmosphere of all time. A pleasant window-tapping storm had rolled in right around when you resolved to stay up working. Some late-night radio host is making soft, fizzing chatter in the next room, and coupled with a stellar view of the city from fancy floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a prime opportunity to pass the fuck out.

Unfortunately, you have made some spectacular life choices that don’t mix well with a full night’s rest. Nope, no sleep for you. Despite all of fate’s attempts to stop you from being a cop, (including throwing a city-wide outbreak at you on your first day), you are still here, gripping your job with both hands. At two in the damn morning.

Since scrubbing your eyes hadn’t woken you up the first five times you tried it, you give it another shot as you pace the length of your living room rug—from the coffee table you’ve stacked with files, then back to the whiteboard pasted top-to-bottom with pictures of missing young women. The whiteboard had been Leon’s idea. After the fourth time you’d transformed a flattened cardboard box into a morbid case-board for work, he’d cajoled you into letting him buy one for the apartment.

But I won’t be able to stab the tacks into it, you’d pouted.

Oh, the agony, your husband had drawled. He was a master of delivering a good, dry look.

You’d propped your fists on your hips and tried your best to look serious. The red yarn connecting everything isn’t just a detective-movie thing, y’know! It’s actually really useful. And I need my tacks to stick the yarn in—

Leon had cut cleanly through your building sass with another look, this time one glimmering with humor. Then I’ll get you magnetic ones, detective. Don’t you use whiteboards at the precinct anyway?

You’d grumbled. Because, yes, you did use whiteboards at the station, and they did have the little tacks with the magnets on the bottom. But you’d refused to deal with Leon being all smug (he was unbearable pretty when he was right), and had teased back instead, Whatever, nerd. Why don’t you and the other two angels go call Charlie already?

The reference had gone clean over Leon’s head. Of course, he hated being left out of a joke, so he’d roped you over by your wrist and pinched an explanation out of you until you were squealing with giggles.

Summarizing Charlie’s Angels to Leon had been a lot like offering a paper rocketship to an aerospace engineer. But, hey, picturing him running around in skimpy outfits and escaping action movie explosions on a motorcycle is a whole lot more fun than… than the real deal.

You don’t want to think about what his missions are really like. Not that you’re even allowed to know in the first place. Being Leon’s wife permits you a government-issued phone with his handler’s number, and on antsy days you can push Ingrid for details if you want. But after so long you’ve learned it only hurts both of you—for her, in the inability to answer, and for you, in the excruciating pain of being unable to know. Where is he? That’s classified.

She can’t always tell you when he’s coming home, either. So much of your life is hinged on her check-ins, and even more is forced to live off a simple, He’s okay.

For the seventh time, you scrub at your tired eyes and suck in a deep breath. You’d gotten that fabled text from Hunnigan—he’s okay—earlier today, and like always you crawled through the rest of your shift roiling with anticipation, waiting for Leon to materialize back into your life.

You force your gaze back to the whiteboard, littered with notes and pictures hung up with magnetic tacks. The faces of five missing women bore back. The ten-ton weight of your caseload slams down in full, and again, you scold yourself for floating back into comforting memories of your husband. These girls have lost all comfort in the world since they were taken. Your Captain gave you the responsibility of finding them, and after all you’ve been through, after all the other cases you’ve closed, there can’t be any room for failure. Think.

Your legs ache from being on your feet all day, chasing leads, but dropping into Leon’s armchair for even an instant will just have you nodding off again. More pacing it is, then. This is your pattern for the next half-hour: pace, re-read witness statements, turn, sip your coffee, pace, cross-reference alibis. He’s okay. Two of the girls were taken from Queen’s Chapel, two from Takoma, one from Woodridge. He’s fine. The last victim breaks the profile. What’s different about her? Why take her? Think think think— You know what Leon would do. He was the kind of person you could put in front of a problem, and no matter what he would find a way to shoulder his way through. With physical force, sure, but mental force too. He would sit and just look at the puzzle, and sheer willpower would lead him to some kind of answer. But you’d been pushing and pushing for days now, pursuing every lead, pressing every witness, yet nothing will give. The whole thing feels like a punching bag you’re beating at over and over again, knuckles raw and bloody—

Keys rattle just outside the front door.

First the big deadbolt scrapes open, unlatching with a heavy thud, and that sound alone is enough to shock you awake. More than any coffee could. Then comes the doorknob. Leon hasn’t even turned his key before you’ve twisted the lock open, yanked the door out of your way, and sent it whipping into the jamb with his keyring still swinging from its slot. You give him one full blink to register that it’s you before you’re throwing yourself on him without a single lick of shame, legs and all.

Of course, Leon bears your weight with grace. He grunts out an oof! when you come in for landing, and the living, breathing sound drains into one gruff laugh. You’re scooped up under the thighs and teddy bear squeezed against him. He reeks of cheap motel soap and something faintly coppery—then mint, a whole world of plush, wet spearmint when he nudges your face up with his nose and lays a hello kiss on you. The taste of his gum and the scratch of his stubble on your chin make your skin feel like it’s fizzing, inside-burning-out, every inch of you stood on end by his static charge. Jesus, this guy. He feels like fucking magic, and you’re confident that the laws of physics don’t quite apply around him. Everything in the room, in the too-big apartment that’s painfully empty without him in it, tilts toward Leon.

You shove your face nose-first into his neck and clutch the back of his jacket in both fists. Swallowing hard, you manage, “Hey, angel.”

“Good morning, Charlie,” Leon says.

If you had any resolve for today left in you at all, the wash of his sizzling butter voice would squash the last of it. You’d been trying to be sweet, but your husband has to be funny about fucking everything, of course. Even after weeks spent apart. You love him so fucking much.

“Don’t tell me you found time to watch that stupid movie.” Your voice is muffled by his coat, and you’re grateful for an excuse to hide.

You’re moving. Leon carries you inside, his wedding band pressing into your leg and his other big, warm hand spooned around your back. “Boring plane ride. I wanted to get your jokes.”

Your front door is toed shut, and with all the efficient maneuvering of a proper agent, Leon gets the place locked up behind you. Somewhere in all the commotion he’d dropped his go-bag by the welcome mat, and you hear the dramatic thunk, thunk, of his fancy work loafers being kicked off beside it. Only then does he slip you onto your own feet again.

Your hands slide down his arms as you make contact with the floor. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware that he’s damp from the rain, but that fact hangs in the little alternate universe he’s made in your front hall. Standing there and being able to look at him straight-on, Leon doesn’t feel real. It’s like your constant thoughts of him have manifested a ghost in his shape, mimicking the smiley rookie you remember.

He greets you with a quiet, beaten-down smile, and you understand immediately that the world has thrown its fair share of punches at him, too. You’ve both had a shit week. The Kennedy surname just brims with good luck, huh?

Your hands work on autopilot as you take him in, slipping under the fabric of his jacket and lingering over his thudding heart. His warm blue gaze swims over your face, and you can almost hear the clicking mechanisms in his head as he forces himself out of operative mode and into home mode by looking at you.

“It’s a really bad movie,” you say, choked up.

Leon’s jacket hits the floor with his shoes. There’s a swath of ugly, purpling bruises crawling up his bare arm, old enough to be greening at the edges, and your stomach churns when you see it.

He taps your chin up, pulling you away from the damage and back on him. His voice rolls over you like bourbon in a glass. “Absolutely. So-bad-it’s-good, even. We should watch it, make fun of it together. Like, why the hell does…”

Leon flawlessly falls into an analysis of the movie’s poorly-written espionage elements. The movie you made one offhand joke about several weeks ago, mind you. He’s pulling at straws, saying whatever the hell comes to mind to make you laugh, so exhausted he’s literally swaying on his feet. You can’t believe he’s trying to distract you with something so trivial, but this is your husband. One flash of that weary closed-mouth smile, one brush of those callused hands down your wrists, and your whole world resumes its orbit around him.

You laugh at the jokes he’s obviously crafted for your benefit, a weak chuckle your heart isn’t in. With his hands looped around your wrists, he guides your arms around his neck and welcomes you back into the toasty bubble of his touch. Leon’s even warmer from being tucked underneath his coat. Pure goodness and safety glows off him like a fucking nuclear reactor, and it dawns on you that you haven’t felt safe at all since he left. Anyone can be plucked off the streets here.

One more scratchy kiss and then he’s leading you deeper into your apartment. No one on Earth would believe that he’s a chatty guy, but he talks the whole way through. Too often he’s left to sit in his own mind on missions, and you’re treated to two week’s worth of his backlog in the next ten minutes. All the little things he wanted to say to you. The streams of smart-mouth commentary he was famous for at the academy are all inner monologue now, but you’re confident the Leon radio show still runs twenty four hours a day. He chatters so much in his head that it slips out of him like water sometimes—

“…that close to an explosion would disintegrate you, but fuck physics I guess—“ Leon interrupts his own flow of thought to squint at you. “Quit looking at me like that. It’s unfair how pretty you are when you’re tired. What was I—not like the laws of physics apply to that movie anyway, but…”

—and you’re stupidly charmed by it. He talks to comfort himself, and because the two of you are one unit, one person to him, he does the same for you.

With your hand tethered in his, he clicks off the radio in the kitchen. One of Leon’s side-stories replaces the random late-night station that’d been playing, floating over the din of the rain like bass over relaxing drums. He pours out the dregs of your coffee. He closes the files full of gruesome crime scene photos on your coffee table, and you watch, barely able to keep your head up, as he flips your whiteboard over to its blank side. You’ll get his second opinion on the case tomorrow.

Leon sweeps the place with you in tow, and once the security system’s armed and you’re almost sagging against him, the lights come off. Though you’ve had plenty of time to adjust to the Leon that returned home from training, you’ll never get used to the little alien ticks it’s given him. He navigates to your bedroom in complete blackness. He avoids the creaky floorboard just outside your door without seeing, deathly silent. The broad presence of him looms in the dark.

One wall of the bedroom is nothing but paneled glass, throwing a long square of dark blue moonlight over your rumpled comforter. While the view of the Potomac and Capital Hill is stellar from up here, you’ve always felt out of place among the things Leon’s generous salary has earned the two of you: a flat with a private elevator in the nice part of town, fresh-off-the-press sports cars, a getaway cabin up north. So much of it you end up enjoying by yourself. It only ever feels worth it when he’s here, smacking his elbow into the digital wall-panel that controls your A/C.

“—s’ supposed to be a touch screen,” he sidebars himself for the tenth time. Softer, Leon adds, “Brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”

You rope your arms around his middle and press your face into the heart of his back, careful of the bruises he’s doing his best to hide. “Wanna wait for you.”

Leon doesn’t protest. There’s more little beeps as he screws with the temperature of your mattress or something, deciding, “We live in a damn spaceship. Are we too good for plain old-fashioned buttons now?”

Apparently you are, since old man Leon fails to figure out how to crank the heat up. You let him play with it for a little while longer (it’s not his fault he’s rarely home), and then intervene with a few quick taps when things get dire. The heater hums to life under the floor a beat later, and he turns in your grip to scoff, mystified by your vast and incredible knowledge.

“My smart girl,” he hums.

Just that is enough to chip off a piece of your strength. Had he said that to you over the phone, a million miles away in god-knows-where, your knees would buckle. He is the only one who talks to you like that—with so much simple, uncomplicated love. Too tired to put your thoughts into words, you flatten a hand over his heart and kiss the sun-freckled nape of his neck.

“Clingy,” Leon mutters. You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to sound dry and funny, another one of his jokes. But then he’s smoothing both of his palms down your arms in two long handsy swaths, and the gesture tells you everything about just how clingy he’s feeling, too.

His stories make getting ready for bed an even slower affair. You couldn’t mind if you wanted to. As you help him out of his starchy dress-shirt button by button, he surprises you with a rare explanation of where he’s been for the last weeks. The UK. Truly, your husband is the special secret agent to end all special secret agents: he talks around his job as if it was a bump he’d hit on the way home, entertaining you instead with his Leon-ified vision of London. Touristy as shit. Loud as shit. Smelled like shit.

“Just like DC,” he chuckles, and then a second time when your fluffy head pops through the collar of the sleep shirt he’s dressing you in.

It’s too much rough, cinnamon spice laughter for one woman to stand. You duck away to brush your teeth and groan into your palms like a schoolgirl over him, but sure enough, Leon trails you, fingers chasing the hem of your shirt (his shirt) in a sleepy daze. He always keeps you in view. Nervous, maybe, to have you out of his sight.

This tradition continues when the two of you crawl into bed. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and so has your body, able to sense him on the stupidly expensive mattress beside you. He thinks you can’t tell, but his gaze roves over you again and again—down your back when you flop face-first into the plush bedding, over the slope of your shoulder when you wiggle under the covers. Leon draws you into the glorious halo of his body heat with a gentle hand on your belly. If you could bottle this feeling, the whole world would be sick and stupid for him in hours. Minutes even.

You feel so safe that the word doesn’t even come to mind. Just vague, peaceful shapes of things you know, home, sleep, cologne, cozy. His work-rough palm with his body-warm wedding band slips under your tee to sweep over your ribs. Then comes Leon’s face, just on the right side of stubbly as he shoves it between your shoulder blades without a single lick of shame. The breath he takes of you is so heavy that his whole frame shudders with it, top to bottom.

You remember how you’d burrowed into his jacket the second he got home and think, You are me and I am you. We’re always on the same page.

With that, the stage is set. DC’s faraway glittering cityscape lights up all the raindrops on your window, and you watch them run as the two of you melt into one another. Leon’s warm breaths slow across your neck. Time for you to deliver your line.

You wet your lips and murmur into your pillow, “Do you want to talk about your mission?”

Legally, he can’t say yes. Government secrets, bureaucracy, yadda yadda. Leon isn’t always emotionally ready to crack open a coffin he’s just finished sealing, either, but while it is his job to close your case files for the night, you’re his wife. You’re the only person who can knock on that door. With how little choice he has left in his life, you try to give him options whenever you can. Regardless, you know the man you married—strong-willed on a mythical fucking level, and just as self-sacrificing. He’ll always try to spare you.

Sure enough, Leon says, “Tomorrow. Do you want to talk about your case?”

You shake your head at him, exhausted to the point of dizziness. “Tomorrow.”

A tender kiss is pressed to the nape of your neck, and the whole world goes silent for the perfect, husky whisper you’ve ached to hear. You feel his wry smile against your skin. “We’re always on the same page, baby.”